#Elen is babbling

[elenthyaolyenths]

ok "Soft Pastel" brush from Medibang is my new true love. Period.

Sorry G Pen Soft. I still like you, dear.

and, yes, it's for DMTTM written by @captainblou

in case some of you all are still hesitating to read this awesome AU. Please let me kindly say to you WTH are you waitiiiiiiiiiing!!!

Read on Ao3

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[elenthyaolyenths]

"100 years"

"I believe in you and in our hearts we know the truth And I believe in love and the darker it gets, the more I do..."

Fallen in love for this song, twice. I loved it from the first listen. The rythmics, the melody, this passionnate voice. The love, the freedom, the strengh within. The way it starts gently then becomes this rough, savage, beautiful thing.

Then I studied the meaning - english is not my native language, I needed to read the lyrics and analyse it. And I've fallen in love for this song, second time.

"...And then it's just too much, the streets, they still run with blood A hundred arms, a hundred years, you can always find me here And Lord, don't let it break this, let me hold it lightly Give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly..."

So much to say about it. Go and listen to it.

ok what’s your florence + the machine song. mine is rabbit heart (raise it up)<3

[elenthyaolyenths]

[Work in Progress...]

"Falling Starmaker" - "If only I could have been there for you."

Headcanon? Aziraphale saw the Starmaker's Fall, but didn't (couldn't) intervene.

6 thousand years later, he still regrets. He should have been there for him.

Sorry, this WIP can be difficult to understand for now, so here is my pic ref. I am still wondering if I will acheive this one in "Red Art" style, or if I'll try to colour it - colouring is not easy for me, I am still a beginner...

What do you think, dear Good Omens fam?

See ya!

Share the Ineffable love! Don't forget to 💕/ reblog ;-)

[tendertenebrosity]

Confession

Getting a little burned out on the novel, so here is something fun, whumpy and minimally edited, featuring Julien, my old OC.

“All right,” the guard who’d driven the cart said. “I think it’s time. Say your piece.”

The crowd hushed, then stirred and hushed again, like ripples of condemnation spreading across the sea of faces looking up at Julien, where he stood on the dais.

He had already been trying to hold his head up as well he could in the face of the crowd; he made more of an effort. The chains on his wrists clinked - they made it impossible to stand as straight as he would have liked.

“I,” he began, and had to stop to wet his lips. “I am… Julien Monthaith, formerly Julien Caithir. Until recently, self-styled Prince Regent and First of the Council of Chiefs. Known to many of you as the Usurper.”

A murmur ran across the crowd. Well, it’s true, he thought. Did you think I didn’t know you called me that? It stopped hurting me a long time ago. Didn’t it?

He tried not to pick faces out of the crowd. Elene had wanted this to be done at the time when there’d be peak traffic in the square, but he’d probably have drawn people here no matter what hour. Is there not one of you whose life was better under my rule? Not one of you who I helped? Nobody with me to thank for their job, their education, their son or daughter still being alive?

They’d be unlikely to say so, if there was. Not in this crowd.

“I confess. To conspiring with Laithann’s enemies, subverting her laws and her sovereignty, and oppressing her people.” He took a deep breath. “I confess to treason. To betrayal of my family and the rightful heir. My seizure of the throne was unlawful, and the titles I claimed illegitimate. I now pledge my loyalty - completely and unreservedly - to the true and rightful monarch of Laithann, Queen Elene.”

That last part was true. He suspected nobody would really believe it, but it was. Actually all of it was true - he had just left out any lines in which he said he regretted any of it. Perhaps unwise of him, when he’d been given the leeway to write his own words rather than just rattling off whatever confession he’d been given to memorise in his cell.

Faolan had fought hard to save his life, Julien knew. Elene could change her mind just as easily.

Maybe one day you’ll understand, Elene. Of all of us, you surely know more than even me of what they were capable of.

Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. Julien wasn’t sure he could blame her.

The crowd started up again once it was obvious Julien had finished talking. A babble of voices, some of them jeering and angry, some of them almost jubilant.

Not many of those. He was a little surprised - nobody had laughed or cheered at most of the public punishments Julien had been to, but he thought this time would be different.

This time it was Julien.

“All right,” the second guard said. Julien knew her; she’d been a Montaith soldier since she was old enough to hold a sword. “One down, four to go.”

The guards motioned for Julien to come down off the dais, and he came easily, his head held high.

He had a sickening feeling he wasn’t going to be able to keep that up for long, as they fastened the short length of chain between his wrists to a rope behind the cart.

The cart set off, with Julien walking behind it, the Montaith soldier guard a little way behind him.

Oh, they were only going slowly. A walking pace. This was supposed to be humiliating, not lethal. But somehow - when he’d pictured this, in the small hours of the morning - he hadn’t accounted for how tiring this would be after the first street. How heavy and awkward it was with his wrists in chains in front of him.

Even before the gauntlet really started.

How did they decide who got to take part in this bit? He wondered, with a detachment he tried to cling to. Was there a lottery, was it whoever got there first, had they appointed people… surely competition had been fierce.

The first stick that cracked across his shoulders made him stagger, but he kept his feet. Pain in a line across his back, not unbearable, just - striking. Distracting. Enough to make him hiss between his teeth but nothing more. The crowd was weirdly quiet here, too - Julien had always kind of thought there was supposed to be a lot of noise at this sort of thing?

The second - the third -

He fell at the fifth, couldn’t get his feet underneath him fast enough to keep up with the cart. The Montaith guard was quick on her feet though, calling for the cart to stop before he could be dragged far at all, scooping him up off the road.

“Thank you,” he said, dazed, his arms and knees afire, as she steadied him. Like an idiot.

She looked at him like - oh, like he was disgusting. And he was, wasn’t he? That was what all this was about.

He’d done this for them. Hadn’t he? In the beginning. He let his gaze drift, unfocused over the crowd as they started to walk again. Someone stepped forward - he did not look at them - whistle, crack, across his shoulders.

I did it for you. And you hate me.

That’s fine.

-

They didn’t have him walk all of the way around the city. After all, they weren’t trying to kill him. Then again, he thought dizzily on one of the sections when he’d been allowed to climb up into the back of the cart and rest with his head on his folded aching arms, if some overenthusiastic citizen had suspiciously good aim, if the guards were a little too slow in calling a stop to things… what was Faolan going to do about it?

There were five major squares in the city. Julien stood in the centre of each, on a dais or atop steps if there were any. He said the words he’d prepared - project your voice, Julien, what sort of public speaker are you, he thought with vague hysteria at the third stop, with blood seeping through the shoulders of his shirt and the knees of his pants, and his legs trembling. He'd bitten his cheek at the last fall. Not going to command any hearts and minds if you mumble!

The crowd murmured angrily, and swallowed up his speech like an empty cavern with no echoes, and arranged itself behind the lines of people with switches to watch him walk through again.

The Montaith guard - what was her name? He knew it - hauled him up each time he fell, told the other guard to stop the cart and bundled him up into it on the last stretch. He didn’t thank her again. Even if he’d wanted to… he didn’t have the breath or thought to spare for anything but pain.

-

“I… I…” Julien blinked, his vision blurry. His ears roared; was it the crowd? Or just in his head? He couldn’t see them. The crowd he knew was there.

He was supposed to be talking.

Blood was trickling through his hair and down the side of his face; he made a cut-off movement of his hand to try and brush it aside, but the metal around his wrists was so heavy he didn’t get it more than a few inches.

He clung to the arm of the guard shamefully tightly, knowing that if he didn’t he would fall. He had lost count of how many times he had fallen, and it hurt more every time. And the words - he needed to get out the words. What had the words been?

“I am Julien Montaith,” he said, to whoever might be there. “I am… I was… self, self-styled, Prince Regent, and… and… I am the Usurper.” The words he’d repeated to himself in the cell below the palace were gone, and he floundered after them. God, everything hurt. Everything hurt so much.

“And?” she muttered at his side.

“I confess,” he started, and let his head sag. “I’m sorry. I’m trying. I confess - I don’t - I confess to treason, and betrayal, and - and - I seized - I conspired - please, I’m trying….”

Was the crowd roaring still? Had they heard him? It was really important that the crowd heard him.

His knees were jelly. His whole body seemed to throb, in time with the roaring in his ears, except for one long stripe from shoulder to opposite hip that burned no matter what everything else was doing. It felt deep. What had it been? Who had it been?

“Come on,” the guard said, giving him a little shake. It hurt, but he didn’t think she meant it to. She was going in and out of focus. “Nearly done. This is the last time.”

It was? Julien wasn’t certain.

He lifted his head anyway. “I c-confess to the betrayal of Laithann,” he said, the words coming out strained but audible. They were just words, he no longer really understood their meaning; it had seemed really important to him when this had started that he mean it, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. “The titles I… I claimed were not l-lawful or le…legitimate.” This last bit was the most important, wasn’t it? “I pledge… I pledge my loyalty to the true Queen, Elene...”

“There,” the guard at his side said. “Finally. Done.”

“No, it’s not. He hasn’t said it properly,” someone said, distant - the other guard? “That wasn’t what he said at the other stops. It wasn’t what he was supposed to say.”

“Look, I think it’s all we’re going to get,” the guard at his side said. She let go of Julien’s arm - he swayed - slithered down onto his knees on the cobblestones.

Everything was spinning. Everything hurt. He’d said the words wrong. Were they going to make him walk? He could not. He could not walk. He heard the guards arguing quietly over his head, and the dissatisfied muttering of the crowd.

If Julien could have talked, he would have told them just to run him through right here, if they were going to try and make him walk more. Would the crowd finally cheer at that? Or would they just - buzz and roar, like so many bees?

I loved you once, he thought, with difficulty, through the fire raging across his back and his head and his joints. You loved me, once. His mind had shrunk down to just his body, just pain, and something important was behind that thought but he couldn’t think of what it could be.

Evidently the Montaith guard won. They slung Julien’s arms over their shoulders, and loaded him into the cart, and took him home.

Did I say I was sorry? Am I sorry?

I don’t think I am. Still.

[elenthyaolyenths]

Everybody else: It's Monday, time to get back to serious work!

My schedule: You currently have 10 Works In Progress.

Me:

Me as a self-taugh fanartist in the Good Omens Fandom: having 10 works in progress, but starting another one. 🙃

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[elenthyaolyenths]

Elenthya "Searching for a key that doesn't exist".

It's who I am, what I do.

My life, my way of thoughts, my once-burn-out-and-never-healed mind. My job. My no-cure chronic pain. My art, my writings. My lonely heart. My imagination.

Never really resting, always searching, even if there is no real solution. Always thinking and questioning and creating and dreaming. Never in peace longer than a few moments.

Sometimes it's a blessing, sometimes it's a curse. Sometimes, both.

It's me.

😶🙄😏😁

[anghraine]

For the voice meme: @elen-aranel also asked for #22, I’ll talk about something that makes me happy.

[livingonmyown]

Happy Birthday @craiteys​ !!! 🥳 I hope all your birthday wishes and dreams come true.

Here is a little gift-fic for your birthday 🎁 Inspired by your lovely Cirillach fic ‘I Give You My Heart’ - hope you like it 😉

**

The moon was high in the sky when he wakes. Its shining through the open windows of their small cottage in Toussaint, illuminating the cozy bedroom. The moonlight catches Avallac’h’s attention, but before he fully opens his eyes, he feels a tiny, clammy finger on his lower lip, and he smiles gently, recognizing the touch immediately. It is his precious luned, the fruit of love and passion that he shares with his beloved Zireael, his firstborn daughter - Evalina Espane aep Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon.

He opens his aquamarine eyes slowly only to meet pair of huge almond-shaped emerald eyes of his daughter looking at him playfully as she giggles, poking her little finger into Avallac’h’s mouth again.

‘Ceadmil elaine luned’, the elf says quietly, mindful of not waking up Ciri, who was sleeping blissfully with her head pillowed on Avallac’h’s shoulder, with their daughter sandwiched between them. Avallac’h could always tell Ciri's varying degrees of exhaustion, and he knew she needs a proper rest after her last witcher contract on Nekkers.

His daughter, however, doesn't share her father's thoughts and relentlessly continues kicking her legs, and Avallac’h sighs in defeat. ‘Like mother, like daughter’, he murmurs to himself, unsuccessfully trying to calm his daughter's night zeal. But the little one, just like her mother, doesn’t take no for an answer, and instead of calming down, she props herself up on her knees in a playful manner and presses her little finger to Ciri’s lips.

‘Mamma!’

‘Shh, caelm’, Avallac’h whispers, bringing her closer to his chest, and kissing the top of her head, surrounded by ashblond locks that look like a halo. Although Avallac’h knows that despite his daughter's angelic looks she can be a little devil just like her mom. Hen ichear in her veins is fiery, but it also warms Avallac’h’s heart. ‘Mamma’s sleeping’, he explains gently, but Evalina just like Ciri never gives up, and protests loudly and the elf feels the curl of Ciri’s lips against his shoulder.

‘She gets that from you', Avallac’h thinks and Ciri’s smile widens. Evalina snatches the moment and presses her head between Ciri’s breasts and Avallac’h can hear in his head Ciri’s reply, ‘She gets that from you!’

Avallac’h chuckles, a low rumble that makes Ciri’s heart beat faster and prompts Evalina to join her father with joyous giggles.

‘I see that both of you decided to interrupt my beauty sleep’, Ciri tries to sound accusatory, but she can feel nothing else except happiness and fulfilment.

‘Mamma, Dada!’, Evalina babbles delightfully, and Avallac’h chuckles again before he lovingly kisses his Swallow and Ciri realizes that she might be the luckiest person in the whole world to fall asleep with her own little family by her side.

**

[elenthyaolyenths]

My dears, you know what to do. (No pressure)

@demonsandpieohmy @captainblou @floscrap-blog @cassiecasyl and all I may have forgotten 🤭🐈🐈🐈

Today's Card Is: Cat Meeting

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Lohrendrell

Geralt should have pulled his head out of his arse and seen his wrongdoings right away, and apologized to Jaskier immediately after chasing him away on top of that mountain. Geralt could even have taken his time to get over himself and apologize some time later, it would be fine, Jaskier would take him back. Instead, here’s what happened:

 The girl pulled her cloak tighter around herself, trying to hide her hair better.

 “In…” The girl started, sounding unsure and desperate. She was whispering now. “In the pages of one of your journals, there is a ballad for a girl you once loved the most. You never showed it to anyone and you don’t talk about it, except on one occasion when you were drunk and grieving. You babbled about her and her untimely demise. Her name was Essi Daven. She was like a little sister for you, you miss her more than you miss your own real sisters, and part of you feels guilty about that, but you would trade all of them for one more day with Essi.”

Jaskier’s eyes went impossibly wide.

Words: 4870, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert (The Witcher), The Wild Hunt (The Witcher)

Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Action, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes

[permanently-exhausted-bitch]

Witchers Bare More Than Teeth

Ch1 Ch2

CHAPTER 2

A Couple months go by and Geralt returns to his normal weight and strength. Baby fat was worked off in high intensity spars with Eskel and Vesemir. Eric grew too quickly in Jaskier's opinion but Vesemir assured the bard that it was normal. Witchers were not humans and took less time to mature. 

"Witcher pups take around 10 years to fully mature into full grown Witchers." He had said. With this news in mind, Jaskier made it his mission to make the most of Eric's childhood. 

That included taking him to Lettenhove to meet his grandparents.

 

It was mid afternoon and Jaskier was searching for his mate and son around the keep. When he entered the library, Jaskier could barely contain his coo when he saw the adorable picture in front of him. Inside the library, laying on a plush sofa was Geralt and Eric. Geralt was shirtless and asleep with Eric napping on his chest. Jaskier walks over and gently brushes Geralt's hair out of his eyes and whispers softly. 

"Geralt, darling. Wake up. We need to talk about something."

Geralt hummed softly and looks up at him with hooded eyes.

"Hey. What's up." Geralt rumbles tiredly, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"I wanted to talk to you about going to Lettenhove. Vesemir's making lunch so I thought we could talk before going down." Jaskier says with a smile. Geralt gives a soft purr at the scent of happy and love surrounding Jaskier and nods.

"You want your parents to meet him?"

"Yes. He is after all my only heir. I am a Viscount remember." Jaskier says earning a chuckle and a hum.

"Can you take him? I want to show you something." Geralt asks curiously, nodding down at Eric. Jaskier nods and gently picks Eric up and cradles the sleeping child in his arms while Geralt sits up and stretches.

"Come on." Geralt says qs he stands up and leads them to their room. He grabs a shirt, puts on his armor, his swords, and grabs his potion bag, Jaskier's lute and travel bag and a go bag he had made for Eric before motioning Jaskier down to the kitchen. 

Inside Geralt goes over and whispers so ething in Vesemir's ear who nods softly and presses a kiss to Geralt's temple.

"So. There's something that I need to show you all." Geralt says.

"What is it Wolf?" Eskel asks softly. 

"So you all remember Yennefer? Well, I didn't want to tell anyone until I knew for sure but everytime she came here or she and I went off somewhere. We weren't fucking. We didn't a romantic or sexual relationship of any kind." Geralt says.

"Then what did you spend all that time doing?" Jaskier asks.

"She was teaching me how to use my connection to choas. Papa knows because I had to find out a little about my sire to understand what was happening." Geralt said before taking a deep breath and focusing on a mug that was on the table in front of him. The mug suddenly disappears only to suddenly reappear in Geralt's hand.

"Woah!!" Lambert gasps before tossing a knife at Geralt's shoulder. Geralt just threw his hands up and the knife stopped and floated in mid air. Then with a flick of his hand, it became a crow. The crow flew over to sit on Geralt's outstretched arm.

"Jaskier, write a message to your parents. Tell them we'll stop by either today or tomorrow." Geralt said, before taking Eric who had started whimpering.

"You want to go meet Grandpa and Grandma, Pup?" Geralt asks curiously before blowing a razzbarry into Eric's stomach, making Eric laugh brightly.

"Mamamama!" Eric babbles and pats Geralt's face with a laugh. Geralt tears up and smiles widely.

"Yeah baby. I'm Mama." Geralt says softly before pulling Eric to him to kiss his forehead.

"Good job Pup!" Eskel cheers and plucks Eric from his arms and spins in a circle. Eric laughs and claps happily.

 

Just then Jaskier came running back in with a note that he tied to the crows leg.

"Go to Lettenhove noble manor." Geralt says and presses a finger to the grow's head. The crow's eyes glowed and it flew out the window.

"Now, Jaskier, Eric and I are gonna go portal to Cintra, pick up our child surprise and head to Lettenhove. I felt a ripple from the bond. Something is wrong with the princess. We'll portal back here in a few days." Geralt said, taking Eric and sitting him on his hip.

 

He mutters a small spell and a portal opens infront of them. Jaskier grabs his hand and they step through together and see that they're inside the catacombs underneath the castle. the Geralt fishes a crystal pendant out of pocket and holds it out to Jaskier.

"If something goes wrong. Take Eric and go get a inn room at the inn we stayed at before. If I don't return in 2 days, smash this. It'll take you and anything or anyone you're touching straight back to Kaer Morhen." Geralt says and Jaskier takes it and puts it in his pocket before reaching up to kiss Geralt.

"I love you."

"I love you too." 

 

Geralt hands Eric to Jaskier and they silently creep down the hallway when suddenly Geralt freezes and draws his sword. He swings around a corner but stops dead when the sword almost hits Mousesack's throat.

"Mousesack. Fuck. You know you can't sneak up on me like that." Geralt breathes before handing his sword to Jaskier and looking at Eric and frowning slightly.  Mousesack watches as Geralt licks his thumb and wipe a smudge of dirt off the white haired child's cheek then plucks the child from Jaskier's arms. 

"Mama?" Eric whimpers and Geralt presses a kiss to the curly white hair making Mousesack gasp.

"I thought witchers were sterile." 

"We are. To human women. Human men can sire in us though. Witchers are different anatomically. We can all bare children and we can sire children in other witchers." Geralt said with a soft smile at Jaskier. 

"Mousesack, meet Jaskier and I's son, Eric. He's 3 months old." Geralt says and nuzzles Eric's neck making him giggle.

 

However, before Mousesack could answer. Sounds of football steps reached Geralt's ears. Geralt's head snapped up and his eyes widened slightly see in the dark. Mousesack watches as Geralt's lips curled up to expose fangs and growled lowly and pushed a dagger to Mousesack's neck.

"YOU WERE FOLLOWED!" Geralt roared before handing Eric to Jaskier and grabbing his sword. Jaskier gave his own growl and shifted so Eric was between he and Geralt. 

The assassins all stride towards Geralt but stop in their track, unsure of what to do when they see the seething witcher covering a small whimpering white haired child.

"It's okay, baby. It's gonna be okay." They hear the witcher mumbles and reach behind him and stroke the child's hair. 

Using the distraction, Mousesack portals them all away. They end up in a dimly lit hallway and Geralt immediately picks Eric up into his hands and holds him tightly. Mousesack watches as Geralt shakily runs his hands through Eric's hair and down his back and pulls frantic lungfuls of Eric's scent while Eric cries into his shoulder.

"Shhh. It's okay, baby. It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you." Geralt mutters, as he tries to comfort not only Eric but also himself. Geralt make a soft whimper sound and presses his lips to Eric's head for a long moment. Jaskier presses to Geralt's side and nuzzles against the side of Geralt's head.

"Calm down, love. No one's gonna hurt him." Jaskier whispers.

"Come, Queen Calanthe is talking with Cirilla right now. We must go now." Mousesack says before teleporting them all into the room where Calanthe Eist and Cirilla where.

"Butcher! Leave! You were forbidden from returning." Calanthe yells and pulls Cirilla behind her.

"I here to claim my child surprise, your Highness. Do not make me use force because I am permitted by law to use force if you deny me. And even a queen is not allowed to break the law." Geralt says tonelessly.

"Why do you need Cirilla?! You have another stolen child right there!" Calanthe yells.

"Eric is not stolen. He is my son by blood. Last we saw each other you said you would rather die than bow to a law made by men. Men, who haven't born a child. Well, news flash Calanthe. Witchers aren't humans. We all have a womb. We all have a prick. Witchers can sire amongst witchers but human men can sire in us as well. Jaskier is Eric's father, I'm his mother. I carried him from the 6 month generation period that all witchers have. I birthed him and fed him. And yes, if I had to let Eric go with someone I knew could protect him, it would break my heart but I'd let him go. Nilfgaard is in your land with siege weapons. Do not give your a war on two fronts." Geralt says firmly. 

At this time, Cirilla steps out from behind Calanthe and cocks her in curiosity.

"You. You're him, my destiny. I dream about you all the time. I felt your pain. During his birth, and the happiest afterwards." Cirilla says quietly before running into his arms. 

Calanthe and eist watch as Geralt gives a happy purr and presses his nose and mouth to her hair as he wraps his free arm around her shoulders.

"Hello Pup. I'm Geralt of Rivia or as your new brother calls me, Mama." Geralt mutters against her hair.

"Hi Mama. I'm Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, But I prefer Ciri." Ciri says with a smile qs she nuzzles his chest.

"And I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove AKA Jaskier, You're new papa if you'd like." Jaskier says as he hugs Ciri to him.

Ciri relishes in the loving hold and feels tears sting her eyes.

"I had forgotten what a Father's hug felt like." Ciri croaks against him and pushes clothes.

"Oh darling." Jaskier coos and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Cub?" 

Cirilla looks over to see Eist stepping forward, holding out his hand. Geralt growled lowly and bared his teeth and pulled Ciri behind him.

"My. Pup." He seethed but Cirilla takes his hand pulls him forward towards Eist. She lets go of his hand to hug Eist and Calanthe tightly.

"If war really is coming, let mama take me with him. He'll keep me safe. I'll visit when the war is over. I love you guys." Ciri says before turning and running into Geralt's arms.

Then in a burst of light, they all teleported away.

[theleadbull]

Geralt touches this thing he is not allowed, gauges the fit of Jaskier's smile alongside his hand, the curve of his trim waist, the weight of his softening cock. He measures it up in his mind, memorizing its lines and proportions, so he knows where it fits in his fortifications.

It is no easier, this time. Geralt's clawed fingers trace Axii. He watches again as Jaskier's expressive face goes blank.

Geralt has had four great loves in his life. He has lost all but one.     

** Rating: Explicit

Words: 15,959

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion/Countess de Stael, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Vesemir (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher), Varin (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Original Female Character(s), Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Lambert (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Heavy Angst, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Voyeurism, Canon Compliant, Period-Typical Homophobia, Corrective Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mind Manipulation, Trauma, Internalized Homophobia, Huddling For Warmth, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Drunken Confessions, Sex Magic, Eventual Happy Ending, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Like Just Absolutely Feral, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Fights, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Drunk Sex

Sample under the cut!

There is a bard at Lower Posada, and this bard is currently every one of Geralt's problems.

He is a fresh-faced eighteen. He carries himself with an intellectual swagger, the unearned confidence of those who spend a career learning in lecture halls, meriting themselves nothing beyond a scroll lined in Minuscule stating that they have learned something.

Geralt is not convinced that the bard has, in fact, learned anything, let alone something.

"Now, now, my good Sir Of Rivia, you've got your coin, so put away that sour puss and let's, er, mosey on out of this fine establishment, shall we? Don't like the way the barman's looking at me. Usually precedes the launching of heavier items, and blessed though I am with the gift of beauty, I doubt my burgeoning career can sustain—"

Geralt frog-marches the bard—Jaskier, of course he calls himself Jaskier—out the door. Jaskier babbles the whole way. Geralt stitches together the tattered shreds of his patience, torn apart by hisses of The Butcher of Blaviken and Nettly's unwitting skill at poking fingers into injuries half-healed.

Jaskier has the right of one thing, though—Geralt has his coin, and a contract, and now, apparently, an entourage. Irritated, he continues to be, but cannot muster the effort to be properly spiteful. He leads Roach through the rolling hills of Dol Blathanna at a pace sedate enough to accommodate Jaskier's meandering gait.

"...Oh, I could be your barker! Spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia," Jaskier proclaims, "the—the Butcher of Blaviken!"

Nerves and fresh grief rip through Geralt's composure, slicing through the newness of Jaskier, of his adrenaline-excitement-and-clean-sweat, his sweeping gestures and colorful clothes.

Jaskier doubles over with the softened force of Geralt's blow, so he's at least smart enough to move most of his vital organs out of the way. Geralt wonders if he learned that at Oxenfurt.

He looks up at Geralt over Geralt's own fist with stars in his eyes. Blue like sapphires. (Blue like a mountain spring.) Geralt clings to the cold, pulls back, stays rigid and unbending as he was taught.

Jaskier straightens up and launches immediately into soliloquy. "So is this about the Butcher thing, the onion thing, or the two cocks thing, for my future reference, because, as your self-appointed crier of deeds, I do think, for the record, that one cock for each hand would be a splendid quality in a specimen such as yourself—"

The leather of Roach's lead creaks, leaves welts in Geralt's hands. "Fuck off, bard." Deep breath rushes in, suffusing him with calm. "I've got only the one."

"Yes, yes, and is it—"

"Jaskier. Leave it."

"Leaving it, it's left, but I reserve the right to ruminate upon it."

Abject panic sluices through him, this time, or what would be abject panic if Geralt still felt fear. "No," he barks. "Jaskier. I told you to leave it."

Jaskier opens his mouth to respond, but Geralt, mercifully, catches the scent of Nettly's "devil"—a Sylvan, for all intents and purposes harmless—and nudges Roach into a trot, leaving Jaskier at a jog to catch up.

Still, through wheezes of breath, he speaks. "Reading between the lines and gut-punches, chum..."

Everything goes rapidly downhill after that, as things tend to do in Dol Blathanna.

[elenthyaolyenths]

Was just minding my own business, enjoying a good little post about our gorgeous and tender demon, until-

"The last time he smiles"

........you killed me here, OP. Right to the heart.

Thanks.

Crowley looking at Aziraphale, a compilation.

Since I am always seeing posts about how lovingly (and lustfully) Aziraphale looks at Crowley, I decided to offer you the other perspective. Here are my favorite “Crowley staring at the love of his life” moments.

1- In the Beginning. Love at second sight, one might say.

2- Wishing he was the fork.

3- It’s the softness of this one for me.

4- This one makes me blush every time, he was ready to jump on him.

5- The “I knew you would do the right thing, you really are special” look. Bildaddy serving love and trust!

6- The “If we are both Godfathers together, does that mean we’re married?” look.

7- May I tempt you to lunch? (He is so flirty here I could die)!!!

8- Bro wasn’t paying attention to the play.

9- To the world, but also, to us.

10- The last time he smiles.

[witcherfic]

Lohrendrell August 19, 2020 at 02:27PM

by Lohrendrell

Geralt should have pulled his head out of his arse and seen his wrongdoings right away, and apologized to Jaskier immediately after chasing him away on top of that mountain. Geralt could even have taken his time to get over himself and apologize some time later, it would be fine, Jaskier would take him back. Instead, here’s what happened:

 The girl pulled her cloak tighter around herself, trying to hide her hair better.

 “In…” The girl started, sounding unsure and desperate. She was whispering now. “In the pages of one of your journals, there is a ballad for a girl you once loved the most. You never showed it to anyone and you don’t talk about it, except on one occasion when you were drunk and grieving. You babbled about her and her untimely demise. Her name was Essi Daven. She was like a little sister for you, you miss her more than you miss your own real sisters, and part of you feels guilty about that, but you would trade all of them for one more day with Essi.”

Jaskier’s eyes went impossibly wide.

Words: 4870, Chapters: 1/4, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Lambert (The Witcher), The Wild Hunt (The Witcher)

Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Action, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes

[zahra-hydris]

so I haven’t played much of vethisa since the dark brotherhood/thieves guild event ended but I occasionally head back to do a few quests, run some dailies, and steal some things/assassinate some peeps for gold

but in that time, I’ve fleshed her out a little bit more and I see a few things as particularly central to her

1) she’s hedonistic to the max. she always has been, and that was her issue when she was part of the morag tong. she constantly risked blowing her cover, revealing her fellows, and simply embarrassing the guild through excessive drinking, drug use, stealing from marks, and other various impulsive behaviour. indeed, the foray into unapproved executions was partly because of this: she loved the thrill of the hunt.

2) she’s looking for a higher purpose. this was why she was with the morag tong in the first place, and why she ended up with the brotherhood after. but it’s also why she’s so bored with the thieves guild. while she enjoying stealing shit as much as the next degenerate, she finds their solely pragmatic focus and personal squabbles petty and meaningless.

3) she has zero interest in ever going back to morrowind. she hates the tribunal, seeing them as false gods; she hates the great houses and their bullshit games; and she’s also being actively hunted by the morag tong so that’s another big minus to ever going back. she likes cyrodiil and is fond of the argonians, so spends a fair bit of time in the black marsh.

4) she’s far more charming than she has any right to be? when she’s not sermonizing about sithis or one of the daedric princes she’s fond of (mephala, azura, boethiah, sanguine), she’s fun, witty, and unpredictable. she’s the type where you never quite know where you stand with her, but you hope she likes you.

I really should make some kind of oc page for her, gen, and elen. I also reaaaaaally need to babble about eleniyra’s feelings on the altmer and the dominion.

[elenthyaolyenths]

🥲😊🥹❤️‍🩹💕💓❤️‍🔥🥰😭

Oh, my. What a perfect time, almost one year after my new fresh start here on Tumblr as a self-taught artist.

Thank you all for everything! Wouldn't even expect that when I came back to drawing and start digital art in 2023!! Our fandom is so amazing and supportive.

My dear GO family, a little surprise of mine is coming soon!!! Until then, feel free to send me art prompts or asks, I would love to know your thoughts and ideas for my next upcoming year of fun on this wonderful fandom!!!

♥Tag List (tell me if you want to be in or out)♥

@goodomensafterdark ;

@floscrap-blog ; @demonsandpieohmy ; @amagnificentobsession ; @captainblou

@ineffable-hyperfixation ;

@fearandhatred ; @eybefioro ; @crowleys-bentley-and-plants ; @ashfae ; @malohkeh-main ;

@quoththemaiden ; @paperclipninja ; @silverdphantom ; @neverlet

@mad-aims ; @daisydimple20092 ; @seraphhiim ; @rebeccakatmauri