fic snippet
May. 16th, 2020 08:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2y9eed9
it’s going slowly but i’ve stolen a moment to sit and poke at my various WIPs, it being a weekend, which is meaningless in this era of meaninglessness in general, but.
here’s Jaskier’s Dick Appointment:
Geralt lit the lamp by the bed; it was light enough in here for him to see already, but he wanted Jaskier to be able to see too.
“It’s really hot when you snap your fingers and make fire,” Jaskier said.
“It is… hot,” Geralt said, a little hesitant. He couldn’t mean that literally, it was an inanely obvious thing to say.
“I mean,” Jaskier said, “attractive.”
“I can do better things with my hands,” Geralt said, actually meaning that literally, and Jaskier bit his lip and writhed a little.
and here’s the super-mean sequel bit to Fugitive:
Geralt found himself having to carry the conversation, which wasn’t something he was skilled at. A few nights, he was tired enough to just let it be silent, but mostly he’d find himself making awkward comments now and then, trying to come up with a topic that would get Jaskier going.
It wasn’t that Jaskier was stonewalling him. He just genuinely didn’t seem to have enough energy or attention span to do anything but stare wanly into the fire.
Geralt tried actually giving him details in a few stories, hoping to spark interest. He explained the entire taxonomy of draconids, one evening, including a few of his own experiences to give colorful illustration to it, and Jaskier just made polite noises, nodded a few times, encouraged him to keep talking, but said nothing, and certainly didn’t pull out a notebook to jot things down.
The lute stayed in its case. Geralt wasn’t even sure Jaskier had pen and ink and paper with him, which was extremely uncharacteristic.
By the fifth night, Geralt waited until Jaskier was asleep and went over and did a silver test on him, laying a link of silver chain (warmed in his hand first) against the back of Jaskier’s outflung arm as he slept. He smelled right, but it was possible a curse could fake that. Geralt had been fooled before.
But no. The silver made no impression, and Jaskier sighed and pulled his arm in, adjusting his position.
it’s going slowly but i’ve stolen a moment to sit and poke at my various WIPs, it being a weekend, which is meaningless in this era of meaninglessness in general, but.
here’s Jaskier’s Dick Appointment:
Geralt lit the lamp by the bed; it was light enough in here for him to see already, but he wanted Jaskier to be able to see too.
“It’s really hot when you snap your fingers and make fire,” Jaskier said.
“It is… hot,” Geralt said, a little hesitant. He couldn’t mean that literally, it was an inanely obvious thing to say.
“I mean,” Jaskier said, “attractive.”
“I can do better things with my hands,” Geralt said, actually meaning that literally, and Jaskier bit his lip and writhed a little.
and here’s the super-mean sequel bit to Fugitive:
Geralt found himself having to carry the conversation, which wasn’t something he was skilled at. A few nights, he was tired enough to just let it be silent, but mostly he’d find himself making awkward comments now and then, trying to come up with a topic that would get Jaskier going.
It wasn’t that Jaskier was stonewalling him. He just genuinely didn’t seem to have enough energy or attention span to do anything but stare wanly into the fire.
Geralt tried actually giving him details in a few stories, hoping to spark interest. He explained the entire taxonomy of draconids, one evening, including a few of his own experiences to give colorful illustration to it, and Jaskier just made polite noises, nodded a few times, encouraged him to keep talking, but said nothing, and certainly didn’t pull out a notebook to jot things down.
The lute stayed in its case. Geralt wasn’t even sure Jaskier had pen and ink and paper with him, which was extremely uncharacteristic.
By the fifth night, Geralt waited until Jaskier was asleep and went over and did a silver test on him, laying a link of silver chain (warmed in his hand first) against the back of Jaskier’s outflung arm as he slept. He smelled right, but it was possible a curse could fake that. Geralt had been fooled before.
But no. The silver made no impression, and Jaskier sighed and pulled his arm in, adjusting his position.
