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“but without ai how will i be able to make cool art?”

there are resources. pick up a pencil.

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Cat Scarf Pattern // Crochet By Ula

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why would I camp somewhere named Hole Where You'll Freeze To Death

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Minotaur Partner Headcanons

Hellloooo I’m back, very sorry for being away but honestly I uploaded those previous two posts on a whim and came back from Spain to my tumblr having loads of notifications. SO thank you and here’s another segment of my Monster Lover Headcanons with the Minotaur! One a bit of a Greek fix lately so here we go.

Background

Minotaurs. Big beefy and sweet as all hell.

Headcanon for how they started? Easy, out Mr Original, Asterion the sweet poor lamb (BTW for those who maybe don’t know that was the Minotaur’s original name) did actual kill the sacrifices but tried to help them but they all fled in fear of him and died in the Labyrinth except one, a lovely lady I’m going to call Hemera.

She ended up staying in the labyrinth with Asterion, falling in love and determined to get them both out.

Theseus fucks along and when he’s about to kill her beloved she knocks him the fuck out, uses the yarn to get them all out, then fucks off with her hubby to the Mountains and lets everyone think Theseus killed him by leaving behind part of his broken horn.

They start a farm up in the mountains (With support from Asterions mother Persiphae and his sisters and eventually his brother in Law Dionysus who are happy Asterion is alive and happy cuz FUCK MINOS.)

Eventually they have several kids (Adorable as fuck) and a thriving mountain farm that the kiddos inherited.

As such Minotaurs are all related, and as such they often seek human partners.

Minotaurs like in mountainous regions, often protected by the God Dionysus, whose wife is all their many times great aunt who was forced to marry Theseus and tried to kill him and only gave him the yarn so her brother could kill him and use it to get out we love you Adriane <3

They grow lots of things but they are famous for wine 😉

White, red, rose, dessert. They make every type and its so fucking good.

Maybe you’re a wine coniseur, maybe you decided to go visit the farms on holiday, maybe you’re a local they trade with or a worker on the farm.

Needless to say when you catch a Minotaurs eye, you are staying for good.

SFW

Big sweethearts. Big beefy adorable sweethearts. Muscled as fuck and strong, with big soulful eyes and soft fur and hnghhghhg

I got fucking sidetracked

Anyway, Minotaur’s are very family orientated and all work on the huge collective farms in various roles. Don’t worry, wether or not you can contribute to the farm is moot, you’re their love and you don’t have to prove yourself in anyway and also if you’re human they kinda get overprotective and its like, ‘no please don’t help we don’t want you to get bruised or tired we love you just go and relax and let us do all the hard work baby <3.’

The hardest of workers, baby if you have a minotaur partner one of your main jobs is teaching them not to overwork themselves because they just wanna be good and make sure everything is good and they can’t stand doing nothing or not taking care of you.

If they could physically carry you around all the time, and this is more about your want to walk because they could carry you around all the time, you’re their Love, their sweet delicate loves. Please let them carry you around, it makes them so happy.

Their favourite thing in the world is taking care of you.

You’re hungry? They will literally go out to the farm and find the juiciest, best tasting produce and will hand feed it to you.

You have achy muscles? Oh poor baby, let them get their big strong hands and soothe all those aches and pains away.

If you do the same for them??

Ooooh, love, love love love.

They’re favourite thing? Honestly is when you lay down and they can curl up and put their head on your lap, letting you scratch their heads and between their horns.

Ooooh you scratch between their horns or behind their ears?? Very happy Minotaur, very happy wiggly minotaur. You’ll be lucky if you can get up for the next few hours, this is a pleasure that is rare and cherished.

They will also always show off. They can’t help it they just so want to impress you.

They’ll play fight with other Minotaurs in front of their loves, pick up heavy things, lift you up and carry you around.

They love making flower crowns too, and any crafts they take up they’ll make you something.

They love being praised. They absolutely love it, please praise them. Tell them how strong they are, how sweet they can be, how soft there fur is or how lovely their eyes are. They will melt, making soft little ‘moo’ sounds out of sheer pleasure.

They will also praise you constantly.

Your talents, your looks, even how you breathe. If it can be praised they will do it.

They also take a little longer to fall in Love, it’s a long term distrust thing, but once they do they fall *hard*.

And they will do anything in their power to prove this love to you. They love hard and they love deeply.

Bless their hearts but for a long time they’ll probably act like a Minotaur in love until one moment when they see you holding  a baby Minotaur, or if the sun catches on your face the right way or even just sitting together and drinking something warm and suddenly it’s like a switch goes off in their heads.

“I love this person. ILOVE THIS PERSON!!” Nothing but joy and love and warmth.

Very physically affectionate. Hugs, cuddles, handholding, licking, kissing….

Yeah, their love language is love and praise. Which leads us into

NSFW:

So Minotaurs are big. In every way.

Not only are they generally built like strongmen. All muscles and covered in a nice thick layer of fat, male and female Minotaur are built this way.

Big muscles, big breasts and pecs, fat cocks and pussies. Everything is big and ready for you to feast upon.

One of the major things they like doing to you is lick.

Their tongues are thick and long, and they love to lick the taste of your salty sweat from your skin, to lick your salty semen and tangy arousal from your pussy or cock. They long to spread you open and lock you clean or flick their tongue over your most sensitive parts.

Sit on their face. Don’t give them any bullshit about being to heavy they are fucking Minotaurs and you will sit on their face so help them Dionysus.

Suffocation??? Who gives a shit about that, fucking sit on them and let them eat your ass/pussy out!!!!! If they die they die, and they will die with no regrets.

They are so soft with you though, loving touches and praising how good you taste and feel around and in them. How good you sound calling their names and begging for them. Such a darling thing, a sweet pretty love.

Yeah they are the kings/queens of accidental overstim. It’s always just one more orgasm, one more sweet baby, just give me one more. God they love you so much, please let them keep going, please just one more orgasm, just one more sweet orgasm.

Your legs will be shaking, you’ll be cockdumb/pussydrunk to the point you can barely speak but you keep going because you love them so much and gods it feels so fucking good.

You will be covered in fluids. Cum, semen, spit, all over the place. Covering your skin, filling your mouth, filling you. There will not be an area untouched by them and you love it.

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #terat0philliac #terato

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Hi all,

So I’m new to the writing scene and I’m planning this do a lot more but I’m on holiday without internet for the next two weeks.

I’m gonna keep writing for the monster partner series and I apologise for the deluge you’ll get when you when I get back.

So, whilst I’m gone and if you wanna make any requests please feel free. I do monsters mostly but I can do character requests if I’ve watched the stuff enough. So any horror character is good!

Obviously Minors Do Not Interact.

What I won’t do:

Anything involving children

Rape

Bestiality (Obviously werewolves and other sentient monsters are good but I’m not gonna write about someone fucking a dog.)

DDLG

But anything else is good as long as it abides by the safe, sane and Consensual rule

I’ll write a more comprehensive version when I get back but until then happy monster fucking!

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #monster x reader #terat0philliac #terato #slashers #horror #slasher x reader #slasher x you #monster x you #monster x y/n #monster x oc #monster x girl #monster x female #monster x gender neutral reader #monster x male reader #monster x fem!reader

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Gorgon partner headcanons

Right right right right

Ok ok So Gorgons.

I have a personal headcannon for these guys. I will say they are descended from the original 3 Gorgon sisters.

They have snakes for hair, scaled skin, walk on two legs that can shift into a massive snake tail.

Can be male or female, do have the ‘paralysing stare’ but unlike their divine ancestors it only stuns for a short period of time, paralysing the attacker rather than turning them to stone.

They can also control it thanks to a third, transparent, eyelid

They come in numerous colour patterns and live mostly in warm environments around the Mediterranean sea. In fact there are hidden villages on Gorgons hidden.

Live very Modern-Ancient Greece. But more feminism, lots more feminism. They ancestors were all women by the way.

How were the species born? By the three original Gorgons mating with humans or through divine parthenogenesis.

Anyway to help genetics, and because they are all related, Gorgons tend to mate with humans and no matter gender they can sire or carry eggs. Any child will also be a gorgon.

Now that I have gotten my hypothesising out of the way, onto the stuff.

SFW:

At first Gorgons are not extremely physically affectionate. In fact you may be hard pressed to even know if they like you at first. But do not be fooled! Their hard outer shells hold extremely squishy insides.

They are probably internally going absolutely fucking crazy over you. Overthinking every move they make, each interactions they have with you.

Outside face: -.-

Inside: Ok ok, be cool. The pretty human is talking to you- gods their eyes are beautiful, should I tell them? No that would be weird! Maybe I can mention it in a roundabout day- Oh.My.Gods they called my scales PRETTY!!!!!! MARRY ME YOU GORGEOUS HUMAN!

Yeah poor little guys are messes, they are quite reserves as a species.

Very much on the gift-giving and acts of service way of showing affection. But more along the way that if you mention needing something done they’ll do it. Like if you mention you have an issue with your car they’ll fic it or arrange for it to be fixed the same hour. Also very much on the spectrum of if you mention you like something they will make sure you have it every day. Use this power wisely.

Most Gorgons you meet will also have large vegetable and fruit gardens and also some form of animal. As a species a big part of their courting to be able to feed and provide for their mate. They also live in a part of the world great for crops.

They also build their homes partly into the earth. These homes are highly decorated and built with the intention for the Gorgons lifestyle. Whether its just for themselves, just for partners, or for future families. Homes also tend to be connected underground, making multigenerational neighbourhoods.

Once you actually enter into a relationship with a Gorgon things rev up.

Gift giving leans away from more practical to more indulgent, as do acts of service. They also slowly become more communicative about their emotions. Its still rather laconic but they’ll say emotionally devastating shit that will rock your world outta the fucking blue.

Like shit you’ll be washing up the dishes after dinner and they’ll turn to you and say some shit like “I am descended from the divine, and even I feel myself go mad from the beauty of your smile.” And then will turn back and begin drying the fucking dishes like nothing happened.

Meanwhile your ass is standing there having had your shit rocked on a spectral level and your deciding whether to cry, kiss them or make them see stars right then and there.

ALSO! Also also also. Snakes for hair.

These guys have snakes for hair that are semi-independent. I sort of debate on them being extensions of their gorgons mind but being individual in a sort of way.

These little guys are key to their Gorgons emotions. The hair will give it away peeps.

Whilst they will stay relatively neutral before a relationship properly occurs the snakes will pay more attention to you than anyone else.

Once the relationship begins the little snakes will be all over you. Hissing and nudging and kissing your face little snakey kisses when you’re close.

And gods if you pet them?? Good luck getting your hand back babe, the snakes are keeping it, pets forever.

Also as your Gorgon gets more comfortable with initiating physical contact it will be hard for them to stop bless them. They’ll probably use the old adage of ‘but baby I’m cold blooded!!’ to eek out more cuddle time.

Also in the cold months they will stick to you like glue. It doesn’t get freezing in the Mediterranean but the poor babies are cold blooded. Any unnecessary trips outside are vetoed and they make more use of the Thermal Hot springs they usually build their towns around.

They will damn near climb into your clothes if a breeze hits them. They don’t like the cold >:(

NSFW

Iiiiiittttttss Sexy time!

Hahaha lets go.

First lets talk About the paralysing stare, because if you want they can and will use that as a part of sex.

You’ll be conscious, and you’ll be able to blink, but besides that your are paralysed baby.

Its kind of an ingrained kink in the species. Shows a deep bond of trust between a mortal mate and their gorgon. It also scratches that ‘predator’ urge in the backs of their heads.

Having you so pretty and still, letting them do whatever they want to you, letting them move and control you like a good little doll. It gets them so fucking horny.

They’ll love a bit of kinky hide and seek as well. Tracking you by the scent of your arousal in the dark, tongue licking at the air, tasting your arousal as they track you, hissing every fantasy of what they’ll do to you when they find you…

And when they do, they’ll fuck you on the spot, taking you hard and fast until you’re a gibbering mess, only then they’ll drag your limp and shivering body back to their nest.

Yeah you won’t be leaving for a while, but what bliss guys, what fucking bliss.

In bed they’re all over you, long scaly tail trapping your legs as hey take you, licking the sweat from your skin and moaning about your beauty. About your pretty pussy/cock/ass and how good you feel.

You run so much warmer than them, everything feels so hot and wet and they adore you, relishing in your warmth. They wanna stay permanently inside you/you inside them so they can keep experiencing your warmth.

They also will bite you a little bit, just a little. No they’re not venomous baby, please just let them bury their fangs into you, they promise it’ll feel so good.

Also, if you do want kids, they will make that happen. Both male and females can lay and carry eggs. The moment you say you want a baby with them they are ready to load you up with eggs, filling you so prettily and making sure you’re fully and happy.

#Gorgon x Human #Gorgon x reader #monster lover #monster fucker #monster x reader #monster x human #terat0philliac #terato

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Werewolf partner headcanons

Sfw:

*Pats werewolf* this werewolf can fit so much love in them-

But seriously, by nature werewolves are highly affectionate, especially physically.

Perhaps not initially. They will be very aware they’re poor human partner may not be used to overwhelming affection yet :(. They will be super good, they will hold themselves back looking like sad little puppies.

Please just let them and let them cuddle you they’ll be so happy :(

Like the moment you give them the green light they will be all over you. Cuddles, kisses, pets. All over you. They love you! Why wouldn’t they want to cuddle you all the time :(

There will also be a lot of scenting and licking. The licking I imagine is like kissing for them, little affectionate licks, big sloppy licks all kinds.

They want to show they love you! And it has the added benefit of removing any scent on you besides their own. You should smell like them! Not others!

Scenting is also a massive thing.

Early in a relationship they’ll hold hands and give you their jacket to make sure you carry their scent. But if it gets serious it’s all over.

Cuddling together, showering together, making sure you spend every moment covering you in their scent.

But the reverse is also true. They love your scent! They want to be covered in it! Please let them. They wanna smell like you so bad, you smell like heaven to them and they want you to smell like them.

Speaking of scent there will be some adjustments to your life style. Overly scented stuff isn’t any good for a werewolf. They will not only be severely discomforted because of their smell sensitivity but smell is a key part of how they read emotion. It a smell strongly covers your natural smell is can be very upsetting as they can’t get a proper read of emotions or health. Very upset baby.

Of course you can have scented stuff. The right level of scent can be extremely complimentary to your natural smell. But they have strong sensory needs to just be aware of that. Be kind to your werewolf lover!

Werewolves are also very active and very hungry. You’ll need to be prepared for that. They won’t make you do exercise with them but they will like romantic walks and hikes and will be high energy.

Note for my physically disabled and chronic pain bros they will be accommodating to a T. They will lend support whenever needed and help you with any physical therapy and pain management.

Pack is pack. No matter what. When they love you they do anything to make sure you are safe and accommodated for and their family will do the same.

These guys are also big blankies. Wolf and human form. Werewolves are big, big and hairy and physically affectionate. Always snuggles and nuzzles. They will lay on top of you and around you like big fuzzy weighted blankets.

They do run hot as well. Combination of their metabolism and their natural magics. Great in the winter but they do suffer in the summer and hate not being able to fully cuddle with you because you both overheat. They will do a full bellyflop into a pool of water and lay there, they will do the big shake too. But in winter? Oh goddamn, cuddles for days.

Curling by the fire after eating a feast, safe in their territory with their partner. Werewolf dream scenario.

They are also big on various acts of service. Particularly ones that involve taking care of you. Feeding you, massages, kisses and cuddles, spa days, you name it.

NSFW

Now the dirty >;3

Werewolves are high energy, so they tend to have high sec drives. They will run you ragged if given the opportunity. So if you’re gonna go all out make sure you take the next day off work, maybe the next few days.

Like wolves they have a form of Estrus. Males and females are generally fertile all the time, but lower than average. However when they hit these periods they become highly fertile. And really horny. Make sure you grab some magical birth control because that’s the only shit that’s gonna stop you getting pregnant. But don’t worry, your werewolf will also take birth control if you’re not ready for pups yet.

They run hot, so werewolf dick and pussy? Hot as fuck, temperature play at work here.

They are also Quite hairy. I imagine in werewolf culture that long hair is common, as are hairy bodies. They do groom, but you won’t find a hairless werewolf.

Lots of cum, they fucking gush, male or female. So sex is gonna be messy, they are gonna get you covered. No point trying to stay clean because not only to werewolves love seeing their lovers covered in their cum but it also links into their scenting of you and means they will be very happy.

Oral fixation baby! No matter what you got, they wanna lick it, hell they wanna lick you all over. This can lead to very much causing oversensitivity. Once they start they get drunk your equipment quickly. They will eat you out or suck you off for hours. Good luck and godspeed.

They fuck like beasts. They can and will be gentle but they need to let go as well. You may not be able to walk for a while until you get used to it. Doesn’t matter, male or female you are gonna be walking funny until you can build up endurance.

It’s a lot, they will hold themselves back at first but soon it will be a test of endurance.

Aftercare royalty. Food, baths and cuddles are holy trinity and they will ensure you are happy and comfy.

#terato #terat0philliac #monster fucker #werewolf #monster x reader #monster x human #monster lover

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I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:

Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin. 

Here is a page of medieval weapons.

Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.

Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.

Here are some gemstones.

Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on. 

Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.

Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised. 

Here is every religion in the world. 

Here is every language in the world.

Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.

Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.

Here are poisonous plants.

Here are plants in general.

Feel free to add more to this!

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GUYS FUCKING HELL. BADJHUR AND GEHWILD COLLABORATED. THEY DID A GHOST AND KÖNIG THREESOME ASMR IM LITERALLY OVULATING SO FUCKING HARD I CANNOT BRO😭😭

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Hey, PSA:

On your phone, go to Settings> Security and Privacy> Privacy> Other Privacy Settings> Ads> Delete Advertising ID

Then go back to Other Privacy Settings> Google location history> Turn off Location History &/or Turn-on Auto-Delete (you can set a time period of how long to keep it)

Then, staying on Other Privacy Settings, go to ’+ See all activity controls’> Web & App activity> Turn off (you can also turn-on Auto-Delete for here too) Then Scroll down to Personalized ads> My Ad Center> Turn Off Personalized Ads.

Google has no business knowing/storing everything you do online, and knowing/storing where you go everyday. Turn it off.

These instructions are for an Android phone, IOS might be different. If you have IOS or another operating system feel free to add on with your own map to where they’ve buried these settings in your phone to help others.

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Boring old werewolf instincts:

Sexual jealousy

Constant aggression

Rigid hierarchy

Must win sports

Homophobia And Sexism Is Normal™

Eat people

Cool new werewolf instincts:

There is no five second rule

Corvids are friends

Hang out as a pack

Karaoke

Gotta pee

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A world full of colors

Full color wheel challenge, what a fun challenge <3

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BALDUR'S GATE 3 (2023) dev. Larian Studios

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୨୧ Pudge & Cuddles ୨୧ ˚⋆✦ Miguel O’Hara x you Boyfriend Headcannons ˚⋆✦

nsfw 18+

cw: scratching, masochism, scars, body image/descriptions (stretch marks, cellulite, etc.), biting, sex (p in v), pain kink

note: Shit gets a little crazy so don’t act like I didn’t fucking warn ur asses 🤝 I’m planning on making one-shots for these because AWWJJDJE so that’ll be cumming SOON. love u my fellow pudgy simps

♡ Miguel is addicted to squeezing and holding your pudge!!! You lay on your side, Miguel spooning you. The laptop set in front of you plays a horror movie, which Miguel promised he’d stay awake through. He’s an exhausted, bratty liar so naturally he falls asleep halfway through. His arms wrap around you, one hand under your shirt, holding your pudgy, soft under belly for comfort, his hands full of your hot flesh. His grip keeps your body tightly pressed up against him. His face rests in the crook of your neck, breathing softly into your skin. He dreams, his muscles flexing, moving against you suddenly.

♡ Miguel’s nightmares cause his grasp to tighten on your pudge, claws unsheathing into your skin. You usually wake him up, but you’re a masochist, so sometimes you let him, leaving scratches around your hips and lower belly. It feels good and you love seeing evidence of him spread on you. He’ll scold you the next day when he sees them, but he secretly loves marking your soft skin as his.

♡ Miguel uses your thighs and tummy as a pillow. He loves digging his face into your belly, or thighs, anywhere where there is warmth and soft tissue. You’ll sit on the couch reading, or watching a movie, and he’ll make himself more than comfortable on you, losing himself in absolute bliss. Sometimes he’ll just lay in between your legs resting his head on your fluffy thighs, watching a movie on the tv. Other times, he’ll completely dig his face into your warmth, snoring into your soft skin. He wraps his arms around your hips, keeping himself wrapped around you, using you as his own special pillow.

♡ Miguel comforts/whines when you’re insecure. If you don’t let him dig his face into your flesh, he’ll throw a fit. He’ll kiss all along your cellulite, your stretch marks, your pudgy softness, whispering his admiration for you, “Eres tan hermosa, tan perfecta, mi suave ángel. What would I do without my soft girl keeping me warm, keeping me safe,” he’ll murmur against your skin, brushing his lips against you.

♡ Miguel will fixate on your thick thighs. He’ll adore and caress you for hours, lying in between your legs, or beside your thighs, tracing your stretch marks, leaving kisses along your scars of growth, gripping your fat in his muscular hands. He loves when the heavy hot flesh of your thighs wrap around his waist, and how your big thighs suffocate him when you sit on his face. He’ll lift you up effortlessly once you’re done, your soft figure being only craveable, comfortable pressure. He’s huge, strong, and he craves all of you, all of your weight, enveloping him, wrapping around him.

♡ He loves the way your abundant thighs and hips gate your heat, sealing your delicate flesh. He loves prying you open, your strong thighs closing habitually from pleasurable overstimulation.

♡ He marks up your thighs, biting the shit out of you, or digging his claws into you when he’s overstimulated. You have to avoid skirts for the next week or so now that your thighs are covered in bites, scratches, and bruises.

♡ He’ll reach for your skin at night, or when you’re watching tv on the couch, or when you’re cooking in the kitchen. He’ll come from behind you, slipping his hands under your top to fill his hands with the warm comfort your body provides. In public, he’s forced to control himself, not grabbing your ass or belly, or thighs, but when you two are left alone or in a dark restaurant, he’ll slip his hand under the tablecloth and grip your skin. He needs your body in his hands.

♡ Miguel presses his broad hand on your lower belly, feeling his length squeeze into you, pushing all of your insides tightly against your skin. He adds that pressure, squeezing your plush flesh, gripping you down onto him. He watches you squirm, your skin plump, body full with his wide burning, pleasurable invasion. When he reaches his climax, his claws unsheathe, digging into your stomach, leaving marks of desire spread across your belly.

♡ Miguel will tightly grip your under belly while on top of you, getting off looking down at the love bites he’s spread across your wet, sweaty skin. Your flesh beats against his, ripples of his impact visible to him. His thumbs dig into you, holding you in place, as he squeezes himself into you.

my lovely taglist ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ✧ @wingedturtledream @skaochii @bat-yo-us @lostpirate79 @renn-pumkin-head @princessa-micomicona @waiif-uwu @punpuun @thbidkbutok @acehyacinth @thetoetickler @kaqua @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @inafantasyworld10 @d1lf-loverrr @altheadq @thesilenthill @trash-king18 @imnotyourbcbe @tiffanypooh @ihateuguys @littlemissilovecoconuts @royal-jester @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @tbh2idk @gilliantate23 @envyjmoney @qiaipia @ur-fav-ginger @lacook246 @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @blair6th

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Tagged by @bambirex and @wren-of-the-woods, thank you my dears! <33

Rules: give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words

Most hits: I Will Lay Me Down

The empath!Jaskier AU that still takes up a certain part of my brain and begging to be finished. I really liked the world-building exercise at the time, but then ended up not showing most of the empathy-as-superpower setting in the fic. Although I wrote it more than two years ago by this point, and I still remember it being a lot of fun.

Mot kudos: Hug a Witcher Day

A little fic about touch-starved Geralt and him wanting to hug Jaskier. It was so self-indulgent and ended up being everything I wanted for myself. I reread it a while ago and it was still very nice! Highly recommend rereading your own writing, it's made for you, after all.

Most comments: and the wolf was nowhere to be found

The reverse truth serum fic. Jaskier is forced to lie and angst ensues. It was fun hurting my readers alskdjf :'D

Most bookmarks: A Master in Matchmaking

Matchmaker Jaskier tries to find Geralt a perfect match. He is very dumb and adorable in this one. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it and reading it. I just... love oblivious Jaskier so much, and also Geralt who is very very in love with him.

Most words: You are too well tangled in my soul

The time traveler's wife AU. It needed a flow chart! It's the longest fic I've ever written and somehow it's still not finished. The most recent chapter is left on an angsty cliffhanger so hopefully no one is mad at me.

Least words: I've written quite a few 100-wrod drabbles. My favorite is probably Wishes. I thought Menacing was cute too. Drabbles are a lot of fun to write and they are low commitment too, very nice to get yourself back into writing after a dry spell. I highly recommend it too.

Tagging: @kueble @witcher-and-his-bard @dapandapod @crushcandles @petrifiedforests and whoever wants to do it! <3

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my favorite genre of women is running from creepy castles/houses

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Reposting one of my old Witcher fics here on request, for those who can’t access my now-locked AO3 account!! 💜💜💜 thanks for the request, I love you!!!

Summary:

Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last)

Jaskier could admit that he was a bit of a slut.

In fact, he took pride in it. When Geralt had asked him once, in an exasperated growl, if he ever got tired of crawling under the skirts of every maiden he saw, Jaskier had cheerfully replied, “You know what they say, my friend: practice makes perfect!” (Jaskier had had quite a bit of practice, and not to brag, but he was a very generous and talented lover, if not quite perfect.)

What he did not say, although it certainly crossed his mind, was, “Well, if you took me into your bed, I would never seek out another.”

The thing was, Jaskier did fall a bit in love with everyone he slept with. With everyone he met, in fact, which was how he ended up sleeping with so many people in the first place. It was incredible, and a bit sad, how many people were so surprised and instantly smitten with a man who was genuinely interested in them.

Jaskier just loved people. He loved educated people with quick wits and simple people with kind hearts.

And gods, did he love the human body. Short, tall, slender, fat, stocky, willowy, curvy, muscular—Jaskier loved it all. His lovers came in every shape and size, and he worshipped each and every one of them.

Still, even a bard with too much love to give could have favorites.

Novigrad, the city that housed his alma mater, Oxenfurt University, was a hub for travelers from all over. By the time he was seventeen, he could reliably identify regional accents from across the Continent, just because he, gregarious creature that he was, spent most of his free time wandering the city and striking up conversations with the most interesting-looking stranger he saw.

Okay, fine, and convincing them to take him to bed half the time.

He liked sex, and if certain stuck-up, prudish people (VALDO) could stop giving him disdainful looks in the banquet hall, that would be swell.

Jaskier had undergone a true bardic education. He’d slept his way through swaths of travelers from distant lands, teasing stories and tales out of each of them, which he enjoyed about as much as the sex.

His favorites were the wandering warriors.

Two days after his seventeenth birthday, he was celebrating with Priscilla and their friends in a tavern when he spotted a man sitting at the bar with a crossbow over his back and a sword on his hip. He was at least a decade older than Jaskier, and he had scars on his big, rough hands, and his arms bulged with muscle under his shirt.

With very little urging from Priscilla, he’d sauntered over and batted his eyelashes flirtatiously. Half an hour later, he was in a room upstairs, flat on his back as the warrior stripped his clothes off.

Jaskier’s mouth went dry. The man was made of muscle—broad shoulders, ropey arms, a thick chest and stomach. Thighs like tree trunks.

When the man crawled on top of him, caging him in with those strong arms, Jaskier almost came right there.

That man had been the first, but not the last. Jaskier liked strong people. His eyes followed soldiers and fighters in the market and the taverns. He licked his lips at the sight of wide shoulders and hard calves.

So, it would have come as no surprise to anyone who knew him that when he saw the lean but solid figure sitting in the back of the room in that tavern in Posada, he knew he had to have him. Jaskier was a natural flirt, had been charming people out of their pants since he was a green lad. Which was why he was a bit surprised when he got a good look at that gleaming white hair, the chiseled jaw and cheekbones, the scars that spoke of truly wonderful stories, those fierce golden eyes, and could only stammer, “You wouldn’t keep a man with…bread in his pants waiting.”

He wanted to punch himself in the face. That was the worst thing that had ever come out of his mouth.

Still, Jaskier wasn’t one to cower in the face of embarrassment. And this stranger lit his blood on fire with want and gnawing, hungry curiosity. And the man was dismissive, but there was something in the tense line of his back, the startled suspicion in his eyes when Jaskier wasn’t deterred, that made the bard want to stay.

Geralt of Rivia. The Witcher. How could Jaskier do anything but follow him, especially after that punch to the gut?

It wasn’t that Jaskier enjoyed the pain—on the contrary, fucking OW and never do that again, Geralt, thank you ever so much—but he couldn’t help noticing that the blow had been a direct response to being called the Butcher of Blaviken. He clearly didn’t like the name. Was bothered by it.

That told Jaskier three things:

Witchers did have emotions. He’d always suspected it, but now he knew.

Whatever had happened in Blaviken, it wasn’t what people said. The slaughter the gossip spoke of was the work of a heartless monster.

And a heartless monster wouldn’t care, but Geralt of Rivia cared. He didn’t like being seen as a monster.

Naturally, Jaskier decided then and there that he would change Geralt’s reputation, if he had to sing in every tavern on the Continent to do it.

His intense attraction to the Witcher was…only mildly inconvenient at first.

It got worse as time went on, as he came to know, in small grunts and reluctant words, the man beneath the armor.

He couldn’t help falling in love with him.

So he definitely couldn’t help his reaction the first time he saw Geralt take his shirt off.

***

“Oh, gods,” Jaskier breathed.

Geralt paused in the act of shucking off his pants. The bard was staring at him.

Geralt blinked, frowning a bit. Jaskier looked at him all the time, and—strangely—he always seemed to enjoy what he saw.

And Geralt had gotten compliments on his physique before, from one or two of the braver whores, so if he had considered Jaskier’s reaction to his bare torso, it might have been something along those lines.

That was, emphatically, not what was happening.

Geralt looked down at his chest. Did he have some kind of wound he hadn’t noticed?

No, he looked the same as always.

So why was Jaskier gaping at him with horror on his face?

The bard stepped closer, lifting his hand toward Geralt’s chest. “Geralt, what the fuck,” he said.

Geralt looked down at himself again. Jaskier’s fingers touched his stomach gently, running along the line of his abdominal muscles. He couldn’t help the way his muscles jumped in response to that light but blazing touch. Jaskier’s hands were like fire on his skin.

It had to be the scars. His body was littered with them: big, small, clean, ragged. Jaskier had never seemed to mind the marks on him before, but then, he’d never seen the canvas of his entire torso before. It would hardly be the first time someone had recoiled from his patchwork skin.

Geralt turned his head away, his stomach churning. He refused to call it disappointment. Jaskier had never been afraid of him, had never shown the slightest hint that he found Geralt’s more inhuman traits off-putting. Everyone has their limit, he told himself.

Without a word, he waded into the river, submerging himself to the neck.

He tried not to dwell on that brief touch, on any of the casual touches that Jaskier had lavished on him without even seeming to realize that no one touched Witchers. Most people were too afraid to come within six feet of him, much less drape a casual elbow over his shoulder or nudge him lightly in the side to share a joke. But that was over now. Jaskier knew what hid beneath the armor, and he hated it.

He bathed quickly and pulled his shirt back on without bothering to dry off. Without waiting to make sure Jaskier followed, he stalked back to their campsite.

He very deliberately ignored the looks Jaskier sometimes gave him after that, not his usual carefree smiles, but small frowns that pinched his lips and put a wrinkle between his brows.

Oddly, the bard didn’t stop touching him.

Geralt ignored that too, unsure what to make of it.

The next time they stopped in a town for the night, Jaskier went to buy them food and a room while Geralt found them a table. It was their usual arrangement, since Jaskier was less likely to frighten or disgust the innkeeper.

The bard returned to the table with two plates groaning under the weight of hearty, homecooked food.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at the amount of it. They usually stuck to a typical bowl of stew and yeast roll each. “Hungry?” he asked.

Jaskier just pushed one of the plates over to him and said, “Eat up!”

Still eyeing his bard suspiciously, Geralt did.

Jaskier talked as he ate, as usual, chattering so incessantly that Geralt didn’t realize the bard had eaten only half of his own serving and pushed the rest toward Geralt until he was looking down at a second empty plate.

His stomach felt a little heavy, but it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.

***

It kept happening.

Jaskier kept buying them large dinners whenever they were in town, and kept foisting his leftovers on Geralt when he inevitably couldn’t finish what he’d ordered. Geralt…didn’t mind, exactly—this much hot food was a luxury—but he couldn’t help being a little irritated that Jaskier kept ordering more than he could eat. The stupid bard was wasting good coin on food he didn’t finish, seeming unbothered that his money always ended up in Geralt’s stomach instead.

And he’d bought a bigger travel bag at some point without Geralt even noticing. His old bag had been just large enough for a change of clothes and his notebook.

Now, he pulled smoke-dried meats and fruits from his pockets as they walked down the road, pushing them into Geralt’s hands before nibbling on a slice of jerky himself.

With all the snacking he was doing, it made even less sense when he turned around and bought a big dinner. Surely he knew he couldn’t eat all that.

What was more, he’d offered to help Geralt hunt several times in the last few months. When Geralt had refused, incredulous, Jaskier had then demanded he bring back more than one rabbit.

As if the bard could even eat more than the half he typically got!

It was, in a word, baffling.

This had been going on for three months, and Geralt still didn’t have a clue what was going on, but his stomach had started making grumbling noises if they ate later than usual.

***

Jaskier watched with deep satisfaction as Geralt swallowed the last of what had been Jaskier’s slice of ham.

He’d had to be a little sneaky about it. He knew Geralt had noticed something was up, but he hadn’t called him out on it yet, and for that, Jaskier was grateful.

Sure, it meant longer nights playing for the crowds, but it was worth it to be able to fill his wolf’s belly, even if the wolf in question had no idea he was doing it.

Jaskier had dreamed of what Geralt would look like naked for months before he actually saw it. He’d been with plenty of fighters, so he was intimately familiar with the landscape carved by muscle and strength.

One of his lovers, Aleksy, had been a Novigrad guardsman. They’d dallied together several times, been friends as well as lovers.

Once, Aleksy had been sent out to battle a monster with a cohort of his fellow guards. They hadn’t returned.

A second party had been sent after them. The beast had been slain, but Aleksy had been the only survivor of the original hunting party, and he’d been badly wounded.

Jaskier had gone to him after he’d been brought back and bandaged up.

His friend had been lying in a cot, shirtless, his shoulder and the stump of his arm wrapped in linen, and he’d looked so different.

Not for losing an arm, nor for the shallow wounds across his face.

No, his body, so familiar to Jaskier’s eyes and hands, had been ravaged.

He’d lain out in the woods, a tourniquet on his arm, unable to move for a broken leg, for nearly five days, with no food and only a single waterskin to keep him alive.

Instead of the thickness Jaskier knew, he was all muscle and bone. Even when he was lying there, not flexing to show off as he’d sometimes done, Jaskier could see the outlines of his muscles, marching in tight lines down his stomach.

“That’s what starvation and dehydration do to strong man,” the healer had told him. “He’ll bulk up again once he can eat and drink the right amount for his size.”

And Geralt, his Witcher, his beloved wolf, had looked exactly as Aleksy had looked when he was half-dead for want of nourishment. His muscles had stood out against his skin, each one clearly visible to Jaskier’s horrified gaze.

Geralt, apparently, was used to it, because he seemed confused by Jaskier’s reaction.

Never again, Jaskier vowed to himself, his fingers on Geralt’s abs. He is never going hungry again.

So Jaskier had begun a campaign of food.

Geralt would be suspicious if he ordered seconds, so he just ordered a lot of food to start with and pushed whatever he couldn’t finish to his friend.

He stuffed his pack with anything that would keep and doled it out as they traveled.

And he thought it was working. He couldn’t be sure—Geralt had been quite careful not to take his shirt off in front of Jaskier since that incident by the river—but when he peered at the Witcher, he thought it was working.

Now, to find out for sure.

Jaskier gave a final strum on his lute and bowed deeply to his audience. “Thank you, thank you!” he called as they applauded and tossed coins at his feet. He gathered his bounty and headed toward the bar, where the innkeeper greeted him with a questioning face and a grunt. Geralt would like this one, Jaskier thought fondly.

“Can I get a hot bath up in my room, please?” Jaskier asked, sliding over some of his freshly-earned coin.

The innkeeper gave a short nod.

Jaskier bought two pints of ale and made his way to Geralt’s table.

They drank in companionable silence, Jaskier resting his throat, until the innkeeper caught his eye and nodded again.

Jaskier drained the last of the ale. “Shall we?” he asked. Geralt followed him silently.

Brimming with excitement, he pushed the door to their room open and cried, “Ta-da!” with an exaggerated gesture toward the bathtub.

Geralt gave him a confused look, so Jaskier pushed him toward the tub. “You have had bits of kikimora in your hair for three days, Geralt,” he said. “You could use a bath.”

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted, but it seemed an appreciative kind of grunt.

Jaskier helped him unbuckle his armor, and then watched with badly-disguised anticipation as Geralt finally drew off his shirt.

He couldn’t help beaming.

***

Okay, now Geralt was really confused.

It wasn’t like he could turn down the offer of a bath. Jaskier was right, he was a bit disgusting, and anyway, he loved hot baths. He’d peeled off his clothes, trying hard not to notice his stomach dropping to his boots, the little voice in his head reminding him that Jaskier hates your body, hates your scars, he’s disgusted by you.

Jaskier had let out another stifled gasp, and Geralt’s eyes had jumped to him against his will.

Then he’d blinked.

The bard was beaming, grinning from ear to ear as he stared at Geralt’s chest.

Once again, Geralt found himself looking down at his own body in sheer bewilderment. Had his scars disappeared overnight?

No, but something was indeed different. He blinked again.

Without meaning to, he lifted a hand and patted his stomach.

“What the fuck,” he said flatly.

His chest and stomach were thicker, his muscles covered in a layer of fat.

Jaskier stepped closer, putting a hand on his chest. “You look so much better,” he breathed, sounding fucking delighted.

“You did this on purpose.” It was not a question, but it also was, because what the fuck.

Jaskier smiled, almost bashfully. “Yes. Does this mean I can stop pretending like I’m forgetful about food?”

“Jaskier, what. The. Fuck.” Geralt was practically growling, and finally Jaskier seemed to notice.

His grin faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Geralt echoed, disbelieving. He gestured at his torso. “You—you—you made me—fat!”

Jaskier’s face did something complicated and painful before settling into an expression of acute sadness. “No, I didn’t,” he said softly.

“Fucking—look at me!” Geralt snarled.

Jaskier closed his eyes for a moment, as if he were in pain, and Geralt really did not understand anything anymore. Gently, Jaskier reached up and took Geralt’s face in his hands, making the Witcher meet his eyes. Geralt was too startled to resist.

“I did not make you fat, Geralt. I made you healthy,” he said quietly but firmly.

“I—what?”

“Melitele’s tits, love, what do they teach you at Kaer Morhen?” Jaskier muttered, sounding close to growling himself. His thumbs stroked across Geralt’s cheeks gently, and that was probably why Geralt couldn’t move. He wanted to press himself, his face, his throat, his chest, his hands, into that warm touch that smelled of sunshine on grass and wood oil. It could also have been the fact that Jaskier had just called him ‘love’, and Geralt’s brain had kind of collapsed.

Slowly, carefully, Jaskier explained. It took Geralt long moments to process what the bard was actually saying.

“…dehydrated, and half-starved. I couldn’t stand it for a second more, you understand that, right?”

Geralt understood, sort of. He would certainly not react well if he found he could see Jaskier’s ribs, which seemed to be the same sort of problem.

“…I ate the same amount as you,” he said gruffly.

Jaskier huffed a small laugh. “I know,” he agreed. “But you’re a Witcher. You have a higher metabolism than a human, right? Several times higher, even.”

“Mmm.” Geralt nodded. “That’s part of why I heal so fast, why the potions don’t kill me.”

“It also means your body breaks down food a lot faster, darling,” Jaskier explained gently. “You need to eat more than a human to maintain yourself. And let me tell you, if I ever get my hands on the son of a bitch who didn’t bother explaining this to you in Witcher training, it won’t matter than I’m a lowly human, I will rip his balls off and shove them down his throat.”

Geralt choked out a startled laugh. Jaskier smiled at him, tugging him forward gently until their foreheads press together.

“Tell me,” the bard said, “did you ever feel bad after eating, when we got you more food? Did your stomach hurt, or did you feel bloated or nauseous?”

Slowly, Geralt shook his head. “My stomach was…”

He trailed off, uncertain, and Jaskier looked like his heart was about to break. “Full?” he suggested.

Geralt breathed out sharply. “Yes.”

“That’s how you should feel after every meal,” Jaskier told him sternly. “And have you felt slower or weaker in your fights?”

Geralt shook his head mutely. Quite the opposite, in fact. He no longer wanted to collapse into his bedroll the moment a fight ended; he felt stronger and more energized than he ever had before.

“Jaskier…” Geralt had no idea how to say what he wanted to say, but Jaskier was looking at him, waiting patiently, so he cleared his throat. “Why would you…?”

“Well, I don’t like seeing anyone starving,” he said, with a smile that looked rather forced. “But there’s also the fact that I love you, and it broke my heart a little to see you hurting yourself.”

Geralt’s brain didn’t just collapse this time. It vanished in a puff of golden, grass-scented smoke. “What.”

Jaskier laughed again, a jagged sound. “I don’t expect you to feel the same,” he said in a hurry. “But you did ask, and I just—I do. I love you. I have since the day we met.”

Witchers didn’t have feelings, according to common rumor.

But warmth was blazing through Geralt, warmth and hope and terror and a thousand other things, and so he did the only thing he could do.

He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist and kissed him, hard.

***

Jaskier stiffened in surprise and then let out a moan, tangling his hands in Geralt’s hair, kikimora guts and all.

After a long moment, Jaskier broke away, panting for air, and began pressing feather-light kisses across Geralt’s face instead.

“Whores said they liked how I looked,” Geralt said abruptly, and Jaskier pulled back enough to see a hint of insecurity in that usually-stoic face.

He slid his hands down, over Geralt’s thick pecs and then to his stomach, which was still hard under a layer of protective fat. He caressed his Witcher, taking just a bit of pride in the fact that he was able to provide so well for his love.

“Whores don’t know what’s healthy and what isn’t for a man like you,” Jaskier told him. He ducked his head to kiss Geralt’s chest. “You are always beautiful, darling, but I prefer you not starving. And if it means you have more energy in your battles, that means less chance of you getting injured or killed. Which I would vastly prefer, since, as we've established, I hate seeing you hurting.”

Geralt swallowed hard, like he had no idea how to respond to that.

Jaskier smiled faintly, and pressed his hands against Geralt’s chest, pushing him back.

“There’s still a bath waiting for you, love,” he said in a low voice. “And I would like to bathe you.”

Geralt blinked. “Hmm,” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

“Yes,” Jaskier answered anyway, stroking his hands over every part of Geralt he could reach. “I want to touch every inch of you, with my hands and then my mouth, and I want to tell you how gorgeous you are, darling, and how much I love you, and I want you to fall apart for me. Okay?”

“…Mmm.”

Geralt looked dazed, his cheeks actually flushed a light pink. Jaskier couldn’t resist leaning in and kissing that wash of color.

“Good.”