#ciri white dress

[beanbowlbaggins]

I googled how much fabric I'd need to make a chemise and kirtle, but now that I'm drafting the dress I see that it calls for a lining, or at least facings to make the linen sturdy enough for eyelets. I already have a pink linen, and a beige embroidered linen. I just dont want to line my sheer dress with the extra pink fabric.

So my next thought was that I don't have enough of the pink, so I decided to just order more now that I know I love it. (so I ordered enough to make a second dress from it.) Then I found another cream colored linen to use for facing because I dont want to use the embroidery for the lining at all; thats just a waste given how pretty it is (and I plan on using the extra yard if beige linen for a matching veil and wimple). So that's how I arrived at a cream linen.

[hanzajesthanza]

me whenever the short story "something ends, something begins" is mentioned, or not even mentioned, but i have an opportunity to mention it myself

[mentalpolaroids]

Wolf's Home

(Part I)

Geralt of Rivia x female!Reader

Summary: Geralt takes Ciri to Kaer Morhen and reunites not only with his family of witchers, but also with the person that makes him feel at home the most

a/n: this is sort of rewrite of S02E02. Sorry for the use of (y/n) but couldn't really think of a name for the reader. Also, this is my first try at writing for The Witcher so be nice to me please!!

.................................................................................

She woke up that morning expecting to face another routine-repeating day, possibly with an occasional healing of one of the witchers coming back to Kaer Morhen from a hunt, or coming up with a new excuse as to why she didn’t want to eat whatever crap Lambert cooked for them. His turn on food duty was always a dreadful one.

Her days were never too adventurous, not since Vasemir had insisted on a more permanent stay at the keep two years ago, when she was dragged through the Blue Mountains by a silver haired witcher, both injured, after fighting and killing a monster together. An encounter she still couldn’t really understand to this day, how they happened to be in the same place, at the same time, looking for the same creature, but she knew better than to question Destiny. 

Even with her own wounds to take care of, she still healed Geralt of Rivia first, who fell under her natural charm like a trap. He wondered if it was a spell, the way he so easily was put at ease in her presence. She was a mage after all. But as the days passed, he concluded that there was no spell besides the one used to close the gash on his abdomen. That woman was simply a caretaker by heart, one that somehow remained open and pure even knowing of the existence of nasty beings out there in the Continent. Everyone else in the Fortress seemed to be as mesmerized, and so, she was welcomed with open arms to stay, and heal, and fight with the witchers. 

The ropes were starting to burn the palm of her hands from all the knots she had conquered in the last hour, but she definitely didn’t mind because it was at least keeping her hands warm as she stood outside, light snow falling over the already white ground. 

One of the few advantages of the icy weather was that they could hear when someone was approaching, the crunch of the footsteps over the snow being hard to disguise. She heard those in the distance, but it was of a horse. (y/n) dropped the rope and grabbed her sword, preparing herself for the sight of the intruder before making her own known. But, the sight wasn’t at all what she expected. She didn’t know what to expect at all, but it sure wasn’t a familiar brown horse carrying Geralt of Rivia accompanied by a blonde girl, who (y/n) quickly convinced herself must’ve been a princess, if not for her looks, for her posture. She looked like she didn’t belong there, nor next to someone with the nickname The Butcher of Blaviken. 

The girl got down from Roach and looked around curiously. Her dress blended with the snow, from afar, (y/n) wondered if she was even real. Her gaze didn’t last long on the girl when Geralt got down from his horse too, the mere sight of his face barely visible under his dark cloak sent a shiver of excitement to her stomach. He had always had that effect on her, but it seemed the longer she went without seeing him, the stronger the sensation got after meeting again. 

The witcher and the princess shared words (y/n) couldn’t really hear from where she was still in the hiding, and as they started to walk towards the main entrance of the Fortress, the mage put down her sword and walked towards them. 

“You sure we’re safe here?” the princess asked Geralt, who walked in front of her. (y/n) was not close enough to hear the question, not yet to be noticed. 

“Safer than out there.” 

Her voice seemed to echo in the silence of their footsteps coming to a stop, both turning their heads to their right, finally acknowledging her. Geralt’s lips curved into a brief smile, his yellow eyes softening when they locked with hers. (y/n) smiled back, the shiver in her stomach was now climbing to her chest and for a moment she forgot he could probably feel her heart beating faster. Good thing she didn’t mind him knowing how she felt around him. 

Three steps away from coming face to face with the witcher, she slowed her pace, planning to walk past them. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my dearest friend in all the Continent.”

“It’s great to see you.” 

“Oh I’m afraid I was speaking to my best girl here.” (y/n) approached Roach, caressing the horse over her nose and planting a light kiss on her short fur, “But it’s great to see you too, Wolf.” she walked towards him again, for a second forgetting it wasn’t just the two of them there. The way Geralt followed every step of hers, his gaze warm even in the middle of a Winter day. (y/n) opened her arms to him, “Welcome home.”

The man embraced her tightly against him and it felt like getting drowned in memories of his days with her. He had forgotten how much he cherished her affection, and holding her reminded him how nice it was to let his guard down for a brief moment. It all felt like he had never left. 

“I missed you.” he murmured, unrecognizably self-conscious. He surely didn’t enjoy showing this vulnerable side of him, especially in front of someone else.

“I’m sure you did.” (y/n) let go of him, casting him a warm, welcoming smile, before looking to the girl standing behind him, now more curious about the pair’s dynamic than the Fortress, “And who’s this poor thing having to deal with your company?” 

“This is Ciri.” 

“Ciri.” (y/n) tried the name on her lips. She walked towards her with the same welcoming smile, but a different fondness in her eyes, “It’s nice to meet you, Ciri.” she said as she extended her hand to the girl, “I’m (y/n).”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” she spoke softly, clearly wary of meeting a new face, but the shadow of a smiling curve on her lips showed potential trust as she accepted the handshake. After all, the woman was obviously someone dear to Geralt, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so?” (y/n) smirked, hoping the cold outside cooled the warmth spreading across her face. She turned to Geralt, who watched the two girls interact, but the words were directed to Ciri, “I’m sure I have a lot to hear about you, too.” It was a warning to the witcher: an endless night of chatting was to come, questions needed to be answered, stories to be told and his whereabouts to be known. 

As if reading Ciri’s mind, (y/n) squeezed her shoulder and tilted her head towards the entrance, “Don’t worry, you are safe here.” 

“Keep up.” Geralt told the girl, and both followed (y/n). 

They both pushed the heavy wooden doors and walked into the main room of the Fortress that was occupied with chatty men and the smell of burning wood and ale. (y/n)’s words echoing through the wide space caught their attention. 

“Look what the snow dragged in, boys.”

All eyes turned to the mage and the murmur came to a stop when everybody noticed the figure standing behind her. Her attention turned to Geralt as well, in time to see him remove the hood of his cloak and finally getting a decent view of the face she missed so much. She also checked on Ciri, who looked uneasier than before, standing in the middle of a room full of men. (y/n) winked at her, hoping to reassure her everything was alright. Geralt noticed, and he too turned to the girl and nodded at her before moving to stand beside (y/n) as Lambert stood from his seat and walked towards them. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

“We thought you got lost.” Coën followed Lambert, “Or killed.” 

(y/n) rolled her eyes. Geralt smiled tenderly.

“Not yet. Sorry.”  

The mage elbowed his side. She had always hated when he implied the possibility of his death at any moment, considering what he was and he did, in reality it wasn’t a massive impossibility. Still, even a simple joke triggered a non-existent grief that resided in her chest everytime she had to see the witcher leave and go long periods of time without hearing a single word from or about him. In his presence, (y/n) pretended he would stay forever, and if he didn’t stay, he would come back. Everytime. 

Geralt caressed her back and brought her in for the embrace Lambert had already initiated. He then went on greeting and hugging the other witchers and, more than ever, Kaer Morhen felt like a real home. The family was back together. 

“I guess I’m back to being second favorite now that you’re back.” Lambert complained to Geralt, referring to (y/n).

“Who said you were even a favorite in the first place?” 

Geralt laughed. 

“I hope you’ve all been treating her right.”

“We do, but she’s a mean one. Lucky for her, we don’t dislike her cooking.” 

The banter was interrupted by Vasemir, who entered the room already smiling at the sight of the silver haired witcher. 

“Wolf. You’re home.” the elder joined the commotion, “Finally.”

Ciri, still feeling out of place, placed herself visibly between Geralt and (y/n).

“Yeah. I had to make a few stops.” the witcher replied, referring to the princess next to him. 

“He’s home!” 

Once again, the commotion grew around Geralt as they kept celebrating his return. Ciri smiled shyly watching the content interactions.

“Come on,” (y/n) extended her hand for the princess to take, “I’m going to introduce you to everybody.”

When everybody settled enough for the mage to be able to order everyone to be nice to Ciri, the men were somewhat curious about the unexpected guest. The girl seemed less vigilant as she was offered a seat and cup and conversation started flowing as if both her and Geralt had always been there. 

(y/n) stood next to him, a sigh leaving her nostrils as she crossed her arms and discreetly nudged the man’s broad figure. 

“Yeah, I know. I have a lot to tell.”

“Yeah. You do.” 

Geralt looked down at her to meet her eyes and, with a soft motion of his hand, uncrossed her arms. He smiled, in a way she knew he was promising to stay for a while. She couldn’t tell what he thought her eyes were saying, but whatever it was, he felt the need to hold her hand, hidden behind his cloak, caressing the cold skin of her knuckles with his thumb. 

“I’m home.” his hoarse voice, along with the softness of his touch and stare, nearly warmed her up on the spot. 

In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling her he would eventually leave again, but for once, she shut it down. 

.................................................................................

Part II soon!

[renren-006]

Hi there! I’m an angst addict so I was thinking like a story about the sorcerer ball that Geralt and Yennefer attend in season 3 but with the Reader who is like dating Geralt has to stay behind with Jaskier and Ciri has some jealousy because of Geralt and Yen’s history and starts thinking that our white wolf would prefer her instead….if that makes sense 😭

Preference? | Geralt x Fem Reader

word count: 909

a/n: omg yesss!! i had fun writing this so enjoyyyyy!!

The ball was that evening, and after the long boat ride and fight you, Geralt, and Ciri had to go through, you were looking forward to it. What you didn't expect was Geralt sidelining you with Jaskir and Ciri. You stood there dumbfounded and Yennifer and Geralt explained that it would make more sense to have more people watch Ciri. You watched him leave that night in an elegant outfit and a single kiss before he went towards the castle.

“He loves you, you know that right Y/N” Jaskir said to you. 

“How Jask. Look at Yennefer. I'll never look like her, and I'll never be as powerful…” you told him. You and Jaskir were best friends before Geralt even entered the picture. He glanced over at you, seeing you go through heartbreak after heartbreak. This time, both of you wanted this to be the last. He hugged you as Geralt disappeared beyond sight. 

Ciri, however, didn't notice anything. Absorbed in her own little world for a bit, or at least for most of the night, she didn't let on that she had been listening to you. She saw the way Yennifer was eying Geralt. It wasn't until a few card games that she talked about it. 

“I prefer you over Yennefer.” She told you. Jaskir looked at you, seeing the smile and shock on your face. “I don't like that he didn't ask you to go.”

“I…I don't either, Ciri” you told the young girl. 

“He loves you. I think he's just being stupid,” Ciri told you, comforting you. The young girl had taken a strong liking to you in the years you had been with and known her. She thought of you like a mother, a guardian, someone she knew would lay down her life to protect her.  You managed to find her before Geralt and keep her safe while helping her find your lover and her guardian. Once you did, it felt like a family reunion. You remember meeting Yen with them and discovering her betrayal. Seeing her now and knowing she was trying to be genuine, you had no reason to worry, yet you did.  The rest of the night was a mix of worry and jealousy. 

You worried he would realize how much better the woman before him that night was than you. How powerful she was and how it barely compared to you. How could she teach Ciri far better than you could about magic, even though Ciri had mastered most, if not all, of what you had taught her so far. You just wanted Geralt to love you for you, and you felt as thought you might always be compared to her. 

When morning came, and Geralt walked through the door with Yennifer, you noticed he wore a different outfit. You glanced at Yennifer, who was doing her best not to look over at you. Her face was flush, and her eyes were cast down away from you. Your worries were confirmed. 

“I knew it,” you said. Geralt's eyes flashed with worry, worry that you had figured it out. You stormed out the back door, and Geralt followed after. 

“Y/N! Y/N/N!” he yelled. Your flowy flower dress flowed in the wind as you continued storming off towards the woods, wishing to be with the trees. Soon after, you fell to the ground in the middle of a clearing, hearing and feeling the forest energy.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked, kneeling next to you.

“You slept with Yennifer didn't you?” you asked, tears in your eyes. “You know I'm nothing compared to her. How could I ever expect to be better than her? You'll always want her…”

“Y/N that's not true” Geralt said, his husky voice causing you to shiver away. 

“Yes it is” you said, power serging from you, rumbling the woods. “I am nothing compared to Geralt, I have less power, less beauty...”

“Y/N! I told her I wanted to marry you "Geralt said, holding your face in his hands. 

“What?” you said. Suddenly everything in you went quiet, including the world around you.

“I told her I wanted to spend my life with you from now on. That she meant nothing to me anymore.” Geralt's words cut through you. Yennifer's downward look wasn't because she was sorry she slept with him, but because she was sorry she tried to and got rejected. You realize that Geralt's clothes were probably because he was tired from the long night of fighting that Yen lent him clothes, not because he wanted to stay.

“You want to marry me?” you asked him, tears in your eyes

“Yes,” he said firmly. 

“I'm sorry…I was…” you stumbled over words. 

“It's okay. Darling i understand” He said kissing your tears away, “I understand why you got there. Why you think I loved her? I don't”

“I know that now” you said slightly laughing, “I love you”

“I know, darling,” he said. He helped you stand and walk back towards that little cottage with your family inside. Yennifer came over and apologized profusely. She wanted nothing more than to be friends and to set up the wedding. She was happy he found someone like you and that she wouldn't ever get in the way. You were happy your worries were not true and that Geralt was the man for you forever.

[lassieposting]

Okay so

In the last ep of S2, we see Jaskier asleep in a room at Kaer Morhen. There are three interesting details about this scene.

The room actually looks somewhat lived-in compared to the empty, spiderweb-ridden rooms Ciri explores in an earlier episode. Jaskier hasn't been at Kaer Morhen long enough to have a lived-in guest room.

When Yennefer gets him out of bed, we see him grab his coat, which is lying next to a mostly-empty bottle of booze. He also asks Yen if she's making a hangover cure, because he feels like shit. He wasn't drunk when Geralt asked him to take Ciri home, so we know that his first night at Kaer Morhen, he got white girl wasted.

He's mostly dressed in bed. Like, he's still got his boots on, even. The only thing he seems to have taken off is his coat. But he's not shivering or curled up like he's very cold. He seems quite comfy.

This makes me think five things.

Jask met Geralt's family for the first time and promptly got blitzed with them. That's why he's the only one in the keep with a hangover - they can't get drunk on his booze.

What do Jaskier and the Witchers have in common to talk about? Well, Geralt, of course. Not only do Vesemir and the boys get a detailed rundown of every amusing anecdote Jask has from his 20+ years travelling with Geralt (along with a heaped helping of Poetic Drunken Yearning - gods, where did Geralt get this walking bag of feelings?), but Jask also gets treated to Every Embarrassing Thing Baby!Geralt Ever Did.

The room looks lived-in because it's Geralt's. Everyone was too busy drinking and spilling tea to think about making up a guest room for the bard. So when Jaskier finally passes the fuck out, and Vesemir tells Lambert to find him a bed to sleep it off in, Lambert goes "Eh, close enough" and sticks him in Geralt's. Geralt's twink. Geralt's problem.

This is also why Jaskier is still almost totally dressed, boots and all. Lambert is so not going there: he's a Witcher, not a nanny or a nurse. He drops Jask on the bed, flings a blanket over him and calls it a day.

At some point post-S2, Geralt is going to wake up in a cold sweat at like 3am and realise that leaving his bard unattended with his family was a Terrible Idea and they definitely swapped stories and he's not going to hear the end of it from anyone for a really long time

[doberbutts]

"They didn't dress like that in the 13th century"

A: they didn't have mages, witchers, elves, dragons, or unicorns either probably

B: not sure how many times Andrzej "the Continent isn't medival Europe and is its own thing" Sapkowski has to say that he never intended for his universe to be a direct 1:1 to any country or alliance within the real world outside of being heavily inspired by Polish folklore and paganism

C: for people claiming to be book fans, you should KNOW THIS because eventually Ciri *does* jump to medival Europe in our world and accidentally spreads the black plague to the Witcher world by doing so- she also thinks her brief look at our world sucks ass and leaves immediately

"Well Yennefer's outfits look like they came straight out of an H&M catalog" yeah they kinda do. Also she has purple eyes and raven black hair and she always wears all black and white and she has an obsidian star on her necklace and her name is Ebony Dark'ness Raven Way-

[grlsbstshot]

Join us for the next chapter of NEON LIGHTS premiering Wednesday

(Don’t miss updates every Wednesday & Saturday for NEON LIGHTS, an original character fanfic. Chapters & Special Extras found on the masterlist.)

IMANI INVITES YOU TO READ HER DIARY By: Vanessa Lawton JAN. 2026

It’s been a year since Imani St. Cirie, the sultry and enigmatic singer-songwriter, made headlines for her surprise EP release, Diary. In the following months, she became an awards show darling. Winning Billboard, AMAs, and even a BRIT Award. It all culminated in a Grammy win in Best R&B Song for the top ten Billboard hit, Kitchen. But since then? Nothing. We sit down with the superstar to find out exactly what's on the horizen.

Exuding a quiet confidence, Imani sits opposite me in the PAPER magazine headquarters. It's a simple interview, one that shouldn't take more than an hour or so but she makes herself comfortable. Imani, dressed in a HOESMAD cropped tee, baggy cargo jeans, and black and white pair of Bathing Apes, there’s a softness to her demeanor that suggests it's been a long year for the superstar. "It's been a year of unexpected successes. I really didn't expect for Diary to be that successful, but I'm grateful. I think it did what it needed to do."

From the heartbreak that inspired her latest EP to the unexpected that has helped her heal, she’s unflinchingly honest. "Love is tough. It's complicated. I don't think it's meant to be easy, but whatever is real, you'll fight for it. No matter what."

This is a different Imani—one who’s no longer defined by her past but empowered by it. And as she prepares to step back into the spotlight, it’s clear that she’s not just reclaiming her voice—she’s rewriting her story.

VL: Diary was a huge success last year. How did it feel to see it resonate so deeply with your fans? Imani: “It’s so crazy because I just released that EP to let all these emotions I felt out. I never thought that so many people would like it. Like damn, y’all really fuck with me.”

VL: Your lyrics often feel deeply personal. Do you find it difficult to share so much of yourself through your music?

Imani: “No. Music is a release for me. I use my songwriting as a way to get everything out. The hardest part for me is releasing it to the world because like you said it is deeply personal.”

VL: What’s been the most rewarding moment in your career over the past year?

Imani: “When I won a Grammy for ‘Kitchen,’ like wow. I’m still in shock about that.”

VL: Fans have speculated about the themes of Diary. Was it inspired by personal experiences?

Imani: “Yes, but all my art is. Where else am I supposed to draw inspiration from?”

VL: You and James Lucas have a shared history in music. Do you think you’ll ever collaborate?

Imani: “I don’t know…that’s a question he should probably answer.” 

VL: What’s next for you musically? Can fans expect a full album soon?

Imani: “I wouldn’t say soon! I’ve been so busy with videos and promo for Diary that I haven’t gotten a chance to go to the studio but I’m always writing and I want to release something next year.” 

VL: You’ve been linked to several high-profile individuals this year. How do you handle the constant media scrutiny of your personal life?

Imani: “I try to ignore it because the media tends to think they know everything about Imani but I promise you they don’t know even know a quarter of me. So I try not to let it bother me.” 

VL: You’ve been very private about your relationships lately. Is that intentional?

Imani: “Yes, because it’s no one’s business but my own. After my relationship with my ex, I think I’m owed some privacy.”

VL: What’s been the biggest lesson you’ve learned about yourself in the past year?

Imani: “That it’s okay to sit in your sorrow sometimes. No matter how much you try, you can’t run from it. You can’t hide from it. So it’s okay to sit and wallow for a little bit.” 

VL: You’ve spoken before about the importance of self-care. What does that look like for you now?

Imani: “Right now? It looks like a day off with sleeping in, a bubble bath with a seaweed face mask, some pasta and a marathon of Sex and the City. I know that ain’t y’all ideal self-care but it’s mine.” 

VL: What role has your family or close friends played in supporting you this year? 

Imani: “My aunt has been the most vital part to Diary’s rollout. I told her what I wanted to do and what publications I wanted to. She handled it all for me.” 

VL: Are there any misconceptions about you that you’d like to clear up?

Imani: “Nah, take what you heard about me and double that shit!” 

VL: What’s one thing fans would be surprised to learn about you?

Imani: “That I’m really a happy person. They always coming up to me, asking me if I’m okay because they heard such-and-such song and are concerned but guys, I promise y’all I’m fine.” 

VL: How do you handle creative blocks or moments of doubt in your career?

Imani: “I try to write through it. Like even if the lyric is trash as fuck, I write it out just so I can get it out of my head.” 

VL: If you could give advice to your younger self, what would it be?

Imani: “Everything will be okay. I know things are looking bleak right now but you will be fine! Crashing out all the time ain’t worth it, girl.” 

The late afternoon sun was starting to set but a few rays spilled through the wide windows of Jameson’s New York brownstone, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floors. He sat at his kitchen table, the picture of comfort. T-shirt, jogging pants, no socks. The room was quiet, except for the occasional hum of the city outside. A glass of water sat untouched on the table beside him. His phone lay in his hand, the screen glowing with the headline of an article he hadn’t been prepared to see.

Imani Invites You to Read Her Diary

He stared at the cover for a long moment, his thumb hovering over the link. She looked gorgeous, the picture of perfection. Her eyes carried a calm he hadn’t seen in them before. Maybe he was imagining it but she looked...like she was thriving without him. He felt his chest tighten. It had been a full, agonizing year since he’d seen her. Since she’d walked out of his life. And now, here she was, staring back at him from his screen like a ghost that refused to stay buried.

He finally tapped the link, the words unfolding before him like a slow unraveling of a wound he thought had begun to heal.

"After my relationship with my ex, I think I'm owed some privacy." she’d said. He read those words over and over, the simplicity of them cutting deeper than he expected but she was right. They were high profile in the best ways but also in some of the worst ways. She deserved to keep her cards close to her chest. It didn't stop the blogs from talking about her...and Amir. And Vivienne. He'd seen photographic proof that she had moved on. It seemed that space had finally evolved to over for her.

His eyes scanned the article, taking in her reflections on the past year. She spoke of growth, of self-care, of understanding herself. There was a brief mention of him but she didn't dwell. Part of him was proud of her.

Jameson leaned back against the chair and waited for deep mournful pain to hit him. It always did when he imagined the rest of his life without her...but remarkably, it didn't come. He felt hurt when she had moved on. He drank and closed himself off, eventually began therapy when his grief had taken a worrying turn, and even moved across the country to get away from his feelings for her. After a year of pouring his emotions into his music and six months into some semblance of a relationship with Camille -- Jameson had finally stopped grieving.

He still loved her, that much was clear. But he had finally accepted that their lives wouldn't merge again. He could read the article about her, feel the pain, and then...simply trust in the knowledge that she was happy.

His doorbell rang and the sound startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. He set the phone down, the screen dimming as he stood. For a brief moment, he considered not answering, but the ringing came again.

He hadn't been expecting anyone. Still, he got up and tried to leave thoughts of Imani in his kitchen -- and was met by the image of a pretty brunette on his front stoop.

Camille Lefevre.

Her long, brown hair was pulled up into a topknot, her usual style when she wasn't strutting down runways or covering magazines. If you passed her on the street, her beauty would be obvious and you'd immediately know she was a supermodel.

They met at an afterparty, amid his emotional spiraling. Imani was on her second new relationship in six months. He watched with envy, a sick gnawing in his gut. He hadn’t been able to escape updates. It ate him up to see her move on when he seemed stuck in a rut. His mother had been so concerned that she damn near moved into his home until he moved to New York. To stop her from coming with him, he promised to start therapy. He started going out more -- though he didn't enjoy it.

Camille had seen through his disgruntled demeanor. She made him laugh at a time when people didn’t even get to see him smile. She was bold, kind, driven. She wanted him and she was going to have him. Casual sex, late-night conversations, and dinner dates followed over the next few months when either of them had the time. They didn’t give it a name but it was something.

Jameson opened the door to find her holding a bag of takeout and wearing that bright, effortless smile he’d grown to appreciate. She was a steady presence in his life, a warm light that had helped guide him through some of his darkest moments. But right now, standing in front of her, he felt the weight of the article still pressing on his chest.

"Hey," she said, stepping inside and leaning up to kiss his cheek. "I figured you probably forgot to eat, so I brought reinforcements."

Jameson forced a smile. "That's cute. She came to feed me."

"Well, someone has to." She tossed over her shoulder before heading into the kitchen. She set the bag on the counter and began unpacking containers, chattering away about the upcoming party for his album, excitement evident in her voice. Jameson tried to focus, nodding and murmuring responses where appropriate, but his mind kept drifting back to Imani’s words.

Camille turned to him, her brows furrowing slightly. "You okay? You seem...distracted."

Jameson hesitated, the truth caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. His first instinct was to lie to her but he heard his therapist clear in his mind. 'Is this lie protecting you, or is it holding you back?' He sighed and told her the truth. "I read an article today. About Imani."

He looked at her then, really looked at her. She was kind, patient, and always there when he needed her. She deserved his honesty, but he wasn’t sure how to give it to her without hurting her.

Camille’s expression softened, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes. "Oh."

She knew about him and Imani. Who didn't. When they first began, he tried to disconnect from Camille -- knowing he was still caught up on Imani but she let him know that she understood. She was taking a risk with him. It gave him the courage to take the same risk.

"It...caught me off guard," he continued, setting his chopsticks down. “I didn’t expect to see her face, to read about her life like that. I...It stung a little."

Camille nodded slowly, her hand resting on his. "It’s okay to feel that way, you know. You love her. That doesn’t just disappear overnight."

Jameson took a good look at her, lifting his hand from the counter and reaching up to brush a few tendrils of hair from her face. "It stung but it didn't...it didn't hurt me like I thought it would. I want her to be happy. Even if that's not with me. And I want to be happy with you."

Camille was quiet for a moment before she tilted her head, leaning against his hand. "You don't have to say that. It took a lot for you to get here. You've made a lot of progress. Feeling things for her doesn't erase that progress."

He wished she was a little less understanding. He wanted her to yell at him for feeling something for anyone other than her. That felt normal. But her simple acceptance of everything he was made him want to be more for her. Nothing he said or did would be good enough because he knew...she would always deserve more. She was getting half of a man. Why couldn't he just give her everything?

"I'm okay." "You are?" "Mhm. If I'm not, I will be. I'm with you. I'm good."

He watched her melt and felt proud that at least he'd gotten that right for her. Camille leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "I'm here for you, okay? Whatever you need."

"I know." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm grateful."

As Camille returned to her food, Jameson’s gaze drifted to his phone on the counter. He turned it face down, trying to push Imani out of his mind once again. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. She was a part of him, no matter how much time passed or how far apart they were. And that realization was both comforting and excruciating.

[yenneferblog]

YENNEFER OF VENGERBERG in THE WITCHER, SEASON 3 Showrunner Lauren Hissrich tells EW she received a lot of feedback from viewers about Yennefer's acts last season. "'How could you do that to these characters?' 'They'll never be able to forgive her.' Well, that just becomes a story problem for us," she says. "How do two characters forgive each other?" Her mind immediately went to Beltane, a festival during which both Yen and Ciri were born. Viewers will see the enchantress' "romantic reconnections" with Geralt play out here, Hissrich teases. Chalotra also makes note of a familiar black dress that Yen is wearing in this moment — the same garb she wore during the character's first meeting with the White Wolf. "She wouldn't have put that on for no reason," the actress says. Given Baltane is a fertility festival, she adds, "That's enough of a hint." "We're in it now. We're in the thick of the story," says Chalotra, who mentions the third season is "a lot more politically driven." "We get a lot more magic this season, and I was excited for that because I don't think we've seen enough of it," she adds. "Also the movements of magic, which have evolved for Yennefer. We put a lot of Indian dance and movements into this, because we wanted to be specific and for magic to be more placed. We were looking into ways we could do that and make it more personal." Speaking to Yennefer's past sins, Chalotra points out that, "She puts a lot of time and energy and effort into making it up to them at the beginning of season 3. That quite quickly and quite organically evolves into a real family dynamic."

[trucbiduleschouettes]

He saw the girl suddenly start, run… He heard her shrill, piercing cry.

‘Geralt!’

The Witcher turned away from his horse with a swift, agile movement and ran to meet her. Yurga stared open-mouthed. He had never thought a man could move so quickly.

They came together in the centre of the farmyard. The mousy-haired girl in a grey dress. And the white-haired Witcher with a sword on his back, all dressed in black leather, gleaming with silver. The Witcher bounding softly, the girl trotting, the Witcher on his knees, the girl’s thin hands around his neck, the mousy hair on his shoulders. Goldencheeks shrieked softly. Yurga hugged his rosy-cheeked wife when she cried out softly, pulling her towards him without a word, and gathered up and hugged both boys.

‘Geralt!’ the little girl repeated, clinging to the Witcher’s chest. ‘You found me! I knew you would! I always knew! I knew you’d find me!’

‘Ciri,’ said the Witcher.

Yurga could not see his face hidden among the mousy hair. He saw hands in black gloves squeezing the girl’s back and shoulders.

‘You found me! Oh, Geralt! I was waiting all the time! For so very long… We’ll be together now, won’t we? Now we’ll be together, won’t we? Say it, Geralt! Forever! Say it!’

‘Forever, Ciri.’

‘It’s like they said! Geralt! It’s like they said! Am I your destiny? Say it! Am I your destiny?’

Yurga saw the Witcher’s eyes. And was very astonished. He heard his wife’s soft weeping, felt the trembling of her shoulders. He looked at the Witcher and waited, tensed, for his answer. He knew he would not understand it, but he waited for it. And heard it.

‘You’re more than that, Ciri. Much more.’

---

As I said, I read the two first witcher book yesterday and I'm really enjoying it so far, so I wanted to doodle something for it!

Not my best work, but that was still fun! I'll figure out how to draw those guys eventually! [Do not use/repost]

[ponder-the-orb]

Broken Horizons Chapter 10: Preview

“Perhaps we should have taken Oskar up on his offer to paint this instead. At least this time, murdering a mummy-lord would not be required.”

“Considering the original painting he gifted you is currently collecting dust in the tower’s basement, we were fairly certain you’d be happier with a different artist.”

Ciri huffs out a laugh. “Well it was a shit reward for everything we did for him. The memory of that spell-rot still gives me nightmares sometimes.” She swallows back the dozen other tasks it had taken to get that artist unpossesed. She’d rather not sully the first tenday of married life with that particular rant.

“Besides,” she continues, finally taking the painting in fully. “This is perfect now.”

They’d taken their reception at the harbour, so both of them had been captured standing tall against the golds and pinks of the early-evening sea. She’s wrapped around Gale, her head on his shoulder and the painted light kissing over the bare stretch of her collarbones. Her wedding dress falls off her chest in white rivulets, a cool contrast to Gale’s vibrant purple doublet. She’d mostly forgotten the finer details of his ensemble until now, just the rumble of his laugh as she’d ripped off the buttons in a tipsy haze that night.

Even amongst all this softness, she’s glad the artist did not blur away her rougher edges. He’d insisted more than once that it was absolutely no trouble to remove the burn scars on her neck or her mismatched eyes ‘if the new Mrs. Dekarios would be so inclined.’ Smoke had started to pour from the palm resting on Gale’s chest before he’d finally taken the hint. The curves of the now-silent orb are captured there, twisting down like bleeding veins from his eye and into the open collar of his shirt. 

‘As a reminder of past missteps and why I’m still here,’ he’d murmured into her hair when she’d asked why he’d wanted that immortalised too.

Her painted self looks straight out, but his gaze lingers on the curve of her face. It’s a familiar look, one she only sees in the early morning light between tangled limbs and hearts, the one she wants to fold up and press into her skin when the days grow heavy.

Sometimes she forgets just how beautiful he is. She makes a note to send the artist a larger tip.

***

Full chapter coming tomorrow!

(Catch up here)

[lucigoo]

A pair of scarlet rain boots

So, because I have the attention span of a gnat, instead of writing the wips I have, I wrote my FIRST Witcher fic. So enjoy and let me know what you think (Im hising away casues Ive seen Season 1 of the shos and everything else is from the fandom, whoops.)

Also, I'm a plonker and forgot to add the A03 link, ughh!

Here it is

As always, a snippet:

“The Witcher Princess had a lot of lessons. Her new father had whisked her away to a crumbling castle. One full of broken men who found it hard to find joy in the world. Her new mother was strong and powerful and had no idea how to be soft. How not to train her child to be a weapon. Oh, they loved her, With every part of their souls. They loved her so much they wanted her prepared. They wanted to train her to face every evil the world would throw at her, and trust me, the world threw a lot of shit at her,” Ciri said with a self decrypting huff. “But then, there he was. The White Wolf’s Bard. The one who remembered that the Witcher Princess was still a little girl, growing up with these powerful, wonderful people who hadn’t been fully human for a long time. These wonderful people who loved their little Princess with all their hearts, but had diluted the other human emotions she was feeling deeply. But not him,” she said, having to take deep breaths, so she didn’t sob. “He was human. The only mortal in a life full of immortals and long living folk. And it was obvious, in his every action, how much he loved. How much he loved her, her family, and the world in general. Oh, he wasn’t a fighter, the White Wolf’s Bard, not really. But by Melitele did he fight for me. For my right to be myself. To be a little girl.” “There wasn’t a lot of colour in Kher Morhen Dara, apart from a Bard who dressed like a peacock and a Witcher Princess who had been gifted a pair of scarlet rain boots so she could go jump in the puddles. So she could play and sing and dance in the rain with the Bard laughing in that melodic voice of his. Her parents loved her, protected her, taught her. But the Bard, he helped her live with her humanity,” Ciri finally said before she burst into tears, picking her daughter up in one arm and the boots in the other.

[winters-mistress]

Moonblood

Let it be known that Geralt and his brothers are, all in all, good men. Yeah, they can be dicks -like that time Eskel and Geralt had dressed up as Wyverns and leaped upon their brother while he slept, or that time Lambert had spiked a bottle of white gull with a certain medicinal herb that made the thief more than obvious- but they are good men. Stupid, granted -Geralt had thrown Lambert off a snowdrift when they were training, while Eskel had tried to balance the wall after drinking two entire tankards of brandy- but they are good men.

Geralt had tried to make it clear on the trip up to Kaer Morhen with his new ward. All in all, she seemed to believe him, until Lambert had started hissing at her, about the way the pretty little princess did her pretty little hair and wore her pretty little dress and stuck her pinky up when she drank water. Ciri had thrown a horse shoe at him, and all deemed to have been well after that. Lambert was less of a knob, Eskel tried his best to push past his pain of yet another blonde daughter of Kaer Morhen running around the hallways, Coen was thrilled to have another lover of the arts amongst the cranky wolves, and Vesemir slipped into the old master role with ease.

Things had been going well -albeit with Cirilla's still wild powers popping up at the most inconvenient of times- with his girl eager to learn anything they would teach her. Swordplay, hand to hand combat, star throwing, sword making and even the mundane things like hunting, skinning, cooking, harvesting and laundry she took to with eagerness. It had probably been those weeks of confusion and helplessness that spurned her onwards in all things they taught her, eager never to be how she had been ever again.

And it was because of her determination and her willingness to get down and scrap with the witchers, sampling the alcohol they had let her have and twirling a cheese knife when she was taught how, with her messily tied braid and dusty cheeks as Lambert taught her all the fun curse words Eist hadnt gotten around to yet as he went theiught he basics of bombs, that they almost forgot the most obvious thing of all.

Ciri was a girl.

And that was why it was so startling to Geralt when Lambert had started snipping at the girl because of her washed hair and face -was it about that? Geralt hadn't been paying attention, he was so shocked at her reaction that the context didn't seem important anymore- that ciri simply dropped her spoon into her bowl of porridge, and promptly burst into tears.

All of the witchers took a deep breath, rearing back as if the girl would suddenly leap out and strike. She didn't do that, simply sat there on the bench and cried into her hands.

Geralt reaches over to her, having stayed close when her scent had changed a couple days ago. He didn't know why, and with all the Kings and Mages hunting the girl, any changes was concerning. That and the sudden metallic scent of blood he had noted when the girl had walked into the room that morning, he was very unnerved by this reaction.

Not knowing what else to do, and with his mind spinning as he tried to come up with a reason of why his girl was acting so differently, the witcher reaches out and brings her into his arms. She goes willingly, clinging to him as she continues to cry.

"I-I-I- uh-" Lamb stutters, looking at his brother, eyes wide. He's befuddled, and obviously concerned that his brother will be the one to leap at him and pummel him.

Geralt cuddles his girl as best he can, shushing her, and taking in the scent once more. It's different than her usual honey and lemon and rose petals, more salty and bitter, as well as the metallic scent of blood.

Changes of scent, blood, crankiness- oh.

"Ah." The penny finally drops, running his hands over her back as she sniffles. "I get it now."

And it seems that his brothers and father attain the same knowledge at the same time. They relax and tense in the same moment, obviously unsure of what to say.

"Get what? I disnt-" Lmabert speaks fast.

"Can you not smell the blood?" Eskel huffs quietly, cuffing his brother. "She's a girl. They bleed."

"What? I-oh. Oh. Yeah, I get it. Fuck. I-fuck." Lambert rambles. "Umm, I'm very sorry, Ciri. Didn't mean to upset ya." He drawls awkwardly, fiddling with his blackened fingers.

She finally starts to compose herself, but doesn't seem willing to let go of Geralt just yet.

"Shit-uh-" Vesemir mutters. "Girl, if you don't feel up to training or lessons, you can have a few days away from it. Don't want to pressure you." He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "And, if you want to head back to bed, that's fine too. Or train as normal, whatever works for you."

Ciri sniffles, and stops crying, but doesn't let go of the white haired witcher, nor look at his kin.

"Uh, you want a tonic? For the pain? I'm sure we can find something that'll work to take the discomfort. Does it hurt, lovers have mentioned that it does." Vesemir starts to ramble.

Geralt, Eskel and Lambert grunt in disgust. Eskel groans in agony, while Lambert gags.

"Melitele's tits, old man. Last thing any of us want to picture is you sticking your dick in a woman."

Geralt gags at that, and Ciri manages a giggle.

Coën shares a grin with the old wolf, both of them knowing why he had added the last part.

"In all seriousness, you need anything, girl? We could rip up some of the old bedsheets for cloth, figure out what tonic would make ya feel better. Can look in some of the old textbooks for that tea recipe the matrons used to swear by." Coën says, looking at the girl as she finally pulls from Geralt a little. He slings an arm around her shoulders as she burrows in.

"Yes, thank you." She whispers, wiping her blotchy face.

"Come on-" Geralt pulls at her wrists as he stands. "let's get you laying down, that'll make you feel better? Can get a waterskin, fill that up with some hot water, does that help."

"It-it does." She nods, standing up. She looks at the other witchers. "Thanks, for being nice, I guess. I know it's not something you deal with usually."

"Nonsence, girl. Get restin', feelin' better. You're no use to us all teary and bloody." Lambert smirks, sincerely hoping the girl wouldn't cry again.

And by the way she huffs and flips him off, he's amused and jovial once again.

Now, where are those bedsheets?

[hanzajesthanza]

about geralt and eskel (crossroads spoilers)…

even though eskel wasn’t in crossroads himself, i love how he’s a recurring motif. damn it, i would love to see more about these two. they are like the epitome of “he’s not heavy, he’s my brother”. (and as an only child i find that fascinating, very unique and curious).

and something which hit me. is how geralt and eskel’s relationship changed over time, as they got older.

the first story we ever hear of them is about the bumblebee, a memory from childhood: incredibly innocent and silly, boyish, mischievous. of course, they are disciplined pretty brutally for it* but it’s a real childish game

later, at the beginning of this book—when geralt is still more innocent—he “brightens up” at being able to mention something funny about his brother, recalling his name… he’s left kaer morhen, he’s not side by side with him anymore, but still his memory brightens with a mention of him

towards the end of this book—geralt is still young, but no longer innocent—he uses eskel’s name as a psuedonym, as he’s stalking a man to murder him in cold blood.

it’s a bit of levity to an otherwise predictable situation (we know when the white wolf goes on the prowl, he catches his prey, haha, similar situations can be seen in the saga so we pretty much know how this will turn out)

but despite the dark subject matter, it’s still tinged with a bit of mischief. eskel won’t actually have these murders pinned on him, because geralt uses his name that he doesn’t use anymore, but it’s still a bit like how a boy geralt might respond to vesemir asking who knocked over some alchemy equipment: “noooo, wasn’t me, it was eskel”. funnily shoving the blame onto his brother, who is miles and miles away from him at this point. and wholly unable to retort, “what?! nooo, wasn’t me, geralt did it!”

by blood of elves, both of them have matured, they’re men in their 50s now, they’re professionals. witchers. they’ve both managed to survive. their bond still persists, but is that of men, not boys—a comment, “you’re alive,” a sudden, quick, wordless embrace… a brief moment. and yet they are so similar, carbon copies, just with different color palettes. (select > ctrl-C > ctrl-V > ctrl-U > adjust the hue slider).

and what their bond is now is not so many jokes and mischief, but a shared responsibility, to raise a child, to take care of their home, to bide by their old father, to groan at their younger brother. and between them, a shared sense of nobleness, eskel was very polite and upstanding to triss merigold, geralt was too, and in his emotionality… yeah.

they grew up.

(* note, one could argue that belt whippings are normal discipline in this universe, but i ask you to look at how geralt never beats ciri with his belt, only threatens it once, but never goes through with it—rather he shares with her his food and relents to her the two apples. how tuzik never beat his daughter until he came home one day and she had dressed herself up as falka. and how andrzej sapkowski himself, in historia i fantastyka, said he is such a pacifist he cannot even spank a child. imo, it’s pretty obvious that belt discipline is considered an extreme, it’s used to invoke a sting of pathos in the witcher, it’s unable to be glazed over)

[moonchild-in-blue]

Okay, so I'm finally caught up with The Witcher 3 and as expected, most of the discourse here is about our favourite bard Jaskier and his hot lover. And while I LOVE him and Radovid, I really wanna see more discussion about the rest of show. So here's some of my favourite points/moments/whatever before vol. 2 comes out:

Yennefer genuinely trying to make amends with everyone, and becoming a better person. Her letters to Geralt?? Love them.

Ciri being not very great at magic - very refreshing to see a Chosen One™ teenage girl actually struggling and being clumsy and imperfect, and seeing her abilities improve realistically. Very tired of seeing the "trains for one week and instantly becomes a master at magic/whatever skill" trope.

On that same note, I really love that she gets to be a badass fighter, dirty and scruffy, but also still enjoys her pretty dresses and other traditionally feminine things. Girls are both, one doesn't excuse the other, and I just find that very neat.

Domestic Geralt and Yen. The dinners, the anniversary celebration, co-parenting Ciri. Hella cute 🥺

VERY interesting to see Nilfgaard seeking yet another truce with Francesca and the elves. Literally one of my favourite plot points of season 2 - Nilfgaard are the supposed "evil" ones, and yet so far are the only ones actively helping out the elves, even if with an agenda.

Emhyr burning his portraits and Pavetta's, erasing his past as Dunny. I'm very interested to see how the father dynamic parallels between him, Geralt and Ciri will play out.

Cahir, my skrunkly boy. ✨Him✨ Is he evil? Is he kinda okay? Is he actually disgusted with himself for murdering his elf boyfriend, and thus securing his position in the Nilfgaardian court, knowing that he's simply sinking deeper into Emhyr's grasp as merely a pawn, or is he just a cold-blooded army blorbo, and truly believes that the White Flame is the answer? Who knows!

Fringilla?? Living her best life as a free woman, dancing and drinking the trauma away? We love to see. Her hair looked AMAZING in the tavern scene. But please, someone give her something to do, girlie was NOT made for the streets.

Yarpen (his that his name?) is such a sweetheart, I love him 🥺

RIP Fern and her husband (am bad at names), and all that Library of Alexandria worth of knowledge and literature.

Love love love the gay uncle/rebel teenager relationship between Jaskier and Ciri. They're so funny together. Them spying on Geralt and Yen?? Fabulous.

YEN FINALLY BECAME A MOTHER. Listen, I almost teared up when Tissaia said that because, ugh. I love their friendship. And Tissaia is one of the very few people who really knows Yennefer, and how much having a child meant for her. And now she is, and she gets to be a parent with Geralt. And she's so awesome. I love that she, unlike Triss, isn't always kind and gentle with Ciri. She knows how much Ciri is struggling for control, she gets it. And she allows herself to be vulnerable and truthful with her - something that even Geralt struggles to do at times [with Ciri].

Geralt learning that his mother has died, and genuinely crying, less because of her passing, but more because he never understood why she abandoned him, and how much that hurt. Especially now that he's a father himself, and knows what true love and care and fear for a child means. Because he could never, ever hurt or endanger Ciri the way Visenna hurt him. Because there's always another way, it has to be. Someone correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this like the first time we see him cry? I don't remember if he actually shed any tears after Sodden, or when Roach died. Crazy to think he's been alive for so many decades, and yet still carries so much hurt and saddens towards his mother.

Jaskier having a crush is so cute hahaha. But also, I love the way he talks about his love for Geralt. Because sure, he's a slut (affectionately), and sure, him and Radovid? Their chemistry and connection is off the charts. But Geralt? His love for Geralt is so genuine, it runs so much deeper than people realise. It's unfair to say it's purely platonic or romantic or whatever because how can you even label a love that profound? "Family goat", AS IF BURN BUTCHER BURN ISN'T THE MOST HEART-WRENCHING, ANSTY BREAKUP SONG EVER, like okay, we all know how you really feel about Mr. Grumpy Pants. Honestly, big thank you Joey Batey, he really brings that romantic artist energy to life.

Philippa and Djikstra being in a bdsm relationship was NOT on my bingo cards. We love a dominatrix witch.

Tissaia's hair. She looks superb.

In comparison, someone please give my girl Triss some hair conditioner. Why did they let her walk around like that like, bestie, define your curls, please I'm begging you.

Vengefortz being the Big Bad - I did have a suspicion but didn't really want to believe it. What he did to those girls was atrocious and messed up, I was legitimately horrified. But also, bravo, whatever his purpose is, he pulled it off quite well.

Istred with that hair and eyeliner. Weirdly hot. Kinda wanted to see more of him.

Jaskier x Valdo Marx beef was EVERYTHING. I cackled when his trope appeared on the boat like fucking glee club. Their song on the conclave was extremely annoying tho, I did not love the constant replay of scenes.

GERALT SAID I LOVE YOU. Geralt said I love you. To Yennefer. Out loud. In public nonetheless. Gasping, clutching my pearls, screaming, crying, throwing up. I love them so much.

Yennefer serving looks 24/7 like the total boss babe she is.

Also, side note but, have you noticed that this season (so far) has had much less ~spicy~ scenes, or just generally less hyper-sexualised content, especially when it came to Yen/Geralt? Even the others, all of the sex scenes felt a lot more "plot relevant", and less "fan-servicey" than in previous seasons, which I for one really appreciate. I feel like before, especially s1, every other scene was an opportunity to show Yen's boobs or Geralt shirtless. Now it feels more, respectful? reigned in? Not that there's anything wrong with it - I'll never say no to a nice titty shot of Henry Cavill - but it can definitely take away the focus from the story, which is a shame because the plot is so rich and there's so much happening.

[galateaencore]

Cybernoir Witcher AU! this sounds soo interesting

It's my favorite one, but what of it is written doesn't have a succinct excerpt (or an especially cyberpunky one) /: apologies for the length

The day of, she got up early to schlep across town for the waxing lady. No problem – she took the time to plan her outfit. Geralt and Yen were on a break, but Yen always left some of her stuff scattered around the apartment to ward off any other candidates. Ciri knew that she left a slip hanging in his closet, a black silk one that came down to her mid-thigh. So what if it was technically underwear? With it she could wear the stilettos she bought with her office shoes money. The only thing they had in common with office shoes was that they were black, but they made her legs look irresistibly long (at least per the last time she wore them, which was at the store). Then, to keep it punk rock, she wore Geralt’s old leather jacket. Anyway, thusly attired, she walked to class and halfway barefoot – obviously, didn’t want to ruin the shoes.

The girls in class looked her over enviously and the boys didn’t dare to look. Ciri kept her chin perky and answered any questions with a mysterious smile; it was uncouth to ask a woman why she dressed up. Because she wanted to! The lecture droned on. In her mind, she was walking down the university steps and there on the sidewalk was he in a black tux and a white shirt with the top three buttons undone, holding open the door to a gleaming red hovercar… The others would come out to gawk but he would have eyes only for her drifting to him slowly like a celestial queen.

When class let out, she put on the shoes and, wincing a little at the way they rubbed on her heels and pinkies, walked outside. The sunset tinted the rush hour smog a beautiful golden orange and spilled over the marble like molten gold. Her gaze skidded down the steps. He was on time. Like an icebreaker parting the torrent of students escaping into their private lives, he stood in the middle of the square with his eyes fixed immutably on her. She wondered again how old he was: with his hair romantically combed back and in that old bomber over a turtleneck, he seemed one of them, at most a young professor, but certainly not a trillionaire. There was no hovercar. She felt overdressed.

[lupawolff]

I've seen a couple good omens witcher aus that keep depicting crowley as jaskier and aziraphale as geralt. Which I absolutely love and it definitely fits in some aspects but my first thought was the opposite and I haven't seen anything about it. So here's my take on it.

The Witcher & His Angel

Crowley as geralt. A man who's trying his best with the cards he was dealt. A witcher with long fiery red hair that rides around on a pitch black horse.

Aziraphale as jaskier. A bard who appreciates food a little more than he probably should. He who endlessly trails after crowley and creates songs about this mighty witcher.

Adam as ciri. The child surprise that crowley swore to protect and care for. The kid that lost his family only to gain another. He who has a magnificent power that can change the world.

Anathema as yen. A witch that's fighting for what she thinks is best. She who wasn't aware of her destiny until it dragged her kicking and screaming. A powerful witch who will stop at nothing to get what she wants.

Bentley as roach. A sassy, petty horse that's always seen with crowley. She plays a long time ongoing joke with her rider, who hates it.

Crowley has sensory issues from going through the trials twice.

Crowley grunts, hisses and purrs more effectively then the others

Crowley's called the hellhound because of his looks and his status as a witcher

Crowley has sharp teeth, long pointed black claw-like nails, and odd yellow eyes with even odder pupils to match.

Crowley calls aziraphale angel because of the way he sings and his overall demeanor

Bentley will neigh or walk in a specific rhythm to a couple songs they heard a bard sing once. This drives crowley insane and bentley will do this nearly every time they go somewhere.

Aziraphale who always carries tea ingredients with him. Who often has ink smeared across his hands from writing.

Aziraphale who sticks out from normal people because he dresses in creams and tans. Along with his bright white hair.

Aziraphale hates conflict yet carries around a sword. A sword he won't talk about the origins of but when unsheathed glows like it was set aflame.

Aziraphale who left a rich cozy life to explore the world. He ran away from his family and it went unnoticed for days, until they needed him for some task but couldn't find him.

I absolutely love this silly little idea and will probably expand on it. Y'all are welcome to ask questions or share general thoughts if ya want!!