#oblivious jaskier

[dapandapod]

Scent of spring

*Obi wan kenobi voice* Hello there! Turns out writers block wasn't as done with me as I thought xDD but I'm fighting it!! So this is a piece written for an a/b/o event we are doing at @thepassifloradiscord, because fun, and there is just something about courting that is just so kdkdfjf. Yes, I'm ok, thank you for asking. So please enjoy this little thing, where Eskel is not enjoyin spring!

Here on Ao3

It’s been pouring down for fucking days. 

Spring is the absolute worst, Eskel thinks to himself as he trudges along muddy roads toward his usual inn. 

Not only because of the shitty weather, but also because of all the monsters approaching their mating season, because of the more than abundant pollen, because stupid Jaskier who doesn’t realize Eskel has been courting him for months.

He probably could have been clearer, but Eskel really thought that Jaskier would have picked up on it by now. 

The flowers, clearly coded in flower language to express his feelings for Jaskier. 

The gift, meant to show his feelings for Jaskier in physical form. The silk shirt, to prove that he could provide for his intended mate. The hand holding, to show that he would always be a bastion of safety, warmth and love for his chosen.

Eskel had felt especially brave about the hand holding, as it is not something witchers do, do they?

 But Jaskier had beamed, laced their fingers together and pressed up against his arms, so what was he to think?

When they had said their goodbyes before the winter, he had angled Jaskier’s chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

And Jaskier had looked so dumbfounded, so gobsmacked, that Eskel had turned tail and ran.

Not the wisest move, he admits to himself, but given the way Jaskier had smiled at him and held his hand... Eskel is simply a man.

A drenched man right now, as he stomps through the puddles with Scorpion at his side. 

Fucking mud, fucking rain, Scorpion needs to go to the ferrier to replace a shoe that disappeared somewhere two days ago. 

Most likely when they were running away from a nest of agitated nekkers, and there is no going back for it.

There is only an hour left until he reaches the inn. 

The letters he had picked up after he made it down that blasted mountain were mostly from Jaskier, writing about missing him, and where they would meet in the upcoming spring.

Which reminds him. Another bad thing with spring is his Rut. It usually hits during the late winter/early spring, just in time for him to make it down the mountain and find a whorehouse, or an incubus, or a succubus, or whatever. 

There is just no way of telling exactly when it'll come.

It doesn’t feel right to meet Jaskier just as it starts, like bad manners, but his body is intent on betraying him. 

If he didn’t know better, he would suspect that his Rut is purposely holding out until they meet. 

Which would mean either running off or dealing with it together. 

And Eskel doesn’t want Jaskier to feel obligated, or like Eskel is assuming things will happen.

Despite the rain, he can smell the smoke from the chimneys from down the road. Maybe less than an hour, then.

Daylight is slowly fading when Eskel reaches the outskirts of the village. 

The inn sits at the crossroads, the little dirt courtyard in front of the stable lined with a rickety fence. There is already light in the windows, and a teenager runs up to meet him and Scorpion when he approaches.

“Is there a farrier in town?” he asks, tossing the boy a copper when he grabs Scorpion’s reins. “Don’t touch his hindlegs, by the way,” he warns.

Eskel almost feels bad about leaving the boy with his stallion, but there is a restlessness twisting in his bones. 

From inside, he can hear the strumming of a lute, sense Jaskier’s scent in the air. Warm and spicy, familiar and safe and enticing. 

The boy stammers out a “Yes, master witcher,” and Eskel is moving. He walks towards the inn's door and slips inside quietly so as to not disturb the performance.

Jaskier sits upon a chair in the corner, where the floor is slightly elevated. From the look of the crowd, Eskel is not the only traveler seeking cover as there are but a few tables free at the front.

There is no fucking way Eskel is going to sit in front of the stage. So by the wall he stands, until a table further back vacates. He orders a serving of tonight's dinner and two ales.

When Jaskier notices him, a secret smile graces his lips, his content scent spiking.

“I’m afraid this will be my last song for tonight, fair folk,” Jaskier informs the tavern, strumming up a gentle tune, eyes lingering on Eskel.

His dinner arrives and he promptly forgets about it, held captive by Jaskier's every word. By a song about hoping, about searching.

The sweet gesture of a daisy tucked lovingly behind your ear. 

The soul-warming sensation of a hand in yours. 

A kiss given when parting is inevitable.

There is thin applause when he finishes up, and Eskel can do nothing but stare when Jaskier packs up and approaches his table.

“Hi you,” he says quietly, smiling down at him.

“Hi yourself,” Eskel manages. “I uh… bought you a drink.”

“Such a gentleman,” Jaskier says, stealing Eskel’s drink anyway, eyes gleaming over the rim of the mug. “Did you find a room yet?”

“Was told it was fully booked.”

“Then stay in mine,” Jaskier offers. Tension builds between them now, much stronger than in the past. “You are absolutely drenched. Eat up so we can head upstairs and get you dried off.”

They make their way up to Jaskier’s room after Eskel finishes his meal. The cold is starting to get to him, at long last. 

There is no fireplace in the room, but they make do. Eskel’s wet clothes are hung over chairs and laid out on the small table, even hanging on the lute case.

There is only one bed, but luckily, it's big enough for the two of them to sleep comfortably.

Eskel still offers to take the floor.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jaskier threatens, wagging his finger. “Witchers may not get sick, no, but they get fucking sore and you will be as grumpy as Geralt in the morning, and that is just a crime.”

Snorting, Eskel relents. Soon the candle is blown out and they have settled in on each side of the bed. 

They lie quietly next to each other, Eskel staring up at the ceiling.

“Uhm. That last song you sang…” Eskel says. daring to break the silence, and Jaskier turns his head to look at him. “That was about us?”

“You noticed.” Jaskier smiles.

“Unlike you,” Eskel teases.

When Jaskier doesn’t say anything for a long moment, Eskel grows nervous.

“Eskel... Were you courting me?”

The witcher blinks and his heart sinks.

“I was. Am. But if I read it all wrong, if you're not interested, I can stop,” Eskel offers quietly.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jaskier threatens, turning on his side to face him. He reaches for Eskel’s hand. Their fingers lace together like they haven't spent the entire winter season apart. “But maybe this time, I’ll court you back?”

A kiss is pressed to the back of his hand, and Eskel can't stop the ache in his chest. His entire being screams mate, but he is in no hurry. None at all.

“I would like that.”

They end up curled around each other. 

Eskel presses his lips to the back of Jaskier’s neck, a hand against his chest, nestled under his sleeping tunic.

The trust that Jaskier displays baring himself like this, makes Eskel hold him tighter, press him closer. One day he might put a mark there.

Pressing a kiss to the nape of Jaskier’s neck, he spreads his hand wider. He feels greedy, wanting more when he is allowed so much already.

But there is more to talk about, more topics to discuss.

For now, Eskel is more content than he has been in years. The sweet smell of Jaskier, his heartbeat under Eskel’s palm.

Maybe spring isn’t so bad after all.

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

Geralt hasn't stuck around a human for this long before, so at first he thinks nothing of it when Jaskier comes back to him year after year, looking just the same. And when he doesn't die even after he must've passed sixty in age, Geralt chalks it up to the fact that any human would live past the expected when protected by a Witcher. He does get a little suspicious when Jaskier still looks the same after a century on the path together.

[witcher-inspiration]

I propose that Jaskier has always had enhanced Witcher senses and just never realized that it wasn't perfectly normal.

"What do you mean of course humans can hear the heartbeat of other people? Do you even know how many lyrics there are about hearts stumbling? Listening to the heartbeat of your lover???"

[pixlatedvampire]

I love this disaster bard sm you don’t even know 💕

[thequeeninyellowlace]

For @93rdnavigator (and also @wren-of-the-woods):

Jaskier: *draped semi-naked over his grand piano in the firelight when everyone except he and Geralt are on a hunting trip*

Geralt: *walks in the Great Hall*

Geralt: *stares*

Geralt, puzzled: “Aren’t you cold?”

Jaskier, lounging, holds up a large vial of wood oil. “Oh, Geralt! I didn’t see you there! I was just going to polish the piano—gotta make sure it stays nice and moist.” Geralt stared at him, dumbfounded.

Jaskier, keeping eye contact with Geralt, upended the bottle of oil all over his own chest. Oil ran off him onto the shining case of the piano. He smiled, then put his hand down to push himself up seductively. His hand slipped on the now-oily piano top.

Jaskier, frowning: *tries to sit up* *slides in the oil, which is now pouring off the sides on the piano* *flails* “Fuck!” *slides straight off the piano onto his ass on the floor*

Geralt: “What the hell, Jaskier?”

🤣🤣🤣

[devilpetvolpe]

The scars I carried for you

“What’s this?” the baritone voice startled the witcherling, he hadn’t heard the other witcher coming up behind him. He’d thought himself alone, the last of them to be up that night and allowed himself to relax. His neckline fell loose and unbuttoned. Were he using his usual glamor then he would have thought nothing of it but since Vesemir refused him use of it, he felt an extra level of bare.   

He tried to tidy himself up, righting the collar when he heard the older approach. A gentle hand caught him by the neck though and stopped him. Eskel eased the fabric down farther, pulling it to one side to locate what he had seen. A thick hand bracketed where an old scar rests. The younger shivered when callouses caught the skin as Eskel brushed his thumb over it. 

Now was not the first time he’d wished for his glamor. He knew it was too soon to be fully without it. While he enjoys attention he dislikes feeling too seen, especially in this moment. ”What’s this?” Eskel repeated, his voice low in volume and timber as he asked nearly in Jaskier’s ear. Another gentle touch caused a shiver down his spine.    

“It’s,” an awful twisted stab wound, “uh, he” his throat constricted and he swallowed to alleviate it, “he liked the way it felt.” Jaskier explained carefully as if that conveyed all one would need to understand. 

It did not, “What? The blade in his hand?” 

Jaskier wet his lips. Shame weighed his gaze causing him to drop his head down further. “How it felt,” he repeated, emphasizing the word deliberately and carefully, “around him.” He allowed himself to get caught up in the memory for a moment. Mind tunneling in on one of many horrific memories. 

He’d stabbed him from behind, blade having pierce threw the meat scraping the bone of his clavicle on its way out. All orifices clenched in his pain and again when he twisted it. The other side had a scar too, small in the dip under the bone. Small enough to pass as a mole or freckle.

Eskel sucked in a breath between clenched teeth at the implications. He pulled the shirt further away, stretching it in a way that if Jaskier were fully present would start a fit. He examined the area fully, aside from the twist of the blade there were little white marks making up an oval in the flesh. Teeth marks, a bite mark deep enough to draw blood, deep enough to scar. “Jul-” but he was cut off.

“I have the witcher prerogative,” his voice was haunting in its hollow. Spoken from a far off memory, “the build but not the training.” Eskel waited with breath held as the younger continued in that halting format. “It’s much harder to nullify the situation when it’s with men. Women are much simpler creatures.” Jaskier halfway came back to himself when Eskel squeezed his shoulder. “ but no less awful.” the last sentiment murmured morose and with more conviction.

There were many a bedfellow whom shown interest in Geralt for the novelty of it and then there were those who were interested in the lack of consequence. So many who’ve been screened by the bard as the interested party ask for a good word. He had a knack for it at his point. Could tell the one from the other. And if he thought they would give up if he were to turn them away then he never would have allowed himself to play the distraction. 

Convince them that they wanted him rather than the Wolf. A quick twist of his ring and a flash of gold soaked eyes. Always with promises of testing his stamina, and other thresholds. Women clawing nails into his skin while they ride him, men who stab and cut or broken bones. He’d been told he thrashes beautifully the more intense the pain. And in the morning it would all vanish under a glamor, no need for concern and his precious White Wolf was safe and none the wiser.

The weight of Eskel’s forehead rested between his shoulder blades, grounding him in the here and now. His collar was righted and an arm wrapped around him keeping him close. “Thank you,” it was absurd being thanked for his suffering, “Thank you for taking care of him.” The other’s hand clenched in the cloth over his chest. He couldn’t help but feel like it was one of the only things keeping him together in this exact moment.

In an almost detached movement he reached up to wipe the tears from his own eyes. “It’s what you do for love,” for twenty years, he took the hurt intended for his love. Still hopeful and blissfully unaware that he had not a chance. For his hopeful position was already taken by the witcher that clung to him now.

[hannibard]

Say what you will about the witcher season 2 but all the "Yennefer took Jaskier in the divorce", "Geralt and Yennefer are a divorced couple rasing a kid and dating the same man", "geraskefer love triangle with an oblivious Jaskier in the middle" memes and fics were top tier

[nightshadeadfornow]

Since we've already have a canonical confirmed bi Jaskier ...

...and that JASK nickname thrown in the pot

I petition for a canonical, obliviously in love, geraskier moment. Like actual scenes, not fanon presumed cuz of Joey's great onscreen chemistry with all his costar types. I mean, jaskier radovid is fire, but og geraskier fan for life?

[thedemonofcat]

Certain rules bind all Fae, including Changelings. As Geralt embarks on a journey with Jaskier, he swiftly discerns Jaskier's changeling nature, even if the bard remains oblivious. Fae, though seldom seen, wield considerable danger. Geralt, curious about Fae rules, begins experimenting with them on Jaskier.

As Geralt and Jaskier's bond deepens, Geralt explores actions that are believed to bring joy to the Fae.

[tielmamon]

Jaskier thinking he both fell first and fell harder for Geralt. Completely oblivious to the fact that Geralt is actually obsessed.

Local drunks going missing after spending an evening in a tavern a certain bard had stayed in. Flirty stable boys suddenly no where to be seen after handling a horse that was known to be traveling with a witcher and his bard. High position noblemen found dead in their bedchambers, seemingly of poison the morning after a grand ball. So grand infact that they had Jaskier the bard, the famous troubadour perform for them.

Coincidences? Geralt would grin and tell you they most definitely were, all while his hand lay firmly on the small of Jaskier's back.

[ladyannemarie5]

Funny how Geralt always stayed on the sidelines with Jaskier's conquests for fear of a broken heart and yet he got a front row seat to watch the bard fall in love with the prince.

Geralt would cut the bard off when he started talking about the virtues of whatever man or woman he spent the night with, but he had no choice but to listen to Jaskier when he told him how the prince learned his song, because the poet appealed to their "best friends" bond.

Geralt smiled inwardly when the bard left his conquest for the night alone to go order him a bath and wash his hair with special soaps and oils after the hunts. And then the witcher had to witness Jaskier leaving him to go order Radovid a bath because "his long blond hair has never been anything less than perfect and cannot be left uncared for, Geralt." 

Geralt always distracted the bard with a story of past hauntings with terrifying creatures every time Jaskier began to compose a love song for his conquest, but nothing could distract the poet when he began to talk about how beautiful and bright Radovid's eyes were and how he wanted to find the perfect words to describe them. 

Geralt faked annoyance every time Jaskier asked to sleep next to him at night insinuating that he was too cold for a little bard. Geralt feigned relief when Jaskier told him that he would no longer bother him with that because he now slept with Radovid and his arms and fur blanket were more than warm. 

Geralt kept as much emotional distance as possible from the bard who approached him in a tavern in Posada so he wouldn't have to deal with a broken heart from falling in love with a human. 

But absolutely no distance in the world prepares him when that night while they were camping alone, Jaskier lying next to him and looking up at the stars, turns to him and says softly "I'm not in love with you anymore, Geralt. You don't have to act cautious around me anymore."

And Geralt can't say anything. Because he simply can't. He must have misheard, maybe the kikimore from earlier hit him too hard or something because there's no way, no world where Jaskier was in love with him. There's no way he would have wasted his chance. 

Jaskier, oblivious to the witcher's stupor, continues "I know I made you uncomfortable with my affections for you, I tried hard not to throw myself at you if I'm honest, but Radovid... I've fallen so much in love with Radovid that I'm ready to let you go. I'm sorry it took me so long to give you and Yenna peace."

Geralt looks up at the stars in silence, not believing what he just heard. Jaskier is about to turn away when Geralt takes his hand. He says nothing, just a simple squeeze. Jaskier breathes a sigh of relief, the witcher doesn't hate him for that, he doesn't ask him to leave as he had feared. Geralt is also relieved that he is no longer burdened with the bard's feelings. 

Geralt allows himself to hold his hand one last time. He allows himself a small luxury, so that he can silently mourn the loss of his bard and curse his own stupidity. Tomorrow he will watch as the bard is reunited with the prince, tomorrow he will watch with a broken heart as they embrace and the prince spins Jaskier in his arms, before kissing him and swearing eternal love. Tomorrow Geralt's heart breaks completely. 

But just for today, just for that night, he allows himself to take Jaskier's hand, draw him into his arms and breathe freely the scent of the man he has been in love with for over two decades. Just for that one night, Geralt allows himself to be happy.

----

I really love to make me cry ^^

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Accent

Jaskier has a Northern accent that he works really hard to hide. He learned early on that most people, especially among the nobility, considered Northerners to be lower than peasants. A Northern accent was a black mark on the person, labeling them as bumpkins or hill folk.

Jaskier saw how anyone with an accent even remotely close to Northern was ridiculed and bullied both inside and outside of Court. So he spent a lot of time practicing speaking in a Court accent until he perfected it.

By the time he went off to study in Oxenfurt, he had become comfortable with the new accent, and it sounded completely natural. He didn't have to worry about being looked down on, or ridiculed, and he discovered that a lot of people found a Court accent attractive.

But there was always that fear that he was going to slip and some one would find out about his Northern accent. He was terrifed when he started following Geralt, and when he met Yennefer.

Geralt never said anything, but he could hear that Jaskier's accent wasn't natural. There were slight differences in inflection, and pronunciation, and tiny inconsistencies that normal humans would never notice but a Witcher's sensitive ears easily picked up on. Whatever the reason was for the affectation was none of Geralt's business.

The more time Geralt spent with Jaskier, the more he noticed the little slips in this Court accent. He figured out the reason for the fake accent when he started hearing his real accent come through.

Geralt remembered the first time Jaskier's accent had slipped out.

The had made camp after a long day of entertaining at the town festival. Jaskier had been very tired, and he was upset about a few things Valdo Marx had said to him. He'd laughed it off, turning the insults and insinuations into an improv song that had the crowd laughing and cheering him boistrously before sweeping him away to the closest inn for a round of drinks while Valdo stood fuming impotently.

But now that they were alone, he'd allowed himself to feel the hurt, and his accent had taken on a sing-songy quality, and he'd gone hard on his T's for a second when he referred to Valdo Marx as "that b**tart!"

Oh, f**k!

Jaskier internally panicked the second he realized he'd dropped his affected accent. Ok, calm down! Maybe he didn't hear. You know he tunes you out most of the time. Act natural, pretend like everything is normal!

Jaskier continued rummaging through his pack, sneaking a quick glance at Geralt while continuing to insult Valdo as he shook out his bedroll, flapping the blanket aggresssively before laying it out. Geralt seemed oblivious, his attention on gathering deadfall for the fire and digging out the fire pit.

Jaskier allowed himself to breathe a silent sigh of relief. The Witcher hadn't noticed. Thank all the gods!

Geralt was scraping out a little pit for the fire when he heard Jaskier drop his accent for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bard freeze for a split second, and Geralt calmly continued with his task as if he hadn't noticed. All the while he was thinking "He has a Northern accent! No wonder he sounds off sometimes!"

From then on, Geralt started really listening, intrigued and wanting to hear more of his real voice. He caught little snatches of it here and there, mostly when Jaskier was drunk, tired, upset, or excited. Or when he thought he was alone, and was composing a song or poem.

Geralt was always careful to never let on that he noticed when that lovely, sing-songy accent slipped out. It was hard, forcing himself to keep that big stupid smile off his face that threatened to come out whenever he heard Jaskier 'go Northern'.

When Yennefer came into the picture, Jaskier was on edge, constantly on guard to keep his Northern accent hidden. She was the last person he wanted to find out about it.

She already hates me. No reason to make her think I'm stupid, too!

He did an excellent job of hiding it, not wanting to give the witch any ammunition in their perpetual war of words. He finally bonded with her, saw her as family like he did Geralt, and he doubled down on keeping his accent a secret.

He could talk to her about anything, show her every side of him, like he could with Geralt, but the accent was one thing he did not want to share. He was terrified that she would look at him differently. That both of them would. He didn't think his heart would survive that.

Yennefer had been fighting for her life the first time she heard Jaskier's Northern accent come out.

Jaskier had caught a fever while performing in one of the towns. He was delirious, and Yennefer had been getting him to drink a potion and he'd just completely dropped his affected accent as he started talking random nonsense to her.

She had paused as she was tucking him back in, staring at him in disbelief as he chattered on.

Yennefer had squealed in lowercase.

"Oh! My! Gods! He's, he's got a-!"

"Northern accent. I know. He's been faking a Court accent-!"

"I know what it is, and it's f***ing cute!"

"Gods you sound like a giddy little maid!"

"Like you can say anything, Geralt, when you're standing there grinning like a boy who's just gotten his first peek at a pair of tits!"

Yennefer and Geralt never let on that they knew, and it bothered them that Jaskier didn't seem to feel like he could trust them. They understood why he was hiding it, though, so they satisfied themselves with enjoying the rare times when it slipped out.

It was not heavy, like many Northerners' accents were. Jaskier's accent was lighter, more delicate, but it did tend to get heavier when he was in an emotional state.

They did their best to pretend they didn't notice the little lapses, but they couldn't help but smile when it happened. And Jaskier eventually figured out that they both knew--had known for a while.

Yennefer had run into them in town, and they were having dinner in their room at the inn. Jaskier had been chattering on about how one of his sets had gone, and he'd gotten a little too excited. Yennefer's eyes had gone soft and...and sparkly, and she'd glanced at Geralt, whose face was lit up with the sunniest smile which he was desperately trying to hide behind his tankard of ale.

OhHhH f**K, tHeY'd hEaRd iT!!!! He froze, going stock still. Any minute now, they were going to start lauging at him.

Geralt just smiled and took another drink while Yennefer just kept looking at him with that, that adoring look. That was when he knew.

"When?" Jaskier had asked, mortified after he realized.

Geralt had swallowed his ale with a thoughtful 'Hm' and replied. "A few days after you started following me around. Your accent sounded off, but I wasn't sure why. Figured it out after you started b*tching about Valdo Marx one night."

Jaskier mentally kicked himself. Of course a Witcher would have been able to tell!

"And you?", he asked Yennefer

"That time you had that bad fever. You babbled on in the most intriguing accent about everything under the heavens. We got to listen to it for two whole days!"

Jaskier hid his face in his hands, dinner forgotten as he slid down in his chair with an embarrassed groan.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because we knew why you were hiding it, Lark", Yennefer said, "I've been in Court. I know how the nobility are."

"You don't have to hide it anymore. Not around us," Geralt said.

"You...you don't think I sound...stupid?"

Yennefer tapped him on the head with her empty plate as she walked by, "No, you little b*llend! It's sing-songy and cute, and you sound adorable!"

It took him some time, but he was finally able to let himself relax and stop using the adopted accent with Yennefer and Geralt.

He would forget sometimes, because he was a performer, and an act could be hard to put aside. Especially if it had helped you survive for so many years.

It would sometimes take an hour or two after a long day of performing for the public for Geralt and Yennefer's 'Sing-Songy Twit' to relax enought to drop the Court accent and be himself. And when he did, one of them would always say warmly "There you are, Jaskier!"

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 10

Geralt has monstrous eyes. He has claw-like nails. He has fangs. His skin is deathly pale. He is disgusting to look at. Everyone thinks so. He's beginning to realize he loves Jaskier, but surely someone as gorgeous as Jaskier would never want anything to do with someTHING like him. Jaskier is about to start ripping his hair out and frothing at the mouth he loves Geralt so much. Jaskier's kink is Geralt. Just Geralt. And all the "weird" traits Geralt seeks to hide from him just make Jaskier love him more. But it's been a decade of flirting with the dunce. Surely if Geralt felt the same way, he'd bring it up by now? There's no way he's THIS oblivious to Jaskier's love for him, right? Right?

[a-prompt-archive]

I still love that scene where Joey Batey sings "Burn Butcher Burn". the emotion in it is amazing! and it really gets me thinking...

How perfectly fitting is the phrase "Watch me burn all the memories of you" ?

(this shit got too long, click the "Keep reading" so this doesn't take up a big part of your dash )

During Rience's torture he starts singing the song. Rience doesn't stop him, smiling instead because for sure this is a sign that the bard is cracking! He nearly has him! But something starts to build. Some innate magic that Jaskier has (that he might or might not know about, writer's choice) uses the song as a spell or rather ritual and builds upon it, using Rience's fire magic to boost itself and turns that one phrase into a reality!

Firefucker notices the drain on his magic too late to do anything about it. He can just watch as Jaskier erases huge parts of his own memories to protect Geralt and the child surprise (he may or may not have met before, another writer's choice).

Rience curses and is about to kill the now useless bard when Yennefer arrives to save the day.

However the dialogue after the safe is such that Yen doesn't notice Jaskier had lost his memories of Geralt! After all, the maagic erased Geralt, but not anyone else. To protect his sanity, Jaskier's magic has constructed a sort of fake memories or blurriness so that he doesn't question how he could have met Yennefer, or who he could have written those songs.

Fast forward to Geralt finding Jaskier in prison.

Now this could go either of two ways.

First way: Geralt notices that Jaskier has no idea who he is, but he still has info about Yennefer, so he brings him along, (potentially slightly unwilling) in some sort of strange reversal of their beginning years. Attempting to spark the bard's memory along the way and hoping Vesemir has a solution.

Second way: Netflix-Geralt is rather oblivious and Jaskier is smart enough to notice that whoever this guy is, he's his ticket out of the jail. So he pretends to know this person and gets dragged into these situations he was not expecting at all. so it's only after the battle at the end of s2 where people notice that Jaskier has absolutely no fucking clue who Geralt is. With Geralt having written of any weird responses Jaskier might have given before then to the fact that he's still angry with him.

[thebibliosphere]

Did you have any thoughts on the prophecy in the last few minutes of blood origin? The editing seemed to imply that Jaskier had something to do with it which has caused some grumbling from people who want more book accuracy.

The people who want more book accuracy have been grumbling about things deviating from the books since the games came out :p

Honestly, everyone would be a lot happier if they just realized we're traversing down parallel timelines that look similar but have their own stories to tell. We're essentially watching Wither fanfic with a Netflix budget. Would that more fandoms have such coinage.

Anyway, yeah, I do have some thoughts about it.

Spoilers under the cut!

So just to recap the last few lines of the prophecy, "the Lark's seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all times, and one of her blood shall sing the last."

You get the general gist that Lark/Eile's bloodline is being referenced, and Jaskier gets to break the fourth wall a bit by quite obliviously going, "wait, what, who?"

The elven woman then commands him to "sing the song of the seven, Sandpiper, so the oppressed may find hope and strength and make ready for the great change to come," ensuring that Jaskier's voice is tied to how things end no matter what.

But let's jump back a bit and break things down some more.

Focusing on "the first note that ends all times," I believe that's meant to be a reference to Ciri's power. We've seen what happens when she screams; imagine what some training and time with Yennefer will achieve. Girl is going to end the universe as we know it. Again.

But wait, who is the "and one of her blood shall sing the last?"

Why, it's our dear bard, of course!

This implies that Jaskier is related to Ciri in some way, which I don't find all that implausible, no matter how much some people are grumbling about it. He's a Viscount, after all. And royal and noble bloodlines are so thickly interwoven in this universe that all their family trees look like wreaths if you squint. Sometimes you don't even need to squint. (and that is book accurate.) It's entirely plausible that Jaskier and Ciri are thirteenth cousins twice removed on their divorced great aunt's side. Or somebody had an affair. That's just as likely.

If anyone is still skeptical about this theory, Jaskier's nickname, Sandpiper, is also a type of bird, tying him back to Lark again. Lark is the bird that sang at the start of the world as we know it; the Sandpiper will sing as it ends.

It's quite heavy-handed, and I'll be surprised if the show doesn't run full tilt with it. It'd also let them handwave away why they forgot to age up Jaskier in season one. Surprise, elf blood!

Now, I know why people are mad about it because the person in the book who is telling the end of the story is meant to be Ciri.

But this is not the book series. This is the Witcher Netflix series, and they're giving the narrative burden to Jaskier, which IMO makes more sense given his tendency to break the fourth wall and that it's his voice we hear at the end of every season finale, singing through the end credits.

He is quite literally going to be the last song we hear as the series ends. It makes narrative sense to pass the burden of retelling the story on to him.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Witcher TedTalk.

I'm going to be so mad if the showrunners don't do any of this and pull some complete batshit fuckery out of their arses as a twist.

[jasxier]

As much as I ove the idea of Jaskier pining for Geralt for the entirety of his adult life, I am equally fascinated by the idea of Jaskier being totally oblivious to the fact that Geralt is in love with him. 

And so I give you this. Imagine the two of them having a “bonding time” around the campfire and Jaskier asks “what’s your type?” and Geralt is delighted!

J: Ok, i want you to answer this one, please, you suck at this game, really. What’s your type? When it comes to people.. we’re NOT talking about horses! G: Hmm.. J: I won’t take any hmms as a valid answer G: I was thinking! J: Yeah right *gets a kick as a result, that bastard deserved it probabbly* G: Well, soft skin..soft hair J: Good, at least we’re talking about humans this time, good! G: *killer stare but goes on bcs he’s so amused by the situation* Warm skin, inviting arms.. J: *delighted* Geralt!! I didn’t know you knew so many words! G: *tries his best to hide a smile* Moving on!!! hA, you’re gonna love this one.. Big tits! J: Oh yes, you’re right *stares longingly into the flames* G: Broad shoulders.. J: That’s quite unusual, I must admit, but with the right choice of clothing everything is possible G: Chestnut long-ish hair, *looks at the back of J’s neck* yeah, reaching the neck J: Cool, cool, i can totally picture her! You want me to compose a little something about this magicall lady? G: I’m not done yet.  J: Oh, sorry! Do go on! G: As tall as me.. J: *is bewildered* i don’t remember seeing you with a lady this tall. In fact, i don’t remember ever meeting a woman as tall as me! Though I would be OHOHO SO PLEASED TO MEET HER! G: Back to our topic! Hmmm, ah... small pouty mouth that never shuts up. J: That’s oddly specific but go on! G: *is having the time of his life* Blue eyes, beautiful long fingers . J: *stares at the void then his hands then at the void again* G: Has an incomparable singing voice.. J: Waaiit... G: Plays a lute J: *surprised picachu face* Fuck! aaand they kiss..