#That Writing thing I do

[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober No. 8 EVERYTHING HURTS AND I’M DYING Geralt and Jaskier

Stomach Pain | Head Trauma | Back from the Dead

He didn’t recognize the place but he recognized the smell. Herbs and ozone; Triss. And the palest remnants of fancy oils that were failing to hide misery and fear– Jaskier, but not as Geralt was accustomed to smelling him. 

He frowned and furrowed his brow, not yet opening his eyes. 

Jaskier was the stronger smell, which made no sense. They were obviously in Triss’s space, and she had obviously been healing him. Even without moving he could tell how much he now smelled like her. 

And yet Jaskier was overwhelming that. 

Odd that that was the first thing Geralt noticed, he realized, as the rest of his senses caught up with him, and he felt in cascading waves– the pain of his injury, the exhaustion of his limbs, the soreness of his back and his calves, the pounding in his head, and the nausea and rawness of his throat that spoke of a violent sickness he didn’t remember.

He felt next a cool hand on his brow, and only then did he realize that Jaskier was so close. He flinched, but forced himself to settle, as the cool touch helped to ease the pounding in his temples. 

Geralt sighed and willed himself to melt back down into the bed, allowing himself the comfort and the chance to rest further. 

“There you go.” He heard Jaskier murmur. “I’ll get you a wet cloth. You’re still very warm. But you’ll be alright. You have to.” 

He sounded wrecked, and as he stood and walked away, Geralt could hear the unsteadiness in his gait. 

He sounded exhausted… or maybe hurt. Had something happened to him, while Geralt had been unconscious? 

He felt a wave of guilt induced nausea, and his headache sharpened into something more– something that felt like a spike being driven into his skull from a spot behind his eye. 

There was no world in which he would admit that the sound which emerged from him was a whimper, and yet it was fairly undeniable. 

Jaskier returned near instantly, the cloth still dripping. He squeezed it out right on the floor, like some sort of animal, but then Geralt stopped being offended for Triss’s sake, because the cool cloth made contact with his forehead. It didn’t stop the pain, didn’t solve it, but it felt wonderful, and the bit that went over his eyes blocked out even the dim light that filtered in through his eyelids. 

He tried to remember as much as he could, letting himself drift in and out of awareness for a bit, until the cloth began to grow warm, and then he reached up to flip it over. 

“Geralt?” 

He almost flinched at the hope in Jaskier’s face, and realized too late that he couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore. 

“My head is killing me.” 

He was reminded that his mouth tasted horribly and everything from lips to stomach was dry. But he also wasn’t sure he would be able to keep water down if he drank it. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll go get Triss, see if she has anything for it.” 

Blindly, Geralt reached out and grabbed Jaskier by the arm. 

“What time is it?” He asked. 

“Doesn’t matter. She said to wake her if anything changed.” 

“Let her sleep.” Geralt decided, and removed the cloth to look blearily up at Jaskier. 

He looked as bad as he sounded, if not worse, and Geralt immediately spotted the crude wrap around his neck and the bit of blood that had soaked through it. 

“You’re bleeding.” He observed, dry and unimpressed at the effort put into him, while both Jaskier and Triss had ignored the much more vulnerable human. 

“It’s nothing. You saved me before he could do anything– it’s just a scratch.” Jaskier had reached up and was fiddling with the wrap, and Geralt shook his head, then winced as his vision swam and his stomach lurched in time. 

“D’I hit my head on something?” Geralt could have slapped himself at the look the question caused on Jaskier’s face. 

“You uh, getting off of Roach, I couldn’t get a good grip on you through all the sweat, and you started flailing, and…. Long story short, yeah, you fell on your head.” 

Jaskier took Geralt’s hand and led it up to a space just above his left ear, where he could feel a sizeable goose egg had formed. 

“Did I… die, at any point in all this?” He asked, morbidly curious. 

He wondered if he would be able to feel it, if Triss had had to bring him back. “Not that I know of, and I’ve been trying to make sure that stayed a solid no. You came close, though. Triss said the poison had stayed into your system too long, and you had too little blood. It was… it was bad. And if you need to keep sleeping, if you can, you should.”

Geralt grumbled, but didn’t try to sit up any further. 

“Everything hurts too much to sleep.” Geralt muttered, and Jaskier frowned, his obvious care and sympathy warring with the urge to coddle Geralt. 

“Well, you can either try, or I can get Triss. Your choice.” The coddling won.

Geralt hesitated, but he decided he felt poorly enough, and he was safe enough, he could ask for a little comfort. 

“Will you sing for me? Softly?” 

Jaskier looked stunned, and didn’t speak for a long several seconds, his eyes darting back and forth across Geralt’s face. 

“Are you sure you don’t have some sort of brain injury? You hate my singing.” 

“Anything’s better than hearing my own heart right now.” Geralt lied. 

That seemed, oddly, to mollify Jaskier, and he sat back down on the stool beside Geralt’s bed and began to hum, then murmur a lullaby. 

One song after another, he sang until Geralt couldn’t keep his eyes open, and drifted back into the darkness that was waiting for him.

#Whumptober 2022 #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #The Witcher #Whumptober #That writing thing I do

[imperatorium]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Papa Emeritus III, Sister Imperator, Cardinal Copia, Papa Emeritus II, Papa Emeritus I, Papa Emeritus Zero | Papa Emeritus Nihil  Additional Tags: Yule, Holidays, Family Dynamics, Maternal Instinct, Children, Family Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Implied Relationships

"Does that sound right to you?" she asks.  There's something heavy about the question, like she's actually asking instead of just saying something she expects everyone to agree with her on.

Three knows that means he has to be even more careful with his answer.  "That's..." He's hesitant.  "That's what the Clergy says."

A mirthless smile sneaks its way onto Sister's face.  "I'm not speaking of what's right in the eyes of the Clergy," she explains.

Happy second day of (Anti)Christmas, congregation! This year, for the @ghostbcfandomevents​ gift exchange, I had the pleasure of writing for @teriopi​, based on their prompt: III being a wise ass or a fancy pants, either is great. I’m a big fan of their art, so getting to create them a little somethin’-somethin’ this year was really exciting. ♥

#the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #sister imperator #ghostbcgiftexchange2022 #that writing thing i do

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

#yeehaw #1k #5k #10k #posts that got cursed. blasted. im making these tag updates after... 19 hours? #also i have been told it should say speech loss bc nonverbal specifically refers to the permanent state. did not know that! #unfortunately i fear it is so far past containment that even if i edited it now it would do very little. but noted for future reference #edit 2: nvm enough ppl have come to rb it from me directly that i changed the wording a bit. hopefully this makes sense #also. in case anyone is curious. though i doubt anyone who is commenting these things will check the original tags #1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now #he felt very bad about it afterwards. i thought it was hilarious but it was very embarrassed and apologetic #2) “why didn't he use 🫵🏼?” didn't exist yet. “why didn't he use 🆗?” dunno! we'd been using a lot of hand emojis. ���🏼 is an ok sign #like it makes sense. it was just a silly mixup. also No i did not invent 👉🏼👌🏼 as a gesture meaning sex. do you live under a rock #3) nonspeaking episodes are a recurring thing in my life and have been since i was born. this is not a quirky one-time thing #it is a pervasive issue that is very frustrating to both myself and the people i am trying to communicate with. in which trying to speak is #extremely distressing and causes very genuine anguish. this post is not me making light of it it's just a funny thing that happened once #it's no different than if i post about a funny thing that happened in conjunction w a physical disability. it's just me talking abt my life #i don't mind character tags tho. those can be entertaining. i don't know what any of you are talking about #Except the ppl who have said this is pego/ryu or wang/xian. those people i understand and respect #if you use it as a writing prompt that's fine but send it to me. i want to see it #aaaand i think that's it. everyday im tempted to turn off rbs on it. it hasn't even been a week

[sanguinarysanguinity]

Expanding a thought from a conversation this morning:

In general, I think "Is X out-of-character?" is not a terribly useful question for a writer. It shuts down possibility, and interesting directions you could take a character.

A better question, I believe, is "What would it take for Character to do X?" What extremity would she find herself in, where X starts to look like a good idea? What loyalties or fears leave him with X as his only option? THAT'S where a potentially interesting story lies.

In practice, I find that you can often justify much more from a character than you initially dreamed you could: some of my best stories come from "What might drive Character to do [thing he would never do]?" As long as you make it clear to the reader what the hell pushed your character to this point, you've got the seed of a compelling story on your hands.

#writing #writing advice #my writing #I think 'ooc' is a bogeyman that casts too big a shadow for fanfic writers #stop thinking 'is this ooc?' #and start thinking 'have I given this character a good enough reason to do the thing?'

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

#almost wrote the champagne line as ''effervescent'' but legit could not write it without saying ''effervescent like a snail'' #ah tumblr... #writeblr #warm up #idk . having trouble writing rn #ps i don't like to talk about it . it is my medical information. but before you ask. yes this is about being on the spectrum #i really don't like when ppl make my writing about how im [whatever ID]. i want it to ring true for the people who it rings true for #i don't want it to be like ''awwwww look at this person!!! she's the EXCEPTION!!! :)" ..... #no.... not really..... #idk something gross happens whenever i admit to certain conditions and i turn into like inspiration p*rnography #like yes they actually let us use keyboards these days #furthermore i just... dont feel comfortable talking about this part of me. i had too bad of a childhood. adhd is one thing... #this one im like. still coming to terms with. which is like. my own journey. #idk. just please be kind. some things are more private than others. this one feels private to me. #i do not know how to help others w/this . and i do not know how to help myself. i will talk about it if im ever ready. idk if that will #actually ever happen #ty in advance i love u im kissing you we are kissing somewhere on the spectrum

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order #at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers #90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies” #serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent #like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries #but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate #and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited... #i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something #cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare #and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest. #it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!' #'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members... #..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)' #anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language? #maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity #and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media #and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons #and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators #instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period #anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value” #and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives #so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs) #happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world #(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills) #and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on... #...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin #oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works? #beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value #and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the #important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

#writing #fic writing #like this is stuff i'm doing for fun with my perfectionism meter turned down as far as i can get it #and i am still thinking about it A LOT #talk to me about how in red string fic jgy perceives the memory block both as syrup and as mud but nmj thinks it feels like blood #it's just a thing in their heads that mentally feels kind of thick and sticky but they both made something different of it #it's about issues with cleanliness / lies as a way to craft an illusion of a better lopking world vs the constant violence nmj lives in

[theoldaeroplane]

worried that thing you put in your art or writing or game or music is too self-indulgent, too self-referential, too niche for anyone but yourself? fear not! you can do whatever you want forever. and you should.

#writing #art #music #games #things i have to remind myself of daily #anyway ive found those things you're worried about sharing are often the most powerful things you CAN share #i hope you write #<- i would like to replace that tag with something that is less conversational #it makes reblogs awkward #anyway good morning. i have so many things to do today but instead i am crafting a memorial to my partner's best friend in my fanfiction.

[blinkpen]

what if i decided i'm straight up not posting any new art publicly until that family's GFM in my pinned is at least Halfway to its goal

(even half my followers donating 5 bucks each would do that btw)

#i dont know them i just want to focus efforts and secure at least one 'at least this fam conclusively got help' i want to do SOMETHING OK?? #extrwemely time senstiive GFMs that linger in limbo eternally are heartbreaking #i might post writing and reblog pre-posted things so the blogs not dead but mmmmmm

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

#i said i wont ever rant about this bc it's unseemly but HONESTLY. #you simply cannot complain about not having enough of A or B or C and then never reblog / interact with the content you love. #If you LOVE something you cannot just leave a like and silently wait for more to happen #I know countless of content creators that simply stopped doing art/writing fic/making edits #You need to understand that fandom content is made FOR the fandom FOR the engagement FOR the entertainment and fun it makes. #If a content creator does not have fun IN the fandom-- why would they spend the scares free time they have on making this content? #And we're not talking about things that you don't like-- no one expects you to reblog things you don't like. #However I think it's safe to say that when a post has more than 5k it's not some random shitpost with no value. #tumblr issues #tumblr #content creators #buns.txt #something something please don't starve your local clowns

[mostfacinorous]

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH Jaskier and Geralt Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

The only difference between this day and every other one was that they’d lost. 

Or, more accurately, that Geralt had lost; Jaskier had absolutely held up his end of things, which was to say, he’d done as much as ever, which was again to say, not very much, but exactly as much as always. 

Geralt, however, had actually done much more than usual. It was hardly his fault their situation had quickly become worse than usual.

They were frequently confronted by angry armed men, usually at the behest of some rich man with a grudge– not against Jaskier this time, either, which was a relief on his conscience!

They were also frequently hunting or attacked by monsters, sort of part and parcel with traveling with a Witcher. 

However, it wasn’t every day that they were attacked, then the thing fled, then they’d gone after it, there’d been a fight that would likely make for a phenomenal song if Jaskier lived long enough, and then they had been confronted by the angry armed men at a rich man’s behest. 

Because it turned out, that pesta had been his daughter, and no one was supposed to kill her, and they had just been herding her to the neighboring villages, so that her father could purchase them from the other land owners for next to nothing. 

Normally, Geralt would have cut through the guards like it was nothing. There were only ten of them, after all. 

Save for one little thing: Geralt had been impaled by the Pesta during the fight. She had turned her arm into a long, sharp limb that would have looked more at home on those horribly mutated insects they saw from time to time, and she had shoved it in through his stomach and out his back. 

It would have been lethal to anyone else, and may still end up that way for Geralt. Geralt had assured him that the potion he’d had beforehand would counteract the poisons from the Pesta, but that didn’t help with the blood loss and the gaping wound in his abdomen. 

And so that was how they had come to be here, now– in a cell waiting for the Pesta’s father to decide what he would do to them, Jaskier having stripped off his doublet and shirt to use the thinner fabric to try and hold Geralt’s torso closed. 

He’d managed to lift three bottles out of the saddle bags during the confrontation, and smuggled them into his pants as he used to smuggle ends of bread, but these were significantly more important just now. 

He knew that one would speed the healing along, so he had uncorked that and dumped it unceremoniously down Geralt’s throat, trying not to feel bad at the way he’d gargled and choked a bit in the process. 

Another was a stamina boosting potion– his theory was that if he gave that to him, the process of healing might go a little faster, as his heart furiously pumped everything through his system. 

And the last one, he knew was one of those that would turn his eyes black and his face veined– a potion he could use to stay up during a fight, even if he was hurt beyond human reckoning. 

Jaskier didn’t give him that one. It would be a last ditch effort potion. One that would buy him just a little more time. It would also be highly toxic and taxing on Geralt, he knew from experience. So they would have to be sure he was somewhere to receive real help before that potion wore off. Or things would be, once again, much worse. 

The two immediately helpful potions drained and mostly down Geralt’s throat, all Jaskier could do was try to hold both Geralt and himself together– the former a little more literally as the blood on his hands went from slick to sticky to dried, and the smell began to thicken and coat his throat, coppery and dark even to his meager human senses. 

He was sure it must bother Geralt. He hoped it did. He hoped he would come to feeling well enough to complain about it. 

Hoped he would come to, at all.

He pulled his hands away and watched, critically, to make sure the movement hadn’t tugged the wound open again, but it seemed to have stopped bleeding, for now. His breathing was slow and even, but regular, and his heart beat… well, Jaskier wasn’t sure he knew what was normal for a Witcher’s heartbeat. He hadn’t had many occasions to listen to Geralt’s when he was in good shape, and so it sounded incredibly slow to him. 

He tried not to panic about that. 

Instead, he chose to panic about the sound of footsteps headed their way. He glanced back over Geralt’s form, and decided to risk it– he tucked the final potion into Geralt’s belt. 

If they took him away, at least the Witcher might have the opportunity to make it out. 

This, it turned out, was a wise decision– for the guards pulled him, protesting, to his feet and marched him up and out of the dungeon and into the hold proper. 

He felt somewhat less ready to be presented than usual, notably because he was bare chested, covered in blood, and hadn’t been listening when the soldiers who had taken them had said who they were working for. 

He’d been a little distracted at trying to save Geralt’s life, and even now, had no idea if he had succeeded. 

Even so, he ignored his unpresentability as best he could, took a deep breath, and entered the hall with every intention of doing whatever he had to to get some form of help for Geralt. 

The Pesta’s father looked up, his brow furrowing. 

“The Baron Fredro.” The herald announced, much to Jaskier’s gratitude. This part, at least, he was trained for. 

He bowed to the correct depth for a baron, sweeping his leg as required in this part of the continent, and straightened. 

“They tell me your friend, who killed my daughter, is dying.” Baron Fredro said, as Jaskier stood. 

“He is grievously wounded, yes… though, one might argue your daughter was already dead, when they fought.” Jaskier spoke carefully, and watched the Baron’s face as he did so, trying to feel out where his mind was in this matter. “He will die, though, without help.” 

“Good.” The Baron sat back in his chair. “One less Mutant on the continent. One less murderer.” 

Jaskier’s mouth dropped open and he let it open and close for a few times before he started forward, finger raised toward the Baron, only for his guards to grab Jaskier and force him to keep his distance.

“Rich words coming from a man who weaponized his daughter’s corpse, used it to kill off so many folks in the villages you now own. The only monster I have seen today is you.”

Not fully accurate, he supposed. There were those among the guards who knew, and the Pesta itself was… horrific. But even still, the words found their mark, and the Baron stood angrily. 

The guards gripped Jaskier by his arms, and the Baron pulled his dagger– as the door opened behind them. The smile that split the Baron’s face was slow, and full of malice, and with a gesture he instructed that the guards turn Jaskier around. 

The spun him, and Jaskier saw, his heart leaping with hope and pride, and then falling with fear– Geralt. Black of eye and dark of vein, swaying unsteadily on his feet. 

There were men laying behind him in the hallway, and more, Jaskier was sure, in the corridor and the stairwell and the dungeon… it wouldn’t have been easy, getting here, and it wouldn’t be easy now. 

“Your bard had no faith in you living.” The Baron announced loudly, and Jaskier flinched– not at his words, but at the fact that they came from right behind him. The Baron had approached while he was distracted. He opened his mouth to say something, but felt the tip of a blade at the side of his mouth, as the Baron leaned over his shoulder on the opposite side. 

He trailed the dagger teasingly down over Jaskier’s jaw, and let it sit at the very point in his neck that sent his pulse hammering through his ears. 

“You took my daughter from me, Witcher. I will make you watch as I take someone you care about from you. Say goodbye, Bard.”

Jaskier took a deep breath. He hadn’t spent much time considering his last words. He knew he ought to have, that a perfect ending made for the best stories, but he’d hoped that end would be years from now, where he was ancient and in a soft bed, surrounded by loved ones. 

Instead, it would be here, shirtless and with Geralt’s blood on his hands. 

He opened his mouth again, mind whirling with all the things he wished he had said to Geralt before now–

And a dagger whizzed through the air, over his shoulder, and embedded itself in the Baron’s eye. Jaskier felt the way his blade scored his neck– superficial and shallow, he hoped– as he fell. 

He saw Geralt’s loping run towards the remaining guards, and knew the countdown was already going to get him to a healer.

So he tugged his arms, forcing them to divide their attentions, and did his best to help, this time. 

#whumptober #whumptober 2022 #geralt #jaskier #geraskier #that writing thing I do #the witcher

[imperatorium]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Papa Emeritus Zero | Papa Emeritus Nihil/Sister Imperator, Sister Imperator, Papa Emeritus IV, Cardinal Copia Additional Tags: Rituals, Wakes & Funerals, Magic, Dysfunctional Family, Family Fluff, Mother-Son Relationship, Regret, Birds, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort

Eight months had passed since Copia ascended to "Papadom", as he called it.  Eight months, since...

It still felt surreal to think about, for all of them.  The magic of the ritual wore off so quickly, but the memory hung around the church like...well, a miasma.  The new antipope, strutting about the stage, showing off his new robes - letting all that new power go right to his head.  Events aside, it was hard to hold that against him - being kept from his birthright for so long, at the subjugation of others, probably seemed like a prolonged, unnegotiated orgasm denial.  Of course the relief would be explosive and, at times, unflattering.

Not the first time Sister Imperator had seen it happen.

But she was so proud of how quickly the boy settled into the work.  In front of a crowd, he proved every bit as charismatic as she knew he would be.  He went through his paperwork with moderate exhaustion, but minimal complaint - to her, at least (and that, as far as she was concerned, was all that counted).  He brought hope back to the restless members of the congregation, purpose to ill-used members of the Clergy and Sisters of Sin, and inspiration to his Ghouls.  He only slept when she sent him to bed, only ate when she delivered meals and company, but oh, how he shined in the new role.

"Just as I said he would," she uttered out loud, not looking up from her own matter at hand.  She thought she heard rustling in the trees, in response, but also knew the folly in ascribing dissent to something she wasn't sure could give it.

I was today years old when I realized that Nicxan & I accidentally wrote the “Call Me Little Sunshine” prechorus before its time in early fall of 2020. We published Copia’s POV to this for the Ghost BC Reverse Big Bang back then (which you can read here) and since I mentioned it in an ask earlier today, here’s Sister’s POV of the same event, two years later.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #sister imperator #papa emeritus iv #that writing thing i do

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

#i'd have like. five. which isn't a lot but IT KEEPS HAPPENING #stranger things #platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #here we go again boys #i've had this floating in my head for a Minute and i was like #nah i'm not gonna do it #maybe i'll anonymously write a fic #but no we're mombin posting on main #i think on twt we agreed it's a 'what's the worst that could happen' situation #platonic co parents can be so so so personal #also i have One more stobin wip and then bg3 again i swear #when i have a baby i Will be putting my giant black wings on beforehand #they have to know what kind of family they're coming into #cw pregnancy

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

Reading fetish erotica with absolutely pristine and morally upright consent and neat and tidy safer sex practices is like watching a Fast and Furious movie where they stop at every stop sign and signal for every lane change and always obey the speed limit.

#I do those things in real life #I want to read a story about some fucked up shit going down #Thx mate #post o' mine #writing

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:

vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)

which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.

luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.

why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.

vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.

then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.

which then require months of further specialized treatment.

the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage

vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.

the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!

it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!

which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s

Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.

today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar

if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!

in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!

(src)

#Vanilla Extract #i open the tumblr app and immediately my nostrils are invaded by the overwhelming stench of vanilla #also if you want real vanilla extract at a discount: check out stores like HomeGoods TJMaxx Marshalls etc #the foodstuffs section tends to have fancy nonperishables for much cheaper than upscale grocery stores #you can get things like saffron truffles fancy oils at surprising prices #still expensive but like. 50% cheaper #or just shoplift if that's your thing i won't tell you how to live your life #did i just spend an hour writing this? yes. why did i do that? i don't KNOW

[bishy437]

he won

bonus:

#oi oi don’t steal my tags i see u 🫵 #svsss #mdzs #moshang #hualian #bingqiu #sqq u spoilt brat #binghe is def the best cook out of the three gongs i’m not saying this lightly #we know lwj can cook from the extras and i can only assume hc can cook bc the only thing he CANT do is write BUT: #xl enjoys cooking so ofc hc is gonna let him express himself culinarily #and wwx is a spice fanatic weirdo who wants to go live his m!lf dreams into the sunset #lwj will not get in the way of that #sqq however is perfectly content having bingmei cook his meals forever and never stepping into a kitchen #scum villian self saving system #scum villain #mo dao zu shi #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #wangxian #mine #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #wei wuxian #lan wangji #xie lian #hua cheng #shang qinghua #mobei jun