#sansretour

[mizua]

#the witcher #the witcher 3: wild hunt - blood and wine #the banks of the sansretour #piotr musiał #the witcher 3 #2016 #music #ost #soundtrack

[witcheringways]

Late Night on the Sansretour

{ The Witcher 3: Next Gen }

#the witcher 3 #the witcher 3: wild hunt #the witcher 3 next gen #wiedźmin #game photography #tw3 screenshots #tw3 edit #toussaint #beauclair

[hanzajesthanza]

katabasis —

A going or marching down or back; (mythology, literature) A mytheme or trope in which the hero embarks on a journey to the underworld.

Fic Summary: Emiel Regis departs from Beauclair one midnight, in pursuit of conversation and the promise of discovering those who would be capable of truly understanding him. It takes him on a journey downwards, in which he experiences several significant revelations. A descent. And a search for kinship. Culminating in total catharsis.

This is a short story, a bit comedic, a jeu d'esprit which demanded itself to be written, functioning as a brief character study for Regis.

Featuring:

Dynamics of Geralt's hanza and various detailed accounts about their stay in Beauclair.

Vampire headcanons.

Some additions to the lore of the Sansretour valley.

Generally a humorous tone, with some emotional bits.

And of course, the overwhelming power of friendship.

Rating & Word Count: T / 16,947 words / 10 chapters

[Read on AO3]

#soooo i finished this crazy little thing :D #the fic being funny and silly but having these dramatic ass aesthetics. well. that is regis' influence ig #the witcher books #emiel regis #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #geregis #it's very mild and friendly geregis. blink and you'll miss it #c: regis #my fic #f: a hansa's a hansa #'he doesnt even turn into a bat in this why include the pic of lucifer's wings' because it's cool asf and symbolic

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Thirsty Thursday: Emhyr

What a view!

Beating the chill by bathing in the warm and pristine waters of the Sansretour.

Photo shot by picy paparazzi @eycsnow666 and my photoshop edits.

#emhyr var emreis #emhyr #nilfgaard #witcher 3 #the witcher 3 #thirsty thursday #thirstday #the witcher #witcher #witcher 3 wild hunt #photoshop #TLylaedits/arts

[nodensart]

Meet the exotic sea beauty! Princess Alaeth Amaquelin of Alonen'Thoril, the Guiding Light of the Sansretour Isles! Art raffle prize. Fantasy OC, WoW.

#mermaid #dnd oc #dnd #warcraft art #art #digital art #fantasy art #fantasy #magical girl #demon girl #character art #original character #original art #artwork #nodensart #mermaid art #neon lights #neon art

[witcherwheeloftheyear]

Molanna

@astaldis (I borrowed your own wrapup post for this, I hope you don't mind)

Imbolc February 2nd: The Glade

On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night? Friendship (Words: 660; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ostara March 20th: Where the Tulips Grow

Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri learn that Jaskier has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that hint at a kidnapping. Yennefer leaves Geralt with Ciri and goes to save the bard. But not all goes as planned. The hero becomes the damsel in distress and Jaskier has to save the day. Romance/Yenskier (Words: 23,951; Chapters: 9/9, )

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Beltane May 1st: Belleteyn

Yennefer has a beautiful May Night with her lover. Who the lover is? I had one specific Witcher character in mind when I wrote the fic, but you might fancy a different pairing. So, feel free to decide yourself whoever works best for you, Yennefer/Geralt, Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Istredd, Yennefer/Cahir, Yennefer/crossover character, Yennefer/You, ... loads of possibilities! Romance/Smut (Words: 3,469; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Litha June 21st: A Night to Remember

It's Litha, the longest day of the year, and Geralt is throwing a garden party at his newly acquired estate, Corvo Bianco, the old vineyard in the Sansretour Valley. Milva cannot dance, but Cahir is a good teacher. The delicious wine and Jaskier's newest song also help. And then there are Angoulême's Hansa Games and Regis's hot hooch ... Friendship/Romance/Humour (Words: 4,160; Chapters: 2/2)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lammas August 1st: Of Bairns and Banes

It is a beautiful night, fair summer weather, the air balmy, the sky clear and sprinkled with stars. The perfect night for the village’s traditional Lammas celebrations, the feast of first fruits. However, unlike in the neighbouring villages and the years past, there are no bonfires here today. No corn dolls to be burned and bulls or horses to be sacrificed as an offering to the gods. No ritual dances or athletic competitions are held or blueberry loaves baked in the village bake house. This year there is no matchmaking and rolling about in the hay. For the village is in mourning, the villagers terrified. And very much in need of a Witcher. Lucky for them, one has just arrived.

This is the story of Cahir’s first solo monster hunt. Spooky Adventure (Words: 2,977; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mabon September 22nd: Her Idea of Fun

“Finished!” Angoulême exclaims and starts to dance circles around the victim of her wager. “I bet nobody’d take him for a Nilfgaardian now!” she adds with a raucous cackle that reminds strongly of a goose on fisstech …

Cahir loses a bet and Angoulême is having fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 444; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Samhain November 1st: The Present

It is the evening of the last day of October, Samhain, a magical night where the gates between worlds are wide open for those who can travel through space and time. Ciri can, and she has a surprise for her boyfriend Cahir, a very nice surprise. Romance/Cahiri (Words: 1,656; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yule December 21st: Jaskier's Jolly Yule Jumble

Another festive event is coming up in Toussaint and Jaskier has the perfect idea for how to celebrate it with his Hansa. He only needs to convince Geralt and the others that his idea for their Yule party will be fun, lots of fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 8,681; Chapters: 4/4)

#wwoty 2023 #wwoty creator spotlight #wwoty 2023 creator spotlight #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #witcher #witcher fanfiction #molanna #astaldis

[wolfgeralt]

The White Rose

Pairing: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt of Rivia

Summary: Geralt notices an unfamiliar flower growing in Corvo Bianco's greenhouse.

Word count: 1,389 Rating: T Notes: Another short fic inspired by @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingommer-bingo and @continentcakeshopntcakeshop's Valentine's Rarepair Bingo Fulfilling the prompts: "Reminds me of you" and "Touching their lips/mouth because they’re so soft".

Enormous thanks to @antimonyschnuckk and @witch-and-her-witcher for the wonderful job beta reading these works!

Link to AO3 in the title, or continued below.

The greenhouse stood elevated high in the grounds of Corvo Bianco, a perfect suntrap where herbs and flowers which drank in the sun greedily could thrive. The occasional fat, meandering bumblebee or the flamboyant flickering of vibrant butterfly wings graced each flower head often. As the wind coursed down through the Sansretour Valley and rose to Corvo Bianco as a gentle breeze, it alleviated the worst of the sticky heat and caused the greenery to rustle where it grew up in thick bunches, tickling at the ostentatious flower heads.

Fortunately, the lime cement repair had been completed during the renovations earlier in the year, the brickwork perfectly stable once more thanks to Barnabas-Basil, and supporting itself as the plants grew taller, stronger. Which was especially lucky as much of one wall had something rambling and crawling its way upward. The plant was leafy and green overall, thorn-prickled, but topped with heavily scented, white flower heads.

Geralt reached out for one of the mysterious flowers, turned its white petals towards him, nose wrinkling as he sniffed at the air to inspect it. He was unfamiliar with it, but he had his suspicions by its natural perfume and barbs alone.

“It’s a rose, love,” drawled Emhyr, confirming Geralt’s unspoken thoughts and smoothing the frown from his brow.

The former emperor had appeared framed underneath one of the brick arches, lazily gliding through in a lightweight black robe with fine, golden embroidery. The garment had slipped open wider across Emhyr’s bare chest, plunging generously deep and wide, while it was tied tightly at his waist. The whole effect was enough to pull Geralt’s attention entirely away from the garden, his mind turning towards better plans for his afternoon.

“Well, hello there,” Geralt purred, grinning as he reached for Emhyr’s hips. They greeted one another with a short kiss, kept brief by Emhyr, even as Geralt tried to chase more. Emhyr brushed him off, despite each hand being full with a green-tinted glass, filled with a generous portion of their own Sepremento.

“Here.” Emhyr pressed one glass into Geralt’s hand and drank a mouthful of his own as he stepped out of his husband’s grasp and strolled towards the next rosebush climbing the brickwork.

Geralt lamented a lost opportunity but was painfully aware how Emhyr enjoyed working him up throughout the day in small increments until he was near desperate for his partner. Truthfully, Emhyr required very little effort to stir him. Geralt took a deep swig of wine and followed Emhyr back to the roses.

“Strangest rose I’ve ever seen.” Geralt frowned, dropping his head to watch as Emhyr cupped one, leant in close to breathe in its heady scent. It was muskier to Geralt’s nose, something darker about it, but it was rose-adjacent.

“These roses grow exclusively in Toussaint where the soil is fertile enough. That is usually where vineyards have already been established.” Emhyr made a loose gesture towards the landscape beyond. “The groundwater in this spot must be adequate.” He then waved towards the stream which cut through the estate, beyond view but its trickling and sloshing audible to them both.

“They have a preference for a combination of sun and shade,” Emhyr explained as he pressed a palm to the brickwork, which faced away from the sun at its height, assessing his calculations were correct. Geralt watched Emhyr’s actions with a small smile, sensing his husband’s broad gestures were influenced by him having had a glass of wine already.

“They are exceptionally rare and sought after. The Duchess herself desired them at her wedding, but not a single bloom could be found that year. She was furious.” His mouth twitched up at the corner in a harmlessly wicked way which Geralt found most attractive on him.

Geralt hummed, interested but increasingly less so in the roses. He took a swig of their wine, curling his tongue around the taste of tart, spiced fruit, all the while wishing he was tasting it on Emhyr’s tongue instead.

Despite his mind moving from the garden, Geralt watched as Emhyr’s long fingers slipped behind the head of one rose to cup it oh so delicately. He held the rose there a long moment, admiring it silently, while Geralt gazed at the gentleness on the former emperor’s face in wonder. He realised how much younger and peaceful Emhyr looked for having moved to Toussaint, how open and vulnerable he looked in his slightly creased silk gown, with that hint of a smile on his lips, and the slow sigh of satisfaction he found in a rose.

Geralt swallowed and took a few steps closer, sliding a hand across the small of Emhyr’s back, wanting to be in contact with him as if to prove the moment was real.

How he had grown to love Emhyr so completely was dizzying.

“I thought you would know your roses. Your knowledge on flora is impeccable- or so I thought.” Emhyr turned and pushed his wineglass into Geralt’s hand.

With that, Emhyr crouched down, with a flash of a bare thigh to stir Geralt’s indecent thoughts again. Unfortunately for Geralt, Emhyr was merely retrieving the short knife tucked into the witcher’s boot. Emhyr spun as he stood up and clipped one rose from the bush with a swift flick of the knife.

“This particular rose,” he spun the stem between his fingers, showing the beautiful, delicate petals off to him. “Reminds me of you, actually.”

Geralt stared at his husband, dumbfounded, but a smile spread across his face.

“Snow white, heart of gold, beautiful, surprisingly sensitive… and a pleasantly musky scent I rather enjoy on myself.” Emhyr drew Geralt’s attention back down to the rose, spinning it on its stem between nimble fingertips.

A simple structure of fewer, wider petals, unlike the frilly roses Geralt was accustomed to seeing surrounded a warm yellow sun at its heart. It looked fragile and too pretty to be compared to a witcher, and Geralt felt flustered at the comparison. He gulped at his wine, feeling hot under Emhyr’s intense, amber gaze.

“Not sure about the heart of gold. Or ‘beautiful’.” Geralt made a face.

“Nonsense. I won’t have you bad mouth my husband,” Emhyr scolded him playfully, taking the rose and drawing the silky petals featherlight across Geralt’s lips agonisingly gently, making them tingle pleasantly. “You are so… very… beautiful.”

Emhyr dragged the rose downward to slip from Geralt’s lips. With a lopsided, tipsy sort of smile, Emhyr tucked the flower into Geralt’s hair just above his ear. Content with the result, Emhyr skimmed his fingertips and thumb fleetingly over Geralt’s already sensitive lips, leaving him aching for another kiss, which he leant closer in hope of.

“Emhyr,” he rumbled, but met the barest resistance of Emhyr holding his face in one hand, catching his attention right before Geralt tipped the glasses and almost spilt their wine on the ground. His near bumble made Emhyr grin in success for but a moment.

“I’m going to read my book on the porch and have another glass of wine. Come find me once you’ve finished gardening,” Emhyr instructed as he took back his glass, replacing it with the borrowed knife from Geralt’s boot. “And cut me a few roses for that antique vase we bought from Borsodi, will you, dear?”

“You could read later,” Geralt suggested in vain, while shoving the knife back into its sheath in his boot.

“I would prefer to finish reading, then focus my undivided attention on you.”

A hand placed to Geralt’s chest, Emhyr leant close so they could share a languid, smouldering kiss, broken when Emhyr had the indecency to smirk as he pulled away. Geralt kept one arm curled around Emhyr for a moment, hand gliding over silk to feel every perfect groove of his lover’s strong figure.

“White rose petals won’t stain the bedsheets like red roses do.” Emhyr patted Geralt on the chest and then breezed past him, calling out as he went: “Just a thought.”

Which meant Emhyr was expecting rose petals, candlelight, and seduction.

Geralt was more than up for the task. He watched Emhyr gliding back towards the house longingly until he was out of sight. Throwing back the remaining wine in his glass to fuel him on, Geralt rolled up his sleeves and set about picking roses.

#emralt #emhyralt #geralt x emhyr #emhyr x geralt #the witcher fanfiction #mine

[rolangf]

for sibyl🤍: 2, 8, 21

2: what were they like as a child? were they quiet and reserved, outgoing, or a bit of both?

a bit of both! she did have quite a lot of childlike whimsy for magic and sorcery and was extremely eager to study it in some capacity, so if she was engaged in conversation as a child that wasn’t about magic, or like, playing hide and seek, she was quiet and reserved.

8: what will always make them smile? what will always make them cry?

she actually smiles a lot when she’s just observing toussaint in all of its glory, whether it’s beauclair against the sunset or the sansretour valley vineyards. she feels like god up there in her tower but you didn’t hear that from me.

she doesn’t cry a whole bunch but something that WILL make her cry is thinking abt her childhood. it takes some mulling and contemplating to get her there but if she’s feeling extra spicy and her thoughts drift to how she got where she is, she can’t help but shed some tears in mourning of what she was made into.

21: what are they most afraid of? what made them fear this?

getting this out of her is like pulling teeth— by design, of course— but she’s afraid of being completely unknowable forever. she can’t help but feel completely artificial as a person, so she’s slipped herself into being an unknown concept rather than a person. and she wishes it was easier for her to not be that but she’s trying :(

it just occurred to her one day that she will outlive most people that she would ever come to cherish and the thought that she would essentially have to start over the process of Being a Person and Having a Personality and opening up to someone else just. was not ideal. she might have had a panic attack abt it. reports unconfirmed.

#give my girl a break #i say as i made her this way #this is my design #asks #ariana #oc: sibyl delauvéy #smacks the top of her head this baby can fit so much imposter syndrome in her

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Fanfiction writer Eskel who started writing as a way to process his desire to get absolutely wrecked by the muscular, sweaty men around him, but grew into a Literal Bear Man Mountain himself and believed he could never have what he wanted because of Internalised Bullshittery, so kept filling up whole journals and hiding them in a lockbox by the lake to deal with the "sordid nature" of his desires.

Fast forward forty-ish years, a whole gods-damned sacking and depression-induced writer's block that has left it untouched, the secret smut stash is discovered by Lambert while he's cutting down trees for his latest boat. He spends a pleasant afternoon on the shore with his dick in one hand and a bottle of Sansretour Pinot Noir or a journal in the other, before returning with his discovery to gloat at the others.

The words, "You reprobates will never guess what I dug up," have barely left Lambert's mouth before he sees all the colour drain from Eskel's face.

Oh. Oh-ho.

#witcher eskel #internalised homophobia cw #ig #kinda #still waters run deep Eskel is my favourite Eskel

[silentmoonbutterfly]

night Sansretour

#the witcher #tw3 #Dettlaff #dettlaff van der eretein #higher vampire #my story #dettlaff x inaella #married couple #beauclair #night #my screenshots

[otterintheflightdeck]

Gerveth snippet

A snippet from The Plague of The Elves 2: Electric Boogaloo (working title).

I don’t have any real intention of writing this anytime soon (still in Geralt/Morvran hell and work is way too stressful), but! I like this bit from one of the first scenes.

***

"Come lie with me," Iorveth said, stepping back.

Geralt's hands fell from his sides, but he hesitated, shifting his weight. "Brought food." He gestured behind himself, indicating some spot beyond the edge of the camp where he'd likely left his horse. Iorveth nodded and waved him off.

He was expecting a handful of potatoes, or a loaf of Marlene's bread, perhaps, but Geralt came back with what had to be a small deer's worth of meat wrapped in wax paper, gathered into a precarious pile in his arm, and a large burlap sack dangling from his other hand. He put it all down by the fire, next to Eluned and Nia, with a polite "may our meeting bring prosperity to both our houses" -- a greeting so antiquated it might as well have come out of an elven book of fairy tales. Iorveth smiled at the rare misstep, warmth filling his chest even as both women snickered at him. "He means he's glad to meet you."

"Uh. Yeah."

"Likewise, Gwynbleidd," Eluned replied before turning to him, mirth dancing in her eyes alongside the flickering flames. "Take the tent."

Iorveth shook his head at the offer -- there was too little time, had he even had the energy to do anything other than sleep -- and went to his bedroll, a short distance away from the fire. Geralt followed.

"Thank you for the food," Nia called out. Then she added, nearly choking on repressed laughter, "May Dana Méadbh return these offerings to you tenfold."

Geralt frowned, apparently realizing he was being teased, but did not bother to reply. Iorveth toed off his worn boots and crawled his way under his wool blanket and the gambeson he'd spread over it for additional warmth, settling on his side at one edge of the thin bedding. Geralt understood his silent request and soon he was at his back, one arm around him. He'd taken off his jerkin, and if Iorveth was very still, he thought he could feel his heartbeat through the few layers of cloth that remained between them, strong and steady, slower than a normal man's. He sighed into the wolf pelt he'd rolled into a makeshift pillow and let his eye slip closed.

Geralt nuzzled his way to the back of his neck, the hard ridge of his nose nudging at his headscarf. Finally he reached up and eased it off his head, and Iorveth let him. From any other lover, it would've felt like an empty gesture, a forced show of insouciance toward his scars, but Geralt was simply after the simple, animalistic pleasure of smelling him; he rubbed his face against the back of Iorveth's head, sighing, then curled even closer, wedging his nose behind Iorveth's ear.

"Dog," Iorveth said, fond.

"Mm. Missed you."

Geralt's warmth was leeching into him, easing the soreness that lingered in his limbs from too many days in the saddle, and Geralt's chest and thighs felt pleasantly solid against him -- a reminder that he could allow himself to let his guard down. There were few threats here that a witcher wouldn't be able to neutralize without even his archers' help, and so for the first time in months, Iorveth let himself think of the future rather than his and his group's immediate survival.

He'd stayed at Corvo Bianco but for a short time, yet the brilliant blue of Toussaint's sky, the sweet smell of vines heavy with plump grapes, and the stark, broken silhouettes of the ruins that dotted the landscape had sunk under his skin like so many tattoos, and the trek down the mountains and into Sansretour Valley, this time, had felt much like a homecoming. He wondered what the vineyard would look like when he finally reached it again, how beautiful the olive trees would be in full bloom, and whether Yennefer had been able to talk Geralt into renovating the house after all. He thought of the rich taste of Marlene's stews and of what she would be adding to them at this time of the year -- spring leeks, perhaps, or asparagus.

Geralt gently tugged at the hem of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, and slid his hand under it. The slow strokes of calloused fingertips over his ribs drew Iorveth from his thoughts, and soon he realized what Geralt was looking for. "There's no scar. Surely you weren't doubting Yennefer's abilities."

He felt the curl of Geralt's smile against his skin, his stubble tickling his ear. "'Course not." His hand stilled, splayed comfortably on Iorveth's stomach, and Iorveth covered it with one of his own.

"How is she?"

"Good. Bored, though. Back to reading romance novels. She'll be happy to see you. Marlene, too." He spoke on in a murmured monotone, about Marlene and Barnabas-Basil and something about wine, and sleep pulled at the edges of Iorveth's consciousness, blurring the words into a comforting, meaningless buzz. Geralt must have felt it, or smelled it, or heard his breathing change; he caught Iorveth's fingers between his and squeezed them lightly. "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up at midnight."

#gerveth #iorveth #one day i'm just going to write 839439 pages about geralt speaking/learning elvish

[astaldis]

My Witcher Wheel of the Year 2023 Fics

Thank you so much for creating this fun event and the inspiring prompts, @witcherwheeloftheyear 😘

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Imbolc February 2nd: The Glade

On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night? Friendship (Words: 660; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ostara March 20th: Where the Tulips Grow

Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri learn that Jaskier has gone missing under suspicious circumstances. Circumstances that hint at a kidnapping. Yennefer leaves Geralt with Ciri and goes to save the bard. But not all goes as planned. The hero becomes the damsel in distress and Jaskier has to save the day. Romance/Yenskier (Words: 23,951; Chapters: 9/9, )

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Beltane May 1st: Belleteyn

Yennefer has a beautiful May Night with her lover. Who the lover is? I had one specific Witcher character in mind when I wrote the fic, but you might fancy a different pairing. So, feel free to decide yourself whoever works best for you, Yennefer/Geralt, Yennefer/Jaskier, Yennefer/Istredd, Yennefer/Cahir, Yennefer/crossover character, Yennefer/You, ... loads of possibilities! Romance/Smut (Words: 3,469; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Litha June 21st: A Night to Remember

It's Litha, the longest day of the year, and Geralt is throwing a garden party at his newly acquired estate, Corvo Bianco, the old vineyard in the Sansretour Valley. Milva cannot dance, but Cahir is a good teacher. The delicious wine and Jaskier's newest song also help. And then there are Angoulême's Hansa Games and Regis's hot hooch ... Friendship/Romance/Humour (Words: 4,160; Chapters: 2/2)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lammas August 1st: Of Bairns and Banes

It is a beautiful night, fair summer weather, the air balmy, the sky clear and sprinkled with stars. The perfect night for the village’s traditional Lammas celebrations, the feast of first fruits. However, unlike in the neighbouring villages and the years past, there are no bonfires here today. No corn dolls to be burned and bulls or horses to be sacrificed as an offering to the gods. No ritual dances or athletic competitions are held or blueberry loaves baked in the village bake house. This year there is no matchmaking and rolling about in the hay. For the village is in mourning, the villagers terrified. And very much in need of a Witcher. Lucky for them, one has just arrived.

This is the story of Cahir’s first solo monster hunt. Spooky Adventure (Words: 2,977; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mabon September 22nd: Her Idea of Fun

“Finished!” Angoulême exclaims and starts to dance circles around the victim of her wager. “I bet nobody’d take him for a Nilfgaardian now!” she adds with a raucous cackle that reminds strongly of a goose on fisstech …

Cahir loses a bet and Angoulême is having fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 444; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Samhain November 1st: The Present

It is the evening of the last day of October, Samhain, a magical night where the gates between worlds are wide open for those who can travel through space and time. Ciri can, and she has a surprise for her boyfriend Cahir, a very nice surprise. Romance/Cahiri (Words: 1,656; Chapters: 1/1)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yule December 21st: Jaskier's Jolly Yule Jumble

Another festive event is coming up in Toussaint and Jaskier has the perfect idea for how to celebrate it with his Hansa. He only needs to convince Geralt and the others that his idea for their Yule party will be fun, lots of fun. Friendship/Humour (Words: 8,681; Chapters: 4/4)

#witcher wheel of the year #witcherwheeloftheyear #wwoty 2023 #witcher prompt event #witcher event #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher fanfiction #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #milva #emiel regis #cirilla #ciri #Angouleme #the hansa #the hanza #the witcher books

[witcheringways]

Sunset Over the Sansretour { The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Next Gen }

#tw3 screenshots #the witcher 3 #the witcher 3 next gen #wiedźmin #toussaint #beaucaire #game photography #sunset #blood and wine

[hanzajesthanza]

the aforementioned consistency of the trout lore—because i want to show how trout accompanied geralt’s company through their journey from brokilon to beauclair

baptism of fire, chapter 2: in the ribbon, outside of brokilon

baptism of fire, chapter 7: streams north of the jaruga

tower of the swallow, chapter 6: stream flowing into the sansretour, in the north case

(bonus regis, who also catches trout)

lady of the lake, chapter 3: beauclair in toussaint, caught from mountain lakes

#the witcher books #[dandelion voice] i see you know your fish #[regis voice] i know lots of things #book: baptism of fire #book: tower of the swallow #book: lady of the lake #excerpt #set: north case #set: beauclair #set: jaruga

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Thirsty Thursday: Emhyr var Emreis

Temperatures and tempers cooled in the waters of the Sansretour.

Old shot by ning and my ps edits.

#emhyr var emreis #emhyr #nilfgaard #thirsty thursday #thirstday #the witcher 3 #witcher 3 #witcher 3 wild hunt #the witcher #witcher #photoshop #TLylaedits/arts

[toussainttwins]

Examine (Nistana) Muffinchop's Muffinchops

Send “Examine!” and an item or person and I’ll write an RPG description of it/them.

Much has changed since that fateful year the barber-surgeon appeared in your life and settled like some exotic plant inside your heart, roots invisible but ever persistent. The taste of that time fed you with tender hope and bitter yearning in turns. But once you saw him again, your ears were full of the sound of his bloodflow and your gaze…ah!  Those gorgeous mutton-chops still made you swoon. How they underline the noble, astute, shape of his chin! How they seduced with the carefully chosen scents of anise, wormwood and a playful touch of cinnamon! How soft they are…were. There are grey streaks that were absent before, but you mind not. You want to say that it’s a very lovely addition, that your Muffinchops is moon-kissed now ( the only other rival for his attention that you can bear with a good grace - what a teasing opening line it would be! ) You yearn to hide your nose amidst one of them, as you used to, while you were watching the silvery waves of Sansretour together. Desperately. But all you can do is to put your palm against your own cheek, caressing only the past, fearful to step into the present. All the while missing that Emiel Regis mirrors your gesture.

#♥tails and needles (toussainttwins banter) #♥artistic endeavours (toussaint twins original art)