#barnabas basil

[northernolddragon]

The best majordomo Barnabas-Basil Foulty.

The ideal embodiment of the majordomo. With him Corvo Bianco will prosper, and amaze with the scope of his unpretentious master after his absence. And the walls and ears will not be saved if a very talkative guest appears. With him the wine will be intact, and the order in the estate will save the witcher from any thought about such an unusual way of life.

[finleycannotdraw]

sketchdump!!

[notsofriendlyfriendlyreminder]

*end of Blood and Wine*

BB: Mister Geralt, someone has came inside and they do not want to leave! I have tried everything!

Geralt: Who is it?

BB: She has not told me her name.

Geralt: wait... How does she smell like?

BB: What the fuck-?

[wheres-all-the-tea-shots]

[basketobread]

FIRST BATCH OF COMMISSIONS DONE!! Wanted to share them here ^_^ I'll open up 4 more slots soon... so keep an eye out if you're interested! 1- Aldiirn @mistercrowbar 2- Judith + Xan @ratscrap 3- Irene + Basil @robotquote & @lesbianfeydrautha 4- Barnabas @heinrix

[dukeofdogs]

Gwent: The Witcher Card Game | The cards that could’ve been 73/?

Barnabas Basil (Kamil Jadczak, Wight (TyphonArt)

Witch of Lynx Crag (Rina R), (Monika Oller)

[kueble]

Sweet on the Vine (Like Strawberry Wine)

Here is something that is only (slightly!) late for last year’s @witchersummercamp. Oops. My original artist backed out, and I managed to convince the amazing @mysticcoyoteart to work with me.  They created Jaskier’s look, which I fell in love with.  Please make sure to check out the art here.

Teen. Warnings: None. 2,000 words

Geralt/Jaskier

---

Retirement has turned out to be a little too relaxing, so Geralt hardly puts up a fight when Jaskier suggests they head into Beauclair for the Strawberry Festival.  Normally he’d do anything in his power to avoid a town full of drunken partygoers, but it turns out looking after a winery is a bit boring, especially since Barnabas-Basil does all the heavy lifting anyway.

Now, though?   Now he wonders what the fuck he was thinking.  The streets are packed with bodies, and the hot summer sun isn’t doing anyone any favors.   Geralt lets Jaskier lead him through the crowd, their fingers threaded together in an easy way that still makes his heart flutter, and leans in to inhale the sweet citrus scent of his lover’s perfume.  It calms something deep inside of him, and suddenly the crowd doesn’t seem so boisterous.

Jaskier - as always - is dressed to impress, not to blend in with the crowd.  Geralt remembers watching him flit about the tailor’s shop months ago, already looking for an outfit that would help him stand out.  He walked up to Geralt with a bolt of pink and strawberry printed fabric, his eyes bright and a pout already firmly in place, and Geralt knew they’d pay whatever the man asked for it.

Now he looks stunning, the petal pink fabric hanging off his curves in a dress that somehow manages to be both fitted and loose all at the same time. It’s hard not to get lost in the sharpness of Jaskier’s chest compared to the flowy fabric as it swishes around his heels.  Though they have nowhere pressing to be, so Geralt indulges himself and lets his eyes linger on his lover as he leads him through the growing crowds.

The city is one big colorful bustle, festival goers crammed into every nook and cranny.  They spend the morning darting between the vendor booths, Geralt tagging along after Jaskier like a lost puppy.  It’s hard to rein in the bard, and even more so when so many crafters have their best wares on display.  Jaskier flits between the stalls, his elegant fingers picking up one piece of jewelry after the other before bemoaning the fact that he can’t buy them all.

Geralt manages to distract him with a booth full of writing journals and doubles back to one of the jewelers.  The woman seems to expect his return and smiles before holding out the ring Jaskier had been fawning over.  Geralt manages to talk her down in price a bit, but his coin purse is still left much lighter.  But as he pictures the delicate silver band and its large opal resting on one of Jaskier’s fingers, he knows the purchase was worth it.

He sidles up next to Jaskier without missing a beat, and Jaskier appears to have been lost in the journals the entire time.  He holds up a couple of options - both eerily similar - so Geralt just points at the one on the right.  It seems to placate him, and Jaskier grants him a warm smile before turning to pay the vendor.

Once the noonday sun rises, the sound of Jaskier’s belly growling calls them both to lunch.  His cheeks are flushed pink - sheepish looks good on him - and Geralt just rolls his eyes before herding him towards the food tents.  They split a couple of chicken and venison meat pies, and even Geralt has to admit that the savory crust is the best he’s had in years.

—

“Oh, you have just got to try this, love,” Jaskier mumbles around a mouthful of berries.  The red juice trails down his chin, and there is a dab of clotted cream in the corner of his mouth, and Geralt can’t help leaning in to teasingly lick it away.  Jaskier jumps, squealing against Geralt, but he’s grinning when they pull apart,

“Tastes delightful,” Geralt says with a smirk.  Jaskier just snorts before dipping another strawberry into the cream and holding it up in front of him.  Geralt leans in and closes his mouth around the treat, eyes closing on their own as the sweetness bursts across his tongue.  He chews slowly, savoring the decadent taste of berry mixed with the sugary cream.

Never say Toussaint doesn’t know how to throw a festival.

“Want another?” Jaskier asks, but they don't have a lot of extra funds and Geralt would rather watch him enjoy the strawberries than eat them himself.

“Not really one for sweets,” he mumbles, and Jaskier shoots him a knowing look before popping the last berry in his mouth.

“Thank you, dear,” he says with his mouth full of fruit, and Geralt snorts before leading him towards the mead tent.  Certainly they have enough coin left to slay his thirst.

—

As soon as Geralt hears the band, he knows he’s about to be dragged into a dance.  Decades ago, he might have refused, probably would have stomped his foot and held his ground and missed out on seeing the joy on Jaskier’s face.  Thankfully, spending years with Jaskier has taught him how to give in and let go.   Retirement is good for them both, and Geralt plans to spend the rest of his days keeping a smile on his lover’s face.

“Dance with me?” Jaskier asks, almost shyly as he holds out a hand.  Geralt covers it with his own and leans in close to whisper into his ear.

“They’re not as good as you,” he says, and Jaskier laughs bright and openly as they move into the crowd of dancers.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, darling,” Jaskier tells him with a wink, and then they’re moving together with the grace built by years of practice.

Geralt feels every year of his age right now, but Jaskier’s youthful energy makes them fit right in with the villagers around them.  The song is bouncy and light, and they hold each other up as they spin to the beat. Jaskier feels perfect in his arms, like they were built for each other, and Geralt can’t help squeezing him tighter as they dance.

Leaning in, Jaskier presses a quick kiss to Geralt’s cheek, his lute-calloused fingers laced with Geralt’s and their warm palms touching as they spin with the rest of the crowd.  Geralt nearly trips over his own feet, and Jaskier just leans back, giggling at him but still smiling brighter than the hot afternoon sun.  He looks absolutely gorgeous like this, his eyes alight and his cheeks flushed with exertion.

“Where is that famed witcher grace and agility?” Jaskier asks with a smirk.  “Gone soft in your retirement?”

“Wasn’t aware this was a competition,” Geralt says slowly before grinning at him and adding, “you want to see some skills?  How’s this work for you?”

Without any further warning, Geralt lowers his hands to Jaskier’s waist and tosses him up in the air.  Jaskier lets out a squeal, his lithe arms flailing before Geralt catches him quickly.  His dress swirls around them, the printed fabric swishing as they move.  He supports Jaskier by holding his slim waist and encouraging Jaskier to tuck his legs against his hip.  He does so, throwing his head back and laughing as Geralt keeps dancing.

Someone near them whistles appreciatively, but Geralt keeps his focus on Jaskier.  The corners of his eyes are crinkled, his whole face lit up as he looks down at Geralt.  They move in slow circles as the band winds down, and Jaskier leans in to kiss him as the last few notes of the song trail off.  His mouth is soft against Geralt’s, his hands even softer as he threads his fingers through Geralt’s hair.  He lets his feet drop, the petal pink heels clicking on the cobblestones beneath them, and grabs a fist of Geralt’s shirt, pulling him even closer.  They stand there kissing long after the next song starts, the dances moving around them without missing a beat.

—

By the time the sun sets, Geralt is more than ready to head back home.   But of course Jaskier won’t leave before the fireworks go off.  One well-timed pout had been enough to get Geralt to start searching for the perfect viewing spot.  They end up on a stone bench in the middle of one of the public gardens.  The Duchess’ palace stands tall above them, but neither of them felt the need to push past the festival crowds to fight for a seat inside.  No, this little alcove they found is much better.

They had a late dinner in one of the town squares, splitting a platter of meats and cheese and more of the sweet sun-ripened strawberries it seems every dish at the festival features.   His belly is pleasantly full, and the taste of sugary strawberry wine lingers on his tongue.  Geralt sighs and leans into Jaskier, humming happily before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  Jaskier sighs softly and nuzzles their cheeks together, his tanned skin still warm even as the night cools down around them.

Suddenly Geralt remembers his earlier purchase and slides a hand inside his pocket, his fingers easily finding the cool metal of the ring.  Jaskier is lost in his own head, his fingers tapping a lively beat against Geralt’s thigh, and Geralt realizes he’s most likely composing something.  He waits for the tapping to stop before clearing his throat and getting the bard’s attention.

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier asks, tilting his head as he turns to look at Geralt.  There’s something about the softness in his eyes that makes Geralt’s chest pull tight, and he ends up fumbling over his words.

“I, er, for you,” he mutters before shoving the ring at Jaskier.  He almost drops it, but Jaskier’s nimble fingers manage to hang on, and he lets out a gasp before holding the ring up in front of him.

“You went back for it!” he exclaims, eyes watering as he looks between the silver ring and Geralt’s face.

“You deserve pretty things,” Geralt mumbles, which just makes Jaskier move even closer to him.

He slides the ring onto his hand before holding it up to examine it properly.  The fiery opal looks elegant on his long finger, like it’s always belonged there.  Geralt tries to pretend he’s not pleased by the way Jaskier is preening over the jewelry, but he loves being able to provide little extravagances for him.  He didn’t lie when he said Jaskier deserves this and so much more.  Thankfully they have years ahead of them, and Geralt vows to keep spoiling him until his last day on this earth.

“The prettiest thing I ever got was you,” Jaskier tells him sweetly, and Geralt can feel his face flushing.  He tries to look away, but Jaskier cups his cheek in one hand and smiles dopily at him.  Geralt knows without a doubt that there’s a matching look on his own face, and he just doesn't care anymore.  Let the festival goers judge however they want.

His love ought to be celebrated, ought to be seen.

“Charmer,” Geralt manages to blurt out, and Jaskier just offers a shrug and another smile.

“Says the man who keeps charming me, over and over, each and every single day.  You’re a romantic, witcher mine, and there’s no use denying it,” Jaskier points out, much to Geralt’s dismay.  He takes a breath, like he’s about to argue more, but then a flash of light explodes above them, the boom echoing off the stone walls of the buildings surrounding them.  Jaskier gasps and turns his face towards the sky to watch the fireworks.

The Duchess puts on a stunning display, and they spend the next half hour watching the fireworks bloom in the night sky.  Well, Jaskier watches the fireworks.  Geralt watches Jaskier, as he is wont to do.  The bright colors flash around them, highlighting Jaskier’s cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, and Geralt thinks it’s one of the most gorgeous sights he’s ever seen.  His favorite views aren't fit for polite company, so he focuses on this moment instead of reminiscing.   Besides, he’ll have plenty of time to take his bard apart on their bedsheets once they return home for the night.  For now he is more than content to hold Jaskier in his arms while the fireworks flash and rain down around them.

[agoracactus]

Home Sweet Home

this is set after Geralt got his estate in Toussaint. absolutely love that place, everything is so pretty and vibrant there

and its just nice to know that after all his adventures he got a place to call home and some ppl to take care of him. enjoy!

Warning: lack of proofreading as it is very late now lol i just wanna get this out

Pairing: Geralt x F!reader

Word count: 830

§ Shortly after receiving Corvo Bianco §

You had a soothing bath after an extremely long day, and were comfortably lying in bed. You had your legs up against the wall, with a pillow under your head, feeling warm and sleepy.

Geralt walked out from behind the screen. He stopped, stared for a second, and decided he didn't want to know.

"Did the water get cold?" you watched him throwing the towel over the screen.

"No." he buttoned up his shirt.

"Can't believe the enchanted tub Yen gave us really worked." you said, while massaging your legs.

"Hmm." he sat down on his side of the bed.

"You should join me." you turned your head to look at him.

"...What?" "Put your legs up like this." "Why?" "Well, I heard that it helps with leg swelling." "My legs don't swell." "...Is that supposed to be a flex?" you raised your eyebrow, "C'mon! It wouldn't hurt to try! Plus, it would be too late when your legs do swell." you tugged on the bottom of his shirt, "Who knows, it might happen tomorrow? You are getting old."

He grunted, but complied.

"See? Not too bad right?" you grinned.

Another grunt.

"And apparently it works better with massages." you sat up, and started squeezing his calves, "It helps with blood flow, and gravity would help bring the waste back to your torso so your body can clean that dirty blood." "Hmm."

You stopped, "Are you upset about me calling you old?"

He sighed, "No." "Ok." you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and lay back down again with your legs up against the wall.

After a short silence- "Mr. Barnabas asked me what he should call me."

"...What has he been calling you then?" "Miss." you said with a dissatisfied tone. "What's wrong with miss?" "It doesn't sound right, sounds like I'm way too young. If Ciri could be called miss, calling me miss would be too weird." "...Alright."

"I doubt he would be ok with calling me by my first name- not to mention calling me Master..." you pressed your feet against the cool wall.

"Madam?" Geralt suggested.

"Meh, too old. Madam is what you call someone rich with no kids, having 2 cats and 3 dogs and a dead husband." you waved your hand, "And she either is the nicest person or the worst, no in between."

"Hmm." Geralt had both of his hands on his stomach, fingers laced together, "Lady?"

"Well lady doesn't sound too bad." you nodded, "Classy, elegant... It also sounds like you're having an affair with me and let me move in against your poor wife's will."

"...You'd rather be my mistress?"

"Are you asking me to marry you?" "No, I'm simply explaining to you, lady can be used for married couples as well." "Sounds like a proposal to me." "It is not." "So you don't wanna marry me?"

"..." He gave you a look. "Now you're just teasing me."

"Ahh, quick learner are we?" you grinned.

"I was one of the best in Kaer Morhen." he bragged.

"Well then you should also learn, that I'll be happier if you let me tease you."

He smiled, took your hand in his and gently pressed his lips upon your knuckles, "I'll keep that in mind, my lady."

§ After a long time §

You hopped off your horse, handing the rein to the stable boy.

"Thank you Gautbert." you said, staring pulling the knot on your cloak loose.

"My lady." Barnabas-Basil Foulty greeted you at the door, "How was the journey?" "It's ok, I'm just glad it only took a couple of days. It would seem that I can only sleep well in my own bed now." you jokingly said. "I'm glad that the trip went well. Master Garelt came home just now." Foulty opened the door for you.

"Already?" you quickly walked in.

Pushing open the bedroom door, you were met with the fresh scent of soap. The white hair witcher was standing by the feet of the bed, drying his hair with a towel.

"Hey you're home early!" you nearly jumped into his arms, before giving him a peck on the lips, "...I miss you." you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

"I miss you too." he held you tightly.

"...You smell nice!" you pulled away slightly to look at him more properly, even though you were only apart for two weeks.

"Wanted to look fresh for you." "Aww... And you cut yourself?" your thumb brushed over the side of his jaw. "I was in a rush." he shrugged. "Aren't you adorable." you kissed him again.

He pressed on the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, tongue grazing past yours. You happily gave in to his yearning.

"...Eager huh?" you broke away for air, eyes meeting his.

"I missed you a lot." he shrugged again, unapologetic.

You couldn't help but grin widely, "Well, we should see what we could do about that."

[thesynaxarium]

Today we celebrate our Venerable Father Seraphim of Vyritsa. Saint Seraphim is most well known known for a letter that he sent to his spiritual child, a bishop who was in a Soviet prison at that time; this homily "This was from me" is written as a consolation and counsel to the bishop to let him know that God the Creator addresses to the soul of man. Seraphim was born Basil Mouraviov in 1866; he married and had three children. Before agreeing with his wife to separate and enter into the monastic life, he once saw a dream where he was on a pilgrimage to visit a monastery of St. Nicholas and on the way there he lost his way and ventured into a forest. In the forest, an old man asked him for directions to that same monastery; the old man had a satchel on his back and an axe in his hand. He realised that this man was St. Seraphim of Sarov. At the age of 54, in 1920, he and his wife quietly separated and entered the monastic life. He entered the Lavra of St. Alexander Nevsky, taking on the name of "Barnabas." He was renamed "Seraphim" in 1927, in honour of St. Seraphim of Sarov, when he entered the Great Habit. He eventually became the spiritual father of the St. Alexander Nevsky Lavra in St. Petersburg, where, as a clairvoyant staretz, he also confessed thousands of laity. He said, "I am the storage room where people's afflictions gather." In imitation of his patron saint, he prayed for a thousand nights on a rock before an icon of St. Seraphim of Sarov. He reposed in the Lord in 1949. Source: https://orthodoxwiki.org/Seraphim_of_Vyritsa (at Vyritsa, Leningradskaya Oblast', Russia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqBonn0rz2o/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[cloudberry-sims]

1600-1700 names list

I been collecting names for my decades challenged and I decided to share it. It has a bunch of different names in alphabetical order. 

Not 100% sure how accurate these names are as I’m not a historian , but I like them. 

Some names are “nicknames” or a variation of the same name, like Faye is from Faith ,Orelia is from Aurelia and Sisely from Cecilia/Cecily. 

Some names are Shakespearean , Puritan/Virtue names , American Colonial and perhaps a Arthurian here and there. 

Female names: 

Abigail

Adilene/Adeline

Adrian/Adrianne/Adriana

Afra

Agatha

Agnes

Alice

Aliena

Althea

Amanda

Amelia

Amie

Amity

Amphilis

Anastasia

Andrea

Anis

Annabell/Annabella

Anne/Anna/Annie

Anthea

Aphra

Aquila

Arabella

Artemisia

Audrey

Augusta

Aurelia

Aurinda

Aveline

Avis

Ayala

Azaria

Azoah

Barbara

Barsheba

Basilia

Beatrice/ Beatrix/Bettrys

Berenice/Bernesia/Bernessa

Bethsaby

Betty

Bianca

Blanch/Blanche

Blisse

Blythe

Bridget

Candace

Caroline

Cassandra

Catherine

Causeanger

Cecilia/Cecily/Cicely

Chantal

Charis

Charissima

Charity

Charlotte

Chloe

Christabella

Christian/Christina/Christiana

Clary

Clemencie/ Clemence/Clemency

Clorinda

Constance

Cornelia

Cressida

Cynthia

Deborah

Deodate

Desdemona

Desire

Dessorell

Diana

Dido

Dinah

Dionise/Denise

Dionyza

Divinity

Dolabella

Dolora

Dorcas

Dorothy/Dorothea

Easter

Ebotte

Edith

Edna

Edonie

Effemia

Eleanor

Elise

Elizabeth

Ellen

Ellois

Ely

Emilia

Emma

Eppie

Esther

Etheldreda

Eunice

Euphanie

Evadne

Eve/Eva

Faith

Fanny

Fanstine

Faye/Fay

Felicity/Felice

Florence

Fortune

Frances

Francisca

Fronia

Gartheride

Georgette

Georgine

Gillian

Gilot

Gonerill

Good

Grace

Grisell

Gwenhoivar

Hannah

Harriet

Haven

Helen/Helena

Henrietta

Hermione

Hester

Hezekiah

Honesty

Honor

Honoria

Hope

Humility

Ida

Idonea

Imogen

Irelee

Irene

Iris

Isabella/Isabel

Isolde

Iva

Ivette

Jacobina/Jacobine

Jane

Janikin

Jemima

Jennette/Jennet/Janet

Jeronomie

Joan

Joanna

Jocatta

Jocosa

Jonee

Joy

Joyanne

Joyce

Judith

Juliana/Julia/Juliet

Karissa

Katherine/Kathleen

Kezia/Keziah

Kitty/ Kitlyn

Kloe/Khloe

Koreen/Korinne

Laura

Lavinia

Leah

Leticia

Lettice

Love

Luce

Luciana

Lucretia

Lucy

Lydia/Lidia

Mable

Magdalen

Maggy

Magnolia

Margaret

Margery

Marian/Marion

Mariella

Marina

Martha

Mary

Matilda

Maud

Mercy

Mildred

Millicent

Milly/Millie

Mirabel

Miranda

Modesty

Monica

Muriel

Myra/Myrah

Naomi

Nazareth

Nell

Nerissa

Nola

Octavia

Odelle

Olivia

Ophelia

Orelia

Orinda

Pain

Patience

Pauline

Penelope

Perdita

Petronella

Philippa

Phillis

Phoebe

Pleasance

Primrose

Priscilla

Prudence

Rachel

Rawsone

Rebekah/Rebecca

Remember

Rhoda

Robin

Rosalind

Rosaline

Rosamond

Rosanna

Rose

Ruth

Samantha

Sarah

Saskia

Sebeliah

Selah

Selina

Silence

Silvia

Sisely

Sitha

Skyler

Sophia

Susanna

Sustillian

Sybil/Sibilla

Syntha

Tabitha

Tace

Tamar

Tamora

Temperance

Theodora

Theodorien

Theodosia

Thomasin/Thomasina/Thomasea

Timandra

Titania

Trinity

Trothe

Tryphena

Ursula

Valentine/Valentina

Valeria

Vecula

Venetia

Verely / Verily/Verity

Veronica

Viola/Violenta

Virgilia

Virginia

Virtue

Winifred

Wulfhild

Wybetha

Zelda

Zipporah

Male names: 

Aaron

Abacuck

Abraham

Adam

Adlard

Adrian

Alan

Albert

Alexander

Alveredus

Ambrose

Anchor

Andrew

Annanias

Anthony

Archibald/Archbad

Archilai

Aristoteles

Arnold

Artemas

Arthur

Asa

Ashley

Atkinson

Augustine

Augustus

Austin

Bainbridge

Baldwin

Barnabas

Barnard

Bartell

Bartholomew

Bardolph

Basil

Bellingham

Benedict

Benjamin

Bennett

Bertram

Bevil

Blaise/Blais

Bradford

Brian

Cadwallader

Cesar

Charles/Charlys

Chadrick

Christian

Christopher

Chroferus/Chroseus

Ciriacus

Clement

Clifford

Conrad

Constant

Cornelius

Cosmo

Court

Cotton

Cromwell

Cuthbert

Cutlake

Cyrano

Daniel

Dary

David/Davide

Demes

Denton

Denys/Dionise

Didimus

Digory

Don

Drugo

Dudley

Ebenezer

Ebulus

Edric

Edi

Edmund

Edward

Edwin

Egedius

Eli

Elias

Ellis

Eloy

Emanuell/Emmanuel

Emericke

Emery

Emmett

Enoch

Erasmus

Ethan

Eustace

Evan

Everard

Everard

Ezrah

Fabian

Fairfax

Faustinus

Felix

Francis

Frank

Frederick

Fleance

Fulk

Gabraell/Gabrell/Gabriel

Galileo

Gamalie

Garmayne

Garnett

Gavan/Gawen

Gentile

Geoffrey

George

Gerlick

Gerrard

Gideon/Hedeon

Gilbert

Giles

Gillam

Gobind/Govind

Goodwell

Godfrey

Gottlieb

Goughe

Gregory

Grenville/Grevill

Griffin/Griffith

Guy

Hamond

Hannibal

Hansse

Harman

Harry

Harvard

Hector

Helegor

Henry

Hercules

Herrick

Hieronimus

Hiram

Hobbes

Holland

Howell

Hugh

Humphrey

Ilia

Ingram

Isaac

James

Jarret

Jasper

Jenkin

Jeremiah

Jeremy

Jerome

Jesse

John

Jonathan

Joos

Jordan

Joseph

Joshua

Josias

Justinian

Kaherdin

Karl/Karel

Kenelm/Kenhelm

Kip

Kolby

Lambert

Lancelot

Lawrence

Leonard

Lewis

Lucas

Lynoell/Lionel

Machutus

Manasses

Mark

Marmaduke

Martin/Marton

Matthew

Maurice/Morrice

Melchior

Meredith

Michael

Miles

Morgan

Moses

Nathaniel/Nathaniell/Nathan

Newton

Nicholas

Ninion

Nivinius

Noah/Noe

Noble

Octavius

Odnell

Oliver

Osmund

Ostyn

Oswin

Oswold

Ottewell

Owen

Paschall

Patreas

Paul

Pawll

Percivell/Pesevwell

Peter

Phillip

Pierce/Piers

Phineas

Prospero

Quince

Quinton

Quivier

Ralph

Randall

Randolph

Raphael

Rees

Reginald

Renold

Reyvell

Richard

Robert

Roger

Roland

Roman

Royal

Rymon

Salamon

Sampson

Samuel

Sander

Schuyler

Sebastian

Seraphim/Seraphimus

Septimus

Seth

Shadrick

Silvester

Simon

Simond

Stephen

Taz

Ted

Tedde

Thadeus

Theodosius

Thomas

Timothy

Titus/Tito

Tobias

Trenton/Trentin

Tristram

Tunstall

Turner

Ucentius

Umfray

Uswald

Valor

Valentine

Vandyke

Vaugn

Vernon

Victor

Vincent

Walter

Warham

Watkin

Wiggett

Wilfred

Willing

William

Wine

Wombell

Wymond

Zachary

Zephaniah

[northernolddragon]

About how Geralt and Regis were studying the bestiary with "red" flora and fauna (extinct creatures) and a dramatic observation in the background of a wonderful company of witchers and a vampire.

R. "There is such an extensive library in Kaer Morhen. The treasures of the witchers are not only in the history of the local walls, in weapons .." G. "So, Regis, we came to look for, that unknown "miracle", that crawled out to us last night, when we decided to clean up the territory. Considering that we had not wintered here for a long time, there were so many drowners and water hags, that we had to wash ourselves right in river." L. "I would have dipped you a couple more times, gray-haired .. You completely warmed your ass in Toussaint." E. "At least he didn't run from one eccentric sorceress on a routine sortie."

G. (not listening to them) "You study books like you know each one in its content." R. "I will not be modest .. I didn't deprive myself of the pleasure on my .. "vacation" to ask Dettlaff for everything he could find. Indeed, I can say, that I am familiar with the world not only of people and vampires, but also of your world and your art .. Well, acquaintance with you served as a desire to feed on knowledge in this direction .." G. "Wait a minute, so you were bluffing, when you sent me to fetch wight's saliva and you could have found it yourself without too much effort?" R. "No, my dear witcher, I would not, even if I could deal with the salivary glands of such a single specimen on my own. This is your vocation. Which you have done very reasonably and nobly." G. "Well, Marlene is a great woman. Barnabas-Basil is overjoyed with her. That he doesn't have to try his skills in cooking. R. "I would not want to offend our respected Barnabas, but his culinary skills will be used in scaring away certain monsters. " G. (nodding and smiling) "He admits it. As well as the fact that you charmed him, which is not surprising." R. "Thank you, my friend. But I think he was fascinated by my very pleasant tincture.." D. (muttering to himself) "This is a long time." E. (watching Regis and Geralt) "Shall we go downstairs and have a drink?"

L. (lamenting in the background) "I'd rather give a kiss to every water hag and nekkers, and tumble with drowners, than listen to all this." D. "We need a drink. We've got a case of mandrake tincture." E. "Sounds great." L. "When you find something, lovebirds, we'll be waiting for you downstairs..." D. "... not to say that in a sober state."

[sebdoeswords]

I love you Geralt of Rivia I love you Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy I love you Vernon Roche I love you Ves I love you Ciri I love you Shani I love you Dandelion I love you Zoltan Chivay I love you Milva I love you Angoulême I love you Cahir Mawr Dyffryn Aep Ceallach I love you Vesemir I love you Eskel I love you Lambert I love you Berengar I love you Coën I love you Jad Karadin I love you Cerys an Craite I love you Éibhear Hattori I love you Elihal I love you Letho of Gulet I love you Serrit I love you Auckes I love you Gaunter O'Dimm I love you Mislav I love you Florian Verrieres I love you Tomira I love you Johnny I love you Sarah I love you Meve I love you Reynard Odo I love you Barnabas-Basil Foulty I love you Marlene I love you Dettlaff I love you Villentrentenmerth I love you Jutta an Dimun I love you Iorveth I love you Cedric I love you Isengrim Faoiltiarna I love you Thirteen I love you Fenn I love you Silas I love you Millie I love you Gretka I love you Yoana I love you Roach I love you Babiyetza I love you Scorpion I love you

[wilczmin]

i should not be so emotional over the fact that geralt tells barnabas-basil, while renovating the estate, that he’s “thinking about getting a comfortable bed. always wanted one of those.”

[adventism-atheism-orthodoxy-me]

The Bloggers over at Ancient Faith Outdid Themselves Today

Fr. Barnabas Powell - A Good Wife Is More Precious Than Jewels "We look at the description of this virtuous woman and we only see how much we aren’t like that. And, at this moment, we have two choices: We can throw up our hands and fall into the trap and lie of despondency and condemnation OR we can run to the Father Who loves us more than we, ourselves, know how to love and cry out the prayer the Church teaches us to pray every moment: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!”"

Fr. Stephen Freeman - The Frightful Path of Judas "We are Judas and we are the Thief. If Holy Week and Pascha teach us anything, it is to measure and view the world and ourselves in the framework of the story of Christ’s Pascha."

Hieromonk Gabriel - The Words of Our Mother It is only these words that can make sense of all the senseless history of humankind. It is only these words that can give any true meaning or purpose to our lives. Everyone, everywhere asks: “What does it all mean? What is this all for?” The truth of our lives is that each and every one of us was born into this world for one reason, and one reason only: so that after a lifetime of pain and joy, of sin and repentance, of suffering and fellowship and loss, we too might finally learn to say to God: “be it unto me according to Thy word.”

Fr. Basil - God is a Consuming Fire “What of our lives and ourselves will the firestorm of the Lord’s passion touch?  St.  John goes on, “So does it happen with a man, and everything depends on what he brings to the divine Fire – in what state he touches God. If he keeps himself like iron, the power of the iron becomes steel. If he lets himself go to the point of the weakness of chaff – he will burn up.” St John the Wonderworker of Shanghai and San Francisco. “God Is a Consuming Fire.”  St. Nicholas Orthodox Church. https://www.orthodox.net/articles/god-is-consuming-fire-john-maximovich.html

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Words of Our Mother hit me the hardest though.

I know a pastor friend who, as part of a team, always ends up with the annunciation Sermon around Christmas. The time when Protestants think about such things. She has lamented the fact that she has to go over the same material year after year.

Yet, this particular blog post really highlights the importance of Mary's role in human history, and within the incarnation. And is way beyond anything I have heard within a Protestant setting.

When Salvation is nothing more than a Morality Play, Legal Maneuvering, or an outright Legal Fiction - what role would the mother of Christ play?

[mybookof-you]

Barnabas: He grew the herbs himself, through. In the garden. He planted the seeds, and everything came up. Except the basil.

Destruction: And the chives.

Barnabas: And the chives.

Destruction: But that was because somebody decided that the chive patch was an ideal location for bone-burying.

Barnabas: And somebody said he wouldn't keep going on about a perfectly understandable mistake that anyone could have made.

Neil Gaiman, The Sandman: Brief Lives, Vol. 7

[drogba-prospect]

Sébastien Michaëlis - Wikipedia

Sébastien Michaelis was a French inquisitor and prior of the Dominican order who lived during the late 16th and early 17th centuries. His Histoire admirable de la possession et conversion d'une penitente (1612) includes a classification of demons which has passed into general use in esoteric literature.

Michaëlis's classification

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In 1613 the Dominican prior and French inquisitor, Sébastien Michaëlis wrote a book, Admirable History, which included a classification of demons as it was told to him by the demon Berith when he was exorcising a nun, according to the author.[a] This classification is based on the Pseudo-Dionysian hierarchies, according to the sins the devil tempts one to commit, and includes the demons' adversaries (who suffered that temptation without falling).[18][21]

First hierarchy

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The first hierarchy includes angels that were Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones:[18]

Beelzebub was a prince of the Seraphim, just below Lucifer. Beelzebub, along with Lucifer and Leviathan, were the first three angels to fall. He tempts men with pride and is opposed by St. Francis.

Leviathan was also a prince of the Seraphim who tempts people to give into heresy, and is opposed by St. Peter.

Asmodeus was also a prince of the Seraphim, burning with desire to tempt men into wantonness. He is opposed by St. John the Baptist.

Berith was a prince of the Cherubim. He tempts men to commit homicide, and to be quarrelsome, contentious, and blasphemous. He is opposed by St. Barnabas.

Astaroth was a prince of Thrones, who tempts men to be lazy and is opposed by St. Bartholomew.

Verrine was also a prince of Thrones, just below Astaroth. He tempts men with impatience and is opposed by St. Dominic.

Gressil was the third prince of Thrones, who tempts men with impurity and is opposed by St. Bernard.

Soneillon was the fourth prince of Thrones, who tempts men to hate and is opposed by St. Stephen.

Second hierarchy

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The second hierarchy includes Powers, Dominions, and Virtues:[18]

Carreau was a prince of Powers. He tempts men with hardness of heart and is opposed by St. Vincent.

Carnivale was also a prince of Powers. He tempts men to obscenity and shamelessness, and is opposed by John the Evangelist.

Oeillet was a prince of Dominions. He tempts men to break the vow of poverty and is opposed by St. Martin.

Rosier was the second in the order of Dominions. He tempts men against sexual purity and is opposed by St. Basil.

Belias was the prince of Virtues. He tempts men with arrogance and women to be vain, raise wanton children, and gossip during mass. He is opposed by St. Francis de Paul.

Third hierarchy

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The third hierarchy Principalities, Archangels, and Angels:[18]

Verrier was the prince of Principalities. He tempts men against the vow of obedience and is opposed by St. Bernard.

Olivier was the prince of the Archangels. He tempts men with cruelty and mercilessness toward the poor and is opposed by St. Lawrence, patron saint of the poor.[22]

Iuvart was the prince of Angels. At the time of Michaelis's writing, Iuvart was believed to have possessed a young novice nun of the Ursulines, Madeleine Demandols de La Palud, from whom it was exorcised.[23]

Many of the names and ranks of these demons appear in the Sabbath litanies of witches, according to Jules Garinet's Histoire de la magie en France, and Collin de Plancy's Dictionnaire Infernal.

Gervais is a PETIT CHAMPLAIN MEMBER of Michaëlis Classification; Sin is Hersey and brings Distorted Sensory Play and Drug Sorcery.

Petit Champlain Baby Satans