#you should totally coin the other ideas u mentioned in the tags >.>

[lewdsergendered]

ID: two flags with five stripes, the middle stripe being wider. the first is brick red, dark brick, black, sky blue, and royal blue. the second is the same, except the bottom stripes are pale mauve and mauve. END ID

Pornmasc: A masculine gender related to porn

Pornfem: A feminine gender related to porn

ID: two flags with five stripes, the middle stripe being wider. the first is hot pink, magenta, black, sky blue, and royal blue. the second is the same, except the bottom stripes are pale mauve and mauve. END ID

Hentaimasc: A masculine gender related to hentai

Hentaifem: A feminine gender related to hentai

Tagging @xxxjimmycoins ! >wo

[ivestas]

accursed flesh (1/2)

PART TWO

Summary: You are the only female Witcher in existence, and you are suffering because of it.

Tags: Geralt x Witcher!Reader, headcanon format, blood, death, descriptions of pain, reader implied not to be european/not petite, reader implied to be younger than the others, unedited, etc.

Word count: 2.6k

Note: this idea has been poking me, but can u blame me? the entire concept is so fascinating!! also been craving to write something in a headcanon format since its so fun and easy LMAO; also to quickly add, this takes place BEFORE the events of witcher 3, but not too far before! AND, as usual, sorry for the wonky writing/lowkey ooc-ness of the characters, this is something super self indulgent and i just wanted to get it on paper 

It was a dreary winter in Kaer Morhen. The cold hit you right in the bones, deeper than a basilisk's claws. 

Your body was weakening. The mutagens—they were eating you alive. Writhing under your skin, burning the blood in your body and always leaving you in a state of constant pain. And that winter frost certainly wasn’t helping. 

But you tried your best to stay light—the atmosphere within the stone walls was already quite... unsavory. 

Lambert was still pissy about the facial scar he’s gotten, especially since Vesemir is insistent on using it as a learning lesson.

Vesemir was also pissy because Lambert wouldn’t stop imitating him and taking his vintage hat as a prop. 

Eskiel had wooed a woman—a surprise to everyone—but had then found out that not only was the woman a succubus, but one that had a vendetta against Witchers and had aimed to kill him. 

And Geralt... 

He didn’t divulge in the details—or anything, actually. All he mentioned was that the roads were rockier and coin was thinner and harder to come across.

You tried your best to be a positive force, but it was proving to be difficult. Especially now. 

You’d failed in your quest to find an antidote to your slow degradation, and due to that failure, your body was starting to gray. Patches of skin were starting to rot. 

It sounded—no, is—horrifying. But you’ve given up. And you hadn’t the heart to tell the others that—fuck, you didn’t even know if they were aware of what was happening. 

Only Vesemir knew, probably. You noticed his sad stare. It sickened you. 

However, at night, it was easy to pretend nothing was amiss. That everything was as it should be, because mead was thick in the men’s blood.

Eskiel was beside you, while Lambert and Geralt were sitting across the large log table. Bottles upon bottles of all types of alcohol were strewn. 

You didn’t have the luxury to drink—you found it irritated your already irritated mutagens. So you settled with juice, something that drunken Lambert took note of. 

“Hey... don’t tell me you’re becoming Vesemir...” he slurred before breaking to a grin. Grabbing the vintage hat he’d clearly grown fond of stealing from Vesemir, he put it on with a flick of his wrist. “‘Alcohol is a Witcher’s enemy. It steals your senses, robs you of logic—two things a Witcher needs to survive!’”

Eskiel snorted, the closest to a real laugh you’ve seen him choke out. 

“Yeah, actually haven’t ever seen you drink,” Geralt spoke from Lambert’s side. His eyes were prying. “Not fond of alcohol?” 

A wry smile twisted your lips. “You could say that.” 

“No, wait, Geralt, your right!” Lambert’s words turned loud. “You’re totally right! I’ve never ever seen her drink either! And I’ve never met a Witcher that doesn’t fuckin’ like mead!”

“Don’t get hung up on it, Lambert. Too much thinking’ll make your head hurt.” You scoffed, taking a swing of your raspberry juice. 

Lambert spluttered. Thank God he’s drunk, because if he wasn’t, you’re sure he would’ve insulted you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“But anyway, any good things happened to you guys? Aside from cruel succubi—my condolences, Eskiel—and shitty contracts?” 

“My year’s been quiet aside from that,” Eskiel muttered. 

Lambert chimed in, nearly slumped over the table. “Same ‘ere, but I also met some Witchers from another school... they were assholes...”

“It’s a shame every person you meet turns out to be an asshole.” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that laced your words, but he didn’t seem to notice, instead taking yet another bottle and clumsily pouring it into his mug. 

“What about you, Geralt?—and don’t try to sell me on the ‘quiet roads’ bullshit, you’re always up to something—what king have you been fraternizing with this time?” What sorceress have you been trying to lay with lately?

Geralt paused, his face contemplative. You could imagine snapshots of memories flashing in his head, each one packed with layers of action and tension, and after a few moments of that quiet, he finally spoke. 

“Can’t think of anything. Sorry.” 

Before you could press him further, he turned the tables onto you. 

“What about you though? You didn’t say much.” 

“You didn’t say anything at all, actually.” Eskiel noted, sparing you only a quick glance before being immersed in his drink the same way Lambert was. 

“I...” 

You were a shit liar—the school of Wolves were all shit liars frankly, and the worst part was that they could catch those same lies too in a heartbeat.

 “Well... It’s complicated.” 

“The night is young,” Geralt murmured. “We don’t have much else to do except drink.”

“Yeah... well...” Fuck. 

A part of you wanted them to know, but you knew the moment they were aware of your decline, they’d do anything to try to reverse it, just as you would with them. 

Again, Wolves. The school was a pack, and it would be hypocritical of you not to want them to worry if you would react the exact same.  

Especially Geralt. You’d burn countries if it meant helping him. 

“Been trying to fix a few things.” Were the words you settled with. 

“What things? And were you able to do so?” 

“Personal things, and... unfortunately not.” You stared at the contents of the mug in your hand, your reflection distorted. Uncertain. “It’s too late.” 

Geralt hummed at that. “Need help?” 

The words were so simple, and somehow, it left you silent, as though he asked something grand, something completely philosophical and abstract. It left you stunned, strangely—despite being confident that Geralt has your back, there’s an absurdity to it.

You’d help me?

He didn’t say anything, simply looking at you with what seemed to be a reassuring look. A silent, underlying, muted warmth. Or maybe you were just imagining it—fuck, you didn’t know what to think.

And then, it hit you:

You were going to die anyway.

Doesn’t that allow you to be a little selfish?

“Yeah, I think I need an extra set of hands.” You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, really.”

“Jeez, get a room—urp!” Lambert nearly keeled over. “Fuck! Is it jus’ me or is the room getting a little wonky..?”

Eskiel sighed, getting up from where he was and walking to Lambert. “Guess I need to be his caretaker again.” He grabbed Lambert, forcing him on his feet. Before he could sway and fall, he threw his arm over his shoulder. “Good night you two.”

“Good night,” you smiled.

Geralt nodded to him. “Night.”

And just like that, they were gone.

Geralt looked to you expectantly.

“I know something’s wrong. My medallion’s been humming ever since you came. Is this something to do with your issue?”

“Yeah, uh… Look, I’m not gonna mince words,” looking at him, your voice was resolute. “I’m dying. I think by the end of the winter, my spirit’ll be long gone.”

The smallest flashes of emotion that appeared on his face died seconds later.

“I thought the complications with the mutagens..?”

“They never went away—they got worse, actually.” You frowned. “I spent the year searching, and there was no antidote. It’s like—you know how your body gets influenced in certain ways by mutagens? Kind of warps your body and tissue, becomes a part of you?”

Geralt nodded.

“Your body, it sustains it—men’s body naturally do, because of muscle mass and shit like that. Biological differences. According to some druids, the only reason I got past the main steps to becoming a Witcher as a kid was just ‘cause I worked in the farm a lot more and gained more muscles due to that and genetics…” A humorless laugh tore from your throat. “Aren’t I special?”

Geralt’s eyes averted to the drink he nursed in his hands.

“But yes, because my body isn’t strong enough to sustain and create harmony with the mutagens I’ve been infused with, the mutagens became embedded in my biological matter and have become a plague that wishes to only eat at my body till there’s nothing left.”

You pulled up your thick sleeve to reveal a thick circle of rot. Your natural complexion abruptly cuts to an unnatural dark miasma of a purplish-black with the smallest veins of a deep green and a blood-red. It resembled the skin of a rotting horse carcass.

You laughed again. “To be honest, now that I say it out loud? I don’t think I need help, It’s just too late—“

“Don’t say that. I’ll help you.”

“Geralt—“

“I refuse to let you die.” His eyes burned. His face, although controlled, betrayed some emotion with how the muscles of his jaw seemed to knot, how his brows furrowed, his lips pushed downward to a bitter frown. “Why did you keep this a secret?”

Suddenly, the ‘not to worry you guys’ explanation didn’t hold water. 

You knew there was a reason—there just had to be, right?—but you couldn’t find one, one that you could confidently say out loud that didn’t betray the part of your mind you’d long since exiled from your consciousness. 

You smiled. “Dunno. Too many reasons, too little will.” 

Geralt’s frown deepened. The look made you anxious—but not in a way that you were fearful of him—no, never, not Geralt. Never Geralt. 

But rather, the anxiousness and guilt that you know you disturbed the little peace of mind he had. The comfort that coming to Kaer Morhen was meant to provide.

“We need to fix this. I’ll tell Vesemir, I’m sure he’d know something—“

“Don’t!”

“What?” 

“Don’t, Geralt. Please.”

“Why?” 

“Because you just can’t. This is why I didn’t want to tell you, you guys get worked up and—“

“You’re dying and you expect us—me—not to get ‘worked up’?” He said the words as though they were nonsense—as if he couldn’t detect a lick of sense behind it. “You’re rotting, and you expect me to just sit down and do nothing?”

“I—I don’t know, listen, Geralt, I don’t mind—“ 

“I’m not listening. This topic is over. I will help you, whether you want that help or not.” 

You chewed on the skin of your lips.

His voice softened. “At dawn, we’ll meet and talk to Vesemir. I’ll make sure the other two don’t know, if you want.” 

“...yeah. Thank you.” 

---

It was right at dawn when you and Geralt met with Vesemir in the training hall. 

Geralt was the one to provide the information of what was happening since you couldn’t seem to find the verbal coherence to do so yourself. 

When he finished, Vesemir sighed deeply. 

“I simply wish you’d come to me sooner, child.” 

Your ears burned but you maintained your poker face. Child. 

“Can you show me the... ‘rot’?” 

You obliged, revealing the festering rot your left arm.

Although it was just a small movement—almost imperceptible—you noticed the way his eyes widened the slightest bit. 

You were completely fucked if it took Vesemir of all people by surprise. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this...” 

“At least I’ll leave a mark on history in my own way: ‘first female Witcher, dies of perpetual rot!’ Hope my name’s the label for this illness.” 

Vesemir ignored you. So did Geralt, but you weren’t blind to the quick glance he gave you. “I can only think of one way that could perhaps cease—or better yet, reverse this, and it’s if we can pry the mutagens out of your body.”

"That’s impossible. Doesn’t the Trial of Grasses make it impossible to do that?”

“Yes, unfortunately... but there’s hope. Perhaps the mutagens you have now could be swapped with a weaker set, letting your body overpower and take control.” 

“And how’d we do that?” 

Vesemir paused. 

Geralt was the one to speak, and he spoke slowly. Quietly. “Another Trial of Grasses..?”

“No, no, no—fuck no.” You stepped back, glaring at Geralt. “I’d rather die than go through that again!”

Geralt crossed his arms, brows furrowed slightly. “I doubt it would work… her body’s grown and the mutagens had long since become ingrained in her, right?”

Vesemir frowned, nodding. “Yes, but it’s the only way.”

“I’m not doing this. You’re not gonna make me do this. There’s no way in any circumstance you’ll make me commit to this. No. Don’t even try.”

“Then you have any ideas?” Geralt glared at you. “Because I’m not just gonna let you die.”

“Fuck if I know! Look, I don’t mind, at all! It’d be nice to die on my bed than in battle—“

“Don’t be selfish!” He snapped. “You’re not gonna die. Not now, not in a hundred years.”

Conviction bled in his words. You fell silent.

He turned to Vesemir once more. “Are you sure there aren’t any alternatives? Something less intensive?”

Vesemir rubbed his chin with a hand. “I can think of something, but it’s requires a lot more time—forming a pact with someone with equal or greater power—someone who has the same or similar mutagens to hers.”

“So I gotta find a basilisk and form a pact with it? To be honest, I don’t want my soul companion to be the same things I’m meant to slay—“

“I’ll do it.”

Your brain froze for a second.

You glanced at Geralt.

“What?”

“I’ll form a pact with you, if you’d like—better than a basilisk, right?”

“You’d do that?” With someone like me?

A small smile pulled at his lips for a second. 

Your heart twisted in deep warmth, and for a second in time, the impenetrable cold and gloom of your mind bathed in that momentary spark. 

Vesemir clasped his hands together. “That’s perfect! If this goes as according to plan, the rot should at least cease the festering—hopefully, it even heals over! But right now, let’s focus on the pact—both of you, draw some blood. 

Geralt took the dagger hung at his waist and drew a quick line of blood on the palm of his hand. 

He offered you the blade. You took it gratefully. 

Drawing a line for yourself on your hand, you nodded to Vesemir. “Done.” 

“Now both of you, hold hands.” 

You did as instructed, taking Geralt’s hand and clutching it tightly. It was warm. You couldn’t look at him in the eyes. 

Though you could’ve sworn you heard a breathless laugh from him. 

“Now, two of you, repeat after me: ‘with time shall it come, chimes of dark bells, synchronous melody that forms two into One. We shall become One.’”  

In tandem, you and Geralt echoed the words. 

A beat later, something strange took over you; an out of body experience, something that seemed to rip you of your senses for a moment and left you breathless—as if your body was robbed, and your spirit was all that was left to exist. 

In that same beat, pieces of your mind seemed to snap into something foreign, something completely unfamiliar—feelings, memories, thoughts, ideas... they changed, eclipsed into a thing both familiar but distant. Icy but full of warmth. 

And, instantaneously, the pains of your body—they ebbed, weakened, and diminished. 

The pain was dead. The ache scrubbed clean from your limbs. You were whole. 

When you regained your bearings, you couldn’t stifle the giddy laugh that jumped out your throat, the newfound energy coursing through you like that of a mountain’s great river. “Fuck that feels good, I actually feel my age!” 

Vesemir pointed to something. “Your arm, child. It’s...”

You look down to your left arm. 

It’s miraculously healed—skin smooth and in full color.

You grin became impossibly bigger. “Oh my God!” You turned to Geralt who had seemed to have regained his senses. “Thank you Geralt, thank you so, so, so much!” 

He smiled. It struck warmth in you, and at that moment, you were sure he felt it too.  

Note: I have some ideas for the part 2 (where the actual romance actually happens LMAO) but if you guys have any, drop by in the ask or dm me 🥳 orrr, if you want to request a geralt fic, DO SO!! wpuld love to get some geralt requests hehehhehehehheeh

[llawlietofficial]

What type of characterisation do u like for fics? I do find that fic from back in the day is mostly 1 dimensional but I was curious what ur issues w it where?

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to answer this but I’m gonna be real my opinions on stuff like this have led to me being labeled toxic to the point where people have literally implied they want me and people who share similar opinions with me to leave the fandom, so I’ve been kind of hesitant to answer something like this bashing some recent characterization again. So if you’re one of those people I’m sorry and you should probably stop reading now.

opinions under the cut with some lawlight characterization stuff I don’t like + some stuff I do like:

Honestly? I try and read at least the first chapter or so of every new lawlight fic in the tag and recently it’s been impossible for me to enjoy a lot of it because when I read it it just doesn’t feel like L and Light to me at all? Like it feels like someone at some point wrote a big fic with strong characterization and interesting characters, except they weren’t much like L and Light and they acted in ways L and Light wouldn’t act. And a lot of fics now are based off that same characterization, which in turn inspires fics with that characterization, rinse and repeat. And that’s just not enjoyable to me when I’m looking to read lawlight fanfiction.

Obviously old lawlight fanfiction wasn’t all 100% perfect and there were a lot of doozies in that mix too but it felt like there were more really solid multichapter fics that might have been messy and toxic in ways but they made sense with the canon characters. And fics that did have a happy ending and some fluff thrown in were still written using circumstances that could be believable, even if it took a long time or a slow burn to get there.

To answer your question more specifically, here’s some common tropes that feel out of character to me (and I’m not calling out any specific author or saying fics that do any of these things are poorly written because they’re not and we have a lot of talented and dedicated people here):

Either one of them changing their principles and switching sides within the first 20k words and without a LOT of persuading. IMO “we’re two sides of the same coin and not that different despite both being hugely stubborn” is shit I love, “actually I’ve sided with you secretly the whole time/your magical dick has cured me of disagreeing with you/I’m willing to sacrifice the principles I literally died for in canon easily because I want to be with you” is shit I don’t love.

“We suddenly agree and work super well together as partners now that we’re in an AU and there’s no death note” doesn’t feel authentic to me because death note or no death note their entire outlook on the world is different. Light would think L’s methods are disgusting. L would think Light’s initial idealism is naive. Light believes mankind is inherently good and once you get rid of the bad that can shine, L…doesn’t seem to share that. That’s not to say they can never work together but the good shit is when it’s a long journey into understanding each other and where they’re coming from and slowly making compromises and falling in love.

L being a naive uwu tries his best baby who’s being taken advantage of by Light. Light being a misguided uwu baby who tries his best and is being taken advantage of the whole time by L. They’re more complex than that and they’re both bad people but they also both have good sides so any sort of simplification of the characters into one being a villain and one being a victim is uninteresting to me. 

They shouldn’t work but somehow despite everything they do, because they’re alone and because despite disagreeing and being enemies by circumstance and by beliefs, they know without the other they’d never really be challenged or fulfilled. That’s neat. I like that. It’s messy. They’re drawn to each other even as they’re disgusted with each other.

It’s more interesting when they are their own conflict rather than the conflict solely coming from outside sources.

The 500000 fics where Light is a rebellious and progressive omega who actually secretly wants to be protected by L and feels grateful that they’ve found each other? don’t love that. I dislike omega fics in general even if there’s a couple I’ve thought were pretty alright so that doesn’t help either. It is kind of interesting that despite their differences this could be an in-universe reason to force them together. It just seems like omegafic is the lawlight default right now. Like even fics where the plot doesn’t revolve around omegaverse stuff is sometimes omegaverse and that’s ? hard for me to wrap my brain around? that’s not just a lawlight problem though that seems to be happening in a lot of fandoms

Similarly to point one, either of them being okay with losing like lol what. 

yotsuba can be difficult to tackle because there’s so much going on there with the characters, but there’s so many interesting layers to explore and dive into that sometimes get ignored in favor of fluffy hijinks and that’s boring to me. from Light’s perspective L took everything from him and has made his life pretty miserable because of this whole Kira thing and catching the real Kira is the only real thing that could totally clear Light’s name and L just sort of….gives up, for a lot of it. mopes about and acts unmotivated and uninterested because Light isn’t Kira. that’s probably very frustrating for light! and fun wacky fluff or hijinks can happen, but I love when it happens in the “we got so distracted being the smartest people in the room we forgot we’re supposed to be enemies” way because that’s juicy to me

sometimes it’s the little things, too, that bother me. stuff that’ll happen and it’ll completely pull me out of the story. like L Lawliet made Naomi Misora destroy her whole damn computer after he slid into her DMs and you really think there’s any way in hell he’d have any sort of google home or siri or alexa? or casual social media, even under fake names? facebook knows everything. or light saying something or making a joke that i could never in a million years see him saying in canon because the author thought it would be funny or cute. 

anytime Light is suddenly some kind of beacon of goodness champion of justice just because he didn’t find the death note. the death note didn’t make him a completely different person, he’s bitter and jaded and thinks some people would be better off dead even before getting the death note. self righteous yeah totally but actually righteous? nah man

or Light just being a fucking awful person who kidnaps and r*pes L because he lusts after him but it’s okay because somehow in the end they end up together ? i’ve seen that trope a few times and i know it existed in 2007 too i just avoided it like the plague then also. 

I see a lot of AUs that are less “what would L and Light legitimately do if this was the situation or universe they were placed in” and more “i want to write this situation happening like this and i want to make it lawlight because that’s my main ship” 

like, the characters that are being written are fine but if you want to write OCs right OCs. I know all of this seems really harsh which is why I put a warning about it at the beginning, and of course I know some of these problems were also prevalent between 2013-2017 and there’s tropes here that have been happening like this since the dawn of lawlight fanfiction, but since it’s happening now and now is when i’m frustrated by it now is what i’m complaining about, it could be the reason i go back to older fanfiction so much is because i had lower standards back then and it was easier for me to wade through the ones i hated to get to ones i liked and now it’s easy for me to find those again. who knows. Also I agree most fanfiction from 2007-2009 were pretty 1 dimensional. 

And like, fuck me I guess but I actually like the canon characters and I joined the fandom to experience more of them and apparently that makes other people feel unsafe.

I’m not saying people aren’t allowed to express opinions that are different than me or that I Know Better Than Everyone Else or that I don’t like people posting their own headcanons or ideas or things they wish were different about the series, it’s just not my cup of tea and it’s a little frustrating that fanon is mostly all I get in fics now and that people are allowed to express opinions but only if those opinions are “people who stick too close to canon are elitist and should die and are sticks in the mud and need to leave the fandom to stop ruining things for everyone else” because like, we’re people too?

Anyway sorry this veered in a bit of a different direction and I hope I don’t lose followers over this because it’s sad to see people go but I’ve been blogging here for over 5 years and I’m not going to stop anytime soon. I also wrote most of this while having bad anxiety at like 3am last night so it’s all over the place and i’m probably going to think of like eight things in the shower later I forgot to mention because i’ve been thinking over this ask for like two weeks now. 

[joinhour-blog]

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