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harrysweasleys · 2 years

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bringer of bets and drinks // l.g

summary: hi!!! can i please request a one shot with legolas where it’s after helms deep and you’re at the party with the rohirrim and everything and he’s jealous of how close you are with eomer? Thank you!!!

warnings: alcohol, blood, mentions of death

word count: 2.7k

a/n: aaaaaaah this was so fun. also i rewrote it like seventeen times because i had no clue what direction i wanted this to go in so i hope i made the right call and that you guys love it!! ALSO this is a “haldir lives AU”<3 (gif credit to @thrcnduils)

[i do not give permission for my work to be responded on any other platform.]

“By my count, there were at least seventy!”

“I never thought I’d ever use a shield as a weapon, but did this one ever come in handy!”

As you walked through the grand hall where the celebratory feast was taking place, your ears naturally picked up on the stories that were being told all around you. Men who had risked their lives to save others, young boys who had perished and some that had survived.

Helm’s Deep had been brutal. Were it not for Gandalf and the Rohirrim, you doubted Aragorn and Théoden’s will would have lasted the night. Your heart had endured a lot, but the fear that was struck in you from the moment the battle began to the moment you saw that Legolas was alive and well, that was a feeling you wished you’d never have to experience again.

He had promised — sworn to you — that he’d be back. That you’d get to see him again. You knew how elves kept their words to their dying breath. And you just hoped to the Valar that this wasn’t going to be the case.

Lucky for you, it wasn’t. You had practically charged at him when you saw him afterwards, not even caring about the smeared blood and dirt on his face. He was alive.

People were celebrating left and right, drinking ale and telling stories of lost loved ones. Some were thankful for the victory, choosing to look at the lighter side of events; one victory closer to defeating the shadow of the world. And some held trauma in their eyes — trauma that you strongly believed young children shouldn’t have to endure.

And some people chose to have drinking competitions.

“Is this a good idea? Gimli, I’m sure you’re aware of how the House or Oropher handles their liquor. Is this one you think you’re going to win?” you asked, seated across the table from the dwarf. Legolas, off to your left, held a small smile on his face as he stared at the barrel of ale. Honestly, you had no shred of doubt that he could drink the whole barrel and not feel a thing. And it would be ridiculously impressive to watch.

Eomer chuckled from next to you, already ready to start pouring as much as he could for the two competitors across from him. Despite how awful his last few days had been, Eomer was in quite a chipper mood tonight. He had survived as well, with his uncle and sister here to celebrate with him too.

“Bring it on, then,” Gimli ignored you, “I, tonight, am representing the pride of all dwarves.”

You turned to Eomer, giving him a small shrug. He gave you one back and grabbed two of the closest mugs he could find, pouring each of them a full glass of ale.

Peering over at Legolas, you gave him a reassuring smile. It was really not the time to notice, but you scanned your eyes across his features. His eyes were soft, hair brushed and smooth. His silk robe caught the light of the dancing flames in the room, flickering and swirling in the movement of the crowd. He looked too perfect for someone who had just survived battle.

“Alright, no pauses, no spills,” Eomer handed both men their drinks, leaning against the barrel next to you.

You held back a chuckle as Legolas stared at his, raising an eyebrow. You knew he was used to his father’s fancy wine – in fact, Legolas probably grew up on wine – but ale? It wasn’t really his thing. He took a sniff from the cup and pursed his lips, probably already dreading this whole thing.

“And no regurgitation!” Gimli muttered before he brought the drink to his lips and began to chug right away. The sounds he was making were quite gross, and you had to hold back a laugh at the foam that was already collecting on his beard.

“You’ve got this, Legolas,” you turned to the elf, who hadn’t taken a sip yet, “If you can slide down a staircase on a shield, I think you can beat a dwarf to a little drinking game.” You shot him a quick wink, and he let out a chuckle, bringing the cup closer to his lips.

And with that, the game was on.

The two of them were drinking at a nearly dizzying pace, and you had completely lost track of how long it had been or how many pints they had each gone through by now. People around you were gathering, laughing and raising their glasses whenever one of them would finish another. Eomer was kept rather occupied by the constant refilling, to the point where you could only really keep basic conversation.

That was, until…

“Bets?” His voice was close to your ear as he handed Legolas another mug. The elf hesitated before taking another sip, eyes darting between you and the blond next to you before he continued going.

“Oh, Legolas, hands down,” you whispered back with a grin, turning to face him. He was now seated next to you, figuring he might be standing for a while before this whole thing was over.

“Part of me thinks the Dwarf might win,” Eomer chuckled, now handing Gimli – who had just let out quite the burp – his next one, “I’ve heard tales of how the Erebor dwarves can drink wine-filled rivers and remain on their feet.”

“Hear, hear, it’s the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women,” the dwarf chuckled to himself before downing his next pint. He seemed so out of it by now, you were shocked he was still standing. Or, sitting, technically. Maybe you’d win this bet. You had no clue where Eomer had heard his tales, but they were about to be proven wrong tonight.

“Alright, it’s on, then,” you grinned to Eomer, bumping your shoulder against his. Gimli was soaked, drips of ale down his beard and foam across his face. His eyes were slightly crossed and he was belching like mad – how could he win? You faced Legolas, giving him a small thumbs up. The elf looked rather unfazed, not a single drop of ale on his chin and his posture still straight and proper. He didn’t even seem to be affected in the slightest.

You looked around at the table, each of them having nearly drunk ten full mugs by now. The difference between them was quite amusing.

“I think I’m beginning to feel something,” Legolas’ soft voice caught your attention, snapping your eyes upwards, “A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it’s affecting me.” Nearly twelve refills down and he had just begun to start feeling it.

Eomer’s eyebrows shot up at the elf’s words, and you let out a small laugh.

“You really are something else, Legolas,” you were utterly disgusted by the whole situation, but the fact that he was bound to win made it seem a tad better.

He didn’t reply, placing his now-empty mug down on the wooden tabletop instead.

“Eh, what did I say?” Gimli belched out, finishing his own mug as well, “He can’t hold his liquor.”

And that was the last thing he said before his eyes rolled back into his head, his body falling backwards and off of his stool. The people who were watching erupted in laughter, clinking drinks together as if they, too, had made bets.

“Game over,” Legolas gave a small shrug, not even bothering to take a sip of the newly filled ale that Eomer had poured.

“Ha!” you stood up, nudging the Rohirrim warrior in the shoulder, “Now you owe me something.”

Eomer chuckled, placing his hands up in surrender, “A drink then, my lady?”

You turned to face the table, pointing to all of the empty mugs, “After watching that, I never want to smell, taste, or look at ale again,” you eyed Gimli’s unconscious body, “But maybe since you seemed to be so supportive of the dwarf, you can deal with taking care of him. That’ll be your end of the bet.”

He shook his head, letting out a laugh, “That, I can tell you, is not happening.”

“I can’t blame you there.”

You felt a hand on your lower back, and you turned your attention over to Legolas, who had rather quickly made his way across the table to stand by your side. You weren’t sure why he was holding onto you, but you revelled in the feeling of his warm hand through the silk of your gown. Eowyn had lent it to you for the evening, and you shamefully almost didn’t want to give it back. It was rather lovely and comfortable.

“I guess I owe you congratulations, eh?” you grinned at him, trying your best to speak up over the growing voices around you. He was close to you, closer than you initially thought. And he looked so radiant, despite the smell of the liquor on his breath.

“And I owe you one of these,” Eomer interrupted your moment – bless him – and handed you a mug of ale.

You gave a disgusted shake of your head and frowned, pushing your body against Legolas without meaning to, “Absolutely not.” The whole hall smelled of the alcohol and you were sure you’d find yourself nauseous if you took even a single sip.

“Are you sure?” Eomer asked again, raising an eyebrow before bringing the mug near his own lips. You let out a laugh, knowing he was only kidding around.

Legolas’ hand gave your waist a squeeze, “I think she said she doesn’t want any.” Whatever tone of amusement he had held during his drinking game seemed to have vanished, and you were honestly clueless as to why he had sudden hostility.

Eomer held his hand up in surrender and took a sip of the drink, turning away once he heard the sound of someone shouting his name. You didn’t get the chance to say anything to him before he vanished in the crowd, causing you to turn to Legolas with furrowed eyebrows.

“I think you scared him away,” you narrowed your eyes, his hand no longer on your waist as you turned to face him, “He was only messing around, you didn’t have to stand up for me.”

Legolas seemed to have forgotten all about his drinking game and Gimli’s groaning body on the floor. His eyes scanned your face, and down to your hands where his own warm ones came to embrace yours.

“I’ll always stand up for you,” he said softly, one of his fingers running along the back of your hand. You were thrown off by the way he was acting, but not in a bad way. Legolas had always been protective of you — extra caring around you. It was one of the reasons you had fallen stupidly hard for him.

“And I really do appreciate that, you know I do,” you replied, giving a small tilt of your head, “But I highly doubt I need help with Eomer.”

He pursed his lips, eyes focused on your intertwined hands. He hadn’t looked at you and you were wondering what was going on in that pretty head of his.

“Hey, Legolas, what’s wrong?” you nudged, one of your hands under his chin so he could finally face you. His eyes held no giveaway, still blue and gorgeous as ever. He was sometimes complicated to read — he’d speak in little riddles or he’d divert the topic to avoid expressing his feelings. You were usually the only one who could fully read him, but that was failing you right now.

“It scares me sometimes,” he admitted, “The fact that I’m not the only one in the room who thinks you’re beautiful.”

You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you blinked rapidly.

“What?” you were half expecting him to start laughing, to tell you he was playing a joke, “Do you actually think that?”

He nodded, the movement so subtle you almost missed it. Sure, the elf was hard to read sometimes, but you could tell with near certainty that he wasn’t jesting.

“I don’t think you need to worry,” you broke the momentary silence, inching towards him and gently wrapping your arms around his neck, a new wave of confidence washing over you at his words. Legolas seemed to lean into the gesture — he may be nearly ancient in age but you of all people knew how touch-starved he was — and made sure he looked at you, “People can stare, or gawk, or offer invitations all they want. At the end of the night, there’s only one person who really catches my attention. And he happens to be tall, pointy eared, blond, and quite sharp with a bow.”

The tips of Legolas’s ears seemed to heat up as he gave you a wide grin.

“Oh, and it’s not Haldir,” you chuckled as Legolas inched a tad closer, the space between the two of your bodies nearly non-existent. He was impossibly warm, which was odd. But it was hard not to be a few degrees warmer considering the amount of ale in his body combined with the fact that you were all in an enclosed, crowded space.

“You should have told me earlier,” he whispered, and you were able to hear him, as if the crowd around you had died off and vanished from earshot, “meleth-nîn.”

He almost sounded nervous saying the nickname, but did it ever send butterflies roaring in your chest. You felt as if they were fluttering up and down your legs, causing you to feel light on your feet.

“I would have if I knew you felt the same,” you sighed, leaning into his hand which was now on your cheek. He was about to reply but he was cut off by a loud groan and the squeaking wood of the bench behind him.

“Aye, aye,” Gimli began to sat up — in all honesty you nearly forgot he was there in the heat of the moment— and looked over at the two of you, “Aren’t you glad he drank all that ale? Thought the elf would never confess. You, over there, pay up.”

Eomer, who had previously vanished into the party, came back with a mug and a small bag of coins. You furrowed your eyebrows and glanced between the dwarf and the Rohirrim soldier, the two dots finally connecting.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking,” you scoffed as Eomer handed Gimli the bag of coins, giving you a sheepish grin.

He shrugged, “It was obvious to all but you two. So, naturally, everyone placed bets.”

You thought back to the subtle hints Aragorn would throw your way, the jokes Gimli would make when you and Legolas would sit awfully close and whisper to one another, the hints Boromir would make about the different ways that elves show affection. It all made sense now. Of course they all knew. They were some of the wisest people in Middle Earth. And you were rather stupid.

Legolas let out a small laugh and clasped his hand on Eomer’s shoulder, “Forgive me. I had misunderstood your previous intentions.”

Eomer shook his head, “There is nothing to forgive. Believe me, I have seen a fair share of men follow in my sister’s steps, I can recognize a love-struck look when I see one.”

With a wink, Eomer tipped his drink in your direction and once again, disappeared into the crowd. He was no small man, so you were left wondering how his shape would leave your vision so quickly. He just kept coming and going.

“Well,” you turned to Legolas, “I suppose neither of us have been as sneaky with our feelings as we thought.” He nodded in agreement, the little smile never leaving his lips.

With a link of your hands, he pulled you close once more, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a walk, meleth-nîn?”

You leaned up onto your tip toes, still feeling that new found confidence, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, “I’d love nothing more.”

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#legolas imagine #legolas imagines #legolas one shot #legolas one shots #legolas x reader #legolas reader insert #legolas fic #legolas fics #fotfics

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runawaymun · 2 years

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Hii! This is my first time making a request to you, hopefully I get everything right. I love your account, your writing is simply flawless, I love reading your posts! Could I request an Elrond imagine with a female reader? Have it being a comfort character scenario (I hope that’s right!) where Elrond asks the reader to go walking through the gardens to look at the stars with him when both aren’t able to sleep? Maybe he could be admiring her or having subtle touches of hands or fly away strains of hair because they both have feelings for the other? And he confesses to her when he just can’t take it and it’s just teeth-rotting fluff? He’s one of the few characters my mind goes to when I’m feeling lonely or anxious. I tend to think about taking his arm or even receiving a hug from him in these kind of scenarios, especially when I’m feeling lonely which is a lot. I hope this is enough/right for what you like to request! I apologize if it’s not! If you make this, I would be over the moon, but I also understand if it doesn’t spark anything! Thank you anyway! ❤️

Thank you so much for the compliment. This prompt is so lovely. I hope this works for you! ❤️

Elrond x Fem!Reader, Fluff & Romance ~ The Moon Garden

“It is rather late to be awake, don’t you think?”

The voice catches you off guard. You glance behind you from where you’ve been sitting, idly staring at the dying coals in your fireplace, and see Elrond there. You can’t help a smile. He stands tall in the doorway, filling it, hands folded behind his back.

“I can’t sleep,” you admit.

It isn’t that you’re anxious. Rivendell is a very difficult place to be anxious in. You just can’t seem to shut off tonight.

Elrond hums and says: “I was just about to go for a walk. I find it clears the mind. Would you care to join me?”

You fight a blush and try not to answer too quickly.

“I’d be glad for the company,” you say, “Thank you.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he dips his head, stepping back into the hall. You wish you could think of something intelligent to talk about. The two of you have known each other for years, but no matter how comfortable you are in his company, the charisma that radiates off of him always makes your stomach flutter.

He takes you down a flight of stone stairs and then out beneath the starlit sky. You look up, and your breath catches. It’s a new moon tonight, and the sky is perfectly clear, so the stars are bright and shine in an array of colors: red, blue, even green and purple. Some must be planets but you’re not sure which.

“Oh, it’s perfect tonight!” You exclaim.

When you glance up at him, Elrond is looking at you, and not the sky. He’s smiling. He finally looks up at the stars and agrees: “It is. One of my favorite nights of the year.”

You nudge him gently in the shoulder. “This was a good idea.”

It makes him chuckle, and you’d do it a thousand times more just to hear it. The two of you start down the path, gravel crunching beneath your boots. Elrond offers you his arm and you take it, and that simple touch makes your spine tingle.

He knows the stars better than you do, so you’re happy to listen as he points certain ones out by name and charts their path with his fingertip. You’re able to find constellations and ask him about them. He knows their names in every language on Middle Earth, and the stories behind them, too. The one you’re calling Orion, the Elves call Oromë, but in both stories the character is a hunter and the star by his feet is a great dog. The Dwarves, however, see the hunter’s belt as gems in the crown of a king, and the nearby bright star is his beloved queen.

The night is alive with the sound of crickets and singing night birds, and the air drifting off of the river is pleasantly cool, ruffling your hair. Elrond is warm next to you. Without thinking, you edge a bit closer into his side, and he doesn’t pull away. In fact, you can swear he leans closer, too.

As you turn the path, it smells a bit like vanilla and a white flower catches your eye. You grab Elrond’s arm with your free hand.

“Is that night phlox?” And then you’re rushing over to it, cupping the little white star-shaped flowers. “I’ve never seen one blooming before! But I suppose I have never been out walking so late.”

When you look over at him that bright, affectionate smile is back on his face. “I have quite a few night-blooming plants in the gardens. Would you like to see them?”

Of course you would. He doesn’t even have to ask. You run over to him and he guides you down the path with a ghosting touch to your back, and points out the plants as you pass them: blush-pink moonflowers, peach-colored brugmansia with its trumpet-shaped blossoms, night-blooming jasmine flowers and orchids, and six-petaled tuberose that seem to absorb and reflect the starlight.

Eventually the pair of you come to sit on one of the benches that overlook the Bruinen cascade. During the night, the waterfall looks like molten silver as it weaves over the rocks and through the valley. The two of you sit there, watching it and the stars in turns, content with each other’s company in the easy silence that follows.

Elrond breaks it with a whispered: “Do not move.”

You freeze, staring straight ahead, and say: “What?”

But you can hear a smile in his voice when he says: “Hold very still.”

He brushes your shoulder with just a fingertip that raises goosebumps on your skin, and then tells you to look. Balanced on his hand is a moth, slowly opening and closing its wings as it searches along his skin with its feelers. Its wings are an iridescent painting of colors that shift between turquoise and orange, purple and gold, with black flecks speckled throughout.

“Oh,” you breathe. It’s only three inches across, and you’re left awestruck at how intricate something so small can be.

“A sunset moth,” Elrond murmurs fondly. “It mistook you for a flower.”

There’s something in the way that he says it. You can’t put your finger on what, exactly, but it makes your stomach flutter again. The two of you watch it explore Elrond’s hand (he carefully rotates when the moth’s about to run out of room). After a little while, it loses interest and floats away.

Another moment passes in silence, then Elrond asks: “How much longer do you expect to stay in Rivendell?”

You have a habit of traveling, but you always seem to wind up back here no matter how far away you go. You push your hair back behind your ear and shrug. “I have no plans to leave for the moment, but I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.”

“You are in no danger of that, I can assure you,” he replies at once. His gaze falls to his hands, then flicks back up to you. His expression is so intense it knocks the air out of your chest. He says softly: “You would have a home here, if you wish to stay.”

You’re suddenly aware of just how close you’re sitting to him, and you feel so warm you think you might combust. Breathless, you ask: “Is that an invitation, or a request?”

That intense expression softens to something almost shy. His bright gray eyes are full of affection when he replies: “I have grown very fond of your company, I must admit.”

You shift to face him, and whisper, “You should say what you mean.”

He studies you, gauging, thinking, and then leans a bit closer and stops just short, still watching you. You tilt your head up to his. The question in his eyes is unmistakable.

“I am a lord,” he says carefully, “And your host—”

“--just kiss me, already,” you interrupt.

He actually flushes red. Then he dips to do just that, and it’s gentle and soft and everything that you have ever imagined, if you admit to imagining it at all.

“Stay here.” His breath ghosts across your mouth, “With me.”

You smile against his lips and reach up to take his face in your hands, stroking across those knife-sharp cheekbones, tracing that blush that has risen all the way to the tips of his ears.

“I would love to.”

That smile of his which has been so soft all night widens into brilliance, and he kisses you again, deeper this time.

“This was a good idea,” you say just as you had earlier, and shift to lean your head against his shoulder.

“Yes,” he agrees, putting an arm around you. “Yes, it was.”

#elrond #elrond x reader #elrond x you #elrond imagine #catch me writing tooth rotting fluff at 4AM 'cause I can't sleep #this was really wholesome omg #i loved doing this #And Rohan Will Answer! (Requests)#it's technically fem!reader but this can really be read as GN

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lordoftherazzles · 3 years

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Can I you write something on jealous thorin! I am dying to read something like that... Like Bilbo going somewhere and getting flirted by someone (except elves and dwarves) for example by a normal handsome person. And even Bilbo is attracted and stupified by his elegance and his slender body.

Thank you so much for this prompt!! I love writing a grumpy guy. This one was a lot of fun for me and gave me an opportunity to explore a "during the quest" setting! I hope you enjoy it!

prompt "I do believe our burglar has a type,"

word count 2175

relationship(s) thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins

character(s) thorin oakenshield, bilbo baggins, the company of thorin oakenshield

additional notes this one was insanely fun for me, that's all I gotta say! I'm LOVING these prompts and ideas you guys are giving me!!

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Thorin didn’t like Lake-Town.

Namely, the Master and his greasy little sidekick, but they were given more of a welcome and more accommodation than the bargeman had been able to secure. The sooner they were out of here, the better, but there was still a bit of time before Durin’s Day, and there was no need to camp aimlessly outside of a hidden door.

Celebrations and the promise of riches for all had kept spirits rather high, except for Thorin’s. He had tried to put on a mask, the type that was reserved for social affairs that he hadn’t been a part of since he was a much younger lad. Thankfully this was nothing like the social gatherings that had been held between Erebor and Dale once upon a time.

There was that stench of stale ale in the air, as well as fish, but that seemed to sum up Lake-Town entirely. Thorin sat near the end of one table, tapping his fingers against the wood as his glare seemed to be burning into the back of someone at the second table that housed his company.

Feeling an elbow jam into his own, a scowl formed on his lips as Kili wedged himself to sit at the table, sitting far too close for Thorin’s comfort. “Why the long face, Uncle?” Kili chimed, a small slur to his voice as he had a mug in one hand and the other hugging onto Thorin’s arm. At least the alcohol was keeping the younger dwarf from grimacing every single time he took a step. That shot to Kili’s leg had been bound, but certainly not healed.

“I’m fine,” Thorin insisted with a growl before Fili wedged in on his other side.

“You don’t look fine to me. I know that look. You’re angry.” Fili nearly had a sing-song tone to his voice, but at least he didn’t reek of ale as Kili did.

Another nudge at Thorin’s elbow had the leader of the Company squishing in on himself so that he wasn’t bumping elbows. It was a failed effort.

“Could it be because a certain someone has his attention fixated on someone else? I do believe our burglar has a type,” Fili gave Thorin’s arm a comforting pat, not trying to sound teasing whatsoever. Though the same couldn’t be said for Kili.

“What? Tall, dark, and broody?” Kili sputtered out with a laugh, spilling a quarter of his mug across the table. “Though, I do suppose Uncle could be considered tall for a dwarf!”

Thorin’s face was flushed, be it by both anger as well as embarrassment as he felt his ears burn. He couldn’t let his eyes tear away from Bilbo’s back, or the small nods of fascination that seemed to come from the hobbit as he was engaged in deep conversation with one of the Lake-Town locals.

A tall fellow, dark hair wedged beneath a hat and a beard that surpassed even Thorin’s own. Not that the dwarf was examining this fellow that much, but he was one of the more reasonable fellows to look at in this fisherman’s town. Never before had Thorin been concerned about his appearance, not like this, and yet here he was, idly reaching a hand up towards his shorter beard and scrubbing at the coarser hairs that didn’t measure up to any sign of beauty among dwarves.

“There is a solution in all of this, Uncle. You could just go over there and sweep the burglar off his feet for yourself?” Fili offered up, trying to sound helpful, but he was fixated with a glare that told him to snap his jaw shut.

“I am not bothered if Mister Baggins chooses to socialize during our stay. I will not tell my company who they may or may not speak with.”

“Yeah, but it’s what we do with those we speak with that may capture more of your attention, right?” Kili jammed his elbow into Thorin’s arm again. “Or rather, one specific person. You couldn’t give a whit what Fili or myself do while we’re here, or Dwalin or Nori, but you get my point. However, when it comes to him, you care.”

“I do not care,” Thorin insisted once more, feeling like a tightly sealed vault full of feelings instead of gold.

“All we’re saying is that if you’re waiting for the right moment to make your move, it’s probably now. Or someone is going to beat you to it.” Fili always seemed to be slightly more mature one of the two nephews, but his words were just as unwanted as Kili’s.

“You’re both wretched little creatures and the topic will cease, now.” Thorin’s stern tone seemed to ward off more harassment when it came to Bilbo, save for one parting statement.

“Alright, we’ll sod off, but I gotta say, green just isn’t your color, remember that.” Fili gave Thorin’s shoulder a fond pat before moving to fish his younger brother away from the table with no small amount of difficulty. That wound, accompanied by a few mugs of ale, didn’t make it easy for anyone to toddle off.

Thorin was left to his own devices, tapping his fingers again against the table as he stared and simmered and let the words of his nephews influence that agitation brewing on the inside. Just what did Bilbo find so appealing about this fellow he was chatting and laughing with? What sort of stories could a fisherman in this drab place have to tell? So yes, Thorin was jealous, almost on an embarrassing level. It made him even more agitated to feel this way, but then again, these were feelings that he hadn’t felt before.

Life had been hard and duty-bound for so long, and where Thorin Oakenshield had assumed he had seen it all, he was now being sent into an uncomfortable frenzy over some butterflies in his stomach. It made his insides hurt, but there was a quest to focus on, and the rest could wait until after. A mountain was far more important than his silly little love life. Once he reclaimed his homeland, surpassed the expectations of those around him, and set Erebor back on the path to greatness-

Oh, who was Thorin kidding? Bilbo would be long gone by then.

It made a sinking feeling enter his stomach, tearing at those angry butterflies as he dropped his head some. What was more important? Pining? Or extreme focus on winning a mountain? If he let this go, would Thorin ever truly be focused on the quest at hand?

Swallowing thickly as he lifted his eyes to catch a lingering hand at Bilbo’s back, whatever tentative stare had dared to glance towards Bilbo was snuffed out in favor of a roaring blaze of a glare.

Jolting up from his seat and rounding the table towards the next, Thorin held zero hesitation to land a hand next to where Bilbo was leaning on the table - dreamy eyed and seemingly enamored with this fisherman fellow sitting next to him. “Master Baggins, if you don’t mind I’d like a few moments of your time.” Bright blue eyes darted towards the tall fellow who looked rather perplexed at the sudden dwarf’s appearance. “Alone.”

Bilbo gave a small wave of dismissal, “I best take this conversation, though I appreciate the fine stories you brought. You don’t want to see this one in a bad mood,” Bilbo teased, clearly indicating that Thorin was temperamental and unpleasant and- well, maybe he was right. The hobbit shifted in his seat as he and Thorin were left alone, staring up towards the standing dwarf and looking rather delighted - much to Thorin’s dismay. “What’s so important now, Thorin?”

“I did not expect for you to be such an obvious flirt,” Thorin grumbled, a bit of displeasure to his tone as Bilbo’s face twisted to more surprise than anything.

“Me? Oh, that?” Bilbo had a grin twitching on his lips. “Does that bother you?” Bilbo twisted in his seat, looking over towards the bar where his previous company had sauntered off to. “He is rather attractive, isn’t he? A bit rugged looking, with long locks to die for, and quite a nice beard.” Bilbo rubbed the air around his chin as he was describing said beard, eyes darting to the corners as he barely caught Thorin’s frustration in his sights.

“I suppose.” Thorin hissed between his teeth, shifting in his boots and wondering just how far a chair could sail if he kicked it.

“Though I prefer blue eyes, myself. His were brown, and he wasn’t a dwarf. A moody dwarf, specifically.” Bilbo spoke as he patted the seat next to him. “Do you wish to join me, Thorin Oakenshield?”

Thorin was certain his jaw could hit the floor as he stood there and felt his face heat up. Bilbo looked entirely too content and pleased while he stood there like some red faced fool. “I...I beg your pardon?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to stomp over here instead of huffing over there. Thorin, if you think you’re subtle, you’re not.” Giving the seat next to him another pat, Bilbo used his free hand to claim the stein before him once more. “You’ve been staring at me all night, and ever since we escaped Mirkwood for that matter, but I wasn’t going to bring that up.” And yet he had.

Thorin stood there dumbstruck for a moment before slowly sinking into the seat next to Bilbo’s own in silence. Gnawing at the inside of his cheeks for a good moment, the dwarf wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Had he truly been that obvious? Thorin thought himself a rather reserved fellow who was decent at schooling his emotions and expressions. Perhaps he wasn’t nearly as good at that craft as he assumed. “And all of this was just for show?” He asked quietly, finally daring to look towards Bilbo at his side with extreme caution.

“Really, Thorin…? Are you truly this dense?” Bilbo’s laugh sadly was not contagious. He was an observant sort, at least for the most part, so as he noticed Thorin’s face turn a touch redder, Bilbo quieted down before nudging Thorin’s arm a bit and dropping his voice. “I simply figured you had enough on your mind without adding myself to the mix.”

Which was exactly what Thorin had planned on. Win the mountain, secure Erebor’s future, and then the rest would follow. Well, as he had told Balin before, plans changed.

“Plus, watching you squirm between your troublesome nephews was rather amusing.” Bilbo grinned proudly.

Thorin’s brows furrowed slightly as he shifted his gaze and felt a little bit of that embarrassment start to flow away from his face, though still rosy cheeked. “You’re as considerate as you are cruel, you know that?” Purposely driving that jealousy to a point where Thorin couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’ve been called worse,” Bilbo reached up just as Thorin leaned down, latching his hands against both of those braids that lined the sides of Thorin’s head, giving them a small tug before both of them came to a pause at bumping noses and foreheads. “Ah, Thorin?”

“Are you truly wanting to ask me a question right this second?” Thorin murmured, bright blues focusing on the hazel ones that were so incredibly close to his own.

“Well…” Bilbo started before his eyes flickered to the side, which caused Thorin’s own to shift, following Bilbo’s gaze.

A table crowded with dwarves all staring with amusement and all the cheekiness in the world.

Thorin pulled back slightly, fully turning his head to face that company of his with a small sigh escaping his lips, but he didn’t look nearly as put out as one might expect.

“Don’t make me come over there and smash your heads together!” Dwalin barked over the table, earning a chorus of laughter - and even a small huff of amusement from Thorin.

Bright blue eyes shifted to meet hazel eyes once more. “I don’t fancy being entertainment for anyone,” he started while sliding from his seat, “save for you, Master Baggins.”

That low murmur just about sent Bilbo melting into the floorboards as a large hand engulfed his own. “I should have started flirting with others a lot sooner,” Bilbo chuckled before being fixed with a look as he too was slipping from his seat.

“I would be most obliged if you saved your flirting for me. Alone. Away from this miserable audience.”

And boy did he not have to tell Bilbo twice. The hobbit followed one a step or two behind Thorin, one of his smaller hands still gripped in a larger dwarven one, and honestly, propriety and expectations could go hang themselves. Bilbo didn’t give a whit at the groans and catcalls that followed during Thorin and Bilbo’s retreat, but no doubt there would be more conversation to be had in the morning over breakfast...

...Or perhaps second breakfast. Bilbo had a feeling that sleeping in tomorrow may be inevitable.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #thilbo #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #hobbit fanfic #razzywrites #razquests #thank you for the request!

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years

Text

12. All About Bilbo from the POV of...Thorin

And FINALLY I’m done. Thank you guys so much for all the notes/comments/reblogs/etc. I appreciate each and every one of you. If you haven’t been keeping up and want to see all 12 POVs, you can click on the masterlist here or I may just go ahead and post them to AO3. Please enjoy the long awaited Bagginshield conclusion. 😉

***

Thorin knew after the battle, after laying in that healing camp, after finally being free to have thoughts not consumed by his treasury, there was only one edict he could make as his first one as king: the hobbit had to stay in Erebor. An advisor, a cook, a gardener, he did not care what occupation he took. He would invent a position if he needed to! He just needed Bilbo by his side if he were to be of any use to the mountain. Of course, convincing the hobbit of this was easier said than done.

In all fairness, Thorin could have gone about it a lot better than all but demanding he stay. The hobbit ranted and raved, he seemed on the verge of lashing out physically (which Thorin would reluctantly admit he would have deserved), and he spent several long agonizing nights in Dale. Finally, Bilbo came back to inform Thorin that he would be returning to the Shire, he would be allowed six months to make his choice, and Thorin would respect it. Balin had to remind Thorin it would be within his best interest to accept. Thorin couldn’t argue with that. In fact, he needed Bilbo to know just how much he appreciated him before he left.

It was their first real conversation since the Battle. Thorin made his apologies and explained just how much the hobbit’s unconventional wisdom was needed both in his kingdom and to the king personally. In return, Bilbo expressed his fears during Thorin’s goldsickness and why exactly he turned over the Arkenstone. It was far from fixed, but it did go a long way towards regaining their former friendship. The hobbit would cite it as what finally convinced him to come back just under two years later. It should have been the happy ending Thorin had been waiting for. He never would have guessed just how wrong he was.

“I’m going to kill him.” Thorin growled.

“You’ve said that before.” Balin reminded patiently.

“This time, I’m really going to kill him. Whose idea was it to make him ambassador to the elves anyways?”

“I believe that would be...yours, Your Majesty.”

Thorin had no energy to deal with Balin’s misplaced amusement as he marched towards the hobbit’s room. He pounded on the door making sure this time that the sneaky burglar couldn’t claim not to hear him.

“I’m not answering if you’re going to be in a mood, Thorin Oakenshield.” Came the muffled response.

“You approved further negotiations after I told you I would not go to that despairing Mirkwood if my life depended on it!”

“Yes, I remember the conversation vividly.” Bilbo sighed.

“Then why…!”

“Your Majesty, if I may?” Balin interrupted. “Perhaps the hall is not the appropriate setting for this discussion.”

Thorin glared at his friend and advisor before turning that look onto the door before him.

“Let me in.” He ordered.

“Only on your word that you will quit raising your voice to me.” The hobbit conditioned.

“I will raise my voice if I please! I AM KING!”

“And with that winning attitude, who could forget?!”

“By Mahal.” Balin swore softly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

Thorin silently fumed as he glared at the stone before him. Any that claimed dwarves were the most stubborn creatures on Arda clearly have not met Bilbo Baggins. Thorin took a deep breath to center himself before trying again.

“Master Baggins, will you please let me in so we can discuss this in private?” He all but hissed.

It was silent for a moment before the door swung open to reveal the curly haired hobbit who was currently sitting as the bane of Thorin’s very existence.

“There, was that so hard?” Bilbo answered snidely.

Thorin’s fists clenched at his side, and Balin rolled his eyes before turning to go the other way.

“I’m done with the two of you. Fetch me when you’ve figured it out or someone’s dead.”

Thorin gladly slammed the door on the traitor, leaving him and Bilbo alone. However, now that he had the hobbit before him, he found himself unfortunately speechless. He loathed that. As if his mere presence could steal all Thorin’s words away. His rather impromptu first words upon their meeting came to mind. Clearly, he was wrong about this burglar of senses.

“I’m not apologizing.” Bilbo began, crossing his arms. “They asked for a show of good faith from Erebor, and frankly I couldn’t see a reason to fault them.”

“You couldn’t?” Thorin raised a mocking eyebrow. “Clearly you remember our last stay in their wooded halls differently from me.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows furrowed with a scowl. “See! That’s exactly what I’m talking about. If you want this alliance to work, you’re going to have to bury past slights. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what the Shire would be if we held onto grudges the way dwarves do.”

“And I can’t imagine the state of my kingdom if I allow flippant hobbits to not hold people accountable for their actions!”

Bilbo pointed a finger at him. “You’re shouting.”

“A'lâju Mahal (Shame of Mahal)! You are...irritating!” Thorin bit back.

“So you’re saying people shouldn’t be forgiven?”

Just like that, the fire that had been steadily building in his breast was snuffed out. Still, Thorin Oakenshield did not bend completely.

“I believe there is a difference when that forgiveness is desired.”

“And I think Thranduil fits the bill...in his own way.” Bilbo shrugged under Thorin’s disbelieving look. “He’s let his son go, he’s lost Tauriel to Dale due to his actions, he’s gotten back the gems he’s been denied. I think he’s ready to make amends. I’m not saying we have to pretend he’s not hurt us. I’m just saying, it would be a good show of...neighborly airs to meet with him and see what he has to offer.”

There was logic in the hobbit’s words, even if Thorin did not want to hear them. And that simple thought probably was the single summary of all their hard feelings as of late. He turned to leave before he had to accept any more difficult truths.

“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat.

The long disappointed sigh that followed him cut quicker than any blade.

***

The journey to Esgaroth where they would spend the night before continuing into the dreaded woods the next day was...tense to say the least. Even Dwalin was uncomfortable, and that was saying something. The inn was a welcome sight if only to get an ale and free Thorin of the abrasive atmosphere surrounding the hobbit. The man who owned the inn was tripping over himself to welcome the King of Erebor, and when Thorin was finally allowed peace in his own room, he was reluctant to leave. However, that ale was calling his name, and he waited long enough that surely the hobbit’s final meal was complete to avoid any awkwardness.

That was too little credit to the brilliant burglar. He waited until Thorin was sat down at the bar halfway through his ale before he appeared at Thorin’s elbow as if out of thin air.

“Why are you avoiding me?” Bilbo demanded. “In fact, what possible excuse could you have to be angry at me if you are in fact angry?”

Thorin was choking on the amber liquid that had rushed down the wrong pipe.

“Well, you see…” He edged around his persistent cough.

“Need I remind you, I’m only doing the job you gave me. Going back further than that, I’m only here in Erebor because you insisted I be.”

“If you would just let me…” Thorin growled only to be interrupted again.

“Is this some sort of punishment for taking the Arkenstone? You lure me back with words of forgiveness and then argue with every single decision I make when I’m only trying to help…”

“IT’S BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! You confounded creature!”

Thorin nearly sighed in relief to finally see the hobbit’s mouth had stopped moving. It was as he took in the widened eyes and nervous stance that his words were able to catch up to him. His hands shook as his eyes darted around the significantly quieter room.

“You love me?” Bilbo whispered.

Thorin didn’t want to have to deal with this in front of all these men and dwarves, especially Dwalin’s irritating smirk. Grabbing the hobbit’s hand, he led him into the hallway where it was a little more private.

“You love me?” Bilbo repeated once they were alone.

Thorin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was one secret he had hoped to hold onto for a little while longer. Not that he was never going to act on his feelings, just he was waiting for a little more time to pass. For the chasm between them to be bridged stably once more. But they hadn’t been able to stop arguing! He certainly didn’t expect Bilbo to accept him right now, but he also would not lie to him.

“Yes.” He answered, holding steady for the ire that was sure to erupt.

Instead, the hobbit all but flung himself at the dwarf king, his mouth immediately meeting Thorin’s. It was abrupt, it was warm, it was wet, and it was wonderful. When Bilbo pulled away it was to utter a phrase he never even allowed himself to hope to hear.

“Thorin, take me to bed. Now.”

The dwarf’s jaw dropped at the invitation and the open lust dilating the hobbit’s pupils.

“Wait. Now?” Thorin repeated, his mind whirling but not connecting.

“Now.” Bilbo asserted as he wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck to kiss him again.

“Shouldn’t we...discuss...this?” Thorin persisted through their kissing, rather stupidly in his opinion.

One that seemed to be shared by the hobbit if his sigh and impatient glare were anything to go off.

“Discuss what?” Bilbo demanded. “I love you. You love me. I’ve bloody been waiting for you to do something about it for months. Now are we going upstairs...or would you rather we postpone until after our meeting with the elves?”

Thorin all but slung the hobbit in his arms making his way as quickly as he could to his bedroom. The sly, conniving, extremely frustrating hobbit. And finally, finally he would be his.

#follower event #all about bilbo #bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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miridiums-writing · 3 years

Text

Awkward Encounter

Legolas x reader

Summary: Legolas goes down to the stable for some peace of mind and ends up meeting the new caretaker for the horses. SET AFTER HOBBIT BUT BEFORE LOTR.

Warnings: Legolas is a soft bean, Reader is a little mean but not really, swearing

Legolas went from stall in stall in the town, trying to spread the wealth he had taken with him as much as possible, as always, the people were kind and expressed their gratitude towards his kindness. The money didn’t really matter all that much to him. He had a very specific destination though. His horse hadn’t had a lot of care recently due to him being busy, and thought he should go brush his hair and make sure the horse shoes were clean and comfortable.

As he got closer to the stable the distinct smell of horses got stronger and stronger. The smell really calmed Legolas, here he had no responsibilities or worries, just him and his horse usually. Every so often there would be someone caring for another horse, though that was a rarity. The stable was a little dark due to how shaded it was, though that didn’t make it feel much cooler, the sun heating things up and making Legolas’ clothing stick a little to his body. As he gets to his horses stall, he decides to take a few layers off before he started.

As he stripped off his outer layers, he noticed how well groomed his horse looked, clearly his hair had been brushed recently, and when Legolas went to check his hooves, they were new clean horseshoes. “Huh, who did that” he said to himself as he went over to pick up a rag to clean his muck-covered hands. “I did” A voice stated behind him. Legolas quickly to turned to see someone he hadn’t seen before. They looked a little dirty, probably from cleaning up the stable. Though the first thing Legolas noticed was they were rather good looking, the snap of their fingers bringing him from his staring. “Are you good there, you know its rude to stare.” He looks around awkwardly trying to think of something to say, anything to say so he doesn’t look so silly. “Eh, yeah, sorry about that, you are just really pretty.” After he said that he smacked his muck covered hand over his mouth in panic, then realize what he did. The person stared at him trying to wipe off the muck for a moment before bursting into laughter. As they were laughing away, they weakly pulled out a rag for him to wipe it off with, their laughter not stopping until he had completely cleaned his face.

“Ok then handsome, what’s your name?” They said putting their hand out towards him, “I’m Y/n, just started working here last week” Legolas took a second to collect his thoughts before answering

“I’m Legolas, I own this horse” he said, putting his hand into their and shaking, their hand felt a little rough, probably from working with animals so much.

“well then Legolas, wanna go to the stream 5 minutes from here to properly clean your face, that’s gotta be gross” They said, trying to hold back as chuckle, but not doing a very good job at it.

“Eh yeah sure, sorry about that by the way, that was stupid of me”

“no need to apologise, I’m not the one with horse shit on my face”

“Please forget I did that, that was embarrassing” With that they both exited the stable together, Legolas trying to wrap his head around how he had never seen them before but hoping that he would be able to keep seeing them after this. Though they poked jokes at him he didn’t feel bullied, it felt like they were joking with him. A connection that he sorely missed now that Tauriel had left.

“So…. How long have you worked at the stable, I haven’t seen you around before”

“About a week now, and please ask me a better question, small talk drives me mad”

“Ok, uh, what do you think about the hate relationship between elves and dwarves”

“Now there is a good question. I think it’s rather petty, I can see from both sides and how it hurt both ends, how the dwarves felt betrayed and how the elves just wanted to keep their own safe. But in my life, I’ve learned that hate is always foolish, and love is always wise, so why hold on to such a foolish emotion for so many years. I think both sides just need to settle their differences and make up, we are stronger together than apart.”

“I like that, both species are such stubborn creatures though, I’m afraid it may take dire situations to finally bring them together.” With that Legolas cupped his hands under the water and started to wipe at his face, cleaning away any remanence of the horse poo from his face and soaking his hair making it stick to his forehead. “I like that, ‘stuck to forehead’ hair look you have going on there”

“Thanks, it was intentional” He said dully, starting to get used to their snarky sense of humour.

“Let’s get back to the stable then, mind going on a ride with me?” Legolas considered their offer, not sure if he was ready to put his heart out there again if it was going to get crushed, but the cheeky smile on their face made his mind up for him.

“Yes, I’d love to”

MY ASK BOX IS DEAD SO PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING

reblog if you enjoyed

#the hobbit fan fiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit #lotr x yn #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #the hobbit imagine #lotr imagine #legolas x reader #legolas #legolas x yn #legolas imagine #the hobbit x yn

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rosie-with-knives · 3 years

Note

I am asking you about deretima! it sounds very interesting! what's it about? I've only seen Rae talking about it occasionally and that's about the extent of what I know.

first off, congratulations on being the first person on tumblr to actually ask me about it. I may have freaked out for a bit. It's very exciting for me

Short answer, I'm working on A Book and Deretima is the world it is set on. Rae (as well as a handful of others) know a lot about it because I bounce ideas off of them in our discord server. I create best with people to soundboard for me. Occasionally they come up with cooler things than I would have ever thought of and they're so nice to let me take those ideas and run. Shout out to @raeofsunshin for the art in particular. They make that of their own free will and choice and it quite nearly makes me cry every time.

Very very long answer under the cut.

I'm going to organize this the best I can but I do get very excited and tend to ramble a bit. Apologies in advance.

A Brief History Of Deretima

The world of Deretima was created by four gods, a family, who came to this universe and shaped it to their whims. The Father, The Mother, The Son, and The Daughter willed it into existence by sheer belief and consequently, belief is a quantifiable thing in this world that can, and has, changed reality. After The Daughter created humans, the Old Gods (as they became known) went to war. This event is later known as the Great Breaking and left The Daughter as the sole ruler of this world. I've posted a short story of this here.

Unfortunately, full godhood responsibilities are really too much for one person. Too much for 4, even. So The Daughter, now known as The Bloody One, sought to create more gods to help her out. The first one she created was The Spider (front and center in Rae's art here. They have more, too, though I'm not sure if it's been posted.) I love the Spider. She's the god of manipulation and lies and truth and death and the bonds between everything and also she holds reality together. There's a full pantheon of about 15 gods, known in different cultures by different names and with varying sets of powers and strength. The ones most believed in are the ones most powerful. Also featured in Rae's art are The Friend (top right), The Bloody One (top left), The Siren (bottom left), and the Pirate (bottom right). This art by @mrs-brightside00 features The Keeper (red) and The Dancer (blue) and links to a different short story I wrote based on a tumblr prompt. I hope to finish it someday.

A list of the gods and a short description of their domains: -The Spider (truth and lies, manipulation, death, bonds. By far the most powerful god) -The Engineer (life and creation, creativity, the patron god of the Sunborn and inheritor of the Son's powers) -The Keeper/Living Hearth/Protector (god of protection, and of hearth and home. Known mainly as The Keeper to the Mer and as The Living Hearth among land dwelling races, short story here) -The Archivist/Knowledgeable/Lost (god of teaching and learning and knowledge, also of wanderers and loss of memory, patron to many nomadic tribes and also has the most extensive church system. It makes sense with the story I promise) -The Blacksmith (god of fire and stone, patron of the Forged and inheritor of the Mother's powers. See short story here) -The Dancer (god of sailing and navigation, also music and dance, primarily known among the Forged of the island of Levk) -The Siren (god of the sea, betrayal, and romantic love, patron of the Mer and inheritor of the Father's powers) -The Pirate Queen (another god of sea and sailing and war, fairly limited powers as she is not well known but not a force to be reckoned with) -The Warmonger (god of war) -The Spirit (god of revolution, alcohol, and parties) -The Friend (god of friendship and platonic love and the bonds between people specifically) -The Doctor (god of medicine) -The Devourer (god of destruction and needless violence) -The Grower (god of farming and harvests and feasts) -The Betrayed (god of revenge, anger, and spite)

The Races on Deretima

In the Great Breaking, some groups of humans turned away from the Daughter, their creator, and sought the protection of the other Old Gods in order to survive. There are still humans on Deretima, but there are 3 other races as well.

The Forged -Most simply put, they're a weird mix of tolkien-esque dwarves and elves -This race pleaded with the stones of the mountains to save their lives and turned themselves into living statues. See the short story linked under the Blacksmith in the list of gods. -They have skin of literal stone, hair that is metal, and eyes and fingernails of real gemstones -Forged tend to live for 500 years or so. A 'baby' Forged is carved by a master craftsman in an adult body (they do not grow) and brought to life by ritual. They mature more slowly than humans, taking about twice as long to develop, which isn't much but due to their culture are not really considered adults until about age 100 -Rae's art that drew you here has a Stoneborn named Lazuli in the middle left panel

The Sunborn -Simple explanation, dryads or Ents. Literal plant people -A baby Sunborn is created when a parent (can be any race) picks a plant they love and carries it around for a year and a day, loving it and caring for it and believing in it until it becomes a child -Sunborn can be any variety of plant. Sedentary village communities tend to be composed of 1-3 varieties. The nomadic tribes are a different story -Lifespan tends to be comparative to humans but there are a few outliers due to choice of plants. Things like specific kinds of trees can live as a Sunborn up to 200 years, but come with their own drawbacks and are rarely chosen for children.

The Mer -fairly standard mermaids/mermen -Mer come in many water creature species, with not much pattern or rhyme to it. The belief is that each person is born with the form that most suits their personality. The most common ones are reef-fish and other shallow ocean varieties, though both freshwater and deep sea varieties pop up on occasion -lifespan is usually equivalent to a standard human with the exception of the deep sea Mer, which can live 200-300 years

The Book

I haven't titled my current book yet, but it follows a young man named Kesil on his journey to figure out why an angry god slaughtered his town, leaving only him behind. It's a journey of self discovery and overcoming biases and becoming a better person. It's also a story of a dude who is a bit of a dumbass becoming a champion of the god of Knowledge unwittingly. It's also a romance between said dumbass and a wonderful capable woman named Kahani who is a badass in her own right and I love her (the romantic sub plot is really just a sub plot, and may take multiple books to complete, but I love their relationship a lot). I really thought I had posted more about them on here but I can't find any of it. Here's some short answers about Kesil, Kahani, and another character named Tasma.

I'm really hoping to have finished writing this book by the end of this year, but life is nuts and I can't promise any timeline. I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it published traditionally or if I'll need to self-publish but I WILL have books about Deretima in my hands. Someday.

Thank you so much for asking!! I've probably overwhelmed you a bit and I apologize but if you're curious about anything or want to know more just hit me up!!! I love to talk about my world

#rosie speaks #tales of deretima #rosie answers #wow this was long #i do not apologize #this is very much the condensed version. you can ask any of the Pests lmao #you can probably ask Rae for more art if you're curious too #I won't post it without permission and she may have already posted it though i cant find it at the moment

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years

Text

Geralt hates Novigrad. The people here are short-sighted and stubborn and don't care to learn any way than their own. Which means it's a bad place for anyone who's different - especially a Witcher. Even the Elves here hate him. The dwarves are a little better, but Geralt puts that down to Zoltan's influence rather than any learned compassion.

Today, the entire city could burn around him and Geralt would probably smile. It's the first day they've been back in civilization in weeks, which is the only reason they're in Novigrad to begin with. Oxenfurt is an extra day's travelling and both he and Jaskier are in need of a bath and a warm meal that doesn't taste like smoke. And good company, if he's lucky. Jaskier, he knows, will be gone for the night - it's easy enough for him to find a bed to warm in any city they visit - but Geralt is already dreading his visit to the brothel.

Passiflora is the only place that will take him any more, and then he's sure it's only because he and Jaskier know Marquise Serenity personally. He's been told in no uncertain terms that he's not welcome in the others. On occasion, there will be a lone girl waiting at the Golden Sturgeon, but it's always a gamble whether she's a prostitute or a pickpocket in disguise.

And if, by chance, he's welcomed inside, it's always a toss-up whether any of the girls will take him, then even less likely is that he'll get what he really wants. Geralt can't even count how many years he's been settling for sex that's only halfways satisfying - and paying for it, at that. Because those who do show an interest - falsified, or no - take one look at his cock and want to ride it or want him to fuck them with it and Geralt takes what he can get. He never asks for a man and he never asks anyone to fuck him, even though he'd be willing to pay extra for it.

But these past few weeks have been exhausting and the wear of being achingly aroused every night and not finding any satisfaction is getting old. He wants and he's not getting it from where he wants, so he'll try his luck at the brothel.

It doesn't go well.

He's had his eye on someone since he walked in - a slim, dark-haired man with bright eyes and bows on his trousers. When Geralt arrived, he was talking animatedly with another man and something about him reminds him of Jaskier. He shouldn’t approach for that exact reason, but he wants to. If he can’t have what he really wants, this is the next best thing.

He's only just approached the young man when a firm hand closes around his bicep. Geralt turns, instinctively ready to defend himself and the guard backs down.

"Only the women," he warns and Geralt sighs. They're protecting their men, he knows; he can't imagine a lot of men who fuck men are gentle when they're paying for it. In fact, he's heard stories first hand, so he can hardly blame them. And when a raven-haired woman approaches, stroking his arm and promising to take care of him, Geralt relents yet again.

She's soft under him and fucking her is better than his hand alone, but it's nothing like what he wants. It doesn't last long and Geralt makes sure she comes before he leaves, but as he heads out into the street he's feeling worse.

He resigns himself to another night of lying awake wondering who Jaskier is with this time - if he's lucky. If he's not, he won't have to wonder. Inn walls aren't thick and it's nothing for him to pick up on Jaskier's voice after years of attuning himself to it. Another reason he doesn't like towns; he's nearly always forced to listen to Jaskier getting off with whichever lucky bastard catches his eye.

It could be him, he thinks sometimes, but even Jaskier isn't that tolerant. He would probably be disgusted if he knew the things Geralt thought about him, the things he does lying awake and listening to him fuck someone else. And Geralt couldn't blame him for any of it. Shame and guilt rise in him even thinking about it now.

Guilt-ridden and miserable, Geralt makes his way back to the inn. At least he won't have to worry about Jaskier finding out about this because he'll be off somewhere else finding his own enjoyment. It's not that he would mock him for striking out, but sometimes Jaskier's protectiveness of him is overbearing when Geralt would rather just forget about something altogether. And this is definitely one of those things he'd like to pretend never happened.

The innkeeper follows him with his eyes as Geralt makes his way up to their room and he's acutely aware of the impact Jaskier's presence has on his life. No one trusts him without the bard at his side to sweet talk them and convince them that Geralt isn't a threat. Alone in a city, he feels unprotected and open and raw. Even the walk to their room feels far further than it did this afternoon.

But when he shoves the door in and stomps into the room, Jaskier is sitting there waiting for him. Alone, which is unexpected.

"Geralt?" he asks, "Is everything alright?"

Fuck. This is the last thing he wanted to happen. He was so sure Jaskier would be out enjoying himself that he never planned for the eventuality that he would just be here.

"Fine," he mumbles, dropping onto the stiff mattress. What he wants now is a hot bath and sleep, not an interrogation, but neither a bath nor sleep seems likely now. After a moment, Jaskier comes and settles behind him on the bed.

"Did they turn you away?" he asks gently.

Geralt huffs but can't bring himself to turn around as he mumbles a no. It's not a lie, not when there are times he's been barred from entering brothels altogether. Behind him, Jaskier huffs, clearly unimpressed and Geralt is expecting him to launch into one of his rants about respecting Witchers, but he doesn't. Instead, Jaskier's hands come up to hover above his shoulders.

"Can I?" he asks and Geralt grunts in lieu of response. Jaskier takes it as a yes, sliding his hands over Geralt's shoulders with a hum of disapproval. His fingertips press into a knot and Geralt forces himself to relax as Jaskier works it out.

"Was it the woman you saw then?"

"No," Geralt says a little too quickly before realizing that's not going to be a good enough answer for Jaskier. "She was fine."

"Fine isn't good, Geralt. Especially when you're paying for good. Was she too handsy?" he asks.

Geralt can feel the irritation creeping up his spine and he wants to rip out of Jaskier's hands and flee from the room. He wants to leave the inn altogether and forget and Jaskier would be okay here if he left and went to sleep in the forest tonight. It's a bit of a walk, but with Roach he could find somewhere to sleep before it gets too late.

Jaskier's hands lift from his shoulders and Geralt turns to look at him.

"Too timid?" Jaskier suggests.

Geralt looks away. Even if he could find the words to tell Jaskier what went wrong, he wouldn't. How do you tell someone you wanted to fuck a man who reminded you of them, regardless of how the situation went down. He still wanted it, still wanted Jaskier, but was willing to settle for the next best thing.

"You can tell me," Jaskier whispers and Geralt can feel his body shift closer so he's almost right against him. Geralt's shoulders slump and he can feel the fight leave him.

"Nothing really," he mumbles, "just not what I wanted." Even as he's saying the words, he curses himself for being too candid with Jaskier, but the idiot bard has a way of pulling things out of him whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Anything I can help you with?" he offers. Geralt's breath catches and he's certain it's obvious enough that Jaskier can hear it. Geralt says nothing. "Whatever it is you're after, I promise you it's not new to me."

Even in Geralt's wildest fantasies, he's never considered outright asking Jaskier for what he wants. But Jaskier's voice is so soft and genuine in his ear and right now, a small part of him wants to. It's been so long and Jaskier is offering. But he can't and he won't.

Jaskier, however, is not one to give up so easily.

The hands on Geralt’s shoulders slip forward, playing along his collarbone over the fabric of his shirt and Geralt does his best not to let it get to him, but it's hard. Jaskier's touch has always been a curse for him, softer and kinder than he deserves and yet something of a constant in his life, doing his best to test Geralt's patience and resolve. And he's treading into dangerous territory here. Geralt is already pent up and frustrated and likely to do something stupid to keep Jaskier from touching too much.

Jaskier is his only friend and Geralt won't betray that trust under any circumstances; he can't bear to lose the one person who treats him like a regular man. But Jaskier has never been one for worrying about things like sex and the consequences of who you sleep with and maybe-. No. He can’t.

"Tell me what you want darling, I'll be happy to help. Do you want me to touch you?" Geralt's pulse quickens but he says nothing. He doesn't want to encourage this and he knows Jaskier will only go so far without his explicit permission. "I could use my mouth. I'm very good with my mouth."

Geralt has no doubts about that and his blood rushes south remarkably quickly at the prospect. He's overheard Jaskier's lovers praising his mouth and he knows for a fact that Jaskier can make a man come with his tongue alone. And that's an incredibly tempting prospect.

"Or if you don't want me to touch you, I could talk you through it," he pauses and Geralt can feel Jaskier's breath against his ear, hot and damp as he leans in and whispers, "I know you're good at taking instructions." Fuck.

Jaskier's voice vibrates through his body and Geralt has to try harder than he should to keep from reacting. When he doesn't respond, Jaskier continues. His hands fall from Geralt's shoulders, settling on his hips.

"Or maybe that's not what you want," he muses, slipping his hands up Geralt's sides, "I know you like being touched, even if you pretend not to, hm? Maybe you could fuck me. Would you like that?" Geralt's breath is unsteady despite his best efforts, his traitorous cock pressing hard against his thigh.

"Gods, I bet you'd fuck me so well, wouldn't you?" Jaskier hums and brings his hands around to Geralt's back, sliding up to his shoulders. His thumb brushes against Geralt's neck and Geralt's eyes drop shut. Any given day, he thinks, if Jaskier genuinely wanted him to, he would. But this isn't like that and Geralt is stronger than his desires.

"Geralt," Jaskier chides, the soft lilt in his voice replaced with soft frustration. "You don't have to hold back like this. It's just me," he adds, softer again. "After everything we've been through, this would hardly be a hardship for me.”

“I know you,” he continues, his voice a light hum, “you get all quiet when I’m right. When you want something but you don’t think you deserve it.”

But- Geralt thinks, and Jaskier shifts behind him, pulling his mind back to the present. Geralt finds himself leaning when Jaskier pulls away, seeking the warmth of his chest. There's a light huff of a laugh and then Jaskier is behind him again, thighs pressing in on either side of Geralt's hips, hot breath in his hair. On his knees, Geralt realizes.

"What if I fuck you?" Jaskier asks, fingers slipping around the front of Geralt's neck to tip his head back. Unbidden, a soft sound escapes Geralt's throat and it doesn't escape Jaskier's attention. "Oh. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mm, darling, I bet you'd make the sweetest sounds with my cock inside you. You'd look so pretty laid out for me- or maybe I'd have you in my lap so I can see your face."

Geralt can feel his composure slip with every word as Jaskier describes in detail all the ways he would fuck him. This isn't normal, he realizes, and maybe it is just Jaskier being himself and being very liberal about who he has sex with, but Geralt doesn't have sex with his friends. Well, he tries not to. Currently, Jaskier is making it difficult for him to say no, even if he knows he should.

And Jaskier is still mumbling against his ear all the filthy things he wants to do to him- and Geralt's thoughts come to a halt at that. The idea that Jaskier wants any of this is absurd to him and yet. Jaskier huffs softly against the side of his neck , pressing his nose behind Geralt's ear. His hands slip over his hips, down his thighs to push them apart and his hand is so close to his cock. If he moved, even just an inch, Jaskier's thumb would rub against him, but he knows if that happened, it would be the end of any discussion.

"Jaskier," he breathes. His head drops back against Jaskier's shoulder inadvertently. Already, he's barely in control of his own body and he realizes somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he wouldn't lose control so easily if he didn't want this so badly.

"Tell me," Jaskier hums, skirting the bulge of Geralt's erection with his thumb, "I'll give you anything you want. Or tell me no and I'll stop." Somehow, the prospect of Jaskier's hands leaving him is worse than whatever repercussions they might face otherwise.

Jaskier's nose presses against the back of his head and Geralt can't find the words to tell him no, wouldn't want to if he could. When Jaskier's fingers brush over his cock, Geralt groans out loud. Jaskier is pressed right against his back now, and he drops his head, nosing at Geralt's neck.

"What do you say, darling? Do you want that?" he pushes his hands down Geralt's stomach, hesitating at the hem of his trousers to give him a chance to say no. A chance to stop this. But Geralt is too far gone now to think about telling him no and Jaskier's hand is a soft relief where it slips down to palm over his clothed cock.

Geralt grits his teeth and bites his tongue as Jaskier squeezes around him; he's not used to being in a place where he's comfortable making too much noise, and most of his lovers prefer him quiet anyway. But Jaskier is different and Geralt should have known.

"You don't have to try so hard, Geralt. You don't have to hold back any longer, it's just me and I want to hear you." He presses his lips to Geralt's neck and lifts his hands to tug at his shirt.

Jaskier makes quick work of getting him out of his clothes and once Geralt is naked, and only feeling a little bit exposed, he lays down on his stomach. But Jaskier quickly eases his discomfort, climbing back up on the bed and settling himself between Geralt's legs. His hands run up the backs of his thighs and Jaskier sighs.

"I was right," he hums, "you look so good like this." His hands move up, squeezing Geralt's ass and his cock aches under him. Jaskier's fingers are so close to where he wants them, just one little move and he could be inside him.

Then all at once, he's gone and. Geralt looks up and finds him crouched over their packs, digging through one of them until he pulls a small bottle out and rises to his feet.

Geralt has seen him naked before, of course, it's inevitable when you travel with someone for as long as they have. But this is different. Jaskier is hard, first of all, which isn't something Geralt expected to have quite the effect on him that it does. His cock juts from his body, curling up like an invitation and Geralt has never wanted to touch someone so badly in his life.

Jaskier catches him watching and crosses back toward the bed. One hand drops to Geralt's ass, squeezing firmly before slipping up his back. He pushes Geralt's hair back from his face, brushing his fingers down his cheek and smiles at him.

"How could anyone not love you?" he whispers, taking in Geralt's confused expression, "you're so beautiful. So good for me, Geralt." Geralt's eyes snap up to his immediately. Oh, that's something. Jaskier just grins at him and climbs back up onto the bed behind him.

Geralt turns his face into his pillow as soft lips press against his calves. He stiffens at the intimacy of it, but Jaskier soothes him with soft touches and even softer kisses that creep slowly up the backs of his legs. When he reaches the swell of his ass, Jaskier’s fingers dig into his skin, squeezing and pushing Geralt's cheeks apart. Geralt's done this before with other men who meant significantly less to him than Jaskier does, so he's not quite sure what makes him anxious about it now. Maybe because it's been so long since or maybe because this is a huge step in their relationship that he never would have made otherwise.

But whatever it is, Jaskier is efficient at helping him relax again, leaning over and breathing soft words into his ear. Geralt knows he doesn't deserve them, that Jaskier is just trying to placate him, but when Jaskier’s cock settles against the back of his thigh, Geralt can almost believe it. Tentatively, he pushes back against him, letting Jaskier's cock slip between his thighs and he gets an appreciative groan in response. Jaskier drops his head, pressing a kiss between Geralt's shoulders.

"That's it, love."

Jaskier runs his hands down his back, settling again between his knees and Geralt feels his breath before anything else, hot against his skin. Then Jaskier's mouth is on him and Geralt sinks into the bed, pressing his hips back. He feels the huff of Jaskier's laugh, but it doesn't stop him from running his tongue over him, pressing against his hole. Geralt moans despite himself, trying hard to remember that he doesn't have to be quiet.

It proves to be difficult as Jaskier's tongue pushes into him and the sounds fall from his lips unbidden. But he's allowed, he reminds himself, no one is going to hear him but Jaskier and he's safe here with Jaskier.

His tongue pushes deeper and Geralt's thighs part seemingly of their own volition to give him better access and Jaskier appreciates it if the way he hums around Geralt's hole is any indication. It spurs him forward if nothing else and Geralt's cock jerks beneath him, neglected and aching.

When Jaskier gets his fingers involved, he goes slow at first, running one slick finger around his hole before pushing in. And Geralt groans into the pillow. One of Jaskier's fingers is the same damn size as his tongue and he tells him exactly that. Jaskier just huffs and kisses his back, pushing his finger into him before drawing back and adding a second. But Geralt is already keyed up beyond words and he doesn't have the patience for slow and steady. He pushes his hips back with a needy moan and Jaskier doesn't hold back.

He slicks both fingers and pushes into him, thrusting a couple of times before pushing deep and seeking out that spot inside him. Geralt shudders with the first pass of his fingers and Jaskier is persistent, rubbing up and thrusting against that spot until Geralt is arching off the bed, hair damp with sweat and sticking to his skin.

"Fuck Geralt," Jaskier breathes, readjusting to lean on his elbow. He bites the flesh of Geralt's ass and kisses the marks from his teeth. "You have no idea what you do to me," he huffs, his words muffled by Geralt's skin, "I can't believe no one will have you like this, you look so good, so good for me."

"You don't mean that," Geralt mumbles, but Jaskier climbs up over him, his fingers still buried as deep as they'll go and he presses his mouth to the back of Geralt's neck.

"I do. You're beautiful," he breathes, "you're a good man, Geralt. You're soft and kind and caring, even if you pretend not to be. And you deserve to know that. You deserve so much more than what you get out of life. Let me give it to you."

Geralt is torn between horrific embarrassment and a surge of arousal because if anyone's opinion actually matters to him, it's Jaskier's. Something warm blooms in his chest and he sighs as Jaskier kisses his neck.

"Let me show you how much I want you," he hums. He withdraws and thrusts in again, quickly picking up the pace until Geralt is moaning obscenely under him, canting his hips into the mattress because he can't help himself any longer. All the while, Jaskier's voice is in his ear, whispering sweet things that he wants so badly to believe.

"Beautiful," he whispers, "perfect. Mine." The last one slips out much more quietly than the rest and Geralt isn't sure he's supposed to hear it but it does something to him that he can't quite explain. And more than ever, he wants to be good for Jaskier, wants to be soft and kind and beautiful and more than that, he wants to be his.

Never once does Geralt ask for anything, but Jaskier seems to know exactly what he wants and Geralt might think he was reading his mind if he didn't know better. He doesn't let up until Geralt's panting turns to muffled warnings, his hips pressed up impatiently.

"Jask-" he mumbles and Jaskier hums against him, panting hard.

"Do you want to come like this?" he asks.

"Want your cock," Geralt huffs and Jaskier lets out a low, desperate groan against his shoulder.

"Fuck, I've waited a long time to hear you say that." Jaskier's fingers slip from his body and he grips Gerlt's hips with both hands. Breathing hard, he kisses his way down Geralt's back, sitting back to kneel between his thighs. He shuffles for a moment before pressing his cock into the cleft of his ass and Geralt thrusts his hips back in his impatience.

Jaskier's cock feels better than it has any right to and Geralt knows he shouldn't be so needy when Jaskier is trying to help, but he's waited so long for this. And he's wanted Jaskier for even longer than that. Jaskier slicks him up with two fingers before working over his cock. Geralt can hear the slick slide of skin on skin and he turns to try and see him, craning his neck, but all he can see is Jaskier's arm moving. He grumbles in disappointment, but Jaskier just pushes his cheeks apart and presses between them.

His cock is slick and hard as it presses into Geralt's body and he shuts his eyes, arching his back with a soft groan. Jaskier gives him a moment to adjust but Geralt takes him easily, lust and impatience winning out over caution and he rocks his hips back onto Jaskier before he's even fully inside.

"Oh, fuck," Jaskier gasps. He surges forward, catching himself with one hand as the other smoothes up Geralt's spine. "You really wanted this, didn't you?"

Heat prickles at the back of Geralt's neck and he’s thankful for his hair covering the only part of his face that isn't pressed into the pillow. He shouldn't want this, shouldn't want Jaskier, but-

"Why didn't you just ask me?" He asks. Geralt grumbles at him and Jaskier leans low over him. "Don't be embarrassed, love, you're incredible like this." He presses his nose to Geralt's ear, humming softly. "I've never wanted you more."

He gives a quick thrust of his hips and a whole other kind of heat licks up Geralt's spine. Just the thought that Jaskier wants him at all, in any context is enough to have him breathless, but then Jaskier pushes all the way into him and Geralt very nearly whimpers. Then he pulls out completely and Geralt leans up to look at him, worried he did something wrong.

But Jaskier has his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and the look he gives Geralt is hot and oddly possessive. He shuffles back out of the way of Geralt's legs and gently nudges his hip, gesturing for him to roll over. And Geralt isn't about to deny him anything when he looks like that, so he readjusts, propping himself up on his arms. He doesn't miss the way Jaskier's eyes roam over his body before he's shuffling close again, shoving his knees under Geralt's thighs and pressing him back against the mattress.

This time, when Jaskier sinks into him, he doesn't hesitate and Geralt's glad to be on his back where he can watch Jaskier's face as he squeezes around him. Jaskier keeps one hand on Geralt's hip as he rocks into him, using the other to map out his chest and waist, fingers slipping lightly over places Geralt didn't even realize were sensitive like that. But what's worse is his voice, constantly telling Geralt how good he is and Geralt wants so badly to believe him. The words sear through him like hot iron and he thought that with all his training and composure it would take more than a couple of words to take him down, but he's learning he was very wrong about that.

Jaskier falls into an easy rhythm, his words equally as arousing as the cock slipping in and out of him, and Geralt reaches for him, aching to touch. Jaskier wraps both arms around his waist and hauls him up into his lap, letting the fingers of one hand slip down to where his cock presses into Geralt's body. Geralt just looks at him with wide eyes and Jaskier grins back at him.

"I'm stronger than I look," he whispers. He shifts under Geralt and gives a sharp thrust of his hips, hitting that spot inside him again and Geralt drops forward against him, pressing his head into Jaskier's shoulder.

"Oh," he moans, shifting to wrap his legs around Jaskier's waist.

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt huffs a muffled mmhm, reaching back to brace himself on Jaskier's knees. "Good. So good for me." He slips his hands down to Geralt's hips, holding him steady as he rocks up into him and Geralt lets himself relax into it.

Jaskier doesn't expect anything from him, wants to fuck him, wants to make him feel good and Geralt lets him for maybe the first time in his life, surrendering control entirely to someone else. Because he trusts Jaskier and because Jaskier does make him feel good, mumbling that he's doing so well and just like that, darling. And when he gets his hand down between them, clever fingers winding around his cock, Geralt almost comes undone right there. His hips buck hard into the dry heat of Jaskier's palm, shaky as he withdraws and pushes forward again with intent.

Jaskier pauses then leans forward over him, pressing their foreheads together. The angle is awkward, and a little uncomfortable, but Jaskier lays him down again, stroking him slowly as he works his hips quickly. Jaskier holds him down and fucks him hard, snapping his hips hard as Geralt mumbles into his neck, nearly incomprehensible. When Geralt comes it's with soft wine, too overwhelmed for anything more than that.

Jaskier continues, fucking him through the aftershocks, pressed up against Geralt's chest with his legs around his ankles. And when he comes, he presses his face into Geralt's shoulder and Geralt runs his fingers through his hair, still unable to speak.

After a moment, Jaskier pulls out and Geralt shifts a little unwilling to admit how much he dislikes losing the feeling of Jaskier's cock inside him. He's not entirely sure what to do with himself now because this was never supposed to happen between them. It was a fantasy - a very far-fetched one, at that - and yet, here they are, Jaskier sweaty and panting next to him and so beautiful Geralt can't help but smile despite his bewilderment.

He's trying to consider what to say - should he thank him? - when Jaskier pushes himself back into a sitting position and moves to lift Geralt's head gently into his lap. He brushes his fingertips along his cheek, runs his fingers through his hair, and Geralt finds himself worrying less. His eyes are heavy, his body still thrumming with a pleasant numbness and Jaskier's fingers are soothing.

"You can sleep," Jaskier whispers, "I've never minded if a lover falls asleep on me, just means they enjoyed themselves."

A lover. Geralt turns the words over in his head and decides he likes the way they fit. Likes the idea of being Jaskier's lover. Blinking up at him, Geralt reaches up, curling his fingers around the back of Jaskier's neck and guiding him down. It has to be an uncomfortable angle for Jaskier, but he doesn't complain or pull back and when their lips brush together, he lets out a soft little sound and shifts to adjust his position. His mouth is soft and wanting and his fingers slip around the back of Geralt's head to keep him close.

And then, seemingly in an instant, it's over and Geralt is left staring up at him, unsure all over again. But Jaskier smiles at him and brushes his thumb over Geralt's cheek.

"You really are so beautiful," he mumbles, as though to himself. "I don't deserve you." Geralt huffs and turns away from him, but Jaskier just tips his head back. "I want you to know you can ask me for anything. I wish you'd come to me earlier, you shouldn't have to suffer because of the ignorance of others."

"I'm not going to do that to you-"

Jaskier laughs, soft and gentle. "Do that to me?" he asks incredulously, "darling I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say you want me. You could come back every night and climb into bed with me and I'd still want more."

He's not sure why exactly, but Geralt blurts out, "he reminded me of you."

"What?"

"The whore. The reason I was... irritable when I came back. They wouldn't let me talk to him, but he reminded me of you."

"Oh? You went to a prostitute who reminded you of me?" Geralt mumbles but doesn't confirm nor deny. "Geralt I love you, truly, but you are a bit daft sometimes. Why on earth wouldn't you just come to me in the first place."

His heart beats much faster than it should and Geralt does everything he can to ignore the nonchalance with which Jaskier says he loves him - because the idea is absurd. "I didn't think you'd want me."

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, all dark and moody in your corner." He flashes a smile and Geralt turns away to keep from saying too much. Jaskier ducks down and kisses his cheek. "But sleep now, we can talk about it in the morning."

Geralt forces back the urge to protest, to assure Jaskier that he's wrong about him. But he knows it wouldn't do him any good and Jaskier is persistent - maybe there is something to the things he's always saying. Geralt settles, lets the stress seep out of his body as Jaskier's hands move over his shoulders. He shuts his eyes but still manages to pull Jaskier down into a soft, slow kiss.

It lasts longer this time. Jaskier doesn't pull away despite the discomfort he must be feeling and if anything, when Geralt hesitates, when he gives him a chance to stop, Jaskier presses forward. And Geralt thinks, as Jaskier's tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, that if the next couple of days are like this, the rest of their stay in Novigrad might not be so bad.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #rex writes

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ofcowardiceandkings · 4 years

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UH WHOA not only am i posting art but theres so much of it lmfao

ive been meaning to do this for mmmm a long time, and i decided to get it cleaned up so i can present folks with my homebrew/headcanon/thingy for the d&d playable races !! i know ive missed a few off but these are ones ive seen more of over all in my own travels in Nerd Game lol

ive only DMed one thing so far (our lost mines of phandelver adventure was a total blast but oh boy the shenanigans) but im like ... drowning in it all, have been for a loooonng time since i first played Neverwinter Nights when i was like 11, i just didnt have a party to mess with yet lmao (fingers crossed our schedules get sorted so the campaign goes ahead soooooonnn).. so ive been developing some of these various homebrewy headcanons for uh over half my life

getting them all together in one place like this was unbelievably fun !!

gonna yell under the cut for a bit about it more but very shortly i’ll be opening for d&d character / item / creature commissions so watch this space or pop me a message to get in a queue <3

these headcanon things are half based on “that looks cool” and Sciencing. a lot of the more humanoid in some way races ive really pulled on human ancestors a lot, as well as muscle development in different sports. And Animals, because ye

i haven’t included humans in this mammoth endeavour because we should all know what a Human People looks like, and their proportions aren’t any different in the world of D&D i run at least lol similarly, because they’re an exact intersection between humans & either elves or orcs, the half-species arent included on here either [shrugs] i WILL talk about them some here though !!

i might eventually update this with some npc generators ive made using my own descriptors and headcanons >.>

ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.5 generally long limbed, with fine wispy hair, elves senses are very heightened. helping in this, their eyes are almond-shaped with slightly narrow pupils, their large radar-like ears are very mobile, and the underside of their noses are covered in a lightly damp pitted leather. part of their ability to maintain grace with an elongated frame, aside from longer springy feet, is aided by a tail built somewhat like a horse, with a skirt of hair down its length, only with a slightly longer bone to it than would be seen in the typical pony. excepting a very light dusting on their lower limbs, they typically have very little body hair. sometimes their skin shimmers, or freckles sparkle.

GNOME av height; 3′6 | heads-high; 6.5 gnomes are almost like diminutive elves with a few key differences. their hair tends to be wild if left alone, but is often styled wildly anyway. set rather low on rounded but long faces, their large almond eyes are keen, and small hands very nimble. it’s not sure if its due to their close environments or frequent encounters with accidents in experiments, but their skulls are surprisingly hard, and they possess small horn nubs made of bone and coated in keratin. their small petal-shaped ears are set low and point outward, and are able to move a little to catch sound. they may look fragile due to their size and build but they are pretty hardy and more than capable.

HALFLING av height; 3′ | heads-high; 6 a very hardy but soft and welcoming folk, halflings are built for walking and surviving well, often coming from a semi-nomadic tradition. they typically have round faces with stronger jaws and soft round eyes, and their large ears are pointed upright. their figures easily get a little curved and chubby, especially when they have easy access to decent food, in preparation for harder times and the odd period of hunkering down for some downtime, say in poor weather. truly the most functional part of a halfling is their short powerful legs with big fairly flexible hard feet, and lion-like tail for balance, both insulated by hair.

DWARF av height; 4′3 | heads-high; 6.5 dwarves are accustomed to life in tougher terrain, typically with large parts spent in the ground. their broad frames are also squat down with thick short limbs, for huge power and for life in tunnels. wide feet keep them steady and sensitive to significant seismic energy in the earth, and wide hands aid in their work and the feel of the rock. their large round ears stick outward and are slightly mobile, large noses help condition the air, and high-set eyes with huge irises aid their vision in darker spaces and the ability to peek over things without being fully exposed. their skulls are also very thick just in case of falling rocks. all dwarves are very hairy and grow beards, taking pride in keeping and styling it.

GOLIATH av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 10 a totally different variety of rock & mountain people to dwarves, they do share a few traits. a goliath’s thick limbs are long with a big reach and huge stride, with big hands and feet for steady movement. as well as being hugely tall, they are broad, especially in their shoulders, with a long neck elevating their head further. their facial features tend to be very sharp, but long. they have little to no body hair, and they often dont grow head hair either, but decorate their skulls with tattoos. as they get older, the upper surfaces of their body develop pebble like growths under the skin, often in similar patterns to their habitats.

FIRBOLG av height; 7′6 | heads high; 9 firbolg typically live in deep forests but are actually a giantkin - although not too unbelievable given their huge height and thick build. large parts of their body are hairy, nearly furry, and their head hair is thick and wild, and they often have facial hair too. their large heads have long thick noses with an almost bovine leather to their top lips, and wide set eyes. their fluffy ears are very mobile, but when relaxed they drop and point downward. their nails are thick and sturdy, aiding in being even more dexterous while being so big. sometimes they are covered in layers of clothing, but they possess a tiny goat-like tail.

DRAGONBORN av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8 dragonborns diverged from true dragons in the ancient past, likely due to a strong magical influence of some kind, but not so long ago that the bloodlines of dragons are absent from the race of dragonborn. (the illustration shows the typical head-shape and placement of ears, each bloodline has its own features). their chest is still very round like an animal, with deep chest muscles, a slightly less mobile shoulder, and short upper arm. their 4 clawed hands and feet somewhat resemble that of a true dragon, but smaller and a little less dangerous. the length of a dragonborn’s tail can vary from just the length from hips to floor, or up to their full height, and as well as being very useful for balance and dexterity, can be used for fighting. different bloodlines can interbreed, with it being a matter of chance which line is present in offspring (although metallic is more dominant over gemstone, and chromatic over both ... (ah yeah gemstone, ill get to that soon))

AARAKOCRA av height; 5′ | heads-high; 8.5 as an avian species, especially one capable of flight, the aarakocra’s bones are hollow, making them on the one hand very agile but a little fragile. their large wingspan nearly brushes the floor, and their wings attach high on their back, through to a deep avian keel. their arms have a long forearm, which is covered in bird-like scutes, and their 4 clawed hands are still remarkably talon like which quite short palms and very mobile thumbs. their legs are very long and powerful, and backed by a typically wedge shaped tail. more often than not, their physical appearance takes after raptor species of birds, but different populations can trend towards many different appearances, including parrots and waterfowl.

TABAXI av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 9 tabaxi are an unusual sight in many places still. their cat-like bodies are very flexible and suited to their athletic climbing lifestyle. their long hands and feet have very a powerful grip, and they can retract their front claws. their long feline face is something like a cheetah or a clouded-leopard, with large highly mobile ears, large eyes and a strong nose.

ORC

av height; 6′6 | heads-high; 8

orcs are very powerfully build, with heavy muscles and thick bodies overall. compared to other humanoids they can look a little gorilla-like. their short legs are usually a little bent to carry weight better instead of busting knees when locked. their course wiry hair grows profusely all over their body. their strong nails often grow out a little pointed. their large thick heads have high heavy brows and protruding lower jaws, short round noses and low bud-shaped ears which stick outward. the lower jaw and sometimes upper contain tusks, sometimes multiple tusks, which are greatly cared for and very impressive.

HALF-ELVES av height; 5′6 | heads-high; 8.25 a half-elf’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an elf’s eyes and nose leather, shorter elf ears, and maybe a small tufted tail something like a rabbits

HALF-ORCS av height; 6′ | heads-high; 8 a half-orc’s build will be somewhere between human and elf, often inheriting something of an orc’s skin colour and dark and profuse wiry hair, shorter orc ears, and some small tusks.

GOBLIN av height; 4′ (stood straight) | heads high; 5.5 bat/cat-like ears, nose something like bear/cat, domed head, arms/legs same length, sparse wiry hair, claws, short digits, lithe but very strong and hardy

HOBGOBLIN av height; 5′3 (stood straight) | heads high; 8 bat/cat-like ears but pinched at the base, nose something like bear/cat, very domed head, arms slightly longer than legs, claws, sparse wiry hair, quite broad

BUGBEAR av height; 7′ (stood straight) | heads high; 7.5 bat-like ears, long domed head something like a lion/bear, arms very long, nearly totally covered in thick fur, big tusks and often fangs, very bear-like hands/feet, big claws, very broad

TRITON av height; 5′2 | heads high; 7.5 lithe but well muscled, quite streamlined for a humanoid, frilled ears, pretty flat face, fins on limbs/back, “hair” is tendrils/fins/etc, short strong legs & long arms, long webbed fingers, long flipper feet, gills along front/side of chest

YUAN-TI PUREBLOOD av height; 5′9 | heads high; 9 domed angular faces, lips are not humanoid, triangular eyes, scales, quite flat nostrils with sense pits following along underside cheekbones, very little cartilage in ear, some may have cobra hoods extending out of ear instead, very tall and thin with small hands/feet, reptilian claws

CENTAUR av height; 7′ | heads high; 10 fairly stocky pony body (usually about 4′10 at withers), very muscled front end, long neck & sloping human-shoulders, long faces with long broad noses, prominent lips, horse-like ears sticking up and out, their whole scalp can grow hair but shaved sides are common, can grow hair nearly all down human-spine

KOBOLD av height; 2′6 | heads high; 5.5 almost alligator-like head & eyes, tiny nub horns, quite animal-like chest, arms/legs same length, thick stubby tail same length of body, 4 digits with stubby claws, lithe but strong for their tiny size

KENKU av height; 4′ | heads high; 5.5 corvid features, deep chest but no keel, longer arms than legs, 4 digits with talons, hands human-like but scaled, wedge-like tail half of leg height, not-quite fully bird feet.

LIZARDFOLK av height; 6′6 | heads high; 7 iguana-like, egg-shaped head, neck wattle, line of back spines varies in height, long arms and legs, very reptilian hands and feet with long claws, elbow spikes

GRUNG av height; 3′ | heads high; 6.5 large heads, neck leads nearly directly into torso, super flexible, very long limbs, triangular body, short upper arm, shorter thigh, large hands/feet, 4 digits

LOXODON av height; 7′6 | heads high; 5.5 large head, trunk as long as torso, short legs / long arms, huge bones under thick muscle, thick skin, 4 digits with thick nails, large hands / rounded cushioned feet, v e r y broad and thick build, small tail with tuft at the end,

TORTLE av height; 7′6 | heads-high; 7 thick wrinkled skin encased in huge shell, stooping posture with neck extending forward, very long arms & short legs, 5 digits with reptilian claws, boxy head, heart shaped from above with features set far forward, tail to balance stoop

MINOTAUR av height; 7′ | heads-high; 9 powerful build with thick bones, typically well muscled, bovine head on thick neck, often very large horns, fairly long tufted tail, big hooved feet, broad 4 digit hands with thick nails, hair length varies

PLANE THINGS ???

listen this was a lot easier in the edition i first encountered lol anyway, until anything else comes up in extra material im just applying a few square & rectangle venn diagram rules

a useful word; planetouched. i dont really know why WotC seems to have dropped that term for at least 5e (i missed 4e entirely) but it refers to a “mortal native outsider” with lineage or influence from a plane other than the material, so “a material plane native creature with non-native plane influence, which can die”

GENASI height depends on material plane parent the result of a material plane / elemental pair (usually genies). they usually take after their material parent in build and broader features, but their elemental heritage comes through in features like magical hair, bright coloured eyes, unusual body temperatures, innate magics, etc. genasi can interbreed with themselves, and the crossing of two elements can produce some interesting results (im working on that :>)

TIEFLINGS height depends on material plane parents this is the first of the squares & rectangles, and tbh its basically canonical. a tiefling is the result of a material plane humanoid being born with fiendish* influence. the word ‘tiefling’ refers specifically to a human with fiendish influence, but is also an umbrella term for ALL fiendish planetouched creatures. these DO have some names mentioned in the play material ! fey’ri = elves, tanarukk = orcs, wisplings = halflings, maeluth = dwarves, etc. so all fiendish planetouched are tieflings, but not all tieflings are human-based. the fiendish influence can be dormant for years or just string along for decades. AnyWay, all of them have horns, most have tails, odd skin or eye colour, and others can have all sorts of extraplanar features. *(fiends are another venn diagram thing in D&D, its an umbrella term for both demons and devils)

AASIMAR height depends on material plane parents aaand this is the second of the squares & rectangles, the not-strictly-canon one. okay duplicate what i said about tieflings, but make it about celestials not fiends, basically lmao. aasimar is an umbrella term, but also a human/celestial planetouched specifically! unlike the above, since its my homebrew concept i dont have other words specifically for other races’ celestial planetouched, but i’ll get there watch this space lol EnyHoo, they all tend to have a strange glow about them in general, but usually in their eyes, and maybe hair especially. it isnt uncommon for them to have a kind of halo around themselves, or glowing glyphs/runes/sigils on or around them either. while MOST dont have full wings, a dusting of feathers isnt unusual. the features of celestials can vary a lot more. for example, unicorns and leonals are actually celestials!

aaand the slightly odd-ball;

WARFORGED height depends on build purpose these are an interesting case, as warforged are actually constructs, brought into this world by the fusing of organic muscle (like wood or leathery material) to an inorganic shell (like stone or metal), imbuing a life-giving fluid of some sort to act like blood, and bringing life to it by a powerful ritual - a unique glyph etched into their heads. as their name suggests they are usually created to become soldiers, or other army positions, although they could be suited to other purposes. unlike most constructs, they are fully self-aware and have a mind on par with humans. they do not need sleep (but require rest) and they also do not naturally reproduce. if they live longer than their purpose, then they are turned loose to deal with the world as they wish. as they are MADE they can vary greatly depending on who made them, and for what exact purpose - although they tend to have beak-like mouths, and 3 digit hands and 2 toed feet.

AV. HEIGHT CHART FROM LEFT TO RIGHT !!! human - elf - dwarf - gnome - halfling - orc - goliath - firbolg - dragonborn - aarakocra - tabaxi - kenku - hobgoblin - bugbear - yuanti - triton - kobold - grung - lizardfolk - tortle - centaur - minotaur - loxodon

oooboy that was a lot of waffle :L

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bloededhoine · 3 years

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world building cause twn doesn't part 4: elves!

everyone loves elves! they're a fantasy genre mainstay, archery is so sexy, and they have those E A R S. plus, they play a pretty important part in the witcher universe!

series masterpost

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

background

i'd recommend going through the last parts, or at least the tl;dr's first

elves arrived on the continent about 2000 years before humans, and are divided into 5 distinct cultures of varying importance: aen undod, aen elle, aen seidhe, black seidhe, and aen woedde

elves only came to the continent in one group, but not all of that group stayed. the different branches based on where they settled make up the different cultures

the main two languages in the witcher are common speech and elder speech (aka hen llinge), the former used by most humans and the latter used by the elder races

aen undod

the aen undod are the oldest elven culture, having existed years before the conjunction of spheres

their home world faced some huge catastrophe, so the aen undod left in search of new worlds, leaving their descendants to become all the future elven cultures.

the aen undod spoke the oldest dialect of elder speech, laith aen undod, or one speech

aen elle

the aen elle use a language derived from hen llinge called ellylon, in which their name means "of the alders"

they don't actually live on the continent, having abandoned it years ago for their own world.

however, when the aen elle arrived in this new world, it was already populated by humans and unicorns. unfortunately, these elves are notoriously ruthless and both the native species were eradicated.

the capital of the aen elle world is tir ná lia, and is described as stunningly beautiful, featuring open air buildings made of marble, alabaster, and malachite. here it is in the third witcher video game, by djkovrik on nexus. their screenshots are amazing btw.

[ID: screenshot from wild hunt showing tir ná lia. the city is built on cliffs above a sea, there are waterfalls falling from the cliffs and bridges connecting them. there are mountains in the background and the buildings are fairly small and out of focus, they seem to be in the gothic revival style with ornate windows and steeped roofs. end ID]

the ruler of the aen elle was auberon muircetach, king of the alders and aen saevherne (aen saevherne is the honorary title of an elven mage who has extensive knowledge of magic, geneology, history, and many other subjects). auberon was also ciri's 5 times great grandfather. this gwent card pretty much sums up his vibe: scary yet sexy.

[ID: illustration of elven man with long white hair on a brown horse. he has defined cheekbones and facial features and is wearing a gold crown and blue robes with a red sash, gold belt, and leather boots. he is holding a white unicorn head in one hand. the unicorn's horn is cut off, and is bloody around its neck and where its horn was. end ID]

auberon's consort was another aen elle named shiadhal, with whom he had one daughter, lara dorren. lara is so so so important for the witcher, as she is the beginning of the elder blood, or hen ichaer.

hen ichaer is a gene that carries incredibly powerful magic, and those who have it are usually sources. i talk more abt this in part 3.

for better or for worse, lara dorren fell in love with a human sorcerer, cregennan of lod, and left tir ná lia for him. auberon took this as cregennan "stealing" his daughter and therefore the hen ichaer, and developed a pretty hefty vengeance and dedication to "take back" what was his (yikes).

this also set a precedent of people "claiming" the lives of carriers of the hen ichaer

auberon also formed an elven cavalry known as the red riders or wild hunt (dearg ruadhri in ellylon) and he appointed eredin bréacc glas as their commander. the initial purpose of the wild hunt was to travel to different worlds and capture slaves for tir ná lia, although they later became auberon's tool to find and exploit carriers of hen ichaer.

the wild hunt also uses specially trained mages known as navigators to open portals to other worlds, the most notable of these navigators is caranthir ar-feiniel, who doubled as one of eredin's most trusted men.

the aen elle also live a pretty long time, average is around 650 years, so the timelines are kinda hard to keep track of.

notable aen elle include: auberon muircetach, shiadhal, lara dorren, eredin breácc glas, crevan espane aep caomhan macha (aka avallac'h, also an aen saevherne and lara dorren's ex), caranthir ar-feiniel (also avallac'h's foster son), ge'els (the viceroy of tir ná lia), and imlerith (general of the wild hunt)

aen seidhe

put simply, the aen seidhe are the elves that did not leave when the aen elle did

the aen seidhe don't really have a society like the aen elle, they're pretty dispersed across the world. but, there are certain areas the aen seidhe have claimed as their own.

one of these little civilizations is dol blathanna, also known as the valley of flowers. unfortunately, it's not an independent state, as it was conquered by aedirn in the 1150s. however, then-king baldwin thyssen did allow the elves to retain a lot of their cultural identity and live in peace.

dol blathanna includes the village posada and the capital silver towers, which is where filavandrel aén findháil is from. he's that sexy man right there

[ID: photo of white elf man with blonde hair going to his shoulders. he is wearing tattered green robes and is looking slightly to the side with his lips pursed. end ID]

not that anyone cares, but here's him in the hexer. it's not important to the lore or twn it's just fuckin funny

[ID: old man with white frizzy wig. he is wearing a headband that appears to be rocks on a string. he has what looks like a potato sack tied around his shoulders over a green tunic. he is scowling. end ID]

outside of dol blathanna, there aren't really any places where elves can live with minimal human interaction, although the blue mountains are home to a few incredibly powerful elves

side note: dol blathanna is technically part of the blue mountains, but is in the far southern foothills so they're usually treated as separate entities.

the blue mountains are also a natural border dividing the northern kingdoms from the far east, and where filavandrel went to live after he got fed up with dol blathanna.

they're also the home of ida emean aep sivney, who's also an aen saevherne and future member of the lodge of sorceresses.

next season, we're going to meet the beautiful elven sorceress francesca findabair, also known as enid an gleanna (hen llinge for daisy of the valley)

here she is with fringilla vigo (nilfgaardian sorceress) in twn season 2. note that enid is preggers! that's very odd and i will go into detail on it later

[ID: photo of two women walking side by side. the one on the left is black and has black hair in braids going over one shoulder. she is wearing a silver dress with a similarly coloured floor length coat. the one on the right is biracial and has strawberry blonde hair in a braided updo. she is wearing a floor length blue gown with gold embroidery and a metallic brown cloak. she is pregnant. end ID]

enid is crazy interesting and important for the story of the witcher (and confirmed for season two!), so i won't go too in depth about her now

as i mentioned in part 2, nilfgaard tends to favour elves, leading to a lot of militaristic forces allied with nilfgaard. most notably, the scoia'tael, or squirrels. the scoia'tael are an incredibly ruthless and effective nonhuman guerilla force, generally divided into commandos, units that patrol a given area and eliminate the northern (or simply human) threat.

there are a lot of scoia'tael, so i'll just give you the commanders for now: angus bri cri, coinneach dá reo, iorveth, isengrim faoiltiarna, riordain, and toruviel.

you might remember toruviel as this sexy angry lady from twn, and she is possibly going to get a much bigger role later... pay attention to toruviel.

[ID: young elf woman with white skin and red hair tied over her shoulder. she has a bloody nose and is wearing a light green top with a dark brown leather studded belt. her belt is also around an olive green coat. she looks quite angry. end ID]

the scoia'tael were very well organized, but also quite dispersed, so when nilfgaard needed more specific tasks done, they would assemble specific military units (usually led by some of our favourite squirrels)

the vrihedd brigade was the most important of these units. they were especially notorious for their cruelty in the second northern war, so i'm sure we'll meet at least a few members next season.

their leader was colonel isengrim faoiltiarna (aka the iron wolf), and his officers coinneach, iorveth, riordain, and angus.

francesca findabair is not directly involved with either the scoia'tael or the vrihedd brigade, but she does work quite closely with them very often.

also important to note that not all scoia'tael are aen seidhe elves, most (including all higher ranking commanders and officers) are, but there are a number of nonhumans including dwarves and halflings.

unfortunately, the aen seidhe are slowly going extinct, both from years of genocide from humans and their slow reproductive cycles (elves live a Long time, but can only have children towards the beginning of their lives)

that's why it's so surprising to me that enid is preggers! we don't exactly know her age, but by my calculations she was over 150 in twn (pretty far past the age elves can have children).

because of this, elves are pretty divided between fighting against human rule and seeking coexistence. there are arguments for both camps, mainly that humans are colonizers and should not be trusted for the former, and that elves are dying out already and need to live with humans to survive for the latter.

the most prominent stand for the fight was in the 1060s when an aen seidhe named aelireen led an uprising against humans. most of the elders told her that it wouldn't end well, but she didn't listen and led hundreds of young elves into battle. it was an utter massacre, and basically all elves who could have children died.

yikes

unfortunately, the movement for coexistence was just as unsuccessful. it was led by our man cregennan of lod, lara dorren's husband. the poor simp just wanted to live in peace with his wife, but a lot of humans thought he was a traitor because he married an elf, and he and lara were murdered in 1137 in redania.

the last real push for independence was with the formation of the scoia'tael in the 1260s. I say 1260s because the very beginnings of the scoia'tael were right around 1262-1236 (the start of ciri's timeline) but they became majorly important around 1267. although, even the scoia'tael realized they needed humans to survive and began working with nilfgaard.

however, some scoia'tael are less keen on being nilfgaard's attack dogs, leading to further division amongst the aen seidhe.

black seidhe

remember the elves i talked about in part 2 as being the ancestors of the albans? this is them!

the black seidhe are native to the south, more particularly the valley around the alba river. they are practically extinct, but the nilfgaardians carry a lot of their cultural identity in the nilfgaardian language, a variation of hen llinge.

aen woedde

the wood elves, or aen woedde, is the elven culture we know the least about, they primarily live in the areas around nilfgaardian forests and speak hen llinge.

the only notable wood elf is aenyeweddien, or iskra, a member of the rats, a gang of semi violent youths in the northern realms. we'll learn more about the rats in future seasons.

tl;dr: elves, especially the aen seidhe and aen elle cultures, make up a large part of witcher lore. they are most notable for their long lifespans, magical and historical knowledge, and militaristic alliances with nilfgaard.

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misterewrites · 3 years

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Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

#Original Work #original story #my work #Mirrors edge story

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