#frost & fire excerpt

[relaxartworld]

Fire and Ice ✒️📜 a poem by Robert Frost (subtitled excerpt - PART 1) FULL POEM VIDEO ▶️ https://youtu.be/1BRuq4m6FDA 👈

"Fire and Ice" is a poem about destruction, about the inevitable demise that hatred and obsession will bring. Frost ponder which of the two elements would bring the end, or demise: fire or ice.

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for worldbuilding (pt. 2)

ANIMALS

Animal: adult, beast, buck, cat, chicken, cur, father, frog, goat, half-breed, horse, hybrid, litter, mongrel, monster, parasite, pig, stock, young

Bird: bird, chicken

Fish: aquarium, aquatic

Group of animals: drove, herd, insect, pack, stock, team

Insect: bee, grub, pest

Limb or appendage of: bill, coat, feather, fur, mop, pelt, scale, trunk, wing

Mammal: cat, dog, father, goat, hound, mother, pig

CLOTHING

Accessory: bag, belt, buckle, collar, pocketbook, purse, satchel

Clothing: apparel, array, bathing suit, cape, clothes/clothing, costume, dress, dungarees, falsies, frock, garment, girdle, gown, hat, jacket, negligee, nylons, pajamas, pants, quilt, scarf, skirt, suit, swimsuit, thing/things, trappings, underwear, veil, wash, wrap

Part: collar, crown, pocket, strand, tiara

State of dress: bareness, nudity, try on/try out, wear

FOOD & DRINK

Beverage: alcohol, coffee, drink, potable

Beverage, alcoholic: beer, liquor

Change in: curdle, turn

Food: appetizer, bite, brew, bun, casserole, condiment, cracker, diet, doughnut, feed, frosting, grub, helping, hors d’oeuvre, leftover, macaroni, meat, nosh, nurture, nutrition, pastry, produce, refreshment, seasoning, stew, subsistence, support, sweet, treat, vittles

Food part: morsel, nip, taste, tidbit

Meal: banquet, bite, buffet, diet, fare, picnic, repast, spread, table

Produced from animal: comfort food, feed, food, frosting, grub, hero, macaroni, sandwich, submarine, vittles

Produced from plant: condiment, doughnut, loaf, pastry, produce, sweet

Quality of: acerbity, baked, done, edible, mellow, nourishing, perishable, rare, ripe, salty, short, stale, strong, sweet, unappetizing, weak, wholesome

NATURAL RESOURCES

Electricity: beam, spark

Energy: electricity, fuel, nuclear energy, petroleum, power

Expression of energy: blast, bonfire, chill, concussion, discharge, fire, flash, noise, thunder

Natural event: eclipse, meteorology, weather

Resources: fuel, resource, rock, substance

PLANTS

Flower: bloom, bouquet, flower

Fruit: berry, produce

Growth or death of: bloom, bud, germinate, growth, wilt, wither

Part: bark, branch, cereal, flavoring, foliage, grain, juice, limb, nut, pod, scion, shell, stalk, trunk

Plant: algae, bramble, bush, crop, fossil, grass, harvest, hybrid, organism, produce, wreath

Tree: timber, wood/woods

Vegetable: produce

WEATHER

Object connected with: avalanche, breeze, climate, cold, dew, film, flurry, frost, gust, haze, hurricane, meteorology, moisture, puff, thunder, weather, wind

Quality of: breezy, clear, close, crisp, dismal, fair, fiercely, fine, furious, gloomy, hazy, humid, intimidating, misty, oppressive, raw, rugged, soft, stormy, sultry, temperate, thick, tranquil, turbulent, wild, wintry

Type of: blizzard, cloud, drizzle, fog, hail, mist, puff, rain, shower, tempest, torrent, tremor

NOTE

Excerpted from Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, Updated and Expanded 3rd Edition, in Dictionary Form, edited by The Princeton Language Institute.

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

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[burning-thistles-bt]

actually, i really love Frosted Thistles/Burning Thistles Reflamed Frostfur lol... i wish we could have shown her pre-cultist more, she's so fun and silly

this just makes me giggle idk why, its just so funny to me that i have a bunch of blank titles and then was abruptly like "ah, yes, I know the perfect name for this chapter, of course"

(to be fair, it's a very funny chapter)

[britcision]

Alright I went through more of the new Discworld audiobooks last night so an uncomprehensive review list:

Maskerade: fucking EXCELLENT, they did Agnes’s audition in such a cool fucking way this alone makes it all worth while. Even having a 5 second pause, sparkle music, and then a Different Fucking Person reading every footnote. And DILF Death. Will try the rest of the Witches and see if their “Magrat” is one or two words when used more. Indira Varma crushed it

Death/Susan books: good narrator, sounds interesting, gonna start with Soul Music because again, sonically interesting 👀 Sian Clifford (I assume) does a very good Susan voice and shows aging from Soul Music to Hogfather

Watch books: Nope. Nope. 0/10 completely misunderstood the assignment. His different voices for characters are SPECTACULAR Jon Culshaw is an excellent voice actor! But every other thing is just. Wrong.

His inflections are off, the pacing is wrong for the excerpts in the sample, the tone of the narration swings from “reading to small children” with over-exaggerated emotion and surprise at things like the first description of a golem in Feet Of Clay to “gritty noir novel” for the other books and all Vimes scenes and Neither Of Those Are Right

The Watch books are not gritty noir novels. Vimes is pretty blatantly a satirical deconstruction of a gritty noir detective - by The End Of The First Book he’d be fired from gritty noir for finding love and quitting drinking

The Watch books are police procedurals, detective thrillers, mysteries, sure, all distinct from the other series. They’re not the best for young kids. They’re not fucking noir. The noir elements like the descriptions of the city, the rainy nights, Vimes’ cynicism, are immediately undercut by jokes

Carrot, good mountain dwarf by way of Lancre, has a fucking posh city accent???? By Men At Arms?????

(Did like that Edward d’Eath is de-ath not de-eth like Nigel Planar’s)

On the whole, sounds like they used the old Artemis Fowls for a template and nailed that tone, which is absolutely wrong for Vimes

Moist von Lipwigs books: minor Rise of the Guardians Jack Frost vibes, I was not expecting that low of a voice from the narrator but Richard Coyle also does great voices

Moist is… a little weirdly emotive in his first cell like he’s got no real mask between his actual feelings and talking to the warders but that might improve. Will try

Rincewind books: interesting accent on the main narration, more distinct than any of the other narrators, with interesting inflections. I like it. I predict it making The Last Continent very interesting. Colin Morgan’s got a good clear voice, will try

[specific-dreamer]

it’s me…. the ghost of askbox-mas past…… back to offer you an olive branch for cheating on you with everyandanything that one time 😭😭😭😭😭

I’ve tortured them enough, I must return to my original victim 🤝 so I bring you…… a resurrection au……….. there was a show I was obsessed with when I was like 12 where a bunch of people in this small town started coming back to life still at the same age they were when the died and I- recently found it again and ofc had 8million thoughts bc I can’t consume anything without turning it into an au including my favorite characters 👹 the idea quite literally has nothing to do with the show except for the coming back from the dead thing but regardless !!!!!! let’s get into it… and by it I mean 😏 bare bones bullet point excerpts 😏

johnny cade hath risen ! he wakes up in the water, the sun almost red as it begins to set, cold and alone and dark beneath the surface he kicks through, the thin layer of frost settling over top breaking over his head and melting away. he can’t tell whether he should be panicking or not, he most certainly remembers slipping away in the hospital small and dead staring at the bright lights in his room, he recognizes the trees as he pulls himself out of the cold water and onto the scratchy half green half yellow grass. that big one with the sparse but curly leaves used to mostly hide behind a rotting wooden steeple…. if he sniffs the air he might be able to smell fire, it almost dries him up, those imaginary flames, the church… the kids… the trees. windrixville? but how? how was there water here… a storm maybe? most of all, as he rolls onto his back letting himself catch breath that he didn’t realize he’d been missing out on, how the /fuck/ is he here? why? his heart or something like it hammers inside him a million different memories hitting him at once.

(the church set from the movie is underwater in present day so it’s ummm 100% going in the notebook lmao)

he’d been walking for hours now, slowly drying off as he follows the train tracks as best as he remembers back to Tulsa. his legs are shaky, unused for he’s not sure how long, and his fingers are frozen despite tucking his hands in his armpits, the sun leaves behind a few pink clouds as the sky turns dark. he stops beneath a street light and looks out at the town that had snuck up on him, familiar but not quite as inviting, shadows from trees and street signs spiking out on the blacktop as if they don’t want him there, as if they’re keeping his own neighborhood from him, his clothes are still wet but he isn’t sure if his trembling is because of the cold or something different.

it doesn’t take long for him to find the lot, to pass it by and turn down the block. he moves without having to think about it, muscle memory or something he’d heard of, he knows where he wants to go before anything. a patter of tiny feet crunches over the leaves in the street and race beneath a car in some random’s driveway and he about jumps out of his skin, he approaches the car slowly, against his better judgment he supposes, and kneels to look under it, barely able to see in the dark even with another street light above him. two glowing eyes peer back at him and there’s a low growling sound coming from its head. he recognizes her, a little cat he had befriended the year before everything and happened, she’d been scraggly and young and attached herself to him pretty quickly. he calls to her, “missy” psst-ing between his teeth and snapping his fingers softly to coax her out, she comes, sniffing his hand on low-to-the-ground legs with flat ears and spiked back fur before she growls again and hisses, swatting him with her paw. a long scratch down his pointer finger beginning to drip on the sidewalk. he stands and watches her hiss again and swat again this time at his shoe before scampering away into the bushes, tries not to let it hurt his feelings too much that his kitty doesn’t seem to recognize him anymore… or maybe it was that cats could smell death, he thinks he’d heard that before, maybe Two drunk and rambling… or Buck making awkward conversation while waiting on Dal… or Pony… /Pony/… he wipes his finger off on a wet patch on his vest and keeps going on..

at least he can still bleed… gotta count for something right? ghosts can’t… or shouldn’t…

the porch is still lit up at whatever time it is now since he’d gotten out of the church-lake. he reaches over the gate and unhooks the hatch, letting it swing itself open for a bit before stepping onto the concrete walkway with jittery breath caught in his lungs. the old car is still sitting in the weeds but small flowers grow up with them. the screen is closed but the main door stays open and he can hear the commotion inside, laughing, TV, something sizzling on the stove. he hugs himself while he makes his way up the stoop, sucking in air as he taps his knuckles on the spotty black metal. one of the people inside the house calls something over their shoulder, moving through shadow and opening the door, and…

Johnny had seen Darry mad hundreds of times, lots of the time he could understand why too though he’d never tell that to Pony in a million years, but this feels different. the comfortable smile on his face falls away in a second, replaced by /Anger/ and something sort of like disgust, like something in his drink is sour, like he’s three seconds away from throwing said drink in his face. “another one” he calls over his shoulder. johnny steps back confused. “dar-” “we let you boys have your fun but it’s time to stop, ‘know you’re really lucky he ain’t here or I don’t think I’d be able to stop-” he cuts himself off flaring his nose, “I don’t wanna be gettin no kids in trouble but I’ll take you to the station myself if I have’ta”

“dar what’s the-” sodapop appears over his shoulder and makes that same face.

🪦🪱🏚️🍃

…….bye !

first, bullet points my ass. this is half a fic and i am hooked, loudly requesting the rest

wdym another one are the socs doing this often wtf and why was he all the way back at the church omg

second what show is this ?? i’m hooked and now i’d like to watch it akjssj

[petitprincess1]

hey can you verify any of the claims against viv here?

I know what you're referring to, since you reblogged one of my posts with that "information". Which, btw, pls do not do that again. I'd rather not have that toxic crap attached to any of my posts.

The thing you sent was talking about Erin Frost and I've spoken extensively about her. Unfortunately, Erin's Twitter no longer exists and some of my posts are no longer accessible. So, I'm just trying to get what I can. I'll leave links to posts in no particular order:

Erin calling herself mentally unstable: 1, 2

Erin outting others who did not want to be in Vivzie drama (images and links): 1, 2, and image:

Erin getting upset over Sallie being trans. She also was disgusted that Sallie was being "sexualized", even though Morgana works on OF (correct me if I'm wrong) and have done sexual cosplay. Plus, she had a hand in designing Sallie May: Link

Erin getting upset at being overworked, despite being reprimanded for taking on work and causing delays:

Excerpt from a deleted tweet from Erin,

She also talked to Adam Neylan about leaving Spindle and spoke positively. So, it wasn't like she was fired:

Vivzie wasn't blacklisting people nor not allowing them to work anywhere else:

(My reply could've been better, I admit)

I wish I could give more info, but like I said, a lot of it is scattered or erased at this point. Hopefully, this gives a better idea, however, about the whole situation. Plus, my eyes were getting tired from squinting and scanning

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[gaiaseyes451]

A Carol Conversation - Or, Crowley tells Aziraphale how he feels through Christmas Carols

There was an artistic Secret Santa exchange on Good Omens After Dark and the fic I wrote for my giftee is now live on AO3. It is set post-Season 2, after Aziraphale has returned from Heaven. Crowley decides to use a Christmas Carol scavenger hunt as one final attempt to become an Us. Essentially, it's an accidental, sort-of Fix-It fic that reads more like a Hallmark movie with a teeny little bit of mature content toward the end.

Here's an excerpt - Keep reading on AO3:

As Aziraphale opened the box Crowley studied his shoes carefully, watching from the corner of his eye and attempting (unsuccessfully) to will his corporation not to blush. He saw Aziraphale reach into the box for one of the shortbreads and emerge holding the matte black card with gold lettering. He read it, his lips mouthing the words silently, before turning to look at Crowley.

“What’s this?” Aziraphale asked, his voice light.

“‘S just,” Crowley rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and tried to look casual leaning on the shop counter. “Well, you know, how, how,” he stuttered, “know you enjoy riddles and puzzles. Always doing those crosswords. Thought you might fancy a little … Christmas carol themed scavenger hunt,” he trailed off.

“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed and wiggled with delight. “That sounds wonderful! How does it work?” He asked, studying the card thoughtfully.

“Well, the cards have Christmas carol lyrics on them, see. You just need to know the next line of the song and it’ll be a hint where you should go for the next clue.”

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale’s brow was furrowed as he read the card, humming the tune.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

Jack Frost nipping at your nose

Yuletide carols being sung by a choir

And folks dressed up like Eskimos

Aziraphale’s face lit up with recognition and he met Crowley’s eyes even through the dark lenses as he spoke “everybody knows some coffee and some mistletoe…” His gaze changed and he broke eye contact, Crowley was gratified to see that Aziraphale’s cheeks had also taken on a hint of pink.

Maybe, just maybe?

*~*~*

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (28)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19 / Part 20 / Part 21/ Part 22 / Part 23 / Part 24 / Part 25 / Part 26 / Part 27 /

Created: November 17th, 2023

Last Checked:-----

Change of Plans-thegirlonpeetamellark (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta can't agree on what to do for New Year's Eve. Written for the Tumblr 'Prompts in Panem' Holiday Challenge. Modern Day AU.

Frosted Glass-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Peeta wakes up to an empty bed, but Katniss is in the shower.

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Written for the Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime 2021 Edition Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

If we met at midnight-Lbug84, MockingJayFlyingFree (ao3) Summary: Unable to sleep, Katniss is hiding, deep in 13, where she doesn’t think anyone can find her. But someone does. The person who hates her the most.

Love Don't Cost a Thing-titania522 (ao3) Summary: Peeta convinces Katniss that the best Christmas gifts are free. Written for the FYeah-Everlark Secret Santa Fic Exchange.

Mirage-MockingJayFlyingFree (ao3) Summary: In the Training Center, shortly before the Quarter Quell, Katniss and Peeta know they only have a few days left to live. To escape the nightmares, they seek comfort in each other’s arms every night. But sleeping next to the girl you love can be difficult when you’re a 17-year-old boy. Catching Fire – slight canon divergence. Peeta POV. Written for Prompts in Panem, round 7, day 5 - "Tongues".

Shoot First-misshoneywell (ao3) Summary: Retiring from a hard life as a gunfighter in the Wild West, Peeta Mellark finds one last wild thing he might never learn to tame.

That's the incentive-Lbug84, MockingJayFlyingFree (ao3) Summary: "This is how a lot of scary movies start." "Actually," he corrects. "This is how a lot of pornos start." Katniss delivers pizza to Peeta. OOC since there's no pizzeria in The Hunger Games, Modern AU… Oh, and we agree with Peeta.

The Ride Home-AnotherSongAnotherMile (ao3) Summary: Needing a ride home from a late night party, Katniss swallows her pride and calls on her former best friend, Peeta Mellark.

Welcome Back Mr. Mellark-Diana_Flynn (ao3) Summary: Peeta Mellark has an appointment with Katniss Everdeen and she is ready to please him in anyway she can. The Kitty Ranch excerpt for PiP challenge Day 5.

[grey-wardens]

i am trying to be prouder about things i've done so i'm taking this opportunity to share a link to my completed durgewyll fic, featuring default durge! it is easily my most self-indulgent fic - about half of it is written in second person :) it is also as sad as i can make any piece of my fanfic lol.

if you do check it out please read the tags for warnings! just about all the companions got their bad endings along with everything those endings entail.

also, here is an excerpt, below the cut

-

As the Blade of Frontiers leapt down to face the goblins, rapier in hand, the Hells’ magic at his fingertips, his eyes alighted on you. You, your body that of a white-scaled dragonborn, hide veined with crimson, a rare sight in this Sword Coast backwater. Your body tensed in anticipation, ready to fight with him against these forces.

Before long you were back-to-back on the battlefield, eldritch energy crackling from the Blade’s fingertips, rays of fire and frost from yours. Even as his focus had been on putting down the attacking goblins and worgs and bugbears, he had been intimately aware of the heat coming off your scales, the strength of your arms, the power at your clawed fingertips. It impressed him. It excited him. You were a warrior from some long-lost legend stepped into reality, here to fight at his side, to write myth into truth.

[honeycrispjamz]

-✦ excerpt from a current WIP ✦-

She’s beautiful, a chipped champagne glass with light beaming in every single direction. Her perfume saturates their shared air, and it burns the inside of Natalie’s nostrils— she doesn’t mind. It’s all-encompassing, Jonah being swallowed by a fucking whale, forests devoured by waves of fire. Misty’s looking up at her through her glasses now, eyes full of genuineness.

Natalie loves staring at her. This isn’t a new revelation, nor is it specially world-collapsing, but it hits her in the gut all the same. She remembers watching Misty sleep in the bitter winter, the spring heat— it takes her somewhere else for a while, somewhere kinder and away. She’s there now, far away but closer than ever.

“You did good today,” Misty whispers, and it’s offensive how it makes Natalie’s heart flutter.

“Yeah?” Is all Natalie can say back, Misty nodding.

“I know it was hard, with everything,” She starts, voice sweet. “Still, you did wonderful— I knew you would, as long as you didn’t get in your head about it.”

Natalie doesn’t respond, so Misty takes it as a cue to continue.

“Sometimes, you get trapped in there, you know? And you tell yourself you can’t do something, so you don't even try. But tonight, you tried… I’m proud of you.”

A car passes by, its headlights streaming in through the open window behind Misty. It illuminates her in a white-hot glow, just for a moment, but it’s enough. She’s a hotel angel, her gold curls nothing less than a glittering halo.

“Do you really think I can do it?” Natalie asks, and it comes out just as pathetic as she imagined. “Stay sober?”

“I do,” Misty breathes out, no hesitation, and it cuts. “I really do.”

She reaches out, interlocking her fingers with Natalie’s. It’s gentle, soft, something Natalie wants to tear apart with her teeth. Natalie closes her eyes, just for a moment, and breathes in Misty’s perfume once more. She lets it fill her, and under it all she can still dig out the underlying scent of mint that Misty always exudes. She doesn’t understand how someone so fucked can be so… clean.

Natalie opens her eyes again, and she half expects to be back there, surrounded by death and Canadian flora, the air wet with summer heat or frosted by an uncaring winter— but she isn’t, she’s here, and Misty’s still looking at her like she’s worth something.

Maybe she is.

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[1indigoisles]

Chapter 1 - Excerpt 4

I’d hoped for a few minutes, at the very least, of peace.

Instead, I was immediately ambushed at the entrance of the main hall of my new school by a girl just a few inches shorter than me, with a bright expression that I would soon come to know was her being cheerful.

At first I’d thought her hair was on fire, and she had galloped to me expecting a waterfall to sprout out of my backpack. A fraction of a second later, though, I realised that that was just the colour of the girl’s hair, burning orange, not red, orange, like fire.

Her hair was bright orange. She had hazel eyes with flecks of green and gold in them, sweet pink lips that looked naturally dyed, and freckles that covered the appex of her nose and cheekbones like dust. She wore a white tank top that should be illegal to wear, a brown leather jacket to cover it up, fashionably tattered and faded jeans, and a bright smile that could give the sun and the stars a run for their money.

“Hi,” she said, in a naturally crisp and friendly voice, “I’m Jolene Frost, head of Knightville High’s welcoming comittee. Welcome to Knightville High!”

I jumped. “Hello,” I managed to stammer, “I’m Kenneth Teigen.”

Jolene’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly at ‘Teigen.’

“What?” I asked.

“What ‘what’?” Jolene looked a little bemused.

“Never mind,” I muttered.

She regarded me for a long moment, not like I was acting strangely, but more as though she’d just discovered something about me that told her there was more to discover.

Then she peered over my shoulder as though she’d just spotted someone, and called, “Rowan, Rowan!” I turned around, but I couldn’t be sure who she was calling. A beat passed. No one came, and no one looked at her weirdly for shouting that name, possibly because she was popular and wouldn’t have cared about it anyway. With an exasperated sigh, she flipped out her phone and dialled a number. She held up a finger that told me I should wait a minute and heard the phone ring twice before the person on the other end picked up.

Jolene did not pause to say ‘hello’ to make sure the person on the other end was there, instead immediately speaking into her phone, “Rowan Frost, if you do not emerge from whatever hidey-hole you’ve found for yourself, I will whisper your middle name to the new kid.” She said the last two words as though it would be a treacherous fate for Rowan, who I now realised was Jolene’s brother.

A reply came from the other end. Jolene retorted, “oh, I will, and I will do it seductively for good measure.” She seemed to have either not noticed my slight discomfort at that, or she was ignoring it entirely.

“Relax, I’m here,” came a child-like voice. A boy an inch or so shorter than me approached us, dettaching his phone from his ear as he did.

Jolene smiled a winning smile, and leaned in to loudly whisper, “It’s Duncan, by the way.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell,” reproached Rowan while looking affronted, before abruptly grinning slyly, “Mildred.”

Jolene shrugged, clearly not the reaction Rowan had been hoping for. “I have no insecurities about my middle names. No one will ever call me Mildred, unless, of course, they have a death wish.”

“You just said you had no insecurities.”

“Mildred is a disgusting enough name to hate without being insecure about having it.”

“So is Duncan.”

“No, it’s only you who hates it because it’s old-fashioned.”

“I don’t understand why that isn’t a good enough reason on its own.”

While they went on with their incessant banter, I studied Rowan a little more closely. He had ash-blond hair that was more ash than anything really, and big grey eyes that at first seemed to be comparable to the grey of Knightville’s sky, but soon, it would look more like silver, gleaming and refracting in the light.

He had a long, thin face that had a fine sort of bone structure to it, all angles in some places, all softness in others. His body looked wiry and his shoulders were slim, similar to a girl’s. It was then I drew to the conclusion that ‘handsome’ was not a word that could be used to describe him – he looked more... pretty, yes, that’s the word. He was rather pretty.

“Shouldn’t we be showing the new kid around instead of wasting time arguing?” said Rowan a little grumpily, after Jolene had thrown a cutting remark at him.

“Perhaps,” Jolene allowed, “but maybe we could just skip the tour.” She turned to me, “don’t worry, the school layout is really simple. You’ll get it as we go along.”

The Frost siblings then took me along the halls, to my locker, through various classrooms and labs, the library, the canteen, the infirmary, other staffrooms, all while encompanying it with more banter, assurances that I could ask questions if I had any, and other interesting details, like a long crack that spread across the floor in front of the chemistry lab that had always been there. It was thin, but not so much that it wasn’t noticeable – in fact, I’d noticed it before Jolene had told me about it – and pitch black, as though it had been drawn on the ground with a marker of the darkest black, and shaped like real-life lightning, starting and ending abruptly. It was strangely unsettling to look at.

“Following so far?” Jolene asked, when I spent too long looking at the scar on the floor. “Any questions?”

I looked up, and spotted someone. “Actually,” I said, pointing, “yes. Who is she?”

Tagged: @mayaheronthorn, @jeahreading

[blackknight-100]

The Corruption of mildly protective Thranduil in five parts + an extra

This fic is inspired by this amazing artwork by @chicotfp

This fic was supposed to be 1k so I could post it here, but somehow inflated to 3k+ Therefore: here is a random excerpt and the Ao3 link. The timeline is a bit skewed for plot purposes.

One evening that winter, he receives a visitor. He sits by the fire, nursing a glass of wine. Legolas – so sweet and so dear – slumbers on his lap. He strokes the tousled blond head and watches the flames shift. All at once the fire has a face, and a soft hissing voice. “Vigorousss S-s-s-spring,” it says. Thranduil wraps a hasty hand around his son, subtly feels for the knife in his boot. He has lived in Morgoth’s shadow, fought at Mordor’s gates. This fell Maia he will know even in sleep, yet he asks anyway, “Who is it that speaks?” In the flames, he sees a fair, smiling face. “Do you not know?” “Sauron,” he says with thrilling boldness. The flames laugh. “Mairon isss my name,” it tells him, and dissolves. Mairon has a sweet voice, and sweeter words. He flickers in the flames every night, and Thranduil, taken by curiosity, lingers.

Fandoms: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien  

Teen And Up Audiences

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Gen

Complete Work

Tags

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Bard the Bowman/Thranduil

only if you squint

Thranduil (Tolkien)

Gandalf | Mithrandir

Sauron | Mairon

The One Ring

Elrond Peredhel

Galadriel | Artanis

Celeborn (Tolkien)

Bard the Bowman

Bilbo Baggins

Original Orc Character(s)

Dark Thranduil

Mirkwood

Spiders

Mind Manipulation

Orcs

Blatant misuse of Robert Frost's quote

Not Beta Read

Dol Guldur

[itsagrimm]

Master of Winter

I am fighting my own perfectionism here by publishing it as drafts and excerpts bc I have been working on this for months and I am starting to get desperate. Also I need this to reference it in the 'He Who Comes from Under The Water' Series and even after the 7th rewrite it's not hitting like I want it to. So let's all collectively say fuck it and ask ourselves the most important question: What if Santa fucked?

John Price X OC

CN: mentions of sexual themes, mentions of pregnancy and failed pregnancy, found (?) family, wanting to have kids, John Price becoming a dad weird folklore edition

Masterlist

One

The Master of Winter, some call him Ded Moros, others call him John Price, wanders back home. After bringing the cold and the frost down south to the people, he returns back to his Ice Queen residing in the Castle up on the north pole. He missed her greatly - her piercing blue eyes, her unforgiving voice, her sharpness and beauty.

As he returns, she happily embraces him. But some changed between them and Price finally decides to ask her about her sorrows.

***

The snow was bright under the polar day, reflecting the sunlight. Ice was towering up high into the arctic sky. Somewhere far away it was summer – past the ice and great tundra steppe where the trees grew again and not the mighty ice castle as the only thing reaching up high.

Jonathan Price did not care about that. He was sitting before his castle, staring into the endless white. He had returned home a few weeks ago. His queen had welcomed him as always. Like countless times before he as the Master of Winter, the Ded Moros, had travelled south to bring the cold. And like all those countless times before when he had returned, he had expected his wife to be joyful and happy to see him.

But she was not.

Looking at him with sad eyes, burning with a cold passion he adored.

“Love, what is it?” He had said. “Are you not happy to see me, dear?”

“Husband.” She had cried falling against his chest. “I am. But my winter had been lonely, so I had travelled down to find you. Instead, I found humans, living together in their tiny houses huddled around the fire as it could keep the cold in their bones away. I found animals hibernating under the snow, pressed close to each other for warmth. I found words of hope for a future after winter and when the sun would rise again.”

Price knitted his eyebrows as he embraced his wife. “My Queen, did the presence of fire, warmth and summer disturb you that much? Did I bring not enough of the cold to keep our kingdom safe?”

She shook her head.

“No, my dear. I do not ask you for more cold to keep my ice body and this kingdom in pieces.”

She looked up, searching for something in his eyes before reaching up and kissing him.

“What I wish for-” Another kiss from her cold, addicting lips. “-is a child. I want a family. I want to be a mother and hold our child like the humans did in their huts. I want it to curl up against us in their sleep, feeling for us to be close, I want to show it the beauty of our world in the never-ending day.”

“We are a family.” Price whispered weakly. His queens’ words were making him as drunk as her lips.

“We are. But we could grow into a different one.”

***

Cultural References:

Ded Moroz can be understood as Soviet Santa Claus. However, he is based on an older, pagan entity. Since as always the source material for pre-christian traditions and believes from Eastern Europe and central Asia are sparse to nonexistent, we can only guess how exactly this entity was perceived. Some argue the Ded Moroz (literal translation father or grandfather Frost) is a kind of evil winter spirit. Others argue him more akin to a snow wizard.

In the Soviet Union religious traditions were frowned upon and oppressed, especially all non-christian believes and practices. The Jolka as a substitute Christmas celebration was introduced as an alternative to various winter festivals, most importantly Christmas. This Jolka festival included Ded Moroz, who brought gifts to the kids.

The snow queen comes from a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen. It has little to do with the movie Frozen. In the tale the snow queen kidnaps a boy and his friend Gerda travels up to the north pole castle to get her friend back from the Queen. There is a very cool Russian animated movie The Snow Queen (Russian: Снежная королева, Snezhnaya koroleva) from 1957 and it's fairly known classic. You can watch it on youtube with english subtitles.

@queenquazar

[imagine-you]

find the words tag game

tagged by the lovely, amazing, talented @residentdormouse thank you so much my friend!

The rules are simple - find a sentence, or excerpt, that includes the words you're given and paste it in, and include a link to the finished story if you want. But honestly, guidelines at best - do what you want.

My words to find: White, Cold, Snow, Frost, Ice, Gloves, Hat, Cocoa (or Tea), Blanket, Snuggle/cuddle

___

White: Found In 'Waiting For the Sun To Go Down' [Eric Northman/Reader]

You knew Eric was shadowing the pair of you, but when you caught a glimpse of a white dress out of the corner of your eye, you were surprised to notice Sookie was there as well.

___

Cold: Found In 'Meet Me Under the Stars' [Daryl Dixon/Reader]

Later, when you were huddled near the fire with your arm wrapped around Carl, you tried to keep from shivering. It was so cold and with winter approaching, you knew that it was going to be rough trying to keep the group fed and warm. You kept your gaze focused on the fire. You were barely aware of the conversation going on around you, but you caught certain snippets of it enough to get the gist of what was going on.

___

Snow: Found In 'I'm Coming For You and I'm Making War' [Johanna Mason/Reader] (yes I'm cheating and this is a fic I haven't posted yet)

It wasn't until the 69th Games were about to kick off that you met President Snow. "Congratulations," he told you. His presence loomed over you and you couldn't help but feel like you were caught in a predator's sight. "It's no small feat to win the Games."

___

Frost: I couldn't find this one in my fics. It might be somewhere, but I lost and didn't find it.

___

Ice: Found In 'writin' you a letter and I don't know where to start' [Steve Harrington/Reader]

Steve groaned and shook his head. "I needed to ice my feet that night because you kept stepping all over them. You couldn't get the timing right."

___

Gloves: Found In 'Love's Strange' [Billy Hargrove/Reader]

Once you got inside, you started pulling off your gloves. "I see you've finally showed up," you heard from in front of you. You glanced up to see Principal Himbry standing there, an unimpressed look on his face. "I had to walk," you offered helplessly.

___

Hat: Found In 'Baby, You're a Haunted House' [Billy Hargrove/Reader]

"Of course not," he backtracked. "I'm always glad to see my number one girl." He froze and then shook his head. "Shit. You know what I mean." Robin was laughing by now, shaking her head as she looked at Steve. "You're hopeless, Harrington." "Shut it, Buckley." Steve grumbled something under his breath and adjusted the hat on his head. You couldn't help but think that it was a shame that his uniform required him to wear the hat. Hiding all of that hair was probably not doing Steve any favors when he doubtlessly flirted with customers. "You need a ride to the pool, Y/N?"

___

Cocoa/Tea: I couldn't find this one either! Which is crazy to me...but coffee might have turned something up.

___

Blanket: Found In 'Time For a Hero to Step Into the Fire' [John/Reader]

You wanted nothing more than to talk to John. Before the world fell apart, he was the person you thought about most. Your feelings for him were just as strong as ever, but you felt like there was a distance between you now. You sighed before you finally managed to speak. "They sent us out today," you started, reaching out to pick at a loose thread on John's blanket. "I heard," John said. "You okay?"

___

Cuddle/Snuggle: I could only find 'cuddling' in one fic and it was 'Tickin' Like a Timebomb' [Klaus Hargreeves/Reader]

Luther considered you and Klaus where you were practically cuddling on the couch. "I guess it's not the most important thing we need to discuss now."

[hello-there]

Communities are a new way to connect with the people on Tumblr who care about the things you care about! Browse Communities to find the perfect one for your interests or create a new one and invite your friends and mutuals!

[madam-melon-meow]

The Good, The Bad, and The Alternative. A homestuck fanfic. Chapter 23, an excerpt:

At some point through Jade's workout the air condition cut off, denying her the relief of cool air circulating through the apartment.

She held her back bridge pose on the living room carpet. Bec had made his way underneath her- encouraging her to maintain form even though her core was trembling and she felt the blood pressure in her head swelling.

With a strained voice, she grunted at Bec. "Okay, boy, that's two minutes."

He huffed and doggy crawled out from under her. With a sigh of relief Jade allowed her shoulders and hips to drop to the floor, her legs stretching out. Her chest rose and fell, and she felt the wood of the floor stick and unstick from her lower back with each one, a drop of sweat running down the side of her stomach.

While she caught her breath, she turned her head over to the bedroom door. Still closed. That was a relief- she'd managed to keep it all quiet enough that she hadn't woken Rose. And now most of that tingling in her hands and feet was gone, replaced with a burn in her core and a fully energized body. And a sheen of sweat.

Maybe she needed a shower- it was starting to feel almost humid in the apartment.

Jade kipped up onto her feet, and bounced over to the bathroom door. She'd definitely have to mention the feeling of connection to the city to Rose- it probably had something to do with her grandmother being the goddess of technology in addition to magic. Though, she wasn't sure if she was ready for a symbiotic relationship with the concept of civilization quite yet. That all could wait until after a shower.

Jade swung open the door, stepped in, and was hit with a wave of steam- it was only when her glasses defogged and her eyes landed on the figure behind the lightly frosted glass did she realize the shower was already running.

The very lightly frosted glass.

Oh god .

Jade felt her face filling up with red like a teapot coming to boil. Rose's arms were up in her hair, massaging shampoo into it, elegant and precise, and her head fully stretching up past the showerhead. Jade's eyes and body froze in panic, unable to not linger on her friend's barely-blurred figure arching into the heat of the water, her mouth parting slightly for breath as soap ran down her face. Jade had to look up slightly even from all the way across the bathroom, her eyes naturally landing on the smooth swoop of Rose's neck and collarbone.

Rose started turning at the noise of the door opening and Jade wheeled back, yanking the door with her. She misjudged the distance, and jerked the handle back so hard that the corner of the door smacked her in the face, right between her eyebrows.

"Fuck! Shit! Sorry!" Jade staggered back out through the door and slammed it closed. She ran away from the bathroom and had an impulse to fully abscond from the apartment. Only when her hand was on the door handle and Bec was whining at her heels, did she remember that Rose would be unable to chase her in any capacity thanks to the "grounding" magic that locked her in her bedroom and the attached bathroom.

So she sat in a little ball next to the refrigerator, her face feeling like it was on fire, and her stomach churning in what she hoped was distress. The harder she tried to dispel the image from her memories, the more it stuck on the back of her eyelids.

Read more here:

[umbracirrus]

So... I was tagged by both @throughtrialbyfire and @oblivions-dawn to find words in my writing... that's five each, so there's 10 I have to find!! And I think that anyone who I would likely tag back has already done this/been tagged in this so wouldn't know who to tag back...

I have to find excerpts containing Blood, Frost, Dread, Known, Awkward, Woods, Silence, Cloud, Steal, and Blade... Quite the list!!! It's going to come from a mixture of what I have posted and some WIPs which I have dotted about........ Where possible I have used excepts from The Perfect Storm (both stuff that is and isn't posted!), but have delved into other WIPs too.

1. Blood

The Perfect Storm, Chapter 6

His grasp of her wrists tightened as the blade against her neck moved slightly, forcing her into lifting her head and making eye contact with him. "I am certain that this fuss you have been making will have been all for nothing once we return to Windhelm."

Fuss? Whiterun was under attack, people were dying, houses burning, her housecarl murdered, and he thought she was fussing?!

"I will never go with you, y-you hear me?!" The blade moved higher, and she let out a hiss as she felt a sting and a small, warm rivulet of blood slip down her throat. And then... She began to laugh. Her poison may have failed, but she had one last trick up her sleeve.

2. Frost

Excerpt from the still untitled fic based around Elyse's parents, WIP.

Edwyn almost felt sick as he heard that. He had never cast any magic on Ingja, with the exception of when they had just met and her leg was injured! He was a conjuration mage, he had never touched the illusion schools of magic once in his life. But even more frightening was the threat of The Chill.

Everyone who had been in Winterhold for more than a week knew of The Chill. It was what was used instead of a conventional jail... And was far out into the Sea of Ghosts. Surrounded by naturally occurring frost atronachs, horkers, wolves... Practically a death sentence if you weren’t prepared enough to handle it. Which you wouldn’t be, because prisoners were locked up in cages, left to the whims of nature until their sentence was completed, until they escaped, or until they perished.

And Ingja’s father wanted to put him in it.

3. Dread

WIP based around my Vigilant of Stendarr-turned-Vampire Dragonborn, Iduna

A small sigh escaped her lips as she placed the amulet down on the table in front of her, and reached out for her bottle of mead. There was a slight fruitiness to its scent, one which reminded her of days long gone from her youth when she would sit with her family around a fire with mugs of berry juice, fresh from the pot above the flames and infused with spices which could only make her feel warm and safe.

Juniper berries – she was certain.

“That looks as though it has seen better days. Stendarr, right?” A voice from behind her just as she brought the bottle to her lips made her flinch, with it being the first time that anyone had actually dared say anything to her beyond pleasantries. It began to stir a deep feeling of dread within her. There was a man stood there, a look of curiosity plastered across his face as he glanced towards the amulet. “You a Vigilant or something?”

Suddenly, her throat felt dry, forcing her to quickly bring her drink to her lips before she could think of how to respond. The answer was simple, something which could be answered with a lone word, but it was one that was just not coming to her mind. “Of… a sort, you could say.”

4. Known

The Perfect Storm, Chapter 9

“It isn’t anything to do with Ulfric, if that’s what you are going to ask,” she quickly stated, though not answering the question which actually had been on the tip of the housecarl’s tongue.

“Who was it from then?”

A tired sigh escaped the Dragonborn as she shrugged and started to finally unbuckle her gauntlets and pull off her boots. “That was a letter from somebody who wanted to ‘check up on me’ because they ‘haven’t heard from me in a while’. He doesn’t actually care for me, he is contacting me out of principle,” she explained, before letting out an almost amused snort as she moved her attention towards ridding herself of her breastplate. “He doesn’t even know that I am the Dragonborn, or at the very least I haven’t told him nor care to tell him. He may have figured it out through the grapevine, but if he has, he certainly hasn’t made it known to me.”

5. Awkward

WIP for events which happen very far down the line in The Perfect Storm hehe. Had to keep this one short to prevent spoilers :)

“Balgruuf.”

“Ulfric.”

The two Jarls remained stood in the doorway, tension building between them and resulting in any guests near to the door trying to subtly move away from them. It took Galmar clearing his throat and giving Ulfric a nudge for anything further beyond the awkward stare-down to happen.

6. Woods

More of the WIP based around Iduna!

Panic began to set in when, in the distance, plumes of orange-tinted smoke began to emerge from the woods around the base of the mountains. Her body grew tense, muscles stiffening as a scalding hot bead of sweat slipped down from her forehead to her jaw to her neck.

She wasn’t even there, but she could already feel the flames licking at her skin, the combustion of wood and stone under the intense heat, the dragon’s roars-

Just like Helgen.

“Iduna! Snap out of it already!” The voice, as ever, drew the vampire from her state of panic as she gave off a pathetic little whimper, and her gaze fell towards the dog by her feet.

7. Silence

The Perfect Storm, Chapter 11

“Balgruuf, look at me.” Elyse reached out and took the circlet out of his hands, and placed it back down on the table. “They do not hate you. Trust me on that.”

They remained in a heavy silence after that, with her trying to think of anything else which she could say to reassure him, and him trying to contemplate whether he believed her. Soon enough, a thought came to mind, and she just knew that it could help with changing his perspective.

8. Cloud

WIP based around two of my Heroes of Kvatch, Drissa and Florian.

"How about we just go to Cloud Ruler Temple, as per Jauffre's suggestion, then figure out what we do from there? We can't help the fact that-! Ow!"

Drissa's teeth were bared towards Florian as she stomped on his foot angrily. "If we had actually done as I had suggested, and only handed over the amulet after we had brought Martin here, then we wouldn't even be in this situation!" She then grabbed hold of her sword, and turned her back to the three men. "I'm done with this. All of it. I've helped fulfil the Emperor's final wish, and I'm not getting involved in any more of this- this bullshit! If you want to get your hands dirtier, then fine. Better you than me."

"Wh-What? But what about our-" Florian, ignoring the ache in his foot, began to try to pursue the Dunmer as she walked away from the priory. He was stopped by Martin holding out his hand, and shaking his head. "Driss…"

9. Steal

More of Drissa and Florian!

It was an injustice that she had been arrested, and given that she had been marched right past the Black Horse Courier offices on the way there, it would be the news of the province that she had been arrested by week’s end. No matter what, her reputation would be ruined. At best, she would be having her titles stripped from her in the Arena. At worst... well, she didn’t dare consider it.

 What she was not expecting once she was brought to a halt was to see another group of guards with another person in a similar predicament to herself.

“-gems did not end up in my hands intentionally, you know. I didn't steal them, I found them. It’s not my fault that his tailor did a shoddy job at stitching up his pockets!”

Or perhaps not.

“Stolen goods are still stolen, no matter how they are obtained,” the guard at the desk stated, just as he caught sight of her. “And here comes more trouble.”

10. Blade

The Perfect Storm, Chapter 11

Her heart was racing, and a thin sheen of sweat was covering her face as she remained stood as she was, her left arm falling to her side with its blade still in hand, her right remaining held forward with its blade lodged in place. A few loose strands of hair that had barely been able to remain tied up behind had fallen loose at some point, frustratingly sticking to the side of her face. The only noise around her, beyond the faintest of breezes, was that of her heavy breathing.