random fandom

[aroace-madness]

The wolf Witchers want- no, need Geralt to apologise to his bard as soon as it's physicaly possible

That bard Has been working his ass off to fix the reputation of Witchers one song at a time and all the Witchers could never thank him enough for that

But ever since the whatever-the-fuck happened at that gods forsaken mountain a few years prior and since Jaskier made that brake-up song (because let's all be honest to eachother here now, it was a break-up song) things have been going to absolute shit, everyone, all the people across the continent went back to their old witcher hating ways

Geralt has to apologise to Jaskier by yesterday

But when day when Lambert was coming back from a surprisingly succesfull hunt he saw him, Jaskier, with a young, white haired, blue eyed girl trailing by his side

Looks like that fateful day Geralt didn't leave Jaskier with only a broken heart

He had to inform his brothers immediately

Or

The Witchers have absolutely no clue how human biology works and now Jaskier has to deal with the consequences of that

[chromadrop]

brother wolves

[innocentbi-stander]

Okay but, Vesemir taking Jaskier under his wing is the best thing ever?

when geralt first brought jaskier to Kaer Mohren for the winter, he expected his old mentor to like his bard well enough, but he never saw this coming

Vesemir meets jaskier and sees the good he does for geralt

The way he makes him smile and laugh more than ever before, and how the bard brings light back into the keep like there hasn’t been in a long time

He even gets along with eskel and lambert, joking and arguing, play fighting and pranks

The old witcher recognizes a kindred spirit in jaskier, because they are both scholars with insatiable curiosity

Jaskier is eager to learn anything vesemir is willing to teach and he actually listens 

He always has a thousand questions to ask and because vesemir is a hands on kind of guy his answer is usually “let’s find out” which is how geralt finds the both of them in the kitchen or labs on multiple occasions bent over a pot bubbling alarming shades of color

There have been multiple explosions as well

Neither one of them are ever discouraged by this, the messiest conclusions appear to be the most amusing and to the other witchers’ horror seems to only encourage more experiments

And thus, a chaotic friendship is born.

While geralt, lambert, and eskel are put to work repairing the keep, vesemir spends long hours teaching jaskier alchemy, how to make potions and identify herbs in the woods, to make fast acting poisons and healing draughts

He teaches the half-elf the history of the keep and the people inside it, shows him all the hidden rooms and hallways, all of the most fascinating books in the library

In the evening he instructs him in the kitchen as they prepare dinner, chopping vegetables and skinning the catch of the day

Jaskier listens to all the witcher has to say with eyes wide with wonder and sharp with wit, his intelligence showing through with every question asked, eager to learn more

His interest fuels vesemir, makes him invested in ways he hasn’t been for years and he is undeniably pleased to have such a willing student once more

They don’t always learn, there are days they lounge in the library beside the fire and read books, occasionally stopping to discuss something interesting the other has found

It happens before even vesemir himself realizes it, but somewhere along the way he has adopted jaskier as one of his pups, and he has become pack

And vesemir  would do anything to keep his pups safe so he resolves to make sure jaskier has more than words to defend himself with

So he starts to drag him to training in the morning and thrusts a knife in his lute calloused hands, and instructs him on the right way to hold it and how to stand

Geralt and the others are utterly confused by this new dynamic of vesemir and jaskier but they shrug and accept it, you learn to be adaptable on the Path and this is much the safe

After jaskier reaches a standard vesemir deems adequate with the knives, vesemir aims to stop, but it appears that jaskier’s insatiable urge to learn and master anything he can get his hands on also applies to weapons because soon they move from knifes, to a bow and arrow, to sword training

It’s easily the best winter vesemir’s had in a long time, he loves his boys but he’s missed being a teacher and jaskier allows him to be so again

Geralt, lambert, and eskel are okay with the whole vesemir and jaskier thing until one night at dinner as the two laugh over some inside joke about clover that originated during an alchemy lesson that they realize jaskier has become The Favorite

Which just isn’t fair at all considering they’ve literally known each other for a matter of months

Geralt can’t bring himself to be terribly annoyed though, he’s just happy his father figure and his partner are getting along so well, and honestly both of them look so pleased with themselves

But as all winters do, it has to end and geralt and jaskier prepare to leave the keep 

They’re saying their goodbyes at the gate, Roach packed and ready to go, and geralt watches as vesemir hugs jaskier tightly and hands him a pack of “things for the road”

And as they head down the mountain jaskier is chattering excitedly about how he loves the summer but he can’t wait to come back next winter and geralt can’t keep the smile off his face

just something small in honor of getting 300 followers, I love you all!

I love prompts! Feel free to send me anything!!

[thelastsimplewitcher]

Come to the dark side, we have eskels.

[inber]

*puts down the orange juice i was drinking from a saucepan* oh hello! Take a seat. I've called you here on a matter of import. We must discuss

Eskel's fucking codpiece

because, well.

Triss, honey, I love you, but... two steps to your left, please.

Just... come on

Don't you make that gesture at me, goat dad.

A menace. My delicate sensibilities. My chaste virtue.

Eskel is the rainbow and the pot of gold is that codpiece.

A gif of my quivering loins being murdered.

In conclusion: ...did I have a point? If I did, it was swallowed by that fucking codpiece send help

[zechery-deactivated20220114]

Send me to Mars with party supplies before next august 5th

[thebaconsandwichofregret]

No guys you don’t understand.

The soil testing equipment on Curiosity makes a buzzing noise and the pitch of the noise changes depending on what part of an experiment Curiosity is performing, this is the way Curiosity sings to itself.

So some of the finest minds currently alive decided to take incredibly expensive important scientific equipment and mess with it until they worked out how to move in just the right way to sing Happy Birthday, then someone made a cake on Curiosity’s birthday and took it into Mission control so that a room full of brilliant scientists and engineers could throw a birthday party for a non-autonomous robot 225 million kilometres away and listen to it sing the first ever song sung on Mars*, which was Happy Birthday.

This isn’t a sad story, this a happy story about the ridiculousness of humans and the way we love things. We built a little robot and called it Curiosity and flung it into the star to go and explore places we can’t get to because it’s name is in our nature and then just because we could, we taught it how to sing.

That’s not sad, that’s awesome.

*this is different from the first song ever played on mars (Reach For The Stars by Will.I.Am) which happened the year before, singing is different from playing

[shadows-ember]

This is humanity

[siawrites]

Happy Birthday, Curiousity.

[labelleizzy]

Happy birthday, Curiosity.

[the-cimmerians]

Happy birthday, Curiosity.

[icarus-suraki]

Happy birthday, Curiosity!

[lesnby23]

Happy birthday, Curiosity!💕

[emmathefanficgal]

Happy Birthday, Curiosity

[hedgehog-moss]

I saw a sign at a nearby village advertising a "veillée", a storytelling evening, which sounded intriguing, so I went out of curiosity—it turned out to be an old lady who had arranged a circle of chairs in her garden and prepared drinks, and who wanted to tell folk tales and stories from her youth. Apparently she was telling someone at the market the other day that she missed the ritual of the "veillée" from pre-television days, when people would gather in the evening and tell stories, and the people she was talking to were like, well let's do a veillée! And then she put up the sign.

About 15 people came, and she sat down and started telling us stories—I loved the way she made everything sound like it had happened just yesterday and she was there, even tales she'd got from her grandmother, and the way she continually assumed we knew all the people she mentioned, and everyone spontaneously played along; she'd be like "And Martin, the bonesetter—you know Martin," (everyone nods—of course, Martin) "We never liked him much" and everyone nodded harder, our collective distaste for Martin now a shared cultural heritage of our tiny microcosm. She started with telling us the story of the communal bread oven in the village. The original oven was destroyed during the Revolution; people used to pay to use the local aristocrat's oven, but of course around 1789 both the aristocrat and his oven were disposed of in a glorious blaze of liberty, equality, and complete lack of foresight.

Then the villagers felt really daft for having destroyed a perfectly serviceable oven that they could have now started using for free. "But you know what things were like during the revolution." (Everyone nodded sagely—who among us hasn't demolished our one and only source of bread-baking equipment in a fit of revolutionary zeal?)

The village didn't have a bread oven for decades, people travelled to another village to make bread; and then in the 19th century the village council finally voted to build a new oven. It was a communal endeavour, everyone pitched in with some stones or tools or labour, and the oven was built—but it collapsed immediately after the construction was finished. Consternation. Not to be deterred, people re-built the oven, with even more effort and care—and the second one also collapsed.

People realised that something was amiss, and the village council convened. After a lot of serious discussion, during which no one so much as mentioned the possibility of a structural flaw, people reached the only logical conclusion: the drac had sabotaged their oven. Twice. (The drac, in these parts, is the son of the devil.) The logic here, I suppose, was that no one but the devil's own child would dare to stand between French people and their bread.

The next step was even more obvious: they passed around a hat to raise money, assuming the devil’s son was after a cash donation. But (and I'm skipping a few twists and turns of the story here) the son of the devil did not want money, he wanted half of every batch of bread, for as long as the village oven stood. Consternation.

People simply could not afford to give away half of their bread, and were about to abandon the idea of having their own oven altogether—but then Saint Peter came to the rescue. (In case you didn't know, Saint Peter happens to regularly visit this one tiny village in the French countryside to check that its inhabitants are doing okay and are not encountering oven issues.) Saint Peter reminded them of one precious piece of information they had overlooked: holy water burns the devil.

People re-built the oven, for the third time. The son of the devil returned, to destroy it and/or claim his half of the first batch—but on that day, the villagers had organised a grand communal spring cleaning, dousing every street and alley in the village with copious amounts of holy water. The poor drac simply could not access the oven; every possible path scorched his feet for reasons he couldn't quite explain. So he was standing there, smouldering gently and wondering what was going on, when some passing tramp seemed to take pity on him, pointed at his satchel and told him to turn himself into a rat and jump in there, and the tramp would carry him where he wished to go. The devil's son, probably a bit frazzled at this point, agreed without much thought, became a rat and jumped in the satchel, and of course that's the point when everyone in the village sprang from the shadows, wielding sticks, shovels, pans, and started beating the devil's son senseless. (Old lady, calmly: "You could hear his bones crack.") So the son of Satan slithered back to Hell and never returned to destroy the village oven again—and the spring cleaning tradition endured; the streets were washed with holy water once a year after that, both to commemorate this glorious day of civic resistance when the village absolutely bodied the devil's offspring and to maintain basic oven safety standards. (Old lady: "But we don't bother anymore… That's too bad.")

She told us five stories, most of them artfully blending actual local events or anecdotes from her youth with folk tale elements, it was so delightful. She thanked us for coming and said she'd love to do this again sometime. I went home reflecting that listening to an old lady happily tell stories of dubious historical veracity involving the Revolution, property damage, demonic mischief and baffling municipal decision-making is literally my ideal Saturday night activity.

[miseducatedmelanicmuse]

Like a new friend!

[runandhide21]

☽ Verily, there is nothing so hideous as the monsters, so contrary to nature, known as witchers for they are the offspring of foul sorcery and devilry. ☾ - Monstrum, or Description of the Witcher

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[zishiyao]

This might be one of the toughest monsters a witcher has to face.

[dirtycombatboots]

Aaaand more reverse AU. Lil Bleater

An extremely powerful dangerous demon was hiding in the woods, disguising itself as a goat. Just chilling and minding its business. Suddenly there is a boy in front of it, about 17, maybe 16. The boy just starts scratching goat's ears, calling it good girl and adorable. Demon can feel that this mortal has magic, but not that much (by demon's standards). Just who does this tiny human thinks he is? Let's show him his place, let's see his fear, see him beg for his life. Goat transforms into it's true demonic form. Humans always run away in terror or loose their sanity after seeing it. The boy, however, doesn't seem affected. He just offers demon a sugar cube.

Demon: okay, this human is absolutely crazy. He will get himself killed

Eskel: You are cute. I'll call you Lil Bleater

Demon: Fuck it, I'm curious to see how you'll end your life. With how insane you are, I bet you'll die in a decade or so, it won't be long. I accept the name you gave me, I'll be your familiar. Just don't expect me to do things for you

Eskel: Oh, you want to go with me?

Entire Ban Ard freaked out when a student brought in a literal demon as his familiar.

A few years later Lil Bleater absolutely loves her crazy human. She will literally destroy the world to protect him. She definitely will eat Lambert's clothes for making fun of her master.

[thelastsimplewitcher]

brooding witcher, dramatic pose.

[artistsfuneral]

So we all know that Vesemir spends most of his rime during the year in Kaer Morhen and its surrounding lands, only following the Path on rare occasions.

What we have not yet considered is that throughout the winter his Wolves are preparing enrichment for Vesemir.

Eskel has a bunch of tiny lil goat figurenes, numbered 1 to 50, that he hides throughout the keep. The first one is easy to spot, but for the rest Eskel goes all out with his hiding places. Thanks to their small size they fit everywhere. In the tiniest nooks and crannies, in a pair of socks, under mug, balanced on top of a wonky old nail in the far back of the stables. He always finds them in the most unexpected places and they always make him smile.

Lambert takes a piece of chalk and draws dicks everywhere. If Vesemir wants to wipe them all off, he has to move furniture, climb through the rafters, walk across the roof, stretch and bend his body in ways he normally wouldn't have to. It's worth it, tho, when he finds tiny messages, things Lambert would never say out loud to him, but can admit when he's halfway across the continent.

Geralt leaves him treaure maps. A piece of rolled up parchment Vesemir will find in the back of his closet, his riding boots, in the garden shed, etc. They're traditional maps, sometimes riddles, sometimes simple drawings of places Vesemir needs to look for to find the "treasure". It's always things Vesemir would consider a luxury, things he likes but would never buy for himself, like puzzle boxes, rare books or expensive soaps.

[everything-but-the-not-natural]

@help-help-i-need-an-adult @0dde11eth @catscraftsandcommentary @fandom-junk-drawer @thequeeninyellowlace @random-apollo-child @awitcheress

[markvomit]

Mark Vomit (2020)

[david-goldrock]

Explain?

[moran-with-a-g]

We wanted to be able to watch shows when we wanted where we wanted, and now they're forcing us to do that through expensive monthly subscriptions to streaming services.

We wanted to have our email easy to use, to have easy access to our files from anywhere, wanted to have one account for everything, and now gool luck with existing online without a google account.

We wanted an easy to use platform to upload videos to and now you can't avoid YouTube.

They all collect data on you in exchange for the convenience they supply, and it's getting harder and harder to do things the hard way.

[david-goldrock]

Oh god

Sister, I'm so young, I never lived in the before world, I was just struck with an alternative world where these didn't exist

[elisenin]

Hot Summer Vibes 🌞

[norrtam]