#aard bugs
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weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee !!
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Tender Love and Care part 13
Masterlist
The room had been quiet for some time now. You were unsure how much time had passed without being able to see the window or any of the clocks. You had asked the castle attendant that had been wheeling you around to help you into a chair that was in the corner of your room. The two of you had not gotten very far however, frustrating you greatly. So you were forced to stay in bed.
You were laying on your side, weekly hugging some of the pillows to your chest. You were afraid should you ask for helping sitting against the headboard, you may lose your balance and fall to the side with no way to right yourself.
The door creaked slightly as you heard someone enter the room, followed by a short gasp from a male.
When he had gotten the notice that you were home your father had stopped everything. This would have been his response typically as he had not seen your in a century or more. Hearing you were sick however expedited his travel greatly. He was not expecting what was on the other side of your door.
You were huddled in on yourself. Gaunt in the face. Veins prominent under your skin as your traitorous blood turned them black. Eyes hazy as they stared off at nothing. He might have thought he was too late if it weren’t for the horrendous sound of ragged and pained breathing that came from you. The sound was a wheeze followed by a whimper and it made your father’s knees want to give out from under him.
“Who’s there” you called out, the strength lost in your voice. Your father rushed over as you struggled to turn onto your back. Atrophied muscles shaking with the great force it took for you to turn over.
“It’s me June-bug, it’s me I’m here” your father’s comforting voice echoed above you. If you could have mustered up the strength you would have cried tears of joy at hearing him again. And then tears of sadness because you could not see his shining eyes peering at you.
“Papa” you felt him clasp your hand in his own. “I’m sorry”
“What on earth are you apologizing for little one?” his voice was kind, sweetness laced in it, but not enough to hide the sadness that lay underneath.
“We’re never going to finish reading the books in the library” You heard a small sob fight it’s way out of your father’s mouth as he fought to keep his composure. He sat on the bed, maneuvering you so you were leaned against his chest. Your head under his chin as held you. Cradling you.
“Oh June-bug I should have never let you go. I’m so so sorry.” When you made no response, your father tried to rouse you.
“June-bug?” your eyes did not open. Your breathing now the only indication your were still with him. Losing the fight to stay conscious. You father cradled your head, burying his face into your hair.
And he wept.
~
It had taken some time for the boys to find the fairy ring in the forest outside the keep. Jaskier had only had a vague idea of where it was located. The weather was fair however and aard turned out to be quite useful as a snow clearing mechanism. Soon enough the tell-tale mushrooms stood in stark contrast to the winter snow and barren earth beneath them.
“You’re sure about staying behind?” Jaskier had aimed the question at Geralt who had decided to stay at the keep to watch over the animals.
“You said yourself time works a little differently there. I would hate to come back and find everyone starving.” The group nodded at him, Lambert, Vesemir, Eskel and Jaskier all gathering around the circle.
“Just come back in one piece” Lambert and Vesemir smiled at the comment, but Eskel was too focused. This was it, his chance to see you again. His chance to have you home in his arms once more. He prayed to every deity that would listen that he made it to you in time.
Jaskier held out his hands, under normal circumstances the Witchers may have grumbled about this—Lambert looked like he still might—but they all relented and took one another’s hands. In one moment, they were all stepping into the circle and the next. Gone.
The feeling of transporting was unlike what Eskel had expected. He had thought it would be like the magic portal’s mages used. A rush or feeling of unease as reality pulled and shifted around you, but it wasn’t. In fact, it felt like nothing. If it weren’t for the change of scenery from a snowy forest to a barren field he would have thought nothing had happened. Anxiety left him as he let go of the hands he had been holding. Everyone was here in one piece. Lambert’s hair-brained scheme had worked. He was going to come find you.
“So where is she?” Lambert was the first to step out the circle, followed by everyone else.
“She’s there.” Jaskier pointed to a castle off in the distance, surrounded by a great and mighty labyrinth.
“What! She’s all the way out there? I thought this thing was supposed to take us to y/n?” Lambert was unhappily stopping around the field, his boots pulling grass as he went along.
“I said it would take us to the nearest fairy ring to her, which is here. Don’t worry it’s shorter than you think. “ Jaskier began walking to a grand gate, a pond quietly splashing on either side. The three Witcher’s followed.
“This is one hell of a security system for a castle” Vesemir quietly commented as the door closed on it’s own accord behind them.
“That’s the thing” Jaskier let out an amused hum. “It’s not for the castle, this is the whole kingdom.”
“The whole kingdom is one giant maze?” Lambert questioned.
Jaskier hummed in amusement, walking straight into a passageway hidden into a wall and veering left.
“Oh and one more thing” Jaskier turned to the posse behind him. “I’ll ask that you” he gestured vaguely with his hand at the group. “Contain your witcher-ly urges while were here. Some of the denizens here may look ‘monsterly’ to you. But rest assured everyone here is harmless….. mostly” The last word was hushed as Jaskier turned around and headed forward. All three of the witchers side eyed one another before continuing.
Eskel was amazed as he followed Jaskier. The walls of the maze seemed to move ‘around’ him. The path clearing of obstacles on there own accord. He swore he had only been walking 10 minute but the castle looked miles closer. In naught but a quarter of an hour they were at the gates to a city. The doors held open by chains.
Jaskier’s face began to sour as he walked further.
“I don’t like this” he said stopping by a fountain to look around.
“What do you mean?” Vesemir asked, picking up on the fact that Eskel had not said a word the whole trip.
“This place is usually bustling; you can’t walk three feet without bumping into someone.” Jaskier looked at the ground a moment before picking his head up once more.
“We should hurry”.
The group followed the bard swiftly. “Damn the bard can run’ Eskel thought as they climbed staircase after staircase. The pathway’s unusually clear for an apparently active castle. Eskel quickly found out why.
Jaskier stopped as a hall was crowded with the castle’s various attendants. All of them watching the door at it’s end with rapt attention. Once their presence was made known they all cleared a path, moving out of the way much like the walls of the maze had. Eskel’s mind was set on the door. Sprinting behind Jaskier they ran to it.
You were behind the door.
He was going to see you again.
This was finally it.
The door burst open as Jaskier and Eskel entered, Vesemir and Lambert standing in the doorway.
In front of them was a bed, two figures, a man and a woman, sat on either side of it. Both teary eyed as they stared at the figure prone on it. The commotion of the door had grabbed their attention. The woman speaking.
“Julian!” Both figures made there way up toward Jaskier.
“Mom, dad” Jaskier embraced his parents, but Eskel’s eyes were elsewhere.
Laying there was you. Skin taught and figure ghostly. Jaskier’s descriptions of the illness had not prepared Eskel to see you. It looked as if a monster had sucked the very soul out of you and left nothing but dark angry marks in its wake.
Eskel slowly made his way toward you. Unbeknownst to him, Jaskier was silently holding back your parents from returning to there seats.
“y/n” he knelt next to your side. Brushing the side of your face with the back of his fingers.
“I’m here y/n, I found you. We all did. Lambert, Vesemir were here. We need you love. I need you” Eskel had to stop to take a breath.
“Y/n, if you can hear me, please know every morning I’ve woken up without you has been a nightmare, a nightmare I created and I would do anything to fix. Y/n my life…. was nothing but dark. Stumbling around in the night with nothing to guide me. And then this brilliant piece of starlight found me. You gave me something to live for. Please” Eskel bowed his head on your chest, arms wrapped around your meager frame.
“I can’t live in darkness anymore. Please, please don’t leave me alone here.”
And Eskel did something he thought he couldn’t do.
He cried.
Not unshed tears in the eyes.
Tears, unfettered by mutations, flowed down, and stained the blankets beneath him.
Eskel cursed those mutations more than ever now as he heard your heart slow and slow.
And stop.
Taglist
@writingmysanity @ab-haya @just-a-sad-donut @seidenbros @deliciousblackfatcat @bushtail
#eskel x reader#alaska writes#abo au#eskel my beloved#alpha/beta/omega verse#tw: angst#oof#hey you read the tags!#i'm not evil#i swear#trust the process#tw: death
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ok i wrote a ficlet for the concept. just a short fight with some arachas, and a bit of a confrontation with scott
"arachas," he says, a sinking feeling in his chest. geralt 'hm's beside him. "must've come through the rift." the clicking gets louder, shuffling in the trees, and geralt draws his sword. stiles backs up, closer to his companion, arm raised in defence. "we should really do something about that. like a big building, with warded doors, or--"
"not the time." geralt says, though not unkindly. there's a moment of stillness, just the whistle of the wind through the boughs, grass and leaf litter rustling. then geralt lunges, witcher eyes catching something stiles cant, and there's an answering screech as metal meets chitin.
more arachas burst from the underbrush, moving to surround them. scott draws his fangs, and stiles waves him away, knows wolf claws wont get through the hard outer shell. if anything, scott should be running, but--
one lunges, and stiles pirouettes, claws missing him by a sliver. his heart pounds in his chest, pure energy coalesing in his palms, hot and jittery. there are four of them in total, not counting the one geralt's engaging. they circle and snap, legs skittering against the forest floor, unsure what to make of him. the one nearest lunges again, and he spins, heel turn, slaps both hands flat on the side of it's carapice, and lets the energy explode.
arcs of electricity singe the ground and the creature seizes, cooking alive in its shell as lightning bounces around inside it. stiles grits his teeth and pushes, pushes energy into the palm of his hands, holds them there until the very carapice itself cracks under the onslaught. he lets go and the beast staggers once, twice, and then collapses, still twitching from its electrocution. "who else wants some?" he asks, hands spread
the three remaining roar, only to be knocked sideway by aard. geralt's finished with the first one, and the next one nearest to him is stunned by the sudden blast. his sword slides home in the confusion, slipped neatly between plates and twisted sharply to crack the beast open as it squeals and flails, trying to bite at geralt to no avail.
one rears up, lunging with it's almost tusk-like pinchers to get geralt off its companion, and the other rears back with its sights set on stiles. geralt dodges, and stiles spreads his legs, ready to spin away from another lunge, but as he moves what hits his arm is the sticky confines of webbing.
clever bug. it knew not to let him touch it. the webbing sticks to his back, his arm, pins it to his side. he jerks and twists as it uses its pincers to pull the webbing closer, dragging him inch by inch towards its open, dripping, sharp-toothed maw.
he plants his heels in the dirt and grabs the web string with his free hand, teeth gritted. smart, but not smart enough. electricity races down the webbing and the arachas seizes, screeching in agony. it drops the webbing from its mouth and claws, giving stiles a chance to grab his knife and cut himself free, brandishing it against the twitching monster.
he presses his sweaty palm against his forearm where the algiz rune lives beneath his sleeve, pushing energy and belief into the ink. then, as the arachas comes at him, he charges like a berserker.
an invisible shield held aloft absorbs the impact of the blow and leaves the arachas confused as he once more spins out of the way, dancing towards its back. he shoves the knife beneath its shell into its soft, unprotected backside, and slices the knife longways as if to disembody the beast. the knife isnt long enough for that, but the gash is substantial, body fluids gushing out in a disgusting waterfall, just barely missing his shoes.
the arachas screams, spinning so fast he's knocked aside like a sack of bricks, skidding across the ground, tree roots battering his back. but the creature is slow now. injured. it still twitches from his shock, and it's makeshift shell is barely holding on, its backside deflated and mishapen.
stiles scrambles into a crouched position, panting as he digs his nails into the dirt, drawing energy from the forest around him. he doesnt have long, the arachas is scuttling towards him, but as he raises his hands in front of him, he closes his eyes and lets himself picture what he wants. he feels the energy of it, the shape of it in his mind, wills it to exist. then he sweeps his arm to the side, throwing his projectile forward with every ounce of energy he has.
a chunk of lightning lauches forward like a bolt, penetrating straight through both layers of chitin to come out the other side and embed itself in the ground, crackling and fizzing before disipating into the soil. the creature twitches once, twice, then collapses, dead.
geralt holds out his hand to stiles, and stiles takes it gratefully. "shouldnt have let it knock you down." he says as he tugs stiles standing.
stiles rolls his eyes. "oh please. i'd like to see you do better. i didnt notice /you/ throwing around force lightning and saving the day." he wiggles his fingers and imitates palpatine's laugh.
before geralt can say anything, jaskier jumps down from the tree he'd been hiding in. "another successful hunt!" he says cheerily. "though i wish you didnt have to get so..." he flaps his hand about as if to indicate all of them, which prompts stiles to look down at himself. he doesnt think he's /that/ gross, the guts missed him entirely, and there's only a bit of dirt.... jaskier takes the distraction as an opportunity to peck him on the cheek, then does the same for geralt. "there. that's all you get until you clean up."
"a harsh taskmaster." geralt says dryly.
"he wants us to waste away." stiles replies with a serious head nod.
"oh, shut up you two. you'll not convince me otherwise." jaskier says primly.
stiles clutches his chest as if wounded, but then his expression changes as he suddenly remembers. "oh! the rift. we need to do something about it."
"stiles is right." geralt says. "the arachas are dead, but more things could still come through. we need a way to secure the rift so nothing else starts tormenting this world."
"or no /one/ else. what if a ban bard bastard had found it? decided that this world was a little too easy to take over, with the magic and the mundane so seperate? we need a way to protect it, conceal it, and ward it. all without drawing so much power that it draws anyone's attention." he rubs his chin as he thinks, counting off his fingers on the other as he goes through his list.
"it'll be found eventually no matter what we do," geralt says, "but we can try to mitigate the worst of it. at least the rift's location is obscure enough continent-side. but so close to a town earth-side? that'll be harder to hide."
"so the contract's /not/ over yet." jaskier says with a sigh.
"im afraid not." geralt says with a sympathetic smile.
"alright, alright. it'll make for a better song anyway." jaskier says, even though he's obviously annoyed. "if it's magical concealment we need, why not stiles'? mages cant trace it the way they can continent magic."
"i'll have to, for sure, but the problem isn't just making it invisible, it's making sure nothing falls through." stiles replies. "for that we'll need wards and--"
"hopefully neither of you minds a bit of masonry." geralt says, seemingly in good humor. "we'll build around the rift so nothing stumbles through. ward it so nothing can get to it we dont want. and conceal it so nothing /sees/ it we dont want, either." they bother groan, and geralt claps them on the shoulder. "no bellyaching. everyone pulls their weight."
"didnt you get enough brick laying at kaer morhen?" stiles whines, though he knows geralt's right and he's going to do it. jaskier seems about in the same bost. then, scott's voice cuts through their discussion.
"you killed them." he says, and the tempurature in the clearing drops. stiles can feel his chest tightening, his stomach dropping out. those words-- from /scott/--
"yes, scott. they were bugs. do you have a problem with swatting mosquitoes now too?" stiles says harshly. scott winces and rubs the back of his neck.
"no, i mean... they were so big. and you killed them." he says, and stiles relaxes a bit as he realizes what scott meant, though the fact he was still underestimated rankles.
"yes. its what we do. im not as fast as the big guy, but i have my own magic." he says, taking the tone of someone explaining the patently obvious. he tries not to roll his eyes or sigh.
"the big guy?" geralt asks.
"if you dont want to be called big guy then try having biceps smaller than my head." stiles shoots back. "now we took care of your bug problem," he says, redirecting back to scott, "but they were from our side, which means the job's not done until everything is secure."
"our side." scott echos, looking far away, and suddenly so, so tired.
stiles meets his gaze, takes a step closer to his friends. his lovers. his /pack/. "yeah, scotty. /our/ side." he says it almost gently, but still firm. he's picking sides. and maybe this world will always be home, but the continent is where he grew into himself. it's his as much as geralt and jaskier are.
silence permeates the clearing, settles into the trees. sits heavy on everyone's shoulders. "what even were those things?" scott asks
"they're called arachas. they're kind of like if crabs and spiders were one thing, from hell, and hated you personally." stiles replies, and he almost smiles back.
"and you kill stuff like that all the time?" stiles feels a faint glow of pride that he managed not to look like a rank amature. he's not been a novice for a very long time, but it still tickles him now and then that he's actually thought of as competent.
"you know, this, wraiths, arachnomorphs, drowners..." he says casually. "then on this side there's basilisks and ghosts and all other manner of creepy crawlies. not to mention treaties to maintain, packs to appease, covens to keep in check, forests to protect for dryads... the list goes on." he waves his hand around.
"so this is your full time life. running around fixing magical problems."
"i always wanted to be a cop. turns out i had an even better way to protect people, from things they didnt even know existed."
"and if a witch steps out of line. or a werewolf goes rogue. what do you do then?" scott asks, a challenge in his eye, in the jut of his jaw.
stiles meets his challenge. "i stop them."
the air practically crackles around them with the intensity of their stares. his heart beats wildly in his chest, a deafening drumbeat in his ears. he feels a hand on his lower back, out of sight, steadying him, and he sucks in a breath as it starts to even out again.
"i cant forgive you for what happened." scott says, and stiles takes in another deep breath.
"i dont need you to." he says, and he's shocked when he means it. he really, really means it. "i just need enough time to fix the problem with the rift, and then to pass through your land unimpeeded, alpha mccall."
scott makes a strangled noise, and geralt nods at him. "come on. we need to get started."
"before something else crawls through." jaskier adds
stiles nods, and walks away without another word, footsteps lighter than before
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Geen verdere vertragingen voor Vasil hard fork volgens Charles Hoskinson
De langverwachte Vasil hard fork upgrade voor Cardano (ADA) is enkele weken uitgesteld omdat het smart contract platform doorgaat met het oplossen van de kinderziektes.
Daar er feitelijk gezien veel vragen over de hard fork onbeantwoord bleven, maakte de Cardano oprichter een opname op zijn YouTube-kanaal om een update te geven en te bespreken wat de volgende stap is voor de blockchain.
Hoskinson verzekerde gebruikers dat hij geen verdere vertragingen voorziet voor de Vasil hard fork en verklaarde dat de upgrade zich momenteel in de laatste testfase bevindt.
"Het goede nieuws is dat de kans van de dingen die mis kunnen gaan heel klein is geworden. We zijn in de laatste stadia van het testen in dat opzicht. Dus tenzij er iets nieuws wordt ontdekt, verwacht ik niet dat we verdere vertragingen zullen oplopen.""Het proces gaat gestaag en systematisch maar ook zeker de goede kant op en ik wilde jullie alleen even laten weten dat het allemaal goed gaat, dat is de aard van dit soort upgrades."
Leer alles over Crypto en NFT's met deze handleidingen
Hoskinson merkte op dat het erop lijkt dat het team steeds dichter bij de bodem van het vat komt als het gaat om het oplossen van de bugs.
Ook uitte hij zijn teleurstelling over het feit dat hij niet in staat was om de hard fork erdoorheen te krijgen voor juli, hoewel er preventieve maatregelen moeten worden genomen met bugs, "vooral een die betrokken is bij consensus of serialisatie of gerelateerd is aan een bepaald probleem met een transactie."
Vasil moet schaalbaarheid van Cardano verbeteren
De Vasil hard fork, die oorspronkelijk op 29 juni zou worden uitgebracht, heeft als doel de schaalbaarheid van de Cardano blockchain te verbeteren en is daarom zo gecompliceerd. De Cardano gemeenschap wacht al maanden met ingehouden adem op de Vasil hard fork.
Verwacht wordt dat Vasil het netwerk in de Basho-fase van zijn plan zal brengen, waarbij zowel de schaalbaarheid van het netwerk als de functionaliteit van slimme contracten wordt verbeterd.
Adverteren op crypto-gids.nl? KLIK HIER
"Ik heb al eerder gezegd dat dit de meest gecompliceerde upgrade van Cardano in zijn geschiedenis is, omdat het zowel veranderingen in de programmeertaal Plutus omvat als veranderingen in het consensusprotocol en een lange reeks van andere dingen."
Gezien de herhaalde testen door Cardano-ingenieurs, zowel extern als intern, acht Hoskinson het "waarschijnlijk dat deze functies ziektevrij zullen zijn".
De oprichter van Cardano merkt dus op dat er slechts een paar 'randgevallen' zijn die moeten worden opgelost, en het Cardano-team zal hopelijk klaar zijn om een update te geven met aanvullend nieuws rond het midden van augustus.
https://youtu.be/Na09S56FwuY
Word lid van de Bitcoin/Cryptocurrency Facebook groep om geen enkel nieuwsbericht te missen en kom naar de Telegram om mee te discussiëren.
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Fuck it. More stupid witcher headcanons.
Lambert likes eating cabbages. Just whole-ass cabbages like one would an apple. Jaskier once asks if he cleans them before he eats them. He doesn’t. He eats the bugs, too.
Secretly, Lambert just really likes eating bugs in general.
Cronch.
After his initial fear of Lil Bleater, Jaskier grows really fond of her. If anyone even looks at her wrong he will draw the dagger he keeps in his [redacted].
(No one actually knows where he keeps his dagger. He always seems to have it no matter what he’s wearing or where he is. Geralt has A Hunch. He does not like this hunch very much.)
When Jaskier and Lil Bleater part after the winter, it’s very emotional. Titanic-esque Emotional. (Jaskier: I’ll never let go Lil B. Lil Bleater: ahhhhhh :( )
Lil Bleater: if you even fucking look at my Jaskier, I will stomp you to death with my hooves.
After Jaskier and Ciri invent skijoring with Roach (and give the Kaer Morons a collective heart attack in the process), they start taking small jumps of a few feet high. Geralt does not like this.
Lambert then combines this new Kaer-joring with the old, trusted Aard the Bard and starts launching Jaskier in the air every time he does a jump. He gets a lot higher this way. Geralt Really Does Not Like This.
When it’s not winter and everyone’s on the Path, Vesemir will dance through Kaer Morhen from time to time.
Geralt really doesn’t like onions. The only reason he punched Jaskier when they first met is because of the onions comment.
Geralt is just a picky eater in general.
Ciri, on the other hand, will eat anything.
So will Jaskier.
“Hey, Ciri, I’ll give you 10 ducats if you eat this spider.” “CIRI DON’T EAT THE FUCKING SPIDER” “You’re no fun, Geralt. Yes, I will eat the spider.”
Somehow, neither of them ever gets food poisoning.
Yen secretly really likes flower crowns. (She looks gorgeous in them, too)(who am I kidding, she looks gorgeous in everything)
Roach is an old god. She just likes sticking around Geralt because of the Drama he always causes.
Jaskier has made it his mission to tame/domesticate at least one monster.
Yes, he will pspspspspspsps at them. Yes, it nearly gets him killed every time.
“Geralt, think about it. What’s the difference between a monster and an animal? Who decided where to draw the line? Cows kill more people each year than Selkies do, yet you don’t hunt cows for sport.” “Jaskier, SHUT UP.”
Eskel’s internal monologue is just medieval Steve Irwin.
Eventually, he joins Jaskier on his mission to tame/domesticate monsters as well, just so that he doesn’t have to kill them.
Cue Jaskier and Eskel both standing at the edge of the clearing pspspsps-ing at a Kikimora that’s trying to kill Geralt.
Ciri eventually joins in, and so does Lambert. Yen, too, but she’s just there for a laugh.
Geralt: *locked in a fight to the death with an archgriffin, might be Dying* The Kaer Morons and co.: pspspspspspspspspspsps
When Vesemir finds out about this, he just fucking Gives Up. Walks into the woods. Isn’t seen for an entire week.
He’s had Enough.
#the witcher#geralt of rivia#jaskier#eskel#lambert#yennefer of vengerberg#cirilla of cintra#vesemir#lil bleater#kaer morons#the gang's all here#once again#the king speaks#stupid witcher headcanons#look i have many thoughts all of them dumb#i have a whole ass other post with even more of these ready to go#i shit you not
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Long for Who You Could Have Been.
| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 4, Day 19: Mistakes} |
| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |
———
| They might be monster hunters and that might mean their lives are fraught with chaos and danger. But there were moments in between the contracts and courts, fragile and wavering like the dying embers of a flame; where pasts, and hopes, and dreams were shared in the refuge of the campfire. |
| Word Count: 1,764. |
———
| A/N: So this is my second to last Jasonette July fic but the last to actually be posted in July since the other fic (Prompt: Loss) is taking longer than expected to write, whoops! Anyway here's a shorter Witcher au that's mostly fluff with a tinge of sadness here and there. Definitely feels weird to be using/needing so few tags for the first time in a long while! Lastly, thanks to my friend Saf whose reactions to the snippets I send her, absolutely fuel my will to write! |
| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |
———
The fire crackled gently, flames flickering in soft almost hypnotising patterns. The light and warmth were all that was keeping the chilling coastal mist at bay, from reaching their little makeshift camp.
Crescent moon and stars twinkled above, shining their silvery light down to mix with the ghostly mist below.
It was almost haunting, in the precious silence, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of waves against the cliff rocks not too far away. And the low hum of the local nocturnal bugs and other such creatures; the flap of bat wings, the cry of an owl, the flutter of moths and beetles, the scuttling of hedgehogs, mice, and foxes. The air was still, not even the faintest sea breeze and yet the fret rolled and crept and seeped into every nook and cranny outside of the protective glow of the campfire.
Jason sat on one side of the fire, on his bedroll and worked on cleaning his silver and steel swords with a rag, not quite humming as he quietly mouthed the words to a jaunty little tavern song, the Fishmonger's Daughter.
On the opposite side of the campfire, on her own bedroll, Marinette had a cloak splayed out across her knee with a needle and thread in hand. Tongue sticking out slightly, in concentration, carefully she darned away at the numerous little holes that had formed from walking through the thorny bush filled forest that their current contract had led them into entering.
With a huff, Jason threw the cleaning rag at the saddlebag on the ground beside him. He sheathed his swords and pulled out his favoured weapon, the crossbow with steel and silver-tipped bolts. Immediately he began checking the bolts for any potential damage and ensuring the shooting mechanism on the crossbow hadn't jammed.
“Something on your mind, Blue Jay?” Marinette asked, glancing up from her needlework for a moment.
He tipped his head back and sighed. “I've been thinking…”
“That's new.” She responded, mirth glinting obviously in her eyes and the bubble of laughter in her tone.
Jason gasped in faux offence, mindfully dropping his crossbow and scrambling for the cleaning rag just to throw it at her face.
Before it could hit her, Marinette plucked it out of the air with two fingers. She hummed mock-thoughtfully. “Your aim's off.”
“You take that back! My aim is impeccable. Alfred said so!” He argued back.
She snorted. “Alfred is biased because he's your grandfather figure. And I'll take it back next time we get through an entire contract without you missing a single shot.” To punctuate her point, she tossed the rag back at him.
He half-dived for it, grabbing it with both hands and with it safely in his grasp, placed the rag inside the saddlebag beside him. Throwing his arms up in mock-exasperation, Jason scowled playfully at her. “C'mon! That's not fair, you've never gone an entire contract without messing up or missing with your magic either!”
“Yeah,” Marinette agreed with a nod of her head and a smirk on her lips, “but I've never claimed to be perfect at magic!”
Her words caused him to falter slightly. “Right,” he swallowed a breath of air thickly, “That reminds me of what I was going to say before we got distracted.”
She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows and putting on a softer tone. “What is it? As much as we joke, I'd never actually judge you for missing shots or anything else, you know that right?”
“Yeah, I know… I just.” He huffed in frustration. Hesitantly, he held her gaze with his own but not a second later, winced and shifted his to stare down at the flickering embers of the campfire pit. Avoiding eye contact with her. He clenched his fists. “D'you ever, I don't know, feel like this was all… a mistake?”
Scrunching up her face in confusion, she squinted at Jason. “What do you mean? As-as in taking the contract?”
“No! Well, yes but no. I mean…” He waved an arm, gesturing vaguely around them, “just everything. Becoming a Witcher. Or I guess in your case, a Sorceress. Do you regret it?”
When she didn't immediately respond, Jason huffed again, hunching his shoulders up and practically bristling like a particularly grumpy and grizzling moggy. “Look, never mind. Stupid question.”
“It's not stupid!” Marinette retorted, “I just… wasn't expecting a question like that at this moment.”
He stared at her expectantly. “Well?”
Tipping her head back slightly, she fiddled with the needle still in one hand and sighed. “I suppose I do, I know I shouldn't… but I miss the easy days. Like before I knew what I was capable of. Before I knew what horrors the world could bring. Back when my only worries were getting stitches right and not messing up when dealing with expensive materials. Or maybe having to worry if the Alderman's daughter was going to harass me at some point during the day.”
Marinette tilted her head forwards again, a frown gracing her lips, and shrugged. “What brings this up?”
There's not an immediate response, as Jason casts his gaze away from the fire—towards where the sea could be heard but not seen. His fingers twitched midair, almost as though plucking the strings of an instrument. “I never wanted to be a Witcher. I was a Child Surprise, dunno who was the one that offered the Law of Surprise though.”
“Ah, I sorta get that. I'm also a Child Surprise, didn't get to choose to be a Sorcerer either.” As she spoke, she nodded in solidarity.
Jason jolted, gaze immediately snapping up to stare at her, completely taken aback. “Wait seriously? You're a Child Surprise too? How'd that happen?”
“Well, my parents' bakery was attacked and Félix, y'know my mentor, saved them. He invoked the Law of Surprise, expecting to get bread or some other baked goods.” She snorted, “he was awfully surprised to end up getting me instead. And when I accidentally cast my first ever spell trying to escape the Alderman's daughter, I ended up teleporting to Félix.”
“So, wait Félix fucking invoked the Law of Surprise to get food? And got you instead. Holy fucking shit that's hilarious!” He wheezed, doubling over in raucous laughter.
Huffing, she cast a spell, causing a vine to sprout up out of the ground beside him and slap him on the knee. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!”
“Ouch! Hey, no fair!” Jason mock scowled, choking back any further laughter. Quickly, in retaliation, he cast a weak Aard.
The telekinetic wave knocked into Marinette, pushing her onto her back from the weakened force.
“Wha—! Oh, so the vine isn't fair but throwing me to the ground is!” She griped, crossing her arms (carefully as to not prick herself on the needle) but made no attempt to get up.
Half-shrugging and grinning smugly, he replied, “you started it!”
She made an exaggerated groaning noise in response before slowly shifting her position to push herself back up into sitting cross-legged. “Well, now you know how I became a Sorcerer. How'd being a Child Surprise tie into you ending up a Witcher, if you don't me asking?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged with both shoulders this time, “I tried to steal the infamous Bat of Gotham's horse, he asked me my name. Reluctantly and after some bribery of hot food, I told him. Didn't think to give a fake one, at the time. He made a face, invoked the Law of Surprise owed to him and dragged me back to the Bat Witcher school.”
“Huh,” Marinette responded, “so if you hadn't… what would you have done with your life?”
Jason raised an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? This is me we're talking about. I'd have gone to Bard College, obviously. I'd have written poems and shit. And books, I'd have written books.”
Scrunching up her face once more, Marinette glanced down at the needle in her hand. “We're by the coast.”
“What?” He asked incredulously, giving her a bemused and questioning look. “What does that have to do with poetry and books?”
In a rush of words, she rambled, “we could take a holiday. I could find out about the spell to disguise your eyes… and uh hair too. That way no one will know you're a Witcher. And we can go to the bard college-town that's down the coast from where we are. We can scavenge together enough gold for you to attend, and you can write your poetry and books.”
Jason stared at her in shock, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Softly, as though anything louder than a whisper would cause the offer to shatter like his childhood dreams once had. “Oh, oh, could you really?”
As warmly as the fire between them, Marinette smiled, “of course! I'd have to ask Félix first of course. But he fell in love with Bridgette and she was a Witcher and he came up with a spell to disguise her whenever they weren't doing contracts or courtly politics. So I don't see why he wouldn't show me how to do it!”
Shakily, he wiped his eyes and smiled back. “Fuck, I'd love that!”
“Okay then! I'll contact Félix on the xenovox tomorrow.” As she spoke, a yawn slipped past her lips. “I think I'm gonna head to sleep now. I'll see you in the morning!”
“Good night, Marinette. I'm gonna stretch my legs real quick first.” He answered, hefting himself up and stretching his arms. “Sleep well, though.”
“Be careful!” Marinette yawned again and packed away her needlework for the night. She then wriggled into her bedroll. “And I'll try, g'night!”
“Night,” he whispered once more.
Quietly, so as to not disturb her, Jason slipped away from camp. Following the direction of the fret, he made his way down the safest cliff path he could find in the dark until his boots hit the sand. Step by step, he walked across the beach until the sea spray spattered against his clothes. He's close enough that the waves gently lapped at the toes of his boots.
Clutching one hand to his chest, just over where his heart was, Jason sighed and gazed longingly at the mist-shrouded sea.
“I never thought I'd get to continue my dreams after becoming a Witcher.” He whispered to the wind. “And now I can, thanks to her.”
He sighs again, heart warmed. And silently in the quietude of the beach at night, he cries alone. For his heart is too full with the kindness of another to contain the feelings any longer.
———
| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are much appreciated! |
| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |
| @jasonette-july-event |
#Maribat#MLB x DC#DC xMLB#Jasonette#Jasonette July#Jasonette July 2021#JasonetteJuly2021#JasMari#MariJay#Marinette x Jason#Jason x Marinette#Jasonette July Week 4#Jasonette July Day 19#Jasonette July Mistakes#Long for Who You Could Have Been#LfWYCHB#Sham's Posts#Sham's Writing#Sham's Fics
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Hello! For your head canon thing, Eskel ☯️◼️♦️ please
yes i love eskel thank you for this! also i was lowkey snooping on ur blog and the buzzfeed unsolved posts are fucking hilarious
☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon
■ - bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon
♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon
likes
spicy food that you can smell as soon as you go inside
taking scorpion for long rides and letting little kids pet her
the way grass looks after it rains
leather bound books
buying gifts for his brothers, he always puts a lot of thought into it and get a little competitive to have the best present
using his signs for fairly mundane things (igni to make tea, aard to close a door)
he knows how powerful his signs are and it pisses off lambert so win win
dislikes
people who don't take care of their animals
like if he sees a dog chained to a tree or a horse sleeping in mouldy straw he will 100% adopt it
politics. he doesn't judge geralt for getting involved, they just aren't for him
when people use the curse of the black sun to justify hurting young girls
since he met deidre he's broken the noses of 6 esteemed mages
drowner contracts
he hates getting water in his boots, it's the absolute worst
bedroom/house/living quarters
he's super neat and makes his bed every single morning
he doesn't like fancy things, his room at kaer morhen is mostly muted colors
except for a mural on the wall from when ciri wanted to try her hand at painting
it's really bad but never fails to make him smile
built a large desk so he can do research without lambert and geralt bugging him
he tries to keep plants, but gave up since he's away from home for so long
attempted to bribe lambert into taking care of them while he was away
did not work
lambert got drunk and thought the arenaria would appreciate a bit of vodka
has a deerskin rug in front of the fire for lil bleater
vesemir thinks goats should sleep outside but eskel doesn't want her to get cold
actually has a fairly large collection of trinkets, especially for a witcher
he likes having things to remember his family by when he's on the path
collection includes:
one of coën's daggers
a katakan tooth from a contract he did with lambert
a wolf pin deidre gave him
a copy of vesemir's encyclopedia of herbs
a spinning top he made with ciri
a dissection scalpel geralt gave to him
quirks/hobbies
really enjoys researching and learning all he can about monsters
it's easily his favourite part about being a witcher
all the major librarians in the north know him and set aside new books and studies they think he'll enjoy
really good at taxidermy
learned how to brew his own moonshine as a teenager
he loves the alchemical aspect and the getting-absolutely-soused aspect
likes having something to keep his hands busy
usually spins a coin on his knuckles, makes little wood carvings, or sharpens his dagger
if he doesn't have something on hand he'll end up scratching his scar
he's quite a good carpenter
makes a lot of the furniture in kaer morhen, usually with wood he cut himself
was devastated when yennefer threw the guest room bed off the balcony
#eskel#the witcher#wild hunt#tw3#geralt of rivia#geralt#lambert#coën#vesemir#eskel headcanons#eskel hc#the witcher headcanons#mine#hc tag#eskel tag#shaun the sheep talks to humans#titaniafire
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I uh... I just read your entire blog in approximately 6 hours so holy shit I'm impressed and needless to say I loved your writing. Please keep it up!!
6 hours has to be some new record I swear. And I’m utterly humbled you’ve spent so much precious time on reading my writing, thank you! Have a strange little idea as thank you: witcher Jaskier from a very peculiar school.
It was quite common knowledge that each school of witchers held different values in high regard. Wolves were emotionless and dedicated, Cats were vicious and wild, Griffins were methodical and relentless. There was a lesser known school though, the Cuckoos. They favoured the easiest path while still walking it like any other witcher. Their name was rather apt, they had a nose for finding not just trouble but someone else to deal with it. Almost never did they present as a wticher, usually as some other occupation. In the recent years, several trained as bards just because it seemed like something fun to do on the side for coin.
Because they never took contracts. Not officially. What they did do was attach to a witcher from another school, flitted around them, nosing out the contracts and letting the other deal with them. It was quite a good deal. Cuckoos got to have fun, enjoy being all but carried down the path by other witchers while still on it, as was their calling. But along the way they picked up other skills and enjoyed reaping the benefits of humanity in a way no other witchers really did.
There was no need to guess what Jaskier was. The mutations hadn’t changed his eyes, hadn’t given him any superhuman powers, those weren’t values cuckoos held up as things to attain. Instead, he was personable, easy to like, slipped from persona to persona as his needs suited - whether that was in a backwater tavern or the highest of courts, Jaskier fit right in.
Daggers were the preferred choice of weapon for cuckoos, easy to conceal and there were so many other ways out of a sticky situation than a brutish fight. Talking one’s way out was a good choice, as was fucking the way to a better out come. If that failed, usually the witcher a cuckoo attached to was ready to step in and help. But that didn’t mean a cuckoo was defenceless, had no way to protect themselves. Which was just as well because even witchers were only (by origins) human and that meant they were prone to slipping up from time to time and making mistakes.
That in itself wasn’t an issue, Jaskier had no qualms about quietly casting an aard or two to nudge a beast back into Geralt’s direction. He had even on occasion got his daggers bloodied on a vampire or two when the tide of a fight turned against his chosen witcher. The issue came when, in the fray of a fight, Jaskier didn’t realise another witcher had arrived. The distraction was enough time for the harpy to fly at Jaskier, claws out and digging across the softness of his belly. Burning pain erupted across his body and Jaskier crumpled. He didn’t even try to watch the rest of the fight which was short and brutal by the sounds of it. To be fair, Jaskier was too distracted by trying to keep the tear across his stomach as pulled closed as possible.
Two large bodies knelt next to him, hands moved his to inspect the wound and an unfamiliar voice cursed. So typical of the wolf school, Jaskier mused briefly. Maybe they had elocution lessons on how to say ‘fuck’ with various intonations and emotions.
“Potions,” Jaskier rasped. This would end his charade of him being a bard. if he was given a potion but he would prefer that to being dead. Unless the wolves tore him apart because other witchers didn’t have much of a fondness for cuckoos. They were held in an even lower regard than cats.
The sound of a blade being unsheathed had Jaskier turning his head from Geralt to the other man, older, more weathered than any other witcher he had seen before.
“It seems like you’ve got yourself a cuckoo.”
On the other side, Geralt was retreating towards Roach and grabbing his potions bag. “I know.” He called back, easy as anything. “Now put your sword away, Vesemir.”
Without sparing the other witcher a second glance, Geralt uncorked the bottle and poured half of it on the wound before offering the other half up to Jaskier’s lips. It had been a long time since Jaskier had drunk potions and he hadn’t missed them. Bitter and cloying, they burned and hurt, his whole body was on fire as the toxicity of it warped his sense all while the potion also worked on healing him. One thing bugged Jaskier though, even as his body twisted in agony: Geralt had said he knew, as if the revelation wasn’t some new betrayal. Jaskier’s identity wasn’t a great surprise and when Vesemir hadn’t put his sword away immediately, Geralt’s hand had strayed to his own sword. That was when Jaskier realised he had underestimated something about wolves; their loyalty.
Once he was over the pains of the potion and not worries about quite literally spilling his guts everywhere, Jaskier was going to have some questions. But, for now, he had the chance to not worry and focus on healing, knowing that his wolf would keep him safe.
#geraskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#vesemir#the witcher#witcher jaskier#tldr: jaskier thought he hid his identity with skill but geralt knew all along
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Sequellish to Fern Flower (it’s somewhere here either under totally not witcher au or murder-deer tag) - a bad Witcher AU but not because of the TV series. I just wanted to, originally, try my hand at semi-Slavic mythos and rituals. Kind of part 1 since the thread is ongoing, when I find time.
Warnings: Violence, giant bugs, and I think that’s it for the moment.
The woman in her chemise leaning over the brim of the wooden tub struggles to her feet with fright when Jack barges into the room.
"You didn't pay for the other one," she mutters and runs past Jack with the skirts under her arm as if hell itself is on her heels.
"She took off with the lace," Jack observes, stripping off his shirt and throwing it promptly on the ground, fingers undoing the strings of his pants.
"That's what I carry it for." Gabriel leans back in the water.
"Maybe I should try it myself, one day."
"Maybe you should."
"Tempting," Jack grins, slipping into the tub and sending water sloshing over the brim. For the briefest of moments, his eyes flash the black of bottomless desert wells and he leans forward brushing the tips of his fingers against the leather pouch Gabriel wears by his medallion.
"For all the wrong reasons." Gabriel mutters, and Jack snorts, spraying him idly with water with a flick of his wrist.
"While you were getting entertained, I'd been gathering information, now I don't know if I should tell you anything at all."
"Are you pouting?"
"Am not, little cub."
"You are," Gabriel laughs, throwing his head back.
"Hush. Or I'll bite you. And, am not."
"Whatever you say. What's the story?"
"So, it's a big bug, and I hate bugs," Jack rolls his eyes. "From the woods."
"Did it escape, or the dryads let it go?"
"Either way, I haggled up to three hundred, so you owe me." Jack rubs absentmindedly the scar on his neck. "You could wash my back."
"Does it still hurt?" Gabriel straightens and covers his fingers with his own, mindful of Jack's amused stare.
"This one is here to stay, cub."
"So you're saying."
"I'm also saying you could wash my back," Jack retorts, watching him get up and out of the tub. "It's a big centipede, as I gathered, so it's venomous, and so far it got cows, a dog, though I think the mutt just run away, and a horse from under a local guard."
"From under?"
"Well, it got the poor sod too, left him half-digested when it vomited on him, but first, it got the horse. According to the witnesses because there were some, apparently. They ran away with utmost bravery."
"Anything else?" Gabriel dries himself with the cloth.
"I think they were lying about the number of the cows, but that's to be expected," Jack stretches in the tub, getting more comfortable. "And also, wash my back," he adds when he hears Gabriel moving behind him, and for a moment Gabriel considers the request in the earnest.
At least, until he puts his palms on Jack's shoulders and pushes, dunking him under the surface of the water, cutting short the beginnings of a shrill shriek amidst flailing hands.
"Washed."
"You asshole!" Jack spits out the water, almost snorting. "Stop smirking!"
"No."
"I'm going to bite you, that's a promise!"
*
"You could help me," Gabriel mutters through gritted teeth while kneeling over the slightly bloated goat with a drawn dagger.
"No. Suffer. You're baiting the bug, and I'm going to stand here, upwind."
"Asshole."
"Only as much as you are." Jack flicks a fly off his sleeve. "Now, hurry up, I want this over so we can go talk with the dryads about keeping their pets on shorter leash. Besides, that was your idea."
"Because you're being an ass and refusing to find it."
"I hate bugs therefore I'm not going to talk to it."
"Sombra's rubbing off on you." Gabriel starts to carve the goat and the stench coming from its guts is nigh unbearable.
"I can feel my eyes watering from here. My condolences," Jack quips, too entertained by the whole ordeal.
"I'm far from being inclined to believe it's honest."
"It's not." Jack settles down in a spot under a tree trunk, sheltered from the side by brush and fallen branches. He rummages through his sack in search of something as Gabriel finishes preparing the bait. "Come here."
Gabriel wipes his hands on his pants ignoring Jack's empathetic sounds of disgust and slowly walks to him.
"Shit. You stink now," Jack extends his arms to pull him closer and let him nestle back between his legs. "Here," he presses a handkerchief to his nose and Gabriel inhales.
It's moss, resin, and musk, drowning out the reek of the carrion. Fingers in his hair trace whirling shapes and he closes his eyes, one hand resting on the hilt of the sword lying across his thighs - until his senses curl and fold in rhythm with the forest breathing.
Only the hand moving away from his eyes - fingertips brushing over his eyelids - and a small flask pressed to his lips bring him to the present. Jack indicates the direction with a slight shift of his shoulder and Gabriel nods, the liquid burning in his throat and veins.
There will be a price to pay. There is always a price to be paid, sometimes in advance.
The forest speaks as he raises with the hand on the hilt of his sword, listening to the sounds of the disturbed undergrowth. The bait had worked, too well even.
Gabriel leans back.
"Two."
"I noticed," Jack hisses back.
"You could've talked to them."
"Excuse me for not wanting to feel like something's crawling all over my thoughts for the next month or so."
"Tell me that after it eats me."
"Now I'm hoping one of them does eat you for real."
"You don't."
"Well, I'll settle for a nibble and a bite now."
Jack moves behind, and Gabriel takes off in the opposing direction while the both centipedes start to hiss and butt their carapaces over the goat's carcass. As long as they're busy, the odds are favorable.
Which, of course, means shit, because as soon as he moves into the position, the one closest to him starts to slowly back off, maneuvering its segmented body with meticulousness of something that cannot simply reverse. Even as he tries to still, it gives out another kind of hiss.
There is a certain pitch to the whizz of pressurized air, the pattern to the clicks, and the tone to chitin plates scraping against one another. A male, and that would make the other one, now moving over the bait in his direction, a female. A breeding pair, together.
"Distract the noisy one!" Gabriel, running, shouts over the hiss.
"Me and what army?" Jack screams back from the other side, actually managing to nail one of the creature's eyes twice with an improvised pinecone - and Gabriel would sympathize, if not for the fact it's a centipede
And Jack always had a penchant for throwing objects, especially at other sentient creatures, but that was a thought better left to explore when not being charged by a giant bug steadily gaining in speed. At least he managed to gain the attention of the male.
"I hate bugs!"
"I know, you don't have to repeat yourself all the time!" Gabriel forms Aard around the hilt - aiming at the ground, and giving himself more momentum for the jump as the female bears down on him - to land on its back just behind the head.
Also, to slip on the smooth carapace.
The centipede is slow to react but it still twists after him, leaving him thrusting the blade between the segments to keep himself from falling, not even upright but awkwardly leaning sideways, almost half-sitting with one leg curled up.
"You good?" Jack sounds breathless.
"Yes," Gabriel screams over the loud clacking and hissing, pushing the blade deeper into the tissues. He's missing all the vital organs at this angle, but with any luck he might nick one of the sacks holding the digestive acids. The centipede bucks and swings back under him.
He lowers himself - almost lying flat against the carapace - when the mandibles flap above him, the interlocking segments of hard chitin preventing the female from actually reaching him.
Until it does something seemingly too clever to be intentional.
Its whole body smashes against the tree trunks, and Gabriel barely avoids having his arm pulverized between the wood and the centipedes bulk - the impact itself sending waves of aftershocks along his nerves and loosening his grip on the sword.
He can only let go, pushing with his feet against the carapace to give himself more momentum and gain distance as he lands, rolling immediately away from the female's legs hitting the ground in a frenzied rage.
He's at disadvantage with his sword lost, the daggers useless now.
"Coming through!" Jack calls from much closer than before, and only a second later Gabriel feels another body crashing into him, sending both of them flying from the path of the male barreling straight into the other centipede as it fails to correct its course after its prey.
Gabriel spares a glance at Jack springing back to his feet. His chest heaves with the exertion and his lips are parted with the beginnings of an excited grin, the tongue slightly pushed forward and nostrils flaring, as if he is a wild animal scenting the forest air.
And it's captivating each and every time, this feral abandonment Reinhardt tried hard to subdue and extinguish with training even when Ana told him not to bother with it.
"I get your sword back, you wash my back for real this time?"
"Deal," Gabriel mutters under his breath.
"Deal." Jack smirks at him. Under the moonlight his eyes appear to run black but it's only the pupils blown as wide as the irises are, and Jack takes off towards the centipedes swiping and biting at each other as they fail to disentangle without becoming more and more aggravated.
Cautiously, Gabriel moves back, fingers ready to form a sign if it comes to this, and Jack weaves between the swinging legs, his palm finally curling around the hilt. He pulls hard, but the angle is wrong, and the female notices the tug, hissing in distress. The male reacts.
"Fuck!" Jack evades the first strike still keeping his grip on the sword, almost thrown over to the other side of the female but loses his balance and shrieks in pain when a mandible catches him in the face spraying blood on the bark. Gabriel finishes forming the sign.
The resulting blast of magic is enough to throw Jack back and confuse the centipedes. Still, the idiot refuses to let go of the hilt even when hurt, and, luckily, this time the blade dislodges. He hits the ground with a crunch of breaking branches and another shout of pain.
It doesn't stop him from getting up and lobbing the sword in an arc over the beasts. It embeds in the undergrowth in front of Gabriel.
"See, I got it," Jack calls from the other side. "We have a deal. So let's finish this."
"You're a goddamn fucking moron!"
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If your Geralt uses his Signs, what is his go-to? Igni, for its ability to be trained into essentially breathing fire? Or Quen, for its ability to slow down an enemy? Let us know how our favorite White Wolf fights!
This blog is accepting development anons!
Bug my character about their past! Ask them about the things you wonder about! Give them scenarios to get their brain going! Today is all about bringing out the growth hiding within my character.
Geralt uses both, but mostly Igni! Igni is super effective against almost anything. Quen is used when it’s super tough battles and Aard is often used with smaller opponents he can just knock back and then strike down, especially if there’s a hoard of them. Or humans, it’s effective against humans too. He does not like using Igni on humans, he doesn’t want to burn them alive, it seems cruel. Plus the smell of burning flesh is also not so pleasant on a witcher’s enhanced sense of smell. He also always uses a combination of oils and potions when he can. Ya witcher boy is always prepared.
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geralt/iorveth ficlet comission for @carverly !!!
Sorry this took me so long, I underestimated my writers block;;;
He swings his sword in an upward arc, slicing wind and reflecting dusk’s remaining light before bringing it down in a clanging slash, the cracking of an arachas’ carapace the nauseating sound that accompanies it. That, it seems, is the last bit of fight Geralt’s silver had left, because a fissure spreads from hilt to tip, and the witcher only spares it a grunt before tossing it aside.
The scoia’tael commander isn’t fairing much better, his bow rendered useless, sword hand dripping blood on to the forrest floor.
They didn’t expect the mercenaries, hadn’t expected the arachas that followed, hadn’t dreamed this would all happen while a fire burned and hard liquor passed between them.
Morons for expecting a reprieve, really.
“Iorveth!” Geralt shouts over the chittering sounds of their attackers, using aard to grant him some space and time. He can see the way Iorveth is beginning to sway, a weakened slash and two steps back, he refuses to back down even now.
“Iorveth, dammit!”
“I heard you!”
He may have heard, but he’s not listening, because he lurches forward, throws his whole weight into a stab through the insectoid, nearly collapses onto the thing as it gives in to death throws. Geralt rushes over, the arachas behind him still recovering from the kinetic blast, and Iorveth is struggling to his feet when Geralt grabs his arm.
“We need to go.”
“Can’t,” Iorveth starts, struggling to get enough air in, gritting his teeth through the pain. “Can’t squash a couple of bugs, Gwynbleidd?”
“Not if it means watching you die.”
Neither of them acknowledge it, not verbally, but the following silence says enough. The way Iorveth lets Geralt hook an arm around his waist, usher him in a staggering jog to Roach and practically throw him stop the horse—it’s enough.
They take off in a gallop, the sound of their attackers beginning to lessen. Iorveth’s vision blurs around the edges, each bump in the road kicking up a wave of pain, and Geralt isn’t surprised to feel the weight of him against his back. Relieved, if anything. He’s still warm.
No one questions them when they arrive at a worn down inn, mostly because of the gold Geralt slaps down, partly because of the blood they’re trailing. Geralt drags Iorveth to a room in the back, eases him down onto a straw filled mattress, and it’s only then that he realizes his silent companion is still mostly lucid.
“Awfully quiet.” Geralt grunts, dropping his gear to the floor, bending down to rummage through his bag for bandages and the like.
“Mm, losing most of your blood will do that.” Iorveth’s voice cracks, from exhaustion or pain or both. He refuses to remain helpless, and when Geralt turns back to him with bandages in hand he finds the elf bare from the waist up.
At least one rib is broken, the flourishing of bruising up his side makes that obvious enough. A wound, most likely from a mercenary’s sword, drips blood onto the sheets. The smell of blood is strong, the rough sound of Iorveth’s breathing loud in his ears, and Geralt realizes he still hasn’t heard a word of complaint from him. Too proud.
Geralt kneels beside him, holds out his hand, and Iorveth politely offers his injured arm without protest, only wincing when Geralt begins to wrap the wound.
The silence becomes deafening faster than they expect, both caught up in their own thoughts despite the prolonged contact. Moments before the attack there was growth of some kind, something happening between them that was brought on by aching feet and a thirst for liquor. They had talked, and laughed, and fingers lingered between passes of the bottle. It was wholly different from anything they’d shared before.
Now they’re here, tired, battered and bruised, and Iorveth refuses to look Geralt in the eye.
“That was stupid, you know.” Iorveth says, eyeing up Geralt’s bandaging job, how strangely delicate his thick and calloused fingers seem now. “If I die, I die. You know better than most it’s inevitable.”
“I also know,” Geralt continues, wrapping the bandage a little tighter than he needs to since he’s unable to kick Iorveth in this position. “when to call it quits. Like hell you’re going down because of some bugs.”
Iorveth snorts at that, but Geralt eyes the small quirk of his lips. He finishes his shoddy first aid job, gives Iorveth a pat on the shoulder.
“Get some rest.”
He starts to move, meaning to leave, maybe get some air and steal a fresh shirt off a clothing line somewhere— but a hand around his wrist stops him.
“That was stupid,” Iorveth repeats, still not looking Geralt in the eye, his grip tightens a hair as he speaks. “but thank you.”
Geralt is suddenly remembering his hasty words, the way fear curled in his gut when he saw all that blood, and the silence makes sense to him now.
“No need to thank me.” Geralt finally murmurs, giving up on pulling away. Iorveth’s grip slackens when he settles down beside him. It’s tense for a moment, something long and stifled, the two of them sitting side by side in filthy clothes on a dingy mattress in a questionable inn.
“You do owe me, though.” Iorveth finally quips, shrugging. To which Geralt quirks a brow.
“A second date.” He says, finally, finally looking Geralt in the eye at the exact moment he wishes he hadn’t. “Don’t try to bullshit me, I know exactly what that was.”
Geralt mentally adds Iorveth to the list of people who can see right through him, an ever expanding list.
Gods he’s right, though. There had been more important things to be doing but Geralt bought the expensive booze and suggested a rest they hadn’t needed, complained about an ache in his knees that hadn’t really been there. A surprise attack hadn’t been on the itinerary.
“You’re willing to do that again?” Geralt asks, humor in his voice. “After that mess we just went through I’d expect you to fuck off come morning.”
“Maybe we’re both idiots.” Is Iorveth’s grumbled reply, something that drags a laugh out of Geralt, which in turn pulls a grin to Iorveth’s lips.
“I at least expect you to make sure I don’t die in the middle of the night.” Is the elf’s change of subject before he reaches up to tug the scarf off his head, tossing it away and sliding down into a properly relaxed position.
Geralt had gotten used to Iorveth always being two steps ahead since their first meeting in the woods, it was in his nature to know everything about everyone at all times. But now, with a weird fog of tension between them that Iorveth somehow seems to be completely content with, Geralt wishes just this once he knew what the hell was going on.
He’s still baffled when Iorveth folds an arm behind his head, closes his eyes and slows his breathing.
“I’m...I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”
“Mm.”
He doesn’t move, not yet, busy staring down at the bruises, cuts and scrapes. Wonders if he could fix them all with his mouth.
“You stink.” Iorveth huffs, wrinkling his nose, and Geralt takes that as his cue.
Not before leaning down, gentle and slow in his approach, moving hair away as he places a lingering kiss to his forehead. He waits, still close, expecting a shove or insult, but instead receiving a soft pat to his cheek.
“Goodnight, Geralt.”
“Yeah.” He’s grinning, the kind that hurts his cheeks when he finally backs away, walking backward toward the door just to stare a little longer.
“‘night.”
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Did You Know: the humble armadillo is one apple tall and weighs 2 feathers
#aard armadillo#gamedev#aardvark agriculture#indie game#there is also a bug visible here can you guess what it is#or more accurately can you guess how it manifests bc there is no way on the planet that you could know whats actually supposed to be here
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Snelle stappen om te gaan met Outlook die niet reageert op een fout
Microsoft Outlook staat synoniem voor de meest veelzijdige e-mailclient. Maar net als bij andere software, is de vooruitzichten ook gevoelig voor bugs of fouten. Outlook reageert niet probleem is zo'n veelvoorkomende fout. Om het betreffende probleem op te lossen, wordt gebruikers aangeraden contact op te nemen met de klantenservice van Outlook. Het toegewijde team van technische experts zet zich in om langdurige oplossingen te bieden om soortgelijke problemen ook in de toekomst te voorkomen. Bel gewoon het gratis nummer van Outlook om onmiddellijk antwoord te krijgen.
Outlook Klantenservice Nederland wordt beoordeeld als de beste klantenserviceaanbieder. Het is ook mogelijk om de tech-experts te bereiken via de livechat-optie of e-mailondersteuning. Een van de belangrijkste voordelen van contact opnemen met het ondersteuningsteam ligt in het gebruik van snelle en onmiddellijke oplossingen. Zo worden realtime oplossingen snel aangeboden en hebben klanten relatief kortere wachttijden.
Aan de basis liggen enkele van de snelle stappen om Outlook aan te pakken die niet effectief op problemen reageert
Volg de onderliggende onderstaande oplossingen om het probleem effectief aan te pakken:
• Sluit Outlook en alle gerelateerde processen af via de taakbeheerder.
• Zoek en verwijder de problematische Outlook-invoegtoepassingen.
• Schakel het antivirusprogramma uit.
• Verklein de gegevensbestandsgrootte van Outlook.
• Zorg ervoor dat u de vooruitzichten om de paar weken organiseert en opruimt.
Als geen van de bovenstaande oplossingen werkt. Gebruikers wordt aangeraden contact op te nemen met het telefoonnummer van bellen outlook Klantenservice. De aard van de problemen kan groot of klein zijn, maar de problemen van gebruikers krijgen evenveel aandacht. Technische agenten hebben het enorme aantal problemen eerder opgelost en zijn in staat om nog veel meer te beantwoorden. Bovendien varieert de manier van contact die u kiest, afhankelijk van de behoeften en vereisten van de klant. De kostbare tijd van de klant krijgt de hoogste prioriteit. De aard van de aangeboden oplossingen is betrouwbaar, optimaal en 100 procent bevredigend. Alle hulplijnfaciliteiten zijn de klok rond actief om actief te reageren op de vragen van elke klant. Dit helpt om de reputatie van het team in de digitale wereld te behouden.
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Geen verdere vertragingen voor Vasil hard fork volgends Charles Hoskinson
De langverwachte Vasil hard fork upgrade voor Cardano (ADA) is enkele weken uitgesteld omdat het smart contract platform doorgaat met het oplossen van de kinderziektes.
Daar er feitelijk gezien veel vragen over de hard fork onbeantwoord bleven, maakte de Cardano oprichter een opname op zijn YouTube-kanaal om een update te geven en te bespreken wat de volgende stap is voor de blockchain.
Hoskinson verzekerde gebruikers dat hij geen verdere vertragingen voorziet voor de Vasil hard fork en verklaarde dat de upgrade zich momenteel in de laatste testfase bevindt.
"Het goede nieuws is dat de kans van de dingen die mis kunnen gaan heel klein is geworden. We zijn in de laatste stadia van het testen in dat opzicht. Dus tenzij er iets nieuws wordt ontdekt, verwacht ik niet dat we verdere vertragingen zullen oplopen.""Het proces gaat gestaag en systematisch maar ook zeker de goede kant op en ik wilde jullie alleen even laten weten dat het allemaal goed gaat, dat is de aard van dit soort upgrades."
Leer alles over Crypto en NFT's met deze handleidingen
Hoskinson merkte op dat het erop lijkt dat het team steeds dichter bij de bodem van het vat komt als het gaat om het oplossen van de bugs.
Ook uitte hij zijn teleurstelling over het feit dat hij niet in staat was om de hard fork erdoorheen te krijgen voor juli, hoewel er preventieve maatregelen moeten worden genomen met bugs, "vooral een die betrokken is bij consensus of serialisatie of gerelateerd is aan een bepaald probleem met een transactie."
Vasil moet schaalbaarheid van Cardano verbeteren
De Vasil hard fork, die oorspronkelijk op 29 juni zou worden uitgebracht, heeft als doel de schaalbaarheid van de Cardano blockchain te verbeteren en is daarom zo gecompliceerd. De Cardano gemeenschap wacht al maanden met ingehouden adem op de Vasil hard fork.
Verwacht wordt dat Vasil het netwerk in de Basho-fase van zijn plan zal brengen, waarbij zowel de schaalbaarheid van het netwerk als de functionaliteit van slimme contracten wordt verbeterd.
Adverteren op crypto-gids.nl? KLIK HIER
"Ik heb al eerder gezegd dat dit de meest gecompliceerde upgrade van Cardano in zijn geschiedenis is, omdat het zowel veranderingen in de programmeertaal Plutus omvat als veranderingen in het consensusprotocol en een lange reeks van andere dingen."
Gezien de herhaalde testen door Cardano-ingenieurs, zowel extern als intern, acht Hoskinson het "waarschijnlijk dat deze functies ziektevrij zullen zijn".
De oprichter van Cardano merkt dus op dat er slechts een paar 'randgevallen' zijn die moeten worden opgelost, en het Cardano-team zal hopelijk klaar zijn om een update te geven met aanvullend nieuws rond het midden van augustus.
https://youtu.be/Na09S56FwuY
Word lid van de Bitcoin/Cryptocurrency Facebook groep om geen enkel nieuwsbericht te missen en kom naar de Telegram om mee te discussiëren.
Read the full article
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Getekend werk naar de natuur daaraan tegengesteld
Op een eigenaardige manier passen de tekeningen van Jitske Bakker en die van Cathelijn van Goor bij elkaar. Zo lijkt het op het eerste oog, na één stap over de drempel van Galerie Getekend genomen te hebben. Niet naadloos evenwel, maar wel overeenkomstige indrukken die uitdrukking kregen. Het denkbeeldige landschap, de gedachte omgeving, de beeld gekregen emotie.
Jitske Bakker maakt met houtskool op papier gedetailleerd uitgewerkte herinneringen aan als kind gemaakte bergwandelingen. Toen dwaalde ze door berg en dal, langs beken en over paden. De gedachte terughalend aan wat er na de volgende bocht in het landschap is. De sensatie van de verrassing. Zolang je op het rechte stuk bent is dat uitzicht nog een denkbeeld. Je kunt je er van alles bij voorstellen. Het betovert je verbeelding, zet je fantasie op scherp. Bakker laat in haar werk de verwachting zien. De gedachte aan wat zal kunnen zijn. Het moment na nu, de dag van morgen. Dat maakt je onrustig, je wilt dat weten - kunt bijna niet wachten het te zien.
Bakker tekent het uit, wat ik slechts kan vermoeden. Hopen wat daar om de volgende bocht is. Eigenlijk maakt Bakker de toekomst in het heden. Als in een glazen bol kijk ik ernaar. De grond golft dan ook onder mijn voeten. De aarde ligt bezaaid met hiëroglief achtige vormen. Ook het verleden heeft een plek in de toekomst. Bollen zweven als geërodeerde lichte rotsblokken voor mijn ogen. Stammen van bomen prikken in de aarde, priemen hun kale takken in de lucht. En in de achtergrond verheffen de bergen zich majestueus, als vaste rots van mijn behoud. Want ik verdwaal in het beeld dat Bakker schiep. Ik ben een zwerver, een doler daarin. Op een vreemde manier voelt het wel veilig, is de toekomst niet onzeker.
Dat kind kan het niet weten, omdat het er nooit is geweest. Het landschap achter de volgende bocht is nog niet door haar ontdekt. Was ze er wel eerder dan gaat Bakker uit van haar herinnering, is het een beeld uit het verleden. Maar ze was er niet eerder, dus gebruikt ze haar verbeelding. Het is een door haar geest niet ontgonnen landschap. Dat maakt het meer interessant, omdat de toekomst voor ons ligt en nieuw is. Jitske Bakker is als de waarzegster die in haar bol kijkt en voor ons dit ziet en tekent. En is de toekomst dan heden en waarheid, kan deze worden gefrommeld en in de papierbak verdwijnen. Om toch weer eens terug te kijken op dat wat je dacht dat toekomst zal zijn, om de herinnering aan morgen terug te halen, leegt Bakker de prullenbak en probeert de toekomst die nu verleden tijd is weer glad te strijken. Maar er zijn gaten gevallen, scheuren gevouwen, het is een rommeltje. Zo zoals je je niet alles meer kunt herinneren, het verleden van de toekomst terug kunt halen in het nu. Soort van stoornis in het kortetermijngeheugen. Om niet te spreken van dementie, ingewikkeld en ingrijpend. Maar Bakker maakt van die nood een deugd, ze gebruikt de opgepropte tijd voor een nieuwe vorm van uitdrukken. Vanaf het vlak de derde dimensie in.
Daarnaast maakt Cathelijn van Goor ook beeld van de omgeving. Het landschap in abstractie, zoals de computer het in digitale nullen en énen vertaald. Op internet, en vooral in Google Maps en Streetview, zoekt Van Goor onderdelen in het landschap waarmee de digitalisering aan de haal is gegaan. Ofwel waar de vertaling is misgegaan, waar de nullen en énen in de haast geen orde meer vormen. In de wanorde zien wij een digitale aanpassing van de werkelijkheid, de boom die een beeldhouwwerk schijnt of gevangen zit in een glazen stolp. Dit gegeven gebruikt Van Goor voor haar tekeningen, (keur)potlood op papier.
In de werkelijkheid wijkt de natuur voor technologische ontwikkelingen. In de digitale wereld wordt de verbeelde natuur omgezet in pixels en aangepast op wat de berekening van de computer aankan. Een glitch of bug is de onverwachte output door een kortdurende softwarematige storing of een ongewenst effect in de werking van software. Er ontstaan vervormingen in het getoonde beeld, het is deformatie in de informatie. In deze wetenschap maakt Van Goor haar composities. De landschappen zijn zo misvormd dat deze kloppen op een vreemde manier. Het resultaat is een onherbergzame omgeving, die doet denken aan druipsteengrotten of een uitgestrektheid tijdens de tweede scheppingsdag of na de apocalyptische val van de aarde. Door het kleurgebruik is het wereldbeeld vol van vurige transformaties. Het regent tinten, windvlagen laten kleuren vervliegen. Zonder kleur is er mysterie, doet de compositie wereldvreemd aan. Om de volgende bocht hoop ik niet dit beeld als aanblik te krijgen.
Dit zie ik als ik mijn ogen sluit en het geziene beeld zich brandt in mijn oogleden. De echte kleuren worden hels. De natuur zet zich af, maar verliest uiteindelijk de tegenstand. Flora en fauna leggen het loodje, tegen de technologie is geen kruid gewassen. Dit is wat Cathelijn van Goor mij laat zien, een imaginaire wereld die weleens bewaarheid kan worden. De nieuwe mens brengt zoveel tijd achter het beeldscherm door dat het idee van tijd en plaats vervaagd. De achtertuin wordt een digital backyard, waarin bijzondere verschijnselen zich voordoen als normale verschijningen. De natuur wordt opnieuw geschapen, licht en duisternis gescheiden, het uitspansel en het hemelgewelf.
En dan zie ik het contrast tussen de tekeningen van Bakker en Van Goor. Maar juist daardoor sluit het werk zo goed aan, door het verschil in benadering van de werkelijke omgeving. Jitske in haar manier fijntjes en met oog voor detail en glooiende vlakken. Cathelijn werkt grover door haar vertaling van de digitale conversie van de natuur. Haar vlakken gloeien, lijnen stromen over het papier. Minder grof evenwel dan de wereld volgens Google. Haar digits zijn echte streepjes. Met de hand gemaakt.
Tentoonstelling tekeningen van Jitske Bakker en Cathelijn van Goor bij Galerie Getekend, Stationsstraat 6 in Heerenveen. Verlengd tot 1 februari 2021.
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Moederdag Bloemen - Groen Presenteren Ideeën tot het einde van de jaren
Als u een tuinman bent, weet u wat een uitdaging het kan zijn om ongewenste bugs te weerhouden van het maken van het avondeten van uw prijsplanten. Het is een nooit eindigende strijd, of uw aanpak nu organisch of chemisch is. Hoewel ze meestal minder last hebben van insecten op kamerplanten, kunnen ze af en toe toch plagen ontwikkelen.
De bloemen zijn prachtig violet, roze, rood, oranje, fuschiakleurige, glanzende anjers. De bladeren van de kerstcactus zijn puntig en gelobd. De eenvoudige Y-vormige stekken van deze plant geven u nog een mooie kerstcactus. Deze plant heeft voldoende licht en water nodig.
Lavendel - Alle delen van deze plant ruiken goed. Franse Lavendel (Spaanse Lavendel), die typisch is voor Frankrijk en gekweekt wordt voor zijn oliegehalte, is om te kunnen groeien en bloeien in het voorjaar en later in de zomer. Ik hou ervan om de bloesems te knippen en in bundels te binden en omgekeerd te drogen op te hangen, maar vers knippen en gebruiken in kleine boeketten is het beste. Het is winterhard, in ieder geval tot zone de. Grote kamerplant
Orchideeën in de eerste plaats tarief top in omstandigheden die niet meer dan 80 graden Fahrenheit of dalen onder 55 graden. Systeem voornamelijk als gevolg van het feit dat ze begonnen in tropische regio's waar het zelden bereikt koude temp. Om deze reden zult u er zeker van zijn dat uw orchideeënplant constant vochtig is. U besluit om de wortels niet overbelicht te maken ten opzichte van een onophoudelijke watervloed (omdat de plant dan verdrinkt). In plaats daarvan plaatst u de orchidee op het kleine waterbakje waar hij het vocht vrij kan vasthouden (maar laat de wortels de bak aanraken). Als ze tegen extreme hitte aanlopen, zullen hun knoppen niet bloeien of zelfs vallen. Zorg er dus voor dat de plant bij weinig licht niet te veel water krijgt.
Azalea's Bonsai zijn moeilijk te houden omdat Azalea's geen droogte verdragen en Bonsais weinig aarde en kleine potjes hebben zodat ze snel uitdrogen. Dat betekent dat je je Azalea's misschien per dag of twee water moet geven, hoewel ik daar niet zeker van kan zijn zonder kennis van de grootte en andere facetten. De verdroging die je noemde is hoogstwaarschijnlijk te wijten aan overmatige droogte van de grond.
De exotische, tropische uitstraling van uw achtertuin resort zal worden uitgeoefend door het combineren van een breed scala aan vormen, vormen, kleuren en constructie. Bananenplanten met hun grote dramatische bladeren, prachtige bladplanten zoals coleus en roggen, open en luchtige siergrassen, prachtige klimstokken en tropische bloeiende planten hebben allemaal een plekje. Wat kan u over het algemeen verbazen dat er een meer een positie voor veel individuen meer koud-harde en traditionele landschaps planten. Uniformiteit en normaliteit zijn uit, willekeur en grillen zijn er in terug te vinden.
Cadeaumanden zijn nog een uitstekend idee. U kunt kant-en-klare kopen of er een op maat maken zonder al te veel moeite. Fijne chocolaatjes voor die chocoladeliefhebber, gourmetkoffie voor de koffievriend op de werkvloer, enzovoort. Als je weet dat ze van iets houden, kan je er waarschijnlijk een cadeaumandje omheen maken.
Nu heb je extreem eerste stappen, en kocht een plant of twee, in aanvulling boek, en eventueel een aantal plantmedium, probeer dan een bezoek aan uw lokale orchidee we. Je zult aardige, deskundige mensen ontmoeten, geweldige gesprekken van experts horen en misschien zelfs wel een prijs of twee of drie winnen. Dat heb ik gedaan.
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