#this post is not insinuating you should even pick up wildlife

[thehappyvet]

Where do people get this misconception that every single wildlife case at a vet clinic is euthanased so it's better to not take them in even if they're obviously hurt or sick and in need of treatment?!?!

Friendly reminder that a member of the public should not be able to easily pick up or catch a wild animal. We are not in a disney movie. If you can pick it up*, 80% of the time its extremely hurt or sick.

Wildlife, and most animals for that matter, do not show pain as humans do. That does not mean they are not in pain and suffering.

Veterinarians only euthanase wild animals that are suffering from extreme injury or illness, or animals that would stress themselves to death in a hospital setting that cannot be released and survive in the wild with their issue.

We do euthanase some animals, but that's because it's the best welfare decision for that animal and its specific problem.

Maybe trust the professionals trained in providing treatment to animals instead of some Karen on Facebook who demonises vets because she can't understand a bird with multiple wing and shoulder fractures is very unlikely to regain flight and return to the wild and her plan of keeping it means it will live a life of chronic pain and suffering.

*Disclaimer: If you live in a country where diseases such as rabies are endemic, you should not handle wildlife at all if you are not trained or vaccinated. This post is not recommending members of the public handle wildlife in any country.

[itsclydebitches]

You asked for prompts, so how about jaskier/geralt unexpected skill (can he slash or gen)

Drabble #2! (I’m so sorry these are taking forever 💜) 

A Cut Above the Rest

Pairing: Jaskier/Geralt

Warnings: None  

Word Count: 1,371

"So there I was: pants down around my ankles, half-blinded by ink, my precious lute the only thing standing between me and a certain death via cuckolding. Well, I don't need to tell you that death was the preferable option. To destroy one's instrument is tantamount to destroying one's soul and the day I use my darling as a second-rate bludgeoning weapon is the day you need to cart me off to the hospital, Geralt. In fact, that would be a damn useful form of identification, wouldn't it? Okay, should we ever be in a position where a doppler is attempting to swindle you with my perfect visage, you need only imply that a single pass is sufficient for tuning and if I don't immediately chastise you then you'll know—”

"You don't need to do that." 

Jaskier paused in the act of pushing his bangs out of his face. A second later he scoffed. "Geralt, if you really think that after everything we've been through there isn't at least a chance of that happening...." 

"I mean your hair." 

It was far from their first misunderstanding. Jaskier's thoughts tended to meander, backtrack, tangle together until you were navigating a maze rather than a conversation. Geralt knew he was unlikely to hear how Jaskier had escaped one of his more violent persurers, nor would they likely finish developing a contingency plan for rogue dopplers. That was what had first drawn him to Jaskier. Not his beauty or even his talent for music—a witcher didn't care for such things. Rather, it was his ability to change and abandon topics at the drop of a coin, yet never hesitated to pick another back up again. Jaskier wanted to talk to him. 

Geralt could count on one hand the number of people who could say the same.

He smiled, a tiny quirk of the lips across the fire, hidden by shadows. Jaskier was now engrossed in examining the rat's nest that had taken up residence on the top of his head. The sides were so long that when he pulled them front they hung past his nose. "Geralt Roger Eric—"

"Don't." 

"—du Haute-Bellegarde—" 

"I regret telling you that." 

"Are you trying to insinuate that there's something wrong with my luxurious locks?" 

Geralt snorted. "Not insinuating, telling, because there's nothing luxurious about them right now. Neither of us have had a real bath in weeks. You haven't had a cut in months. It's a fucking mess." He enjoyed the comically gaping mouth for a moment. "Unless you're planning to grow it out?" He fingered his own white hair, now down past his shoulders. 

Jaskier seemed to consider it. "I could braid it..." 

"You won't." 

"I might!" 

"You just want to braid mine." 

Instantly Jaskier had cleared a foot between them, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. He went so far as to pout. "Can I?" 

"No." 

There was much grumbling as Geralt stood, placing hands on the small of his back to hear the popping there. He snatched up their shared satchel and dug to the bottom, past extra shirts and dried fruit to reach the pouch he'd stashed away. It was easy to miss and by Jaskier's expression he'd never stumbled across it before. 

"I can cut yours though," Geralt said, drawing the string to reveal three scissors, a comb, and a bottle of oil. "If you want."  

"You can cut hair?" 

Everything was divided into pre and post in Geralt's mind. Pre-meeting Jaskier. Post first kiss. Pre-that winter night together. Post the scar on his left thigh, taking an arrow so Jaskier wouldn't have to. There was a time—far back in the pre-version of his world—when those words would have caused him to shrink back, fleeing from perceived rejection. Of course Jaskier didn't want Geralt to touch him. Of course he wasn't good for cutting with anything other than a blade. Now though, happily drifting in the post of it all, Geralt just raised an eyebrow. 

"I can do a lot of things you don't know about." 

"So you keep insisting. Funny how you have trouble proving it." 

Lair. He'd proven a great deal just an hour before, Jaskier splayed out on their bedroll, making enough ruckus to scare off the wildlife. His look sent Jaskier chuckling as Geralt retrieved what was left of their water. 

A worthy sacrifice and if it meant Geralt had to hike back to the stream before morning, so be it. He let the container warm by the fire for a moment, stretching his hands. Summer was just around the corner and in truth they didn't need the fire at all, but the extra heat had encouraged them both to keep their shirts off and it wasn't as if Geralt was about to complain about that. 

Water warm, Jaskier dipped his head as Geralt poured the skein directly over his head. The spluttering was music to his ears. 

"You're supposed to wet it gently!" 

"Oh? You're an expert?" 

"More than you it seems if you can't even get me properly wet... wait. Bad phrasing. Or good phrasing. Not sure you deserve a round two though—ow!" 

Geralt sat and pulled Jaskier against him, just leaving enough room to begin combing through the strands. "You're a child. Even Lambert didn't fuss this much." 

"Lambert?" 

"Asshole. Prick. Once used a shirt of yours to wipe his ass." 

A string of curses sounded through the night air. Geralt simply hummed and continued untangling a particularly troublesome knot. 

"I know who Lambert is, thank you," Jaskier said. "I'm just trying to picture a scenario where you, Lambert, and a pair of scissors doesn't end in a bloodbath." 

A fair enough assumption. "Probably would be like that if we hadn't been doing this since we were kids." Geralt splayed a hand against Jaskier's neck, encouraging him to dip his head forward again. The light was long gone and the fire now dying, but Geralt didn't need either to see. He chose the smallest pair of scissors and set to work. "There used to be a lot more of us... before the attack, the trials. Vesemir said he didn't have time to deal with us all so everyone learned to cut hair and you got three choices after that: wear it long, cut it yourself, or get a brother to do it for you. We realized after leaving Kaer Morhen that a decent cut went over better with employers, so we'd practice each winter. Got pretty damn good at it too." 

Jaskier cast a knowing look over his shoulder. "And goes over better in the brothels?" 

"Hold still." 

"My dear Geralt, is that a lack of denial I hear?" 

He tugged sharply on a clump of wet hair, soaking up the laugh it produced. 

Geralt worked steadily, but with an appreciation that drew a simple trim out into an indulgence for the both of them. Once Jaskier had accused Geralt of petting him like he did Roach which was... not an entirely inaccurate comparison. Luckily, both seemed to enjoy it. It was easy enough to shorten his hair so it was no longer getting in his eyes, much harder though to cease playing with it. 

Still, there were other ways to spend one's night. 

"There." 

"All done?" 

"Mmhm." 

Jaskier ran a hand through his hair, encouraging the strands to curl. Geralt took advantage of his distraction and lay his chin on Jaskier's shoulder, pressing a kiss beneath his chin. 

"Do you like it?" he asked, tasting smoke against skin. 

"How should I know? It's not like I carry a mirror with me." 

He could have easily made some crack about Jaskier's vanity, but the night was warm and his tolerance inexplicably high. Besides, anything Jaskier might have had to say about his own beauty was true enough. The moonlight confirmed it and though a normal witcher might not care for such things... Geralt had never been a normal witcher. 

"Then I guess you'll just have to trust me." 

Jaskier might have whispered a "Very well," but if he did it was lost between them, Geralt's lips on his and one hand twined in his hair. 

[ellaoftarth]

Ch. 1; the anatomy of an introduction

here’s the first chapter of the science-centric Modern AU Braime. I’m not sure what to call it and whether or not to post it on either fanfiction.net or ao3. Let me know if it’s worth continuing?

Brienne walked into the lab, her earbuds already in, wanting to get some work done before her new coworker arrived. When Dr. Baratheon, the head of the Microbiology Department, had first mentioned the new project to Brienne, she was weary. Not because of the person she would be working with, she hadn’t known of him at that point, but because someone else would be intruding in her lab space, her space.

Earlier in the week, she had emailed her new coworker, Jaime Lannister. He was an animal behaviorist and pathologist who worked in another department. She read back over the email exchange at the computer once more, confirming the time he was supposed to be arriving this morning:

Dr. Lannister,

My name is Dr. Brienne Tarth, and I wanted to connect with you before we began our project together this coming Thursday. Dr. Baratheon said that you have been having issues with the death rates of brown bears on the wildlife reserve and wanted to consult the microbiology department to determine if there is a molecular cause. If you can, please bring a sample with you from one of the bear’s digestive tracts; I’d like to see if this is perhaps diet related. Dr. Baratheon mentioned that you have been doing autopsies for the last few months. I’d be very interested in reading those over as well, if you wouldn’t mind bringing them along. I look forward to meeting you on Thursday, the 7th at 9 am.

Best,

Dr. Brienne Tarth

Microbiologist at the Westeros Institute.

To her dismay, the reply she received was outrageously informal and unhelpful;

Sounds good, will do.  

-Jaime

Brienne rolled her eyes, uneasy with anticipation at meeting Dr. Lannister. To keep busy, she set to cleaning her workspace. Her lab was neat, as she always kept it, though there were always things that needed done; dishes to be washed and autoclaved, samples to be checked. Putting on a new playlist, she set about to cleaning the empty erlenmeyer flasks in the sink.

Once they were on the drying rack, she decided to make a basic media, in the case that Dr. Lannister brought the samples she asked him to and they were able to culture them. While she prepared it, she hummed along to the music. Between that and making the media, she was so  focused that she hadn’t realized someone else was in the room until she felt the tap on her shoulder.

Brienne instantly removed her earbuds and turned around to see a man laughing lightly at her. She couldn’t help but note how attractive his smile was, though she disdained him for catching her off guard.

“May I help you?” She asked. It was only 8:30 and she hoped that this didn’t turn out to be Dr. Lannister.

“Can you find your supervisor? I’m supposed to be meeting Brienne Tarth here.” He looked at the pile of petri dishes in front of her and smirked, “she keeps her lab assistants pretty busy, huh?”

Before Brienne could even answer, Dr. Baratheon walked into the lab.

“Ah, Jaime! I thought I saw you walk by. I see you two are getting to know each other.” He said, smiling warmly.

Jaime’s eyes widened and it was Brienne’s turn to smirk at him. “My apologies, Brienne,” Jaime started, having the decency to look slightly embarrassed, though laughter still remained in his eyes, “I didn’t realize that that was you. Usually my lab assistants are the ones cleaning the lab and getting it prepped for experiments.”

“How kind of them,” Brienne said flatly. She turned away from Lannister, “Dr. Baratheon, will you be joining us this morning?”

“No,” he said, looking between the two as if sensing the hostility between them, “I just wanted to make sure you were introduced.” He cleared his throat in the awkward silence that answered, “I guess I’ll leave you to it.”

As he walked out, Jaime asked curiously, “You call him Dr. Baratheon?”

“Yes, why does that matter?” Brienne was already growing irritated.

“Just, if you are in fact a doctor, then you are colleagues, are you not? Why don’t you call him Renly?”

“If I am a doctor? Just what are you implying?” Brienne asked harshly.

Jaime could tell he was getting under her skin and Brienne could tell he was enjoying it. He leaned on the desk between them. She could see the missing button on the collar of his shirt that peaked out from under his sweater.

Jaime shrugged, “You just seem a bit young. That’s why I thought you were a lab assistant.”

Brienne didn’t care to explain herself to him, but she was insulted. “This may be my first year here as a doctor of microbiology but I assure you I am fully qualified. As qualified as you are in your specialty, Dr. Lannister.” She continued, “And I’ll have you know that I address Dr. Baratheon as such because he was my mentor here before I earned my degree and I prefer to continue to address him with the respect he deserves.”

Jaime was quiet for a moment, nodding. But the smirk broke out on his face again, “And you address me as Dr. Lannister. Should I be grateful that you think I deserve such a respect?”

Brienne’s eyes narrowed, “It’s more that I’d rather keep things professional between us, Dr. Lannister. I don’t see us becoming acquaintances in the near future.” Brienne walked around the lab table to discard the gloves she was still wearing, but Jaime stepped in front of her, stopping her mere inches in front of him.

“What a shame, because I thought we were getting along so well,” Jaime’s voice was thick with sarcasm. But it wasn’t malicious. In fact, it seemed to break the tension that had been building between them. Jaime laughed, lightly this time, and stepped aside so that Brienne could get through.

She sighed in relief. As she threw away her gloves and replaced them with new ones, she took a moment to compose herself. Then, she turned around and met Jaime’s eyes. “Alright, would you like to tell me what we’re working with?”

Jaime pulled the backpack off of his back and took out the small, tightly sealed box from an ice bag. “Here are the samples you requested. It seems that whatever disease or pathogen the bear came into contact with spread quite quickly; it was healthy one day and dead the next. There doesn’t seem to be anything suspicious from the autopsy. I can’t find any preliminary cause, but it has to be something external; bears don’t just drop dead. I don’t think you’ll find anything, though, since no one else has been able to. I didn’t really want to waste your time or mine, but, you know, protocol.”

“I do appreciate the insinuation that I’ll be a complete waste of time,” Brienne countered bitterly, inspecting the samples, “But, perhaps let me do my job before making such judgements?”

Jaime put his hands up, as if to show his concession to let her work.

“Thank you,” she said tersely, and began to spread the samples out onto the plates she had prepared. She explained to him, “I’m just going to grow these overnight. Hopefully we’ll see some growth of the microflora from the bear’s gut and we’ll be able to sequence the microbiome from there to determine if there is anything suspicious.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jaime said, unenthused.

“You sound so concerned. Don’t animal behaviorists usually care about the animals they’re studying?”

“Usually,” Jaime agreed. “I didn’t really want this project, to be honest. My specialty is mountain lions, but because this issue is becoming more pronounced, they reassigned me for the time being.”

“I see,” Brienne said. “Well, at least we both don’t want to be here.” At his laugh, her lips twitched upwards in a smile.

While she plated the samples, Jaime watched her hands. While they were rather large and strong, they moved with such fluidity, streaking the plates, spreading the sample. When he noticed himself staring, he shook his head, and forced himself to make small talk. “So, how long has Renly been your mentor?”

“About 4 years, though I’ve known him since I got my Bachelor’s degree. I began working here, as a lab assistant, mind you,” he could almost hear her roll her eyes, “and he went out of his way to teach me as much as he could. No one saw potential in me the way he did. When I started working towards my PhD, he continued formally as my mentor.”

“You sound quite fond of him,” Jaime remarked, “Perhaps respect isn’t the only reason you call him Dr. Baratheon; perhaps you need the reminder, to bury any… improper feelings?”

Brienne’s voice was cutting, “Oh, yes, you’ve figured me out, haven’t you! I can’t bear to see Dr. Baratheon happy with his husband instead of me and I just-“ Brienne turned around to see Jaime quietly laughing. He was only joking, just riling her up again.

“You really are quite easy to read and provoke, you know? Almost easier to pick apart than that bear was.”

“Lovely of you to compare me to the bear you just dissected,” Brienne snapped back. She couldn’t decide if he was intending to be irritating or playful with his banter. She didn’t necessarily want to find out.

She plated the last sample and looked at Jaime, “Well, that’s that. I don’t suppose you have any interest in me looking over anything else?” She looked at hime, expecting him to be eager to leave her and her department.

“Here,” he said, handing over a binder. “It’s my report so far, as well as other similar cases in the past month. Look it over and let me know if you have any input. While I don’t exactly understand why you would choose to look at this from a perspective you can’t even see with the naked eye, I suppose there’s a reason a microbiological analysis is part of the protocol. Let me know if you have any input?”

Brienne nodded, surprised. “If you’d like to come back tomorrow and look over the cultures with me, we can maybe determine if there’s anything worth sequencing.”

“Sure,” Jaime grinned, “I’ll be back tomorrow, then, Brienne,” he emphasized her first name, as he turned to leave.

She smirked, “See you around, lion boy,” she laughed as he did a double take, looking shocked. “Informal enough for you?” While she was loathe to admit it, she could imagine that working with Jaime Lannister could be quite fun. Well, irritating, but fun.