#rawrkinrambles

"I honestly didn't think that much about it".

“What?” Dandelion looked up from the fire, lips pressed together.

“We’ve been travelling together for ten years,” Geralt poked the large, rat-like creature he had secured for their evening meal. “But I have more lines on my face than you do.”

“You need a better skincare routine, my dear.”

“Your locket made my medallion vibrate when I touched it.”

Dandelion twanged his lute strings in surprise, and they both flinched. “Foraging through a man’s underwear, Geralt, whatever next.”

“Dandelion.”

“Geralt.”

“Don’t misdirect,” the witcher said, rubbing at his eyes. It had been a difficult season. “Why do you not age? Is it the locket?”

“I’m not a monster.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“And I’ve never hurt anyone,” Dandelion said quickly, his heart racing. “Well, emotionally, perhaps. But what is life without love and loss, Geralt? What is—?”

“Dandelion.”

“Yes, right, well—.”

“Don’t fret, dear friend, you have nothing to fear from me.” Geralt placed his temporary cooking implement—a short gnarled stick—in the fire. “But I need to know. Magic is a fickle thing. Sometimes it doesn’t like to mix, sometimes it reacts in unfamiliar ways. You know all this. We’ve travelled together long enough.”

“I didn’t mean to keep anything from you,” Dandelion croaked, placing his lute aside. “I have just run afoul of it before. I once lived by a different name. Had a different life.”

“Tell me.”

“And you promise not to chase me into the forest? Skewer me on the end of your silver blade there?”

“Gods dammit, Dandelion. I will chase you into the forest if you don’t start your tale. Hurry, preferably before the food gets cold and certainly before my hair gets any whiter.”

- Geralt and Dandelion, Duality of Witchers

I sat down and had a think about it.

(TW: long post; personal mental health experience; fanfiction; gratitude to writers).

My "rough patches" often entail long periods of numbness. Like I'm watching the world and everyone else's happiness through a window. Sometimes it's so bad that the metaphorical window is fogged too, so I have no connection to the real world and the people in it.

I'm stuck in a void with my own thoughts, doubts and demons. It's a horrible place to be. Nothing can reach me there. Not hugs, or kisses, or lovely affirmations from my family and friends. I am numb. Voiceless. Hopeless.

But if I read a sad story?

Something so well written that it cracks my heart in two? That I feel a lump in my throat? That I cry?

It smashes the window.

The tears are like a flood of feeling rushing in. It's dizzying after a period of feeling detached, of feeling numb.

People say "oh, I don't do angst" and I've even seen some denigrate it as "torture porn" (ew). Why would you want your favourite characters to suffer? And there are some stories that lack emotional oomph, for sure. But those stories that are brilliantly crafted tragedies? They are my lifeline.

Because from there, I can brush the shattered glass aside and look for a hopeful ending. After my cry, the numbness is gone and I feel light. Fluff can't do that for me. Because when I'm behind the glass, that happiness seems entirely unattainable.

Because I need my heroes to go through what I do; I need them to endure, survive. I need them to cry, and fight, and struggle. I need them to be like me - flawed, sad, down on their luck, ready to give up - but slightly better. Just one step ahead. Because if they took the step, then I can too.

So, I guess, after that ramble, I need to look angst writers dead in the eye and thank them.

You may not get the hits, kudos and comments of a trope or fluff piece, but I need you to understand that your work is more important than you could possibly imagine (at least to this fan, and I'm sure to many others that are too anxious/low/exhausted to say anything).

Geralt

This dedicated Horse Girl rises before the sun does. While everyone else is still in the land of nod, Geralt’s trudging down to the stables with a thermos of hot coffee to feed, “turn out” and “muck out” and [insert specific Equine jargon for unpleasant chores that need doing at such an outrageous hour]. By the time everyone else is dragging themselves out from their nests, Geralt’s already rummaging around the kitchen while smelling of soiled hay, sweat and the outside. He’s quietly smug because he’s already done something fulfilling with his day. What have you done? Sometimes he doesn’t shower and he’ll go ‘round smelling of “horse” all day. It’s gross.

Coën

 He’s an early riser too, but for an entirely different reason. For Coën, the mornings are prime time for exercise. He’s that annoying asshole who uses phrases like “the early bird gets the worm” unironically. His Instagram feed is just an endless scroll of health gurus discussing the pros and cons of “fasted exercise” with occasional adverts for protein powders. Depending on your setting, you’ll find him jogging around the estate or running sword drills as the sun rises; he pauses occasionally to huff in a lungful of fresh air and plant his hands on his hips to emphasise the health benefits of a strict sleep and exercise schedule. Breakfast is a smoothie of “green” and raw eggs. He says he enjoys it.

Lambert 

Waking up? Lambert hasn’t been asleep yet. He spent all night running experiments in the stillroom, because during the night is the only time the world is quiet enough for him to concentrate, alright? And besides, going to sleep means he needs to get up, and that’s just fucking horrific. If it’s a modern setting, you know he spent the entire night creating spoof Twitter accounts to harass people he disagrees with about a very niche interest of his. When Lambert does sleep, he is not a morning person and will throw his heaviest pillow at whoever dares to wake him. Occasionally his boyfriend stays over and then they do go to bed at a decent time because Aiden insists on “cuddles”. When this is the case, he’s forced to wake up early because Aiden repeatedly bats him on the face until he gets up to make them food. Lambert has asked why Aiden can’t just grill his own damned bacon, but Aiden just says it’s “better when he does it”. Aiden’s a dickhead.

Eskel 

He sets the alarm half an hour earlier than he needs to just so he can hide under the duvet and enjoy being comfortable. The world has no expectations of him in that beautiful thirty minutes and he can just be. If there’s a lover in his bed, then it's a prime opportunity for some extra snuggles;  he loves nothing more than curling them up in his big arms and snuffling through their sleep mussed hair. When he does roll out of bed, he throws on the ol’ dressing gown and looks far too fucking dashing, I mean, what the fuck (Lambert, chill out). He swans down to the kitchen, grabs some toast or the sugary cereal of the week and scrolls through the news until he’s awake enough to start his day. Eskel’s also one of those annoying pricks that can survive on only a few hours of sleep and function as if he had a solid eight hours. Fuck you, Eskel.

Vesemir 

He wakes up with Geralt, but only because he’s now “old” and “old people” are incapable of waking up any later than five thirty in the morning. If he had a spaniel, he’d walk it in a flat cap and Barbour jacket, and then attend to his beehive - looking at you, @castillon02 - while telling them about his plans for the day. He might even potter around the herb garden a bit, and then he’ll sit in the kitchen with a pipe and newspaper while the rest of the world wakes around him. God-fucking-help you if you interrupt him while he’s doing the crossword. Unlike Eskel and Geralt however, Vesemir will fall asleep in the armchair at five thirty in the evening. It’ll be halfway through a conversation, or he’ll snore over the top of a film so loudly that no one can enjoy it. When someone tries to change the channel - or ask him politely to stop snoring - he’ll snap that he “wasn’t even bloody well asleep”.

Bonus: Jaskier 

I write modern and “canon-verse” Eskel, and he always has core traits that I refer back to, with a twist depending on the setting.

Eskel, the Dragon of Kaer Morhen

Brought to you by the Cake Shop.

Keldar is away on a business trip. He’s recently taught Vesemir and Guxart how to use WhatsApp, with varying success. Vesemir occasionally lets autocorrect and/or caps lock run wild, while Guxart communicates only through emojis. 

He’s sitting in the hotel bed when he gets a text...

While Keldar is familiar with technology, he’s not exactly ‘street’ savvy and wonders why Guxart didn’t ask him for aubergines and peaches when Keldar placed the Sainsbury’s order. Keldar writes himself a post-it-note - ‘buy peaches and aubergines, Guxart’ - while worrying over what disgusting dinner he’s going to have to pretend to enjoy in a few night’s time when it’s Guxart’s turn to cook again...

I love it when someone in a Discord server goes off on an amazing story spin, and I sit there [chinhands] and occasionally throwing out questions/emojis/support memes/hypotheticals.