#unsent letters to geralt

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

I always believed I would spend the rest of my days with you all, or like we always did, crossing path, sharing adventures, or a meal somewhere, anywhere... We always had something to share.

I would have followed you as long as my legs would have carried me. I would have sung to you as long as my voice would have hold. And then I hoped you would have visited me when I would have been too old... Because you were eternal to mere mortals like me and this was the only good way to end this story. You alive. Me dead.

But today, I am lost. That future won't exist and I don't know what to do. You left me on that bank and disappeared into the mist, when all I wished was lying with them. I understand your feelings, princess, but, if they are not alive, I don't belong with the living either... You know it.

Now, my body seems too heavy to move even if I feel empty, and my heart is too broken to feel anything but pain. I don't know how to sing, because my voice is trapped somewhere.

There is nowhere I feel home anymore. I am just a lost soul on this sphere. So please, come back... or welcome me on the other side. Don't leave me here... alone. I beg of you. This is not fair I have to stay here, in a space full of your absence.

You denied me the right to have a more peaceful end and I saw in your eyes that you will never come back. Maybe we could have mourn together. We didn't have to be alone to face this ordeal, didn't we ?

But maybe you knew that my own pain would be too much to bear and you couldn't see me never heal. Maybe you were right. Maybe that's better that way. But maybe it means that everyone understood, and I was in denial all my life. Maybe my own kind knew from my first breath in this world how unworthy of love I was, and I should have bent before that heart would know the feeling. Maybe that's why in the end, I have to face this alone...

I am sorry, princess, for my bitter words but the wound is too fresh and the fall is hard, because I thought for a short time that I was enough and worth to be part of your family, when clearly it was just a construct of my mind. Also you knew what to say, but this is not fair you used that against me to keep me alive... on this side. Because I will give myself heart and soul to the task you gave me, knowing it will never bring me real peace.

But my letter isn't for that.

Yes, I am bitter that you did that to me, but deep inside I can't blame you and never will. You had too much to endure. This is only pain speaking and I am sorry. I have to find a way to accept things as they are. I need just time. Probably.

This letter is there to enlighten what I should have said before. What I should have say many times. I have to make things right before my own end.

The poet in me wants to believe that you knew how much I love you all. But for the first time in my life I regret I never said those three little words out loud. You are gone and it is too late now. There is no second chances with those kind of things.

I will continue to tell the story of my beloved family to the world as you asked me to, if I can find my voice back, but the world doesn't deserve the words I would say to you only. I will continue to hide them to their eyes and ears, like the most extraordinary things I keep inside.

But for you, I write these words, for the first and the last time. This is a beacon in the dark and the most important thing anyone has to know. And you have to know.

I LOVE YOU.

Your crazy uncle Jaskier.

(Letter found in a empty wine bottle in a lake in Rivia)

[wren-of-the-woods]

I have to ask about Letters to Maglor 👀 I'm also super curious about the Renfri fic, so you can pick!

Thank you for asking!!

Letters to Maglor is somthing I started... three years ago, I think? I forgot about it for a long time, then rediscovered it recently and found out that it was better than I remembered. It consists of a series of (probably unsent) letters written by Elrond to Maglor during the Second and Third ages. It features a lot of Elrond angst and feels, because I love him. A snippet:

You may be wondering why I participate in this charade of a letter. It is foolish, you might say, to write a letter to someone who you know cannot write back. I know it well, and in truth I do not know why I do it. I suppose it must be because I miss you, now more than ever. Elros has died. There, I said it. That is what I have been skirting around for this whole overly-long waste of paper. My brother is dead, and he is never coming back. He chose mortality. He chose to be counted as human. He left, to an island in the middle of the Sundering Seas, and I never saw him again. He married a woman I have never met. He had three children whom I do not know. He ruled a kingdom I have never seen.  And now he is dead. Just like the people of Sirion and the people who fought under you and the people who fought under Gil-Galad. Just like Maedhros.

Renfri fic is my AU where Renfri survives (unbeknowns to Geralt) and decides to take her revenge on Geralt by killing his new companion -- only for Jaskier to get lucky and avoid death every time, and for Renfri to start growing fond of him against her will. It's about 10k right now and at this rate it'll probably end up around 20k. I shared a poem from it here!

(From this ask game)

[pherryt]

A Strange Garden

Rating: T Wordcount: 6021 Ships: Lambert/Aiden, Background Geralt/Jaskier Fills:

Save A Witcher Bingo - Square B3: Healing ( @save-a-witcher-bingo )

Reverse Prompt Challenge 15 ( @reverseprompts )

Witcher Flash Fic #42 ( @octinary )

Summary

Lambert always met up with Aiden in the spring, but when he finally finds the Cat this year, he's been badly hurt and gone completely non verbal. In the process of helping Aiden heal, feeling guilty that he hadn't been there sooner, Lambert realizes things might be worse than he thought - Aiden's wits seem to have fled completely.

[fingons-rad-harp]

“I have a bit of a new one for you wonderful people today,” says Jaskier, plucking out a new melody. “I’ve only performed it a handful of times so far, so I hope you’ll all love it as much as I do.”

Ciri bounces in excitement next to him, and Geralt can’t help the small smile that crosses his face as he looks down at her. 

Jaskier’s voice starts high and angelic, long notes drawn out in a velvet caress. 

“You look like I need a drink,” he winked As he slipped from my grasp to the bar “And you are?”

He moves on stage gracefully, his long red coat swirling around him dramatically. He’s wearing a stupid hat with a stupid fucking feather and Geralt wants to kiss him until he forgets his fucking name. 

He digs his fingers into his thigh. Jaskier would be disgusted if he knew how Geralt thought of him, and shame curls around his spine at the thought of Jaskier looking at him in fury and anger.

“I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say.”

Jaskier’s voice dips into a growl, and Geralt feels his heart rate speed up.

“You don’t know it yet, but I’m the cupid of things That you just didn’t get, that you struggled to sing.”

For a moment, Geralt forgets about the rift between them, he forgets about the mountain and loses himself in the smooth glide of Jaskier’s voice. This song is much darker than his typical style, angrier, filled with insecurity. 

“Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the back When you think about him, my wings start to flap.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Fuck. 

This song is about him, how he tossed the bard aside like he meant nothing even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I promise you I’ll be better I promise you I’ll try But like rubbing wine stains into rugs, it’s my curse To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse.”

Is there any way Geralt can fix this? Any way to remedy the hurt he has caused? Or would trying to talk to him just make things worse?

Jaskier’s voice grows loud, ringing throughout the tavern. The acoustics aren’t great, but it doesn’t matter in the face of raw talent and decades of practice. 

“I’m the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shunned All those letters unsent and that garden ungrown I’m the captain of courage that you’ve eternally lacked I’m the wishing to all of the gods he’ll come back!”

That’s… good, Geralt thinks. Jaskier wants him to come back, Geralt wants to come back… perhaps this is salvageable after all. 

Because farewell wanderlust, you’ve been, oh, so kind You brought me to this party, but you left me here behind So long to the person you begged me to be He’s down, he’s dead

“You need to talk to him,” Ciri says with resolve. 

Geralt takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face. “I know.”

Read more on AO3

[lemondropsssss]

The first week back in Oxenfurt is mainly paperwork. Contract agreements with the University, submitting course-plans for review, submitting and re-submitting lesson plans, and rather unfortunately, a letter home. Claiming the title of Viscount at the gates has repercussions and likely word has already been sent to Lettenhove of his arrival. So he sends the least offensive missive he can to his father and hopes he doesn’t wake up one day to the wrong end of a sword and his father’s intense glare.

The letter he receives back isn’t what he’s expecting. 

Julian, 

I am glad to hear you’re well. I admit to worrying on occasion that you’d died along the road somewhere and I would never know. Mother and Father died of the sweating sickness five years ago now. She asked for you at the end, but we couldn’t find you to bring you home. I snuck in a bard to sing your songs, so she could hear of your adventures. She liked the one about the selkie the best.

Adina and Jessa are grown, and have both married. Their husbands are good men, I made sure of it. Adina is expecting her second child. They were both so young when you left, and Father didn’t allow us to speak of you. But when the twins cried out at night I would sneak into their nursery and tell them your stories so they’d know some part of you. 

The Viscountcy is yours to claim, though I predict some challenges in governing from Oxenfurt. I have been overseeing Lettenhove since Father’s passing, and admit that I enjoy the work. It’s nice to feel needed. And to give our people a proper liege lord, one who won’t just ignore their claims as Father did while increasing taxes to supplement his and Mother’s lifestyle. Our people are healing, and they need their lord at home with them. 

I have an arrangement that I suspect will suit both our needs. Claim the title of Viscount, and give your written word that I am your proxy here in Lettenhove. You may continue to teach, while I run the estate. You will have use of the Oxenfurt townhouse, and will receive a monthly stipend. Please consider this offer. I care deeply for our home and the people of Lettenhove, as I know you do. Please see that this is best for everyone.

I love you, Julek. 

Your sister, 

Marta

Jaskier reads the letter five times in total. His father is dead. And that’s- well he can’t say he exactly mourns for him. But his mother asked for him, and that knowledge breaks his heart. Where was he five years ago? Could he have seen her again? Held her hand as the light left her eyes? And the twins. Closing his eyes he can see them as toddlers. They were barely walking when he left, and now they’re married with children of their own. He remembers holding them both in his arms, fourteen-years-old, and feeling such love. The way they’d looked asleep in their cribs when he said goodbye. The way their baby soft hair had felt under his fingers. He can almost hear their laughter, and tears slip past his closed eyes. 

Marta. His dear Marta. Who he’d sneak sweets to under the dinner table. Who never hurt any creature, no matter how small or scaly or slimy. Marta with her big brown eyes and soft smile. Who would climb into his bed at night when she was afraid and he’d tell her stories until the monsters went away and she fell asleep in his arms. And oh, knowing that she’d done the same for the twins breaks his heart all over again. 

Jaskier sinks to the floor slowly, barely aware of his movements, letter clutched to his chest. And he cries. 

He cries for his mother, and the last breath of air she took. He cries for his little sisters, who had only stories to know him by. He cries for the birthdays he missed, and the skinned knees he couldn’t kiss better, and the way they must have looked on their wedding days. He cries for the nieces or nephews he doesn’t know, and for the one on the way. He cries for his father, and the things he never got to say to him. He cries for Marta, and the loneliness she must feel in that big old castle by herself. He cries for leaving her alone to watch their parents die. He cries for every moment he missed of his sisters' lives. Every moment he couldn’t protect them. Every moment he wasn’t there. 

And this isn’t like losing Geralt, but the pain hits him in the same spot. It drives like glass into his skin, into his center, until all he is is shattered. He is pieces of lives missed and letters unsent and things undone. 

He cries for the family he abandoned, and the man who abandoned him. 

.

The townhouse hasn’t seen much use since he was younger and his parents would take them to the city for summers. Jaskier doesn’t mind. The first thing he does is send most of the paintings and sculptures to Marta; they’re too ostentatious for him, and she can do what she likes with the remnants of their parent’s luxe style choices. He has a crew from the Giving Door come to the house and collect any furniture they want to go to their second-hand shop. Good riddance to it all.

He furnishes the house in more earthy and jewel tones. Plush sofas, soft beds, and the biggest tub he can reasonably fit in the bathroom. Jaskier makes the house everything it wasn’t before; soft, warm, inviting, happy. 

Jaskier hires a housekeeper named Beatrice who calls him hun and won’t answer to anything other than Auntie or Bea. Bea moves into the servant’s level with a very old, very small white dog Arthur who takes up residence on a pillow in the front window and hardly moves. He is absolutely smitten with them both.

When he comes back late from the University, Bea has a warm dinner waiting for him. If she’s gone to bed, she leaves out tea and a covered plate of meat cheese and bread for him. It’s being taken care of in a way Jaskier isn’t entirely used to, but not opposed to. 

In fact, he finds he quite likes the calm of routine. His students are eager to learn, and after the first two months hardly ask him about the White Wolf anymore. Jaskier’s grateful. It isn’t easy to explain to a room full of young people who admire you that the man you immortalized in song wished you gone for two decades before you noticed. Not that it’s easy to explain to anyone, really. 

And that’s how it goes for eighteen months. Jaskier teaches, he comes home, he sleeps, and he does it again. It’s nice to reconnect with his University peers, and Oxenfurt is a revolving door of old faces. Some though, are more well received than others. 

Jaskier is teaching when it happens. It’s his high poetry class, only five students. A knock at the door, and the pinched face of a University messenger pokes around the door.

“Professor Julian?” All the class is looking between them. “There was someone at the gate for you.” His stomach drops. “He wouldn’t wait, insisted I bring them to you.” Jaskier’s mouth is suddenly very dry. It takes two attempts to get his mouth moving. 

“Right, yes, thank you. Uh,” He looks back at his expectant class, “Right, you all... do something with a poem, class dismissed.” 

Jaskier knows exactly what’s waiting for him. Only one person would be so insistent to see him they’d terrify a messenger so.

Said messenger is very relieved when Jaskier appears on the other side of the door. He offers him a quick bow and bolts back down the corridor, leaving Jaskier alone with his guests.

.

@caspertheassholeghost @innocentcinnamonpun @queenofmymanyfandoms 

y’all asked to be tagged in part 2 so here ya go 

part 1 can be found here and here

[constantfluxx]

FAREWELL WANDERLUST BY THE AMAZING DEVIL FOR THE TUNE CRUISE * SCREAMS *

HI I AM THE ONE WHO REQUESTED FAREWELL WANDERLUST AND FORGOT TO SPECIFY WHICH SHIP. OF COURSE. GERASKIER OR JASKIER POV WHATEVER REALLY, OK? THANKS. ILU.

🎶The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: The SS 200🎶

Port of Call: Geraskier! 🐺👨‍🎤Itinerary: Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing DevilCaptain: @kiomaya 🧜‍♀️

Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to be

He took in a deep, steadying breath. His fingers trembled around the neck of his lute. Eyes closed, he mentally coached himself, willing his nerves to settle at least long enough for his voice to sing true. It’s just another performance. How many times have you done this before? It’s no big deal.

Except he knew he was lying to himself.

This was hardly “just another performance.” Far from it. It took him forever to finally write a song sharing Geralt’s “defeat” of the dragon with the world. Even longer to perform it. And, when he finally did, it was… not his best work. One could hardly expect him to sing such a tale with such passion and intrigue when its epilogue was laced with a pain he couldn’t bring himself to bare. It was technically perfect, as his work of late usually was, but the emotion was missing. He was missing.

This song… This performance… This is where it had run off to. Where it’d been hiding ever since his return from that mountainside. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to finally recognize it as the problem - or perhaps he’d known all along, but refused to acknowledge it because it would reopen too many wounds, resurface too much hurt. Finally, the lacerations across his heart had begun to scar just enough for him to look, to examine, to embrace.

All that had happened… It was an indisputable part of him now, no matter how much pain it caused him, and would continue to cause him. He couldn’t move forward while leaving a part of him in the past - it was all or nothing, and he understood that now.

He doubted the unsuspecting townsfolk filling their bellies at the local tavern particularly cared to hear about his heartbreak. Songs of joy and adventure and triumph tended to draw far more coin than songs of misery and suffering and defeat. But this wasn’t for coin, not primarily anyhow. For this one song, this one performance, it wasn’t about the job.

It was bout reclaiming himself. About owning his life. About declaring his agony so irrefutably that he would have no choice but to recognize it as his own and finally, finally, start to address it head-on.

And wasn’t that a kind of personal victory, in its own, awful way?

He opened his eyes. He gazed out upon his feasting audience, upon their grumbling banter and stomping feet and clanking flagons. And he saw hair of white, and swords of silver, and eyes of yellow.

Delicate, flitting fingertips plucked away the beginning notes, deceptively light and whimsical. His voice followed in sweet accompaniment, painting the first syllable in a long, arcing embrace before twirling into its prancing opening measure.

“You look like I need a drink he winked as he slipped from my grasp to the barAnd you are?”

As he rounded out the opening lyrics, the catchy, playful tune drew those listening ears into a light nodding alongside his rhythm. Just as he’d once been distracted by Geralt’s splendor, so too were they taken by his light sing-song, and even as something more sinister began to sneak between his words they sooner suspected the start of some grand tale than the foreboding of tragedy.

Sooner just evidence of the Witcher’s social neglect than a pattern of distancing dissent.

“Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the backWhen you think about him, my wings start to flapWhen you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floorAnd when you lie there awake every night love, I soar”

The notes were turning darker. The words weren’t turning towards a new tomorrow. Rather than circle back, they basked in their darkness, reveled in the furrowed brows and wary glances. His pace built, the ebb and flow of his song’s tide swirling into a tumultuous churning from shore to shore. Too late to swim to safety, the listening hearts searched for the sun - surely it was just around the corner, just after the next typhoon?

Surely, he’d come to his senses and warm up to the company?

“I’m the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shownAll those letters unsent and that garden ungrownI’m the captain of courage you’ve eternally lackedI’m the Jesus of wishing to Christ he’ll come back”

The wave crashed down upon them. Hope of survival glimmered in its wake, breaking free of the surface for a vital breath of precious air. A single ray of sunlight touched their faces… but it proved only to be the eye of a surmounting storm, one which raged more furiously than anything before it. It dragged them back down into his suffering, and like troublesome dogs their faces were forced to behold his wretched distress. But rather than recoil away from the filth, they stared, held in place by the voice that wrapped around their necks like nooses. They witnessed the unfolding of his wounded heart, the casting aside of the love that had poisoned it, and the thrashing of his despair in this pit he’d been left in.

How could someone so beautiful be capable of something so cruel?

“Come devil come, she sang, call out my nameLet’s take this outside cos we’re one and the sameOur god has abandoned us, left us, insteadTake up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead”

The notes of his lute had slowed once more, heavy and trudging. Where once had been whimsy now there rang spite: a lesson learned, and with it the reckless abandon of love’s unburdened prisoner. Only here, at the very depths of his sorrow, could all his emotion at last gather into a crude ladder he could use to pull himself out. Because Love had cast him down, he stood up. Because Love had said he couldn’t, he did. Because Love demanded he stay, broken and defeated, he threw Love away, put himself back together, and reached for something new.

He didn’t know what kind of life could possibly come after Geralt, but he knew, at least, that he’d rather search and know than never even look.

“Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to beHe’s down. He’s dead.Now take a long look at what you’ve done to me?”

It was hardly a happy resolution. It was ugly and gritty and tormented, but then what else could have ever come from this war? Nonetheless, as he led his audience into this final arch of their journey, his song blossomed into a kind of vindictive triumph, one that dared the world to try, just try and drag him back into the darkness. It would not, it must not, they collectively swore.

Perhaps, one day, Geralt would come back. It’d be splendid if he did - truly. For then, he could see the rotting carcass of the man Jaskier had to shed in order to forge himself anew. Then, maybe, he’d realize the sins he’d committed, recognize the way he’d sheared Jaskier’s heart to shreds and cast them off the mountainside.

But whether or not he ever did would no longer be a thing Jaskier concerned himself with.

“He’s down, He’s deadHe’s gone, He’s lostHe’s flown, He’s fledNow take a good long look at what you've all done to me”

As Jaskier declared his final words to the crowd, his fingers flew along the strings of his lute, releasing its last, swelling vibrato through the small tavern. The sound grew and grew, until at last it burst into an abrupt silence that swept in and suffocated what few lingering embers might still yet burn for the captivating Witcher.

For a suspenseful moment, not a soul dared disturb it, and even when the daily rumblings of the tavern began to creep back into place no one offered applause - such a thing just didn’t seem right after such an emotional experience as the one which had just unfolded all around them. Not even Jaskier himself offered any levity to the situation, trading his usual bow and playful quip for a simple nod of his head, more for himself than his audience. A small, silent affirmation of his deed, a thanks he afforded himself for finally releasing his pain to the winds of change.

He turned from them and retreated back to his sparse belongings, joining the rest in the tavern in a strange normalcy that pretended like nothing had ever happened. Not but a single soul challenged it, stepping towards him so quietly he hadn’t noticed them until a tiny, trembling finger touched the sleeve of his doublet. Startled, he turned to regard his visitor, a now-distant corner of his mind wondering if he’d find a calloused hand gloved in black.

Of course not. The touch had been too small, too flighty, too careful.

She stared up at him with a round, teary-eyed face, mouth hanging slightly ajar as she still searched for something to say. Studying him, seeing her own shaken state reflected in him, her brow furrowed, and in her eyes he saw an approaching understanding. At last, she murmured, taken with frightful awe, “That... was miserable... ?”

His eyes flickered down, catching the glint of a small trio of coins sequestered in her upturned palm. He knew well what her drifting, questioning inflection reached for, but he only smiled and shook his head, folding her fingers closed around her coin.

“Sometimes, my dear,” he whispered, voice still shuddering from lingering passion, “life is miserable.”

He paused. Chuckled. Hoisted his lute upon his shoulder by the strap of its case.

“And that’s okay.”

[starlightfaltershere]

Geraskier - android Jaskier

@sirencipher and I came up with something wonderful today and thought we gotta share. (they're wonderful ya’ll please give them all your love)

- a post-apocalypse AU, in which jasiker dies. Geralt, heartbroken, and unable to tell their family and friends that Jaskier had passed; builds a droid Jaskier out of desperation (and desolation.)  ‘no one can take the anguish of losing anyone else’ he thinks. ‘but, they can assume this is the real Jaskier.’ Geralt, employing magic, pulls Jaskiers memories from his physical form, and stores them into the droid Jaskier. and for all the droid Jaskier knows, they’re real, alive. 

- it’s a profoundly morbid creation, a hollow thing, ‘but it keeps Jaskiers memory alive’. and for now, that’s enough for Geralt. 

- Geralt covers up that the droid is not real, just until everyone is ready to lose Jaskier he reflects, just a ‘little while’. 

- and droid Jaskier cannot die on Geralt, which offers some consolation. 

- but looking at them makes him feel as if he has betrayed original Jaskier, but somehow he can’t let it go.

- in some moments, it’s easy to forget they aren’t the real Jaskier. he always fails in the times the droid is with other people, they look so real. but droid Jaskier isn’t the same when they are alone; it’s like having Jaskier there, but any time Geralt moves to touch, he dissolves into dandelion fuzz. Geralt could program how Jaskier felt about anybody else. but, Jaskier had never confided how he truly felt about Geralt. “Jaskier had tried as he laid dying, but the bullet had gone straight into his throat. the sole thing that graced his lips was blood and ocean waves.” the part of Jaskier he needs desperately is missing. was rinsed away in the sea’s salt.

-  Geralt had used as many of the memories he could pluck from Jaskier. but himself and the droid could not work out how the memories had threaded together to make up Jaskier. Jasker had always confounded the Witcher, now Geralt desperately wished he had made more of an effort to understand the man.  he’ll never wholly know now, with Jaskier - his Jaskier, his lark - changing into the larkspur flowers he adored so much in a small unmarked grave Geralt had dug him. 

- but Geralt fears that if he dies before he can admit to everybody about Jaskiers death, Jaskier grave will be lost to everyone. he’ll be forgotten. but he cannot risk putting a name to the unmarked grave, he can’t risk everyone finding out.

- ‘but when is their ever a right time to reveal to everyone of the crime he committed out of his own desperation?’

- he doesn’t know, so he vows to himself he will confess to them when he’s moved on. but it’s inconceivable, because everyday he wakes to almost Jaskiers face; it’s almost like the oil paintings in the museum’s Jaskier used to drag him too before the war. all the portraits of beautiful individuals, those individuals who were created perfect by other people. Jaskier was born perfect, and Geralt replication of him has far too many imperfections. it was all wrong.

- the droid stays for a long time. too long. 

- Geralt realises this was a terrible, terrible mistake. a lapse in his judgement - Jaskier caused a lot of those for him -but Geralt knew better. 

- one day he will shut the android down; Jaskier will die a second time. kill the ghost of his love, and that will weigh on his conscience until he’s back again with Jaskier. maybe even after that. 

- he questions why he really did this, did he honestly do this to save Ciri from losing another parent? no. it was a pitiful excuse for being selfish, this is the time Geralt had chosen to be selfish? he just could’nt handle remaining in a world where all his love could do is die. love is now a spear of larkspur, will someone rob him of that too? 

Geralt is pissed at himself for the situation he got himself into. how will he explain the droids death? its disappearance without hurting everyone? without hurting Ciri?

-he’s on a bed of knives, and any move will hurt himself and everyone else. he’s fucked himself. and he knows real Jaskier would be equally pissed as we as find the whole predicament hilarious.

- he can hear Jaskiers response just thinking of it.  “come on Geralt, what we’re thinking? that’s right, you weren’t thinking at all.”

- and perhaps the worse of all, he’s hurt the last remnants of the bard. he’s done a great evil against the android. lying to him about who he is and telling him will burst their mechanical heart. if they have one

- Geralt has gotten himself into a house of mirrors, not matter where he swings it’s going to hurt. he will not escape with no guilt. but it must end, maybe even soon. 'but not today’ he thinks.

- at some point, he finds himself sitting in Jaskiers room, surrounded by the parts of the real Jaskier that were left behind. Geralt had taken up caring for Jaskiers things. the droid couldn’t manage such a task. and they need to keep up appearances. 

- you see, real Jaskier is a fiddler, a tinker. he always had something in his hands. it’s one thing Geralt missed most. he always found broken lute strings tied in shapes and pulled apart pens and things around the house. he was constantly doing something. but all the android can do is hold them. blink at them slowly. they have no recollection of what to do with them.

- so Geralt decides that the droid will never see or touch another thing made by Jaskier hands. 

- the droid can’t even create any new songs, none that sound right. the soul just isn’t there. Geralt wonders why no one has noticed how pale the world is now. there are so many things amiss with android Jaskier. his eyes are the wrong shade of blue. his hair is wrong. passable. but wrong, and no matter how hard Geralt tried he couldn’t replicate Jaskiers smile. and worse, Jaskier sing-song voice. it seemed as if Geralt had hacked the soul from Jaskier. 

- a big part of him is furious that no one has realised the ruse, but they think Jaskier is just under the weather, maybe even heartbroken for the loss of the old world.

-but how could they imagine Geralt doing such a thing like building a fake Jaskier? great isn’t a liar. never. he was renowned for being ruthlessly honest. no one would think him capable of such a thing. but they forget he’s good at pretending. he did it around Jaskier for a long time. everyone. 

- Geralt eventually has a break down over android Jaskier not being enough, about what a piss poor copy he made of the man. Geralt questions if he even really knew the bard.

- he didn’t. and it will torment him until he dies. so he looks through Jaskiers notebooks, in hopes to touch some unexplored part of him. he finds songs, notes of Jaskiers thoughts

- he finally cries. 

- he cries when he sees Jaskiers drawings. he didn’t know the bard could draw. Geralt finds lots of doodles and pictures of him mingled amongst love songs and stories of Geralts heroism. 

- there are unsent love letters, years worths of them. unsent letters addressed to Geralt are tucked amongst the pages. some are sealed, ready to send. others not even finished. Geralt wants to read them, truly. but is it right for him to read them? Jaskier isn’t here to say no and none of this really matters. it doesn’t matter, he’s already surpassed considering morality. so he reads them. 

- It’s all too painful, and the realisation has been a creeping thing, and it hits him like a freight train. And here he is, sitting in the ashes of a man’s life, responsible for a fraudulent version of him.

 And Geralt decides then and there to get rid of the android. But it won’t be easy now, is it? it’s been weeks, months? And there’s so much he must explain. Even to the android. He may not be Jaskier. But he still wears his face.

- but he has to. so like every other night, he helps the droid to bed. but this one will be different. Geralt can’t help but take the droids to face in his hands - cradle Jaskiers face in his hands for the first and last time. and tell them the truth.

- the droid cannot cry, but if they could he know it would be. Geralt tells them he’s so fucking sorry. love - love makes you do stupid things. horrible things. but it won’t hurt, he swears, it’s just like going to sleep, you’ve gone to sleep so many times

-  Geralt slowly raises the droids shirt. pries its chest open - where Jaskiers heart should be. ha, Geralt thinks, this is not the first time he’s ripped Jaskiers heart open, he’s read the bards poems, songs, about how the Witchers hands had dug into jaskiers soul and tore it into two. but this isn’t Jaskier. with tears, Geralt pulls out wires and wheels that made up the droids heart. 

- the droid leaves him with the image of Jaskiers face permanently frozen half afraid, half sad look. not too much different from how the real Jaskier looked. just lacked the sea water and blood.

- Geralt catches the droid as it fell. something he wished he could have done for Jaskier. he sets them on the bed. makes it look as if Jaskier had passed peacefully. for his own sake and for their families sake. it’s what he deserved. 

I no one really asked what happened. a great many of the things could have happened. Jaskier finally gets a funeral. one he deserves. but Geralt asks to bury him alone. he dismantles the droid. and marks Jaskiers grave; it lays facing the ocean. 

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by ScribblesOnMapleLeaves

The first of my "mandatory witcher fics", I present to you:

1) The Forgiver: Geralt and Jaskier work through their problems after "The Mountain"! Jaskier finally lets himself get angry. Geralt finally admits to himself that he loves Jaskier. They kiss and make up.

Except I couldn't help but make it sad. This is partially inspired by How I Met Your Mother, because I hate it when they do this, so I had to try it out myself. I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1455, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Mandatory Witcher Fics

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Roach

Additional Tags: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, angst with a happy ending except without the happy ending, Angst, no beta we die like renfri, First Kiss, Sort Of, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Love Letters, kind of?, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Tries His Best, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, jaskier rambles a lot, jaskier is the emotionally constipated one this time, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, I hope, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Title from a The Amazing Devil Song, because joey batey is my god, and madeleine hyland is a queen, Fluff with a Sad Ending, With A Twist, like a creemie, fuck off it's not soft serve, Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, A little, like not really but sort of

[witcherfic]

ScribblesOnMapleLeaves July 26, 2020 at 01:03PM

by ScribblesOnMapleLeaves

The first of my "mandatory witcher fics", I present to you:

1) The Forgiver: Geralt and Jaskier work through their problems after "The Mountain"! Jaskier finally lets himself get angry. Geralt finally admits to himself that he loves Jaskier. They kiss and make up.

Except I couldn't help but make it sad. This is partially inspired by How I Met Your Mother, because I hate it when they do this, so I had to try it out myself. I hope you enjoy!

Words: 1455, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Mandatory Witcher Fics

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Roach

Additional Tags: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly hurt, angst with a happy ending except without the happy ending, Angst, no beta we die like renfri, First Kiss, Sort Of, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Love Letters, kind of?, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Tries His Best, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, jaskier rambles a lot, jaskier is the emotionally constipated one this time, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, I hope, How Do I Tag, I Tried, Title from a The Amazing Devil Song, because joey batey is my god, and madeleine hyland is a queen, Fluff with a Sad Ending, With A Twist, like a creemie, fuck off it's not soft serve, Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, A little, like not really but sort of

[reverseprompts]

Reverse Prompt Challenge #15 - Letters Unsent Master List

Thank you everyone for your participation! We had 3 entries this time - all different fandoms!!

Lost Mail by eerian_sadow Rated T, Transformers, no ships, Words: 364 

Making a Bouquet from Wildflowers by @hopelessly-me Rated T, Marvel, Clint/Tony, Words: 1802

A Strange Garden by @pherryt Rated T, Witcher, Lambert/Aiden, Geralt/Jaskier, Words: 6021

The next prompt will be going up later Today! And Don’t forget about the new Discord!

Reverse Prompt Challenge #15 - letters Unsent

art by @dragonpressgraphics

Starting Date - Today, March 5th, 2022

Ending Date -   June 5th, 2022

Remember to tag us @reverseprompts if you post to tumblr to make sure we see your entry so we can reblog it and also make a Master List of all stories created for this picture.

Please also enter your creation in the AO3 collection (if you post via AO3) : Reverse_Prompt_Challenge

The Basic Rules are in this post and other important links and updates in this one -  if you have any questions, feel free to ask!

OPEN FANDOM!

OPEN SHIP (Or no ship at all!)

And Combining with other events are allowed as long as those events also allow it.

Reminder that if we don’t reblog your post within a week - please send us an ask, Tumblr isn’t always great at notifications!

*Note About the Art:  why yes, it is another TAD inspired piece. It hadn’t been intended as the next prompt when it was made, but then it was strongly suggested that it should be.

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

The muse saga

Hi there. This is the masterpost for my Jaskier's fics regrouped under the "muse saga" title. Here is what to know about it.

Jaskier is the main character. He is bi or pan. He loves Geralt platonically but he is his muse so it means that this is the strongest kind of link for him. Can be read as romantic also.

The muse saga covers all the seasons of the witcher and are a mixte between the TV show and the books.

All the fics are mature. Contain depressive state to suicidal thoughts, and alcoholim. Some are whump and have blood. I try no to be too graphic though. But some scenes can be disturbing. On my blog you can access each chapter separately with detailed warnings. Follow the # "muse saga" on this post to find them.

Here are my fanfics in chronological order with characteristics and pitch :

Endless pain [x] : OS just after the mountain. 1,2k words. Jaskier never felt that much pain in his life but when Geralt shattered his heart. This is how he entered a world of endless pain.

Bleobheris [x] : Multichapter. ~ 20k words. Whump (mature only : because has disturbing scenes) This is the story of how the raid of Bleobheris turned Jaskier into the Sandpiper.

A bird in a cage [x] : Multichapter (8). 21,5k words. Whump. Jaskier has been put in jail after Yennefer had disappeared in the whorehouse. He has wounds that need some time to heal, both physical and emotional. Time he doesn't really have... He will have to dig deep to find the light in him.

Where do I belong [x] : Multichapter (6). 11k words (has disturbing mindsets moments). After the battle of Kaer Morhen, bluntly rejected by Lambert, ignored by most, Jaskier struggles to find where he belongs and why he is still there. [Multi POV]

A shard of glass [x] : OS. 5k words. At Kaer Morhen, Vesemir noticed Jaskier is skipping dinners. A conversation with the bard reopens old resentment toward humans and leads to a bad judgement. Harsh words are shared but kind too. And maybe Jaskier will finally find the comfort he needs. [Vesemir POV]

A place to rest [x] : OS. 5.9k words. (This is set after the end of the books - spoilers). Zoltan had received a letter from Jaskier asking him to meet him in Rinde for a short travel together. He knows his friend his not well for a long time but this may be the time to address some issues and reconnect. [Zoltan POV]

The man that never smiled [x] : OS. 7k words. (This is set after the end of the books and references more than is shown on the TV show so it can be spoilery) The Continent had drastically changed but some beacons of the past are still there, wandering in the garden of the academy of Oxenfurt. Elika, a young student, will meet this strange man that never smiles and would change her life, somehow... [OC POV]

(All the fics are on FFnet. I know nobody likes it but this is my historical account so I stayed here.)

Part of the Muse Saga, there are also the unsent letters that are inly on tumblr.

To Geralt - Winter's heart : [x]

To Geralt - What should I've been [x]

To Ciri : [x]

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Unsent letters to Geralt - winter's heart

I've never lacked words before. Too noisy ? Too chatty ? Or whatever.

Your bite froze my heart in a painful and eternal winter,

where no word can no longer alter.

🌼

You wrenched every petal off me and left me dead. I knew this pain before,

so I waited to come to life again. But no sun, no summer can warm my core.

I lie still in this garden, like every flower, but I lost my colors.

🌼

Why did I make of you my ink blood. Now my roots have dried.

And every petal I grow withers. You're my poison, my cyanide.

Taking my life bit by bit, till I petrified.

🌼

I'm just a fool… Because more dead than alive, I still love you, Wolf mine.

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Unsent letters to Geralt - What should I've been?

I got some inspiration for this old photoshoot [x]. So, sometimes, I will share some of Jaskier's unsent letters to Geralt.

What if Jaskier found this empty place while heading to the coast. He stays a bit out of the world for some time, trying to process his feelings and dealing with his heartbreak.

Alone with blank pages, he writes everything down.

Would I've been a warrior ? Would I've been a mute ? Would I've been a mutant like you ? Would I've been an elf or a dwarf or any other long living creature ? Maybe you would have accepted me.

Would I've been a rare monster ? Would I've been combat skilled ? Maybe you would have respected me.

Would I've been a dark and voluptuous sorceress ? Maybe you would have loved me.

I often stay on the beach nearby, listening to the waves, wondering what kind of person I should have been for you to make a simple friend of me…

I wish I could understand why you destroyed me.

[tree-woven]

this ship is about geralt and yen settling down, and yen’s restless heart keeping her awake, filled with the longing to hear a familiar voice call ‘yenna’ in the darkness. It’s geralt feeling a heavy burden whenever he remembers how he used to walk the streets of beauclair with regis on his side, and oh, he remembers often. it’s him missing triss’s laugh, her red hair glistening in the sunlight, her eyes lighting up at his sight. It’s triss writing dozens of letters to yenna and burning all of them unsent, her dreaming of letting her hands run through raven locks and getting lost in violet eyes. It’s her holding onto tokens geralt gifted her in their short time together, hoping he thinks fondly of her too. it’s yen first not being able to bear watch triss leave after one of her visits, then refusing to let her go and triss refusing to leave. that night, she is holding onto both yenna and geralt as if they could dissolve into nothing if she dared to let go. it’s regis finding the house empty on one of his visits, except for the enigma that is yennefer of vengerberg and them spending the moonlight night with all the tender, complex conversations only those two could have, feeling almost overcome with wine-dark desire before dawn. It’s triss falling for the gentleness of this stranger, of this vampire, his wisdom and his teeth, and her enchanting him with a wink, followed by a blush, followed by the most endearing hungry eyes and lovely words he heard in a while. it’s regis tending to geralt’s wounds and healing them like only a lover’s hands could. It’s geralt finding the vampire’s lair, asking him to come home, the home he can’t call home until regis is there too.

I've thought about it and not only do i like geralt x regis, I'm also incredibly fond of the idea of triss x yen x regis x geralt. they could all live in Corvo Bianco. it's perfect

[fandom-trash-and-hyperfixations]

Well fuck. Now I'm off to read this heartbreak.

I always believed I would spend the rest of my days with you all, or like we always did, crossing path, sharing adventures, or a meal somewhere, anywhere... We always had something to share.

I would have followed you as long as my legs would have carried me. I would have sung to you as long as my voice would have hold. And then I hoped you would have visited me when I would have been too old... Because you were eternal to mere mortals like me and this was the only good way to end this story. You alive. Me dead.

But today, I am lost. That future won't exist and I don't know what to do. You left me on that bank and disappeared into the mist, when all I wished was lying with them. I understand your feelings, princess, but, if they are not alive, I don't belong with the living either... You know it.

Now, my body seems too heavy to move even if I feel empty, and my heart is too broken to feel anything but pain. I don't know how to sing, because my voice is trapped somewhere.

There is nowhere I feel home anymore. I am just a lost soul on this sphere. So please, come back... or welcome me on the other side. Don't leave me here... alone. I beg of you. This is not fair I have to stay here, in a space full of your absence.

You denied me the right to have a more peaceful end and I saw in your eyes that you will never come back. Maybe we could have mourn together. We didn't have to be alone to face this ordeal, didn't we ?

But maybe you knew that my own pain would be too much to bear and you couldn't see me never heal. Maybe you were right. Maybe that's better that way. But maybe it means that everyone understood, and I was in denial all my life. Maybe my own kind knew from my first breath in this world how unworthy of love I was, and I should have bent before that heart would know the feeling. Maybe that's why in the end, I have to face this alone...

I am sorry, princess, for my bitter words but the wound is too fresh and the fall is hard, because I thought for a short time that I was enough and worth to be part of your family, when clearly it was just a construct of my mind. Also you knew what to say, but this is not fair you used that against me to keep me alive... on this side. Because I will give myself heart and soul to the task you gave me, knowing it will never bring me real peace.

But my letter isn't for that.

Yes, I am bitter that you did that to me, but deep inside I can't blame you and never will. You had too much to endure. This is only pain speaking and I am sorry. I have to find a way to accept things as they are. I need just time. Probably.

This letter is there to enlighten what I should have said before. What I should have say many times. I have to make things right before my own end.

The poet in me wants to believe that you knew how much I love you all. But for the first time in my life I regret I never said those three little words out loud. You are gone and it is too late now. There is no second chances with those kind of things.

I will continue to tell the story of my beloved family to the world as you asked me to, if I can find my voice back, but the world doesn't deserve the words I would say to you only. I will continue to hide them to their eyes and ears, like the most extraordinary things I keep inside.

But for you, I write these words, for the first and the last time. This is a beacon in the dark and the most important thing anyone has to know. And you have to know.

I LOVE YOU.

Your crazy uncle Jaskier.

(Letter found in a empty wine bottle in a lake in Rivia)

[lansalla]

Thank you for this. I always feel so bad for Jaskier at the end of the book. He was left alone. He lost everyone in an instant

I always believed I would spend the rest of my days with you all, or like we always did, crossing path, sharing adventures, or a meal somewhere, anywhere... We always had something to share.

I would have followed you as long as my legs would have carried me. I would have sung to you as long as my voice would have hold. And then I hoped you would have visited me when I would have been too old... Because you were eternal to mere mortals like me and this was the only good way to end this story. You alive. Me dead.

But today, I am lost. That future won't exist and I don't know what to do. You left me on that bank and disappeared into the mist, when all I wished was lying with them. I understand your feelings, princess, but, if they are not alive, I don't belong with the living either... You know it.

Now, my body seems too heavy to move even if I feel empty, and my heart is too broken to feel anything but pain. I don't know how to sing, because my voice is trapped somewhere.

There is nowhere I feel home anymore. I am just a lost soul on this sphere. So please, come back... or welcome me on the other side. Don't leave me here... alone. I beg of you. This is not fair I have to stay here, in a space full of your absence.

You denied me the right to have a more peaceful end and I saw in your eyes that you will never come back. Maybe we could have mourn together. We didn't have to be alone to face this ordeal, didn't we ?

But maybe you knew that my own pain would be too much to bear and you couldn't see me never heal. Maybe you were right. Maybe that's better that way. But maybe it means that everyone understood, and I was in denial all my life. Maybe my own kind knew from my first breath in this world how unworthy of love I was, and I should have bent before that heart would know the feeling. Maybe that's why in the end, I have to face this alone...

I am sorry, princess, for my bitter words but the wound is too fresh and the fall is hard, because I thought for a short time that I was enough and worth to be part of your family, when clearly it was just a construct of my mind. Also you knew what to say, but this is not fair you used that against me to keep me alive... on this side. Because I will give myself heart and soul to the task you gave me, knowing it will never bring me real peace.

But my letter isn't for that.

Yes, I am bitter that you did that to me, but deep inside I can't blame you and never will. You had too much to endure. This is only pain speaking and I am sorry. I have to find a way to accept things as they are. I need just time. Probably.

This letter is there to enlighten what I should have said before. What I should have say many times. I have to make things right before my own end.

The poet in me wants to believe that you knew how much I love you all. But for the first time in my life I regret I never said those three little words out loud. You are gone and it is too late now. There is no second chances with those kind of things.

I will continue to tell the story of my beloved family to the world as you asked me to, if I can find my voice back, but the world doesn't deserve the words I would say to you only. I will continue to hide them to their eyes and ears, like the most extraordinary things I keep inside.

But for you, I write these words, for the first and the last time. This is a beacon in the dark and the most important thing anyone has to know. And you have to know.

I LOVE YOU.

Your crazy uncle Jaskier.

(Letter found in a empty wine bottle in a lake in Rivia)