TJWsnek

It’s just that Geralt and Jaskier have stopped travelling together.

Jaskier always gives Roach the best treats, including the juiciest apples.

So, naturally, what is Horse do if not run away to where the delicious treats are?

But Jaskier isn’t stupid, and so he carries around a very potent poison that can kill him almost instantly, and from experience has been proven to only leave him dead for around fifteen minutes. Because he does travel alone sometimes, and it’s better to kill himself in the middle of nowhere than to risk getting robbed when he’s sick, injured, etc.

Even though he can do it though, he’s not a big fan of it, and prefers to just ride out the pain/sickness with Geralt when possible. Because, okay, dying HURTS, and he’s never been able to find a poison that works rapidly and doesn’t make it feel like he’s being boiled alive, his heart thudding painfully in his chest until it just…gives out.

(Plus, he secretly likes the way Geralt will give him his cloak, and make him tea, and gently check his wounds. The witcher doesn’t exactly fuss, but he does let him ride Roach sometimes when he’s particularly unwell, with the witcher sitting behind him in the saddle and making sure he doesn’t fall off as he dozes.)

But then the mountain happens. And Jaskier is traveling with Geralt again, sure, but now he knows how he actually feels about traveling with a “human”. So even though Jaskier would prefer to just power through the nasty head cold he feels coming on, he digs in the bottom of his pack for the poison as soon as Geralt leaves to hunt. Because he can’t give the witcher yet another reason to leave him, not when the fix is so easy, not when Geralt clearly already wants as little contact, physical or otherwise, with him as possible.

He downs the vial, the familiar spasms taking over him almost instantly, and is about to let his eyes fall shut when he hears Geralt returning far too soon. A Geralt who does not know about Jaskier’s regeneration ability.

But the bard’s mouth has already stopped working, he can’t even lift his head, and the last thing he thinks before he’s gone is that Geralt looked a lot more…concerned? Than he thought he would.

And when Jaskier wakes up in Geralt’s arms, and explains everything, the bard is more than a little confused at the witcher’s insistence that he never kill himself again, at least when traveling with Geralt. The bard tries to argue that sometimes it’s necessary, but agrees to not do it unless it’s an emergency at the wild look in the man’s golden eyes.

Jaskier is still a little worried when he starts to feel another cold coming on two months later, but instead of Geralt leaving him like he feared, the man becomes a verifiable mother hen, refusing to leave the bard alone for even a second. And if Jaskier notes the way all weapons are kept far out of his reach, and the dagger he usually hides in his boot goes missing, well.

for the dysphoric transmen/mascs on their period <3 (aka me)

(DO NOT REUPLOAD MY ART!)

transcribed text under cut

to “are you sure that’s a cat”

el wiwi

One child to take my kingdom, she promised me. Well, I’d wanted an heir. It didn’t have to be a curse. 

One child the sea would steal. There was room in that. They didn’t have to die, only to love the sea. I would buy the finest ships. 

And the third would suffer my grandmother’s fate. 

The tower. 

Grandmother told me stories about that tower, shuddering. About the isolation almost driving her mad. About the desperate longing for escape. I know what that escape cost her, and my grandfather as well, with his scarred face and limping gait. 

That was going to be difficult. 

The sorceress’s curse worked. Within the year, I held my first babe in my arms, a sturdy boy who kicked and cried and cuddled against his mother as if he hadn’t been made only to bring me grief. Well, all mothers grieve. 

Hannibal's predacious nuzzling when he's in his element, either with his mate or his prey.

But Hannibal is mostly affected by sensory stimuli— he savors his wine with his nose first. Sutcliffe, a former colleague, makes a quip about Hannibal being able to pinpoint the exact perfumes the nurses wore. If he could smell Bella’s cancer from paces away, he could do the same with Will’s encephalitis, yet he gets close enough to feel his warmth, the tickle of his hair. Every time we see a scene of him participating in Will’s mental decline, he’s comforting him with touch. He switches from psychologically soothing blues and browns to vibrant hues as he becomes more involved with the FBI, a poisonous predator in their midst.