#worm witcher worm headcanon

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Worm Witcher Worm

Jaskier wrote Burn Butcher Burn after The Mountain Divorce, and spent the next two years singing it in every tavern and inn he came to. It became one of his most well-known songs.

Geralt spent his time wandering the Path alone, and heard people talk about a popular song, but he never paid much attention. After he made up with Jaskier and they started traveling together again, he eventually found out about the song.

It was awkward. Really awkward. They couldn't look each other in the eye, and conversation was painfully uncomfortable for days afterwards. They had a nice long talk one evening, only after Roach got tired of watching them wallow and took matters into her own hands...er, hooves.

She'd trod heavily on Geralt's foot while he was unsaddling her, then shoved him toward Jaskier with her head. Geralt had taken the hint and started the most awkward converstation in history.

Under Roach's watchful eye, threatening snorts, and laced back ears, words were exchanged, the figurative Olive Branch was extended, given an encouraging shake, and apologies were made along with promises to be better.

Fast forward months later. Jaskier and Geralt were back to being besties, and Jaskier was spending another winter with his surrogate family. Jaskier had gotten up late, had a late breakfast, and then drank some wine to get rid of his hangover.

He'd harrassed Lambert about his hair, lecturing him in the middle of the Great Hall before dragging him down to the hotsprings.

He'd gone wandering the corridors and empty rooms of the keep, playing out the stories in his head that would inspire songs and ballads.

He'd gone to have long, philosophical discussions with Roach, who was a very good listener, and agreed with him on everything.

Jaskier skipped down to lab to f**k with Yennefer, getting in the way, bantering, and generally being a nuissance.

"Will you get out of here? I'm trying to work, you irritating, insufferable, c*ckwomble!"

"Oh, please! You know you can't stand to be parted from me!"

"I will part you if you don't leave immediately!"

"Ooooh, it that a proposition?"

"Get out before I throw you in the garden, and plow you-!"

"That's anatomically impossible for you to do, but I'm always open to new experiences. I'm sure we could figure something out!."

"I'm going to turn you into a worm!"

Jaskier ran for it when Yennefer lunged at him, and ducked out the door, laughing. "You'd still love me even if I was a worm, right?"

Yennefer chased him out the door, throwing an empty bowl at him.

Jaskier retreated to his room, deciding it was best to stay out of Yennefer's way for a while. He worked on one of his new songs for a while, then went down to the kitchen to pinch a bottle of wine and some bread and cheese.

He took his time, enjoying his snack, and as the level of the wine in the bottle slowly dropped, he started thinking about what Yennefer had said about turning him into a worm. Would she really do it? Would it be permanent, or would it wear off?

Would the spell work on Witchers? Would they be normal worms, or would they be different? They were Witchers, after all. Would they keep their Witcher qualities? Would they be Witcher worms?

And that begs the question: would he be regular worm sized, or would he be, like, a giant worm? With a hat? Would he still be able to sing? Would he be just a giant worm with a fancy hat and a lute that went around singing songs?

Would he sing about people, or would he only sing about worms? Would he have to change his songs to be about worms instead? And how would he play his lute? Would he use his a**end, or would he have some sort of little arms? His brain, marinated in alcohol, started exploring the idea.

Several hours later, Jaskier found himself back in the Great Hall, sitting at the dinner table with his Wolf family. He listened to the stories from the Path, laughing along, and teasing the Wolves about one thing or another. They drank and sang, and played games, and made fun of Lambert.

Long after they should have been in bed, all of them to a man were sh*tfaced off their a**es.

It was too hard to play Gwent when the cards wouldn't hold still long enough to get proper look at the suits, and you couldn't remember how to play anyway.

Telling stories of the Path had lost it's appeal after the stories only got more confusing because no one could remember which story they were telling and in what order the events happened.

Fighting was out of the question when the floor kept tilting and rolling under your feet and the b**tard you were trying to fight kept changing places everytime you blinked.

All the while, Jaskier's slowly pickling brain kept circling back to his earlier thoughts about worms. The thoughts wriggled in and squiggled around, burrowing deeper into his thoughts, brining new thoughts and questions, new things to wonder about.

Eskel tossed back the last dregs of his White Gull and plonked his tankard down, called cheerfully "Jask, sing us a song!"

"A song, bard!" the other Witchers called out in agreement, then started chanting, "Sing! Sing! Sing!"

Jaskier, brain embalmed at this point, heard the crowd calling him, and could not resist. The next thing he knew he was standing on top of the table, thoughts still falling down the rabbit hole of worms. He cradled his lute, and, with his last functioning brain cell only able to remember something about worms, started singing.

The song was familiar, especially to Geralt, but he was confused. They lyrics were different. He didn't remember the song being about worms. Still, it was catchy. It was one of those songs that stuck in your brian and kept you awake all night, playing over and over.

There was something about it that just made you want to get up and move. No, it was like some sort of magic spell: It compelled you to get up and...

Jaskier's voice rose and boomed through the Hall as he hit the chorus, "WORM, WITCHER, WoOoOrRRRMMMM!"

Jaskier could not explain the phenonemon that resulted in the weirdest form of locomotion that he had ever seen. Witchers all thourghout the Hall were throwing themselves to the floor and undulating across it like sine waves.

Jaskier marvled at the magical sight, belting out the next verses and following up with the chorus.

Yennefer and Vesemir, hearing the noise came into the Great Hall to see what f**kery was afoot and were greeted by the oddest sight.

Jaskier *Standing on the table*: "WaTcH ThAt WiTCheR WoOoRRRMMM!

Geralt and his brothers: *frantically doing The Worm*

Yennefer stood there watching out of horrified fascination, speechless as Geralt 'wormed' as if his life depended on it. If he wormed any faster, she feared he would go airborne. Jaskier hit the chorus line again, belting out "WoRm, WiTcHeR WoRM, WoRM, wOrM, WoRm..."

Vesemir dipped out without a word. He was going to bed. He was just too old for this sh*t.

Yennefer watched for a few moments as her two idiots went on with their nonsense. She wondered what was going on inside their heads, then decided she didn't want to know. She marveled at how easily she had let these two imbeciles into her life. She sighed. Love was so complicated.

Yennefer left moments later, not wanting to bear witness to what ever disaster was going to happen if one of them Wormed too close to the fire pit, or over the piles of empty bottles of White Gull.

The next morning, the Witchers woke up with massive hangovers, wondering why they felt as if they'd been bludgeoned by rock trolls. They could remember nothing of the previous night's activities, but for some mysterious reason, they all had had odd dreams about worms.

#the witcher #the witcher headcanon #the witcher netflix #twn #geraskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #geraskifer #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yennaskier #yenneskier #eskel #coen #lambert #vesemir #kaer morons #worm witcher worm headcanon

[lassieposting]

So this was meant to be a little headcanons post about Vesemir's main relationships over the years, but it got wildly out of control so here have five little ficlets instead

ILLYANA

Vesemir is six when he decides he's going to marry Illyana.

He's never known a life without her in it. She's four months his junior, his playmate practically from birth. He pulls her pigtails and chases her with worms, and she doesn't tell his father. He plays house with her for countless hours, letting her henpeck and berate him the same way her mother henpecks her father, and doesn't complain. When they're nine, her father succumbs to the wasting sickness, and she's forced to grow up; she takes on chores of her own, becomes mature and responsible and levelheaded in all the ways Vesemir is not, but her eyes still light up when he leaves stolen honeycake beneath her cot in the indentures' dormitory.

He's not giving up on her - he's not - when he runs away to join the witchers. He always intends to return to her, like he promised that day by the frozen lake. He'll take the most dangerous contracts, make the kind of coin they could only have dreamed off as impoverished brats, and she'll have her lake house, her painting, her wine and food and whatever else she's decided she wants in the intervening years. It never occurs to him that she might not be there when he gets back.

She isn't.

She writes before his Trial of the Grasses, and isn't that just a note and a half to go out on? Forget me, Vesemir, she says, as he's fucking throwing up his own insides in a pit surrounded by dead and dying boys.

(He's not a complete moron. He knows she didn't write that letter - not by her own hand, at least. The old master never taught any of his indentures to read or write. Vesemir's learned at Kaer Morhen, but Illyana's not had that opportunity, and she's got real elegant handwriting for someone who's only just learning to write a few words. No - at best, she dictated it. He's...not surprised, in the end, to hear that her new master's family had a son who cared for her. He's just surprised that a pampered nobleman was thoughtful enough to give a servant girl that kind of closure.)

He doesn't expect to survive the Trial, but he does. Mutagens burn through his blood and remake him from the ground up. Four survivors, in his training class. Him and Luka. Rennes and Sven. The lucky few.

He goes out on the Path, and he does his best to do as she asked; forget me, Vesemir.

Since he was six, he believed he'd marry Illyana.

He doesn't.

FILAVANDREL

Vesemir is in his late twenties when he meets Fil, barely out of Kaer Morhen. He's got two or three years out on the Path, and he thinks he's a seasoned hand, because he's young and dumb and overconfident.

It's his first time going after a higher vampire without Deglan backing him up. He's not a dullard, he's done his research, but he's inexperienced, and he stands his ground where he should've dodged. It happens. He feels his ribs break, feels something puncture, chokes on blood. Sheer animal panic takes over, and for the first time in his life, he turns tail and flees from a fight. The bastard laughs, jeers, as he runs for his fucking life.

(He'll go back and take the fucker's head, later, better prepared and with a plan. He's paid well for it, but he comes away from that hunt with a hefty coin purse, a livid new scar, and a whole new respect for the lethality of his chosen career)

Fil stumbles upon him toppled facedown in the dirt at the side of the road with his horse huffing nervously at him as he bleeds out in the muck. Devastatingly romantic, as first meetings go.

It'll be a while yet before the Great Cleansing, but Fil already has every reason to hate humans. He's only marginally less hostile towards witchers. He's got shit to do. Somewhere to be.

He stops anyway.

He saves Vesemir's life. Nurses him back to health, such as it is. Hunts for him. Cooks for him. Straps up his ribs so they'll mend clean. Watches over him while he sleeps. Helps him lift his head up to drink a vial of Swallow whenever he needs it - the round bottle, he asks for, since Fil doesn't know shit about witcher elixirs. Bullies foul-tasting, fouler-smelling elven remedies down his throat that dull the agony to a bearable pain and make it hard to keep his eyes open.

He's...touched, might be the word. Fil is aloof and prickly and pretty bossy for a guy who looks like one punch could lay him out, but he's also...well. He's kind.

And fiercely intelligent, when Vesemir manages to get him talking in the evenings. And funny, in a serious kind of way. And oddly striking in a certain light.

Which, no, wait - that's probably the blood loss talking.

...right?

They part once Vesemir has healed enough to be able to stay in the fucking saddle without keeling over, and honestly, he's a little disappointed. He likes Fil. Fil's company, he means. The - the conversation. You know.

He...maybe realises a few things about himself on the way home.

He speaks to Deglan about Fil when he gets back to Kaer Morhen. Or. Freaks out a little at Deglan about Fil, might be more appropriate? He'll laugh about it, one day, looking back - Deglan doesn't do feelings, and he spends the entire conversation looking like he'd rather feed his own dick to a manticore than hold Vesemir's hand through any kind of emotional revelation, but when Vesemir runs out of steam, the old buzzard heaves a heavy sigh, throws back his entire glass of wine, and - like it pains him - grits out, "Look, young feller, if it's bothering ye this much, just fuck the elf and get it over with. Ye'll either enjoy it or ye won't. Either way, problem solved."

Which makes sense, actually. So when he runs into Fil again, several months down the line, that's exactly what he does.

Well, sort of. Fil knows what he's doing and Vesemir doesn't, and also Fil is a bossy pain in the arse, so he sort of...takes the reins and then just never gives them back. But it turns out Vesemir is - hm. Kind of into that, actually. It's educational, and fun, and apparently wins Sven thirty crowns in a betting pool Vesemir didn't even know existed, so whatever.

(He'll repay his life-debt eventually, in Cintra. He's just finished killing a territorial and directionally-confused water hag who found her way into the bowels of the castle through a fucking sewer tunnel. He emerges via the castle's gaol, and he's following a Cintran guard to his sizeable reward - royal contracts are always lucrative - when he catches Fil's scent coming from one of the cells, overlaid with sickness and infection and fear, and the strange scents of a dozen other elves crammed into the same cell. Witchers aren't supposed to get involved in political conflicts, but...it's Fil. Political neutrality be damned. He rips the door off its hinges with a blast of aard, and guides the captive elves out of the city via the tunnel he's just oh-so-helpfully de-hagged for them. The guard...well, he gets rowdy, and Vesemir deals with him, fast and efficient. Deglan, when he finds out, is furious, which is fine, because Vesemir isn't proud of it either. He knows he's broken the guild's code.

He'd do it again anyway.

Of course he would. It's for Fil.)

LUKA

Luka is the first friend Vesemir makes when he arrives at Kaer Morhen. He's a few years younger; a scrawny, loudmouthed runt of a kid, angry at the world and everything in it, with an unfortunate habit of starting shit with boys twice his size. He calls Vesemir a stupid son of a bitch, that first night in the stables when Sven asks for his story, because he's the only one in their initiate group who volunteered to become a witcher, and Vesemir bristles, lunges up and knocks him flat, and Luka grins savagely at him from the floor, wipes his split lip on his ragged sleeve and tells him, "You hit like my Ma. Learn to throw a punch, and maybe you'll live long enough to get out of here."

They're in the same training group - Vesemir is older, but he's never held anything more dangerous than a butter knife and he can neither read nor write, so they're in the same boat. He throws himself into training with the kind of motivation that only comes with wanting to be there, hours upon hours of drills and tracing letters with his pointer finger while he sounds them out like a small child, memorising monster features and alchemy ingredients, hanging on his tutors' every word. Barmin pairs him with Luka for sparring, and Vesemir tends to pull his punches against smaller opponents because it's, you know, unfair, but Luka is stabby and bitey and so fierce that he can take Vesemir two bouts out of four, and well, Vesemir can respect that.

He saves Luka's life in the Red Swamp, and something changes; Luka becomes his friend. When Luka wakes, Vesemir is perched on the end of his bed reading Illyana's letter. Luka rasps, "You saved my life," and Vesemir says, "Nah. Ghoul got in the way, I was aiming for you," and from that moment, they're inseparable.

They start sharing a bed early. It's purely common sense at first - Kaer Morhen is cold for unmutated boys even in summertime, Luka is skinny and underfed; it makes sense to let him burrow into Vesemir's side and share body heat. Then, after the Trial of the Grasses, the survivors are moved into a dormitory and...well. Luka is far from the only one having night terrors. Vesemir doesn't mind Luka crawling in beside him, shaking, pressing close like he's trying to get under Vesemir's skin. He thinks he's dead half the time, poor bastard, trapped in his own rotting corpse, and that's a lot worse than any of the nightmares Vesemir has, so he lets Luka sprawl over him and listen to his heartbeat and they get through those fucking months together.

Luka has known he liked other boys since he was small, and Vesemir has known Luka likes other boys since...gods, sometime before the Trial. It's not a big deal, and he's far from the only one in the keep who'd rather tumble other witchers. But when some of the older boys, newly-minted witchers back from their first year alone on the Path, let Vesemir tag along to go drinking and whoring in Ard Carraigh when he's about eighteen, Luka is weird and awkward about it for days, almost like he's sulking, as though he doesn't go about stinking of sex half the time himself.

Vesemir is highly intelligent, see. But it's...it's kind of a witcher thing to not be very bright, about all that feelings nonsense. It never crosses his mind that Luka is jealous.

He gets older. Deglan takes a personal interest in his training; he's an arse, but he's one of the best, and Vesemir hears him bragging to the other witchers occasionally - my lad this, my lad that. Vesemir's own father never bragged about anything he did. It's nice, to be worth that kind of pride.

And before he knows it, he's old enough to apprentice, and Deglan takes him out for his first year on the Path. It's tough for him and Luka, that year, to suddenly be separated from someone they've been joined to at the hip for near on a decade, but for Vesemir there's the distraction of the job - Deglan has him doing all the work an adult witcher would be doing, claiming that he's "only there to keep ye from gettin' yerself killed, young feller", and it turns out witchering is exhausting. But he's earning decent coin for the first time in his life, and Deglan teaches him some smart cons for when times are hard, and...he's good at it. Really, truly good at something, like he always wanted. Deglan has to intervene a few times, when a monster's about to eat him, but not half as much as he expected to need to, and Vesemir comes back to Kaer Morhen that winter with a new confidence and independence that make him feel like a seasoned warrior compared to Luka and Sven.

Luka missed him, desperately. And it turns out they don't quite know how to be two halves of a whole, anymore. That's...a tough few years, figuring out how to be two people, instead of one. And somewhere in the middle of it, Vesemir meets Filavandrel, and that's a whole fucking journey of self-discovery, and suddenly a few quirks of Luka's, in the way he acts around Vesemir, that he's never thought twice about start making sense.

When Luka is ready to apprentice, Vesemir starts hassling Deglan early - let me take him. Deglan is wary - Vesemir hasn't been a grown witcher that long himself, after all, but he has enough of Deglan's favour and trust that the old buzzard gives way. "If he gets killed because ye're arsin' about, or showin' off, ye'll carry that for the rest of your life. Take. This. Seriously."

And Vesemir does. He works Luka hard, but he steps in sooner than Deglan did for him when Luka needs help, and they spend their evenings flashing hard-earned coin in taverns. They work well together - not as two halves of a single whole, but as...like good food and fine wine. Both serve perfectly well alone, but...they're better together.

And he's less oblivious now than he was, when they were younger. He notices the little sideways glances Luka shoots him when he's bathing or changing his shirt, the light-hearted comments hovering just on the safe side of flirtatious, the sulking and the cold shoulder whenever he spends the night in a barmaid's bed. He brings it up after Luka cockblocks him for the third night in a row, chasing off the blacksmith's daughter with scowls and barbed remarks, because...well, because as it turns out, Luka has never been particularly subtle about his feelings; Vesemir has just been blind. He asks if there's anything Luka wants to tell him.

There is.

NENNEKE

After Kaer Morhen is sacked, he looks for somewhere safe to take the four leftover brats Deglan charged him with. He tries Kaer Seren first, because the Griffins aren't the worst, as other schools go, and they'd have all the facilities necessary for training young witchers, but that's a bust. He turns to Fil, who's hospitable enough when Vesemir shows up on his doorstep with four skinny, hollow-eyed little wretches trailing behind him like every man's worst nightmare, but he's barely got enough resources to feed his own people, and witchers eat like horses. It's Fil who points him to the temple, actually - the one place he knows of that will take in pity-cases longterm, even freaks like elves and mutants.

Nenneke is a mere junior priestess when Vesemir shows up with the boys. They're a fucking mess, he knows that - it's a little over a year that they've been on the road, never staying in one place for long, trying to always stay one step ahead of the rampant anti-witcher sentiment sweeping down from the north. The boys are twitchy and skittish - that's his fault, he knows that; he's been working while they travelled, because he has to, nobody else is going to earn coin to put food in their damned mouths, and that means he has to leave the whelps alone and vulnerable in a rented room somewhere for days at a time, where it's a benefit to them - no, where it's essential to their fucking safety - to be wary of humans. And he's become a brusque, grouchy bastard in that year, hard on them and harder on anyone else who comes near them, because it's -

It's been a lot. To - to deal with. Humans and - fucking mages - they all look like threats now. And he's the only thing between those kids and getting strung up in the fucking street like the vermin the humans think they are.

Anyway, the temple takes them in, because Melitele is a sucker for punishment, he guesses, and he's introduced to...gods, a whole fucking host of priestesses and acolytes, none of whom particularly stand out as anything other than probably not dangerous, and one of them is Nenneke. She's bald and beautiful and speaks with a strong accent he can't quite place, and apparently she likes brats, because she goes down on one knee to introduce herself to Lambert, and - well, with the benefit of knowing her a little better, he can surmise she was probably going to magic him a fucking...flower, or something, to win him over, but at the time...she opens her hand, palm-up, and he smells the scent of magic, and he reacts. It's not as bad as it could've been - he seizes a fistful of Lambert's little cloak, drags the boy back behind his own body and snarls at her to back off in a tone that sounds half-feral even to him, but he doesn't attack her or anything - but that one interaction is enough for them to take an instant dislike to one another.

It stays that way for a while.

She inserts herself into their lives in a truly infuriating way, always offering to teach the boys or play with them or take them down to dinner, and - it's not that he doesn't want the time alone, he does, he really does, but they're his fucking kids and he hates letting them out of his sight, hates leaving them with anyone, especially a gods-damned sorceress.

(Druid, she tells him firmly, the first time he calls her that. Apparently the difference is that she wasn't trained at Aretuza. She learned magic from...well, a fucking dream, or something, he doesn't know. He doesn't really see much of a difference, not for a long time.)

And she has a lot of opinions about his - he's loath to call it parenting - how he deals with the whelps. He's too hard on them, she insists. Too cold, too detached, too grumpy, too heavy-handed, too, too, too. He doesn't let them 'be children', whatever that means. Hovers too much. Doesn't show them he loves them enough. As if she could do any fucking better, in his place.

(She can. She does. He kind of hates her for it)

And the thing is - the temple is good for them. He's not so up his own arse that he can't see that. Geralt used to go days at a time without speaking a word, and now he talks to the priestesses in the halls. Eskel is less stressed, less overwhelmed with the pressure of keeping order while Vesemir works. Lambert is -

Lambert is Lambert. But he's Lambert a bit less offensively and a bit less angrily than usual.

He doesn't settle as quickly as they do. He's still prickly and tense and tired all the fucking time, because he doesn't really sleep. He catnaps, but...someone needs to be on guard, to protect the boys. He spends a lot of the night hours pacing the temple's empty, candlelit corridors like a wraith or brooding on a balcony with a decent vantage point over the temple grounds, and the rest of them in the hallway outside the bedroom the boys are sharing, meditating or reading or - or just staring blankly at the fucking pages of some ancient manuscript because he's read the same sentence five times already and the voices of his ghosts are too loud to keep out any longer.

Nenneke likes the late hours. She volunteers to go around lighting all the candles in the evenings, and he's...he's not sure if she just doesn't go to bed, or if she gets up multiple times in the night, but it's not unusual for her to amble past him in her house robe and slippers. She claims to enjoy the quiet. The peace.

Vesemir barely remembers what peace felt like.

One day, she catches him on the edge of dozing off on the bench outside the boys' door. He startles, lurching to his feet and taking a step to the side, blocking the way into their room, as she appears in the archway, the candlelight blurring around her like a halo. She stops there for a moment, looking at him like she's trying to figure him out. "They are safe here," she tells him. "And so are you."

That's all she says to him that first night, but over time, they get closer. She finds the gaps in his armour and pokes at them, and bit by bit, he lets her in. She does what she can to heal them - all of them. She teaches Eskel to control his signs. She works with Lambert on his temper. Does her best to mediate between Lambert and Vesemir, and teach them both some communication skills. When Vesemir can't sleep, she sits up with him, lets him exorcise his demons bit by painful bit until he doesn't have to clench his jaw to keep from welling up at Luka's name or flinch at Deglan's anymore.

(She'll tell him, eventually, that she's been skimming his surface thoughts when she spots him late at night. She's watched him replay it over and over: the moment he realised he'd as good as murdered Illyana, a hundred torturous scenarios where Luka dies alone and terrified, your fault your fault your fault. She'll tell him he's torturing himself, that he wasn't to blame for half the things he's laying at his own door, that he shouldn't be so hard on himself. And - he hasn't cried, hasn't let himself cry, since he heard Illyana's heart stop beating, because someone has to keep their shit together in this pack and it's not going to be the kids, but he will then, with his face buried in her shoulder like a child.)

They'll never be fixed, not really. Wounds like these don't ever truly heal. But they get to a point where Eskel starts laughing again, and Vesemir's smiles reach his eyes, and he starts sleeping again - in his room, on good days, or with his head in her lap while she fusses with his hair on bad ones.

Lambert even calms down some, which is nothing short of a fucking miracle.

Eventually, he gets to a point where he's able to focus on properly training the boys, and that's not something he can do at a temple. She - sensible and levelheaded as ever - points out to him one night, as they're sprawled out together in the dark, that the best place to train young witchers is probably a witcher keep. Has he ever considered returning to Kaer Morhen?

And that's what they end up doing.

MIGNOLE

He goes out on the Path again once all the whelps are done with their training, because he doesn't know what to fucking do with himself in Kaer Morhen anymore without them. He's not the only surviving witcher from before the sacking - there are stragglers, a few of them, who hadn't been home for the attack, and who'd made their way back once they heard that the keep was occupied again - but he's the only one who's been basically chained to the castle for the past...oh, however many years. And now his manacles are all grown up and witchering independently, and he realises that at some point, they'd become his whole fucking life.

He was someone before he became a single father of four. He'll just...adapt, like he always has.

For all that he's been out of the game for what feels like a lifetime, he hasn't changed that much. He's still fit, still strong, still fast, still startlingly handsome even if he does say so himself. There are some changes, of course. He's grown his hair out some. He's less picky about his contracts, because he hasn't had that luxury in years. And maybe he keeps an ear out in taverns for any stories of one of his boys passing through this way. So what? He's still him.

Getting back out there feels like coming home.

There's this one Oxenfurt nobleman he takes a job from, proud owner of most of the properties in an outlying district that's crawling with barghests. He's harmless enough - what Deglan would've called a killing lord (the ones who get you killed out of stupidity or inexperience, rather than a murdering lord, the ones who get you killed out of cruelty or greed) - but he's got a daughter who's a fucking menace. She's young and studiously inclined, and the first time he sees her she's chasing him out of the house with ink on her nose and several rolls of parchment tucked under her arm.

She plans to come with him, she announces, like it's a fucking given. She's never seen a barghest up close. She means to draw one for a paper she wants to submit to some academic journal. Perhaps he would be so kind as to identify its organs for her.

Which. Fucking what

He refuses point-blank, and she argues with him in what must be the most amusingly upper-class way anyone ever has - he's "terribly vexing", apparently, and he swears she actually stamps her foot in frustration under those long skirts at one point. She's got this thing where she seems utterly oblivious to just how dangerous that kind of excursion would be. Why would she be in any sort of danger from a living, hungry barghest? She'd have protection.

Him. The big strong witcher.

That's. Hm. Well, he's flattered, if nothing else.

He does not take her to draw living barghests, because he is not a fucking idiot. But he does return with a corpse slung across the back of his horse's saddle - a whole one, rather than just a head ("Gods, how frightfully unsettling it is!"). Because - because she has a pretty little button nose and long eyelashes and she looks up at him like she has no fear of him at all, and he's charmed, damn it.

He's wondered, over the years, what might have been different if he'd sought Illyana out sooner. She was only in her forties when her husband died. All those years, they might've -

Well, maybe Mignole reminds him of a road not travelled, is all.

Her father pays him generously, though he bemoans Vesemir's having brought "that gods-awful thing" back to the house, and Vesemir goes out to fill up on expensive Redanian brandy and equally expensive tobacco. It's the little things, see. The small luxuries he's had to miss out on, bringing up kids.

It's still early when a matronly woman approaches him at the bar, hooded and cloaked, and delivers a note penned in an elegant, swirly hand. It's Mignole, of all people, asking if he might be so kind as to return to her father's townhouse to identify some barghest organs that don't match anything found in a normal dog.

His eyebrows make for his fucking hairline, because that is a blatant lie. Barghests have no such unidentified organs. Either Mignole doesn't know what a kidney looks like or she doesn't want to see him about the beast.

He goes, because he's never been one to turn down an opportunity, and honestly her determination to go after what she wants is refreshing in the mincing, swooning world of noble ladies.

He hops the wall into her father's lavish garden, because he's 90% convinced this is not intended to be the kind of visit she'd want her father to know about, and spots her, reading a book by candlelight on the window ledge in one of the upstairs rooms. She startles when he tosses a pebble at the glass, but her face lights up when she spots him. He's able to climb the trellis right up to her window, and she opens it to let him in.

He doesn't leave until dawn. She doesn't ask him about the fucking barghest once.

#the witcher #netflix witcher #nightmare of the wolf #vesemir #the witcher headcanons #long post #the witcher fic #canon? idk her #catch me happily splashing in the kiddie pool that is notw despite all its flaws #i take liberties with monster lore

[wilderhyperfoxations]

⚜⚘ A B O U T ⚘⚜

⚜Welcome to my messy blog! ⚜My name is Fox Pearl Wilder. He/him. ⚜Main blog (replies, likes from it)- @foxpearlwilder. @foxpearlwilder2 personal/goblincore. @vaporpearl vaporwave. ⚜ Ukrainian, disabled, ASD, ADHD, more; intersex, artist writer. ⚜A billion years old. ⚜Tone tags for jokes are preferred. ⚜Occasional skipping of words. ⚜Languages- English, Ukrainian, French. ⚜This blog is for reblogging fandom/interest-related posts, posting fandom/wip art, shitposting.

  ⚘ F A N D O M S:

🌧Little Pets Shop (G1-G4 merch) 🌧Monster high (Merch, show, movies) 🌧My Little Pony (G1-G4 Merch, G4 show, G5 show.) 🌧Ever After High (Show) 🌧The Owl House (Faves: Darius, Belos, Hunter, Eda, Lilith)  🌧The Amazing World Of Gumball 🌧Rick & Morty 🌧Solar Opposites 🌧Inside Job 🌧Adventure time (Show, spinoffs, comics. Faves: Fern/Green Knight, Marceline, Simon Petrikov/Ice King, Marshall Lee, Prince Gumball) 🌧Wake Up, Carlo! 🌧Tuca & Bertie 🌧 BoJack Horseman 🌧Bee & Puppycat 🌧Dead End Paranormal Park 🌧Futurama (Faves: Calculon, Bender, Zoidberg, Leela, Fry) 🌧Disenchantment 🌧Silent Hill (1st movie, SH2 and 3) 🌧Pyramid Head 🌧Dead By Daylight 🌧Resident Evil 8 🌧Baldur's Gate 3 🌧Dragon Sim. (Mobile game) 🌧The Witcher (Games, books. Faves: Aen Elle, Ciri, Geralt, Yen. Last Wish, Season of Storms.) 🌧Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (movie & books)  🌧Venom (Comics & movies) 🌧Spiderman 2099 (comics from 90s) 🌧"Cryptids" (Mothman.; Sirenhead) 🌧The Runaways 🌧CORPSE

⚘ I N T E R E S T S

🌧Antiques 🌧Restoration/conservation (Jewelry, objects, art, weapons) 🌧Electric Guitars 🌧Synths 🌧Qchord/omnichord 🌧Clowns 🌧Vaporwave 🌧Grunge (in the 90s sense, not tumblr 2010s soft grunge) ����17/18th century (British) puritans 🌧Furry-ism 🌧Taxidermy/Bones 🌧Biology 🌧Botany 🌧Geology 🌧Entomology 🌧Lepidoptera 🌧Mycology 🌧Amphibians 🌧Anura 🌧Sculpture 🌧Art 🌧Poetry 🌧Animation 🌧Fictional writing 🌧Folklore 🌧Mythology 🌧C o l l e c t i n g .

⚜A S K & A L I K E

Feel free to send in asks about my interests, fandoms, my DNI, and alike! Ideas, headcanons, questions. I'll answer. ⚜ DNI: Intersexists, ists or phobes or exclusionists of any kind, proshippers, antis who are really extreme, pedos, right wing bozos, people under 16, radfems/TERFS, super religious blogs or people (don't be fuckin weird abt it yk), zoos, russians or ppl who support russia in any way, communists, nazis, pro ana or thinspo blogs, NFT bros, hella nsfw blogs, people who like incest, you get the idea, if you're a fuckin asshole fuck off, I'm the only asshole allowed to be here. I doubt any of those fuckers would even be here but yeah. If you're one of those block my ass. Also don't start beef with me or complain or something, I'm here to vibe.  ⚜ This blog is safe for any race or ethnicity or gender identity or whatever. As long as you're not harming anyone we're chill. So welcome to my minuscule corner of the internet, hope you enjoy whatever goes on here. 

⚜TAGS: I try to tag tw's but forget sometimes. I have a set of tags for different things. Some are custom, some basic. I tag fandom stuff with the shortened ver of the name, unless it's one word, or a character's name. Toh- the owl house, at- adventure time, tawog- the amazing world of gumball, etc. ⚜Others: classic leg pulling - shitposts original post - a post created by me reblog -a post reblogged from someone else's blog shenanagans - stuff that happens to me rainbow skeletons in my closet - queer stuff the earthly horrors - mental, asd stuff wooden legs and shodden pecs - disability/chro illness stuff safe for work fingering - guitar stuff art- art. my art - self explanatory worms in my head- fandom stuff dream beam - my dreams *Not all are in full use. Sometimes I tag things after posting/reblogging. ⚜*Accessibility, Image Descriptions, Video Descriptions, Captions are included in my posts. I try to make my posts clear. Reblogged posts might not have those included. If I forget to add an ID or VD or CC, comment and I'll fix. If you don't understand something, please ask, I will explain! :]

#Intro #about #original post

[ignify-caligo]

You all know when cats decide that it’s “cuddle time” and fall asleep on top of you, either in your lap or just right on your chest? The number one rule is that you’re not allowed to move or disturb the peace, right? Emhyr’s does, according to that rule.

This man wouldn’t even dare to move a single muscle, whenever Veta decides to sleep on top of him. Most likely he wouldn’t ditch his role as an emperor for that fluffball, but imagine him just giving up on life and his duties, because; “she won’t let me go, Mererid.”

Even if he tried to move her off himself or just abandon ship, Veta would meow pathetically like “I’m just a baby” kind of deal. That cat knows her status as “the emperor’s cat” and exploits every second of it!

#emhyr var emreis #emperor emhyr #veta the cat #mererid #nilfgaard #the witcher books #the witcher saga #the witcher games #caligo's post #caligo's headcanons #a small hc bc I got the pet/owner brain worms #but also bc I want to flesh out a little in the nilfgaardian department bc I have plans for something centered around it #plus who doesn’t love kitties (besides morvran ofc) lmao #there are also plans of updating ao3 hc work of mine if anyones interested in that!

[roughentumble]

you know what???? no more geralt criticisms. no, not even the valid ones. yall have had your geralt!critique privileges REVOKED

#i believe ive reached this conclusion before but. now ive reached it again fuck yall #im sorry but if u think hes so cruel that he'd slaughter and mutilate a pack of wolves simply because he was mad #you arent allowed to think about geralt anymore!!! even show geralt!!!!! your opinion is now invalid forever and yes i AM bullying you #fuck. im so mad skansksndbsj im so angry!!!!! #like sorry but you simply are not allowed to make theories or headcanons or interpret text. ONLY canon for you #and im keeping you on that strict only-canon diet until your fucking brain worm infection clears up #fuck. fucking gods. #wank cw #witcher tag #fuck me. fuck you. fuck this

[suzukiblu]

current projects’ current progress:

Encanto daemons (1000/????)

Bruno + the niblings (400/1000)

Isabela + Camilo (50/????)

de-aged Witcher (2/?)

Geraskier kiss (0/1000)

undecided headcanons x 2 (0/10)

“read the inscription” coda (1700/2000)

more “you make a really good girl” (100/5000)

even more “you make a really good girl” (0/10000)

Jedi Finn AU (4400/10000)

ODYDLB den mother Tony (1100/10000)

Geraskefer soulmates (7100/????)

Viktor and the dragon (400/????)

omega!Darcy (50/2000)

clay kids (17/?)

original serial (7/?)

Making slow but steady process on Jedi Finn, doing some . . . not exactly OUTLINING-outlining but kind of outlining for den mother Tony. I also need to reread basically all of "oh don't you dare look back" to make sure I'm not contradicting anything I wrote in that, buuuuut that's gonna be time-consuming so I haven't done it yet. Also, like, the timeline in that story is just kinda weird, given that I started the original fic before AOU dropped and it is now like . . . Infinity War years later. In real time I mean, not fic time. Fic time is more nebulous and I'm not actually sure what is/isn't going to have happened in said time.

Probably not Ultron, gonna be honest. Probably not. For one thing, I never really liked F.R.I.D.A.Y. as much as J.A.R.V.I.S., imo she was just not very well-defined and I remember very little about her except that she for no given reason existed. Also I have no idea how to deal with Wanda and Pietro in a one-shot about Tony Stark babysitting six to nine children, sooo . . . yeah, that might just not be a thing that happens in "oh don't you dare look back" canon. Or at least not a thing that's happened yet.

Alternately, Tony having to deal with Wanda and Pietro WHILE babysitting six to nine children. Hmmmmm. Okay I should probably not do that, really, I have ENOUGH to write right now without getting into that particular bag of worms, tempting though it may be.

Other things I need to work on: everything, really, but I'll probably just write some more Jedi Finn and some Encanto fic tonight. Just not sure WHICH Encanto fic just yet. Which Encanto fic is up in the air atm.

#rintalk #a/b/o

[officerjennie]

For the smut prompts: There are too many options I love, so either Kisame/Itachi or Geralt/Eskel and your choice of 21, 46, or 103. Thank you for opening prompts! I love your work!

Gonna try 21 (changing who gives and receives) and Geskel for this one - please forgive if it’s not that good ^^; I’m still shaky on Geralt and have no experience with Eskel yet at all. But! Can’t succeed if ya don’t try! and mediocrity isn’t a sin anyway.

(thank you so much for including a Witcher option T^T)

(I headcanon Eskel as ace in this :3 boi has a libido but no sexual attraction)

---

He was halfway into getting pounded rather beautifully into the dingy mattress when Eskel noticed there was something off. Not ‘off’ as in ‘bad’ but something was tickling the back of his mind, managing to worm its way towards the front just enough for him to notice it past the sounds of insect songs coming in from the open window, the way Geralt’s heartbeat raced behind him, the sound of his own breaths echoing so loud they were near deafening.

Something was just a touch off.

Eskel shifted his weight onto just one of his forearms, pushing himself up enough to look over his shoulder. The sight that greeted him was as beautiful as it had been the first time he’d seen it, and the second, and even into the dozens: Geralt was simply a sight to behold. Silver-white hair shinning in the moonlight like some work of poetry, the muscles in his stomach contracting as he rolled his hips in a steady rhythm, his lips parted and eyes half mast.

But the rhythm was slower than usual, and his expression was different.

He had been accused before of reading too far into things, but there was something...curious about the way Geralt was looking at him then. Geralt was usually very present when they fucked but right now his eyes were almost glazed over, focused entirely on where they were connected, his cheeks splashed with color that was a bit too pink to be just from exertion. 

And that blush was honestly too much for him to ignore.

Eskel wiggled just enough to get Geralt’s attention, watching those bright eyes snap up to look at him and sharpen as they did. With a little effort (and a groan), he pulled himself away from Geralt, rolling onto his back and reaching out to tug the other wolf into his arms.

“Is something on your mind?”

He earned a sharp nip to his shoulder that he really felt like he didn’t deserve, Geralt immediately slumping into him, their cocks trapped between them and for now left rather painfully hard and forgotten. Eskel chuckled fondly as he held Geralt close, soothing one hand down his back and the fingers of the other through his hair as the younger man pouted against him.

If he’d learned anything through their years, both growing up together and off-and-on travels and finally their years together, it was that Geralt would open up when he was ready. No sooner and no later. Trying to pry it out of him would just ruin the mood, and if Eskel were honest, despite how his skin singed from stimulation and how his cock leaked, he didn’t really care if Geralt didn’t stop pouting anytime soon.

Sex had never really meant ‘reaching an end’ to him anyway. If he got to hold Geralt tight and kiss the top of his head until Geralt melted into him and fell asleep, well, he wasn’t missing out on anything if he got to have that.

But the way Geralt was unable to keep his hips still, ever so slightly rutting against him, seeking out some sort of friction - it told Eskel that Geralt wouldn’t be keeping quiet for long. Either he would open up, or he’d kiss it firmly from Eskel’s mind.

Geralt huffed, the breath sussing out against Eskel’s skin. He squirmed a little in his arms, sticking his nose as far into the crook of Eskel’s neck as it would go, and then huffed again. And when he finally peeled his face away from where it was firmly pressed into Eskel his face had turned even redder, a frown pulling his lips down but not an upset one. No, it looked much like the kind he donned when he was thinking.

He slid his hand down from his hair to cup Geralt’s cheek, then to caress his chin, the rough pad of his thumb running gently over Geralt’s bottom lip. It made the younger wolf’s eyes flutter shut in a way that had Eskel’s heart skipping - how vulnerable they could be with each other, how gentle and how soft despite the way the world had worn on the both of them.

This, he would trade for nothing.

“What’s it like?”

Eskel blinked at him, not really certain what he meant. While he waited for Geralt to continue, Geralt shifted enough to bring his own hand up in a mirror of Eskel’s, running the back of his fingers against Eskel’s scarred cheek and lips.

“What’s it like to...be in your position? When we have sex?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed in such genuine curiosity and Eskel had to take a steading breath - this man would be the death of him someday. No one person should hold so much of his heart so fully, and yet he knew it was far far too late to change that.

So vulnerable and trusting, and only with him. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“We can switch, if you’d like?” He pushed some of Geralt’s bangs away from his face, then caught his hand to kiss. “Might take a while, I won’t do it without prepping you proper first.”

Geralt nodded, and leaned up to kiss him - first his scar, tender and feather light, and then his full lips, heated and hungry. And as they once again coiled around each other, Eskel patting around the tousled sheets and blankets, he hoped they had enough oil left to fulfill his love’s curiosity.

#geskel #eskel #geralt #the witcher #fanfiction #mywriting #lemony #crosspost later #theintellectualweeb #asks

[bloededhoine]

Do you have any headcanons for Ves or Philippa? As someone with ADHD I like to headcanon Ves with it, she suits our gang well hah. & Philippa is a whole can of worms for headcanons by herself sksksk. Love your blog btw, great stuff!

i feel bad cause this is so nice and has been sitting in my inbox for literally god knows how long but YES I MCFUCKING DO.

ves

definitely adhd. like, classic textbook stereotype adhd. what's my evidence?

what i like to call reasonably reckless behaviour. basically the adhd brain defaults to running like crazy after the serotonin train, but will not only calm down but focus incredibly well once it gets on board.

ves' serotonin train is in doing what's best for her team (a whole other adhd thing i'll get into in a bit).

she can be responsible, like when the stripes and geralt got drunk and stupid, ves stayed sober and tried to be the responsible adult, or the fact that she carries out her commander's orders perfectly and is trusted to extend her own influence in these orders to the stripes. she's obviously very capable and mature

but... she also runs into battle with her boobies out, kills a witcher if he insults her dad boss, and does the horizontal hokey pokey with said witcher after he proved his combat skills.

yeah she's gonna seem a bit reckless, but everything she does, whether very well thought out or completely stupid, is means to the same goal.

for lots of adhders (including myself), this looks like getting from point a to point b in the weirdest way possible. but if the serotonin train is in the station, you don't wait and see it's exact itinerary. you get on the damn train. it doesn't matter if the train is stopping at going-to-war-naked junction or responsible-adult-railroad, it's the train you caught and it always gets you to your destination.

also her hyperempathy screams some sort of neurodivergence. she's clearly dedicated to doing what's best for her family, that's like her primary motivation for everything. but even when her team isn't relevant, like in trying to help moril or going after the wild hunt, ves still helps in any way she can

similarly, we have that sweet sweet emotional disregulation. ves' swings from angry to crying to collected definitely also point at serious trauma, but that becomes a big chicken/egg situation with adhd so it's hard to pinpoint the exact reason.

philippa

philippa is definitely autistic. reason 1 sarcasm. "triss stop thinking with your vagina and get ahold of yourself" is the pinacle of autistic humour in ways i can't totally explain it just is

also the super high correlation between being queer and autistic

(and evil haha jk unless...)

philippa gives me such strong cluster b personality disorder vibes. her actions and behaviours the whole thanedd scene were so mad relatable plus she's just too sexy not to claim for the b team (co-captain @plutorightsbabey)

your can of worms comment made me think of this but philippa is a picky eater. like idk shit about what owls eat (got distracted by this lad when i tried to find out), but i can't imagine they'll be fine with anything

he's so very precious

we're digressing here but i know for a fact philippa smells amazing. like.. she smells how fancy italian cars look. and how lingerie is pronounced. some might say intoxicating.

i'm sorry i can't help but hc the morally grey canonically queer hot sorceress as nd and fall in love with her

#anon this was probably like 8 months ago #i'm so sorry #but jt is kinda fucking hilarious that the ask abt adhd took almost a year to get done #ves tag #philippa tag #hc tag #anon #shaun the sheep talks to humans #haven't got a fucking queue

[gayregis]

1/2 ngl i think many western witcher book fans make the series out to be way more progressive than it actually is. part of it is mistranslation ofc, like for example with the 'man was not made for monogamy' bit where the use of singular man is rlly misleading and it should be "a man" or "men aren't" bc originally it's just dandelion being a sexist cheating dick and not some openminded progressive the way ive seen this interpreted sometimes, But

2/2 there's a lot of plainly bad takes out there that i feel are partially an issue of just worldviews and circumstances. like obv its not some Enormous difference and im not saying that "hurr durr westerners Bad and Stupid" or whatever but in regard to stuff like lgbt issues or coding or feminism ive seen so many bonkers horrible takes that like. with my experience as a closeted polish trans homo are truly fucking concerning in how naive they are

(fucking 3/2 bc i can't count) but like. just from the top of my head the godawful girlboss femdom #feminism shit ppl pull with yennefer bc they cant admit shes not all that well written and that shes borderline abusive at times, people trying to make sapkowski out to be pro-lgbt which is fucking baffling with the blatant homophobic storylines/writing, the "GERALT IS CODED X" shit when hes a blatant cishet whiteman power/oppression fantasy rolled up in one like. idk im really tired and its a lot

(4/2 ok i SWEAR im done im sorry) like. i think what im trying to say is that i feel like theres a lot of like. kinda rose-colored-glasses type of naivety and a lack of understanding of how the general reality of life for women, lgbt people etc. is way different in poland and further east than it is in the states or britain or even fucking germany, so people just take very blatant bigotry and uncritically try to twist it to fit their western uwu pseudofeminism and whatnot

no, LITERALLY THIS. i think [mostly western] progressives on tumblr especially want and long to see  progressive messages or representation where there simply are not any, or where the messages that are there are largely milquetoast centrist and not actually saying anything radical. (this post i made is more specific to an aspect topic but it voices some of my opinions on it)

i think it’s of course fine to have separate interpretations of the characters / rewritten characters in your mind that you appreciate, but in order to do that you need to engage with the source material and acknowledge the reality of what is written on the page (for instance, what you said about yennefer being a #girlboss when in canon she struggles with characterization at times and especially in the short stories comes off poorly, almost abusive, and her and geralt’s relationship is definitely not some kind of #goals). 

i think that there are some redeeming features and it’s not all bad, everything is very grey - for instance, sapkowski wrote yennefer poorly when it came to her first introduction to ciri, but then her training of ciri that immediately follows it is much better. and geralt is a power fantasy in his heterosexuality and protagonist-isms, but spends the saga in turmoil over trying to protect ciri because he’s a good father. everything kind of blends together and does not just mean ONE thing only, because it’s understandable by many people. for instance, geralt being mopey and upset that he’s abnormal can be related to by MANY different types of people. 

i think the issue is when people state that characters are definitely “coded” one way or another (not like, actual canon relationships, like saying ciri is gay because she had relations with mistle... that’s a can of sapkowski-worms for another day... i’m saying, for example, arguing that dandelion is intended to be coded as gay because he wears colorful clothes or something like this). i don’t think it’s very valuable at all to look at the content and say “sapkowski intended THIS,” because i don’t find much value in what mr. centrist sells-the-rights-to-netflix had to say. i find value in what you have to say, personally, and what it means to you. 

sorry to speak about my minor again for like 0.2 seconds (it’s relevant) but it reminds me a lot of posts on here about ancient greece or rome that are like “ancient greeks and romans were GAY, we have ALWAYS BEEN HERE!!” like you really want to claim kinship with the violent imperialists who practice pedastry...? or posts claiming that X female figure, such as sappho, was a feminist. we call it an anachronistic interpretation: it’s a completely different time period, context, culture, and intention than what we understand in a modern sense. you can’t project your modern and western culture onto ancient greece and rome, because they are ancient societies.

similarly, i don’t think that you can take american feminism from 2020 and apply it to a fantasy series written by a polish man in the 1990s. you may reinterpret the characters how you so choose, of course you will have favorite characters and appreciate specific ones for specific things... but you cannot say that sapkowski’s intentions were specifically this or that as you understand them yourself in your own life, and you cannot do this with very many authors unless you are the author yourself. 

specifically for the witcher because as you said, there is a cultural misunderstanding: “[a] type of naivety and a lack of understanding of how the general reality of life for women, lgbt people etc. is way different in poland and further east than it is in the states or britain or even fucking germany.”  

i think in the english-speaking progressive social media circles currently for a few years there has been this very big hyperfocus on good representation for people of color, for women, for lgbt people, and in this quest for representation many are willing to overlook blatant bigotry in hopes of claiming another character ‘for the gays’ or whatever. for example dandelion hating on yennefer in a little sacrifice because she is old - i’m pretty sure sapkowski didn’t write this because he intended it to be like dandelion is gay and jealous of her! you can headcanon that if you like, but don’t claim that’s what it is and nothing else, because you need to acknowledge the misogyny present there.

i think it’s dangerous because you end up parading the original content around like it’s fantasic and progressive when it’s really not. i encourage people to have lgbt headcanons if they choose, but you really shouldn’t be saying it was sapkowski’s 100% intention to make this character X or Y because you really must take the writing into context with the author’s biases, life, culture, setting...

#ask #anon #the witcher #sorry for bolding statements but since this is a long post i wanted to bold what i thought were the most important points

[hungarianbee]

sightless but steady

A/N: I wanted to try my hand on Warritt the All-Seeing for a while now. Writing a blind character who’s not *really* blind is both fun and a challenge. I have a lot of feelings about the Viper witchers, and so I snuck a lot of headcanons (about Ivar, Warritt, Letho, Auckes) into this piece. You can read about them in detail at the end of the fic. TW for: mention of non-descriptive torture

It is a relatively quiet night at the Blood Gate Keep. The young adepts went to sleep hours ago, safely tucked away in their quarters. To the average witcher, Gorthur Gvaed lays dormant, echoing the silence of its occupants.

But not to Warritt. In his room, the Viper bundles himself in furs, sitting in front of the lit hearth with his back to it. The fire’s heat seeps into his bones, touching his exposed neck, and he tilts his head back into the sensation. To him, the keep always feels just a tad cold. It’s nothing, compared to the Bear’s Haern Caduch or the Wolves’ Kaer Morhen in winter, but the Vipers’  mutations keep their temperatures lower than the other school’s.

As he flicks his fingers, his magic activates the Supirre Sign again, keeping it steady with years of practice. Just like that, the night comes alive around him.

Beneath the sound of the firewood cracking, he notices that there are rats in the walls again, scratching at the stones with their tiny claws. He makes a mental note to alert Evil-Eye to their presence later, then moves on. A floor beneath him, Gerring of Kharkiv is playing with his knives, just as usual. The fast tack-tack-tack reverberates in Warritt’s ears as the knives embed themselves in the wooden surface of the upturned table. A mouser’s yowls break it up, and he pushes the Sign further, taking note of the steady heartbeats of the snakelets. As he concentrates, he feels several that are too fast to be asleep. Auckes, he thinks. And Letho.

Warritt shucks his furs, taking one with him and folding the rest on his unused bed. With a reverse Igni, lowers the temperature of the hearth, leaving the wood smoldering. The smoke of it settles in his barely open mouth, sticking to his palate. Throwing the fur over his shoulder, he opens his door, just as Ivar Evil-Eye takes a corner in his direction, the scent of blood and iron trailing after him like an avenging wraith.

Up until this point, the Viper Grandmaster was pacing his office, as was his bad habit, then changed course, and took a detour around the Keep to the snakelets’ sleeping quarters. To air his head, most likely, and to make sure that everyone was safe. That Letho was safe. There is a lot of weight on the witcher’s shoulders that he refuses to share with them, he knows. Some days, when the pacing gets agitated and Warritt can hear his rapid breathing when he talks his way over an issue, he thinks that this will be Evil-Eye’s end. A fire can only burn bright for so long without kindling.

“Master Evil-Eye,” he greets quietly.

The thumping of Gerring’s weapons stop. A shift of skin on fabric as the man looks up, breathing carefully steadied. He’s listening. Warritt minimizes his Sign to the palm of his hand. He’s been told the yellow glow is quite noticeable. “Anything I can help you with?”

Evil-Eye shakes his head to himself, but breaks the motion midway. A heavy sigh. “I can’t deal with the brats tonight,” he admits. His tone is weary. Warritt tries to imagine what his expression must look like, but it’s been too long and the visuals appear murky in his mind. Something that might match the scents of frustration and fatigue. After all, Evil-Eye doesn’t have to hide from him; he can’t see. Then, the taste of ash ignites, becomes spicy with rekindled rage. “Did you know about Letho of Gulet?”

He can’t even finish the sentence as Warritt flashes his fangs at the leader. The hiss that leaves between his teeth rattles in his throat. “No! I would have stopped Daibesyck. Any of us would have. And you know that.”

In his rise of emotion, his Supirre sputters out. He casts it again with one hand, the other going up to rake through his curls.

Evil-Eye stands still, like a statue. Then a new tension enters his shoulders, and he turns away. “I’ve dealt with Daibesyck,” he states. Disdain colours his voice. “The worm wanted me to thank him. To acknowledge what a marvelous achievement he did, finding the perfect subject for his little successful experiment.” He breathes through his venom. “I paid him in kind. He stopped screaming a few hours ago.”

Warritt’s face tightens, even as dark satisfaction courses through him. He knows. He heard. But it wasn’t aimed at him; it’s a confirmation for their little eavesdropper. This time tomorrow everyone will know that they are one mage down.

“How’s he?”

Evil-Eye cracks his neck to the side. “He’s feverish, still. He asked for you.”

“Then I will be there.” And that’s that. Warritt lengthens his steps, taking the fur beneath one arm, the other still pulsing with Supirre. The Grandmaster matches him until they reach Letho’s quarters, where he lags behind, stopping just by the door.

The blind witcher makes his way to the bed. The scent of sickness leaves a sour note on his tongue, but that’s not his main concern. Because in this close proximity, he’s sure of it - Letho’s usual outline changed.

As he climbs into the bed he bundles the furs under Letho’s bald head, hoping that his own scent will ease the young witcher. A stone sits in Warritt’s stomach; last time he’s been in his presence, the kid had a crown of soft curls. His calloused hands slide on broad, impossibly muscled shoulders that emanate a heat that is uncharacteristic to witchers, then cup the back of Letho’s neck gently.

“Letho,” he calls, and the snakelet twitches under him, turning towards his chest. He can barely fit. A soft sound escapes him, almost a sob, and his hands come up to shield his still sensitive eyes. Warritt immediately releases his Sign to plunge the room in darkness, shushing him. “It’s Warritt, bud. I am here, just as you asked.”

“Warritt,” Letho parrots back, slurring. Without the Sign, Warritt is not prepared for the fingers prodding at the heavy scarring by his eyes, but he lets it happen anyway.

With impossible strength, Letho pulls Warritt down and curls his arms around him in a constricting hug. Warritt stifles his wheeze, breathing through it, and he presses closer still, wrapping himself around the kid as much as he can, tucking him under his chin and tangling their legs. One of his hands comes up to squeeze Letho’s nape. The pressure seems to calm the young witcher, and he mindlessly bites down on Warritt’s leathers on his shoulder, just to hold him still. Warritt notes absentmindedly that Evil-Eye slipped away when he wasn’t paying attention.

They stay like that for a long time. Eventually, Letho’s breathing evens out, slipping into an uneasy sleep. His muscles twitch and release, and Warritt rearranges them so he’s plastered to the snakelet’s back, hugging him tightly, not minding the cold sweat.

“Auckes,” he calls softly. He hears the creak of soft leathers in the rafters as the boy shifts warily. He drops down, landing without difficulty.

“Bloede,” the little snakelet curses in Elder, silently but with feeling. “How did you know I was here? You didn’t even use your Sign.”

“Language,” Warritt chides. “You were so loud I could hear you from a tower away. You were lucky Master Evil-Eye was in a cordial mood, he would have had you for breakfast.”

“Not true,” Auckes sulks.

The boy’s radiating disbelief warms him. He gestures with one hand, beckoning, and Auckes slips onto the bed, curling over Letho. The boy shakes a little and Warritt scents the residue of distress on him, so he presses a warm hand between his shoulder blades, drawing slow circles.

Auckes presses into his touch, then blurts out. “If I asked you, would you shave my head?”

Warritt doesn’t stop his motions, despite his surprise. “Why would you ask that?”

For a long moment, Auckes doesn’t say anything, just clenches his fist in Letho’s sleeping shirt. He smooths the soft material between his fingers anxiously. “Letho cried ,” he whispers it like a secret, and his tone belies his astonishment. Letho never cries. “He saw his reflection, you know.”

“I don’t know, Auckes,” prompts Warritt gently, lying through his teeth. “Why would he be upset because of that?”

“He’s big. And bald. He tried to hug Serrit and hurt him. Twas an axi-” he trips on the word in his haste, then tries again, slowly. “Ac-ci-dent. He didn’t mean it, I know. It scared him. And Serrit said that he wasn’t mad, so it’s okay.”

Warritt hides his sad smile, endeared by Auckes’ sharp perception and big heart. “Aye,” he breathes.

Another beat passes between them.

“I want you to cut my hair, so Letho knows it’s okay, too. That he’s not alone.” Auckes’ voice is so very small, like the breeze in Tir Tochair’s sheltered meadows.

Warritt’s throat constricts. His fingers follow the thin braid that hangs on each side of  Auckes’ face, then cards into his soft ponytail.

“Alright,” he rasps. “Alright.”

--------- * ---------

Note: Auckes canonically can speak really good Elder. The little curse word “Bloede” can be translated to “bloody hell”.

Headcanons:

Warritt is the big-brother of the keep - he’s both a blind badass and the resident kidwrangler (and everyone clearly knows it)

Warritt is a genius - this is kiiind of canon, but regardless: he has an unorthodox thought process; he likes thinking outside of the box, and that’s how he isn’t bothered by his blindness and modified an already existing Sign (Supirre in canon; and also Igni in this fic)

Vipers are not shy of physical touch, on the contrary! - a little bit of cutagen here; Vipers like to coil up together in almost constricting hugs. Even those who haven’t gone through the Trials adopt this habit; the physical touch (hugs) is something they can claim as their own good thing

Letho went through the Grasses twice, like Geralt (aka twicegrassed) - compared to the rest of the School, Letho is an outlier. I explained his proportions with him surviving the Trials twice

Ivar was unaware of the further experimentations, and he flipped - a hc i adopted from @lookoutrogue. Ivar himself went through multiple Trials, that’s how he ended up with his mutated eye. My throwaway mage OC, Daibesyck was tortured to death because he went over the invisible line Ivar carved, hurting one of his own and disrespecting his authority

Auckes shaved his head in solidarity for Letho - originally i thought he would have done it when he was older, but tiny Auckes said no, i wanna do it now

Gerring of Kharkiv wasn’t supposed to appear, but he didn’t budge. So I guess now he’s an insomniac old witcher who likes to waste time and furniture with knife-throwing *shrug*

#my shit #the witcher #warritt the all-seeing #ivar evil-eye #letho #auckes #gerring of kharkiv #school of the viper #continent cake shop #little auckes made me cry #tell me what y'all think #i'll crosspost this into AO3 in a bit

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

LIST OF FANDOMS

HERE YOU CAN FIND ALL FANDOMS I AM IN AND...

WHAT KIND OF REQUESTS I ACCEPT FOR EACH INDIVIDUAL ONE OF THEM.

THE CHARACTERS BELOW ARE JUST THOSE I AM MOST FAMILIAR WITH.

-

THE WITCHER

headcanon, ships, ask game, character alphabet

geralt of rivia, yennefer of vengerberg, cirilla of cintra, triss merigold, dandelion, keira metz, philippa eilhart.

-

DRAGON AGE

headcanon, ships, ask game, character alphabet, scenario alphabet

alistair, morrigan, leliana, sten, oghren, wynne, zevran.

varric, isabela, merril, carver, bethany, anders, fenris, aveline.

cassandra, josephine, cullen, iron bull, blackwall, sera, cole, dorian, vivienne, solas.

-

THE HOBBIT

platonic!ships, ask game

thranduil, legolas, tauriel, bard, smaug, gandalf, gollum, bilbo, thorin, kili, fili, balin.

-

LORD OF THE RINGS

platonic!ships, ask game

frodo, sam, pippin, merry, aragorn, gimli, legolas, gandalf, gollum, galadriel, arwen, boromir, faramir, elrond.

-

ASSASSINS CREED

ask game

jacob frye, evie frye.

-

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

ships, ask game, character alphabet

connor, markus, kara, alice, luther, north.

-

FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE

ships, ask game, character alphabet

cloud strife, aerith gainsborough, tifa lockhart.

-

AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER

headcanon, platonic!ships, character alphabet, scenario alphabet

zuko, aang, sokka, katara, toph, suki, azula, mai, ty lee.

-

MARVEL

ask game

loki odinson, thor odinson, hela, heimdall, tony stark, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, bruce banner, stephen strange, vision, peter parker, steve rogers, bucky barnes, peter quill, mantis, gamora, nebula, t'challa.

-

GAME OF THRONES

ships, ask game, character alphabet

cersei lannister, jamie lannister, tyrion lannister, tywin lannister, jon snow, sansa stark, arya stark, bran stark, rickon stark, catelyn stark, eddard stark, robert baratheon, joffrey baratheon, margaery tyrell, loras tyrell, daenerys targaryen, viserys targaryen, missandei, grey worm, daario naharis, khal drogo, yara greyjoy, theon greyjoy, brienne of tarth, tormund.

-

VIKINGS

ships, ask game, character alphabet, oneshots, scenario alphabet

ivar ragnarsson, ubbe ragnarsson, hvitserk ragnarsson, bjorn ragnarsson, sigurd ragnarsson, aslaug, helga, torvi, floki, ragnar, lagertha, gyda, rollo, siggy, gisla, judith, alfred, aethelred, athelstan, ecbert.

-

MODERN FAMILY

ask game

jay pritchett, gloria delgado-pritchett, manny delgado-pritchett, fulgencio pritchett, claire dunphy, phil dunphy, haley dunphy, alex dunphy, luke dunphy, mitchell pritchett, cameron tucker, lily tucker-pritchett.

-

BROOKLYN 99

ask game

jake peralta, amy santiago, rosa diaz, charles boyle, gina linetti, terry jeffords, raymond holt, kevin cozner.

-

QUEENS GAMBIT

ask game

beth harmon, alma wheatley.

-

BRIDGERTON

ask game, platonic!ships

violet bridgerton, anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, daphne bridgerton, eloise bridgerton, fancesca bridgerton, gregory bridgerton, hyacinth briderton, simon basset, sienna rosso, prince friedrich, lady danbury, genevieve delacroix, queen charlotte, marina thompson, lord featherington, portia featherington, prudence featherington, philipa featherington, penelope featherington.

-

UMBRELLA ACADEMY

ask game, platonic!ships

vanya hargreeves, klaus hargreeves, diego hargreeves, ben hargreeves, alisson hargreeves, five hargreeves.

-

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN

ask game, platonic!ships

jack sparrow, will turner, elizabeth swann, hector barbossa.

-

GOOD OMENS

ask game

crowley, aziraphale, gabriel, anathema device, newton pulsifer, adam young.

-

THE MORTAL INSTRUMENTS

ask game, platonic!ships

jace herondale, isabelle lightwood, max lightwood, alec lightwood, magnus bane, clarissa fairchild, simon lewis, sebastian morgenstern, jocelyn fray, maryse lightwood, robert lightwood, maia roberts, luke garroway.

-

THE INFERNAL DEVICES

ask game, platonic!ships

tessa grey, will herondale, jem carstairs, gabriel lightwood, cecily herondale, gideon lightwood, charlotte branwell, sophie collins, jessamine lovelace.

-

THE DARK ARTIFICIES

ask game, platonic!ships

emma carstairs, julian blackthorn, mark blackthorn, helen blackthorn, livia blackthorn, tiberius blackthorn, drusilla blackthorn, octavian blackthorn, cristina mendoza rosales, diego rocío rosales, kieran, diana wrayburn.

-

THE CRUEL PRINCE

ask game, platonic!ships

cardan greenbriar, jude duarte, taryn duarte, vivianne duarte, nicasia, valerian, locke.

-

PEAKY BLINDERS

ask game, platonic!ships, character alphabet

thomas shelby, arthur shelby, jon shelby, finn shelby, ada shelby, polly gray, michael gray, alfie solomons.

-

ARCANE

ask game, platonic!ships

jinx, vi, viktor, heimerdinger, caitlyn, ekko, mel, jayce, silco.

-

FRIENDS

ask game, platonic!ships

monica geller, ross geller, rachel green, chandler bing, joey tribbiani, phoebe buffay.

-

ASK GAME

send me a character and i’ll answer the following things about them:

general opinion: who??? | please die already | don’t like them | meh | they’re fine i guess | i like them | i love them | actual love of my life | 10/10 would die for them

details: first impression | impression now | favorite line | favorite relationship | favorite moment | favorite thing about them | least favorite thing about | unpopular opinion

#game of thrones imagine #avatar imagine #dragon age imagine #vikings imagine #ivar imagine #the mortal instruments

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 8

"I dare you to lick that!"

"I dare you to eat that!"

Those two phrases had been spoken off and on as Geralt and Jaskier travelled on the Path, looking for contracts.

Geralt had pulled into a gas station to refuel and take a p*ss break.

"I dare you to lick the toilet seat." Geralt said as he washed his hands.

Jaskier's head snapped towards him, incredulous. "Lick a gas staton toilet seat? I wouldn't even lick the toilet seat at home!"

"Ok, then I dare you to lick the urinal instead,"

Jaskier paled. "No! No, I'll lick the seat..." He went into the stall, Geralt following to confirm he actually did it. Jaskier faced the toilet seat.

It sat before him, stained, dingy, yellowed and cracked with age, and probably teeming with germs and diseases. And it probably hadn't been cleaned properly...ever.

"If I catch some godsd*mned horrible disease and die, it'll be on your head!"

"Hmm!"

*offended gasp* "What do you mean I've put my mouth on dirtier things?"

"Hm!"

"Yeah? Well, at least I knew where those things had been...er... At least I knew they were...knew I was the only one....er...."

"Fine. I see your point."

Jaskier crouched close to the commode and hesitated, staring at the filthy seat. The filthy seat with p*ss stains so thick, they looked like butter, and sh*t residue that would require a grinder and bleach to remove.

And oh, gods, was that gummy stuff what he thought it was???

He thought about backing out right then, but shoved the thought away. Julian Alfred Pankratz did not pull out back out!

Jaskier said a brief prayer, then closed his eyes and licked the toilet seat.

Geralt snapped a picutre with his phone. For documentation purpose. Yeah. It absolutely wasn't so he could send it to his brothers.

Jaskier immediately spat and splashed water from the sink faucet on his tongue, then rushed to Roach to disinfect his mouth with a little whiskey while Geralt went to fill up the gas tank.

The gas station attendand looked out the window a few minutes after the Witcher had paid and gone back outside, and saw him on his hands and knees next to his van.

Was he ill? Did he drop something?

No. As the attendant watched, confused as h*ll, the Witcher leaned down and licked an oil stain while his companion laughed. Then he got up, they both got in the van, and they drove away. Well, that was going to be a fun story to tell.

Geralt stopped in the next town for lunch. He sat at the table, looking over the restaraunt menu while he waited for his drink. He gripped the underside of the table with one hand to help pull himself closer, and put his hand in someone's chewing gum.

"I dare you to chew that!" Jaskier said, as Geralt went to pick the gum off his fingers with a paper napkin. Geralt made a face. He didn't really want to chew someone else's gum, but he didn't want the undesired consequence of getting kicked in the nads for turning down a dare. He was a Witcher, so he was immune to most diseases anyway, which worked out in his favor. A little A.B.C. gum wasn't going to kill him.

So Geralt chewed the pre-masticated gum.

"What does it taste like?" Jaskier whispered out of morbid curiosity.

"Hmm. Spearmint. Cigarettes..." Geralt rumbled as he chewed, "Cheese, or something sweet. I can't really place it. Oh, wait. Bad kidneys. Probably from diabeetes."

"That sucks for him." Jaskier said, not even questioning Geralt's analysis. It was a Witcher Thing.

"Her."

"You can stop now."

*smug hmmm.*

Later that day, Jaskier almost ate an earthworm Geralt found under a rock as they wandered through the woods, looking for nekkers.

Almost, because he ended up spitting it out after trying to be funny and suck it up like a spaghetti noodle. Geralt had doubled over laughing as Jaskier gagged on the worm. Jaskier's face had twisted up, and he'd made this humorus gargling noise before spitting the worm out.

Jaskier dared Geralt to lick a sticky substance off the side of a tree. It was probably sap. It was difficult tell. It wasn't particularly sap-colored, and didn't have that resin smell.

Geralt couldn't sense anything toxic about it, so he leaned in and licked the stream of goo. Hm. That was an odd flavor. It tasted kind of like...goat and something musky...

Geralt gagged and grabbed his canteene. He desperately started rinsing his mouth.

"What?" Jaskier asked, hovering between concern and confusion. Geralt babbled something about dryads and satyrs f***ing as he spat and gargled frantically. "That's not sap!" he screamed in lowercase.

Jaskier gasped, then ugly laughed, "You-you licked satyr nut!"

"Do you mind?" the tree grumbled in Elder, in a crabby tone, "I'm kind of worn out and would like to sleep!"

"You licked satyr nut off a treeussy!" Jaskier said to Geralt out of the corner of his mouth before addressing the dryad. Geralt elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"A thousand appologies! We didn't mean to disturb you," Jaskier paused to bow slightly before continuing, "My friend and I were just passing through, and we will be on our way now."

The tree grumbled and shook its branches in a shooing motion at them.

They quickly left.

Geralt spat periodically as they walked in silence, a vaguely haunted look on his face.

"Dare Truce?" Jaskier offered.

"Dare Truce."

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #twn #the witcher headcanon #the witcher modern au #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #error 404 brain not found headcanon #error 404 headcanon #brain not found headcanon

[laurelnose]

monster! parasites!

you know how a few days ago i said we weren’t going to talk about monster parasites? that was a fucking lie.

the basis of my monster parasite thoughts are: every organism comes with its own internal ecosystem that goes with them everywhere. it’s like having built-in friends! ergo, when monsters crossed over to the witcher dimension during the Conjunction of Spheres they must have brought many new and delightful parasites with them. you know what fiend manes are full of? MITES. you know what drowners got on their skin? COPEPODS. what can we do with this information? anything we want.

i promise there are no pictures below the cut. i have tried to put warnings on all my sources but click any of the links below at your own risk. warning for internal and external parasites of animals, monsters, humans, and witchers; parasites altering the behavior of their hosts; and probably general body horror. if you read the eating-liver-flukes post that’s probably a decent baseline for how revolting you will find this post. 

also, super obvious bias towards aquatic parasites as referents. my degree is fisheries science not terrestrial ecology so that’s primarily what i’m drawing on even though nearly all of the witcher monsters are terrestrial. there is a TON i’m missing here bc of that bias! specifically i really wish i could talk about how parasites of invasive species often act as co-invaders with their hosts and monsters definitely count as invasive species and would have majorly reshaped ecological interactions on the Continent but i don’t know enough about terrestrial ecosystems to speculate properly. (ETA: while i still think monsters would have majorly reshaped ecological interactions on the Continent, I don’t actually think they’re invasive species anymore!) hopefully you enjoy it anyways!

it is, hilariously, canon that parasites are used for alchemy. according to The Last Wish, the Temple of Melitele’s grotto grows a bunch of different “rare specimens—those which made up the ingredients of a witcher’s medicines and elixirs, magical philters and a sorcerer’s decoctions” and some of those specimens are, uh, “clusters of nematodes.” nematodes being parasitic roundworms. this is really funny because it’s so fucking weird. also everything else in this description is a plant or a fungus and nematodes are definitely animals? i choose to believe the world makes sense and nematodes aren’t plants in the witcherverse. therefore parasites are alchemical ingredients, it’s canon, give me more witchers digging through monster intestines in search of worms and put a nematode colony in the basement of corvo bianco please and thank you

this actually leads right into my personal favorite drowner headcanon (hello yes i’m tumblr user Socks Laurelnose and i am always thinking about drowners)—you know those bits where drowners kind of have red blotches in their skin? those are nematodes, actually, because i said so. the reference is Clavinema mariae, a nematode that infests English sole. the worms are basically harmless but they’re dark red and you can see them through the skin. it freaks people out and makes it hard to sell sole. (IMAGE WARNING: a picture of an infected flatfish. it looks mostly normal but there’s a dark red lesion near the fin.) said lesion is probably a coiled-up Clavinema. sole have so many of these, it’s not even funny (PDF article link, IMAGE WARNING for worms visible underneath skin of flatfishes. relevant images pointing out exactly how many worms on page 5). “but the red parts of drowners could just be flushed from blood”—no. worms. 

okay that was my main specific-parasite-for-specific-monster headcanon (except also succubi probably have a unique species of lice for their hairy legs. but that’s barely even a headcanon, basically all terrestrial vertebrates have a unique species of lice.) i wanted to start with it because i think that everyone should feel free to arbitrarily assign a totally benign but conceptually gross worm to their favorite monsters. why not, yanno? also it probably sets the tone for the rest of this post. 

carrying on: “what monsters might have nematodes, besides drowners,” you may be wondering? probably all of them! all of them are full of nematodes. nematodes are fucking everywhere. allow me to share a deeply unsettling quote from nematologist Nathan Cobb: 

“In short, if all the matter in the universe except the nematodes were swept away, our world would still be dimly recognizable, and if, as disembodied spirits, we could then investigate it, we should find its mountains, hills, vales, rivers, lakes, and oceans represented by a film of nematodes. The location of towns would be decipherable since, for every massing of human beings, there would be a corresponding massing of certain nematodes. Trees would still stand in ghostly rows representing our streets and highways. The location of the various plants and animals would still be decipherable, and, had we sufficient knowledge, in many cases even their species could be determined by an examination of their erstwhile nematode parasites.”

jesus christ! thanks nathan, I hate it. nematodes are usually both benign and microscopic, but we’re talking witchers, we want some parasites we can fuckin get our hands on. sperm whale placentas are sometimes infested with nematodes up to 28 feet long but only a centimeter in diameter (Wikipedia link, no images). like an incredibly awful spaghetti! we don’t really seem to know if this bothers the sperm whales. also, i unfortunately do not know enough about the size of whale organs to tell you how big the placenta is in relation to this worm. the point is: real big monster? REAL BIG NEMATODES.

moving on from nematodes—okay, you know, since i mentioned eating deer liver flukes at the start of this post, let’s just go there. real life flukes max out at about 3 inches long, but hypothetical monster flukes could be much bigger and equally edible if desired. (if you’re wondering what a liver fluke would taste like: the flukes feed on the liver and they have very few organs of their own, so they would taste basically just like liver, just also long and flat like a fruit roll-up. if you’re going there, a witcher should not eat any flatworm live. if they’re digging them out of cockatrice livers or whatnot they should kill them before munching or save to cook later. it would probably be safe to eat one live, but you know that cliche “their tongues battled for dominance”? handling a live flatworm is like a handling very strong and energetic tongue complete with slime, okay, it wouldn’t be nice.)

parasites often need more than one host to complete the life cycle—for instance, Leucochloridium paradoxum (VIDEO WARNING: you may have seen this, it’s the one that makes snail eyes pulsating & green) has a bird stage and a snail stage, and it makes the snails look and act really weird in order to attract the birds. parasites altering host behavior to attract the next host in the life cycle is pretty well-documented; for instance, there’s an eye fluke that can make fish swim near the surface where predators can eat them (New Scientist article link, images of a microscope slide & a normal-looking fish) and a tapeworm that does the same and makes the dark silver fish turn white (JSTOR article, no images). i posit that at least some monsters are accompanied by “ill omens” of animals looking or acting strangely because they become infected with a stage of one of the monster’s parasites—usually, the mechanism is that internal parasites lay eggs that are passed in feces & transmitted that way. witchers who are up on their parasite ecology might be able to identify what monster is hanging around by observing exactly what kind of freaky-looking animals or animal behavior is going on around the area!

(if geralt is involved you may desire to have him explain this totally non-supernatural mechanism for abrupt animal appearance or behavioral changes at excruciating length to the chagrin of all present. or maybe that’s just what i desire. it would be funny okay)

potentially even more hyperspecific application of dual-stage parasites: there’s a dinoflagellate parasite that, when it infects crabs, makes the meat chalky and bitter like aspirin (Smithsonian link, images of healthy crab and microscope slide). geralt hunts down dinner, digs in, and immediately sighs and grabs jaskier’s portion away from him to the poet’s complete bafflement before going to get his swords because judging by the flavor there’s definitely a shishiga nest in this forest. 

like. parasites are one of THE most hyperspecific things in biology. the majority of them have very specific hosts and life cycles, many of them are completely unique to a species, if you think a fictional parasite is too specific to be plausible you’re probably wrong, make it even more specific. “the witcher monster lore is so hyperspecific lol” IT AIN’T TRULY HYPERSPECIFIC UNTIL YOU CAN IDENTIFY EACH MONSTER SPECIES BY ITS UNIQUE PARASITIC LOAD, OKAY.

and, with regards to behavior-affecting parasites, before anyone brings up Cordyceps (Ophiocordyceps, as of 2008): yeah that sure is a thing! if you weren’t aware, just a couple of years ago we found out it actually is not a mind control fungus!! it bypasses the brain entirely and affects the muscles (Arstechnica article, Atlantic article—photos of fuzzy ants and electron microscope pictures of fungi). or as Ed Yong puts it, “The ant ends its life as a prisoner in its own body. Its brain is still in the driver's seat, but the fungus has the wheel.” which is. significantly worse than the brain thing. awesome!! i bet there would absolutely be similar fungal parasites of endrega and arachasae. real Ophiocordyceps still very much does not affect humans, but you know what, if plants can be cursed into becoming archespores and cultivated by mages i see no reason why mages could not also curse endrega fungus to affect humans, just saying

aaaand quickly back to hyperspecificity: monsters in different geographical areas having different abilities because of their symbionts. forktails in vicovaro acquire a bioluminescent symbiont in their diet that forktails in other parts of the continent can’t get, and they can create flashes of light? that’s sure gonna fuck a witcher on Cat up when he comes in the cave expecting a normal forktail. (geographic location affecting bioluminescence is a thing that actually happens in midshipman fish—Wikipedia link, no parasites.) geographically-dependent symbionts can also produce different toxins and such for their hosts! this isn’t exactly a parasitism thing per se (although parasites are also symbionts because ‘symbiosis’ refers to two organisms in close association not two organisms in positive association) but like. it’s cool okay ecology is so cool

writing fic and tired of all these same-old monsters-of-the-week? quick and easy way to spice up either the horror factor or just make the hunt stand out slightly: just add parasites!! i know i’ve read fics where monsters were described with distinguishing old wounds. you can do the same with parasites! i would fucking swoon over a detail like an ancient water hag’s eyes glowing in the dark, one of them marred by a dangling parasite—geralt notes the blind spot and presses his advantage. (Wikipedia link, no images: this one is referencing an aquatic copepod called Ommatokoita.) also, please put barnacles on skelliger drowners, i want it so badly. just—some percentage of monsters should be Extra Grody on the inside and/or the outside, that’s how nature works. spicing up a mundane hunt by making the monster a little extra gross for its species is Valid, is what I’m saying.

also, every single time frozen specimens with obvious fungal/ectoparasite infections come into the lab we absolutely always take extra close-up pictures of those suckers and make sure everyone else gets to see them. witchers bringing field sketches and notes of the weirdest shit they found on the path back for winter. lambert declares they’ll never know if this alleged fiend tumor was a fungus or mange because geralt sucks at drawing. eskel, the man who hauled a katakan corpse all the way up the mountain so he could dissect it, produces actual skin samples of his own encounters for examination, possibly in the middle of dinner. this elicits mixed reactions.

quick detour into preservation, since I went there—witchers are probably immune to parasites that infect humans by virtue of having pretty different biology to begin with, and probably immune to parasitic infections from other sources by virtue of superhumanly boosted immune systems and all the poison they put into their bodies on a regular basis. picking up a monster parasite would probably not be a big deal for witchers, either in that they have total immunity or that they would only be minimally and briefly affected, but the field of monster biology is likely such that they probably just don’t actually know what would happen to them in the majority of cases. this has potential as a source of battle stories and/or stories intended to freak out trainees, i think. therefore, out of caution, a witcher harvesting/preparing parts for alchemy might want to be sure to treat them first. personally i think all monster parts should be preserved immediately anyways to avoid attracting necrophages, and given that alchemical concoctions in witcherverse are alcohol-based, preservation in strong alcohol is probably the best way to maintain potency and kill basically everything. (cons: alcohol is SUPER heavy and jars are fragile. tissues or organs which are thicker than perhaps half an inch or an inch require additional preparation for the alcohol to penetrate properly. other preservation methods are more efficient for travel. depends on how soon your witcher intends to use or offload their stash.)

also, here’s an absolutely wild marine parasite that would make it worth a witcher’s while to make certain everything was dead! pearlfishes are long eel-like fishes that live inside the anus and respiratory organs (which are attached to the anus) of sea cucumbers, and they have pretty nasty teeth (PDF article link, IMAGE WARNING: dissected sea cucumbers literally stuffed to the gills with pearlfish). the highest number of pearlfish discovered in a single sea cucumber was sixteen (ResearchGate article, free PDF; no images). a different fact: we discovered tiger sharks eat each other in the womb because a researcher got bitten by a fetal tiger shark while he was dissecting the mother (NYT link, no images or parasites). what i’m saying is: parasites are often very small relative to the host and usually harmless to things rummaging around inside, but what if the monster’s parasites were also monstrous. give me a monster that has to be very dead or when you start rummaging around for alchemy ingredients the things in its intestines will lunge out and bite you. 

what happens if a human becomes infected with a monster parasite? bad things, probably, i mentioned before that parasites in the wrong host, if they don’t just die, often super fuck things up internally (if you get tapeworms outside of the intestine where they’re supposed to be... it’s not good y’all. CDC link, no images). host-jumping for parasites is actually fairly rare since most of them are highly specialized for their hosts, but it does happen. humans are very not my strong suit so i’m not going to dwell on this but it is entirely possible that something like necrophage infestations or monster-contaminated water sources or just being a little too involved on a witcher’s monster hunt could produce strange parasitic diseases in humans. up to you how well-known and/or how clouded in superstition these effects might be! opportunities for hideous whump? gross body horror? messy and horrifying parasite-driven behavioral changes? terrifying and potentially prolonged uncertainty over what the issue actually is because of minimal information about parasites? the decision whether or not to dose with a witcher potion? excellent possibilities.

okay last one, just because i think it would be fun: myxosporeans and sirens. Myxos are a parasitic relative of jellyfish that produce whirling disease in baby salmon. whirling disease causes neurological and skeletal damage and has a pretty high mortality rate, but it also makes infected fish do this, well, whirling behavior and it’s honestly fascinating. (video link: a pretty normal-looking young trout spinning like a fuckin top). imagine a siren doing that in the sky. i just think myxos are neat!

tl;dr: extra grody hyperspecific biology of monsters!!!

#kaer morhen biology of monsters 101 #fic reference #parasites cw #VERY parasites cw #body horror cw #i have a bunch of new followers who i think came for library content and to you i am so sorry #half the time i am yelling about libraries but the other half of the time i am yelling about the GROSSEST bio shit

[lunavadash-creates]

Drunk Olivia was your first frabble about her! How could you forget about it! It was so short, but so adorable at the same time! But! I was thinking.. How do Olivia, Amara and Mira look? I know more or less, but can you give more details? The more details, the better. It is for science, ofc.

It is not that I don’t like Haytham. I just have mixed emotions about him which makes me more neutral. I am not too excited for him, something is lacking in his character. I don’t know what. The same goes for Arno and Eivor. Maybe because I feel there is a lot of more potential and game developers didn’t do anything more about it.

Buuuut, your latest headcanons. Woooah Babes! They were REALLY imaginative. Connor - I couldn’t imagine different headcanons for him. Edward? After second thought - you are totally right. I can imagine it all. Let’s be honest. THOSE TATTOOS. I live for them. Summing up, we all need shirtless Edward on a daily basis. I am not sure about Shay and Haytham, maybe because I haven’t really thought about it before. They have such a cold aura around themselves, but maybe it’s just me. But on the other side.. Don’t judge a book by it’s cover! Shay is really, really handsome and your smut with him as the main character left some fantasies and imagines. Him being possessive is on point tho. Kinky Haytham? Interesting..

I would love to play Genshin. I really do. But.. After all these years I finally bought The Witcher games. All of them. And well.. Yes, that’s it. I bought them. That’s all. I have no courage to tell my friends about the purchase because they would literally force me to play lol. I loved the books! And since I read them before watching the Netflix series I am quite disappointed. But I am watching to see Eskel. Please, give me my man already. T_T

Thank heavens that you tolerate tattoos on others. I can sleep peacefully knowing that you won’t judge me and think lower of me. My granny didn’t speak to me for a few days because I did it. I am kinda nervous about what she will do after she sees my second one.. It will definitely be more visible.

Have I ever told you that I HATE rain and wind combined together. Because I hate with all my heart. The weather outside is tragic right now. I have no idea how I will make it to the vet tomorrow.

I have some music recommendations!

First of all, have you heard AURORA’s version of Rasputin? Gods, I love it so much!

Also:

Manchester Orchestra - The Silence

Paloma Faith - Only Love Can Hurt Like This

Lola Marsh - She’s a rainbow (and every other song by them. I love this band with all my heart)

Ghost - Enter Sandman

🔪

AAaaaa, you can laugh but I really don't remember! I even scrolled through my Tumblr and found nothing. I remember writing about Amara. Anyway, you see? Brain worms 😂

As for how they look... Olivia is a ginger, Irish girl. She has average height, a few dots on her nose, rosy cheeks and laughs a lot! She is a happy girl, full of love in her heart, loving nice, fluffy, soft and warm things. Amara is half English, half Arab so she is mixed race. She has darker skin in a similar shade to Altair (he is also mixed after all. I think his mother was also English). She has long black hair, green eyes. She usually wears male clothes. Mira has hair in a shade of a chestnut so it's brown but under the sun it looks golden. She has a typical Slavic look. She is pear-shaped and has bigger breasts and hips, her legs are a bit shorter than those of English women, she has a round face and always wears long braids, sometimes with flowers in them. I get your feeling about Haytham and the rest. Tbh I have mixed feelings about Arno because I hate Elise and I think he deserved so much better. I'm just sad the world kick his ass that hard. Well, you can always get Genshin because it's free! BUt I want to know your opinions of Witcher 1 & 2! Especially 2 and the choice you will make! I'm curious about it! Also, I love my man Zoltan. I love how dwarves swear all the time, they make me laugh so much! I'm sorry about your Granny ;; I hope she will accept your choices because tattoos look amazing. I mean on others. Not on me 😂 And seriously I love tattoos on others, sometimes I even try to gather courage and compliment people on them (I'm a shy bean but sometimes a tattoo is so amazing that I go to strangers only to tell them how epic they look like). I'm sure you will look amazing, incredible and beautiful. Rain and wind? That's a big no no! I hate that! I hate getting wet like that. I hate wind. I hate cold. But I love my blanket ;; Thank you for the music recommendations! I'll listen to the mand tell you what i think 💜 Stay safe and warm KNifey!

#knifey #knifey my beloved #ask

[seanfalco]

Creator Tag Game 2020

RULES: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works 💛

Thanks for tagging me @ficsandcatsandficsandcats & @seancekitsch!

1. Playing With Fire + Burning Out 🔥

(I’m counting these as one, since they’re part of the same series) PWF was the first real long fic I’ve actually completed in a long time and I’m really proud of that, bc up until now I’ve had a terrible habit of starting fics and losing steam and then leaving them unfinished.

This was the series that really kind of started it all this year, I mean, before that I had written quite a bit, but not nearly with the same drive, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be without it. I’ve made so many friends/mutuals/amazing followers bc of it and I can’t wait for S3 to come out so I can continue the story. I’ve never felt like a very strong angst writer, but this fic has proven me wrong and I’m kind of in awe that I’ve written it.

2. Bad Kids 🚬

The longest fic I’ve written this year in terms of word count. It was a fun challenge to play within the boundaries of Misfits canon to add my reader character and I really love the character I’ve created. All in all this fic was just plain fun. Going into it I was hella nervous about writing for Nathan, and ended up finding that his voice is one of the easiest and most entertaining for me to write.

3. Kinktober💦

I couldn’t choose just one piece bc I really think all of them were strong, so I’m going to say the whole series. While I didn’t produce a piece for every single day, I did include almost every prompt within the 9 fics I did write and I felt like they were prompts/kinks that I had never really written before. I enjoyed pushing my envelope and finding new things that I really enjoyed writing about.

4. A New Beginning 📷

Sean Falco has easily become my comfort character of 2020 and writing for him is honestly really therapeutic. I still have a long way to go with this fic and it’s not gunna be all fluffy sunshine and roses and I’m really excited to get to the angst that’s looming around the corner.

5. Not What This Is 💫

I figure I can’t cheat and use series for all of them, so I’m choosing at least one oneshot that I felt was really strong. This fic just kinda wormed its way into my head after watching Geostorm for the first time and I was honestly kinda blown away by the amount of love it got and how much I love writing Duncan. I hadn’t gotten to write an enemies/rivals to lovers fic in a while and it’s one of my favourite tropes. The smut here was a little rougher than I usually write, but I really enjoyed how sexy it turned out and I’m hella excited to continue this storyline in the new year.

Honourable Mention: The Witcher Punk!AU 🎸

This was the second collaboration I’ve ever gotten to work on and I loved every second of it. Getting to help create this world with @ficsandcatsandficsandcats was SO fun and I will always cherish our late nights talking headcanons, fitting everything together, and fleshing out the inner workings of Valdo and Aev’s relationship.

Aev was the first new oc I’d created this year and yeah, I do count Valdo as basically an oc as well, especially Punk!Valdo. They are both near and dear to my heart and without them I probably wouldn’t have fallen back in love with Robert and moved on to write for his other characters. So truly you can all thank Punk!au for all the fics that followed.

Tagging w/o obligation: @midnightseance @the-novel-on-the-left @falcor-thee-luck-dragon @badsext @sokkasdarling @robertsheehanownsmyass @elliethesuperfruitlover @super-unpredictable98 @iamsexytrash @miss-kittys-magical-library @ma-sulevin

#creator tag 2020 #joz talks #my writing #i can’t believe how much i wrote this year #there were so many other things i wanted to add #bc i’m really happy with almost everything lol #sorry i got kinda wordy #i’m just kinda proud

[wzrdn]

Oligochaeta

In which Regis attempts to reconnect with vampires after his regeneration.

No warnings apply, mention of anxiety.

Word count: 1156

It’s been almost 10 years since I’ve written a fanfiction, so please go easy on me. I hope this is received well, and I am open to critique or suggestions :) 

Written for @witcher-regis and inspired by their headcanon. Enjoy!

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Early spring in southern Toussaint, 1272.

-----------

It had been well over a century since he last celebrated a traditional vampire holiday with his tribe, and Regis had been equally nervous as he was excited.

When Detlaff approached the topic with him it was as the two were collecting herbs by the waxing moonlight. A laugh had erupted from Detlaff’s chest when Regis lit up with excitement. He left the following morning to procure suitable wardrobe for Regis. Detlaff returned later with a finely embroidered carnelian doublet and black breeches, and helped tailor the garments to fit properly to Regis’ form. He wore them for the next three days straight, much to Detlaff’s amusement.

On the day of the full moon, Regis’ excitement began to ebb and was soon replaced by a growing anxiety.

Nervous energy manifested itself through Regis picking at his sleeves absentmindedly, as the two made their way along the path south of Mère-Lachaiselongue. He missed his satchel and wished he had remembered to wear it, if for no other reason than to have something to fidget with.

The celebrations of the Worm Moon were for deepening of familial and pack bonding, and Regis wondered if he would be accepted by his brethren after his extended absence. There was also the matter of his controversial view of treating humans as equals, something which a majority of vampires viewed with disgust. Should any violent conflicts arise, he doubted his ability to defend himself against an onslaught of angry higher vampires. Regis was still in regenerative stages. He was able to walk about; shift into mist, and even into some bestial forms, but nowhere near his former power.

Moreover, it was tradition to take place on a hunt and spill blood by the light of this moon, and the temptation this presented to him made him arguably more nervous than the acceptance of his peers. As of late his cravings had been more persistent, perhaps in response to drinking from Detlaff to supplement his regeneration. Regis was sure that if he participated in a hunt now, he would lose control and spiral into old habits.

Detlaff was acutely aware of Regis’ anxiety as they walked in the waning light, wordlessly laying a comforting hand on his shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. Regis was his guest and his brother in blood; they were family now. If anyone had anything to say about it, they would answer to him first. The gesture elicited a small smile from the older vampire, though it was not enough to quell the thoughts plaguing him as they continued on.

As the pair approached the clearing, the dark had fully set in and the moon’s light had not yet reached its pinnacle for the night. Already, there was a significant gathering of vampires laughing, joking and embracing in their reunion. Detlaff was recognized immediately by several bruxae who greeted him enthusiastically, only noticing his company as an afterthought.

The jubilant atmosphere was halted as the members of the tribe recognized Regis in attendance, ushering whispers and hushed words amongst themselves as they eyed up the two. At this Detlaff stood tall with shoulders back, cold blue gaze challenging the others to dare to speak out against him. He could still feel the anxious energy emanating off his companion, but this did not deter him. Tension in the air was thick, and Regis felt as though his heart may leap out of his chest. Desperately wishing to avoid a conflict, Regis moved to speak his intention to support his pack and blood brother. He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to explain himself, but found the words would not come. The tension was finally cut, when a voice rang out

“Regis, old friend, about time you joined us for a lunar celebration!” Orianna, a cautious smile on her face, approached the two and pulled him into an embrace. Regis felt himself breathe a heavy sigh of relief and reciprocated the gesture. Detlaff also seemed to relax, if less so, and with that the conversational din gradually returned.

Over the course of the next hour or so the trio kept to the fringe of the group, and with the exception of a few individuals who asked for Detlaff’s attention, the three of them kept the conversation to themselves. Orianna was interested in what Regis had been up to over these years, and he was more than happy to recant the time he spent with the Hansa, the incident at Castle Stygga, how Detlaff had found him and aided him in regeneration. The conversation was friendly, and to his relief the atmosphere in the group seemed non-hostile. In spite of this however, Regis could still feel the gaze of the other pack mates on him occasionally. It was made clear to him that very few of his kin were prepared to consider him part of their family. Discomfort twisted in the pit of his stomach, but he did his best to smile and push it aside.

As the moon began to climb to the peak of its arc, vampires began to disperse into the surrounding wood as they prepared for their hunt. Orianna and Detlaff looked to Regis, as if issuing a nonverbal invitation to join them on their hunt. As Regis considered he felt his mouth go dry, he cast his eyes to the ground and began to fidget again with the hem of his doublet. Regis met their questioning gazes and spoke.

“I believe I’ve overstayed my welcome as is. The two of you enjoy yourselves, and I will enjoy vicariously through you.”

Orianna protested, but Detlaff simply nodded in understanding. With that, Regis left by the light of the full moon, doing his best to ignore the looks of distain and the offended whispers of the other vampires for refusing to participate in their ancient traditions.

Regis made his way home, heart heavy with regret. True, he was thankful that his presence had not caused violence, and thankful Detlaff had shown desire to share the tradition with him. However he lamented that he could not engage in activities with his kin, wondered if his sacrifice was worth all the trouble it’s caused him.

When he returned to Mère-Lachaiselongue Cemetery, he drowned his sorrow in mandrake and sat on a tombstone, watching the worms make their way to the surface of the moist soil, jealous of their simple and uncomplicated lives. When his head was sufficiently foggy, he made his way inside the crypt, pausing a moment to pour a small amount of the moonshine on the earth in offering to the worms. He shrugged off the doublet and lay down on his cot. As sleep began to take him, he reached for his journal and began to write an entree:

"I strive to live like a person, and it means that I have ceased to feel good among people as well as among my own. Maybe I made a big mistake."

#emiel regis #detlaff van der eretin #orianna #the witcher #blood and wine #tw3 #tw3baw #fanfiction #witcher-regis #headcanon #vampire traditions