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    The thing is, Eskel honestly hadn’t meant for the flower to mean anything special.

    It’s just... the half-elf had looked so miserable. And Eskel had wanted to do something to make him look a little less miserable. In the week they’d been traveling together, Eskel had managed a single sentence in broken Elder... and had learned that the only word his new companion seemed to know in Common was ‘no.’ The first time he’d said it, and Eskel had stopped whatever it was that he’d been doing, he’d looked so confused—like he’d expected to be ignored. Eskel had wanted to comfort him, to reassure him, but he hadn’t known how. He had remarkably little experience with comforting—but even if he did, nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

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    27 Jul 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Eskel went to sleep the same as most nights, dreaming of blue eyes full of mirth and devoid of fear that he had known for a very short time.. a long time ago.

    How a witcher with a love for poetry finds a poet with a soft spot for witchers.

    Eskel's POV mostly, with some from Jaskier, Geralt, Lambert, and Vesemir.

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    27 Jul 2025

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    From the moment Jaskier approached his table, he's always smelled thick and heady with arousal-- part of being eighteen, Geralt supposed. He used to stay in a dark corner of a sad tavern and drink to distract himself while the Jaskier finished his songs, plopped down at the table across from him and pouted, then turned his most lovelorn look at a pretty maid. Geralt drank deep as Jaskier whispered sweet nothings and soft, dark promises to her, felt the heat grow in the room as the blush rose in them both and they fumbled away. By the time he could hear Jaskier coming-- panting, hot and fast-- he usually found the shattered remains of his tankard in his fist.
     

    Geralt can hear all of Jaskier's amorous encounters... and finds he can't bring himself to stay out of earshot.

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    27 Jul 2025

  4. Public Bookmark 14

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    place for my siren!jaskier works

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    27 Jul 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 69

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    Geralt startles when he gets a good look at the man’s face—slightly shimmery, with eyes with a faint sheen of green-blue.

    “You’re a siren,” Geralt huffs in surprise, dropping the man into the mud.

    “Hey!” The siren grumbles as he flings the mud off of his sparkling clothes, reflecting the light like fish scales. “That was very rude.”

    Geralt takes his sword out of its sheath.

    “Oh dear,” the siren says, not sounding very concerned at all. “Well, this has been lovely, but I’ve got to go. Pressing matters to attend to, you know.”

    He manages to disappear with a flourish of his lute and a bow just as Geralt’s sword passes through where his form had been just a second earlier, melting into the darkness of the swampy forest.

    Or, Jaskier is a siren, Geralt is emotionally constipated, and they bumble their way through towns and taverns and swamps over the years, and maybe find each other along the way.

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    27 Jul 2025