Read This If You Like Sea Shanties!

"Oh, Geralt, I think it's broken!" Jaskier wailed from where he was sat in the mud.

Scowling, Geralt bent to inspect the ankle in question, the one Jaskier had turned when he slipped on the wet ground. He poked at it and Jaskier moaned.

He rolled his eyes. "It's not broken," he said gruffly. "Just twisted. You'll have to keep your weight off it."

Jaskier's face scrunched up in distress. "Then whatever am I to do?" He waved his arms in the air with great dramatic intent. "For I am all alone in the wilderness, miles from civilization, and now incapable of walking." He wound himself up into a full performance. "The wolves will come for me and I shall surely die here!"

Geralt suppressed a smile. "I'm sure we can figure something out."

He pondered Jaskier with mock contemplation while Jaskier gave him soft, pleading eyes. He threw in a little lip tremble for full effect.

"Fine," he grunted eventually. "If we must." He scooped Jaskier up into his arms in a bridal carry and lifted him into the air.

Jaskier squealed with delight and threw his arms around Geralt's neck. "My hero," he declared, dropping a kiss onto his cheek.

The bard really was an idiot. He tucked him into his chest and fought back a blush.

Me: *hasnt finished my WIP*

Also me: *already planning a sequel*

excerpt ; the daughter of denmark ; chapter ?

“I am here because you are dying. I am here because of your fate.”

“But you said — before, you said if I die. Now you say it is my fate to die?”

The fylgja laughed. It sounded like the ringing of church bells on an early morning. It filled Hamlet with simultaneous joy and apprehension. She did not know why the creature laughed. She did not know what God would ask of her. She knew nothing.

“It is everyone’s fate to die, child. Even the gods, one day, will curl themselves into a grave. But there is a difference between how one ends and how they got there.” The fylgja extended her palms to either side of her, like the statues of the dead in the tombs of Roskilde. One hand held its sword, the other was palm up, empty. “Your fate is both at once. You will die as all men do, but will it be now?”

[image: “La Forêt en Hiver au Coucher de Soleil”, Théodore Rousseau]

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Fishtail Hat

Free

https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/fishtail-hat

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