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taintandviolent · 8 months

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Ride ; Jimmy Darling x Reader

summary: 7k words. Jimmy tries to get you and your friend to ride the carousel, but she swoops in with the cock block of the century. Jimmy takes it real hard, but maybe... maybe you can change that by the end of the night. aka: a little angst, a little fluff, and a whole lotta smut that centers around a carousel. w a r n i n g s: female reader, female receiving, angst, mild fluff, kinda slow burn, fingering, unprotected sex, public sex, rough sex. a/n: I have a problem... I've always wondered what it would be like to fool around on a carousel, and who better to explore that idea with than Jimmy Darling??? be fr. he's the one who would do it. comments are appreciated! full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

It was a beautiful day, really. The sun was out, the sky held big, white clouds as fluffy as the cotton candy in your hand, and by grace of whatever God, the bugs had decided to stay away. The fabric of the tents fluttered, making snapping sounds every time the breeze caught it.

Your bag swung at your side as you two walked through the field, passing the main tent. You’d wanted to see the Freak Show, but Debbie resisted, claiming that it wasn’t “good for us to see God’s mistakes” which you thought was a horrible and cruel thing to say, especially since you’d been teased in school for being so flexible. Some people’s bodies were just… different.

“I wonder how some of them eat.” Debbie sneered, bringing wretched images to mind. Although you hadn’t paid for the Freak Show, the posters of all the… talent… told you enough. Debbie expected a response, but you said nothing, feeling like the way you ate cotton candy was a privilege. You knew it was, and knew not to take it for granted.

“Carousel rides!”

You snapped your head to the left, searching for the source.

The man standing on a wooden crate outside of the operator booth proudly shouted the words over and over again. Children tugged on their mother’s dresses, pointing. Many of them were towed away with a frown, but a special few were treated, their mothers pulling change from their handbags as they approached him. For the most part though, throngs of people passed him, ignoring him. They’d come for the Freak Show, and didn’t want something as normal as a carousel. He’d grabbed your attention with his boisterous voice, and as soon as you two made eye contact, he took that as willing prey. Sure, you understood why; two girls, all by themselves enjoying a casual day at the Freak Show… “Just a nickel for the ride of your life!”

“Ladies!” He stepped down off the box, making a beeline for you. Your friend immediately stiffened and started tugging you away, but you stood fast. He was handsome enough - you’d at least give him the time of day to do his little pitch. With an annoyed huff, Debbie crossed her arms across her chest, rolling her eyes skyward.

“Care for a ride on the carousel? Let the pretty horses carry you for a few minutes, huh?” He crooned.

Debbie laughed haughtily, shaking her head. You pinched off another piece of cotton candy before laying it carefully on your tongue. As the sticky sugar dissolved, you kept your eyes on the man, smiling a coy, come-hither smile. Finally, you swallowed and spoke again. “I used all my money on the Ferris Wheel. You’re awful cute though.”

He grinned boyishly, leaning closer to you. He reached forward, carefully curling his fused fingers in, so as not to scare you as they neared your face. To him, hiding his fingers was a force of habit. You seemed like you might not have cared… but the risk was too great. With a soft, warm smile, the Lobster boy dragged his thumb across the corner of your mouth, removing a small fluff of cotton candy from the corner.

“Y’think so?”

You nodded, your soft curls bouncing with the motion.

“Well, in that case, baby, it’s free of charge for pretty girls.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s true.” You cooed, leaning forward towards him. Surely that would get him in trouble with the big boss later. He glanced at your lips briefly before answering, and that sent a wave of undulating heat through your core. You couldn’t help but feel special at the mention of ‘baby’ even though you were certain that he called at least fifty girls a day the same thing and more. Despite all his lavish flirting, Debbie remained unmoved. In fact, a nasty scowl had developed on her once standardly pretty features.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you’re gonna turn down a free ride on a carousel now, are ya?”

Debbie yanked your arm again, pursing her lips. “She sure is - get lost, freak.”

Immediately, his debonair expression morphed into something much less friendly. Under a furrowed brow, his dark eyes narrowed into slits, darkening his once-amorous gaze. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring with anger. As you were towed away, you tried to throw him an apologetic frown, but he’d already turned away to kick the wooden crate he’d been standing on far into the field.

Eve was making her rounds, checking in on everyone as she usually did. For not having any children herself, she had one hell of a maternal streak in her. Her and Ethel both looked after the troupe like they were their own, and that meant making sure that everyone was holding up throughout the day before they had to be corralled for the show. Jimmy had been assigned carousel duty that day, a position he usually shone in. His chipper attitude and undeniable charm brought the crowds, but when she walked up on the carousel, she could tell that Jimmy’s mood had soured. Over what, God knows, but she intended to find out.

A soft hand came down on Jimmy’s shoulder. “What’s going on, sweetheart? What’s that face for?”

“It just ain’t right, Eve. These gals, they’re so pretty… and they’re full of coyote piss. Worst manners I’ve ever seen.”

“I know, but you can’t let ‘em get to you. You know they’re gonna’ say something, sweetheart. It’s the same in every city, Jimmy… there’s always at least two that have nothing nicer to say. Like your mama’ always tells you, it says more about them than it does you.”

Jimmy knew she was right. He knew every single word that ever came out of her cherry-coloured lips was always right. Strong and wise — that was Eve. So why had those two particular girls gotten under his skin so much? He knew why. Underneath all the bitterness, he knew it was because you had been the prettiest girl he’d seen in this city — maybe in a few cities — and that made the cruelty cut a little deeper. Sure, your friend had been the one to make the comment, but you hadn’t taken him up on his offer and you sure as hell hadn’t stopped her — which had to mean that somewhere, deep down, you agreed with her.

Antsy, Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck before craning it to look up at Eve. He offered her an appreciative smile, assuring her that he’d be fine in a few, just needed a bit to cool off. So far, she wasn’t buying it.

“It’s ‘cause she was pretty, wasn’t it? You always get so hung up on the pretty ones.”

That was another thing — nothing got past her.

Your breaths rushed out in tired pants as you ran through the field, clutching your purse to your side. You’d ditched the cotton candy in a bin so you could run freely. Arguably, telling Debbie that she needed to get head on straight might not have been one of the best decisions you’d made this summer. Debbie was your ride home, and that had hammered in that you’d have to walk to the nearest store and ask to use their phone if you wanted to make it home that night. What she’d done just didn’t sit right with you… and you were going to make it right. Besides that, if the rose-tinted fantasy you’d created in your head went as planned, you might have one of the best nights of your life.

You were completely out of breath by the time you got to the carousel, but he was still there, holding the gate open for a group of teenagers as they scurried out like little mice. A very tall woman stood next to him, hands on her hips. She turned to you first, and quirked a single brow.

“Hi,” you breathed. “I wanted to ride the carousel. And um, talk to him.” You jabbed your finger through the air, pointing at the Lobster Boy.

“Well, I don’t know about our boy Jimmy, but the carousel is a nickel, honey.”

You stared for a moment, processing what she’d said. You stuck your hand in your purse, fishing hurriedly around, praying to God that a stray nickel would be nestled in the crevices. After breathily apologising several times in the awkward silence, you finally produced a silver coin, holding it out in your hand, proudly. Before the tall lady could take it, two conjoined digits laid atop your palm, pushing it downwards.

“Carousel’s closed. Lunch break.”

Now or never. “No, wait… please. Listen, I’m sorry about my friend. She… can be such a—”

“Oh, you mean callin’ me a freak?” He asked.

You recoiled, the bite in his words was harsher than you’d prepped yourself for. You swallowed, and straightened up, mustering up the courage to continue.

“Look, Mr. Darling, I really —”

“Oh, we care about names now, huh?”

He was really bent out of shape over this. You took a deep breath, pressing on. “I really did think you’re cute, and I would’ve ridden the carousel right then. I’m sorry that my friend said what she said. She had no right and I don’t have any right coming back here, but… I just… I had to apologise.”

He seemed to consider your words. You thought you saw a flicker of something in those deep, black coffee eyes of his but his expression remained stony, his arms stayed tight across his chest. The woman next to him shifted, nudging him slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to find the confidence to continue presenting your case, but the nerves took hold. The two of them remained impassive, unwilling to see past your friend’s heinous attitude, and you could hardly blame them.

With a small, courteous bow, you turned harshly, cutting yourself off. Any words that came from your mouth were going to be downright foolish, so you marched away from the pair, leaving a frustrated cloud of dust behind you. You thought you heard the woman call back to you, but you ignored her, not wanting any other bruises on your ego.

Thankfully, by the time you’d made it to the outskirts of the main field, Debbie hadn’t left. After some sappy apologies, some agreements that that guy was a jerk, and a promise that you’d buy her soda at the diner, she agreed to stay friends. She thought you were a lunatic for even considering him, especially with those hands he had. You offered to buy her some sweets at the store too, and with a penchant for candy, she agreed and threw the car into drive. It was her father’s car, but she sure didn’t act like it.

The store wasn’t far, but it felt like an eternity with the way she reprimanded you. Worse than your mother would. You rode in silence, sulking — as if it wasn’t bad enough that you’d been shot down out of your pink, cotton candy sky of delusions by Jimmy Darling. You almost opened the door before she’d stopped the car once you two had arrived.

As you stood in the candy aisle, you bounced on your heels. Debbie scoured the rows of jars for her preferred types, you began picked at your nails absentmindedly. It was inevitable that your thoughts drifted back to the red and white striped tents, to the wooden horses with graceful feathers atop their heads, and your mind conjured up the warm, sticky sweet scents of caramel and cotton candy. Jimmy Darling… your expression soured. For all you knew, you’d been blacklisted from ever seeing the show or setting foot on the fairgrounds. Anywhere.

“Alright, let’s go.” She barked, yanking you out of your stupor. Her arms were full of candy. Jeez, is she going to buy the whole store?!

On the way to the diner, you drove, because Debbie was far too invested in her candies to want to drive down the road a few miles. The diner was positioned just near the field, which was a terrific business decision on the owners of the Freak Show. From the vantage point of the tables outside, you could see the Freak Show in all its glory. The Ferris Wheel spun slowly.

From where you sat, you could see the tip of the carousel, and for a brief moment, wondered if he was still there. Was he still calling to people? Had he found another pair of girls, both of them charmed to death by him? Was he guiding them to the horses with a wink? You hung your head, spinning the straw around in your glass, watching sadly as the soda bubbles rushed to the top.

“Well, look who it is.”

Your face fell, the last bit of colour draining from your face. You clocked his voice immediately. That drove a burning stake of embarrassment through your chest, sending you into a flurry of emotion. You turned sharply on the bench to face him. There he was, as handsome as ever, standing next to another man you recognised from the posters, the one who had the fire breathing act. Without thinking, you scowled at both of them.

“Can I help you?” Lips pursed into a tight, angry line. You were hurt more than anything, but you were putting on an extra show for Debbie.

“I sure hope so. I can’t get your face outta’ my head, doll. It keeps —“

“Oh, we’re smitten now?” You mocked the way he spoke to you earlier. Your voice was sharp, biting, and a reflection of the cracks Jimmy had put in your heart. You felt it, he heard it. You were livid. Now he wanted to talk, now he wanted to give you a chance when a few hours ago, all you’d wanted was a chance to apologise, to make wrongs right and he couldn’t give you the time of day.

“Run back to your Freak Show, Jimmy Darling.”

“Only if you’re coming back with me.”

Debbie straightened up, mouthful of jellies. Even she, in her anti-freak state, couldn’t deny the charm the man held. Her eyes darted between the two of you, waiting to see who would fold first.

“Why should I? So you can humiliate me again? Make me apologise only to shuck me off as nothing again?”

“You went and apologised!?” Debbie blared from behind you, her mouth sticky.

“Hush up!”

Jimmy smirked to his friend, who reciprocated the expression, clearly impressed by your sudden fieriness.

“Huh? I asked you a question, Jimmy.”

“Well, see…” he paused, clearing his throat. “I was just upset back there. But my friend here talked me down, and I—“

“Oh, how nice of him. Maybe I should’ve found him and asked him for a ride.” The words were accompanied by a sneer. The man next to Jimmy tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans and smirked. It was a suave, dangerous smirk and you caught yourself; almost letting your eyes linger a little too long. As he closed the distance between you two, Jimmy cleared his throat again — a nervous habit.

“Listen, doll face…” he muttered.

Debbie was waiting to see who would fold first… and it was going to be you, because when Jimmy Darling sat down next to you on the tiny little bench, and leaned his elbow on the table, your whole body felt like Jell-O. He smiled hopefully, staring into your eyes. Even Debbie stayed quiet then.

“C’mon… whaddya’ say? After the show tonight, say around… nine o’clock?”

If it were possible, you would’ve told him no, but the way your gaze softened would’ve given you away. So, instead of lying to him, you took a deep breath and turned back, making brief, embarrassed eye contact with Debbie before returning your attention to your very interesting soda.

Jimmy waited a few more moments, but finally got up without another word. His friend muttered something you couldn’t hear. You were proud of yourself and how resilient you were acting, because deep down, you wanted to run back to him, clutch him at the collar and beg for his attention again. But you didn’t, and he didn’t come back, just walked off down the dirt road with his friend, laughing and joking. Your only option now was go to see him at nine o’clock.

Somehow, even though she was still sore, you convinced Debbie to see a movie after you finished your sodas, just to pass the time. You’d gone and apologised and made her look bad, so she was mad at you and made that known. As you munched on popcorn, you thought about lecturing her on her choice of words, but ultimately, decided against it — she was rooted in her ways and you in yours. The hours dragged and the movie was no help. You couldn’t even recall the plot as the images flashed before your eyes. Some romantic plot, but you were too busy thinking about your own plot with Jimmy Darling, the Lobster Boy. Too busy swimming in his deep, brown eyes and basking in his bright, poster-boy smile. You’d give it all just to see it again… just to see him look at you the way he had this afternoon.

Eventually, the movie ended and it was just about eight-thirty — enough time to get to the field. Debbie may have been mad, but she still offered to drive. She swore up and down that she wouldn’t pick you up, however. That was alright, you mused. If you had your way, you wouldn’t need a ride home.

About that time, Jimmy leaned against one of the horses. There was a part of him that was screaming that this was a waste of time and there wasn’t a chance in Hell that you were coming. Another part that was more gentle, softer, and more romantic whispered quietly in his ear that something in your eyes earlier today had begged for him to touch you, to hold you close to his chest and nuzzle his lips against your neck. Girls were funny creatures, but boy did he love ‘em. Even through all the tribulations and mood swings, Jimmy was obsessed with those long-legged, bright-eyed, pink-lipped girls. There was just something about them.

Given his unfortunate circumstances, Jimmy didn’t particularly see himself as a Casanova, but the reality of it was that he was every bit of that. In every city their caravans pulled into, Jimmy always found himself a handful of girls who would swoon over him, and another select one that was adventurous enough to be moaning his name by the end of the week. He was doing ‘em a service, giving them a taste of the wild side of loving.

You approached from the opposite side of the meadow, passing quietly by the Ferris Wheel. Everything was abandoned, the circus-goers had long since left, leaving nothing but empty popcorn bags and heavily trodden grass. The main tent was alive with chatter though, full of people. You assumed Jimmy wasn’t in there, and when you craned your neck to look over, you saw a black woollen hat poking over the top of one of the horses.

“I’m here to ride…” you said quietly, approaching from behind.

Jimmy spun around to the direction of your voice, a delighted smile on his face. He was thrilled — over the moon, in fact. In a flurry of excitement, he yanked his hat off his head and threw it to the ground before latching onto one of the twisted golden poles. With a small laugh, he swung himself off the carousel onto the grass, the blades folding underneath his weight. He rushed up to you, like he had earlier in the day, and immediately, his gaze locked onto your lips, glossy with some sort of lipstick that you’d put on just before showing up.

“I didn’t think you’d make it…”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you said. “I think you knew very well that I would.”

“Sure, maybe I did.”

You gazed up into his pitch dark eyes with a smile. For such an inky set of hues, they sure were warm. He looked back down at you, tilting his head slightly. A love drunk, half-lidded look washed over his features and with a breath, you mirrored it. You rose to your tip-toes, biting the corner of your bottom lip.

That was a look of wanting a kiss, and boy was he glad you’d given him the green light on that one. Jimmy placed his hands on your elbows before slowly sliding them up the backs of your arms. Once they reached your shoulders, he pulled you in closer. He lowered his head with a smile, and finally, your lips met in the softest, tenderest kiss you’d ever had in your life. “C’mon,” he said, breaking the kiss as he took your hand. “You came here for a ride, and I’m gonna’ give you one.”

With your smaller hand in his, Jimmy wasted no time in leading you to the carousel. After a little deliberation, you chose the tan horse with the beautiful, golden plume on its headdress, its head reared up in an enchanting whinny. You hoisted one leg over the horse’s wooden body, holding your skirt down in the middle to avoid flashing the man behind you. Once you were situated, Jimmy took hold of the worn leather strap at your waist, wrapping both arms around you to slip the prong into the size-appropriate hole. Both his large, vascular hands came down on either hip, giving you a gentle pat.

“Gotta’ strap you down, in case this horse decides to take off.” Jimmy teased. He gave you a wink before stepping off the carousel and making the short trek to the operator’s booth. After he’d slipped inside, he flipped a switch and pushed forward on a lever. The music started first, breathy and light. Shortly after, the carousel gently came to life; the horses that were high dipped gracefully, and the ones that were low, rose ever so softly into the air, until they were all galloping in unison.

You held on, delighted. Even though you were no longer a child, riding a carousel still held a certain joviality. The horses went up down as light as air, and you moved your body with their motions, stretching up and curving down as they circled around their track. You wondered where the rest of the troupe was. Surely, they’d heard the sweet, mellifluous sound of of the calliope as it drifted over the tall grasses and rode on the soft breeze, inviting anyone who heard it to come for a ride, come for a ride.

Jimmy stood just in front of the carousel, watching as you swept by, circling round and round. Every time you caught a glimpse, you blushed. You didn’t have to be a mind-reader to hear his thoughts; he was admiring the way your body seemed to course with energy, following the movements of the animal below you, and matching their gait. He figured you’d do that with him, too. God, I sure hope she does.

The carousel was going slow enough that Jimmy could step on without injury, but even then, he was skilled enough to do it at a higher speed. He waited until the black horse passed and then quickly hopped on. He was several horses behind you, which meant that you’d be looking for him out in the field on the next rotation. And you were — he saw your neck lengthen as you looked for him, turning slightly as you passed the spot where he previously stood. Jimmy travelled from horse to horse, his hand flattening on the hard, wooden rumps of each of the horses as he passed them. As he approached, you were none the wiser, still giggling softly to yourself and swaying delicately to the music.

“Havin’ fun?” He asked, laying his hand on the small of your back. Instead of lurching upwards in fright like he expected you to, you melted into his hand. With a sigh, you dropped your head to the side, thankful that it landed on his shoulder. You got a whiff of his warm aroma; he smelled like a carnival would, a perfume of popcorn, cotton candy, warm grasses and sun. You took a few deep breaths, calming your nerves. With the euphoria of the carousel, you were already so full of emotion. Now arousal? Just because he touched your back and you smelled him? Poor little fool. You weren’t sure you could handle another overwhelming sensation.

“This is the most wonderful carousel I’ve ever ridden,” you confessed dreamily. “And I’ve ridden so many.”

“This ol’ girl?” He asked. He stroked the horse next to you, fingers dancing lovingly over the tresses of the horse’s frozen mane. “Aw, shucks. She probably loves hearin’ that. She’s been with us since… hell, since before I’ve been apart of the show.”

He looked up, watching as the oiled gears rotated, bringing you up and down. Him and Eve had repaired this thing a handful times, and his mother had even sculpted a new head for one of them. The white one, on the other side. Of course, she’d done such a good job that barely anyone noticed. There’d be a day where she’d break down so bad that they couldn’t fix her, but today wasn’t that day.

You’d made quite a few rotations by that point, and the songs would start repeating sooner or later. He asked: “Had enough?”

“I could ride this all night, Jimmy. All night.” You replied.

“How ‘bout you ride something else?”

Your jaw dropped open, but Jimmy closed it with a knuckle. Immediately, he started to stammer nervously, unsure of what had come over him.“Gosh, I’m sorry, that was uh —

You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips into his warm, plush ones. You didn’t want to hear an apology. There had certainly been enough of that today. His hand cupped your knee, caressing it softly. The feeling took your breath away, leaving nothing but a quiet little whimper that vibrated against his lips.

Moving away from your knee, Jimmy’s hand trailed upwards until he met the thick fluffy petticoat of your dress and flipped it up, delving underneath before it fluttered back down. His thick fingers grazed your slit over your panties, feeling the heat that radiated from it. You weren’t sure if you’d already started leaking into the satin, but whatever Jimmy felt was enough for him to break the kiss and gaze deep into your eyes.

“Baby, baby… c’mere.” After freeing you, Jimmy hoisted you up into his arms wedding-style. Your arms wrapped around his neck, which you immediately took to kissing and nipping playfully at. His breath hitched when you did. Careful not to hit your feet on any of the horses, Jimmy navigated around each of the horses. He finally reached his destination, and set you carefully down on the swan chair, making sure you were comfortable before sinking into the spot next to you.

“I’m real glad you decided to come tonight.” He murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I meant what I said about not bein’ able to get your face outta’ my head.”

“Well, I meant what I said about you being awful cute.”

Jimmy hurriedly crawled on top of you, supporting his weight on the back of the chair. His head hung between his shoulders as he leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours, his warm breath washing over your cheeks.

“I want you real bad,” he slurred. You picked up the faintest hint of alcohol on his breath, biting and strong. “I need that heat, baby.”

The fabric of his dark jeans were pulled taut with his growing arousal, and when you hooked your fingers around the top of his belt, your fingers grazed the warm skin of his tummy. He whimpered as you tugged him closer, urging his hips into yours. You wanted it, batting your lashes with wanton intent. God, he thought. I could fall head first into those doe-eyes if I’m not careful…

Slowly, Jimmy began grinding into you, bringing himself as close as he could with clothes on. You were so soft and warm underneath him. It drove him crazy. You whimpered pitifully, closing your eyes and melting into his touch. One of his hands was on the back of the chair while the other was beneath your ass, pulling you up to meet each of his thrusts.

“Harder, Jimmy.” was all you said.

Jimmy thrusted deeper, rolling his hips back and forth and grinding against your centre. The hardness beneath his jeans bumped against you, rubbing determinedly against your cunt. The friction was just enough to get him stiffer, but not enough to satisfy. Like a lover persisting that something was too much, the wood creaked louder. Jimmy slowed his grinding, looking up at the old neck of the swan. “We oughta’ move this somewhere else… I dunno’ if she can handle…”

“Handle what?” You asked, out of breath and distraught that he’d stopped. The tiniest beads of sweat decorated your hairline. Jimmy had you worked up and only from some heavy grinding.

“Well, to be honest doll face, what I wanna’ do to ya’.”

Your cheeks flushed, hotter than the surface of the sun. They had to be beet-red as your eyelashes fluttered shyly at him. “Jimmy…” you whispered. He grinned, and took a few steps back, extending his hand towards you. Your curious eyes trailed down, sweeping over the bulge in his jeans. You weren’t the only one who had gotten worked up, it seemed.

You took his hand and he pulled you off the swan seat with ease, his bicep flexing underneath the cuff of his sleeve. As he led you off the carousel, your hand was swallowed by warmth and size. The journey was short, but the reason for the destination was obvious; it was secluded and out of view. Behind the carousel, between two smaller tents, the grasses were high, swaying back and forth with the breeze. Jimmy sat down first, pulling you down onto his lap.

You needed no instruction from the man beneath you; your hips began grinding back and forth on his groin, picking up where you two left off. He groaned and fell onto his back, weakened with pleasure. You could see his skin flushing with arousal. A smile curled around your lips, feeling more powerful than you could ever remember. Jimmy was beneath you, panting in ecstasy, and all you had to do was wiggle your hips back and forth to make him come undone. You bit your lip, planting your hips hard, and shimmied back and forth, feeling his bulge grind against your swollen clit. Jimmy practically whined at that. It was a high pitched, desperate, breathy sound.

“Baby…” He leaned up, his chest heaving. “You’re drivin’ me wild.”

You nodded, knowingly. It wasn’t a secret that you were driving yourself wild; you were certain that by this point, you’d left a sizeable wet spot on his jeans. Your hands moved to his chest, taking your time with his shirt as you carefully pulled each button out of its slit. Once they were undone, you pushed the shirt off his round shoulders, letting it fall to the grass below. Jimmy watched you intently.

“Where’s my strap now?” You asked, tracing circles on his bare chest. His skin was tanned and warm, like it had taken the warmth of the summer sun, absorbed it and made it its own. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss on the flesh just above his nipple. Jimmy hissed in response, lifting his head to look at you.

He looked at you curiously, a single eye brow lifted. “Your what?”

“My leather safety strap… you know, in case this Lobster takes off…”

“Ohoh,” Jimmy laughed a low, sweet molasses-like chuckle. “Oh, baby. He will. But don’t you worry, I’ll hold onto you nice n’ tight.”

You pressed your lips against his, humming an excited laugh into his mouth. Feeling adventurous, you reached down the front of his jeans. Right away, the tips of your fingers were met with a velvety hot tip, slick with pre-cum. You swept the pad of your thumb over the slit, smearing the clear fluid over the tip. His heavy, swollen cock was already sensitive from the grinding that you two had been doing, so the slightest touch had him bucking his hips into your palm. The motion pushed your hand farther down into his jeans, allowing you to feel his stiff cock, and the heat that radiated from it.

“Jimmy,” you cooed. “You’re so hard…”

“Well, ‘course I am baby… you think you can move those hips on a guy like that and nothin’ happens?” As he spoke, Jimmy’s long, conjoined fingers gripped your hips, urging them back and forth again as if you to remind you what you’d been doing. Your body obeyed, undulating back and forth, riding the base of his cock, while your hand stroked just below the tip.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, baby, just like that…”

You kept up, easing more pre-cum from Jimmy’s tip. Your blush had spread to your neck, a direct result of you being embarrassed by your provocativeness. You’d never been this dirty in your life, and your first sexual encounter had been far less licentious than this — but it all felt so natural with him.

“Ahhh, alright — I’m gonna’ lose it, baby. You gotta’ stop…” He said, abruptly yanking your hand from his jeans.

“Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong with that?” He echoed, pausing to kiss you. “What’s wrong with that is…” Another kiss. “I want inside uh’ you…” Another kiss, and he looked down at your body, watching as your chest heaved with each hot breath that left your lips. He wrapped one arm around you, flipping both of you over so that his body was atop yours. Feebly, you cleared your throat. The knot in your stomach wound tighter as you scooted back from him, arranging yourself and laying down on the shirt.

“C-could you… use your fingers first?” You faltered, sounding more nervous than you actually were. The question was fuelled more by curiosity than fear. Jimmy’s cocoa-coloured eyes seemed to darken even more, mischievously.

“First, huh?” An adorable crooked smile cut across his face. With lips pursed, you shot him a sideways glance. By this point, he had to have known what you wanted, but acted as aloof and innocent as ever. He returned your glance with a wink, knee-walking himself closer to you. With a tight breath, you shimmied out of your panties, setting them next to you in the grass. Your dress skirt had enough length, providing a layer of protection between your ass and the ground.

He stretched his hand, curling and uncurling his long, conjoined digits, like a runner stretching his legs for the marathon ahead. You had him feeling nervous, like a virgin on prom night, so he was thankful for the familiarity of using his hands. He was used to this part. He knew how this went.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, eager to watch. Jimmy’s fingers fell to touch you, nearing your entrance. The tips of them grazed your slit, slipping along your drenched folds and spreading the wetness. His thumb circled your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. The muscles in your abdomen immediately tightened, and a searing ache started just above your bladder. A breathy moan left your lips as you arched your spine upwards in white hot ecstasy.

“Feel good? Tell me, baby.”

“Y-yeah,” you whined. “Yeah, it does.”

He looked down at you, craning his neck to get a better view. You were more than ready; leaking like a faucet. You’d probably been ready, but Jimmy was usually a gentleman and favoured comfort over speed. He did it with all sorts of girls all across the country, for cryin’ out loud. He knew how to get ‘em worked up enough that he could bottom out in one thrust. But of course, he rarely did. They didn’t want his cock, they wanted his freak fingers.

But not you. You wanted all of him.

Jimmy held his breath as he curled one set of pincers back towards his palm, inserting the other into your cunt. He exhaled heavily; it was warm and slick, the sweetest thing he’d ever felt.

“Hohh… babydoll…” He closed his eyes, and began pumping. You were already writhing and panting underneath him. Jimmy grinned bright. He loved the noises that all the pretty girls made when he touched them, but there was something special about the noises you were making. You were expelling these short, high breaths, and thrusting your hips to meet his fingers each time. The immediacy of his need hit him like a freight train. His cock twitched in his briefs, demanding attention. He needed you. Now. His cock tensed again, urging more pre-cum from the tip.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

He prayed to the stars above that you’d say yes. When he saw your curls bounce with the motion of your nodding, he heaved a sigh of relief and flopped over, reaching into his jeans to free his cock from its cloth prison. You couldn’t help but gawk at the way that it stood attention, red and angry and looking for somewhere to go.

“C’mon. On top. I’ll give you the real ride uh’ your life now.”

You gathered your dress and petticoat into your hands before throwing one leg over his waist. Beneath you, Jimmy held his cock, guiding it blindly over your slick folds. You whimpered every time the hot tip bumped into your aching clit. Straightening up on your knees, you paused, doubting your ability to take him all in one go. He sensed your hesitation.

“It’s alright baby, take it nice n’ slow.” His accent was like honey, dribbling out and coating your heart in a warm, sticky mess.

“I’ve just never,” Jimmy pressed a conjoined digit into your lips, shaking his head. “Don’t gotta’ explain yourself. It’s gonna feel good to me either way.”

Your knees spread, slipping against the warm grass as you lowered yourself down onto his cock. At first, the squish of his head was comforting and the heat felt good — really good, but then it was the strain of your cunt trying to accept his girth. You forced your hips down further, and your cunt swallowed the head and half of the shaft.

“Ohh… my god.” As the stinging stretch subsided, making room for his thick cock, a deep moan echoed over the field. Gingerly, you moved your body up and down, feeling full and tense. Jimmy made a fist in front of his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Sure, he got some tail every now and then, but it was his hand more often than not. He led a “satisfy them now, worry about yourself later” kind of lifestyle, and all for a couple bucks.

But this… this…

He groaned loud, unconsciously thrusting his hips and stuffing the rest of himself inside of you. His cock bottomed out, veiny and pressing against your slick walls. You winced, overcome by the sensation. It was almost too much, but you took a deep breath, and kept at it.

Jimmy’s chocolate eyes softened, full of adoration, as he watched you, feeling your body tremble. She’s never ridden anyone before, save for those horses.

“C’mere, baby. Keep that ass up, and I’ll do the work.” Jimmy’s warm arms wrapped around your back, pulling your chest to his. His arms enveloped your, warm biceps pressing against your shoulders. You nuzzled your nose into his neck, and that’s when he took ahold of your ass, digging his digits into the marshmallow-soft flesh of your cheeks. You backed your hips out slightly, adjusting to the new position.

With a slow breath, he started thrusting up into you. His cock was so slick, messily slipping in and out of you with ease, and the way it was hitting you, the way the ridges of his head popped in and out of your cunt… made your eyes rolled backwards.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” you panted, meeting his hips. “I promise.”

At first, he didn’t answer, only craned his neck up to kiss you hard. His tongue delved into your mouth, swirling hungrily along yours. You moaned into his mouth. Loud. His large hands, spread out on your ass, moved up and down with each thrust, using it as leverage. You gripped his broad shoulder tight, nails leaving crescent moons in his skin.

“I know, baby… I know you don’t.”

The melodies of the cicadas and the rustling grasses hardly concealed the wet slapping of his thick cock as it pounded into you. Loud enough you were sure that someone could — and would — hear. But it felt so good. You couldn’t stop even if the entire freak show was standing around you, watching, taking notes.

He fucked harder and the feeling of his cock as it massaged your cunt, hitting all the right spots at a gentle curve had you whining into his ear. In your shoes, your toes curled tightly, almost cramping. You begged for him, cried for him, and told him how good it felt. He groaned, moaned and growled in response each time you did. Called you angel face, baby doll, and honey — names that sounded so good on his lips. You shuddered hard against his warm body, drenched in sweat.

Jimmy let out a series of pants as he picked up his speed. You were so close, whining brokenly with every hit of his cock. With a sudden deep sound, his whole body tensed. The veins in his neck popped and his teeth clenched tight, sounds of ecstasy breaking free from between them. You felt the heat of his cum coat your insides and it sent you over the edge — your own orgasm ran after his, clenching around his cock, and leaking down onto his thighs. His thrusts slowed sporadically, twitching up into you before they finally subsided.

He wrapped his arms around you as his cock softened inside of you, both of you panting in unison. Subconsciously, he was protecting you from the chill that would inevitably settle on your sweat-coated body. As he stared up at the stars, the twinkling little pinpricks of light, Jimmy Darling promised you another ride — one home. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that this was his last weekend in your quaint little city. He wasn’t quite ready for that devastation yet.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @redwoodghost / @elsamarss / @silverzoomiesies / @kaisbasementwhore / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @evansb1tch / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @enchanting-evan / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake/ @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha/ @randodummy / @throwinginmythai /

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#Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy Darling x you #Jimmy Darling x yn #ahs smut #myfics #shout out to stephen sanchez for being my JD inspo as of late

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thelostgirl21 · 7 months

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When you read some of the things you'd written before watching Season 3, and they suddenly take on a new meaning...

His "weapon" isn't a sword, magic, or even his lute. After all, "Whoreson Prison Blues" sounded fantastic accompanied by spoons!

Yes. Spoons always make Jaskier sound fantastic. Jaskier really knows how to work with spoons, and work those spoons!

All Jaskier truly needs, to sound great and inspired, really, is a spoon!

Give Jaskier a spoon, and they'll be making sweet music together... Both literally and figuratively...

He doesn't need a weapon, he's one of the single most influential character of the series, in a sense, just by virtue of existing and doing "what he does best" - being an impulsively chaotic bard either seducing or pissing people off; and just touching things he probably shouldn't touch, and putting random stuff in his mouth.

Radovid, Comma Prince of Redania: *Spends his whole life doing everything he can to stay under the radar, be kept out of Redanian politics, and appear really dumb, incompetent, and drunk (note: although he was only pretending to be drunk with Jaskier in that scene, I think Hugh Skinner mentioned that Radovid does drink quite a lot to cope with everything that's going on, though, sort of as a way to "self-medicate") so people will let him be.*

Jaskier: *Shows up.*

Radovid: *Intensely crushes on him. Forgets he's supposed to play dumb, and instead offers actually good and sensible arguments as to why Jaskier Cirilla should come live with them in Redania.*

Jaskier: *Shows willingness to listen to Radovid, and offers to do what he can to convince Geralt and Ciri to accept the offer, should they find a way to get rid of Rience.*

Philippa: *Is impressed, and compliments Radovid on it.*

Radovid: *Immediately attempts to go back to playing dumb, hiding, and hopefully being of no interest to her or anyone else at court.*

Jaskier: *Shows up again, flirts with Radovid, lets him know that he's not fooled by his dumb drunken playboy prince act, utterly seduces him with a song (and as many "come hither looks" as one can humanly make fit in a single encounter) and humbly asks for his help.*

Radovid: *Falls even deeper in love with him, drops his act with Jaskier and agrees to help him. Suddenly gets deeply involved in Redanian politics. Argues with the spymasters that, maybe, they should start using carrots with people instead of sticks. Puts Philippa on Rience's trail, while letting Dijkstra know about his brother's secret meetings with Nilfgaard (probably counting on him to change Vizimir's mind regarding his plans of handing Ciri over to the Emperor), regularly starts showing disdain for Dijkstra's methods and gets himself on the spymaster's "shitlist"...*

Of course, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know:

Queen Hedwig is dead,

King Vizimir is dead, and now he's

Radovid, Comma King of Redania.

Right at the start of the second war between the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire, no less...

With his sister-in-law and brother's murderer(s) still likely running around the castle somewhere, and working for the people that just put that crown on his head...

And the love of his life still out there, risking his own life, hopefully having managed to reunite with Geralt, and now facing who knows how many dangers to attempt to go rescue Ciri...

So much for staying under the radar and avoiding to get politically involved!

Jaskier: *Seduces the Prince of Redania and uses his lips for extraordinary things...

...accidentally triggers a series of events that changes Redania's line of succession, and totally upends the power structure and dynamic of the strongest kingdom of the Continent!*

By this point, I would almost expect Geralt's response to learning that Vizimir has been assassinated, and that Prince Radovid has ascended to the throne, to be:

"Alright Jaskier, what did you do?"

Obviously, I knew that Prince Radovid was rumored to be Jaskier's new love interest in Season 3 back then... But I had absolutely no idea what Radovid's character would be like in terms of personality, motivations, etc.

Turns out that they found Jaskier a love interest that is basically as directionless and lonely in life as Geralt used to be in Season 1. Someone that doesn't want to get involved in politics or any of those games people in position of power like to play, and is basically just going through the motions of his life...

Until Jaskier shows up and, suddenly, he finds himself right at the heart of those politics, forced to make decisions and choices that will shape the future of the whole freaking Continent!

The main difference is that Geralt sort of continuously fought against Destiny, tried to ignore it, deny it, and push it away. And then, he blamed Jaskier for everything that went wrong and attempted to cut himself from him!

Whereas Radovid just immediately found himself irresistibly drawn to it and embraced whatever changes Jaskier brought into his life, while starting to make choices and take risks out of love without ever blaming him for it, or making it sound like he remotely held Jaskier responsible whenever things misfired or went wrong.

And even when things do go horribly wrong, all Radovid can think of, apparently, while looking at his dead brother is "going to see Jaskier."

But then, Geralt is much older than Radovid is and, from what I understand, has had his dreams and hopes crushed quite a few times whenever he's let his guard down and dared get attached to people in the past.

When you keep suffering loss after loss after loss... at some point, you probably figure that the best way to avoid loss is no longer feeling like you have anything valuable to lose. If you need no one, then you won't risk losing anyone.

Whereas Radovid's never had anyone from his own world he was able to genuinely emotionally connect with. And suddenly, he finds someone that sees him and is making an effort to attempt to understand him - something and someone he's discovered that he needs and doesn't want to lose.

But yeah, it's really fascinating, on the show, to see the way that our beloved bard just keeps... basically causing stuff to happen!

For better or for worse, Jaskier is making people that seemingly don't want to get involved be involved, and making them discover whatever their purpose appears to be in the grand scheme of things!

Yennefer:

The "Destiny" that brought them together:

And now that Lauren Hissrich has clearly stated that Ciri wasn't the descendant of Éile and Fjall that the prophecy was referring to in "The Witcher: Blood Origin", one has to wonder if it could be Jaskier.

Okay, first I just want to address people saying that it's sort of a "retcon" on what she'd said in the past and that she'd "all but confirmed it was Ciri already", because I actually found that interview and listened to it, and that's not quite what I took from it.

I mean yes, I can see how it could have been interpreted the way it was, but what she actually said is:

"Éile's pregnant, at the end. And we know that that's part of Ithlinne's Prophecy; that there is a seed in her that will eventually lead to someone who's important in the Witcher's world.

So, as someone who, for instance, on "The Witcher" 's side, follows Ciri and the origin of her genes and her blood... It's like, I kinda wanna know where that character's gonna go.

I wanna know if these two things are going to, you know, crash into each other at some point."

So, the way I personally understand it is that:

"Blood Origin" introduced the idea that there currently is someone, in the Witcher's world, that is connected to the Ithlinne's Prophecy by blood (by virtue of being the descendant of Fjall and the Lark), and that they will sing the last note of a song that ends all time.

The prophecy about them goes:

"The time of the spheres is upon us. Aen Seidhe [the elves of the Continent] lost across the skies. Cast adrift in time. Ever searching for love, lost and left behind. 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."

And that, on the show "The Witcher", Ciri's also a character whose genes and blood is given a lot of attention and importance to. So, as a member of the audience, she'd be curious to know if these two different characters are going to crash into each other at some point, and those two parts of the Prophecy are going to connect.

The rest of the Ithlinne's Prophecy from the books, that's connected to Ciri, is:

"Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves... May Ye All Wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us. Your lands shall they trample and divide with rope. Your cities razed shall be, their dwellers expelled. The bat, owl and raven your homes shall infest, and the serpent will therein make its nest..."

She also said, in a Tudum Interview: "One of the things that we love about Sapkowski’s books is his attention to genes, to bloodlines, and to how families grow and develop."

And in Season 3, Jaskier keeps referring to Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer as "his family".

They may not be related by blood, but they are still "family" to him, in the truest sense (like, I think, the Seven established a family-like bond).

And Jaskier is the one that brought them all together. "The Lark’s most precious note shall be the key to all things", and Jaskier does feel like he's the key to all things, at times.

He's just randomly traveling the Continent, unlocking people's destinies left and right, connecting with them, struggling with the thought of settling down.

He's also drawn to people that are "ever searching for love", and that feel "lost and left behind".

Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri... Radovid, even.

And, of course, the elves, that he became "The Sandpiper" to protect.

What I'm also wondering is if the part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy, at the end of "Blood Origin", was added at the same time that they chose to introduce Seanchai and change the role that Jaskier was initially meant to play in the spinoff.

Because it would appear that Seanchai's true form would be that of an ancient elf.

So, "Blood Origin" introduces us to two incredibly powerful ancient elves with the ability to cross time and dimensions.

Avalach, that shares a connection to Ciri in the books (I won't spoil it for those that haven't read it), and

2. Seanchai.

So, what if Seanchai was the child of Éile and Fjall? The Lark’s seed, that shall carry forth (throughout history) the first note of a song that ends all times?

And this is sort of what the show's creator had to say about her character:

It just sort of fitted so well in. When I was thinking about this idea with Seanchaí story collection, it was that moment where all the story about music, and story and words being more powerful than any army, sort of all felt less than [compared] to [having] it sort of personified in this sort of creature that’s raison d'être is to collect stories because they are so powerful. It was great. And the name Seanchaí actually comes from... It was a position in Ireland where you were a storyteller, and you went between the halls of kings, and you went to chieftains and people, and they were the most powerful people in the land and kings were fucking terrified of them – and queens – because one bad story would destroy you as a king. And they were far more worried about that than any army. And then bringing that back to life in this world, it just all clicked. It was one of those lovely synchronous moments of story.

Because the child of Fjall and the Lark is supposed to carry forth (not sing, carry) the first note of the song...

...and one of her blood shall sing the last note of that song.

And when Jaskier asks Seanchai "Why did you save me from the Temerians?", she answers "I need you to sing a story back to life. We're related you an I."

She then explains that he's a bard and she's a storyteller, of a sort...

But that's just the thing. A storyteller might be able to carry the notes of a song - for centuries, perhaps - but she would need a bard to actually sing it when the time was right.

And yeah... The idea that she meant a bit more than just "storytellers and bards have a lot in common" when she said "we're related, you and I", would be intriguing...

The problem, however, is that should it be Jaskier (regardless of him being related to Seanchai or not...), it would sort of make that part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy extremely literal. Almost too literal, one might say.

Not to mention that the way the scene is filmed really seems to be meant to heavily imply that it is Jaskier.

Because, when Seanchai says "...and one of her blood shall sing the last", we are pulled out of the past to the present, where Jaskier is seen writing the last words of a story.

And, when he tries to get her to elaborate on who she's referring to, the answer Jaskier gets is: "Sing the 'Song of the Seven', Sandpiper".

Then, when Jaskier looks back at the last page of the story he's just written, the camera zooms in on "...and one of her blood shall sing the last.", while it starts raining, some dramatic ominous music starts playing, and Jaskier is suddenly back to standing on the battlefield.

So, it feels like she's giving him the answer to his question by telling him to sing.

Then, Seanchai goes on, saying "...so the oppressed may find hope and strenght in the tale of their ancestors; and be ready for the great change to come;" and you see an elf come to squeeze Jaskier's shoulder to let him know the battle is won (at least, this one), and invite him to follow them.

And, even if the only way that Seanchai and Jaskier were "related" would be through their love for either collecting and preserving stories, and/or sharing those stories with the world, she still says that she needs him to sing a story back to life.

So, if you were a powerful ancient elf that actually knew who was meant to sing the very last note of a specific story, wouldn't you want to let them know how the story actually began, too?

Jaskier: I'm just a bard.

Seanchai: In her mind, going:

A bard with a blood marked by beast and magic, that felt an instant connection and deep sense of kinship towards a Witcher that everyone hated, feared, and called a "Butcher"...

A bard that brought said Witcher to Calanthe's banquet - where he prevented Duny's demise, and claimed his future daughter, the Elder Blood Princess, as his own.

A bard that brought the Witcher to Yennefer of Vengenberg, the sorceress that would come to love that child as her own daughter, too, and help protect and raise her, too.

A bard that feels intimately drawn to everyone on the Continent - men, women, elves, dwarves, even polymorphous, apparently... - regardless of race or creed, and would step in and risk his life to protect those being persecuted on the basis of being seen as "the other"...

A bard that embodies the complexity, beauty, and diversity of everyone's stories on the Continent, and feels like - if the muses stopped talking to him and inspiring him to write and sing those songs - he'd have no idea who he was anymore, and would no longer be able to do the one thing he was put on this Continent to do?

A bard that inspires people to grow, get involved, and ultimately become the better versions of themselves...

A bard, whose ancestors' fight against Balor lead to the Conjunction of the Spheres, the arrival of the humans on the Continent, of the monsters, the creation of the Witchers, and the beginning of a story that he'll witness and sing the conclusion of.

But yes, just a bard.

But yeah, it's like the show is pointing us so strongly in Jaskier's direction and wanting us so much to think it's him that it's almost suspicious or "too easy" to assume it's him.

What also makes me hesitate, in some ways, is that people would expect someone that's been described as having "a blood like no other, marked by beast and magic", to be exhibiting superhuman powers of some sort, and have powerful magic of their own, I suppose.

While Jaskier is very much human. But Seanchai (and the show runners, apparently) sees great power in the ability to shape the world through storytelling, and she makes it sound like she truly respects Jaskier's "power", and the way he's been using his voice to help change people's perception of outcasts.

Even "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was all about changing the way people irrationally feared and reviled witchers, and treated them as freaks.

Yes, he threw Filivandrel and the elves under the bus with that one!

No one's denying that, and I've always headcanoned that one of the reasons why he became the Sandpiper is because he realized he truly messed up with "Toss A Coin", and was attempting to take responsibility for his mistakes and right some of his wrongs.

But "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was still about changing people's perception of witchers, so that Geralt would be seen as a noble, brave, larger-than-life heroic protector that was also a friend you could just enjoy a pint with, rather than some unrelatable mutant freak without any emotion that one should fear and keep their distance from in general, unless they had an even more dangerous monster needing killing.

He tried helping one outcast, but sadly made things worse for others.

And we also have to remember that we're talking about a very young Jaskier that had been brought up in the human world until then, and likely didn't fully grasp nor understand how much damage humanity had done to the elder races. We're talking about someone with a fairly limited worldview that genuinely thought elves were just "hiding in their golden palaces" while humanity suffered until, like, seconds ago.

Filivandrel might have started shaking those perceptions, but I doubt it would have been enough to completely make him unlearn all the lies and prejudices he'd been taught, and fully realize that what had happened to Filivandrel wasn't the exception when it came to elves, but the norm.

Now, Jaskier knows and understands better. Back then? He still had things to learn. I guess my point is that, despite all of his flaws and shortcomings as a young bard, Jaskier was still using his voice in ways meant to help someone connect with, and be accepted by, the world.

He's always been highly empathetic, and likely to spontaneously side with those that needed to have a voice after having been cast aside.

And, should Jaskier be, indeed, the descendant of the very first Witcher, it does add a rather unique element to the way he immediately trusted that he'd be safe traveling with Geralt, and never instinctively feared who and what he was, regardless of the reputation he'd acquired after Blaviken.

Something in Jaskier's DNA would apparently be telling him that Witchers make perfectly suitable life companions!

And Fjall was kicked out of his clan when they found out he was having an affair with Princess Merwyn!

So, getting into trouble because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry would be a family trait that would go back generations!

It can't be helped, really!

Éile was into Dog Clan people and Witchers.

Jaskier is into Wolf Clan people and Witchers.

Fjall was into Royals and Bards.

Jaskier is into Royals and Himself.

These three are obviously related!

"Song of the Seven" would be a part of Jaskier's own heritage, too. He'd be singing about the history of his own ancestors, and their very own "found family", rather than singing about a group of outcasts he has no intimate or personal connection to.

And, should Éile indeed be one of Jaskier's ancestors...

Well, she was called "The Lark"...

And Jaskier chose to call himself "The Sandpiper"...

It's actually what Seanchai replied when Jaskier asked "Are you sure you've got the right man for this?"

Something like "Of course I am. You're the Sandpiper. Smuggler of elves to safety."

Apparently, small sandpipers are also sometimes called "sand larks".

So...

If Jaskier was the one referred to in that part of that Prophecy, then the song would start with the Lark's seed... and end with a Sand Lark!

Then, there's Radovid...

Because, of course, out of Jaskier's entire repertoire, he would be drawn to that song the most!

A part of me can't help but think I'm just looking way too deep into this, and making connections that are probably extremely accidental, but still, I can't help but think it would be really cool if Jaskier did end up being the Continent's MVP, in a sense.

If the whole point of Blood Origin - beyond giving us some insight on how the first Witchers were created and why, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the humans arriving on the Continent, etc. - was to clearly establish bards/storytellers (namely Éile, Jaskier, Seanchai...) as being some of the most powerful beings of their world.

While some would probably find it anticlimactic that Ithlinne's Prophecy, in "Blood Origin", would simply be about a "humble human bard" that would have inherited Éile's gift for storytelling and singing - rather than some sort of primal power or something (due to their connection to the first Witcher) - I think it would be fitting.

Dijkstra & Philippa: We have control over Redania’s resources!

Radovid: I have a Sandpiper.

He's just like the Queen on the chessboard, fiercely protecting the King by messing up the other pieces' moves, hard to predict because he can take off in too many directions and in too many ways...

And everyone's also after him, trying to knock him down, because he just keeps fucking their game over!

Also, as it turns out, there were many more character posters this season! And Jaskier wasn't the only one without a "physical weapon" or object of some sort...

But my favorite's got to be Radovid. I mean Jaskier's standing there, taking everything in, hyper-alert and ready to do "something" about it.

And our poor sweetheart is just... standing there with his fur heavy blanket cloak, discreetly looking over his shoulder, looking half-curious about what's happening and half totally done with this shit, just about ready to pour himself yet another drink...

Story of his life!

#Jaskier #Radovid #Radskier #The Witcher #The Witcher: Blood Origin #My Posts #My Thoughts #My Stuff

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