#jaskier fan fic

[cheesynoodle22]

A mini comic for a favourite scene from Three steps from the sky by bunnynegativeeuphoria 🐎❄️❤️‍🔥

[thedemonofcat]

How to Write Fanfiction

1. Develop an idea for a fanfic based on a fandom you enjoy.

2. Choose your writing method: computer, tablet, phone, or pen and paper (for a more whimsical touch, consider sending drafts via carrier pigeon).

3. Begin writing your story.

4. Come up with a new idea.

5. Return to step three and start writing your new idea.

6. Continue alternating between steps three and four.

7. Repeat this process until you have accumulated over a hundred works-in-progress (WIPs).

8. Postpone finishing any of them until much later.

[itendswithakiss]

I need a really long Geraskier fic to read please

[ladynearthelake]

A snippet

I know I said it would only take a few days, but I'm a dummy like that.

Here's a snippet of an arranged marriage Radskier thing I'm working on...

See, the thing is Jaskier always knew this outcome was possible. When he was young, his father never stopped crowing about what an advantageous match he made for his ne’er-do-well son. Problem was, Jaskier tuned the earl out every time he started on about it. Sure, he knew the details. The Redanian spare would need a pretty partner to entertain the court when he came of age. The Earl of Lettenhove had jumped at the opportunity soon as the rumor got around that the prince was on the auction block. Jaskier would be off his hands, and his ties to the throne and his land solidified. Jaskier didn’t care. He had no intention of remaining in Lettenhove, much less following through on the betrothal. Soon as he left for Oxenfurt, Jaskier would have to be dragged back kicking and screaming. Shit of it was, there had been kicking and screaming, just not as Jaskier envisioned.

He should have seen it coming. After all, his father wasn’t going to ignore a contract unfulfilled. He remembered the letters those first few years following Geralt. They were filled with lots of stern language about duty and family and honor and blah blah blah. When they finally stopped, he thought he’d outrun his responsibilities.

Turns out, the Earl hadn’t given up. He was just biding his time.

As he followed Geralt that summer, a letter seemed to appear at every settlement they passed through. Jaskier ignored them all. The messengers were always twitchy. They would stare at Jaskier’s witcher as if waiting to be cut down. Jaskier sent each of them on their way with the unopened letter and a coin for their trouble. He though nothing of it when he parted from Geralt for the winter. He would do what he always did: mold the minds of the best and brightest at the university and see just how many flat surfaces he could bespoil with his partners.

He had barely even settled in when several very large men in Lettenhove livery kicked down his door and suggested very violently that he should leave with them. Jaskier refused, and that was when his father appeared. As he presses his head against the cool stone of the room they’ve locked him in, Jaskier hears his father’s words echoing in his pounding head.

“Now more than ever, the Redanian crown wants to fortify their position. The spymaster worries we can be bought by Nilfgaard and demands that the marriage contract be fulfilled. You can accompany me to Tretogor with the dignity befitting your station, or you can continue to act like a child.”

Jaskier has never been accused of making thing easy for himself. He doesn’t remember much of the ride from Oxenfurt to Tretogor.

He presses tighter to the stone. The cold makes him think of Geralt, safe and so far away until spring.

It’s almost like his prick of a father had been planning this little abduction for years. He’s being ever so smug about it too. When Jaskier awoke in a strange bed in a locked room, he found a note in neat, familiar, infuriating script.

Duty comes for us all. Be ready by sundown.

~TBC

Think there were more folks on that original post, but here's the people I remember interacting with it lol

@endiness @misterkarchie @nicestmeangirl @underthebluerain @elder-flower @highwarlockofphilly

[alaskanbby]

Long time no fic! I was gripped by a scene and couldn't let it live in my brain and so a fic was written around it. This is a Trans!Jaskier fic, and a coming out fic. So mind the tags if you don't like certain things, it has a very happy ending I promise, but also read the author's note! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this labor of love :)

Relationship(s): Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Chapters: 2/2

Summary:

“And?” Jaskier’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, “What the hell do you mean ‘and?’” “Do you think me so shallow as to have that change how I would feel about you?” “People fall out of love over less,” He muttered. “Then they aren’t really in love.”

[keyboardserpent]

Day 29473992 of trying to work up the motivation to write a modern AU geraskier fanfic based on the song Life is a Highway.

[snailqueen42]

When you've been reading too much witcher fan fiction and you start rethinking your life choices.

[potatocollections]

I wrote my first ever fan fiction yesterday while sitting on a plane waiting for it to take off.

[restless-witch]

varieties of exile - geraskier in drabbles - pt 9 AND 10

Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated T for swearing, character injury, and minor suicide ideation / Chapter complete

Hey hey friends, I originally posted “part 9″ which is the first 4 paragraphs here but I continued the draft, posted that on AO3, and THEN continued that to a new major plot point so- HELLO, the first few paragraphs are not new if you follow my blog or follow me on AO3 but there’s about 2,000 more words added below the cut and I hope you read and enjoy it :)

A few details may change when I finally post this on AO3, but it’s been a while since I’ve felt such a rush to write and I thought I’d share it with you all as soon as I could <3

Jaskier's mother called him a late bloomer- which was disheartening to hear when he still had his milk teeth and made the memories of her harder to cling to in a dormitory. When he was older, in Oxenfurt, the words became a strange little comfort: a reminder to be patient with himself while he stumbled over star names and trochees and spondees and the four human humors.

He thought of her, though, and felt close to her as he picked his way down the mountain: talking his way through the foggy hurt. He let himself imagine seeing her when he picked his head up; her endlessly blue eyes, her cap which hid the soft points of her ears, her curls he cried into. 

It was easier to imagine her on the path beside him, in the empty Geralt-shaped space, larger than life. Oversized so his adult hand still felt small in her hand. It'd been a long time since she'd come to him so clearly, incomplete as memories are; he imagined her humming and her trilling Elder accent rolling through the kindly words she smoothed into his back and pressed into his palm.

 She strode alongside him, humming and spinning her wool as she often did in the manor. She spilled over into the path, her rough spun skirts gliding over the chestnut burrs that littered the ground; he wished she were real so she might help carry his pack down the summit. Instead he resolutely stumbled forward, blinking back his tears, and asked her if he'd always been so lonesome as to imagine friendships and affection where there wasn't any, if she'd found him just as hard to love as everyone else did.

She hummed for a long time, looping through melodies, and he desperately walked through the night just to hear her and see the flick of her spindle from the corner of his eye. As dawn broke over the valley below them, she started humming and he found it in him to warble the words with her.

Rain may fall and wind may blow but there'll still be

Many miles to go-

Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,

And the stream that runs from hill to plain-

Finally, the tears broke and she dropped her wool and spindle and he despairingly imagined the warmth of her arms she gathered him into. Into the dry air, he wept and wondered how he'd gotten it so wrong again. His sisters. Valdo Marx's club. The Countess. The djinn. The betrothal feast. The thousands of nights he'd written fondness into Geralt's calm. Each one crumbled into ashes as he tried to search for something to hold on to- some solid proof there'd been affection there. He wondered why he kept imagining love where there wasn't any- felt like an idiot child for having no company but the fractured memories of his mother he could recall.

"You've always been a late bloomer, my saovine dandelion," her voice curled around him, "you just need a little time."

He stumbled and fell to the ground, he laid there sprawled out for a time, his mother's image carefully tucking her skirts as she sat beside him. She didn't pull out her spinning again. The two looked to the brightening skies and Jaskier shuddered through his tears. He'd made good progress through the night and could see the copse ahead where Roach waited.

"Have I always been such a good liar?" he asked her, she stared off into the distance, "come off it, was any of it real? Was any of it real?"

She didn't say anything and Jaskier roughly picked himself up.

"You've always been a late bloomer," she repeated, turning her kind gaze to him. She looked at him so earnestly and Jaskier couldn't trust her face- knowing she was merely a child's memory of her. What truth could he glean from her? If she'd doubted him, he doubted he would remember. He'd apparently forgotten Geralt's edge of irritation.

Still, he softened, "Thank you mama," she preened and made to stand again, "but I'm afraid I've got to do this alone now."

A bink and she was gone from his vision.

He walked along the path again, running through breathing warm ups to try and quell the sob that hid in his throat, until he reached Roach and the other mounts. She perked up as he approached and he couldn't help but hide his face in her neck as he started crying again.

At least he knew he wasn't imagining her kindness for she lipped and drooled on his hair. She kept nuzzling him insistently as he carefully unpacked the saddlebags they'd left beneath the tree. He opened his pack and removed the spare potions and rations he'd brought along and replaced them with the little trinkets and clothes he'd left with Roach. He'd been traveling light before he met up with Geralt, which he supposed was a blessing, as he had very few things to add to his pack.

He closed up the saddle bags and Roach butted her head against his shoulder.

He stood beside her a long time, gently petting the secret spot on her chest that only he and Geralt could touch, and she nuzzled him sweetly.

He opened the saddlebags and desperately searched them again- hoping in the back of his mind he'd find some last contested item he'd have to bicker with Geralt for. A ring they'd been paid with. A borrowed book. Even a jar of plum butter would do. 

But he'd taken all of his belongings and neatly left Geralt's behind. Nothing shared anymore.

Maybe Jaskier should've realized that sooner. 

Their purse looked at him accusingly. The little purse they'd carefully saved their extra coins into. The purse that rarely opened unless they visited a luther or smith until they parted for the winter. Usually, they split the purse evenly but now Jaskier couldn't help but feel that was greedy.

Money wouldn't give Geralt back his twenty years of Jaskier's poking and prodding and prattling and wailing but- 

He pulled out a few coppers and left the crowns untouched. He closed the purse and pressed it back deep into Geralt's spare boots.

"It seems this is where we part, love," he laid his head on hers and wept again, "oh you gorgeous girl, please don't make this harder. I shall miss you so dearly. I'll write a hundred songs for you."

He lingered a long time, though he wasn't even sure he could handle Geralt ignoring him ever again (or worse still, looking at him ever again). He'd always been that way, he thought, wriggling himself in where he wasn't wanted. 

Money wouldn't give Geralt back his twenty years ruined by Jaskier shoveling shit- he'd just hope a clean break would be enough for him.

.

He walked longer- trying to think of nothing and everything and trying to divine the places Geralt would go to next and where Jaskier could hide himself away.

Oxenfurt was surely Jaskier's?

He'd built his name there and the Rosemary and Thyme awaited his return.

This was the closest Jaskier had ever come to a divorce of his own and, though he was sure that pre-marriage property was returned to the original holder, he wasn't sure if Geralt's peppered visits to the city were enough for him to stake a claim as well.

Afterall, he'd been taking contracts in Oxenfurt longer than Jaskier had even been a thought in his mother's mind.

It was late enough in the year for Geralt to reasonably amble through Kaedwan and sweep through Ban Gleán or Ban Ard before wintering if he wished to completely avoid Jaskier.

Just about every other year, it seemed Geralt had some business which called him to Oxenfurt this time of year and Jaskier made the trip with him before wintering there himself. It was a sweet gesture, that Geralt crafted some excuse to escort Jaskier to the stronghold if they'd been held up on the path too long or ventured too far south, well-

Jaskier thought it was a kind gesture. But now he felt he couldn't be so sure it wasn't the rhythms of the Path and climate that swung Geralt up from Verden to Oxenfurt to Kaer Morhen and swept Jaskier along with him. Wasn't sure Geralt wasn't protecting himself from guilt if Jaskier couldn't survive the journey himself.

He could, of course, Jaskier knew that. He always managed on his own. But perhaps Geralt didn't know that. Couldn't be certain of Jaskier-

Perhaps it was best Jaskier took the route through Tretogor. 

Seeing the Pontar would be an unkindness now.

He hiked his pack higher on his shoulder, for heartache always made the burdens of life harder to carry, and plotted the remainder of his course through Redania. It was a shame to miss the flowering lemons along the Pontar, but it'd been a fair few years since they'd traipsed through the Redainian prairie and he hoped he could catch a wagon on the tailend of the summer caravan. He could let his mind wander on the journey- already he could feel the haze of wondering and hurt and shame rolling over his mind- for in Redania all roads went to Tetrogor and Oxenfurt.

In his mind, he caught himself calling it "their divorce" which was funny, wasn't it? Every time he'd stayed long enough to be abjured and rejected and kicked out before he'd always been sort of... washed away. He'd always been careful to not tie himself to others so tightly- tried to leave each of them a way out. After he'd remade his life in Oxenfurt, his breaks with other people had always been softened that way. Never so long as their countless nights under the stars. Never so deep as nursing each other from death.

It didn't help that they were married.

It was a technicality of course, and a vague one at that, but one Jaskier hadn't bothered to rectify or bring up to Geralt in the three years it had been true. Jaskier had worked out an arrangement with the Contemporary History Department regarding his finances back in Lettenhove and, when he'd last updated his will, a common law marriage with Geralt had been written in by a clerk and stamped into existence by Dijkstra's signet ring. 

Jaskier knew enough of the law to understand it was the best assurance that Geralt would be the primary inheritor of his estate should his sister attempt to contest his will. He'd scarcely made much of it when it happened besides barking out a laugh when he saw the parchment and trying to think of the funniest way to break it to Geralt and been distracted by Pricilla's latest villanelle and somehow the paper marriage slipped from his mind entirely in the tumbling of their story together.

He wouldn't divorce Geralt, of course.

He'd built so much of his life around Geralt that, even though it was now clear Geralt couldn't stand him any longer, he owed him this still. The Rosemary and Thyme, his bank account in Novigrad, the pension from Oxenfurt; none of them were possible without Geralt and the land in Lettenhove would be ceded back to the Pankratz fold without Jaskier's intervention. They did not deserve his mother's rolling hills or the money that came in with the sheep.

He wondered if Geralt and Roach would catch up with him soon- he'd been walking in starts and stops and heaves and sobs since he stumbled off the mountain top but Roach was a steady mount and Geralt rarely tarried without Jaskier distracting him. He'd made good time. The hours too stretched in starts and stops as his mind looped between plotting a course back home and confronting everything he'd lost on the damned mountain.

.

He was deep in the daze when a straggling Reaver shoved him off the mountain which was about as much as Jaskier could expect from the day.

Later he's able to recount that it's not quite off the mountain but off the sloping path down into the mountain's couloir- dry this time of year but a far fall filled with broken talus and little to break his fall. 

It was a lucky fall, the healer tells him later-  just shallow enough to not destroy his spine. 

It was a lucky fall, Priscilla tells him later- deep enough the reaver left him for dead.

Looking up at the sky from the ravine, feeling his patella rushing with blood, he wishes the damn mountain had just killed him already. 

.

a stubborn excruciating clawing journey gets him down the mountain 

the coppers were enough for a hedgewitch in the kaedwani backwoods and then a real temple trained healer in gelibol- Izolda.

the trickling magic and the misery and his fucking wretched animal misery ignites his own chaos from hers- his conduit moment comes as a song between gritted teeth that knits his bones and sinews back together and bursts her fields into an early bumper crop.

It's imperfect. Scorched with a flare of chaos Izolda refuses to try and fix unless he waits out the winter with her and she can safely rebreak the bone.

It's enough. After the harvest, it's enough. They divide the profits of the bumper and it's enough for him to purchase an even tempered sorrel so he's not constantly aggravating his leg and it's enough for Izolda to reluctantly let him leave Gelibol for Oxenfurt with a promise to visit Ellander in the spring.

The road was different on a horse- he'd traveled on a borrowed horse from time to time and planned jaunts across counties in wagons with his friends but he'd never experienced adulthood with a horse to call his own. He'd lost time in Gelibol recovering but Pegasus sedately caught up the lost miles and he found a new sort of joy on the road. He earned a few crowns singing alongside merchants returning home for the winter and could take more detours than before now that he covered more miles in a day. 

He wondered if it would have been different, between him and Geralt, if he'd had Pegasus with him the whole time. Or not Pegasus exactly, as he was just out of yearling, but his own mount in general- if a grander show of independence and giving Geralt more space would have extended their time together. If it would have taken longer for Jaskier to wear out his welcome.

Probably not. Besides it nearly felt like betraying Roach to already love Pegasus so much- but the gelding was gentle as Jaskier relearned riding sidesaddle and patiently pulled himself to a block or barrel for Jaskier to dismount without completely jarring his leg. 

He made it to Tetrogor in good time and was able to write Priscilla about procuring a healer for him in Oxenfurt. It'd been nearly a month since the mountain and weeks since his conduit moment and though his leg ached and his eyes wept when he looked too long at Pegasus's silver mane- the grief had eased. 

It always did. 

Then came the weekend of two kidnappings.

.

A/N- Been feeling a little blue lately but I’m feeling the itch to write again! I have so much planned and already written for Varieties of Exile and I love it so much <3 Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff- can you believe my draft has tripled in size since August???? <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c

Thanks for reading, friends!

Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: actual fic varieties of exile

Polished chapters on ao3 here: Varieties of Exile

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

Drop the they them jaskier fic!!

not sure what exactly you mean? like link it? bc it was just a post on my dash and I didn't reblog it or notice who wrote it

[cheesynoodle22]

Part 3/3 of a mini comic, part 1 here, part 2 here; from a favourite scene in Three steps from the sky by bunnynegativeeuphoria

[thedemonofcat]

One of my all-time favorite movies is "The Princess Bride." Currently, I'm toying with the idea of creating a Geraskier-inspired story, but I'm not quite in the mood for it. Instead, I've been thinking about casting characters from "The Witcher" as the characters from "The Princess Bride." Here's what I've come up with so far:

- Grandfather: Vesemir

- Grandson (or granddaughter, in my version): Ciri

- Princess Buttercup: Jaskier

- Westley: Geralt

- Prince Humperdinck: Radovid

- Vizzini: Dijkstra

- Fezzik: Eskel or Lambert (either one could work)

- Inigo Montoya: Renfri

- Count Rugen: Stregobor

I'm leaving out some of the minor characters since I can't think of good matches for them at the moment.

[itendswithakiss]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Additional Tags: Angst, maybe? - Freeform, I'm Bad At Tagging, My First Work in This Fandom, Song fic, title from a bear's den song, whole story from that song really, Not Beta Read Summary:

“What does this mean, Geralt?” Jaskier whispered in the small room they shared as the first light of the sun peaked through the window.

“Nothing,” the Witcher responded as he put his armor on and walked out the door. They both knew he was lying.

Soooooo I wrote a thing. It’s my first ever fic for this fandom and I’m a little nervous. Every person I’ve interacted with has been very kind, but I’m still worried it’ll be garbage and get dragged for it lol

Have a read if you want :)

[ladynearthelake]

Big ups to @poemsingreenink who suggested a Ravinia meet cute while I was ranting at her about these two.

For the three people out there who give a shit about this pairing. Love you, Radskier Nation.

[alaskanbby]

Hello and welcome to chapter 13 of my 16 part fic that's going to have taken I think about 3 years to finish lol, but never say I gave up! I hope everyone who is reading this fic enjoys the update, and to anyone new please please please mind the tags. This fic discusses heavy topics. But anyways New Chapter Up!!!

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Summary:

Now it is becoming spring at the Keep, Jaskier is starting to improve but is also anxious about the impending journey down the mountain.

[youknowwhoiam3490-blog]

Who the hell put this PAIN on my dash? I didn't ask the algorithm for wistful heartache and pining today!

And why did this just cut off there? Well written blurbs are, at their core, an act of violence. If you wanna hurt me do it by way of a 70k hurt/comfort Soulmate AU slowburn, don't be a jerk.

"Wait... are you Geralt's soulmate?"

The look on Ciri's face tells too much. Of course Geralt hasn't told Ciri, hasn't told any of them.

“Yes, I am” Jaskier offers her his biggest sincere smile though he thinks he might be grimacing.

Ciri in her charming petulant way says "Wow" and then proceeds to turn around towards the stairs. Jaskier tries not to feel insulted. He is aware of who he is. The contrast between him and Yennefer (Geralt's true love) is painfully immense. Sometimes he wonders if destiny was wrong about him or maybe she wanted to play with him, a mere pawn on Geralt's destiny. The bridge that'd bring Geralt and Yennefer together. But, if that's the truth, if Geralt wasn't meant for him why did he fall in love?

Alone on his cold room he decides he's going to tried, one last time, to be what Geralt wants, needs. So he throws away his colorful clothes and puts on a pair of black pants and a plain black blouse (borrowed from Cöen). He tries to be as useful as possible, quiet, focused, regal, smart and a good company for anyone that wants to talk to the strange bard, he's a good performer after all, the best there is. At least Vesemir doesn't scold at him that much anymore and Lambert is more willing to tolerate his presence. He still sings, in a cellar on top of the main tower, the echo is divine. He writes and sings about heartbreak, hoping, waiting, wanting, and letting go.

Geralt notices of course, he can see the way he holds himself. Like he's hurting. Maybe he is. Ciri asked him a few weeks ago why he didn't tell anyone about Jaskier being his soulmate.

She also tells him about the disappointment in the bard's face at finding himself stranded in Geralt's destiny.