#toss a coin to your bard

[virtualfotodivision]

My online companion scored a hump-a-dump with Minthara and my character scored a stabbing with Minthara. The only reason my character survived was because some random sentient being in her head told her not to. Not only that, my character is Bard, her groupies are goblins, and I let Abdirak hit her *Shadowheart approved*. I think this is the rockstar life I always wanted.

[seeker-ophelia]

Hjmmmk I have more big feelings about this so prepare yourselves:

#Long Post

Grab Your Tin Foil Hats, Kids!

OK lets REALLY break this down.

Ancient Elven Writing “His crime is high treason. He took on a form reserved for the gods and their chosen, and dared to fly in the shape of the divine. The sinner belongs to Dirthamen; he claims he took wings at the urging of Ghilan'nain, and begs protection from Mythal. She does not show him favor, and will let Elgar'nan judge him."

This guys name is now Sinner.

Sinner commits “high treason.”

What high treason is, gets explained – it is “taking the form of the divine” – we believe this to be turning into a dragon.

*What the verbiage “The Divine” means can be interpreted one of 2 ways:

A) the divine meaning a divine shape, a shape that is common to all of those that are divine (the Evanuris), OR,

B) The Divine, like the shape is unique to The Divine (title), like only Mythal can turn to a dragon.

Either way…

You would THINK

That a FOLLOWER OF DIRTHAMEN, God of KNOWLEDGE, would KNOW, that he is NOT ALLOWED to turn into a dragon, regardless of whether it is the shape of the Gods (plural), or a Mythal-only shape.

Let’s analyze THIS line:

He… begs protection from Mythal. She does not show him favor, and will let Elgar'nan judge him."

Why, why would it say she does not show him favor? If he took the shape of the Gods (plural) in vain, its literally her job to judge him.

Codex entry: The Judgment of Mythal Whenever one of the People wronged another, they would not call on Elgar'nan to avenge them, for his fury would destroy all it touched. Mythal saw this bring strife among the People, and went to Elgar'nan; she offered to deliver justice when the People warred amongst themselves. Elgar'nan saw her wisdom and agreed, binding all to abide by her verdicts.

But she denies Sinner judgement, implying either; the offense to her is so great she cannot stand it (Option B), or she cannot show him favor because she already favors him for some other reason and so would not be a fair judge.

Either way, she hands him over to the guy who is going to judge him too harshly.

So, what does dear old dad Elgar do? One would think the crime for high treason would be death. What’s a punishment worse than death?

Well, if we’re talking about Option B (offending Mythal), How about a lifetime of servitude?

Let’s remember that there are statues of wolves everywhere in the temples, they were not a late addition, Solas did not become the wolf after all the gods were gone, he became the wolf while everyone was still around. He became The Trickster ™ after the fall of the Gods. And if you look at where the wolves are in temples and such, they’re at the entrances, like a guard.

What if Elgar decides to rip Sinner from his servitude to Dirthamen, and instead binds him to the service of Mythal, the Goddess he offended so greatly she couldn’t do her job. Tear off Dirth’s vallaslin, and slap on one for Mythal. Its not so much about shape changing, because if Pride was Wisdom, he can do that on his own (Pride demon eyes=fen’Harel eyes). It is about changing ones purpose. Maybe Elgarnan gave him Purpose. Or Protection. Or Command. Or Faith (in Mythal). Or Justice. But whatever he cursed/gifted Sinner (Wisdom) with, it changed his purpose and that spirit manifested as a solas-fen, fen’harel.

Maybe he’s even stuck in wolf form, he can’t change out of it, and follows Mythal around like a puppy for a few hundred years before she decides he might be more use to her as a full elf.  

I think that the line “she does not show him favor” is really important here, because it will mean one of two things. My option B, where Solas was some random slave and took the form of Mythal-Dragon, or Option C, he was already important to her.

Option C we just simply cannot explore right now. We don’t know how they met, we know they were close, we don’t know Solas’s origin story.

But.

It is interesting where we get this codex, IN Mythals temple. This Codex entry is found in Ancient Elvhen Glyphs (revealed via veilfire) to the right side of a statue of Mythal. We can only decode it if it is the Inquisitor who drinks from the well.

SideBar: Abelas tells us Fen’Harel had nothing to do with “Mythal’s murder,” “She was betrayed by those who destroyed this temple.” Solas says, Ma'las 'a'melin ne ha'lam, Abelas. I hope you find a new name. Maybe names are like curses, placed upon ancient elves with their vallaslin, as Solas (Pride), knows only too well. Or maybe, the naming-people-for-their-backstories is a Mythal thing.

The Codex glyphs are found on the wall to the right of a statue of Mythal - mythals left side. The Left Hand of Mythal.

Hm…

Left Hand of the Divine If the Right Hand of the Divine is her blade in hand, then the Divine's Left Hand is the one concealed in her sleeve. The Left Hand is the Divine's shadow agent who enforces her will through methods that might otherwise blemish the Divine's name.

The Left Hand of the Divine. The shape of the divine.

I don’t know. Co-winkey-dink?

I don’t knooowwww.

Can it also be a coincidence that the reward for completing The Temple of Dirthamen is a shield called Dirthamen’s Wisdom?

I don’t knoooowww.

wolf form thots

this is old news but ive been thinking about this awhile. the general hairlessness/mangey look of solas' wolf form that we saw forever ago in that one trailer reminds me of how the werewolves looked in DAO (save for the werewolves not having tails). like based on this img it seems like the wolf form has hair on its head/face and then has either shorter fur or no fur on the rest of it (save the tail, which we can't see in this pic but 99% sure solas has it b/c of the murals)

and then the cursed werewolves had a fur pattern like this

i just wonder if there's any relation, if the nature of solas' wolf form is similar to their curse (some people theorized ghilan'nain may have cursed solas with the form but i can't remember who/when/where), or if its the other way around and their curse mirrors fen'harel's visage in some way because of Zathrian's (and the dalish's) view of him?

its interesting also b/c the curse is tied to a spirit (witherfang) and theres a lot of speculation about solas originally being a spirit/demon. solas phd havers is this anything

[blooms-in-april]

In Oxenfurt there is a sacred tradition, which no one dares encroach upon: no one can be arrested during a theatre performance. And the scholars of Oxenfurt, for all their learning, are a dramatic, suspicious sort, and so the law stands. It's been taken advantage of by many a drunk and disorderly student, taking refuge in the audience of the Grand Theatre to evade the guard, until inevitably, the curtain falls and their reprieve is over.

When they come to arrest Professor Pankrantz, his students won't have it. He had come back to them quiet and broken this winter, more careless with his dissent, more bold in his defiance. He did not seem to care when the warrant was put out for his arrest, as an elvish sympathizer, a sodomite, and a conspirator against Nilfgaard.

"He knows the White Wolf will save him. He always does." Essi had said with false confidence, but the weeks pass and the university's protection wanes and the White Wolf does not come.

"He's not coming." Adrien whispers, hunched over his songbook. "We must do something."

"We will," Essi responds.

When he hears the guards outside his office, Jaskier puts down his quill for the last time. He swings open the door.

"Gentlemen!" He says. The armored faces are featureless, unmoving. "How would you like me?" They grab and cuff him hard across the head, then frogmarch him down the hall. His head rings like a great bell tolling the hour. He can feel the blood trickling out his ear.

There is a great crash, and a scuffle, and a large hand grabs him by the elbow. "Geralt." He whispers.

But it's not. Jeremiah smiles awkwardly, and holds his dented tuba in one hand. "I used to be a blacksmith before this." The quiet youth says. "Never thought it would come in handy again."

"My dear boy." Jaskier says as he's pulled along. "You shouldn't have. You saved my life."

"Your tutoring saved mine during finals. I think we're even, Professor."

Jaskier is hurried in through the backstage door, crowded with students carrying instruments, costumes, sheet music, and props. They all part way to let him through. "Top box, Professor." Essi says, hurrying him. "We saved it just for you."

He sits down, bewildered, as the guards shout outside and the orchestra tunes frantically. The curtain opens just as the guards make it into the auditorium. Everything hushes in that special breath before a show.

Essi steps on stage.

"Thank you and welcome to the members of the Oxenfurt Academy faculty, staff, and student body who have come to support this performance," she says. "We'd also like to welcome representatives of various law enforcement communities who have chosen to join us in the Academy Grand Theatre tonight. In the spirit of the arts, leave all discord at the door, and please enjoy this special performance by the students of Oxenfurt - 'The Adversities of Loving', a tribute to the life and works of Professor Julian Alfred Pankrantz."

She bows. The audience applauds. The play begins.

[yaskie]

Source: TWITTER Toss a coin to your witcher weapon And Joey Batey is so happy! Our bard is happy!

[cat-cosplay]

🎶 Toss a coin to your Hisser...🎶

[wormholephobia]

When a humble bard

Graced to ride along

With Wyll Ravenguard

Along came this… song?

[queerstudiesnatural]

Toss A Coin To Your Witcher on tenor viola da gamba and lute 🎶

[skj-weebmam]

I’m trying a bit of a new style

[spilledbutter]

jaskier growth:

season 1, episode 2, Toss a Coin to Your Witcher:

From when the White Wolf fought A silver-tongued devil His army of elves At his hooves did they revel

They came after me With masterful deceit Broke down my lute And they kicked in my teeth

...

At the edge of the world Fight the mighty horde That bashes and breaks you And brings you to mourn

...

He thrust every elf Far back on the shelf High up on the mountain From whence it came

VS

the witcher: blood origin, episode 4, Song of the Seven:

Forget what they've told you, for history's fine glow Is tarnished by those who don't want you to know The power of your stories, your songs, and yourselves To take back the land for the dwarves and the elves

So sing loud and proud the song of the seven Be you halfling or gnome, be your dwarven or elven You carry their stories; no oppressor can hide them Carry their glories and rise; we will rise

[rayfishandchips]

ok so among every bunch of roommates there will be at least one person who is unafraid to kill bugs when necessary (if not then GOOD LUCK)

In my case I am usually that person and my roommates play damsels in distress

Now, having started on the netflix Witcher series, I intend to sing "toss a coin to your witcher" the next time I dramatically smash a menace to room peace

yeah none of my roommates would get the reference but it's worth it

[wren-of-the-woods]

Thank you so much for tagging me @soundsfaebutokay and @toss-a-coin-to-your-bard!

Fav color: Blue and green!

Currently reading: Always Coming Home by Ursula Le Guin (I'm loving it so far -- it's beautifully written, very interesting, and references a lot of plants I know which makes me happy), and also Uprooted by Naomi Novik (because it's much easier to read when I'm half-asleep lol). As usual, I am also reading lots and lots of fanfiction!

Last song: Inkpot Gods by The Amazing Devil

Last series: Probably Taskmaster! I am also (very slowly) trying to watch Good Omens -- hoping to finally finish it over the holidays!

Last movie: The Verdict, directed by Sidney Lumet and starring Paul Newman! Both the cinematography and acting were beautiful.

Currently working on: Sometimes it Takes a Prison Cell, my AU where Yennefer and Jaskier first meet in a dungeon. It's Yennskier-centric with endgame Geraskefer, just over 30k now, and I hope to maybe start posting it this week! I love it very much and am ridiculously excited to show it to you all :D

I'm also working on several crochet projects that will hopefully become Christmas gifts!

I'll tag @karolincki @elder-flower @dreamofbecoming @wanderlust-t @samstree @seidenbros @finleycannotdraw @endrega23 @wherethewordsare and anyone else who feels like it!

[authorellenmint]

Me *trying to be nice* Pulls out one gold piece and throws it at a bard.

The Entire Tavern: To arms!

[feykrorovaan]

Did I just go around to every area where I know there are NPCs to busk to get my achievement before tackling the Gauntlet of Shar/Moonrise Towers? Yes. Yes I did.

A bard has to have their priorities straight.

[alons-ycreeper]

Look I don't write for this pairing I pure read fanfic of it and that's it but this one idea keeps festering in my head so here:

Post-mountain, already at Kaer Morhen but like no Deathless Mother shenanigans. Geralt gets shit faced with his brothers as per the winter usual only this time with the added bonus of all his angst physically following him home. Especially the Jaskier-angst. The bard hasn't spoken much to Geralt instead spending all his time with Yennefer in the lab, continuing Ciri's noble education, or helping Vesemir finally organize the library. Basically Jaskier makes zero time for Geralt except for meal times which always have the bard either sitting with Yenn, Ciri, or Vesemir but never near Geralt.

So when Geralt goes to drink with Lambert, Eskel (both game-canon) and Coën he finds out that Jaskier has been slowly approaching his brothers little by little trying to befriend them. It drives the angst and jealousy through the roof and it's not even midnight before Geralt is flat on his ass murmuring "Toss A Coin" in the softest, saddest tone ever particularly on the "your witcher" part. The boys tell their brother to get some rest and the big sad wolf trudges up the step until he stops in front of Jaskier's room. He can hear the bard sleeping, he just wants to check on him so Geralt opens the door and lets himself in.

The bard is a pretty as ever. Quarter-elf blood goes a long way to keep it like that. Then Geralt notices the quill on the desk still dripping with ink. Jaskier is dead asleep.

Quill. Jaskier. Quill. Jaskier. Geralt has an idea.

Jumping out of bed the next morning, Jaskier rushes down to get whatever breakfast is left over. He doesn't notice the others gawking at first too busy feeding himself and telling Ciri that the lessons with him will be combined with Yennefer's today as they'll be discussing court mages. It isn't until he's done that he notices them. Eskel, Lambert and Coën have this horrified-amused look, Vesemir looks very tired, Ciri is blushing so hard her face is as red as tomato and Yenn is glaring daggers at Geralt who seems to be very pleased with himself.

"Something on my face?" Jaskier asks.

"Go look in a mirror, bard." Yenn says not turning away from Geralt who she keeps murdering with her eyes.

So he does. Jaskier goes to the closest mirror and gasps at what he finds.

There written on his left cheek "Property of Geralt of Rivia". Kaer Morhen is about to be down a witcher.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Geralt realising how pissed you are after running into you again…

It was another busy day where knights, men and women of all corners came in to rest their battle-weary feet and drink mead. There would be the occasional brawl but they were nothing when you compared it to battling a cursed wyvern with a blindfold.

You exited the back room having just refilled the pitcher of cool mead when a familiar grunt caught your attention. Just behind a rowdy table of farmers, in the corner, sat the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia - and a bard who was far too chipper while sober.

Inching a little closer, you busied yourself with empty flagons while remaining within earshot of the pair.

“Come on - it’s not a bad lyric. Ah, what do you know? You can wield a sword but not understand the complex meaning behind a beautiful string of words.” The bard said.

Geralt scoffed. “It wasn’t complex.”

An old man slid a few coins across the table for the service which you pocketed and then moved on to the next.

“We can’t stay long.” Geralt told his companion. You glanced back briefly and saw the brightly dressed man staring into his coin satchel, concerned.

“I could swear there was more silver in here. Geralt, I think I’ve been indecently swindled.”

You wanted to confirm that the man could easily have fallen prey to the notorious pick-pockets that haunt the tavern but you stayed silent, now distracted by a customer who ordered some pies.

“Don’t forget the carrots this time.” He reminded.

You wanted to tell him where to shove his carrots but heard your name being shouted from across the floor.

“Y/n, I need a word!” It was the tavern owner who enjoyed paying you less than what you were owed. With a sigh, you trudged over to him away from most prying ears. “You’ve been waiting on those tables long enough. Deliver those pies and refill goblets on the double or I’ll show you out the door.”

You had half a mind to bite back but chose to hold the words at bay. In ten minutes, the pie was ready to be collected from the kitchens. As you walked it to the table, you made the decision to confront Geralt but upon approaching his table, found that the Witcher and his bard had vanished, leaving behind some coins for the hospitality.

Geralt would have heard your name being bellowed. He would have seen you answer the call. And yet, he still left?

Typical!

The farmer who had ordered the food found his plate empty as you swerved around his chair and rushed out the wooden door. Turning left, you followed the small path down to where riders often tied their horses, your own being one of them - spotting the familiar silver hair and lute of the bard.

Words appeared to have failed and rational thoughts had abandoned your mind the second you fled.

Your hand flipped the pie out of its casing and with one, well-aimed throw, found its mark. The bard screamed and the Witcher stopped in his tracks instantly stilling for a few seconds.

Then he turned, his jaw clenched. “Did you throw a meat pie at my head?”

You tossed the empty pan over your shoulder. “You bet I did and I’ll do it again.”

The bard at Geralt’s side grabbed his guitar and hid behind the broad-shouldered man fearing that he would be next. “Oh, they’re pissed. What did you do?”

Geralt exhaled as he pulled stray bits of pastry out of his locks. “I’m not sure…”

“Not sure? You fucking ignored me in the tavern! Friends for years and it doesn’t warrant a simple ‘hello’?” You yelled.

Jaskier peered out from behind, “Oh, he’s always like that. We’ve been friends for several weeks and he pretends to hardly know me - such a jest.” He chuckled to himself quite fondly.

Ignoring the brightly coloured song man, Geralt addressed you, now free from the discarded food. He had indeed acknowledged the your presence the minute he set foot in the tavern but found himself reliving old memories instead - some good, others painful.

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after that business with the striga.”

“The striga?” You repeated, remembering the event he was referring to where he had taken claim over the beasts defeat instead of giving you proper recognition. “That was over a year ago, I was bitter for perhaps a few weeks but no more. But you wouldn’t know that because you ran off with Roach.”

“I didn’t run off - I just - you were injured and I had no reason to hang around while you healed.” The Witcher explained. “In hindsight, I probably should have checked in.”

You nodded vehemently. “And since you didn’t, you’re very deserving of that meat pie.”

“The pie was mean.” Geralt frowned.

“Oh a tale of a strained but beautiful friendship filled with battles and miscommunication - you must regale me with the details.” Jaskier grinned.

You would gladly do so if your old friend would have your company once more. Raising a brow at Geralt, you posed the silent question.

“Don’t you have a job?” Geralt asked.

You squinted in return. “I abandoned my post and stole a pie. I’m surely fired.”

“Fine - but only until the next village.” The Witcher negotiated, knowing full well that his friend would likely be staying for a longer time. He grabbed the reins and pulled himself up on his horse with a small grunt.

You shared a similar grin to the bard and sent a high whistle into the air to call forth your own steed for the journey ahead.

When the horse approached, you took hold of the reins and walked alongside Jaskier.

“While we’re on the topic, I’ll tell you about the time when Geralt fought an ifrit almost fully naked.” You winked and caught the eye roll on your friends face.

Jaskier pulled his guitar to the front and strummed a few strings to start a catchy tune. “Oh, I’m ready for this.”

~ More imagines here ~

[thedemonofcat]

“You love selfishly,” the witch told Geralt, which was pretty presumptuous seeing as how they’d met all of 5 minutes ago. And those 5 minutes had been spent trying to kill each other. “This selfishness will hurt you and those you love. Until you learn to love selflessly, you will only take your pleasure in the pleasure of others.”

Even as the curse took hold, Geralt didn’t panic. As curses went, it didn’t sound so bad. The bit about “pleasure” made it sound like it was about sex. Like, he wouldn’t be able to feel good unless his partner did, which was a standard Geralt held for himself anyway.

Only, the curse was much more than what he had assumed. Geralt soon discovered that food had lost its taste, that he tossed and turned all night. He wasn’t in pain, but he was never comfortable.

Fuck.

Through trial and error, Geralt learned the rules of his curse. It was pretty simple really. He couldn’t enjoy anything in life alone. Someone had to be nearby and enjoying it with him. Their pleasure was his pleasure. If that person wasn’t pleased with a meal—or in general—Geralt’s food would taste poorly too.

This made things difficult for Geralt. He had a solitary profession. Additionally, the people he did meet were never comfortable around him: all scared of hateful or suspicious.

Geralt found some work arounds though. Roach was a lifesaver: if she was eating, he could eat nearby and taste his meal. As long as she slept well—and nearby—he could sleep.

Winter was better: he explained his situation to his brothers, and he was never left without a companion. They offered to travel with him on the path, but he refused. He could endure the rest of the year as long as he had Roach

Geralt considered breaking the curse; however, he honestly wasn’t sure how. He honestly didn’t believe in love that was completely selfless. Relationships were always about give and take. People always wanted things from one another.

Years passed, Geralt endured, and then he met Jaskier.

Jaskier was… odd. He had taken one glance at a witcher, a rumored butcher, and decided that Geralt was his traveling companion. And then his muse. And then his friend. No matter how Geralt tried to disabuse him of any of these notions.

He did admit that having Jaskier with him made the path easier. He didn’t have to carefully time his meals and sleep around Roach when the bard was around. Jaskier was also surprisingly easy to please. Geralt could give him stale bread to eat and a lumpy mattress to sleep on, and the bard exuded joy.

Even while complaining the entire time.

The oddities continued when Geralt discovered that Jaskier didn’t have to eat a meal to enjoy it. Once, Geralt had been grievously injured, and Jaskier had insisted on spoonfeeding him. Even though the bard didn’t eat a morsel, the bard was so happy that the soup tasted like ambrosia to Geralt.

It was all so strange, and it made Geralt strange too. He caught himself thinking about how to make Jaskier happy. Not because of the curse. Because…because it was Jaskier, and Jaskier was meant to be happy.

Geralt loved seeing Jaskier smile, especially when he laughed. He'd never been one for music, but the sound of Jaskier's laughter was the sweetest melody to him.

But there were days when Jaskier seemed lost. Despite his usual cheerfulness and boundless energy, sometimes a deep sadness settled over the bard.

“You need to get up,” Geralt said. It had been three days since Jaskier had refused to leave his bed at the inn where they were staying, and Geralt was running low on coin.

“Then just leave me,” Jaskier muttered. “You always say you will.”

“I don’t mean that,” Geralt replied. “You know that.” This time, his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Leave me alone, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

On days like this, Geralt wondered most about the curse. Was it selfish of him to wish Jaskier weren’t sad? To want to understand the monsters lurking in the bard’s mind so he could fight them?

All Geralt knew was that he loved seeing Jaskier happy.