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The idea is that Jaskier sold his soul 200 years ago to a demon (or something) to stay young forever in exchange for doing the demons bidding whenever he asks. His soul goes into a painting which ages for him, and the demon places a piece of himself inside Jaskier in exchange.

Turns out the demon is like, a serious political mover and shaker in Redania and he uses Jaskier as a spy/assassin. Jaskier never cared because he got to travel the continent and be young and pretty and sing his songs

Once he met Geralt, things started to change. He writes a genuinely popular song, for one, and travels with Geralt as he saves kittens and babies and that sense of right/wrong and moral justice start to rub off on him. He starts failing his check ins, half asses keeping his spy network moving, preferring to spend time his following Geralt instead.

Finally after Jaskier utterly fails to assassinate Eist at Pavettas betrothal ceremony, the demon decides Jaskier has outlived his usefulness. Just outside of Cintra, the demon appears to collect the piece of himself back. Jaskier’s soul will return to his body, upon which it will instantly catch Jaskier’s body up to his true age and he’ll pretty much die on the spot.

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don’t think about…

  • geralt trying over and over again to push jaskier away, at first because the bard is annoying with his constant chatter and poorly-crafted songs…
  • … and then because he’s grown to care, far, far more than he permits himself to acknowledge
  • geralt sitting up at night, watching the bard sleep soundly across the campfire, wondering if the next hunt will be the last
  • wondering if he’ll be made to watch as jaskier is torn apart or swallowed whole
  • knowing the beast he’s after could and would devour the fragile thing in a heartbeat
  • knowing that if he’s too slow, if he looks away at the wrong moment, if he gets knocked aside, there won’t be a thing he can do to save the bard
  • knowing that if he fucks up, he’ll lose the only constant he’s come to love
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Ciri: So where are you two going on your honeymoon?
Jaskier, excitedly: Up to Cidaris!
Ciri: And why's that?
Jaskier: Because now that I have a big strong husband, Valdo Marx is as good as dead!
Geralt, hitting his head on the wall: *to himself* It's only been one day, I can still do this...
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Jaskier and Geralt are Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Emotions, It’s Their Emotions)

“Show your face your cowardly whoreson! You, you, you wastrel of a minstrel!” Jaskier clung into his lute as he ducked behind a vendor’s cart. Vespula loudly calling out new and creative insults as she searched for your bard. Honestly if she turned her hatred into song, she’d probably be doing very well for herself. But that was besides the point. The man waited, watching his past love look around quickly before storming off. He let out a sigh of relief when he slid down. Thank the gods-

“Mind if I join you?”

“Eeepp!” Jaskier let out a distinctly unmanly yelp as someone joined his hiding spot. The figure squatting down next to him. “…Geralt? What are-?”

“Shhhh.” The witcher out his hand over Jaskier’s mouth as the voice of an ass called out.

“Geralt? Where’d you go?” Jaskier and Geralt peeked over the cart to see Valdo looking around the town square in front of the university. The witcher pulling the bard down with him quickly as the man looked around. Eventually leaving and Geralt let out a breath of relief.

“What was that about?” Jaskier asked as he stood up, helping Geralt do the same. “You’re supposed to stay off your foot.”

“I know. But then he started singing to me. Calling me a white haired beauty…amongst other things.” Jaskier snickered.

“Oh poor you, actually being complimented must be so hard. Surprised you didn’t punch him.”

“I did. Kept on going on and on, he’s almost as bad as you are.”

“Don’t you dare compare us, or I will drop you.” Jaskier threatened the witcher he was supporting as they walked away. Geralt glancing back curious.

“Inn’s the other way.”

“I know, there’s some place I want to show you first. It’s not far.”

“My leg hurts.” Geralt said causing Jaskier to stop. Pausing before he grabbed the witcher, hefting him over his shoulder. Everyone in the busy square watching as Jaskier began to carry the flustered Geralt. “What in the Gods names are you doing?!”

“Carrying you! I’m a lot stronger than I look you know.” Jaskier laughed.

“I…fine…” Geralt didn’t protest as the bard walked down the road. Jaskier humming a certain song the man didn’t care for. It was slightly embarrassing but if he had to choose between the two bards? He’d take Jaskier in a heart beat.


“It smells like shit.”

“Yes, the lovely Pontar is known for its many sights and smells. Namely drowners and fish.” The sand bank along the river was abandoned as they came to a stop under the stone bridge. “Used to hide here when I was supposed to be taking arithmetic lessons.” He grunted as the bard set down his injured witcher. Joining him on the sand. “Seemed so certain they could beat the math into me. Well look at where I am now.”

“Regretting you didn’t pay more attention during those lessons?” Jaskier elbowed Geralt.

“Hey, I’m not that bad. Besides you’re not one to judge. You learned math what? A hundred years ago?” Jaskier was out of breath. Geralt was impressed the bard managed to carry him that far.

“Mmmm, not that long. Say about seventy five at most.”

“You’re such an old man Geralt, it’s not even funny. Next thing you know, you’ll need a cane to walk. I’ll have the local woodcarver make you one.”

“Try it and I’ll shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.” Geralt was only half joking but Jaskier laughed regardless. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The witcher asked abruptly, leaning towards Jaskier.

“What? That my family is filthy rich?”

“That you’re a viscount.” Geralt watched his bard’s face turn into a frown. “Were you disowned?” Jaskier snorted.

“I wish. Sadly last time I saw my father he was intent on trying to prime me for inheriting his estate.”

“Why’d you leave? You could have anything you want. A place to stay, food every night, no bed bugs…” The witcher itched his neck at the thought. Memories of the disgusting beds they’d slept in coming to mind. “But you left, just to be some bard.”

“I’m not just some bard Geralt. I’m your bard.” Jaskier sighed loudly. “I’ve seen so many things, meet so many people, performed feats some people can only sing about. That’s what I wanted. I would’ve never have met you if I just stayed and became the second Viscount Di Lettonhove. Named Julian. Julian, Geralt. My parents…my mother insisted she loved me but to give a child that name is not fair in the slightest.”

“Did I ever tell you what I wanted my name to be?” Geralt snickered and Jaskier peeked up.


“On the path, we’re encouraged to take a last name. Make things easier. I wanted to be Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde.” Jaskier laughed.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was barely twenty-”

“That is the most pretentious name I’ve heard in my life.”

“That’s exactly what Vesemir said.”


“The man who raised me at Kaer Morhen. He gave me a good slap for it.”

“I probably would’ve too.” The thought of a young Geralt trying to go by that name was almost as inconceivable as it was hilarious. A pleasant quiet taking over as they stared at the river, sun beginning to set. Jaskier watching as the rays caught Geralt’s white hair. He looked stunning. The bard’s voice catching in his throat as he began to move in. Geralt however spoke first, pulling away.

“It’s getting late, we should head back now.”


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As we talked about, this is in the mental illness series. You didn’t have a prompt, so…I just wrote something? Hope you like it! Love you <3 It’s also on AO3.

Grey Days

There are good days and bad days, everyone knows this, everyone goes through them over and over again, like a never ending shit cycle - but no one really talks about the meh days. The days nothing particularly bad happens, but you also don’t crack a smile throughout it. Jaskier thinks if those days had a color, it’d be the color grey, boring and bland with no passion or life. Not black, not white, in between. Jaskier hates those days the most. Even on bad days he at least feels something.

Feeling something is good, fucking great actually. There’s nothing worse than being void of emotion, feeling empty, here but not really here.

So, yes, Jaskier would rather get punched in the face (maybe not the face, because it’s a moneymaker, but the point still stands!) than to just be pushed through life aimlessly.

He knows - logically - that there aren’t bad days or good days or whatever; there are days where bad shit happens or good things or nothing much at all, and if something bad does happen you cling to it and let it ruin the whole day. Even better, he knows that his brain is a traitorous little fuck that is bent on ruining his life, and that sometimes, no matter how much he forces a smile it just won’t work.

Those days, where he feels detached from everything, even beautiful, wonderful, Geralt, usually bring other days of guilt and self-hatred, from ignoring said beautiful, wonderful, Geralt. And now that he’s drowning in all those thoughts, he realizes that the days after the meh days might be worse. Lovely. At least he’s feeling something though, so there’s that.

Keep reading

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Yennefer, being The Cool Aunt™ to Ciri: Ok *demonstrates a spell* so this is what you do if a boyfriend treats you poorly, and THIS *demonstrates another spell* is what you do if a girlfriend treats you poorly.
Geralt: What do you mean, if a GIRLFRIEND treats her poor--
Yennefer: *snaps* WHAT DO YOU MEAN "wHaT dO yOu MeAn" *gestures to Geralt actually holding Jaskier in his lap and playing with his hair*
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@ambersagen: Geralt has something horrible stuck in his hair. Jaskier tries to help, oh no, now it’s in his hair too! Now they are stuck together.

(as ever i meandered)

“Help me get this out of my hair,” Geralt growled and tried to pull whatever had exploded out. But it didn’t seem to be moving. “I can’t see it. What the fuck is it?”


Geralt paused. “What?”

“Whatever is in your hair is moving.”

“Like a bug?”

“If it was a bug, Geralt, I would have already pulled it out and been making several jokes. If it was a tentacle, I’d just be like well those twitch for an 80 after being severed so I’ll just grab it and it can flop on the floor. This is a something new and it is just sort of moving about and I am not touching it.”

“Jaskier, just get it out of my hair.”

“I will suck a drowner’s cock before I touch whatever is in your hair.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt was getting a bit worried because he could feel it now on his scalp and it was tingling and hot. “What the fuck is it doing?”

“Cleaning your fucking hair and I am not touching it until it finishes the job because I see a fucking eyeball in there, and I’ve already gotten three eyeballs out this month. I am off eyeballs, Geralt.”

“A weird, sort of alive, thing is in my hair, and you are not going to help me because it is cleaning my hair and you are on a break from eyeballs.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said with a nod. “It is really adding a lovely lustre to your hair.”

“Looking a little oily there, Jaskier,” Geralt said. He slapped his hand on the tingling, and some of the goo came with it. He reached out and rubbed it on Jaskier’s head, ignoring the bard’s curses. He went to pull his hand away, pleased with himself. And he couldn’t. “Shit,” he said and tugged.

“Ow!” Jaskier glared at him. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Geralt said. He tugged and his hand was stuck. What had been in his hair fell out, landed on the ground. He kicked it. “Hmm.”

“No hmms,” Jaskier snapped. “We are stuck together.”

“Not the first time. Remember the chains in that brothel, or the time we didn’t clean up and sort of stuck to each other. Or the time Yen -”

“Shut up, Geralt. Not the time to be talky Geralt.”

“Your hair is looking better, and I think it is cleaning my nails. Bet we could sell this to a healer, or a brothel,” Geralt pondered. 

“I used to have nice things,” Jaskier bemoaned. “There was soap and oils and no evil goo.”

“Now you just have me.”

“Yes, fine, that is better than soap any day.”

“Weird fucking way to say I love you for the first time Jaskier.”

“Just shut up until the goo is done its job.”

“I love you too.”

“I said shut up.”

And Geralt did.

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Lambert: You’re a skank.

Geralt: You’re a cunt.

Lambert: Your mother left you cause she was a good for nothing whore.

Geralt: Your mother left you cause she couldn’t stand to look at your ugly face.

Lambert: Jaskier never truly forgave you for the mountain incident.

Geralt, launching forward: TAKE THAT BACK-


Jaskier: So… How did Lambert get injured again?

Geralt: He fell on a rock.

Jaskier: Uh-huh. Ten times?

Geralt: Rocks.

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The second chapter of my fic is up!

The Love of a Cat, featuring bard!Geralt and witcher!Jaskier :)


I’m still figuring out tagging on AO3, but I’ll get there. And now that it is the weekend, I can write and write and write all these ideas that have been swirling in my head about this ‘verse!

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So I can’t stop thinking about the Twilight scene where Bella confirms Edward is a vampire, but with Geralt and Jaskier.

Jaskier: I know what you are.

Geralt: Say it. Out loud. Say it!

Jaskier: Dumbass.

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