#canon? what’s canon?

[hudine]

Part 2 of my latest fic. Read part 1 here. Relatives of Witchers have been kidnapped and made to undergo the trails. Jaskier included.

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They'd barely settled in when a muffled voice emanated from the mage's pocket. Alfie retrieved an ornate box and briefly presented it to the group. "Xenovox. It lets us communicate over long distances."

"We've located them, Alfie! But Aidan lost his head and charged in, with the others following suit! The place is swarming with Nilfgaardian soldiers. We need any backup you can muster."

"Bloody cats. Always so battle-hungry. I've reached the wolves. I'll portal there with as many volunteers as I can muster," Alfie responded, returning the box to his pocket.

"Was that Reidrich?" Vesemir inquired, incredulous. Reidrich was ancient even when Vesemir was a youth, the very mage who had subjected him to the trials.

"A friend rescued him from a dire state in a Nilfgaardian prison about ten years ago. The old man has never truly recovered. He's been in hiding with me ever since. But enough about that, do I have any volunteers to join me?"

"I'm in," Geralt declared immediately, anxiety gnawing at him. He fervently hoped he wasn't too late to save Jaskier. Nightmarish scenarios concerning his friend's fate plagued his thoughts since learning of his disappearance.

"If Aidan's involved, count me in," Lambert interjected. Shortly after, a chorus of Witchers voiced their willingness to help. Most pledged their assistance, with only a few like Vesemir choosing to remain behind to safeguard the keep and prepare for the return of their captured kin.

One of the perks of being a mage from the Wolf School was Alfie's exemption from the wards that prevented mages from portaling in and out of the keep. Without hesitation, he created a portal to Reidrich's location. As the Witchers stepped through, they braced themselves for battle. Their new surroundings suggested they were in a secluded keep in the south, given the climate.

The scene was pandemonium as the Witchers clashed with the Nilfgaardian soldiers. However, they had the upper hand in speed and strength. The soldiers were no match for the combined might of the thirty Witchers — twenty that Alfie had transported and the initial ten already with Reidrich.

The fortress was a maze of cold stone and echoing hallways, each one seeming more confusing than the last. Geralt's senses, fine-tuned by years of experience and alchemical enhancements, were overwhelmed by the scent of blood, sweat, and fear. Yet one scent, one he would know anywhere, was pulling him forward: Jaskier's.

The sound of clashing steel and cries of pain reverberated around him, but Geralt's focus remained singular: find Jaskier. His heart raced, not from the battle but from a fear he refused to acknowledge. Every corner he turned, every door he kicked down, he feared the worst, but he pushed forward with even more determination.

As Geralt fought his way through the corridors, dispatching Nilfgaardian soldiers with calculated precision, the weight of his emotions grew heavier. His memories of Jaskier flashed before him - the countless songs written in his honour, the shared laughs, and the quiet moments by the campfire. Deep down, he realised that his connection with Jaskier went far beyond mere friendship, though he'd never admitted it aloud.

Coming upon a heavily guarded chamber, Geralt's senses screamed a warning. He lunged into action, his silver sword dancing as an extension of himself. One by one, the guards fell until the room was silent.

He pushed the chamber doors open, and a scene of horror met his eyes. Jaskier, pale and unconscious, was strapped to a table, his shirt torn open. Next to him, a set of vials and instruments bore the unmistakable signs of the Trial of the Grasses - a torturous procedure that few survived. The trial had just begun, the first of the alchemical concoctions dripping into Jaskier's veins.

Geralt rushed forward, his heart pounding louder than ever before. With deft fingers, he unstrapped Jaskier and cradled him in his arms. Jaskier's skin was clammy, his breath shallow. The realisation hit him like a blow: the jovial bard, the one constant in his tumultuous life, was in grave danger. And the thought of losing him was unbearable.

Gently brushing a lock of hair from Jaskier's face, Geralt whispered a promise, "I won't let you go, not now."

“He’s started. So has the others in here. Once the process starts there is no stopping or it will kill him. I’d say you know this but I forget how young you are with that white hair. You’ve never seen someone go through the process before. Put the straps back on, it seems cruel but it’s necessary to stop him from hurting himself. Damned mages responsible have portaled out and we’re going to be too busy getting these six people through the trails to trace them,” Alfie explained and started grabbing alchemical mixtures to use next, hating to have to do this procedure on his own son.

Geralt's eyes blazed with fury, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. But as he looked down at Jaskier, his rage was replaced by a deep-rooted fear. The man in his arms, the one who had been by his side through thick and thin, was now facing one of the deadliest challenges known to Witchers. And he was defenceless against it.

"I understand," Geralt rasped, laying Jaskier back down on the table and reluctantly securing the straps. Each click of the buckle felt like a betrayal. He watched as Jaskier's chest rose and fell in shallow, laboured breaths. "There has to be something we can do."

Alfie, despite the steel in his voice earlier, looked wearied by the responsibility. "The Trial of the Grasses is unpredictable. Some don't survive the initial stages, while others come out changed, but alive. All we can do is monitor him and the others, administer the mixtures in the correct sequence, and hope."

Geralt's jaw clenched, the helplessness gnawing at him. He had faced countless foes, countless challenges, but this... this was different. This was Jaskier. The one who sang songs of his heroics, who saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath. The one he cared for more than he'd ever admitted.

Alfie approached with a vial in hand, his face etched with determination. "This is the next mixture. It will... it will be painful. For all of them."

Without waiting for a response, Alfie began administering the concoction to each of the six. Their reactions were immediate and visceral: bodies arching in pain, guttural screams echoing through the chamber. Geralt's heart shattered as he watched Jaskier convulse, but he held the bard's hand tightly, whispering words of encouragement and silently pleading with any higher power that might be listening.

Hours seemed to stretch into an eternity. Geralt stayed by Jaskier's side, offering what little comfort he could, while both Alfie and Reidrich tirelessly moved between the six, attending to their needs and ensuring the process went as smoothly as possible.

As the night wore on, the convulsions lessened, and a stillness settled over the chamber. The ordeal was far from over, but for now, there was a brief respite. Geralt leaned close to Jaskier, pressing his forehead to the bard's, willing him to fight, to survive.

And as dawn's first light filtered into the room, hope lingered in the air, fragile and precious.

In the dimly lit chamber, as the first rays of dawn pierced through, the rhythmic sounds of six slow-beating hearts filled the room. Geralt, Alfie, and Reidrich looked at each other, the weight of relief evident in their eyes.

"I've never seen anything like it," Reidrich murmured, awe evident in his voice. "Every single one of them survived. It's unheard of."

Alfie, ever the pragmatist, pulled out a small device to check their vitals. "The heartbeats... they're consistent with a Witcher's," he confirmed.

“So it’s true. There really is something inherited that let’s them survive the trails,” Reidrich continued.

Geralt, holding Jaskier's hand, looked contemplatively at the bard's face. "So, you're saying that there's something in their blood, something passed down that ensured their survival?"

"Precisely," Alfie said. "Though it's been largely dismissed as a superstition, today's events might just prove the theory."

The Witchers took great care in moving the six new Witchers, ensuring they were stable before embarking on the journey back to Kaer Morhen through a portal. The fortress, perched high in the mountains, was now home to around twenty boys — each recovering from the ordeal of the Trials. They had been rescued by a joint effort of Witchers from different schools the two wolf school mages had brought together and it had seemingly healed some old wounds between the schools in the process.

The vast, sprawling halls of Kaer Morhen echoed with soft, pained whimpers. Each child and young adult bore the mark of the torturous Trials, their bodies weak and feeble, struggling to adjust to the newfound alchemical enhancements. The stillness of the fortress was broken only by the gentle murmurs of Vesemir and Eskel, offering comforting words to the recovering Witchers.

Vesemir, with centuries of experience, tended to each boy with an almost paternal care. Though he had seen countless Witchers undergo the Trials voluntarily, witnessing these young souls being forced into this life was a pain he hadn't felt in a long time. He murmured soft words of reassurance, his fingers gently wiping away tears or patting a trembling shoulder.

The shallow pools were a haven for these new Witchers. Warm and therapeutic, the waters eased their aching muscles and provided a sanctuary from the sensory overload that they were now experiencing. Eskel, with his gentle demeanour, was meticulous in ensuring each child's safety — adjusting floatation devices, darkening the room, or gently inserting beeswax plugs into hypersensitive ears.

The soft splashing of water and the muted cries of the recovering Witchers were interrupted by the heavy footfalls of Geralt. He carried in his arms a figure that of Jaskier, the ever-enthusiastic bard. But now, the usually vibrant young man was pale, with dark circles under his closed eyelids, betraying the trauma of the Trials he had endured. Even in his weakened state, his grip on Geralt was firm, as though the White Wolf was his only tether to the world.

Vesemir's eyebrows furrowed with worry upon seeing Jaskier. "The Trials were never meant for someone his age," he murmured, motioning for Geralt to lay him down in one of the quieter pools.

Geralt gently laid Jaskier into the warm water, taking special care to ensure his head was comfortably positioned. Jaskier's face twitched slightly at the touch of water, but otherwise, he remained still, the soft rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still with them.

"He's strong," Geralt whispered, more to himself than to Vesemir. "He's survived more than any bard should ever have to."

Vesemir placed a comforting hand on Geralt's shoulder. "We'll do everything we can for him, and for all of them. But remember, the Trials do more than just transform the body. They change the very essence of a person."

The White Wolf's heart raced as he watched Jaskier's eyelids flutter open, revealing confused now yellow cat slit eyes. "Geralt?" Jaskier's voice was weak but unmistakably his.

Relief washed over Geralt. "I'm here, Jaskier. You're safe now."

[haunted-xander]

If you skip a meal Senshi will materialize next to you w/ food at the ready

[mr-malumm]

Stayed gone but vox narrates his passive aggressive insecure ass scrolling text from the bottom of his broadcast 👊💥📺

[seenthisepisode]

no offence but the reason tumblr is “dying” is, well, yes, of course the cursed like/reblog ratio and the change in user behaviour (because of people being used to how instagram and tiktok work) BUT also the lack of weekly shows. i say it with my whole chest, they don't produce captivating and engaging stupid weekly tv shows anymore because streaming killed that so you have spikes of activity here when Something happens in general fandom or up to three days after a new season of whatever drops and then it's a wasteland. this is obviously an old woman yelling at a cloud missing supernatural and the vampire diaries and pretty little liars and all these other shows type of post but honestly give me back weekly tv shows where i have something to watch for 40 minutes almost every day of the week after work so then i can read and reblog it on tumblr give it back for the sake of my sanity

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Justice League identity reveal where they don’t know who Batman is and one day a bunch of them walk in on him just casually eating yogurt in the cafeteria with his cowl off. A bunch of them recognize him, a couple don’t, and they’re all shocked.

Turns out Batman didn’t realize none of them knew who he was, since it had taken him all of ten minutes and three google searches to put everyone’s secret identities together and he just assumed they had all figured it out by this point. Or maybe he had meant to tell them and then just forgotten. Either way, he regularly interacts with half of them outside of hero stuff and hasn’t bothered with the whole separate persona thing with them in years. Shouldn’t they really have figured this out by now? So what if he forgot? This is clearly on them.

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

Little Gummi and his mummi

[foolsocracy]

identity reveals are always fun

[alyakthedorklord]

Bruce Wayne, sitting in a cute eco-friendly cafe while on a video call with Tim: Oh Noooo, are you sure there’s no way the board of directors will let us get rid of this old decrepit Wayne Factory building that is unsafe for our workers and also for the surrounding environment?

CEO Tim, with equal gravitas: No, I’m afraid they just won’t budge. It technically meets legal requirements on paper, and we can’t prove that the chemicals affecting the local ecosystem that have no other possible source are from the out-of-date drainage system… they’re saying it would cost too much to fix the place up too, which is ridiculous, because we’re us, but our hands are tied…

Bruce, full Brucie himbo mode: Oh I just feel so SAD for all the sweet fluffy animals and the pretty flowers and especially our hard workers dealing with such unsafe conditions… I think I’ll give them all a nice short vacation this weekend, so the ENTIRE PLACE will be EMPTY and SHUT DOWN from FRIDAY TO TUESDAY, the SECURITY SYSTEM WILL BE DOWN because it’s just so GLITCHY, I’m sure nothing will happen to the ENVIRONMENTAL STAIN ON OUR COMPANIES NAME THAT WILL BE COMPLETELY ABANDONED FROM FRIDAY TO TUESDAY- Timmy do you think I’m being too subtle?

Tim, snickering: no no you’re doing great Bruce I’m sure they’ve got it

Poison Ivy, on a date the next table over: ( ‘-‘)-☕️

Harley, through tears of repressed laughter: so… we doing anythin’ this weekend?

[notherpuppet]

Husk and Alastor have a battle of wits, drinking, and jazz. AKA how I think Husk found out about Al’s situation.

Music: JK Sax’s cover of Tones and I “Dance Monkey”

I’m not a talented enough musician so I couldn’t make the music that was in my head lol but dance monkey fits pretty well.

Alastor: Husker, is that all you got? Hahaha, take another shot!

Husk: You ain’t on a sadist’s leash, you can’t know-it-all. Can’t know what I been through, if you ain’t at a beck and call!

Alastor: Ha! I win this spat with ease, looks like you’ve hit the wall. Cuz Jokes on you, I know that too, I know it all!

Husk: You…what?

Al: Perhaps, I’ve had too much to drink this time. Do yourself a favor, banish this night from your mind.

Husk: U-understood.

Al: Hm, good.

[thunderboltfire]

I have unwittingly witnessed a new level of the absurd. Behold, the AI-generated equine anatomy models.

Ah yes, my favourite parts of the equine body. Paster and... *looks at the smudged writing on hand* boob. At least this one looks purely decorative and the being actually looks like a horse. But don't worry, it gets worse.

If we completely ignore the hipopotamus musculature of this one, there's still a lot of things that don't make sense in this one, like a tail that ends in a series of bone spikes and a complete lack of molars. You could make a cool pokemon on the basis of this, but it's not even in the realm of being an actual anatomy help.

I'm firmly convinced this is not a horse, this is something that really, really wants you to think it is a horse. The more you look, the more things look... wrong. The more details turn out to be shifted, bones crammed in to fill in the familiar form, its shape merely implied so that the human mind fills the gap. Of course the text seems like gibberish, because its anatomy is incomprehensible. it's either a parasite or a monster and in each case, it's an eldtrich body horror. I'm kind of angry at how well this joke writes itself.

[xx-sketchy-xx]

LOOOK, LOOK WHAT MY MOTHER MADE FROM CAKE. AAAAAAAAAA-

[chloesimaginationthings]

Yall ever think about how Nightmare bb is canon in FNAF

[sboochi]

*sips tea* it's dumb crossovers time

I guess here King Arthur was a real dude who became legend after his death (in which demons and angels might have been involved). Our heroes now have a mystery to solve, with the help of a certain sorcerer.......

Part 1 >> Next

[noodles-and-tea]

Returning home

[araneapeixes]

silly comic idea I've been chipping away at :) welcome tomy shadowheart poly shipping propaganda show

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

Alfred: Injury report?

26-year-old Bruce: All the blood is on the inside?

Alfred:

Some years down the road

Bruce: Injury report?

Tim: I left no DNA behind.

Cass: I can still beat the rest of you.

Jason: Haven’t died again.

Dick: No bones are visible from the outside.

Damian: I won.

Duke: I think I discovered a new power.

Steph: You’re not my dad.

Bruce:

Bruce:

Alfred: And how *is* Karma doing today, Master Bruce?