#I went insane writing this the original point was BLOOD and GUTS and BODY HORROR

[alhavaradawnstar]

I should lean more into my associations between Nađis and The Thing (1982)

[keichanz]

Toss a Coin

so today i had the insane, intense urge to write a scene from Netflix’s The Witcher and well *shrug* if you haven’t watched it yet, you probably shouldn’t read this if you don’t want any spoilers, but then again, who the hell am i to tell you what to do hahaha. 

but anyway it’s basically the Inuyasha version of this scene where that one guy is like “HE DIED” Jas is like “eh he’s fine” and then fucking Geralt just crashes through the door because perfect timing. Obvi Inuyasha is Geralt, and Miroku is Jasiker because god it’s just too fucking perfect lmao

anyway, i don’t plan on making this a thing. i just really wanted to write this one part and it wouldn't leave me alone until i did. and I am eternally grateful to @noyourenotreal​ for having the stroke of genus to write an Inuyasha Witcher AU because i would be tempted to do it myself if they hadn’t and I don’t have the time hahah. their fic is called Of Monsters and Men and it’s so good guys check it out!

originally i was going to use the dialogue word for word, but at the advice of a friend and further thinking, i nixed that idea and gave it my own flare so i can stay true to Inuyasha and Miroku’s personalities. I think i did alright.

a random note: basically during the entire time i watched this show i was screaming “INUUKAAAAAAAG” because OMG the inukag is STRONG with geralt and yennefer it is riDICULOUS 

note: a translation of what the man in the first part is saying can be found at the end of this oneshot. he speaks in a Scottish dialect and I realize it can be difficult to understand. 

oh and also tagging my ladies that expressed an interest in reading this ;D @lemonlushff​ @hinezumi​ @tsukinohimeusagi​ 

“It's th' truth, Ah teel ye,” the portly man rasped, his blood and dirt streaked face twisted into a troubled expression and his gray eyes holding a wealth of shocked disbelief, “It main hae swallowed th' bludy village whole! Nary a bain, scrap ay clootie— naethin' was left!”

He looked around while the patrons gasped and murmured in horror, but when he spotted a familiar face gazing back with skepticism, his gaze hardened into a glare. The nay-sayer, a scrawny little weasel named Noliff, narrowed his eyes in return.

“Aye, quite it wi' 'at swatch, ye wee jobby,” he growled, bracing his hands on the table as he leaned forward. “Ah ken whit yoo're thinkin'. We hud wee choice but tae caa heem.”

Abruptly he stood up, his chair scraping against the wooden floor as wild eyes scanned his rapt audience.

“The White Wolf.” With every gaze on him and expressions varying from horror, shock, and excitement, he continued, recalling in vivid detail the fate of the notorious White Wolf. “Ah can still see it—he stuid in th' middle ay 'at frizzen loch lake he kent th' beest was comin’.”

Silence all around as the patrons listened intently with undivided attention, he immersed himself in his storytelling, his eyes going wide and his voice laced with the genuine fear he’d felt just hours prior.

“Th’ ice cracked wide open,” he said, gesturing with his hands as his wild gaze swung around the room again. “An' a selkiemair shot it! Och, yoo’ve ne'er seen a body, but it’d tak' doon a ship wi' its cavernoos gob foo ay devil’s teeth!

More gasping and murmurs of astonishment followed that proclamation, and there was a wild, far-away look in his eyes as he regaled with vigor, “An’ it…swallowed…that Witcher…whole!”

With hands clasped together, the man bowed his head, expression contorted into one of deep, intense sorrow as the villagers speculated amongst themselves, whispering and muttering and exchanging glances.

“Yes, this is wonderful!”

The man faltered, blinked, and slowly turned to glance down at the bard sitting to his left who had, this entire time, been furiously scribbling down his tragic tale of the Wither and the selkie.

Miroku glanced up at the portly man, did a quick double-take, and then paused his written recounting in his parchment book.

“Apologies,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “It’s just Inuyasha is never so generous with the details. He always makes it sound so boring.” He shrugged and went back to his documenting while the storyteller, and everyone else, gaped at him.

“Now then. Please, continue, my good man. What happened next?” he asked, glancing back up at the man with a patient, inquisitive look up on his face.

With a frown, the man diverted his gaze back to the table and brought to mind what had happened next. He swallowed once, twice, and the look on his face was deeply troubled as he appeared to struggle saying what came next.

“He died,” he revealed, head bowed and eyes closed. A collective gasp echoed around them.

Miroku stared blankly at him for a moment and then said, “Bah. He’s fine.”

Completely unconcerned, the bard turned back to his scribbling, seeming to ignore the man as he turned his frown on him, looking a mite affronted.

“Listen haur,” he began, his tone urgent as he jabbed a finger at him. “Ah was thaur. Ah saw it wi' mah ain—!”

The door to the tavern crashed open and as one, everybody – save Miroku, who, calm as you please, continued to nonchalantly write in his book – turned around with gasps of exclamation. The storyteller’s mouth dropped open as a few bystanders not so subtly lifted a hand to cover their nose and mouth with varying looks of disgust.

“See?” Miroku drawled, not looking up from his writing.

Standing before the two men, clutching his sword and completely covered in blood, guts, and other questionable matter that dripped from his hair and clothes, Inuyasha regarded them with a look that was difficult to decipher beneath the bloody sludge on his face. The scowl, however, became apparent as he schlepped forward, the patrons backing away the closer he got and giving him a very wide berth.

While Miroku laughed merrily, the storyteller looked completely aghast as he stared at the Witcher.

“Och,” he breathed, looking truly astonished to be staring at the man who he had witnessed be swallowed whole by a savage beast. “Whit is 'at reek?”

Golden eyes slid his way. “Selkiemore guts,” Inuyasha supplied matter-of-factly while behind him a man gagged and the patrons not so discreetly edged away. “Obviously. Fucker swallowed me whole so I gutted it from the inside.” He snorted. “So, you gonna pay me or what?”

Absolutely delighted, Miroku stood with a grin and sang, “Toss a coin to your witcher, O, Valley of Plenty!”

Nodding frantically, the man reached into his shirt and withdrew a bag of coins before tossing it to the man, the Witcher who had miraculously bested the odds against him and survived being eaten by a monster.

Inuyasha caught it, expression deadpan as Miroku continued his ditty and everyone joined in, raising their pints at him as they sang a tribute to The White Wolf. Unimpressed, he snorted and turned away, ignoring everyone as he bypassed them to unceremoniously drop his sword on the bar.

“You’re welcome,” Miroku chirped over his shoulder while the villagers cheered and Inuyasha only spared him a brief glance before snatching up the pint set in front of him and knocking it back. “Now then, my good Witcher friend, I think now would be a good time—”

Inuyasha abruptly turned his head to the side and spit out the vile tasting concoction that was supposedly passed off as beer around here. He scowled and carelessly tossed the empty pint onto the counter.

“…To repay your debt,” Miroku finished lamely, cocking a brow. Inuyasha glared at him. Clearing his throat, Miroku tired a jovial smile and continued, “Ah, you’re wondering what the in blazes I’m talking about, yes?”

Inuyasha ignored him and reached up to scratch at his ears in irritation. Damn, but the guts were starting to dry and his ears were itching like fucking crazy.

“I have made you famous, Witcher,” the bard supplied point blank with raised eyebrows, undeterred by his apparent disinterest. When still he didn’t receive a response, Miroku shrugged and said, “Rightfully a small percentage of your wages should be mine to claim. However, because I find myself fascinated by your charm and strong, silent type demeanor—”

Inuyasha groaned and dropped his elbows on the bar before dropping his head into his hands.

“—instead I would like to swap out any monetary earnings for a small…tiny little favor.” Miroku tipped his head back and gazed innocently up at the ceiling as he sipped his own beverage.

“Fuck off, bard,” Inuyasha growled without preamble, not interested in any of the favors he was asking for.

“Just hear me out, my good man. Er, half-man,” he corrected and aimed a charming smile when amber eyes cut his way. “Just for a single night of service – just a few hours, really – the rewards would indeed be worth your while, a cornucopia of earthly delights, if you will.”

Inuyasha snorted his opinion of that and counted his money.

“The greatest masters of the culinary arts crafting morsels worthy of the gods,” Miroku tempted. “And the women…” He sighed and the Witcher mused that the dopey smile on his face suited him rather well. “Beautiful, enchanting maidens with their shapely bodies and plump bosoms and perfect bottoms… Ah, truly a sight to behold!

“Not to mention there will be plentiful, sweet drinks to imbibe,” Miroku continued, oblivious to his companion’s departure, until he tossed an impish smile his way and discovered he was talking to air. He spun around and easily spotted the man stomping toward the exit.

“Food, women, and wine, Inuyasha!” Miroku crowed in a last-ditch effort since apparently his waxing poetic did not ensnare the half-demon as he’d hoped it would. He should have known; the Witcher was as tough and gruff as they come, so it made sense poesy would not appeal to him.

Inuyasha stopped and for the first time actually seemed to be considering the bard’s proposition. The women part he didn’t particularly care for, but if there was even a small chance he could get his hands on some half-way decent booze…

He turned, looked over his shoulder, and when Miroku waggled his brows at him with that stupid grin, Inuyasha groaned and muttered, “Fuck.”

Just what the hell was he getting into?

Scotsman’s translation: 

It’s the truth, I tell ya. It must have swallowed the bloody village whole! Nary a bone, a scrap of cloth—nothing was left! Aye, quit it with that look, ya little shit. I know what you’re thinkin’. We had little choice but to call him. I can still see it—he stood in the middle of the frozen lake like he knew the beast was coming. The ice cracked wide open. And a selkiemore shot out! Oh, you’ve never seen one, but it’d take down a ship with its cavernous mouth full of devil’s teeth! Listen here. I was there. I saw it with my own—! Oh. What is that stench?