#Dijkstra

[greenapplespider]

(Click for best quality) part 1/?

Fan comic inspired by @deadcuntry fic And the Devil Makes Three, give their fic a read it’s great. This is part of a larger series I’m doing where I make little comics inspired or based off Witcher fanfics ;p

[mametupa]

[jagalart]

The Diplomat

Icon for the great @eredins-a-king-aint-he <3

[gleamingsilence]

Gwent: Dandelion 's Journey (featuring Sigismund Dijkstra)

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

Now for something I normally do not post for a Thirsty Thursday!

Here is Sigi "Dijkstra" Reuven!

My PS5 photo edited shot.

[northernolddragon]

"Need any help? Can I play the violin for you, fetch some flowers or bonbons? I adore love stories. Especially the ones that end happily ever after."

[icpe]

Witcher (season 3), doodles 2

[casada-com-clown]

I really enjoyed to do this render about my big boy Dijkstra, so I'm here sharing it with you.

Full render on my Twitter.

[rondinella]

GIRLLLL

Would you look at this INSANE roasting session???

[fassophy]

graham mctavish in the witcher

[konstarnacja]

Popularne na dworze króla Vizimira powiedzonko głosiło, że jeśli Dijkstra twierdzi, że jest południe, a dookoła panują nieprzebite ciemności, należy zacząć niepokoić się o losy słońca.

Andrzej Sapkowski „Krew elfów”

[greenapplespider]

Communing With Nature:

An examination of Isengrim and Dijkstra meeting at the Elskerdeg Pass and eventual romance as they travel to Zerrikania. From Isengrim POV. Pairing Isengrim/Dijkstra. 771 words. Reference to canon typical violence, otherwise no warning for the following text.

WIP/excerpt is from the fanfic series I’m writing found here, note that this can be read as a stand alone, it will be published in full on ao3 soon—the only context needed is that Isengrim and Iorveth escaped execution together, shared a night of comfort, and that Isengrim has some unrequited love towards Iorveth.

𓃦𓃦𓃦𓃦𓃦

Isengrim should have been more surprised to come across the hulking silhouette limping eastward. Perhaps just another weary traveler, but when the man turned, his bald head and piercing eyes unmistakable even in the dim light, Isengrim hid his shock. Sigismund Dijkstra—Redania’s fallen spymaster. 

The audacity of fate was almost laughable. Dijkstra had greeted him as if they both didn’t know perfectly well who the other was. Introducing himself as Sigi Reuven. 

Ha—

Isengrim had been so utterly nonplussed at the boldness of choosing an alias which was merely a nickname to Sigismund; that when Sigi had asked him his own name, in turn, Isengrim had just responded with his actual name. Kicking himself as he immediately tagged on Wolf, prefacing it as his first name. 

Yes, greetings dh’oine. His name was Isengrim, Wolf Isengrim—not to be confused with that other Isengrim—infamous former Scoia’teal leader and wanted war criminal who just happened to possess the same name, a remarkably similar facial scar, and features to his own.

He realized the moment it left his mouth that he’d essentially named himself ‘Wolf Wolf.’ The dh’oine probably thought he was a fucking imbecile but Sigi had just stared at him, stone faced, before pulling in a deep breath of air and responding with well met Wolf. Giving the elf a pointed look as he said it. 

Dijkstra definitely thought he was a fucking imbecile. 

Oh well. It didn’t particularly matter, he could easily kill the dh’oine. And who was Sigi to tell, considering his own wanted state. 

Encountering a second dh’oine, had been another surprise Isengrim found himself not caring about. The Elskerdeg Pass stretched before the campfire, its jagged peaks cloaked in shadow, the air sharp with chill. The man, who called himself Boreas Mun, offered a fleeting reprieve, the warmth of the blaze drawing Isengrim towards it. The closeness of other war-weary people had been far more of a comfort then he was expecting. But Isengrim had been possessed by an all encompassing sadness since he and Iorveth had parted ways a few weeks prior. 

The memories of his men, hung and discarded, still loomed heavy over the elf—body’s thrown like waste into the ravine, tore apart by corpse eaters; forgotten and rite-less—a brutal little compromise Nilfguaard had offered up to appease the northern Kings, as to not reject Francesca being gifted her duchy. 

He and Sigi had talked that night, dancing around the politics of it all, each of them pointedly ignoring the reality of who they really were. Isengrim supposed “were” was the most important aspect of it. They once were Sigismund Dijkstra and Isengrim Faoiltiarna but now they were just worn refugees, betrayed by their respective allies and peoples—unable to enjoy the fruits of a tentative peace they had both, in their own ways, worked to achieve. 

The tired slump of the human's shoulders sent a sympathetic pang of exhaustion through the elf. 

The last surprise of the evening was realizing he rather enjoyed talking with Sigi. In another life, Isengrim could have seen himself becoming friends with this jaded man. Quietly mulling over the fact that he and Redania’s former spymaster had a remarkably similar view of how the world worked. 

A kindred soul—on the precipice of the desert sands—how hilarious. And a human no less. 

Isengrim looked at the man and Sigi’s dark eyes met his, heavy with a weariness that mirrored his own. The man spoke of his plans to venture over the desert, his voice a low rumble over the crackling fire that nearly lulled Isengrim into a warm doze. As they turned in for the night he looked at the dh’oine, a face that rivaled his in exhaustion, and said before us lies the Elskerdeg Pass and beyond that, Zerrikania and the Harland. Before us lies a long and dangerous road. If we are to walk it together, let us put aside our mistrust.

When Reuven nodded in agreement Isengrim knew it was Dijkstra whom he was speaking to, at that moment, rather than Sigi. The human clasped his hand, soft fingers brushing Isengrim’s calloused palm just a moment too long, a silent acknowledgment of the road ahead.

Elskerdeg meant I love you in some long forgotten tongue, a factoid Isengrim forgot where he learned. But the irony of forming a mutually beneficial alliance, with this man, in such a location as this, was not lost on the elf. 

The memory of Iorveth’s lips, desperate and fleeting, in that elven ruin, haunted Isengrim as the gentle huff of breath from the other two men lulled him to sleep. 

𓃦𓃦𓃦𓃦𓃦

Image credit: Photo by Mehmet Altıntaş from Pexels

[mametupa]

[jagalart]

Day 10: Sweet William

This one is for the super kind @eredins-a-king-aint-he , thank you so much for the opportunity to draw Dijkstra again! Gosh, I missed this guy and universe, he's still one of my absolute faves. <3

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Omg ! I am in love with these stills !

An arrow !?

I love Phillipa's outfits already!

Beautiful shot of the witcher 🥰

And smiles around the table !!

There is lot of stuff and spoilers in this article so read it at you own discretion.

[emma-ofnormandy]

The Witcher really said ‘we know what they want and it’s DILFS’. And they’re right.