boyandhiscat



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Geralt makes two promises that he doesn't want to keep.

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    11 Aug 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Geralt had known Jaskier studied at Oxenfurt University, but he had thought of it as a sort of formal music education. It was becoming abundantly clear that while he had indeed studied music and composition, he also knew a lot more than Geralt had ever learned. And it was impressive. And humbling, too.

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    10 Aug 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Geralt was hanging limply against the rough bark. Two daggers kept him pinioned like a bug in place and left dark streaks of drying blood down his arms and exposed chest. Silver hair was matted close to his forehead from a sluggishly bleeding would that left golden eyes hazy and unfocused. Worst still were the bruises littering every inch of exposed skin like a collage of torment.

    His Witcher had been tortured.

    ———

    There was a name for the emotion burning like fire in his blood, eating away at the dandelion bard that had made his living seeking the pleasure of others. A simple phrase that barely encompasses the new tension in his bones and made his mind focus with singular, violent intent.

    Wrath.
    _________________________

    Geralt leaves Jaskier to go on a hunt that quickly goes wrong. Jaskier decides to take matters into his own hands.

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    09 Aug 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Jaskier doesn’t actually know how much time has passed since the black-cloaked Nilfgaardians grab him after a performance in a shitty tavern in the backcountry of northern Kaedwen. He’d assumed--foolishly, apparently--that he was far enough north that any Nilfgaardian soldiers would be few and far between, likely just scouts or even deserters. It would have been hard to actually get any further north--the little backwater town where he’d been singing was just a day from the mountains. Anymore travel, and he’d find himself skirting the Trail up to Kaer Morhen, the Warlord’s Keep, and, well. He’s brazen, but not that brazen.

    (or: a wandering bard bites off more than he can chew with the political ballads, accidentally makes friends with a princess in exile, and finds the Warlord of the North in his debt.)

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    08 Aug 2026

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    “Seriously, brother,” Teodora says, “you’re wanted for treason, what in Melitele’s name did you do?”

    “Nothing,” Jaskier tells her. “It’s just that my soulmate’s the warlord of the north.”

    She stares at him, open-mouthed. And then she begins to giggle. “Only you, Julek,” she says when she finally has some control back. “You did always like to be dramatic.”

    The four lives of Julian Alfred Pankratz: noble, sex slave, soulmate, bard.

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    06 Aug 2026