#BITCH CAN LEARN SHADOW CLAW AND THROAT CHOP

[gaydiation-poisoning]

GOD when you have an incredible idea for your mystery dungeon character

But then you look into it and learn that particular pokemon caNT LEARN THE FUCKING MOVE YOU'RE THINKING OF EVEN THOUGH IT REALLY FUCKING SHOULD AND-

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Silver for Monsters... (Geralt x fem!Witcher, Part 1.)

Description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part summary: A lonely witchress in the woods can mean only one thing - a monster is lurking through the woods and a contract has been pinned up on a local village's board.

Warnings: A bit of gore, magic, Witchress, a werewolf being a bich, Sigimund Dijkstra appeareaing in a mention (if you do not know who Dijkstra is, look him up, he honestly is one of my fav Witcher game characters).

A/N: This one is purely based on my wish to see at least one female witcher, but knowing that the trial of grass doesn't allow that. Because boy? They would tear Geralt’s ass in half.

Word count: 4.4 K

Tagging: (tell me and I will add you :)) @osgon-azure​ @davnwillcome​

Master list: H E R E

Many of you know me. You’ve seen my face, heard my name, or my tales - maybe you even threw your rotten vegetables at me for what I know. It doesn’t matter to me. Such details aren't important in my stories. But no matter how you might hate me - the poet, the bard, the most beautiful man you'd ever seen -, you love my tales.

Indeed, my name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. But when you'd meet me, I would introduce myself as Jaskier or Dandelion. And my most famous tales are going hand in hand with my friend, the legend, Geralt of Rivia. He is the man coming from Kaedwen, the coldest Northern Kingdom, born and raised at Kaer Morhen, the notorious School of the Wolf. And I have already written tales, ballads, and books about him.

You heard many stories and legends about this man - about the romance of his with the mightiest sorceress Yennefer of Vengenberg, the story of how he was bound to the Cintran princess Cirilla by destiny, about how he had outwitted the Wild Hunt itself. Yet I have one more for you. Sit down, have a pint of ale or a cup of wine, and hear my telling of how... Not one, but two witchers traveled day and night to reach the Redenian mountains and how they discovered a horrifying monster there. But have in mind that one of them was a woman.

Our story begins on one stormy night in the Mire West amidst the rampage of the Nightmare...

The place around you was completely dark and lifeless, only sounds of wind howling and grass dancing in it along with heavy rain could be heard. The moon just started slowly rising in the sky, but it was too cloudy up there. That could be a slight problem in your perfect plan. How were you supposed to lure a werewolf out of its lair if there won't be a full moon? These bitches came out of the lair only under those specific circumstances - moon shining on the ground, nonstop.

The lamb meat filled with cursed oil was neatly prepared in the middle of a road and your silver sword was ready as well, laying on your thighs as you were meditating to pass the time somehow - you let the potions in your vascular system starting to work, making an extremely dangerous weapon out of your very own body. You used Cat potion, so your eyes could perfectly see in the night and a Blizzard potion, shorting the time of reactions and sharpening reflexes to the monster's attacks.

A low chuckle came out of your lips. Meditations were never your strength - Vesemir was always bitching you down for whispering to the others while they sat on their knees, and tried to completely leave their body with their minds. You learned how to pretend to meditate, just to shut Vesemir up, but you accomplished the state only a few times. More than meditating, you were in a light sleep while you still could bring your body to sit at least a bit straight.

You had the suspicion that Vesemir knew that the whole time, but he never said anything since you at least shut up and didn't disturb the other kids who were brought to the School of the Wolf in Kaedwen to become witchers and witchresses.

The memories you had bonding to that place weren't all happy, but not all of them were bad. There was a lot of pain you had to endure, yes, but you had some fun in the process. And you still had a witcher family you could always count on - your best pal Lambert and a grumpy brother Eskel, there was Leo, your baby boy, and Vesemir, who was something like your father. There was Coën too, but unfortunately, he was far gone. And then, there was... Well... There was also him.

The greatest fucker... You meant to say the greatest of your kind - the legendary White Wolf, a man called Geralt of Rivia. It wasn't that you exactly hated him, no, you could count on him and his help when you met him on the road just as he could count on you, but you two never really got along in the first place. You never gave him a chance to start a friendship. And to say the least, he was outshining all of you, always getting the best contracts and money. And you weren't even talking about the fame he got in the process.

On the bright side, Geralt was a source of your motivation to become better and better - you both passed the trail of grasses, finishing it in better shape than all of the other kids that were trained on Kaer Morhen. You were already special - while three males out of ten survived, only one female out of fifty survived the trial. But that just wasn't enough of you, was it? You had better reflexes, reactions, senses, and you could cast the signs better than the other two girls who passed the trial. Even though that, it was too risky to send you on additional trials and Vesemir told you a million times.

For an unknown reason, there was a high rivalry between you and Geralt since the day you met for the first time. And when you heard that he's going to endure some more experiments, you demanded them as well, no matter the costs. You didn't care if it costs you your life, you wanted to be the best.

Vesemir and Lambert tried to change your mind for months, but you weren't planning on letting Geralt win the game. You went through another five mutations under the supervision of druids residing in Kaer Morhen, the fourth almost killing you in the process.

For the first time during a trial, you screamed in pain the whole time as you felt the serums and potions crawling through your skin and veins. When you got up, your skin tone almost matched alabaster, melanin almost completely disappearing out of your body, your hair was completely white and your eyes were no longer only golden - they were glowing. When Geralt walked out of the second chamber, he looked the same. But he has done something you would never expect - he asked you about your well-being and if you want to stop the trials. But you just chuckled and left him in the hall.

Lambert was enough of a friend to you. He was quite a normal witcher with a good sense of humor. You could drink and laugh evenings away with your witcher brother and never be bothered with thoughts about the incoming morning. He saved your life many times before and you knew, that the last time wasn't exactly the last. To repay him, you saved his ass from the revenge of former lust subjects, pretending to be his girlfriend and being extremely mad at him.

With Eskel, you had a more reserved relationship, since he was more of a reserved person - he didn't exactly make friendships, he was just a person you could count on any time you needed to. But you got along at the end of the day.

A sharp howling threw you out of your thoughts about your witcher brothers. Both your eyelids flew open, showing the golden, glowing eyes with a cat-like iris shape underneath. The werewolf was set to go on a hunt - and so were you. You opened up the last bottle with your teeth, drinking the potion in one swing, making your blood hazardous for the monster.

After that, you slowly walked to the path where your trap was laid, finding the creature sniffing it. It was rather cautious with it, wanting to eat it, but not quite trusting it. Werewolves were huge beasts with fur, every one of them growing to the height of two meters and more after the transformation.

They might be looking skinny, but their strength was almost overshadowing yours for good. Hunting a werewolf all alone? What were you thinking? That was exactly what was happening since Geralt wielded the tiara of the best witcher in the world. Shitty contracts for a laughable amount of coin. But work was work - humans, monsters, animals, it didn't exactly mean anything to you. You came, did the job and left, always repeating and never breaking the circle. Although to stay true to the codex of Kaer Morhen, you never killed an innocent being - monster, neither a human. If they proved their innocence, you let them go, taking the money anyway.

But this werewolf, boy, wasn't he something different? This bitch was off the chains, suffocating, hunting, and eating alive at least thirteen girls just this year alone. And you couldn't wait to get your dirty little hands on its throat and chop his fucking head off. You hated motherfuckers. And he sure was one.

"This is a nice, cute attempt to poison me, witcher!" - The werewolf rose his head and looked around, showing you its ugly face, which was half-wolf and half-human. Its claws were strong, which could cause trouble as well - he could scratch you without hurting himself, not tasting your blood. God damn it. - "But I ain't no idiot! I know ya poisoned it! Come out! Face the mighty Nightmare of Mire West!"

So it was an intelligent one. That was a bonus point - you knew that murdering him will cause you way more enjoyment than killing a normal beast would. It was probably only a human when there wasn't a full moon, living in their small, stinky cage, all alone in the wilderness. But if the man changed into such a beast which was able to stalk and murder young gals in such gruesome ways, you knew that your sword was the right thing to put end to his ruling over Mire West.

"I like me an intelligent foe." - You growled in a cruel voice, adding a burst of short, dark laughter at the end. You confused the werewolf a bit - he wasn't able to track where you were at the moment. There was no visible movement in the bushes, your voice seemed to come out of a few different directions at one time and your footsteps didn't break a single branch on the ground, making you almost impossible to track based on sounds in the slowly ending heavy rain. - "Feels better when I slice their throats. They beg like little girls to let them live - but you know something about that, don't you? You enjoy murdering girls and letting them beg, don't you?"

The beast was moving its muzzle quickly as he tried to sniff you. The wet air made it almost impossible. The time was ticking too fast - soon, you knew that the air will clean up and starts to transmit your scent. This needed to be done quickly.

"Are ya a woman, witcher? Ye a witchress? I like women, did ya hear that?" - Werewolf tested the waters, seeing a bush next to his right move. He didn't know that it was an animal coming through here, thinking it was you hiding in the bushes. In the next moment, the monster roared with a raw, animalish growl as it attacked the bush. - “I like to snap their necks and taste their meat, I like their voices begging me to stop, the scent of their hair and the skin. Come here, to my claws, don't try to play with me.”

The werewolf then turned around, his completely darkened eyes were scanning the surroundings in search of you. He kneeled a bit, grunting like a pig as spit was dripping out of his mouth full of sharp teeth.

“You atone to all of those murders? You don't even try to clean your name, try to tell me that you are innocent? I might let you go.” - You knew that this fucker isn't innocent but you needed more time to look around the meadow, now seeing every small detail in it thanks to the Cat potion. You planned various attacks, different scenarios, trying to imagine him overpowering you. What would you do then?

“I know that ya been sniffing around Velen for a while now, crawling through sewers like a rat, looking at every shit I made. I know ya heard stories about the Nightmare of Mire West. Ya a witchress, ya know how to recognize a werewolf in comparison to a different monster.” - The werewolf laughed and crawled on all fours, bearing more similarity to a wolf than a human at the moment. His laughter was similar to a hyena.

Then you jumped out of your hideout and cut him with your sword smeared with a cursed oil. The werewolf wasn't expecting you, so you hit your spot, but not in the range you planned on. The beast roared, sounding like a swine, catching its leg as it watched the blood dripping from the cut.

“Look at ya!” - It laughed, its teeth showing again. Your eyes were jumping on various spots on its body - from its lower paws dugs into the muddy ground as he was charging for a jump. - “Ya look like a cat, ya hair white, ya smug arrogant. Come to me.”

You jumped at the same time the werewolf did, but you turned around and swung your sword towards it, hitting it into its ribs. Sword fights were always like a dancing lesson - male witchers preferred different fighting styles, sometimes heavier and more aggressive than you could ever archive. You could move quicker than them, yet your hits were lighter. You danced on the toes of your feet, the top of your sword carefully drawing eight again and again. Your hits were maybe lighter than male witchers’, but you were able to hit the spot more often with clean cuts.

“Ya can move, I need to say. A second cut on my body.” - The beast growled, suddenly spinning the other way, its claws hitting your stomach. The hit made you fall, he hit exactly the liver and stomach, which could hurt like hell. Yet it was not a hit that would stop a witchress.

You made a rollover your shoulders, stopping on your feet. While you stood up, the werewolf almost scratched your face. That was a no-no. Witchers and witchresses maybe were known for long, dark pink cuts and huge scars over their faces, but you knew that a pretty face always means a half of the deal sealed. Thanking all the Gods and angels out there, Blizzard made you able to get out of its way.

Again, you swung your sword to meet its stomach, but again, it jumped at you in a matter of seconds, aiming for your neck. Its claws tore apart your chainmail armor, cutting your skin. But you didn't move a single inch away, no, you held its arm with a firm grip, looking the beast in the eyes.

First, it didn't know why are you looking at it the way you did, pressing the arm on your stomach, letting the blood drip directly on it. Soon, it felt how the skin is burning as the acid was slowly decomposing it. It was looking you in your cat eyes and saw your lips slowly turning to a violent smile.

Next second, it pushed you away, whining like a little puppy, licking the acid off. But it didn't know that it will only make the matters worse.

“What now? Don't you want to taste my blood and meat? Don't you want to sniff me and hear me beg for my life? Are you backing off?” - You rolled the sword in your palm and prepared into the fighting position again. - “The fun has just started, you pussy.”

With a quick move, you made the gesture of Igni sign, sending fire its way, then throwing a Moon Dust bomb at it. The bomb blew up, springling small pieces of silver everywhere its range was. The werewolf was now screaming like a child - it was burned by the Igni sign, silver was burning its skin alive, he was cut - so the silver got into its vascular system and that was perfect torture in your opinion. It tried to run away into the safety of its cave, but it was just to try to lure you in - in the small space of a cavern could be its brutal strength fatal for you.

It was time to use the Aard sign. You were quick, almost violent with it, pushing the werewolf next to the cave entrance. It bumped its head onto a sharp rock, blood was dripping out of that bruise pretty quickly. That was a moment he might start to believe that you were there to truly kill him like a swine. Indeed, you were there for that.

When it laid on its back, it started howling at the moon - that was a tactic used by a werewolf when the things got out of their control. They tried to call for help from wolves living in the woods. But you only laughed as you walked to him, preparing for one last final blow, still holding the place on your stomach where it hit you.

"Ye going to die, Witchress, why is ya laughing?" - The beast growled out with visible and hearable problems, which made your smile bigger.

"Because I killed every pack in the radius of ten kilometers, you dumb shit. I sold the furs and meat for a fair coin, even got something to brew potions from. A valuable deal." - You laughed and swung your sword one last time - piercing its chest with it. After that, as you heard it choking on its blood and scream awfully, you sat next to it into the mud.

It was maybe just a short fight, but it made you cast two signs and to move at an incredibly fast pace. And the hit into your stomach was almost precise, hurting like a living fuck. The fight took its cost in the form of incredible tiredness. Also, the potions were still circling through your body, drawing energy out of it. You thanked Gods that you had the idea to track down and eliminate all the packs in the area. The contract could've turned out much differently than it did in the end.

You waited a while, the rain started to fall from the sky again, before cutting the beast's head off. You used an old dwarven axe for that since it was durable and almost unbreakable.

Not an hour after that, your camp was packed up and you were ready to leave the woods, riding horseback to the city again. The werewolf's head was pinned on your saddle to be seen by any bandit. You weren't in a mood for jokes, you didn't want to mess around with some lousy bandit just to be dirty from their blood.

You changed into a fresh shirt and made a hairstyle so tight that not even the smallest baby hair had the chance to fly in front of your face.

It was a while after three o'clock in the early morning when you knocked on the contractor's door - his name was Stjepan, male about thirty years old with a wife and two small daughters. That was the main reason why he wanted the werewolf dead. He was also a local innkeeper, so you at least had a hope that you will sleep in an actual bed instead of the woodland full of bugs and branches poking your ass and back.

"Who the hell is knocking my damn door at night?!" - You heard his angry yell just seconds before he opened up the door. You stood there, soaked from the rain, only in trousers and shirt, holding the head in the level of his eyes. He yelled and threw up just centimeters from your shoes, but you kept the straight face.

"Monster's dead. I want my money." - You growled, throwing the head in. You could hear the small girls and woman yelling, but you didn't care at all. Stjepan disappeared for a small moment, appearing after a while with a small sack of gold.

"Now leave and never come back, ya filthy creature. I can see the devil in ya eyes. I will pray for ya soul." - Stjepan hissed at you, trying to close the door, but your arm stopped it. Stjepan tried to shut it one more time, but your arm didn't even move out of the wood.

Geralt would've most likely just shook his head and leave the man - but you were a lot of things, pussy not being on your list.

Witchers, since they were males, had enhanced strength of the strongest human men. Since you were a woman, you were as strong as a really strong man - those who had almost two meters, one hundred kilograms, and muscles all over their body. When Stjepan realized that he isn't able to close the door, he opened it once again, your hand finally leaving it.

"This is less than we agreed on. I want my money." - You hissed back at the man, stepping into his house. Oh, you would give anything just to see him spraying holy water on the spot where you were standing.

"I don't have more, now fuck off!" - Stjepan yelled and tried to push you out of his door, but he was pushed back as soon as his palm touched your shoulder. Some wall pushed him back so hard, that he stumbled and fell right on his ass.

"Stjepan, Stjepan, Stjepan... Do you remember when your sweet little girls asked me why I have two swords?" - Your eyes slowly looked through the opened door, last drops of Cat potions still making your night vision sharp. These two girls were sitting on the bed and hugged their dolls extremely tight, both of them shaking, hoping you can't see them.

But you could. And Stjepan's wife was standing next to the stove, holding a pan as if it could do any harm to you. With your stare still on the children, you slowly walked through their lovely, little house.

"Ya told them that the long, elegant, silver one with the runes is for monsters." - Stjepan stuttered out and covered the door with his laying body so you would have a harder time getting to the room.

"And that the other one is for even worse monsters." - You told him and kneeled in front of him, tugging the sword from the leather strap on your back. The steel was making cold notice as you tugged it even slower. - "Monsters called humans. The worst of them all."

"Ye a witchress!" - Stjepan's wife yelled at you, raising the pan to her hip, ready to hit you. - "Ya meant to help and protect folk! Not to kill 'em!"

You would never hurt these children. They were just children, for fuck's sake - their life hasn't even started and anyone, let alone a monster hunter like, had the right to hurt them and end their life. No witcher nor witchress had the right to take an innocent person's life.

But you weren't playing clean games, oh boy, you weren't. When you had to be dirty, you planned to be dirty as hell. You needed to keep your face straight if you wanted to scare that dick off.

"You better give me my money or I swear that I will kidnap your children and make them witchresses. After all, that's what witchers do when people refuse to pay their debts." - You hissed, walking over Stjepan directly to the bed, almost dragging the two girls out.

Just seconds before you touched them, Stjepan threw another sack to your feet, crawling in front of his small girls. - "Now go! Leave the fucking town and never come back! Fuck off!"

You straightened up and looked at the two small girls which slowly disappeared in the darkness as Cat finally stopped working. Only after that, you finally left their room. - "Pleasure doing businesses with you, Stjepan." - You added with a sour, ironic tone and walked off into the night.

Well, your plan with sleeping at his inn didn't exactly work out. At least you had the money he promised, even if you had to scare a few little kids. You walked to your horse, gently smoothing its forehead. Well, the only thing you could do was to ride to another city so you could find another job.

Well, that was the plan, until a man came across you. He was dressed up in a long cloak, covered in the darkness, almost sneaking up on you. You chuckled from shoving the money into on me of the bags on the saddle, not looking at the person. They must've known that you know about them the whole time.

"I won't give you a single coin, don't even bother asking me." - Your mumbling could be heard in the cold, silent night.

"Oh, I don't need your money, witchress. I want to speak to ya." - The person said, putting an envelope into the saddle looking you in the eyes. First, you checked the person to see if they mean any harm - it was a short man, pretty underweight, his arms looked very weak. He couldn't attack you if his mind was bright - he would die after one of your blows. - "Not me, pretty lady, but a friend of mine. Told me to say hi once I find ye."

With that, the caped person turned on their heels and disappeared into the darkness again. You watched him quietly for a second before you couldn't see him - then you looked at the envelope and grinned when you recognized the seal. That old, ugly bastard, Sigi Reuven.

Or, as the others knew, Sigismund Dijkstra. One of the most dangerous spies on the whole Continent. And that old son of a bitch wanted to talk to you.

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Spearow Line

The more I think about these pokemon the more I feel I’m getting rambly, so let’s try and organize this one a bit more than the others. Once again, let’s start with... DESIGN:  Spearow is honestly a totally bitchin’ little birdy. They took this small, weak little nothing bird and gave it ATTITUDE. I honestly just want to grab one of these things and hurl it like a dart at someone’s chest.  It always seemed so obvious when I was little that Spearow was Cool Pidgey. It’s Pidgey that’s not afraid to shank a bitch.  Fearow on the other hand seems... weirdly generic.  I don’t know if it’s just too similar to creatures elsewhere, too similar to real birds or what, but it just seems clunky and less frightening.  Spearow has this raw attitude that Fearow just doesn’t, so I was never able to care about Fearow. It’s just some big clunky bird that exists.

EVOLUTIONS: Spearow is roughly the same stat total as Pidgey, but mechanically it’s a counterpart to Rattata. Spearow and Rattata are both found near each other, both evolve at level 20, and both do well to help out mid-game and then start to drop off in usefulness. And like Rattata, it just doesn’t have a late game. Fearow caps out way too early and winds up being too weak by level 40 to matter when compared to pokemon that are caught and evolve later. A basic level evolution is fine, but Fearow could reasonably just have a third form.

TYPING: This is something I haven’t spoken much of before, but it’s especially important here.  Normal/Flying has two immunities, two resistances, and three weaknesses, which is fine even if those weaknesses are powerful ones, but its real issue here is competition. See, with 18 pokemon types, there are 324 theoretical combinations of type combos. Sure, not all of them will happen and there will be some overlap, but pokemon has a LOT of Normal/Flying types, and even gen 1 alone had 4 fully evolved Normal/Flying Pokemon. This means even in the very first Pokemon game Fearow had direct competition of Pidgeot, Dodrio, and Farfetch’d, two of which are just all around stronger than it. Yes, multiple pokemon of the same type can easily do different things, but honestly, when the question is “Why has Fearow never been a good Pokemon?” the answer since Red and Blue has always been and continues to be “Because Dodrio is the same typing and does the same things but better.” And Dodrio’s not even that good anymore. STATS: At a total of 442, Fearow’s states are on the low end for fully evolved pokemon, but it’s got a respectable 100 speed and 90 attack... with defenses and HP in the 60s. Speed and attack lets Fearow make a good faith effort at being an aggressive pokemon, it’s just... not as good as Dodrio’s 110 Attack and 110 Speed.

ABILITIES:  Fearow has two ability options and neither of them are good. Keen Eye makes Fearow immune to having its accuracy stat lowered, and it ignores evasion increases of enemies. This is certainly something that can matter, but not something that will reliably matter most fights, and even when it does come up, who’s to say saving that bit of accuracy made a difference? Its second ability is Sniper, which makes Fearow’s critical hits do x2.25 damage instead of x1.5 damage. Even if Fearow had the best “increased critical hit moves”, this would only be a 12.5% chance of dealing additional damage, making it still not very impressive. Using Scope Lense as an item can further improve this, but it’s still only ‘decent.’ MOVES:  Fearow is a physical attacker that thankfully doesn’t waste its time learning Special moves. Drill Peck (which Dodrio also learns), is 100% accuracy, 80 power flying move, which is a fine bread and butter for just hurting the opponent, and as a Normal type pokemon, it’s going to get STAB on “Return” and “Double Edge” which basically everything can learn. It can learn a few moves of other types, such as the Dark type Throat Chop, Steel Wing, and the ever-useful U-Turn, but its only real noteworthy attack is the ground type Drill Run, which both has an improved critical hit ratio and is super effective against two of Fearow’s weaknesses: Electric and Rock. 

Fearow has no status moves worth noting, not enough defenses to warrant using Roost, and nothing particularly tricky. The Fearow Moveset is Drill Peck, Drill Run, Return or Double Edge, and U-Turn. That’s it. 

OVERALL: Fearow is the worst type of weak pokemon: One that’s just outclassed in all aspects without a gimmick to call its own. Fearow really needs a new evolution to be relevant, but a regional form that’s just not Normal/Flying (perhaps Ground/Flying to really abuse Drill run) or  gaining access to Slash, Air Cutter, Shadow Claw, and other high-crit moves could at least let it finally be good at something. 

I understand and accept that with 900 Pokemon you’re going to hit some ‘strictly betters,’ especially when Legendaries exist, but Fearow hit that when  there were only 151 of the bastards, and things never really got better for it.