#yengilla

[thence-we-came-forth]

for requests-- wild you be interested in doing yengilla? thank you!

A little post Sodden Yengilla!!!

(Taking requests y'all)

[kuwdora]

[fanvid] - Skipping Stones (Fringilla Vigo) music: "Skipping Stones" by Claire Guerreso source: The Witcher Netflix pairings: Fringilla/Yen, Fringilla/Francesca, Fringilla/Power length: 3:52 Summary: I'm a skipping stone, an echo on the water. Content Warnings: Explicit acts of violence, eye trauma, infant death. download (right click save as): High quality mp4 (283MB) Low quality mp4 (95MB)

I adore Fringilla and I want her to have everything.

Watch streaming on AO3

[lambden]

i consistently forget to crosspost my flash fics (because theyre posted anonymously to ao3 so by the time they actually publish they've left my to-do list 😭) but this website is always lacking in yengilla so fuck it here we go! especially poignant for today as this fic contains a terrible hangover, which i currently have. thanks st patrick

originally posted on ao3 here! M (sexual content + nudity but no smut), 4075 words, yennefer/fringilla, modern AU with no content warnings

The entire drive back home, her shoulders shake. Her knees wobble as she storms up to the apartment, and her keys tremble violently in the lock as she tries to force them in at the wrong angle. When she manages to let herself in, she slams the door behind herself so loudly that the whole building seems to shake. The whole world feels unstable, and it’s all Fringilla can do not to shake apart at the seams and crumble into a big heap of clothes and dust.

She launches herself at the fridge, anticipating the remainder of a bottle of wine so as to drown her sorrows. Instead her gaze lands on the meal that she prepared last night. Because, of course, she’d cooked dinner in advance, because it’s Yennefer’s fucking birthday and she’s supposed to go fucking celebrate. How many things can one fuck-up of a person forget?

She dials Yennefer’s number before she even registers pulling out her cell phone. To her best friend’s credit, the line only rings once before Yen picks up. “Hey, Fringilla, what’s—”

“I can’t come out,” Fringilla blabbers. “I can’t— I’m so sorry, I just can’t make it, I— I really badly fucked up a school thing and I think I’m going to lose my scholarship and my uncle won’t pay my tuition and I, um, I know it’s your birthday, I’m really sorry, I will absolutely send you money so you can get drunk tonight but I need to figure something out or else… Or else I’ll…”

“Hang on,” Yen says, firm and steady. Her voice is like a drop in the roaring ocean of panic, but Fringilla still pauses. “Let me… it’s loud in here, alright? Give me a second.”

Even as upset as she is, Fringilla somehow musters up amusement at Yennefer and her ever-busy life. “Where are you?”

“Tissaia took me out for lunch.” It sounds more like she’s at a nightclub, or in the lemur exhibit of the zoo. Then a door shuts as Yennefer likely sequesters herself in the bathroom. Her voice takes on a different quality. “What do you need to figure out?”

Fringilla closes the fridge and miserably drags herself over to the couch. “It’s so stupid,” she whines. “Like, really fucking stupid. I messed up the dates for our final project, and I thought… okay. So, they had a model come to the school so we could sketch them and I missed the first date but there was a make-up session. And I thought the make-up session was today, but it turns out it was last week, and the deadline is today. And if I fail this class, I’m absolutely fucked.”

“So you need… what, a model?” Yen laughs. 

Fringilla closes her eyes tightly, blocking out the cruel sound. She only reconnected with Yennefer recently; after boarding school their paths grew apart and their rivalry had dwindled down to nothing. She’s been trying hard to make this friendship work, but she supposes that some of the old wounds are still sore. Or, at least, she’s extra sensitive right now because her life is falling the fuck apart.

Yen coaxes, bringing her back to reality, “Bring your sketchbook out tonight. There’ll be tons of models!”

“Won’t work,” says Fringilla, salty and embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“Because… it was a nude modelling session,” she mutters. “The model was naked.”

She half-expects Yennefer to suggest they go to the strip club, cavalier as anything, but the woman is uncharacteristically quiet. Fringilla can still hear white noise through the call— Yennefer’s heavy breaths, reduced to tinny audio— but otherwise it’s like the line has gone dead.

“Yen—”

“Why don’t you just watch some porn?” Her friend’s voice has taken on an entirely different tone now, one that Fringilla hasn’t heard since they fumbled around a few times. Her blood races even at the word ‘porn’, making her feel juvenile. “There are millions of naked photos online, Fringilla. You could probably even find nudes of the same model.”

“It won’t be the same,” she says, although that is a really good idea. She juggles her phone into her hands and puts the call on speaker, tapping in ‘Francesca Findabair naked photos’. The query returns only a few results, and none of them even look that much like pornography. With a jolt of humiliation, Fringilla realizes she has SafeSearch on. “I need… I need to look at them in person. I can draw from reference, but it’s never the same as seeing the real thing. But… ugh, I guess I can try.”

“That’s the spirit,” Yennefer says, still sounding a little thick. Without warning, she hangs up the call, leaving Fringilla staring at the screen and wondering if it dropped. But Yen doesn’t call her back, so maybe someone else just walked into the bathroom, or maybe Tissaia came to fetch her. After all, it is her birthday. Fringilla should probably bother something else with this.

Her eyes unfocus as she stares at Francesca Findabair’s website. All the photos are incredibly tasteful, and it looks like she does more photography and activism than modelling. The button labelled ‘Contact Me?’ is only one tap away, but Fringilla hesitates.

“I can’t,” she wails to her empty, unsympathetic living room. The dying plant in the corner offers no response. Fringilla swears, setting down her phone and going to heat up dinner. If she’s going to look up random naked people on the internet, she would rather not do it on an empty stomach.

Before she knows it, the microwave has beeped at least six times and she’s deep in a rabbit hole of ethical pornography consumption. Porn has never done much for Fringilla so she’s not sure where to begin to look; even the websites with user-posted content don’t say much about the users consenting to having their likenesses drawn. She looks up nude stock photos and clicks through about four dozen photographs of a lovely woman named Callonetta, but nothing strikes her interest the way a real person would. She considers, idly, using her own reflection— but given that she can’t even draw her own hand without getting frustrated, she thinks it might lead her down a dark path of self-deprecation.

In succession: the microwave beeps a seventh time. Fringilla declares, “Fuck this!” And the buzzer to her apartment rings.

Outside the door is Yennefer, who doesn’t give Fringilla even a millisecond to breathe before heading straight inside. Fringilla doesn’t shriek but it’s a near thing. There’s a dish in the sink from breakfast and her bed is unmade. She hasn’t swept the floors, or wiped the mirrors, and on her phone screen there is still a picture of a blonde naked woman holding a guitar.

Yennefer enters this mess without hesitation or apparent complaint, her gaze sweeping over most of the daily debris. She sees the phone, because of course she does, and she snatches it up, laughing again. Mean and beautiful, just like she was back at Aretuza. “Pretty. Is she your type?”

“No,” Fringilla almost screams, lunging for her phone. Yennefer hands it over easily, grinning as Fringilla swipes away the photos of Callonetta. The woman’s violet gaze is shrewd and too smart for Fringilla’s liking, and under her coat is an extremely tight black dress that looks like she might have been sewn into it. Her birthday dress. Fringilla screws up her face, shaking her head. “Yen, I can’t go out with you. I’m sorry!”

“I know,” huffs Yennefer. “I felt too sorry for you, darling, I couldn’t go out drinking without my favourite girl.” Fringilla’s face heats at that, and she steps away, pocketing her phone. “So I gave it some thought, and I came up with another solution.”

Since she was a child, Fringilla has been extraordinarily bad at accepting help. She understands the benefit of community, but as she was packaged up and sent off to a boarding school for exceptional children, and then failed to make any lasting friendships there, she began to discover that most things really do just work better when you tackle them yourself. She bites her lip now, beginning the motion of shaking her head, psyching herself up for the inevitable fight this will turn into. But the awful, frustrating truth is that she doesn’t want Yennefer to help her, not when Yennefer’s career has gone so perfectly and Fringilla has fought tooth and nail every step of the way. This isn’t her final assignment but it’s important, and she fucked up and she knows it but she still thinks she can handle it herself.

Then Yennefer offers her solution, and Fringilla’s petty irritation evaporates in a heartbeat.

“Yen,” she begins, shakily, as Yennefer takes off her coat. The dress is next; she pulls it up to reveal dark, but not opaque tights stretched over her hips. Under the tights are underwear, under the bust of the dress is nothing. Her breasts spill out easily. Fringilla has, of course, seen her own bare chest in the mirror countless times, but it’s wholly different to see someone else. Her voice softer, more fragile, Fringilla breaks: “Yennefer—”

“Oh, stop it.” Yen actually tsks. Fuck, she’s infuriating. “You need a model, right? So draw me. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

That much is true. Fringilla still hesitates, even as her mind replays the memories of what they had shared together. She hasn’t seen the other woman like this since the night before they graduated. Somehow, she looks better than ever.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” bitches Yen. “Fine. Fine! I’ll just strip down right here, shall I?”

And Yennefer kicks off her heels, and as Fringilla tries very hard to come up with some kind of coherent protest, the tights come off too. They roll down in one smooth motion, pulling Yennefer’s underwear along with them. Her thighs are bare but other than that she’s unshaved; Fringilla is drawn to the sight like a magnet to the earth’s pole. She stares, helplessly, at the thick mess of curls above Yennefer’s cunt.

The microwave beeps.

Fringilla lets out a squeak, and hurries to open and then slam the microwave door shut. When she turns around, mortified, Yennefer is watching her with deep, mean amusement. Her legs are slightly spread, and her hands are on her hips like she knows exactly what she’s doing. She steps away from her pile of clothes, over to Fringilla’s sparsely decorated living room. She starts to descend onto the couch, and all Fringilla can think about over the furious pounding of her heart is that if Yennefer sits on the couch with her bare pussy, Fringilla will never, ever be able to sit there again without getting insanely fucking horny.

She cries, “Wait!” Yennefer straightens up, and looks over— her small breasts bounce with the movement. Fringilla rounds the couch. “Wait, you…”

Yennefer, for the first time in years, seems timid. She doesn’t cover up but something in her posture changes, making her look like she once had, before Aretuza.

“Not on the couch,” Fringilla demands. “This isn’t Titanic, for fuck’s sake. Get… get on the ottoman.”

Yen glances over at the small ottoman, then shoots her an incredulous look. Fringilla huffs, pulling the footstool over so that she has space to sit on it— and carefully not ogling her in the process.

Yennefer sits, stiffly but not properly, her ankles crossed and her thighs and calves pressed tightly together. Like this, it looks like she could be bathing. Not salacious, aside from the nudity, but not vulnerable either.

“Not— okay, it’s… that’s fine, but I’d like it better like this,” Fringilla tries, sitting down on the couch across from Yennefer. She pulls up her feet onto the sofa, plastering her thighs to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees. Yennefer, slowly but surely, does the same; she lowers her head to tuck her chin out of sight until only her eyes and nose peek out from above her arms, and Fringilla nods fervently. “Yes, that’s perfect. Can you hold that?”

“Yes,” grumbles Yennefer. “You’re missing all the good parts, though.”

“Well…” Fringilla clears her throat. When did her apartment get so fucking hot? “... Not really.”

Her gaze dips down to steal a glance between Yennefer’s parted ankles, where her gorgeous cunt is hidden in shadow. Fringilla swallows a dry mouthful of air, and when she looks back up to meet Yennefer’s gaze, she sees those violet eyes focused right on her.

“I had better grab my sketchbook,” she stutters, unfolding her body. Yennefer doesn’t move a muscle. “Just… hold it right there.”

-

This isn’t how she had expected to celebrate her birthday.

Fringilla hasn’t moved since she sat down with her sketchbook, except to occasionally shift back and forth on the couch. The sleeves of her college-branded sweater are rolled up to her elbows, and she keeps biting her lip and sticking her tongue out in concentration as her focus dances between her artwork and her model. Yennefer watches her just as closely, taking in the wispy baby hairs above her ears, the lines of her neck, the set of her shoulders. 

When she had known Fringilla, they were just girls— teenagers who fooled around and broke into Tissaia’s secret herb storage, but girls nonetheless. Fringilla is a woman now, and as much as Yennefer has been enjoying rekindling their friendship, she has to admit that she doesn’t really know the woman before her at all. Fringilla’s face might have stayed beautifully smooth and free of wrinkles but her eyes are deep and wise, and there’s a measured sadness in her smile.

Yennefer doesn’t know much about what happened after they stopped talking. She knows Fringilla graduated with honours from university and now is in grad school, pursuing art for some fucking reason. It brings Yen no small amount of joy to imagine how much the art degree must piss off Fringilla’s stuffy old uncle. The joy is only slightly tempered by the knowledge that Fringilla never wanted to go into art— unlike all the other bleeding hearts at Aretuza, Fringilla had been a stickler for the rules. She wanted nothing more than for her life to follow a strict and rigid trajectory— the same trajectory that Yennefer has found herself on. It would be amusingly ironic if it wasn’t so depressing.

Fringilla bites her lip again, this time as she stares between Yennefer’s legs. Her soft lead pencil swirls and swirls, scratching the paper rhythmically, and Yennefer realizes Fringilla must be drawing her pubes. Again, that should be funnier than it really is. Her cunt pulses; she’s been wet for at least the last hour, but somehow the idea of Fringilla carefully drawing each hair is enough to send another rush of arousal through her.

Well, truth be told, she’s been wet since back at the restaurant, when she’d called Fringilla from the bathroom and heard her say ‘nude’ in that stupid, stuck-up, prim and proper voice.

Yennefer rolls her neck around, just once— it isn’t even a full rotation, but Fringilla’s eyes snap up to meet hers. Fury courses through her expression, with remorse hot on its heels. “If you need a break, tell me,” she says harshly.

“I’m fine,” mutters Yennefer, burrowing down behind her folded arms again.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Fringilla says, distracted. It’s actually the first time that she’s thanked her, but Yen isn’t going to get pedantic. She’s distracted too— trying to keep her muscles all still is a workout of its own, especially when Fringilla is staring so closely at the outline of her calves and her breasts pressed up against her knees and her bare ankles. This would work a lot better if Fringilla had just tied her down. Still sounding absent, the other woman offers, “I can get you a drink if you’d like?”

“This would have worked better if you’d just tied me down.” Damn her stupid, stupid, impulsive brain. Fringilla’s eyes flash but she doesn’t rise to Yennefer’s offer or chide her for making jokes, just nodding before returning to the sketch. Somehow the lack of a reaction is more annoying than chastising would have been. “We can get drinks after.”

“Right,” Fringilla mutters. “I’ve never pregamed like this before.”

That knocks a surprised laugh out of Yennefer; her pulse quickens as Fringilla’s eyes dip down between her legs when she laughs. Is she moving there? Is it visible? Experimentally, she tightens and then relaxes her cunt. 

If Fringilla can see a difference, she doesn’t let it show on her face. “I hope I’m not making everyone wait tonight. I really do appreciate your help with this.”

“It’s fine. We weren’t going out until later anyway, right?”

“Right.” Fringilla clears her throat. “Did you invite anyone special?”

Rather than pointing out that she’s spending her afternoon sitting naked in a special someone’s tiny apartment so that they can draw her naked, Yennefer changes the subject: “Do you remember that one time we snuck out to that bar down by Tor Lara?”

Fringilla smiles, and it is radiant. “Yeah. We were all counting on Triss’ ID to get us in, even though none of us looked like her at all.”

“Yes! And poor Triss only wanted to order fries, but we told the bartender it was her birthday and he brought over those godawful shots—”

“Oh, those were terrible—”

“And do you remember Glacella dancing?”

“I remember having to carry her out,” deadpans Fringilla. “Although, granted, she wasn’t as bad as Sabrina! Remember how she threw up in the bathroom?”

“’Course. I remember her throwing up all over one of the Tor Lara boys’ pricks!”

“That is not true,” Fringilla actually gasps. Yennefer laughs; she can’t help it. “None of us were cool enough at Aretuza to actually hook up with anyone.”

“Well,” drawls Yen. “That’s not accurate. We were pretty cool.”

“We were the lamest of all,” laments Fringilla. Despite her whining, she’s obviously embarrassed and pleased by the memory— Yen watches her blush and hide a smile. “We had no idea what we were in for.”

Rather than properly acknowledge that sobering thought, Yennefer cranes her neck to try to sneak a glance at the drawing. Fringilla angles the sketchbook away, and she sighs. “C’mon, I can’t even take a peek?”

“Alright,” Fringilla relents. With obvious hesitation, she turns it around to reveal her work. Yennefer’s anticipation dies in her throat as she stares blankly at the figure on the page.

It’s her, but it isn’t— it’s her as she was, back in high school. Sure, her posture looks the same as it does now, and her jaw is even and symmetrical, but Fringilla has captured none of her adult beauty and all of her inner vulnerability. Curled around herself like this, she looks defensive.

“You’re going to get a great grade,” Yennefer says, the words ashen on her tongue. I hate it. “Is that really how you see me?”

“No,” Fringilla says quickly. “I… I wanted to capture… I wanted to put you in a different light.” Her face twists horribly. “You don’t like it?”

I fucking hate it. “It makes me… I look so sad,” Yennefer says. “So, I suppose it’s very good art. But I can’t help but wish that you saw me, um…”

“I could draw a pin-up,” offers Fringilla. “Really, it might even be better— this is only a first draft!” Her gaze flicks to her watch. They almost certainly don’t have time.

“Fringilla,” Yennefer says, heavy and steady. She lies through her teeth, “I think you nailed it.”

-

Never in her life has Fringilla been this hungover. She practically crawls to the kitchen to grab herself water, noting with distaste the leftover dishes from yesterday and the clothes strewn about her apartment from last night. It’s a wonder she had the good sense to pull on pyjamas, let alone that she’d made it safely into her own bed.

She doesn’t regret it, although right now the pounding ache in her head begs to differ. It had been fun to meet Yennefer’s new friends, and reconnect with their mutual ones— and they were drinking not only to celebrate Yennefer’s birthday, but to celebrate Fringilla not failing her class. She had scanned and sent in the drawing of Yennefer yesterday with a signed consent form they’d drawn up together, and although she hasn’t checked her email she’s sure that her professor will find it as inspiring as she does.

The thought of Yennefer’s disappointed face flashes across her mind. Then another roiling wave of nausea crashes through her whole body, and Fringilla clings to the edge of the sink, sighing. She literally does not have the capacity to think about Yennefer’s reaction to her nude drawing right now. It’s all she can do to not die of embarrassment thinking about how drunk she’d been last night.

She would love to blame it all on Sabrina, since the blonde had been overly generous and eager to get everyone on her level, but… by the end of the night, Fringilla had been the one begging to make future plans with the others after consuming enough drinks to lose count.

Her doorbell buzzes, and the noise is agonising. Fringilla croaks to the mystery visitor, “Absolutely fucking not.” They can come back later, when she’s a human person and not a stack of bad decisions in a sweaty, smelly sack of skin.

The buzzer rings again. “Fucking fuck.”

Standing outside her door is, impossibly, again, Yennefer. Fringilla doesn’t fully open the door this time, too busy calculating the math in her head. They had been out drinking until three in the morning, and she hadn’t even been the last to leave. According to her traitorous watch, it is eight in the fucking morning. That leaves exactly five hours for Yennefer to make herself beautiful again, which somehow she has, and force herself upright, and, for some fucking reason, return here.

Yennefer pushes past her without saying a word. She’s wearing the same heels as last night, and the same coat— her tights are missing, but she’s otherwise flawless. Fringilla’s head swims, and she groans, “Is this going to be a regular occurrence?”

“I just think you could do better.”

“Better?” Fringilla stares, rubbing her temples. She feels like she’s doing pretty fucking great, all things considered— there are no large puke stains on her PJs, so she’ll call this a win. “Better than what?”

Yennefer pushes the door shut beside them, and unbuckles her coat. She removes it, carefully moving to hang it on the coat rack— Fringilla’s coat should be hung up there too, except she must have thrown it somewhere else last night when she stumbled home. She would take a look for it right now, except she’s got more pressing concerns. Like all the air seems to have left the room, and her heart is going a mile a minute. And Yennefer is completely naked under her coat.

“I,” Fringilla begins. Her gaze dips down to Yennefer’s clean, bare breasts. She catches a whiff of the woman’s signature perfume, and she loses her next thought.

Yennefer, unaffected and unbothered, walks over to the ottoman that she had posed on so diligently last night. She doesn’t say a word, just haughtily staring down her nose at Fringilla from across the apartment— so maybe unbothered isn’t exactly true. She sits, folding her ankles primly.

“Yennefer,” begs Fringilla thickly. “I am so hungover.”

“Show me how you see me,” demands Yen.

“What the fuck,” she mutters, and then, when Yennefer doesn’t move at all, her small breasts heaving indignantly as she waits for Fringilla to join her; “fine, fine, you insane woman, fuck. Fine!”

Her sketchbook is right where she left it, and her pencils are still on the table. Fringilla pads over to sit on the couch in the very same spot, and flips to a new page. Yesterday, Yennefer had been static, dignified— a perfect model. Now her shoulders rise and fall, as though she’s nervous to be portrayed. There’s even a slight affect to her voice: “How do you want me?” If she was anyone else, Fringilla would accuse her of being worried.

She takes a deep breath, setting the sketchbook down on the couch beside her. Fringilla reaches up and begins to unbutton her pyjamas, grumbling, “It’ll be easier if I just show you.”

[littlestsnicket]

title: go ask alice by some-stars

word count: 1.9k

fringilla/yennefer, fantasy drug use, teenage sex, fringilla invents something fun by mixing herbs and decides to share with yennefer

i love the nuance of yennefer’s relationship with fringilla and aretuza in general. you can feel how cold and difficult it is without it tipping into angst or drawing too much away from the little pocket of joy they’ve found here.

excerpt:

She opened her mouth to say that, but what came out instead was, “Why aren’t you ever happy?”

Fringilla’s brow wrinkled as she stared down at Yennefer’s face. Their bodies were still pressed together, a sweet heavy warmth like a quilt on a cold night. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. She sounded sad, and Yennefer could feel her sadness winding its way around her own body like vines of ice.

“I know I’m a bitch to you,” Yennefer said.

Fringilla shrugged. “You’re like that to everyone, though. It’s not…” She frowned, as though she were trying to solve a difficult equation. As Yennefer looked at her the colorful ribbons returned, this time wreathing Fringilla’s face, reflecting colored tints onto her dark skin like stained glass. She was extraordinarily beautiful, Yennefer thought, and reached up a hand to touch her.

“Everyone’s shit to you, though, aren��t they?” she said, tracing her fingers lightly around Fringilla’s frown. “Because of your uncle. It isn’t fair. You are good.”

“I…” Fringilla bit her lip, staring into Yennefer’s eyes like she was under a spell.

[limerental]

I do think a lot of thoughts about the voleth meir plot line tbh. I mean it's. It's not... good. Regardless of book accuracy, everything is so weirdly coincidental. what a coincidence that vesemir happened to tell ciri the exact necessary exposition for things happening in an unrelated part of the world... coincidentally that fringilla's father told her stories about it. that the elves just happen to stumble upon yengilla and then mystical ruins in the same handful of days. blah blah blah the demon's drawing them there whatever. it's lazy storytelling. the characters are driven by chance and seem to know just what to say at the right times to make the story progress.

but on the other hand, I thrive on a good maiden, mother, crone visual. I can never quite decide who is maiden/mother/crone in this scenario but it's blurry. It's three-headed. It's the three fates. It's three choices, three paths. The conversations that happen in the hut are very cool as a concept. Especially fringilla's fear of failure... Yennefer's scars.

But it also just like. Makes no damn sense. Vastly would have preferred if they'd just done a "Yen loses her power post Sodden" storyline without the weird demon. It was right there.

[shipazia]

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 & 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ୨♡୧

───── 💮🌸 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 🌸💮 ─────

❝ 𝐼 𝒦𝐸𝐸𝒫 𝐹𝒪𝑅𝒢𝐸𝒯𝒯𝐼𝒩𝒢 𝐵𝐸𝐸 𝐼𝒮 𝒞𝐼𝒮𝐻𝐸𝒯❞

```˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ sinking ♡ ships • she/her • minor • multifandom

!!╱| 、 (` - 7 |、⁻ 〵 - i’m shipazia on archive of our own! ~ じし ˍ ,)ノ```

╰┈➤ armature creative writer!

✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡ aliases ~ bee, beety, gloomy, brownie, shipazia, sinking-ships

꧁•⊹٭𝙳𝙽𝙸 𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃٭⊹•꧂

✵╰┈➤ Racism, Homophobia, Anti-semitism

✵╰┈➤ 18+ Content

✵╰┈➤ 13+ only!

✵╰┈➤ Jokes concerning physical appearance

✵╰┈➤ Disturbing Imagery

✵╰┈➤ Political

꧁•⊹٭𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙲𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙸𝚃𝚂٭⊹•꧂

✵╰┈➤ PFP: Smile! Precure

✵╰┈➤ BANNER: Smile! Precure

✵╰┈➤ DIVIDERS: @kgymz, @silkholland, @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

──── 💮🌸 interests 🌸💮 ────

⚜ ⊰────── lego ninjago ──❥

❝ reading is the first step to any adventure! go reading go!❞

╰┈➤faves morro, lloyd, kai, jay

╰┈➤ships jaya, destiny, polyninja, kaiylor

╰┈➤platonic destiny, green cousins, ghosts, watermelon

♡ ⊰────── originsmcrp ──❥

❝ once upon a time, there was a small and quaint house❞

╰┈➤faves eden, kol, shino, ooo!xylo, fto!devin, lara, biblico

╰┈➤ships devintchie, eclipse,

╰┈➤platonic neopolitan ice cream,

��� ⊰────── genshin impact ──❥

❝ i never embark on a journey without a good book to accompany me❞

╰┈➤faves wanderer, nahida, keqing, childe, twins, cyno

╰┈➤ships beiguang, zhongchi, cynonari

╰┈➤platonic chiscara, mc & scara, nahida & scara

♔ ⊰────── the witcher ──❥

❝ only myths and fables do not know the limits of possibility ❞

╰┈➤faves jaskier, ciri, yennefer, tissaia, fringilla

╰┈➤ships geraskier, yengilla

╰┈➤platonic ciri and geralt, yennefer and tissaia

*please no spoilers past season 1, or for any of the books!

☠ ⊰────── the nevernight chronicles ──❥

❝ you're a daughter of words. a girl with a story to tell.❞

╰┈➤faves mia, jonen, naev, cloud, ashlinn, jessamine, mercurio

╰┈➤ships ashlinn x mia, bryn x waker

╰┈➤platonic jonen & mia, mercurio & drusilla, adonai & mari

꧁•⊹٭𝙷𝚘𝚋𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚜٭⊹•꧂

︶⊹︶︶⠀୨e୧⠀︶︶⊹︶

✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ art ✦ʚ♡ɞ✦

╰┈❥ art blog @gloomyglosse ♡

✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ reading ✦ʚ♡ɞ✦

╰┈❥ high fantasy, y/a

✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ writing ✦ʚ♡ɞ✦

╰┈❥ fanfiction, original stories, roleplays

──── 💮🌸 masterlist 🌸💮 ────

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

• ༺❀༻ • 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓼

➽──❥ N/A

• ༺❀༻ • 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼

➽──❥ N/A

• ༺❀༻ • 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽𝓻𝔂

➽──❥ N/A

• ༺❀༻ • 𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻

➽──❥

• ༺❀༻ • 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

➽──❥ N/A

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

[dadralt]

6, 17, & 22 for the choose violence game

salt under the cut <3

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

how to choose? there are so many!

but bard stans do take the crown, especially the g*raskiers and y*nskiers.

you've got migratory slash fandom that i loathe and who of course latched onto the two white guys and were the first to turn this fandom so toxic. with all the hate towards anya & yen, erasing her over and over, diminishing her importance to ciri and geralt (the ciri has two dads & wine aunt yen thing? KILL IT WITH FIRE). and they also had to completely change the personalities of both geralt and j*skier, turning geralt into some evil person and woobifying the bard? all of it is so boring. it's your typical racism and misogyny of white slash ships.

then you've got the y*nskiers which is an entirely different bunch. they were bearable at first but s2 turned them into a toxic mess. their arrogance, superiority complex and condescension are unparalleled. with the obvious echo chamber going on. i've had to block so many of them because they made this fandom a really shitty place for me to be in :/ which sucks cause i used to appreciate some of them but oh well...

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

i feel like i repeat this every time i get this ask but F/F ART!!!!!! god. hopefully with philippa being in s3 we'll get some more merihart but also just trissefer, trissbrina, yenbrina, yengilla, etc etc. this fandom has aid*n, v*ldo marx who are 100% completely made up but can't bother to invest in women who actually matter in canon??? not that i'm surprised but it's endlessly frustrating

also because i hate g*raskefer, there needs to be more ot3 love for like yen/triss/geralt or yen/geralt/istredd or just any pairing WITHOUT the bard i'm begging you

and because i'm me and i'm shameless i want more smutty yenralt art lmao 😌😈

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

lol we'd have to agree on which canon we're going off on first 😂

do i get to answer the fact that yenralt is endgame? lmao. i feel like so many people seem to think something else is gonna happen in the end (re: twn) 😅 i mean i know they don't exactly follow the books but still, come on

idk i feel like people tend to struggle with differentiating fanon and canon so often. ship your thing but admit it's not canon (and that's fine, it shouldn't diminish your enjoyment of it)

choose violence ask game

[cherryjuicegf]

"Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver and Yengilla, if you're down!

thanks for the prompt anon!! sorry it's late but this was very interesting to write nonetheless, i hope you enjoy ♡

wc 521

wild geese - mary oliver

"Sweet Melitele." Yennefer sits across the hooded figure in the table and smirks. "Did the great White Flame get weary of his loyal mage?"

Two dark eyes nail her immediately. "Quiet." A shadow resembling fear passes through her hidden face and her voice is hushed, unvoluntarily quivering. Her shoulders tense, then, gaze and voice suddenly sharp. "Spare me you pride, Yennefer." She makes to stand from the table. "I want nothing to do with you."

"Fringilla."

Almost on instinct, she stops. She can leave. She can get out of this tavern and take care of not seeing the woman across her ever again, so that she doesn't hear her voice, she doesn't meet her eyes, she doesn't remember.

But that voice is different than other times. Almost softer.

She looks at Yennefer, and waits. Oh, she is not here to mock.

"How about some company?" Yennefer asks and puts her ale on the table.

Fringilla takes a deep breath, and lowers herself back on the chair, legs still ready to run. But it's not like she will find any company elsewhere. She hasn't talked to a person in weeks.

For a while, Yennefer is silent. Peering at her and she discerns the way her gaze lingers on her face, looks behind the facade of clean clothes. At the weariness that slumps her shoulders, the exhaustion in her eyes.

She wants to distract her but doesn't care enough to do it anymore.

Yennefer shakes her head. "How long have you been on the run?"

A smile, bitter. Days, weeks. Her whole life. "It doesn't matter," she says and, against all odds, she laughs. There's nothing else left anyway. "It doesn't matter after all, does it? It doesn't matter how good, how loyal, how strong you are. It doesn't matter if you trust, if you have faith." Her voice starts shaking again but Yennefer's eyes seem welcoming for the first time. "They will always, always burn you to the ground, because they can. And I was so good." Her eyes are burning but now, more than ever, it's only rage. "I was the best."

Her voice breaks.

There she stands, across Yennefer of Vengerberg, looking straight at her, and knowing more than she wanted to know. And Yennefer shakes her head. Yennefer, somehow, understands.

"Is it so bad, then?" She sounds quieter than usual, she who exists like a bomb. "Wanting to belong as you are? Not be good, or loyal or cruel. Just... be."

Is it so bad, then?

Is it not what she wants, now, after everything?

She doesn't answer. She only looks at Yennefer, at everything she could never be, everything she never had to be. Everything that didn't matter if she ever was or wasn't, because she would end up the same.

And only with a nod, she stands up.

Yennefer's eyes follow her as she steps away. "If you want help..."

And isn't it funny? Fringilla can't help but huff. She shakes her head. "I'll figure it out."

She turns around and walks to the door without looking back.

She feels two violet eyes still nailed on her back as she closes the door.

[fishforjay]

The amount of depth given to Fringilla this season was wonderful and made me really fall in love with the character.

She’s a really good foil (and potential love interest 👀) for Yennefer. Fringilla struggles with finding her own ambition and breaking free. She says as much when talking about her nightmares that she just…lets it all happen and when she was imprisoned she didn’t try to escape. Fringilla has let herself be helpless for far too long and this season is about her finally taking charge and making decisions for herself.

Yennefer meanwhile is the opposite where she was so focused on her own independence that she became self-destructive and she find herself through the support network she makes and the connections she has. It was no coincidence that Yennefer had scenes with so many different characters from Tissaia, Istredd, Vilgefortz, Triss, Sabrina, Fringilla, Geralt and Ciri to Jaskier. Yennefer’s arc this season is about learning that her connections don’t make her weak but strong. Love is not a burden but a gift.

[gorefemmeart]

sweats

[fangirleaconmigo]

Rules: We would like to ask you to recommend us 3 of YOUR fics: 1 that is “most popular” and 2 that are “hidden gems”! (Thanks for the tag @stinastar !)

1. Most popular: This is my most popular COMPLETE multi chapter Geraskier:

Refuge in Lettenhove. Explicit.

Geralt and Ciri are on the run from Nilfgaard. After a narrow escape from certain death, they seek refuge in a Lettenhove court. Geralt is shocked to find that the viscount, (and secret leader in the resistance) is none other than the man he scorned on the mountain. But Jaskier is acting as though he’s never met him before in his life.

It’s adventure, intrigue, twists and turns, lots of Geralt pining and trying to set things right. (And a serving or two of fealty kink.)

2) Hidden gem #1. This is Geraskier as well, so it’s not HIDDEN hidden. But it is a modern au, which, in my experience, is a hard sell in the Witcher fandom.

But, when people give it a chance they seem to love it (judging by the comment section).

To the Dark I Said Pour and Forgot to say When. Teen and up.

Geralt is a long haul truck driver. With long stretches on the road away from his family, and with no one to keep him company but his loyal dog Roach, he has to brave most of his life completely alone. Then one day, just as he is passing the city of Oxenfurt, he turns on the radio and hears a voice.

People say this one makes them ache. It is melancholy and lonely but with a happy happy ending.

2) Hidden gem #2. Ok this actually IS hidden hidden. This Yengilla fic is three things that are tough in the witcher fandom. Femslash + rarepair + modern au.

At Least Now Our Demons Have Names. Teen and up.

This story begins the day two events upend her life: Fringilla discovers a dead body, and Yennefer Vengerberg swans back into her life.

It is a shortish (12,500) paranormal murder mystery. I use the modern AU setting to poke and prod at their rivalry and turn it to love.

I’ll tag a few folks but it’s no pressure

@jayofolympus @round--robin @jackironsides @hummingbee-o0o @gilligangoodfellow

[volkarine]

YENNEFER & FRINGILLA in The Witcher, Season 2 trailer

[kuwdora]

Witcher Commenting Event & Community Engagement

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this post that @jackironsides reblogged a few days ago about the lack of engagement with fanworks.

Comments are great. Commenting can be hard (more on that later) but receiving them is great, right? We want to support each other as a community and continue to squee about our blorbos and meow meows together.

(nostalgia time) I come from the old livejournal days where it was usual to see conversations happening in comments for days or weeks on end, even on short fics. People writing ship manifestos, fannish newsletters, community recommendations and commenting on those too. People reccing fic and meta. Things just were a little easier to find and engage with. Things didn't get so lost in tags or in a discord server you didn't know exists.

I have been thinking about the ways we could be social and connect to each other again and comment more. I love the Witcher Flashfic discord server because there are “Live readings” that groups of people perform on your fic while your story is under anon for the week. It’s incredibly fun to both be the author watching this anonymously while people READ YOUR STORY IN REAL TIME (or during a backread). And it is SO MUCH FUN fun to read a story together and comment WITH PEOPLE. Riffing off your squee and comments about the style, the plot, the characters in a fic. It’s like a book club! It’s so much fun.

A DREAM:

So I got to thinking. What if we tried something something similar to discover, read, and comment on fanworks TOGETHER? I have this dream:

A Comment Crawl, a la pub crawl. Except instead of pubs, we are visiting fics and art and vids and everything else and leaving comments on it together. (Fanwork Crawl doesn’t roll off the tongue the same way, okay…!). Target all kinds of fanworks: fic with no comments, few comments or are older than 6 months. Fanart that only has reblogs but no one ever told the artist what they like about the piece, not even in tags. Etc. etc.

We could put up a list of fanworks that are recced/nominated based on a theme and give people that window of time to read and compose a comment. Then we go and drop our comments on the AO3, tumblr post/etc during a designated window of time. Build off each other’s squee in the comments like I KNOW we do in discord. Let the creators see our avalanche of love and squee together.

Commenting can be hard and stressful when you don’t know what to say or think or what the creator is looking for.

Maybe you don’t know how to comment on a fanwork you’re unfamiliar with because you’re not an artist or a vidder or cosplayer or don’t know how to show an author how much you enjoyed the story.

This can be taught! There’s even work that @longlivefeedback has done in 2018 where they created a COMMENT BUILDER TEMPLATE that we can modify for Witcher related squee. For your personalized squee. Remove that inhibition and hurdle to comment and show love for the things that you spend all that time reading, reblogging and dropping links in discord.

We can learn from writers and artists how any scrap of feedback is going to mean the WORLD to them. And we can learn how to make more technical comments on things, too!

I have created a survey to gauge interest in A Comment Crawl for Witcher fandom. Please fill it out here if this sounds like something you would like to participate in or help organizing. I would really love help on this if it’s something people want to try!!

SURVEY HERE

I also have a ton of ideas about how create engagement through writing recs lists and creating fannish teams to go on treasure hunts to go together and look for fanart, fic, fandom-inspired jewelry, gifsets/etc based on a theme and then write a recs list to the public community. Link/tag the creators so they know how much their work is being loved on by other people!!

Is this reccing thing something that sounds like it might be fun for you to participate in?? @fancakeofficial is a pan-fannish reccing community that sort of inspired me in my thinking in how great it would be to have more recs in Witcher fandom in a more centralized way. They have a presence on tumblr, twitter and dreamwidth and people have been submitting themed recs for years and it's definitely a community I go to when I am looking to see what other people liked and to find something new. And sometimes my stuff gets recced a decade after I made it! It's fucking WILD and amazing feeling!! I would love to see something like this for Witcher fandom if possible..

Truly, recs are like... comments and kudos turbocharged because someone went out of their way to tell other people why your fanwork is great and get more eyes and squee on it!!

There is so much excellent rare pair fic out there in Witcher fandom. There’s amazing character-driven stories and hidden gems in the juggernaut pairings. There’s some fucking incredible femslash out there, omfgggg. So many of these stories get lost amidst the volume of fanworks and don't get comments or squee and it's can be so lonely. There is SO MUCH INCREDIBLE ART AND VIDS AND COSPLAY and gosh, so much amazing creativity out there.

*takes a deep breath*

So yeah, I would like to try to figure out a way to bring people together and comment together and squee together that can happen more outside of discord where the creators can see, squee and even participate with us!!

Anyway. This is very rambly and I am probably forgetting a million details because my brain has been on fire because of 10,000 other things. BUT I am putting it out there!! Hoping some folks would like to hear me out and try something like this.

Signal boosting is greatly appreciated!! If we build it, will you come??? Leave me your details in the survey! Let me know what you think!!

P.S. If you are a rare pair writer there is another round of @witcherrarepaircommentexchange will be open for nominations again in November so PLEASE be sure to check that out!

Tagging people that I know have many more followers than I do who might have followers who could be interested...

@fangirleaconmigo @jackironsides @limerental @ghostinthelibrarywrites @bomberqueen17 @brighteyedjill @sargassostories

[lambden]

Hellpppp I was going thru screenshots the other day to find a reference for something and. Look at the difference. i’m so emotional looking at these i love them so much

[cycian]

The Witcher WLW Completed Fics Masterlist

Hello there! Here is a complete list of my finished fics for the Witcher Ladies! 

Doors Open Like Arms

13,489 words, 3 chapters

Tissaia De Vries/ Margarita Laux-Antille

Margarita receives the news that Tissaia de Vries, her love, is no more. Those who have known her, loved her or opposed her all gather in Aretuza to bid farewell to the former Rectoress and witness the end of an era.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38484541

Bloom Once A Year

6,223 words, one-shot

Essi Daven/Yennefer Of Vengerberg

Yennefer of Vengerberg hates balls, but is forced by her status to attend them. Essi Daven 'Little-Eye', tagged along with her friend and rival Jaskier to perform in Aretuza. Worlds and perspective collide as an unlikely love at first sight blooms between the bard and the enchantress.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38547426

One More Night Of You

2.500 words, one-shot

Triss Merigold/ Keira Metz

Triss and Keira get drunk beyond recognition at the Thanedd Ball. In a drunken stupor, Keira reveals more than she intended but not enough to get Triss to stay.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40017807

The Great Lodge

55,980 words, 8 chapters

Yennefer Of Vengerberg/ Fringilla Vigo; Philippa Eilhart/Triss Merigold; Sabrina Glevissig/ Francesca Findabair/ Ida Emean Aep Sivney 

The Lodge of sorceresses faces its first threat: the Church of the Eternal Fire is gaining traction in the Northern Kingdoms. The sorceresses put aside their differences to work together and overcome their common enemy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38914680

I Wanted Love But I’ll Settle For Lust

9,498 words, 2 chapters

Margarita Laux-Antille/Tissaia De Vries, Margarita Laux-Antille/Everyone (she’s going through it)

’But am I not more entertaining?’’ Margarita smirked, used to their little games. The Rectoress puffed, smoke coming out of her nostril out of their own volition. A small smile, hidden behind rich wood and tobacco.

To have that pipe between her teeth, to have her lips where hers had been, to smell her, to smell like her, to be close to her. Anything that she could grasp, she would take, drag it out of that thick curtain of nicotine.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40244004

Rebirth

54,191 words, 9 chapters

Tissaia De Vries/Margarita Laux-Antille; Triss Merigold/ Philippa Eilhart;Sabrina Glevissig/Elves 

They came to Aretuza plague-ridden, beaten and diseased. They were reborn in the great halls, under the watchful eyes and caring hands of Tissaia De Vries. They left as enchantresses that shaped the Continent.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40544625

[limerental]

I really liked grain of truth so I'm rewatching my least favorite episode first (kaer morhen) the only good things about this episode are a) yengilla b) kim bodnia