AM I NOT MONSTROUS ?

excerpt from shauna barbosa, “gps”. scene referenced from große freiheit (2021). do not tag as other ships, thanks !

announcing a witcher books-centric discord server

This is a server created for the discussion of the Witcher (Wiedźmin) books series written by Andrzej Sapkowski (Original Polish 1993 - 1999, English trans. 2007 - 2017). This discussion involves talking about favorite characters, passages, or scenes, analyzing the themes and messages, or theorizing about the politics and lore of the series.

This server was also created for the purpose to create community amongst the Witcher book fans, spurred by a lack of book-centric online spaces in the Witcher fandom within the past few years.

All are welcome to this server, including if they have not read the books, read the books recently, or finished reading the books - but know that this server is not spoiler-free for the Witcher books.

(Note that this server takes a negative perspective on the Netflix “Witcher” series created by Lauren Hissrich in 2019 and invites criticism of it into discussion. Positive discussion of the Netflix series should not be an expected encounter in this server.)

This is a public server, so anyone may join! Please take a minute to read the rules, send an introduction, and select roles.

https://discord.gg/tWBAsEG8Ea

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(image descriptions for accessibility under cut.)

personal hygiene is important on the path

eskel & james as an early vals gift for my bestie <3  witcher + bonus 20s bodyguard au !

john wick prompts.

      the witcher watches eskel silently as he speaks.

      "someone must stay with the car. watch the road." geralt is not arguing, but he is not denying the truth either. they make no agreement on who will fill what role when they reach their destination. it is obvious. eskel is wounded, however mildly, and geralt opens the passenger door as soon as the car rolls to a stop on the frozen shoulder, leaving no option to debate. when geralt opens the rear door, the boy (who is all boy now, reverted back from his agitated form by the toxins in the first injection that they had given after binding his hands and feet) begins to gurgle behind the tape, the constriction smothering his shouts into pitiable moans. geralt does not pause to listen—it will not change the outcome and they must move quickly now.

      he drags the young man from the back and down the steep embankment to the narrow river of runoff at the bottom of a drainage gulley. the brown water is as high as his calves, cold, and smelling of mud. it will rain for three more days—the entire valley will flood. the man begins to thrash in earnest when geralt dumps him in the water. when the witcher reaches into his jacket and produces his pistol, their eyes meet over the crashing water and the bindings—it is bad luck to look a creature you mean to kill in the eye. cows and sheep, rabid dogs. the beast inside this man killed people from behind. silent but not fast. geralt pulls the hammer back with a press of his thumb and the silver bullet slots into its place.

      a single gunshot scatters the starlings that are sheltered in the trees.

      the rain has resumed in earnest by the time the witcher crests the hill again. he closes the back door of the car, left ajar, and then slides into the passenger seat again. he is soaked—clean, and cold, his ashen hair darkened to sooty silver by the wet. eskel says nothing, just shifts the car into first gear and rolls them steadily away. the screen of the burner phone resting on the console between them dings, lights up briefly, and then goes black. transaction complete.

      the drumming of the rain on the roof dampens the silence but geralt can read eskel's unhappiness without it. the boy was young, no more than 25. even if he must be held accountable for the actions of his other half, what happened to him was not his fault. he was made this way, not born. turned. they have done only a monetary justice—but justice is not what they are paid for.

      "you are becoming a cynic, brother. like me."

byliśmy - czem wy jesteście czemeśmy - wnet wy będziecie

we were - what you are what we are - you shall soon be

pov you just asked him if he knows the white wolf

more book eskel for the weary soul 🤎

Perun the mountains are tricky: it took a moment of carelessness and a bit too much pride and you’re lost after straying from the trail; one slip and hard rocks cut the skin on your knees, hands full of splinters after trying to hold onto a branch, no signal. “you lost, huh? should’ve stayed on the damn trail” you hear and see a tall, broad-shouldered man. he sighs, scratches his scruffy beard and takes off his mountain rescuer jacket “take it, you’re clearly cold” he looks at you and smiles, grumpy demeanor disappearing. he leads you back to the mountain hostel and buys a beer for both of you. you feel like you’ve known him all your life. you look at your hands and before you can thank him for saving your life, he’s disappeared. you finish the beer and feel the air fill with static, as the mountains tremble with the greatest storm you’ve ever seen.

Veles it’s the middle of the night and you’re driving aimlessly, face wet from crying. it was one of the worst fights you’ve ever had, and you feel both hurt and guilty. you didn’t pay attention and soon you ran out of gas, and you can’t believe your luck upon seeing a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. the lights buzz lowly and there’s a song playing in the background. you know it but can’t remember the name or the lyrics. a man sitting in the corner offers you coffee - he cracks a joke but you know he noticed you’ve been crying. you end up drinking coffee with him at 2am; he lit up a cigarette but put it out when he saw the face you made. the cashier doesn’t seem to notice or hear him. he tells you guilt is good only when it leads to change; if it’s just a remnant of past, let it go. you give him a lift and his stop is in the middle of forest, and you can swear the moment he reached the trees he stopped looking human.

Jarilo you breathe in fresh air: it smells like flowers, and sun, and this sour candy you used to buy at your school when you were eight. you see a great crowd of people, full of colour and laughter and music. a young man leads them: bright eyes, harmonious voice, crocuses and lilacs in his hair, rainbow flag in hand. you think he’s beautiful. he smiles at you and your head starts spinning. months later you see him again: he leads again, this time the crowd angry at injustice listens to his every word. his eyebrows are furrowed, he speaks about unity, empathy, and the need to drive the fascists out of our cities. he has never been more beautiful.

Mokosh the train is loud and crowded and you still have hours until your destination. you’re tired and your bags are heavy and it feels like the weight of the world rests on your shoulders alone. you found an empty compartment but before you could feel any relief, a mother with a small child came in as well. the child is crying and screaming and no songs or sweets can calm him down. you’re mad, but you know that she’s probably ten times more tired than you are. then a lady walks in and you’re sure you must’ve seen her when you were a child. her voice is warm and sweet, and as soon as she starts talking, the baby stops crying. she offers you and the mother some apples and doughnuts with rose jam, and you feel like you can tell her everything and she’ll understand. when you get out at your stop you immediately call your mother to say things you should have said a long time ago.

Hull House, Chicago