#elven's writing

[chaoticspacefam]

all their words for glory, they always sounded EMPTY

You make me laugh until I die, can you think of any better way to choke? 

And all their words for glory

Well they always sounded empty

[....] 

Way down here upon the ground

When we're lying in the dirt

There's no looking up for heaven ~ Bastille - Glory

CW: Sith Inquisitor (Alderaan) spoilers, Angst, Character Death and some Hurt/Comfort kinda-sorta-I guess at the end there XD, Below the cut!

Ni’kasi had feared the worst when Elana Thul had holo’d her to give her the news of the ambush at House Organa and that Urtel hadn’t reported back. Although they still had to travel to the Elysium and find the artifact that Zash was near-rabid about her tracking down, she felt compelled to take a momentary detour and help a fellow Sith - after all, Urtel had been nothing but kind to her, in more ways than one. As expected, they had arrived at the House Organa building to find the place in shambles, and any of the rest of Urtel’s party were far too close to death’s door to be of much use in telling her where he was. Ni’kasi’s stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot, and with a quick glance back at Andronikos to ensure the pirate was still at her side, the Pureblood took off at a run, purple bolts of electricity streaming from her fingertips to mow down any Jedi that dared try and block her path. The dull thrum of Andronikos’ blaster rifle behind her told the Pureblood that he kept close pace with her, firing at anything that she missed as she frantically searched the halls for the other Sith.

“Urtel!” she kept calling out every few paces, but never received an answer. “Urtel?!” 

Ni’kasi skidded to a stop as she rounded the corner and this time came upon a sealed blast door, hissing through her teeth in frustration. The pirate pulled up next to her, letting out a quiet, confused grunt of his own. The yelp of pain in a familiar voice on the other side of the security door launched both of them out of their adrenaline-induced stupor and back into action. Andronikos, despite his apparent earlier protests of jealousy, quickly raised his blaster and fired twice at the controls to deactivate the lockdown, barking. “Go, GO!” at her. Ni’kasi didn’t need to be told twice, the Pureblood launching forward and flying through the half-opened doorway just in time to watch the Jedi run the young Sith through with his saber.

“No!”

Ni’kasi only vaguely heard the pirate behind her curse, her vision turned red, she simply closed the distance between herself and the Jedi at alarming speed. Before the fool could so much as blink the Pureblood had extended her own hands, lightning engulfing him and streaming in a torrent around the man’s body until whatever tension was left in the muscles of his legs could no longer hold him up and the corpse dropped to the ground in front of her with a dull thump. 

Andronikos put a blaster bolt between the bastard’s eyes for good measure while Ni’kasi was more preoccupied with running to Urtel. She dropped to her knees next to him, yanking her visor up with one hand whilst the other tucked behind his head to try and hold it up. It was a solid, through-and-through stab, and the singe of burnt flesh filled the air. Urtel coughed, his eyes glassy and unfocused, but as he sensed the other Force presence beside him he did try to look in Ni’kasi’s direction. “....Y-You came back.”

“Of course I came back, silly.” she croaked, her voice cracking as she stared down at him in disbelief, knowing full well there was nothing that she could do that would save him now…but she couldn’t bear to leave him. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun now, could I?” 

Urtel tried to laugh, but the sound came out as more of a strangled wheeze than anything else. 

“...Wh-Where do…you think…we go when we die?” he choked out, voice strained. She could smell the fear radiating off of him, it settled around her like a snake, constricting tighter and tighter as he continued. “I have never…been afraid, before-” Glancing upwards to make sure they weren’t about to be set upon, she found Andronikos had taken up a post by the door, glancing over his shoulder at her to flash the Sith inquisitor a faint, but reassuring smile. I’ve got this. Stay with him.

Ni’kasi shushed Urtel softly, settling next to him and cradling his head the best she could. She couldn’t save him. But at least he wouldn’t have to die alone and afraid. “Shhh, shh shh. Hey. Look at me, it’s okay.” she promised, willing herself not to cry. “Urtel. Look at me, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m right here.” the Pureblood whispered, her own breath leaving her in a shuddering gasp as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to the other Sith’s forehead. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here…”

She felt some of the tension in his muscles relax at her assurances, and her heart broke all over again.

“...Th-Thank you.”

“I’m so sorry.” she murmured back, with all sincerity. “I should have been quicker-”

“You are here. That’s all that m-matters.” Urtel managed to give her a final, weak smile, reaching up with a shaky hand to try and brush aside the stray lock of hair that had fallen past her visor.

His fingers never touched her hair before the Sith went limp in her arms. 

***

The rest of the report to Elana Thul went by as a blur, Ni’kasi couldn’t say she remembered much of it at all, but one sentence in particular kept buzzing around her skull like an angry hornet as she went through the motions of fetching the stupid artefact for Zash and came back to the ship to deliver the report to her master. 

Asset.

He was an asset. 

Zash, too, described the fallen Sith Lord in similar terms, when Ni’kasi had brought up the news of his death her master had waved it off in a very nonchalant fashion, as if it didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things (and realistically, to Sith it didn’t).

“Oh, that is most unfortunate, apprentice. But nothing you need concern yourself with. We will find other Sith to replace the posts so that House Thul will remain safe - and more importantly, indebted to us.” 

Asset. Just an asset.

Years of holding her tongue in the slave pits of Dromund Kaas served Ni’kasi well, but she was immensely glad for her oversight of not removing her visor when they’d returned to the ship. It meant Zash wouldn’t be able to see the look in her eyes as she bristled at the blasé tone in the Darth’s voice and instead forced out an agreement of: “Of course, my Lord. It wouldn’t do to lose their favour now.”

“No indeed. Elana Thul invited you to a little celebration, I hear?” Zash continued, shaking Ni’kasi back into the present and forcing her to put her own emotions at bay for the time being.

“Y-Yes, my Lord. Though I’m of half mind to decline.”

Zash beamed at her, suspiciously cheerful. It unsettled her.

“No, by all means, you two go and enjoy yourselves for a few hours! You’ve earned it!” the Darth insisted. “I’ll see you back on Dromund Kaas immediately afterward, but what is life without a few of the indulgences, mhm?” 

“If you insist, Master.” the Pureblood dipped her chin, leaning her hands against the edge of the projector as Zash disconnected the call. The hologram of the Darth blinked out of existence, and Ni’kasi finally exhaled the breath she hadn’t even realised she had been holding in, her head drooping in defeat.

“You alright, Sith?”

The Pureblood said nothing, but the way that she wordlessly reached up with one hand, all but ripped the mask from her face and threw it across the main hold, said everything. 

“Okay. Yeah. Stupid question, I know.” she heard Andronikos’ footsteps behind her as the pirate slowly approached her from where he had been leaning on the bulkhead, just out of view of the projection lens. 

Ni’kasi said nothing at first, a low snarl slipping from between her teeth as she braced the hand back against the projector. “You…wanna talk about it?” Andronikos offered, a little wary, but apparently trying his best to be supportive regardless.

She had no words to tell him how much she appreciated it. For several long moments, they stand in silence, the pirate staring at her, and the Sith staring at the grain of the metal beneath her. Her fingers trembled as they curled against the surface they were pressed against, as if imagining something else beneath them instead. 

Asset. Asset. Replaceable.

“They don’t even care.” she spat, words laced with contempt, without looking up at Andronikos. “None of them care that he’s dead. All they care about is the fucking war.” 

Maybe the Empire was far more broken than she had first thought.

“Yeah. Not so great of ‘em, is it? Seems to be a regular thing for…other Sith.”

“He was a person.” Ni’kasi growled in protest, before Andronikos could imply she should be lumped in with Zash’s ilk, the threat of angry tears stinging in her eyes though none fell. “He was a person, not an asset.” she might not have had feelings for Urtel. But she had liked him, and he didn’t deserve to die. Not like that. He deserved to have someone care about the fact that he was gone, not just brush over it like he was another karking statistic and rush to find his next replacement.

“I know.” Andronikos nodded, sighing deeply as he propped his hip against the projector next to her. “And I get that you’re angry…just, don’t start swingin’ at me for it, yeah?”

The Pureblood barked out a dry laugh, finally lifting her head. “I would never.” she promised, trying to soften her tone. “I wouldn’t want to scare you off.” the ghost of a smile flickered across her lips as she studied him, then. “I would miss you.”

Andronikos smiled back at her, gently. “I’d miss ya too, Sith.” he promised, spreading his arms out in a silent question. She couldn’t recall the last time she had gotten a hug. The concept seemed almost…foreign, to the inquisitor now. But something about the gesture soothed some of the hurt she felt in that moment and so, equally as silent, she stepped into his arms with a sigh.

“We don’t gotta go to that party if you don’t want.” he mumbled into her hair as she pressed her forehead into his jacket and took a deep, but shaky breath. “We can just…sit here for a bit, I guess, if Zash is so insistent on giving us “time off”.”

She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head into his shoulder. “No. I…think it’d be good to take my mind off things, the wine will help with that.” 

Not that she would need much of it. But still. It would help. 

“Can’t say I wouldn’t look forward to seein’ you done up in an evening gown.” Ni’kasi could hear the grin in the pirate’s voice. “Alright, then. We’re all set for travelling to Kaas when we’re done, so…” whenever she was ready, essentially.

“Then far be it from me to disappoint.” she joked back. The Pureblood closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the comforting, familiar contact for just a moment longer before she finally wiggled out of the pirate’s grip and stepped back. “Okay. But meet me in the cargo hold first.” 

Andronikos’ expression is one of equal parts confusion and hopefulness as he tilted his head at her and asked. “What for…?”

“I’m going out on a limb and I’m going to assume you don’t know how to dance.” the Sith grinned back at him. “We’re going to have to fix that before we leave, can’t have you embarrassing me can I~”

#swtor #swtor fanfiction #elven's writing #by the stars #subterfugeverse #subterfugeverse oneshot #swtor oc: ni'kasi ahaszaai #sith inquisitor #sith inquisitor spoilers #(i mean...this part has been out for a decade now but *just in case* lmfao) #andronikos revel #urtel moren #ni'kasi/andronikos #hi hello i am working on other things i owe people i SWEAR #but i had an uncontrollable urge to write this this evening. so i did. #listen urtel always gives me *FEELINGS* #and while i do agree that thematically it makes *sense* that the thuls and the others don't *care* #it upsets me immensely that *even if you have a fling with him*; the only responses your inq can give are super flippant and nonchalant too #so have a oneshot of kas's *ACTUAL* reaction to the urtel thing ;;-;; #good thing andronikos gives good hugs huh 🥺 #listen he can be very somft when he wants to be and she really needed that hug this time lmao #also yes the end *IS* a reference to the dance scene/oneshot i posted wips of before #its still in WIP hell atm cause i had no idea where to slot it in in the story #but *NOW* i do so i will 100% be editing/finishing that up too #consider that the fill in the gaps oneshot(s) of how kas and andronikos got serious <3 #oh and pls excuse any borked/weird formatting; i did the vast majority of the formatting via mobile so i may have missed some italics etc #sjejjdkdjd #but other than that pls enjoy the angst #i do plan to post this & the other ask oneshots on AO3 sometime soon #when i can get enough PC time to do the formatting hahaha

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #27

(Time for something a little more lighthearted/found family. Could probably also make this a crack prompt instead.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.

✦

Visitation Rights

When Danny went to list Dani/Ellie as his heir after she'd come back from her years of traveling the world, he was quickly informed that he already had one in line for the thrown.

"What? Since when?!"

The pretentious, floating eyeball looked like he wanted to be anywhere else other than here, providing information to King Phantom, but explained anyway.

"The day you officially achieved royal status, you permanently linked your being to the Infinite Realms. When this happened, however, a child was in the process of being created with the assistance of ectoplasmic runoff that's been leaking into the mortal world for centuries. As a result of your power being incorporated into the Realms at such a time, this human child retained an imprint of your core signature. The Infinite Realms itself has recognized this child as your offspring. Your... other offspring has yet to be recognized in such a way and would therefore be considered your second heir once claimed."

Danny stared at the Observant with wide, blank eyes that were slowly filling with dread and panic.

"Why are you just telling me this now?? My coronation was over a decade ago!" He held his face in his hands and gave a horrified groan at what he just learned.

"If you really wanted that clone as your heir, I'm afraid it's too late to change it-"

Danny's head shot back up with a snarl and furious green eyes.

"That's not what I'm upset about you walking cataracts! Eleven years! I've missed eleven years of this kid's life!! How could you think I-"

At a loss for words, he growled deep in his chest. Deep enough that it echoed throughout the halls and rattled the floors.

"Who is this kid, and where can I find them?"

Once given the information and learning of the child's other parental figures, he gets to work. A few weeks later, he appears in the home office of a well-known billionaire with a stack of papers that he promptly slams onto the desk in front of the startled man. (1)

"I demand visitation rights to our son, Damian Wayne."

✦

(1) Danny actually visited Talia first to get visitation rights. Needless to say, that didn't go very well. He's still got a couple knives floating around in his chest cavity because of it.

(*) ALSO! I'm not sure how this lines up with the DC/Batman timeline. All I figured out is that if Danny waited to be crowned until after he graduated college as an astrophysicist, which take 5 to 7 years, he'd be about 36 years old when he finds out about Damian. Bruce would be about 41, so the age gap is only 5 years. If y'all wanna make this Danny/Bruce, go ahead!

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny is ghost king #damian wayne is his heir through magical infinite realms coronation bs #just go with it #danny feels bad for not being part of damian's life and wants to make up for it #mysterious blue-skinned elven looking monarch shows up in bruce's study and he doesnt know how to feel about it #danny turns out to be the one best equipped to handle damian's knife-happy tendencies because fighting = fun/bonding in ghost society #possible danny/bruce pairing #do they have a special ship name like the others? #would this make damian and dani/ellie siblings? #spirit halloween #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #prompt #sleepy writes stuff

[wren-kitchens]

so shiver, but shiver with a friend

1034 words

the boat is creaking. that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running. but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so. 

this fic exists for two reasons, which are stiff stiffyck's love for qpr elven duo (gem and scar) and also me overthinking scar's wheelchair worldbuilding in the hermitcraft world

this could be a lot better but alas I have been consumed by depression writers block, so honestly i'm just proud this ended up as a finished fic

btw this is one of my first times writing wheelchairs, and whilst it is fantasy so things are gonna be a little different, I would appreciate if someone could tell me if I did something wrong/insensitively!

the boat is creaking.

that's not even remotely abnormal; the boat spends more time creaking than it does staying silent—gem built it so it would do that. sure, it took a lil' getting used to, but it didn’t take long for the rhythmic rocking and gentle creaking to become conducive to sleep, and now gem finds it far more difficult to sleep in silence. after all, silence means something is wrong—the engine rumbles if it's working, the waves splash against the sides of the boat if it's still afloat. a creaky boat means gem is still alive, and the boat is still running.

but this isn’t your average ambient creaking. like she said, gem knows the noises of her little fishing boat like the back of her hand, and this is not a normal creak. this is a suspicious creak. and- sure, that might sound silly, but have you memorised every sound this boat can make? didn’t think so.

anyway, all of this to say that gem is pretty sure someone is on her boat at the middle of the night for what she deeply hopes are not nefarious reasons. although, she cannot think of any reason someone would be sneaking onto her boat at two in the morning—nefarious or otherwise. maybe it's grian trying to lag some things out of her chests? but why on earth he wouldn't do that in the day when she wasn't on board, gem has no clue.

there's a new noise now, one that suggests against the idea of nefarious deeds, but only confuses gem more: a kind of squeaking, like a rubber ring being taken off, or an air mattress being slept on. okay, that doesn’t rule anything out at all, and only serves to make everything far more complicated. who is bringing a rubber something onto her boat at 2am? what is happening here?

overtaken by an amounting curiosity to whatever the hell is actually going on, gem climbs out of bed and pads softly along the floorboards in her slippers to her door. she regrets not installing one of those peepholes, because now she actually has to engage with the something that's happening outside in order to investigate. gem is sure there isn’t anything especially dangerous that could be going on, but she pulls out her sword preemptively as she opens the door slowly to find-

to find..

well, she's not sure what she's found.

"gem!" says a cheery scar, who is. on her boat? how is he on her boat- he uses a wheelchair, and the boat is in the middle of the river.

except- no, hang on, his wheelchair seems to be completely lacking wheels, which gem would argue is the main point of a wheelchair. where the wheels should otherwise be, there are floatation devices—seemingly rubber, which explains the noises gem was hearing earlier—in patented hotguy colours, so she assumes that's intentional. okay, that's- that sure is something.

"you-" gem scrambles for any words to express how bizarre this situation is and fails miserably. "you’re on my boat." is all she manages. void, it is way too late (early?) to be trying to figure this out.

"I am on your boat!" scar says, looking rather proud of himself. it's kind of sweet, to be fair—even as it only adds to the crazy situation. "y’know, I didn't think i’d actually manage it. last time I tried, I sunk."

gem blinks, giving up on making sense of the situation now and letting herself just go with the bizarre. "yeah, I can imagine why scar." she gestures at the rubber wheels (they look a bit like wheels, anyway). "how did you get those?"

"cub helped me!" scar smiles, as if this was a normal conversation to be having. does he even realise how strange this situation is, or is this just normal for him now? "see- you know how my chair has an elytra mode?"

"uh huh."

"well, now it has a swimming mode!" scar says, and he clicks a button on the underside of the seat. within an instant, the floatation devices deflate, replaced swiftly by the regular wheels. "ta da!"

"that- I mean, that's very cool." gem says, and she means it, despite how unenthusiastic she knows she must sound. in her defence, it is the middle of the night. "I just- why are you here?"

something changes in scar's expression immediately, and gem panics a little until scar says meekly, "it- okay, well. now it sounds silly."

gem snorts. "because showing off your inflatable wheelchair at two in the morning is normal?" she tilts her head, and her voice is fond when she says, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

a smile tugs at the corners of scar's lips, and gem feels something warm in her chest to see it. "I know, I know." he hesitates for a second, before giving a huff of exasperation. "I wanted a hug." scar admits, glancing at the floor.

"wh- scar." gem finds herself beginning to smile. "do you really think I would ever turn down a hug from you?"

scars grin is almost shy as he opens his arms, and gem practically falls into them, burying her face in his jacket. man, she has missed hugs from scar; she loves the way they fit together so well, like pieces of a puzzle, perfectly matched to one another. there are very few places where gem feels entirely at home—she's been pretty much everywhere, so she knows what home feels like—and scar is closer to home than any place has ever felt to her.

before she knows it, scar has scooted forward just enough to unbalance her, and she lands on top of him. gem scoffs playfully as scar laughs to himself, holding her closer.

"I can't hug you properly if you’re stood up, y’know." scar mumbles into her hair.

gem rolls her eyes, fond as anything. "well, i’m not complaining." she's quiet for a moment, letting herself appreciate the moment—breathing it all in. "I love you." gem murmurs.

scar squeezes her, and gem can almost hear his smile when he says, "I love you too."

#hermitfic #wren writes #gtwscar #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #hermitcraft #please don't tag as ship <3 #elven duo #hermitblr #I can’t figure out any more tags tell me if I need something else GKDHS

[eldrtchmn]

🌑

#art #my art #oc #original character #elf #elven #dark art #dark fantasy #eldrtchmn #here they are!! one of my oldest oc #I love coming up with a story with my elves but I can't write so it's gonna stay there forever I'm afraid

[spacebarbarianweird]

Elven for Astarion fanfiction

I absolutely love the idea of Astarion using Elven words and phrases

Here are some useful phrases and words you can use for fics. I specifally chose what you might find useful, for more terms you can check the sources.

Source (wiki)

Source (dictionary)

Phrases

Ai armiel telere maenen hir. - You hold my heart forever.

Aillesel Seldarie - May the Seldarine Save Us.

Al Hond Ebrath, Uol Tath Shantar En Tath Lalala Ol Hond Ebrath – A True Friend, As The Trees And The Water Are True Friends.

Besthunit Nenle – ‘Hurry Up Slowly’ (Eastern Lythari Dialect)

Bwaelan Dro - "It's Good to be Alive", a religious hymn of celebration.

Chu Set – ‘Hold Calm/Calm Down’ (Eastern Lythari Dialect).

Dilit – Be Quiet (Eastern Lythari Dialect).

Es'Caerta – Deeply Emotional Plea Ending A Prayer (like Amen).

Gys Sa Salen – Give Me a Drink/I Need A Drink.

Maethe - maybe.

Ikwe - Get back!

Iorwe - Step aside!

Oloth elgg ssussun - Darkness slays light.

Seldarine! – Gods! (Expression of Exasperation).

Uluvathae (pronounced: /ˈuːluːˈvɔːθeɪ/ Oo-loo-VAW-thay) - "[May your] fortune bring you joy". An informal greeting or parting used amongst individuals which enjoyed each other's company. Used amongst close friends, it was either seen as an insult, or as a warning that a third party was listening.

Words

aethen - "others", modern elven slang for non-elves.

alun - transgender.

amastacia - star flower.

ar - sun.

arael – heart.

aravae - great joy.

ardavanshee – Elven Juvenile Delinquent.

arivae – sunlight.

a’sum -  daughter.

avae - joy.

avae’ess - joy bringer.

arkhlavae - lovemaking.

bhin - young human male (slang).

biir - "garbage", used as an insult against those of half-elven and human heritage.

calann - cup (one’s hands, to hold).

daoin – star.

damia - a term of endearment directed to sweethearts or children.

ebrath - friend.

essraul – enthusiastic Slaying.

e'sum – son.

etriel - noble female elf (in bloodline, character, or both).

evae - love, absence of malice.

filliken – open skirt (Prostitute).

hond ebrath - true friend(s)

immaea - familial love, loyalty to kin and family.

immeeira - act or demonstration of love (deed, testimonial or honour, not lovemaking).

ithlil - lily.

ivaebhin - boy filled with brightness.

kerym - blade (as in blade made of steel), sword.

liyan - homosexual male (slang).

lorkh - Savage Butchers who Lost Their Elven Nature Long Ago Through Such Behavior.

mor - darkness, the true death.

nanta - destiny.

nias – agreement.

nikym – dagger.

nor - love, passion.

N'Tel'Quess - "Not-people". A derogatory term elves use to describe non-elves.

o'si - mother.

o'su - father.

penaal - battlepoet (bard).

piir - treasure.

re - bear.

ru - dream.

rua - star.

saece - crossdresser.

savalir - murderer.

sha'Quessir - elf-friend.

Sildur - "at rest after changing". Referred to an animal, insect, or plant having reached maturity after passing through a life-cycle of changes. Was later borrowed by Common as a term for transgender individuals.

solicallor - warm light of the sun.

srendaen - beautiful, only applied to things of natural beauty not to people.

srinna - One Who Tests Limits and Establishes New Boundaries.

talibund - the veiled one. referring to the creature whose future is unclear and cannot be divined.

taran - gift.

Tel'Quessir - the collective name elves use for their race. translates into common to mean, "The People".

tham - to be close to.

thor - vow, promise.

vaarnar - evil entity or sentient being.

vaendaan-naes - reborn in life's bright struggles.

vaendin-thiil - fatigued by life's dark trials.

veluthe – beautiful.

vyshaan - power-mad (derogatory).

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #elven #elven language #forgotten realms #dnd #astarion fanfiction #fic writing

[undercat-overdog]

Ok, I said in this post that I wanted to talk about POV and what different characters would use for their species; I've been thinking about it for a while, because it's important to me to portray Elves as thinking of themselves as the default and I like having them think of mortals as different, as a way of worldbuilding and establishing POV. It's the same basic principle as why I think the War of the Elves and Sauron is a Númenórean name, not an Elvish one.

In brief: man and woman can and should be used to refer to Elves when writing from an elven POV.

I think about markedness a lot when I think about writing generally, and one of the concepts is that there are things that are unmarked, the standard, the default, the normal, the unexceptional. To an elf, the default species is elf, not human or dwarf or ent. I want to write from that POV - to an elf, humans are different, even alien. They're other. Elves are us, humans are them.

I, meanwhile, am writing in English, and man and woman are common words, the most "unmarked" words for the concepts; they're standard (e.g., woman sounds more normal than female human). Something like elf woman or female elf is more marked. Why would an elf use a more marked term to refer to their own race? Using she-elf or whatever for Elves but woman for humans uses more marked words (more uncommon, more specific, etc) for elves than it does for humans - but for elves, it should be the opposite! Elves are unmarked! Elves are default! Humans are different. If an elf is talking about someone, the default assumption would be that the someone is an elf, so if they're not an elf, it would be specified.

So when writing from the POV of an elven character, I would use woman for a female elf and mortal woman for a female human (if necessary to disambiguate). Man, meanwhile, means "Human" when it's capitalized and male when it's not. (Now, if I were writing from a human or dwarven pov, I would use elven woman, if necessary to specify that she's an elf.)

But, you say, what about using Elvish words? Well, first of all, I hate it. We're not writing in Quenya. English is great, and so are the other human languages people use to write fanfic. But that is a subjective matter of taste and you may disagree! Nothing wrong with that, de gustibus, etc.

More objectively, nér and nis are not words specific to Elves; nér means all males, so using it for specifically elf men and not human and dwarven men is incorrect (to quote Elfdict, "Nér can be used regardless of species and so is equally applicable to male Elves, Men, or Dwarves, but is unlikely to be used of male animals, for which the word [ᴹQ.] hanu is more applicable."") (Sindarin is a little more complicated, given the more complex out-of-universe changes, but it too has race-neutral terms for man and woman.)

Lastly, Tolkien himself uses man and woman to refer to non-human species. He calls Galadriel and Finduilas women, and Aredhel is "taller than a woman's wont." Earendil is a man (though he is not a Man) and Curufin is a horseman and there are lots and lots of kinsmen and kinswomen. Hobbits meanwhile, in Appendix F, have "women" and "man-children" (Tolkien is talking about how Hobbits name babies, thus the children part, but I like to think he's getting one more dig in at Pippin).

#meta #linguistics #writing #imo it's breaking pov to use 'man and woman' only for humans when writing from an elven or dwarven pov #the only time Man/Men means human is when it's capitalized #thanks to polu and aipi for examples of tolkien using 'man' and 'woman' to refer to non-humans #also man and women are great! i'm not going to abandon such useful words

[shadowtraveled]

this is a largely meaningless observation but, based on the fleki uniform demonstration comic, mithrun seems to wear the default style of the canary uniform, probably because he has no desire to personalize it or preference for how to do so, etc. when he does seem to pick his own clothes, though, they don’t look super in-line with what we’re shown of elven clothing styles in his region: high collars look like they’re fairly popular with elves in general, but out of uniform he tends to be a lot more covered up than everyone else—long sleeves, long pants, boots rather than sandals, and he dresses that way both prior to getting eaten and after the events of the series. anyway it’s kind of cute that after everything that happened to him, someone cared enough to remember what his clothing preferences used to be.

#sorry my head is full of him #dungeon meshi spoilers #just mentioned. just a bit #dungeon meshi #mithrun #he’s like a case study in the problems that would Of Course arise in a society with the standards and values we frequently see in elves #in fantasy which is very refreshing because again What is with fantasy writers writing their elven societies Like That and going no they can #be weird elitists they’re hot and they’re kind of right. and leaving it at that. i mean i know why that happens but. anyway #if elves are going to be elfing in that way it’s so much more interesting to see how that manifests and affects individuals within that #culture. this was a large part of essek’s appeal to me also lmfaondns and it is why i can’t stop giving my dnd characters elf ancestry. if #you’re going to make them be fucked up let me think about the consequences !!!! but anyway yeah no mithrun gets to be on my mind 24/7 #because he Is the consequences. and it’s very good but also i am so so sad

[fistfuloflightning]

”You said the Vala in black is a mourner?” Maeglin looked up from reading through a handful of Salgant’s harp scores. A conversation from when the Lord of the Harp had first befriended a grieving , freshly orphaned young elf. When Maeglin had first learned more of the Valar than the brief words Aredhel could spare in Eol’s absence.

“Nienna is the Weeper, yes. She comforts those who have died. It is why she was invoked at the funeral.” There were lots of things Maeglin did not know about Noldorin customs, much of which Aredhel had simply neglected to teach him. But Salgant did not ridicule him for his ignorance, instead treating his never ending questions with patience. Even now he stopped his hands to give Maeglin’s question his full attention. “Though she is not the one to call the fëa once it has left the hroa. It is the Doomsman of the Valar who does that. Though there are those who simply refuse the call.” Salgant dropped his attention to the lathe before him, the mask he was shaping. The scent of cut cedar warmed the air. “Those who might not heed the call to Mandos, those who wish to remain Houseless—to say nothing of those who wish not to leave this land for one they’ve never seen.”

A surge of fear had Maeglin’s fingers almost tearing apart the parchment in his hands. He watched the older elf with wide eyes. Might not heed… “Will…will I be able to see Emel after she is reborn?”

But Salgant merely nodded as if there were no question as to Aredhel’s decisions. “I am sure of it. Should you die here—and I pray upon the grace of the Valar that you do not—you would also be called to the Halls of Mandos, where all the dead receive comfort and healing.”

Something tightened in Maeglin’s chest and he once more felt the prickle of tears in his eyes. He whipped his head away, ostensibly to examine the nearby masks Salgant had nearly finished for an upcoming festival, all tassels and gold and richly layered paints. “Is it…peaceful? In the Halls?”

Salgant gently set down the wooden mask he’d been shaping. He looked out the window at the plaza below, but Maeglin felt as if he was looking with those kind eyes at him. “I would imagine it is so. A place where you can lay your burden down. Where all pain and hurt is soothed away. At least, I would hope so.”

Maeglin remembered belatedly that Salgant’s brother died upon the Ice. Perhaps Salgant missed him just as much as Maeglin missed his mother. He dropped his watering gaze to the music scores in his lap.

A hand rested on the top of his head, patting softly. For a heartbreaking moment he could pretend it was Aredhel’s hand stroking his hair, as was her wont. But she was gone. And he wouldn’t see her unless the Ban was lifted and they could sail across to a world he’d never even dreamed of. She was so far away and Maeglin felt every inch of that distance.

So when Salgant pulled him into a hug, he went gratefully.

Snippet from an unpublished fic where Salgant adopts Maeglin

#I love me some found family #maeglin finally finds a father figure worth a damn and salgant just adds one more kid to his large family (by elven standards) #the silmarillion #maeglin #salgant #lords of gondolin #unapologetic maeglin apologist #found family #silm headcanons #tolkien art #my art #my writing

[hush-writes-preg]

Spooky Season Day #24

Out of all of our captives, I think you're my favorite.

It might be because of the delicate elven looks that leave all of your kind looking fuckably feminine, even if you're technically male. Or it might be because of the defiant fire that's never left your eyes, even after months of captivity. Or maybe it's because that, no matter how much you protest or swear at us, none of the other elves scream so eagerly in the midst of taking a thick orc cock as you do. I've seen the way you look after a rough fuck, eyes glazed with pleasure and drool running down your chin, while our mingled cum trickles down the insides of your thighs.

Admit it. You like being reduced to nothing more than a breeding slave.

That's what you are, you know. A dirty, orc-loving, breeding bitch. No matter how much you might want to deny it, the massive belly hanging at your waist is proof enough-- packed full of our green-skinned spawn. I can't wait to see how big you'll get, until you're finally squatting and grunting in the middle of a birthing hut, pushing out our young.

But don't worry, little elf: my brothers and I will make sure to keep you knocked up for years to come.

(A Spooky Season story.)

#hush writes preg #pregnancy kink #nonhuman pregnancy #fantasy pregnancy #spooky season pregnancy #ftm pregnancy #male pregnancy #elven pregnancy #dubcon #degradation kink #orc pregnancy #monster fucking #monsterfucker #monster kink #orc breeding

[loveroped]

a bit late for my secret Santa, it was interesting to try and come up with something for them!

@stiffyck hope you like it!

It is pretty short tho

wordcount: 1023

She crossed her arms, now wet from her hands up till her elbows, and huffed. “Rude,” she said, but her smile was peeking through the words.  This has happened many times before, and she finds she's never annoyed at Scar more than once. Although she'll definitely need a new bag. “You have flowers in here!” He exclaims, holding up a small array of flowers she'd picked typed up with a small rope she found laying around her house. She opened her mouth to respond but before she could the flowers were shoved into her hands.

Gem sits herself down on the rocks and skims her eyes over the water. The waves crashed again the rocks in a gentle rhythm she's familiarized herself with. 

She takes off her shoes and her socks and lays them next to her, before letting her feet dip in the water. It reached her ankles at lowest and her shins at highest. She rolls up her pant legs to meet her knees. 

She glances over the water again,  searching for something—something miniscule at most probably.  There's not much she should expect. She spared the waters one more glimpse, to see if there was something out of the ordinary, something to catch her eye.

When she received nothing she frowned slightly, even if she wasn't really that upset. It felt similar to the first few times she found herself sitting here. She's not sure it's ever been different.

The gentle sound of the waves rings through her ears, a gentle song with the noise of the breeze. She leaned forward slightly and took a breath. The air tasted of salt and berries.

She whistled. Not a song, or a rhythm stuck in her head. A single note pulled out over time with no direct change in it. And it didn't sound the prettiest, compared to other stuff she's sung or hummed. Not compared to the songs on the radio—but it did the job. It didn't need to be pretty to call out to someone.

And it worked. It worked this once, it worked before, and it'll work the upcoming years after.

A moment it took, but no more than a minute. From a dark form underneath the waters that drew closer by the second, to a head popped up just before her legs.

Only above his nose was visible. He stared  at her with a look that could almost seem threatening if seen by the wrong eyes, but Gem's been here many times before. It's curious, waiting. Gem stared back, putting on a gentle competition of who would break the contact, or who'd speak first. She smiled, even if she tried not to.

He blinked, once, twice.

“What do you have?” Scar says, and it startles Gem for a second, the insistence he drags in his voice, but it quickly turns into a laugh, one that leaves her giggling.

“Some people,” she starts, turning around to grab her bag behind her “would say hello first when seeing someone.”

She puts the bag in her lap, and giggles at the way it immediately catches Scar’s attention. He swims up even closer towards hair, getting more and more out of the water.

“I'm not people,” he says. And Gem can't exactly argue with that. She's not sure where merfolk fall on the spectrum of things that are defined as people or human or whatever the other options are.

He's staring at her bag, and Gem considers for a moment if she really wants her bag to get soaked again—and that she might have to buy a new one. And truly she could've just taken the stuff out of her bag, given it one by one, and kept her stuff dry. 

But she didn't really have a chance, because by the time she fully thought about it the bag was taken from her hands in a swift movement.  One that had her tumbling forward just slightly, gasping as she attempted to catch herself.

“Scar!” She yelled out when she finally caught her balance. And Scar glanced up at her once, rummaged through the bag, then looked up at her again, and smiled.

She crossed her arms, now wet from her hands up till her elbows, and huffed. “Rude,” she said, but her smile was peeking through the words.  This has happened many times before, and she finds she's never nnoyed at Scar more than once.

Although she'll definitely need a new bag.

“You have flowers in here!” He exclaims, holding up a small array of flowers she'd picked typed up with a small rope she found laying around her house.

She opened her mouth to respond but before she could the flowers were shoved into her hands.

She looked from the flowers, to Scar. He was staring at her with a determined look. Scar had a tendency to believe she could read his mind whenever he wanted to. And no matter how many times she told him she couldn't, he'd insist on it.

(“You humans gotta have something special.”)

But Gem was good at guessing, luckily. And Scar was very predictable.

“You want these in your hair?” “Yes.” “Can you say please?” “No.”

She sighed, and something fond coursed through her limbs. “Okay okay, turn around.”

And Scar did, laying his head in her lap like he's done a million times before, and Gem never could find it in herself to mind the cold sinking through the wet spot on her legs.

She absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair. His hair was different from most humans she'd seen. It looked and felt more similar to seaweed, or perhaps tentacles, then it did hair. The texture never failed to surprise her, it was smooth, and slightly sticky.

But in her opinion it was way easier to work with than normal, or her own, hair. She quite liked doing it, if she was being honest. 

“What's this?” Scar asks, holding up something small and purple. Gem squinted her eyes to look at it. 

She picked it out of Scar’s hand, “It's a grape.” and threw it in her mouth.

Scar turned around, glaring at her. “You thief!” He said, pointing at her. 

“Says the one that took my bag,” she mumbled, leaning back. 

“There are more grapes in the bag, you'll survive!” She laughed, giving him a light shove.

He grumbled something unintelligible, before turning back around and laying back on her lap. Although slightly different than before, making a new wet spot on her legs. 

She'd be cold walking home, she knows. She runs her hand through his hair—or whatever it was. The air smelled of salt, citrus, and grapes. She couldn't find herself to mind being soaked.

#roped rambles #gtws #geminitay #writing ropes #Gonna add more tags in a bit #mermaid scar #fluff #elven duo fluff #I think #tags are hard #elven duo

[running-with-kn1ves]

Soooo since you asked for comfy requests, my comfort character of yours is Cirdan, and I would love covering his scars with little kisses and telling him how handsome he is cause I know dude has to be insecure about that and he would combust on spot

I know its cliché but I enjoy simple pleasures

A/N: Naur I love the little(big) elf guy and the softness of this idea. I wish I did it more detailed justice but here's my drabble take. UGHH I LOVEd how sweet it was it makes me all gushy inside.

CW: None! Fluff and comfort all the way through buddy

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“You don’t have to be alone, you know.” Ice-tipped toes of yours brushed the wood panels lining the floor, an electric chill running down your back as the wind from the slightly ajar window perused inside. Your husband always liked it cold, but lately you couldn’t stand it. It was getting too cold outside. Maybe it was because you grew up in suffocatingly warm homes with seasons that hardly shifted, you didn’t have the ability to stand below freezing temperatures like elves did year-round. 

Cirdan gently turned his head at your voice, softening his pursed brow as he saw you there shrinking into yourself, leaning a shoulder against the door frame. It didn’t help that all you had to wear were these thin cotton pajamas, white and hip-fitting to show the color of your skin underneath when put under the right light. It made him gaze at you, when all that illuminated the shared bedroom was muted-orange oil lamps and the shine of the moon decorating the floor in a thin silver. It was strange, to be stared at. There was a certain sadness in the elf’s eyes, but it seemed to morph into a relief when that greyish green bore into you, taking in all that you were, only to run back to your eyes and give the softest stare. 

You walked to him as he gave a short, croaky hum. “Just cleaning these. Already finished up dinner.” He said simply, in that short way he always seemed to speak when he was down. 

You looked over his shoulder to see what he concentrated so painfully on, peering at the delicate pair of battle sickles he hasn’t used since… well, before you got married.

You put a gentle hand on his bare shoulder, musing at the thin and thick pinkish-brown scars along his back. 

“I don’t know how you can wear nothing in this weather.” You say with a shiver, sitting down on the spot directly behind the elf.

You practically heard him smile, head still down-turned to look at the sharp steel between the tan cloth he used to rub against them. Your fingers traced the scars you could touch, the long one crossing over his shoulder, the thick few stuck between the blades of his back, which seemed to twitch methodically under your touch. 

“S’because you aren’t used to the cold. We sleep in the snow.” Cirdan hummed, “we” meaning his old elven clan. 

He grabbed your hand all of a frightful sudden, placing it on the clean and untouched part of his neck not covered by starlight hair or scars. It was so soft and gentle, one of the few places Cirdan had yet to be wounded. 

“Hm?” You let through closed lips, sitting on your knees to bring your face up close to his from behind. “Don’t want me touching your cuts?” 

“Scars,” He corrected, like it was an ugly word. “Wouldn’t you rather feel something soft?”

He turned just slightly to look at you, eyes shifting to see your face only a nose touch away. Your hands rested on his warm shoulders, feeling them lift just slightly as his chest rose. 

“Nope.” You respond, nudging against Cirdan’s temple as you nuzzled into his hair and flattened ear rim. “I’d rather feel you. Wanna memorize every scar and stitch.” 

Your hands slide to his back, feeling the ridges of indents in his skin as they fall. “Mmh, its fun to touch them; you don’t feel like anyone else.” 

You soak in the warm that pulses from his body, a different heat from the sharp sheets and iced floor. He smelled akin to the grassy scent that whaffed in from the window, a slight musk about him that came from his body glazing over with its natural smell after a bath had rubbed it off not long ago. Oh how you loved it, loved how flesh-like it was, reminding you that there was a living, breathing person by your side, his heart beating through his back and his body altering at every new spot you claimed with your fingers. 

Cirdan stopped from cleaning the sickle blades, shoulders hunched as his elbows rested on his knees. He was silent, moping a little over how much you stared, a nagging thought making him want to put his shirt back on. 

You snaked your arms around to the front of his chest, giving the best reach of a back hug that you could, bringing your legs to wrap around his warm flank. Your cold feel seemed to make him jolt as you clung onto him like a baby to its mama, burying your face against the deep indent of his shoulder. 

“But, wouldn’t you rather--” 

“Shh.” You hushed, fingers brushing over the invisible scars from his chest that you could only memorize by touch. “If you keep worrying I’m going to have to kiss each and every scratch on you.” 

You pressed noisy smooches to the teensy bits on his shoulder, running your way to his bicep and armpit, showing no sign of stopping. 

“Alright alright,” He tittered, putting a hand over one of yours that cupped his chest. 

Your fingers rubbed over each single change in flesh, feeling the softer ridges of his nipples, running to the dip of his chest, caressing the deep uneven ‘X’ scar against his collar bone. 

“Don’t ever try to change them for me, pretty boy.” You mumbled to his ear, playfully kissing from its tip down to his cheek. “I want your scars and your bits and pieces just how they are. I want all of it.” 

You rested your smooshed face against his sharp jaw, letting it dig into your cheek as you kept your nose nearly nestled under his chin. 

Cirdan was still, an arm grabbing one of the thighs that wrapped around him, the other entertwining his fingers with the hands that held the fat of his chest. He feared if he moved, the moment would break, that you would suddenly pull away and be gone forever. He wanted desperately to push you deeper against him, to make it so you were both smothered with his warmth, that he enveloped every part of your body to keep it safe. There would be no piece of you undiscovered, and you would fill in the gaps of him that were missing. 

“What do you do to me…” He mumbles, hoping you’ll lift your head as he turns his. You do, curious. But he looks partially down, a faded eye following his good one as silver-toned lashes made his honey-soaked eyes look like they were covered with snow. 

Cirdan doesn’t let the time slip away from him, pressing his warmed lips against yours with an inward tilt. His nose fits snuggly against the side of yours, forehead pushing forward as you lean into him. The elf drops the sickles to the floor, aside from his bare feet. 

He wraps the fullness of his hand around your thigh, trying to smush it deeper against his skin. But the break away from your mouth is too long for him, he moves in again. The longing in his chest he feels, when he senses that desperation to kiss you, a genuine ache of withdrawal when he doesn’t feel that cold cheek against his or the dampened warmth of your tongue. 

But you avoid his lips, slipping away the hand of yours that he held to his chest. You rested it to his temple, thumb against his cheek. As cirdan moved in expecting your lips, he found your chin instead, your own mouth covering the usually hidden eye he kept away. You wished he had the confidence to leave it visible; baby steps. 

The warm wet poke of a tongue darted between fleshy lips against your chin and jaw, your own mouth opening just slightly. You felt the warm cavern of his eye, eyelashes touching your upper lip as your open mouth pressed a deep kiss to his blind eye, Cirdan freezing as you moved. You lingered there for a moment, pausing to give another gently pressing kiss to the scarred skin below his eye. 

You moved away, a bit nervous from how Cirdan’s body was suddenly so stiff. But the moment you moved away, he melted. His shoulders slumped looking up at you with slightly parted lips. He was at your mercy, anything you told him or commanded of him, he’d do without a thought of conscience or hesitation. 

There was a gentle drugged look in his gaze, desperate for any little affection you would so graciously bestow upon him. 

“So beautiful…” You hummed, looking into the droopy pool of smoke-green he stared back with. 

If it was possible, the elf sinked even further into your touch, letting your hands hold his firm cheeks as you planted small kiss after kiss onto the bridge of his nose, to the corner of his stilled lips. But he could not take staying still for so much longer, diving for your moving mouth as you were about to kiss the other side. But he caught you in a smooth mouth to mouth, opened lips begging you to come to him. 

You followed, letting your jaw go slack, allowing cirdan’s mouth to fit snuggly against yours, like a puzzle piece of warm air breathing into you. 

Your fingers tangled into the elf’s hair that seemed to surround him, listening to the needy groans that left his adored mouth as both his hands held your thighs around his flank, flexing his fingers into your skin like a cat, wanting you deeper, closer. But for now, he’d settle for this, letting you agonizingly sweeten him up with each syrupy kiss and touch that was like a buzzing pleasure, making his heart lurch with desire.

#kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #x reader #self insert #fiction #elf x reader #male elf x reader #comfort #reverse comfort #elf x human #story prompts #drabble #affection #male elf #elven #x you #xreader #elf oc x reader #comfort x reader #comfort fics #original fiction

[maironsbigboobs]

re: elf servants

I think generally there are servants in royal/noble households simply for practical reasons and they generally fall into 2 categories: specialised servants (think, stewards and messengers and scribes, masters of horses or kennels, that kind of thing) and servants who help with the upkeep of the household (cleaning, repairs, cooking and also the apprentices and assistants of specialised servants)

specialised servants are probably quite prestigious roles and fields of industry in their own right, and they are considered full members of a household, and probably are closely linked to the person they serve - it's as much a political and social statement to be Finwe's chief scribe as it is an economic one

but the second category are more associated with the house than the family living in it - for example, Finwe's palace in Tirion would function both as a home and a diplomatic and administrative centre, it would be impossible for him to rule and keep up with chores himself. But Fingolfin's personal home would probably not have any full-time servants - when there more people than usual to feed or house then professionals might be hired, but for the most part I imagine the day to day is done by the family (made possible by the fact elves sleep and eat less than humans)

IRL domestic service (at least in the 18th century) often functioned as a kind of prep stage for adult life (for women in particular, but gender is probably not as big a factor for elves) and I could definitely see this in Valinor - domestic servants being 80% elves between 50-100 who haven't chosen an apprenticeship or similar in another field who are earning extra money to set up their own households, getting experience outside of the family, meeting others in their own ae cohort, learning independence etc. It's a job that comes with the offer of room and board + the wages a king/prince/lord can provide. Not glamorous, but not terrible.

The other 20% is made up of professional servants - experienced elves who are genuinely like the work and are contracted workers as much as a builder or gardener might be. Some of them might be independent and others part of businesses set up by other elves who are really into cooking/cleaning etc.

In Beleriand the situation (for the exiles at least) is probably very different, though I think there would be attempts to adapt the system - but there aren't as many households that need servants and there aren't as many young elves.

#i confess i very much enjoy making ocs who are bg characters and servants are perfect for this #made my own post because i could not fit this in the tags LMAO #also the amount of labour needed to run a pre industrial household is HUGE #but elves generally get around this by having a population that is 90% adult and having magic #and having the time for anyone to become vastly skilled in their field in a lifetime #so things like food and clothing production is almost always communal and in the hands of elves who are REALLY into that specific area #the magic being relevant here because elf magic preserves - elven clothes won't wear out elf food doesn't go off etc #(or at least not as easily as human food/clothes) #i prefer to write elf societies that only visually mirror human ones - to an outsider it looks like a hierarchy of lord and servants #but the dynamic is very different #but that is just my preference #silm meta #not really a meta i just need to be able to find this post on my blog lol #long post #this is one of my fave topics hence the rambling

[welcomingdisaster]

i love love love elven service dogs as a concept but i feel like there's untapped potential for all sorts of wacky service animals as part of the whole "communing with nature" thing

give me elves that lost their eyes in angband with hawks perching on their shoulder... baby idril, before anyone can make her silverfoot prosthetics, riding a doe as graceful as she is... give me elves with frostbitten fingers after the helcaraxë enlisting the help of raccoons with their fine work

#i'm writing a series of fics about elven healing and swirling things around in the mind palace #lena speaks #the silmarillion #idril

[keicordelle]

I really, really want to see what the elves of the group are getting up to while everyone else is asleep. Trance only take 4 hours to gain the benefit of a long rest, so you've got a whole extra 4 where Astarion and Halsin or Minthara are just chilling together, hanging out and chatting, I guess? Add in an elven Tav/Durge and you've got yourself a party!

So just what are they doing with all that spare time?

#I'm definitely going to write this at some point #i need all the elven fluff in my life #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #halsin #minthara #bg3 elf #elf tav #elves #~k

[flowercrown-bard]

Autumn had never been Geralt's favourite season.

Brown leaves, foggy days, hungry monsters.

Cold nights made Geralt dream of going home to Kaer Morhen, where he could embrace his brothers and fall asleep in a pile of furs, laid out in front of a fire.

Despite having winter to look forward to, this year, he found the thought wasn't as comforting as it used to be.

Every time he tried to imagine coming home, he was reminded of the one thing he wouldn't have with him at the Keep.

Flighty as he was, his bard always stayed with him through autumn, warming him in the night and making the short days a little brighter.

Geralt didn't want to think about watching him turn away to head to Oxenfurt, once it got too cold for him on the Path.

Hell, it probably already was too cold.

If Geralt had been less selfish, he would have told Jaskier to go find a court to stay, weeks ago.

Jaskier deserved to sleep in a warm bed and eat food that wasn't cooked with what little seasoning Geralt carried with him.

Kaer Morhen had warm beds, he thought before he could stop himself, and Jaskier would love Vesemir's cooking.

Letting out a low growl, Geralt shook his head to get rid of those thoughts.

"Must you always grunt like that?" Jaskier asked with a fond roll of his eyes, looking up from the golden leaves he had been collecting from the ground.

Next to him, Roach huffed, apparently agreeing with him.

Of course she would betray Geralt like that.

Puffing himself up like a bird, Jaskier put his hands on his hips and turned to Geralt fully with a teasing glint in his eyes.

Quietly, Geralt thought that this was how he wanted to remember him, when the nights grew long and cold.

"Really, this might be our last month together this year and you don't even answer me in full sentences when I tell you I found leaves in the colour of your eyes."

Scrunching up his nose, Jaskier shook his head.

Tentatively, Geralt came closer, plucked the leaves out of Jaskier's hand and took his now free hand in his.

Unfortunately, his mind stopped working as soon as they touched.

"Visit more places with me," he blurted out clumsily, unable to get his thoughts in order, "before it gets too cold to travel."

When Jaskier only stared at him, Geralt swallowed thickly and continued.

"Xin'trea is supposed to be nice this time of year, or Beauclair or the coast or...," his voice dropped to a whisper, "or Kaer Morhen."

"Yes!" Jaskier said before Geralt had time to take the words back, “I would love to stay with you."

Zoning in on the way Jaskier's lips parted in a brilliant smile, Geralt dropped the golden leaves, letting them tumble to the ground, so his hand was free to cup Jaskier's cheek and pull him into a kiss.

#Alphabet game #Geraskier #Geralt #Jaskier #Thank goodness for the elven name for cintra #That x is really giving me trouble #Witcher #My writing

[the-likeable-wizard-mack]

Modern Fantasy Monsters: Monster Roommates!

Werewolves having to disclaim to their human/ non werewolf roommate that they get a bit cranky when it gets close towards the full moon so the roommate can prepare for it.

Vampire's who are almost always home during the day due to the sun so they can let you into the apartment/ dorm. Also going out at night with the vampire at night since they might know were all the fun night-life spots are.

Rooms that have a mimic living there for a while only to be discovered by a collage student who accidently almost smothers the poor thing with a pillow on the collage furniture in the dorm. They sorta have truce were the collage student will allow the mimic to stay only if they can keep their shared space well guarded.

Elves who's room smells completely like a forest and morning dew. They use diffusers to make their room and the shared space smell like you're walking through a dense wooded area to make it feel more homely.

Mermaid, naga and centaur accommodating rooms that have areas were they can rest their bodies and have more space. Similarly centaurs having stable like doors rather than regular doors.

Ghosts of collage students who have been living haunting in the dorms for a long time giving small tidbits of advice to incoming students who are moving in on stuff they've seen. Such as Ghost: "They never check for stuff under the bed man. You a can hide your stash there." Human: "Are you sure? I think they might be suspicious." Ghost: "You just gotta be sneaky with it. Like really sneaky with it. I snuck in so much shit and I turned out fine." Human: "....But, you're a ghost." Ghost: "Oh, uhh...died for different reason

Demons who place a pentagram portal to the underworld in the basement right next to the laundry machine of their shared small home. The roommate realized that there was a portal in the laundry room when they saw a hellish monster ripping up their bedsheets.

Angels who bless every single part of their shared room plus their roommates room so that they always at least feel a bit warm and fuzzy on the inside whenever they feel sad. They're a great roommate despite their feathers getting everywhere.

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