#myidlehand

I just played that part again and he tells you about the Gurs beatting him half to death at camp during long rest after you killed the one in the bog. When you come talk to him he says something like "I suppose you want to know about Cazador" and then you can ask him how he got turned and that's when he said he made a decision as a magistrate they didn't like and almost killed him

​Ooh so that's where it is! Thanks that's good to know

So this raises another question of who made baby elf a magistrate

I was debating whether or not to reply to this, not because I don’t appreciate this message, I totally do. But you know what? Let’s talk about parenthood. Here is the original post that I made when the album came out. This is ending up being a long post so I’m going to stick a lot of it under a read more and then anyone who is not interested can scroll on by. Seriously, just scroll on by. And anyone who purposefully misinterprets anything I say, I will not engage with you. I am not talking about abusive parents, never have been. I’ve been there. I know.

I would like to say though, that it is not necessarily having a difficult time as a parent. More so that almost every parent has felt like they are not good enough, even if they are (I am). I don’t for a second think that I am in any way special for having a child, nor do I think anyone who doesn’t want one should have one. It doesn’t unlock some secret understanding to human existence. It’s simply a part of life you may engage in. At the same time, no one who isn’t a parent understands what it is like to be a parent. That is just a fact.

Also, TW for post-natal depression, near death experience and injury.

“Give us a hand, will you Geralt?” The voice drifts over the top of the changing screen.

Geralt takes a breath and steels himself. He has faced down fiends and selkiemores, wraiths and basilisks, and he’s never yet been bested in a fight by man, beast, or witcher.

Surely, surely, he can handle one bard dressing for a courtly banquet.

“Come on, help me out, these laces are a nightmare!” He can hear the pout in Jaskier’s voice, and he’ll never hear the end of it if he doesn’t assist.

“Fine!” he says, perhaps a little too sharply, walking over while trying not to look behind the screen.

“You’re the best,” Jaskier says, emerging in a loose silk shirt and mercifully full trousers. He has an exuberantly decorated doublet in one hand which he thrusts at Geralt. “It’s far too complicated for me,” he says with a self-deprecating smile.

Something twitches in Geralt’s jaw, but he shakes out the garment and holds it open for Jaskier to slide into. As he threads each arm through the sleeves, the fabric catches and pulls tight around his biceps. They are, now Geralt is regarding them up close, rather lovely biceps, full and ample, soft mounds curving in graceful arches. As he adjusts the sleeves he gives Jaskier’s arms a little squeeze, and oh, they’re pleasantly firm as well. Interesting.

He smooths down the fabric over Jaskier’s shoulders and oh, those are rather nice too. Neat triangles of muscle stretching from his neck to the tops of his arms, thick and inviting, just the right shape and at just the right height to be delicately nibbled on.

Geralt shifts uncomfortably. He has no idea where that strange thought came from.

“Now lace me up, will you?” Jaskier asks, flashing him a smile over one shapely shoulder.

Geralt frowns at the strange fluttering sensation he’s experiencing and concentrates on the back of the doublet. It has an elaborate criss-cross of different colours of ribbon running over and under one another, designed to shape the garment. He starts slowly, tugging on a deep red ribbon and pulling it tighter, adjusting the fit, pulling again. Then the next, a lovely bright blue which matches Jaskier’s eyes, and then onto the ivory white ribbon atop it.

As he gently pulls each one into place the fabric of the doublet pulls tighter, accentuating Jaskier’s waist more, each tiny adjustment pulling the garment closer and closer to Jaskier’s body. With each tug, Geralt feels his own chest constrict.

“Come on, tighter than that,” Jaskier says with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t very well go on stage looking like I’m wearing a paper bag.”

Tighter still seems almost scandalous, and Geralt’s heart is hammering now but he does as he’s told. The ribbons are satiny in his hands, cool where they twist around his fingers, and as he pulls each one into place he’s exquisitely aware of Jaskier’s breathing, the rise and fall of his ample chest, the tiny hitch when Geralt lets his hands linger too long.

“There,” Geralt says, when he’s laced Jaskier as tight as he dares. He smooths the fabric flat with his hands, feeling the soft undulations of Jaskier’s waist beneath his fingers. “Now you’re perfect.”

Jaskier turns and smiles, so bright it’s dazzling, and Geralt’s heart leaps and he has the feeling that he’s been caught in a trap.

“You’re too kind,” Jaskier says, and looks up from under his lashes. “Now you can help me with these trousers.”

He turns around and lifts the bottom of the doublet to reveal the delicate laces holding up his trousers, pulled into a delightful little bow sat atop his pert bottom.

“Everything look good?” he asks, and it’s barely audible over the blood pounding in Geralt’s ears.

Sweat pours from his brow. The room spins. The bow stares at him, taunting.

“YESIT’SFINEEVERYTHINGISFINE,” he barks.

Thank the gods, Jaskier hides the accursed bow back under his doublet and turns around. “Just one more thing I need before I go perform,” he says, stepping closer. Geralt stands stock still, not trusting himself to move.

Quick as a flash, Jaskier leans in a plants the softest kiss on his cheek. “For luck,” he says, grinning, before grabbing his lute and leaving.

Geralt: Pretty sure I would have noticed if Jaskier wanted to fuck me.

Jaskier, choking: Uhh... yeah... sure you would have.

Geralt: A witcher can tell these things. We can smell if someone is horny around us.

Jaskier: Erm.

Geralt: Jaskier’s not interested in me. He’s always smelt like that.

Jaskier: Right. Yep.