#margarita laux-antille x tissaia de vries

[witchercommentcrawl]

Crawl Rec: There Are Poppies Growing Over Where My Lover's Lying by Holliday_inn

There Are Poppies Growing Over Where My Lover's Lying

Fanwork type: Fanfic Author: Holliday_inn Rating: Explicit Pairing: Margarita/Tissaia, Margarita/Philippa (implied) Content Warnings: none Canon: Book Wordcount: 3953

Summary: During the holidays when the veil between worlds are stretched thin, Margarita Laux-Antille finds herself with a peculiar visitor.

Rec: The emotional and sensory detail in this story is exquisite and the author has taken so much care in showing us Margarita's life since canon ended. Her struggles, her growth. How she's kept herself going amidst her loss. Surviving is hard. It's an entire novel's worth of characterization in less than 4k and written with lovely imagery. The story takes place at Belletyn and implies that it also happens at Samhain and I am glad that Margarita has these times to meet with Tissaia.

There's this perfect combination of hurt with the angst of grief and loneliness. Tissaia is gone and Margarita misses her, but the comfort is the softest, most emotional smut you will ever find. This story haunting, but it's also an incredibly sweet portrayal of Margarita and Tissaia's love. It's beautiful and enduring.

-@kuwdora

[badasspantiestalker]

Please vote for the character you want to have drawn by me for the 6 Character Fanart Challenge! 😊💕

The poll will go 1 week, the six characters with the highest scores will be selected for the challenge. ^^

[lanfear-is-my-darkmistress]

Who do the writers think they're fooling, they expect us to believe that Tissaia's and Yennefer's relationship was a 'mother and daughter' one. What with Vilgefortz saying stuff like "oh me and her have some much in common like our rage and tempestuous and our need to win an argument and also our love for you". So they're saying that Tissaia fell for and got into bed with a man who has the same personality as her 'daughter'. Really? They expect us to believe that. If they wanted the two of them to pass off a mother and daughter relationship they shouldn't have thrown in that line. Let's all be honest Tissaia got with him because it was the closest thing she'd get to having Yennefer as a lover.

Your not fooling anyone Netflix!!!

[chaosandorder46]

An alternate version of Rinde if Tissaia had shown up a bit later.

OR...

Tissaia de Vries accidentally crashes an orgy.

[daerienn]

Gentle reminder that we are hosting another Teeny Tiny Tissaia Bang. You can find all info here! Happy writing and arting! 🫶🏻

[corvo-bianco-lilacs]

There was something about curling up in Tissaia's bed that Rita couldn't get enough of.

The subtle hint of tobacco that lingered after her morning drag off her pipe.

The soft hints of floral fragrance that lingered from the previous day, the smell falling from her skin and embedding itself into the fibers of her sheets, nestling in to the nooks and crannies of her plush pillows, lingering for a few days before the next wave of fragrance took its place.

The way that the bed had perfectly formed to their bodies, with Tissaia's side curled protectively around Rita's side, their shadows nestled into the bed, cuddled up with not a care in the world.

Yes, there were many reasons why Margarita loved curling up in Tissaia's bed over hers, but the most enchanting reason was the sorceress who was currently perched on the edge of it, pipe held delicately between slender fingers, hair falling in auburn waves over hunched shoulders, with a scroll and ashtray nestled on the comforter before her.

"Working late, love?" Rita questioned, lowering herself onto the bed behind Tissaia, leaning over to press a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. "Or are you busy cracking a spell or two?"

Tissaia hummed, a small laugh nestled deep in her chest, as she turned her eyes to meet Rita's, causing the blonde to blush prettily at the sight of those keen, hawk's eyes.

Tissaia smiled at her reaction, leaning over just slightly to press her own soft kiss to Rita's jaw, just below her earlobe, making her flush deeper.

"No... I was waiting for you to join me, my star. Get comfortable."

Rita did as she was told, reclining back into the pillows beside Tissaia, watching her love as she finished her pipe, placed her artifacts on the bedside table, then reclined back herself, wrapping her body around Rita's until they were nestled perfectly together.

"Sleep well, my darling. I shall see you in the morning." Tissaia breathed, pressing another soft kiss to the crown of Rita's head, her nose pressed into the mass of curls.

"I love you."

"And I love you, my darling. Now rest." Tissaia hummed, her fingers slowly brushing over Rita's back, soothing her tense muscles and allowing her to melt into the covers. "Sleep and dream of me, as I will of you."

[uglylaugher]

Y'know,i love myself some funny pranks😈;just when it's not pulled on me. 🤣🤣

Here's an idea:

Yennefer pranks the Rectoress(Tissaia dV),just for fun,but enlists the help of ofc. Rita and who ever else you decide to use.

I think it would be funny because Tissaia is someone with a metal pole stuck so far up her ass,that it's majestic.Ofc. Yen wants to bend that pole to a 90°C angle for the fun of it.

OH! it would even be so funny if she got the Aretuza students in on it too !! 🤣🤣😎

NB*you don't need to follow this idea exactly, change it up and do whatever you'd like with this idea to your liking. 🙃

[ao3yennaia]

Unwilling Roomies (working title feel free to make suggestions)

by Writers_Dilemma

Tissaia thought it would be a good idea to let Rita help her find a roommate after she dumped her cheating fiance. Turns out, it was a very, very, very bad idea, because Rita gleefully found one Yennefer Vengerberger and dropped the fiery, free-spirited woman onto Tissaia's uptight lap. Yennefer finds Tissaia a delightful challenge, and their push and pull might just pull them close enough to finally see the sparks flying.

Words: 2815, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F

Characters: Tissaia de Vries, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Margarita Laux-Antille, Triss Merigold, Sabrina Glevissig, Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Philippa Eilhart, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen

Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Sabrina Glevissig/Triss Merigold, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: hey there tropes...it's me..ya girl, and they were ROOMMATES, yeah I'm taking a stab at that one, Mostly Fluff, but prob a little angst, because i have no self-control, there are mentions of vilgefuck in here and he'll likely show up at least once, but don't worry, he ain't even a footnote in tissaia's life here, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Yennaia, Yennefer x Tissaia, melitele give me strength

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/42623187

[witcherbigbang]

Your Mouth Is Poison (Your Mouth Is Wine)

Author: ClydeThistles

Beta Reader: ExpatGirl

Artist: punchsomeoneforme-willyou

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 37,975

Pairing: Margarita Laux-Antille/Tissaia de Vries

Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Poisons & Plants & Potions, Tenderness, Canon Compliant

Summary:

Based on the canon premise that Rita and Tissaia author academic works together. Follows their relationship over the years with each chapter related to a poison in the compendium they write. NB: NOT teacher/student. Timeframe is from just after Falka's Rebellion to several years after the Thanedd Coup.

Link to Fic | Link to Art

[fuck-yeah-yennefer]

Margarita: We should go to the park sometime i feel like i'm not getting enough sunlight.

Margarita: Or water.

Tissaia: Am i dating a houseplant?

[seraph-of-innsmouth]

Sheala was powerful. She knew this, knows this still, and others knew this, and so, many feared her. And Philippa was casting Margarita away. Not intentionally– of course not, Philippa would know better– but she had her eyes on Triss Merigold. Merigold was a puppy, obsessed and needy, and Margarita was a broken woman. Philippa was making her choice, and she was always one to appreciate worship.

So, Sheala, being feared, decided that having a broken woman to pretend to fix– a broken woman who was kind and just so happened to be rectoress of Aretuza– would be beneficial. It was, for a time. Margarita was an asset, and to be handled as such. She would be taken to bed, would be ravished, and then used– she was a powerful tool for negotiation and she endeared Sheala to people, they started to think of her as kinder, more understanding, more soft-hearted, and she used it to her advantage.

She didn't notice how Margarita was breaking, slowly chipping away and cracking, and that she was a dam and not a doll. Sheala was adding, slowly, to the water pressure against Margarita's defenses, the former playing King of the World on top.

And, so she found herself plummeting into the waters; being rushed under waves of repressed emotion and turmoil as they swept into her lungs. She almost drowned.

But she was powerful, and she was strong. She handled it, because she could. She pet Margarita's hair, and whispered into her ear that it was okay; that it was over now; that what was done was done, no fault of her own.

And Margarita... She believed Sheala. She wanted to believe her so badly, so horribly, terribly, much, that she did. So, she fell with Sheala into the waters and they swam together, Sheala acting as best she could as a buoy in the storm.

She pitied Margarita, so fully that she came to her and acted as a lifejacket; something to stop the drowning, even if it didn't always work, even if the waves were sometimes too large and they both drowned in them for a night. Sheala always came back, though, and Rita became a source of joy; a source of trust and a thing that she had power over helping, something that needed her, even if it didn't want to. Sheala wanted Rita and yet did not need her, Rita needed Sheala and yet did not want her; because Rita couldn't trust herself to love someone.

"I love Tissaia, and I loved her," she would cry softly, "and yet she didn't love me enough to stay," and Sheala would just kiss her head softly and let her talk. She knew that nothing she could think to say would be enough, not for lack of trying to think of something that could mend that wound as magic would a bruise or cut; she knew that this was far too deep a wound to heal like that, and a wound left alone to bleed for far too long; and she knew that it would never fully heal, there would always be a reminder, a touch, a smell, a taste, an action or word, all to bring back the memories and drown the woman in tears. There would always be that scar and it would always bring pain when poked at too hard. Even so, she tended the wound with care, responding to every question of "Would you leave me?" with a kiss and an embrace. Sheala, she knew now, would never leave this woman on purpose; not without going through hell and back to keep her. Sheala would do everything in her power to keep this woman safe and content in her arms; and she did.

They were tortured and killed off, one by one; it felt like every day was just another person Sheala knew killed, and she felt herself lose hope with every wound and every question drawn out of her with the blade of a knife. She knew pain beyond physical with an intimacy she never had before, and she wept for Rita silently and without tears. A sorceress did not cry.

When the Witcher Geralt and Yennefer got to her, she knew she had already died; so she begged to see Rita, to touch her face one last time, tell her why. Make her know that this was not a choice for herself. Rita came, and she wept fully and freely and Sheala talked to her, comforted her, walked her through her fears and horror like she had learnt so well to do.

"I care for you, Margarita Laux-Antilles; my Rita, my cherry blossom. I care for you so deeply and so very fully and I need you to know this, my Rita. I need to go, and you need to let me." Sheala paused, letting her Rita process what she was saying; making room for objection or word. There was nothing but silence and sorrow. Sheala continued, "I am going because I care, my cherry blossom, and because I cannot continue to care if I do not. Not as deeply or as well, and certainly not as long as you or I would like; so you must let me leave. I am asking permission, my beautiful Rita."

"I don't want you to go." It was almost a sob, but Rita, her Rita, was much stronger than anyone gave her credit for. Even Sheala, herself, for a time.

"A want, a need, and a wish, are all different, Rita," Sheala whispered into Rita's lips, as she levied herself up on her arm and pressed her nose to her Rita, "and I know that you need to let me go, for now. You can join me; Tissaia and I, both; later on, once you have lived fully and freely. She would have wanted and I want now, for you to have that. It's what you deserve, Rita.

"Please don't go. I love you." It was almost funny that the first time Sheala had heard that from her Rita, that it would be her last, "I don't need you, Sheala, my flower, not anymore. But I want you. I want you to stay. You can go, but you have to, you must know that I am yours just as much as you are mine. I love you."

Sheala laughed softly; she hadn't known, and she hadn't known that those very words that she had only ever heard twice from her Rita were the very thing she needed to confirm that Rita was going to heal from this. Rita healing was all she needed, and she was satisfied to know that she would die at peace with what she had left behind.

"I know."

And with that, they kissed for the last time; both knowing that this was the last time forever for both of them; and they parted ways. Rita watched as her lover died a merciful death, one that was not as dignified as she deserved but more so than the slow and humiliating death that would have befallen her. Rita would have loved her anyway– because that was how love was; it seeds and is fragile as it grows into maturity but, once established, will be hard to be rid of– but, Rita also knew that Sheala deserved this mercy, and that her Sheala had wanted to stay and care for her. So, she honoured the person she loved, just as she had honoured the one she had loved before and during her; she loved them both fully, and still fully, though only one had been free.

She left the place that she had been kept and tortured, and she went back to the place where both of her lovers now lay, separated by a small plot of land, about three feet across.

She spent most days in the garden that held her two loves, and she worked herself half to death most months, but she was happier than she could remember being in a very long time.

She got old and, with age, came illness and, with illness, came an end. She was worried, in her own way, about the lives of those she would leave behind, but she knew that she could not keep going forever and that, someday, it would be someone else's job to take care of her again, if she kept on. She didn't want that, as that had been Sheala and Tissaia's place and always would be so. So, she let herself degrade peacefully; knowing that it was now her turn.

She let herself be lain in a bed after she had trouble with her breath, and she let herself be fussed over for a few hours before quieting the room, telling them that it was alright and that she wanted to go; that she was alright with death and that it didn't scare her. She let people say their goodbyes and she said her own, her breathing getting raspy and shallow. She finally slipped away, after a little and she slipped with a soft, reassuring smile.

"Thank you, so much. I'll take care of everyone from now on. You don't have to worry," Nina whispers, closing Rita's eyes for the final time. Rita has breathed her last breath and she is resting, far away from the horrors that she had to witness and close to all the people who trust and trusted her; she is here, among those who were, in at least a partial capacity, dependant on her, and those who will miss her dearly for her part in their lives. Her adepts don't shed tears, but they whisper words to themselves and her; words that are sweet and bitter and full of sorrow. Those who she grew with, learnt with, all look on with determination to do what is needed to be done, even though she is gone; they whisper in their minds words so similar to the hushed tones around them.

Rita is covered in fabrics; none fine, mostly burlap and scraps of burnt dresses, but it's what she deserves and so, it is what she is given. She's spent so long not being given what she deserves. And this place, Aretuza, has spent so long ending in tragedy; it's finally been given a peaceful end. Finally, an ending to celebrate instead of mourn; and a love not broken, but peacefully set to rest in the heart of Aretuza. 

They all set to digging a grave, among the flowers of the rebuilt courtyard; something Rita had spent hours upon every day, taking a large workload and barely any rest until is was once again beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than it had been; no-one really remembers exactly how the courtyard looked, it had been so long and the memories so painful.

There were grave markers, one filled with lavender and bluebells, the other with black hellbornes; and her grave was set between. She was lain to rest among them, a small cherry tree planted among the fragrance. The smell suited her.

[uselessfanboy]

✨Rissaia ✨

I love them together so much. They deserve to be happy.

I did try something different than usual for skins and colors and ngl I'm in love with it.

Hope you like it and let me know c:

If you repost please give credit:

Ig: @belzebulbe

Tumblr: @uselessfanboy

[sunflowerandsins]

I'm bored and on vacation so my inbox is open for requests! Give me a witcher wlw prompt and I'll do my best to write something short with it✨

[immortalspacelesbian]

yennefer: are you in love with rita?

tissaia, sweating: ... no

yennefer: then why do you draw t+r in hearts everywhere?

tissaia: it stands for tea and revenge.

[chaosandorder46]

Me, googling 'kidnapper hood'. 😳😬

My FBI agent, knowing it's just research for my WIP. 'Girl, I got you.' 😏

[likecastle]

Witcher Femslash February -  Apart

OK, I’m gonna try to do as many of @bamf-jaskier​‘s Witcher Femslash February prompts as I can!​ No promises that I’ll be able to keep up with it, but I’m gonna give it a shot!

“What?” Tissaia repeats, not for the first time.

“—me now?” Rita’s voice crackles back into focus, emanating thin but clear from the xenovox on Tissaia’s desk.

“Yes, that’s better.” Somewhat, anyway. “Don’t move.”

“Sorry, darling,” Rita says. “We’ve all been having a terrible time with magical interference lately. Enid says it’s the ruins. Apparently, they emit a low level of magical radiation that can make certain kinds of spells extremely unpredictable. According to Enid, there are all sorts of curious phenomena attributed to interference from lingering elven spellwork. Did you know there’s a manor house somewhere outside of Oxenfurt where a portal is known to open periodically in the back of a wardrobe, of all places?”

Tissaia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yes, I did.”

“Somebody really ought to do a comparative study between that portal and the one at Tor Lara. I  don’t think I’ve ever seen a proper survey of spontaneously occurring portals, have you? Maybe Yennefer would know of one. Didn’t she—”

“If I arranged a research grant, would you come home any sooner?”

Rita laughs. “Oh, I’m being a dreadful bore, aren’t I?”

Tissaia doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. Rita has precious little time to spare for her while she’s away on this expedition, and Tissaia doesn’t want to waste what time they do have complaining, though she’s sorely tempted to.

“You aren’t jealous, are you?” Rita asks.

That Rita is far away on an isolated research expedition led by an elven sorceress widely believed to be the most beautiful woman in the world? “Of course not.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about, my dear.” Tissaia tries not to bristle at the smile she hears in Rita’s voice. “I much prefer a sullen, sour-faced paramour. Someone strict and judgmental, who really can’t take a joke.”

“What a relief,” Tissaia says dryly, and is rewarded with another peal of Rita’s tinny laughter.

“Just a few more weeks,” Rita says, finally relenting in her teasing. “A month, at most.”

“It’s not the same without you here,” Tissaia says, because she cannot bring herself to say, I miss you.