marcicat: (badger travel)
I've thought about this fic several times recently, with the idle notion of searching it up in my bookmarks (unlikely to work, but probably would have turned up several other mostly-forgotten gems). And then, lo! It showed up in The Rec Center #506! What luck!

The god of scraped knees, by spqr

Jaskier tries to stop listening, tries to look as innocuously, condemnably human as possible while he puts a leg up on a log and starts to strum for the jolly campers. But he still hears Geralt, almost amused, “Who, Jaskier? He’s as normal as they come.”
marcicat: (tree with rainbow swirls)
I think this may have been the first Witcher fic I ever read? And then I promptly it, but in a stroke of luck it crossed my screen again last night, and I had a lot of fun re-reading it.

can i offer you a little salt for that wound, by ShanaStoryteller

“Uh,” he clears his throat, “are you going to let me go?”

She looks down to where she’s still holding onto him, something calculating in her expression before it smooths away. “No. You’re going to tell me everything you know so I can figure out what the fuck is going on.”

Knowing what’s going on sounds nice, and will be a new experience for him, but. “Okay, but can we do it later? I have to go on in like, two hours, and I feel like this might end in tears – mine, to be clear – and I can’t go on stage all phlegmy."

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