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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    When Geralt is a young witcher, he loves to sing. Love songs and ballads and ridiculous little ditties, it doesn't matter. He delights in using his voice, in making beautiful music. But then he's given the "gift" of jewels falling from his mouth whenever he speaks. A gift that kings would kill for. Would certainly hurt a lowly mutant for.

    He doesn't much like to sing, after that.

    (Written for Geralt Whump Week, Day 3: Cursed)

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    24 Dec 2024

    Bookmarker's Notes

    sing me something i need by WingedQuill

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    “Shit,” Jaskier swore, knowing what was going to happen even before he saw it: with all his weight back on them, Geralt’s legs buckled, folded. There was no grace to it, only hard impact against the wooden floorboards, and Jaskier winced. But Geralt didn’t stop there, didn’t simply sit and rest; no, his torso pitched forward, elbows bracing before his head could hit the floor, at least.

    “Geralt!” Jaskier was by his side again in an instant, kneeling next to him, hands fluttering helplessly. He didn’t know where to touch, where it was safe. It was dark, the room’s lamps not yet lit and only faint moonlight coming through the window. “Shit. This is bad. Real bad.” It took a lot to best a Witcher. Even more so the White Wolf. Venom, usually, if Geralt’s halting recounts of past fights were any believable source.

    “What do I do?”

    -or-
    Jaskier takes care of Geralt, and then 'takes care' of him some more

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    27 Dec 2024

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Long Past Friendship by kentucka

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    Against his better judgement, Lambert buys a Cat witcher at an auction. He's intending to either kill the Cat - if it turns out he was involved in the Tournament - or let him go free. But of course it turns out to be a little more complicated than that.

    Aiden is not expecting to be rescued by a very grumpy Wolf, but really, he's not complaining.

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    27 Jan 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Wasn't Looking But I Found You Anyway by inexplicifics

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    Geralt remembered, dimly, the feel of gentle hands on his skin. A hand in his. A kiss pressed to his forehead. A hand touching his sticky, sickly face, and recoiling. A cry of shock and pain. A glimpse of blistered skin.

    “How long has it been?” Jaskier said. “Since somebody touched you?”

    The mutagens used to make boys into witchers leave poison in their skin, in their hair, in their blood. To touch a witcher is agony. To get too close to one is deadly.

    Jaskier doesn't seem to care.

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    16 Apr 2025

    Bookmarker's Notes

    The Price of a Touch by kathkin

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    “It’s what you haven’t done, son,” Alfred’s voice was brusque and short, but not unkind. Jaskier braced himself. “It’s time you settled down and found a wife.”

    The room went silent. Every eye in the room bounced between the two men, no one daring to speak. Every eye except one- Geralt, who sedately finished chewing his breakfast, seeming to completely ignore the pleading glances Jaskier was shooting him. After a long pause, the witcher looked up and glanced around the table, meeting Jaskier’s eye briefly, before stating, calmly, “Can’t. He’s already married.”

    “Right, yes, of course,” Jaskier nodded his agreement before actually hearing Geralt’s words. “I’m- wait, uh-"

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    31 Dec 2023

    Bookmarker's Notes

    In Want of a Wife by Swankyo0