#i am solely seeking critique and also it took me too long to do this and my art teacher said the point of art is to share it so.

[inkats]

hiii i did this essentially just for paneling + line practice . if anyone has any. critiques or tips or things i should try or things that really dont read well pls let me know. heres something else i did also if u want to. tell me ive improved ^-^ or if i havent ^-^

[trivialqueen]

The Queen’s Choice, A Grimowyn AU: 1. Holding Hands

Disclaimer: One Disclaimer to rule them all – I own not but the mistakes. No offence nor infringement intended.

Summary: Éowyn is the last heir of the House of Eorl, but in order to take her throne she must become a woman by custom, she must marry. Éowyn likes few of her courtiers and trusts even less of them. She does trust one thing; however, she trusts that Gríma son of Gálmód loves her. It’s not a lot but it is enough, especially if she is ever going to have a chance to leave her mark on the pages of history. Grimowyn AU.

Notes: Inspired in part by auri_mynonys who showed me how wonderful this ship can be. Also inspired by the fact that apparently if one wants more Grimowyn stories one has to write them. Loosely based around a series of prompts on DeviantArt a few years ago, the 30-Day OTP Challenge. Please feel free to comment and critique! I will be the first to admit that it has been some time since I read Lord of the Rings/ saw the movies. I know characterization will likely be off, I just hope it’s not too painful. Also, I apologize up front for the characterization of Théodred, please forgive the AU.

Théodred died as he had lived - in a woman’s bed. He died without legitimate issue, a fact Éowyn almost mourned more than her cousin’s death. Three years ago, King Théoden died, wasted away by a disease that ate him from the inside out. Three years before that Éowyn’s elder brother, Éomer, had fallen, along with the rest of his fellow riders, in a vicious warg attack as they patrolled the Misty Mountains. Seven years before that she lost both her parents – one to battle, the other to grief. At nigh twenty Éowyn, daughter of Éomund, niece of Théoden, was utterly without family. Her chest ached with the emptiness of orphanhood, loneliness drew the tears to her eyes and flavored them with salt and bitterness. What made her body shake and throat burn with blood and acidic bile, however, was not being utterly alone in the world. It was the larger issue, as large as Rohan itself. She was the last member of her family. She was the last legitimate member of the House of Eorl. She was now Queen.

Théodred had been retrieved from one bed and place in another, cleaned, groomed, and dressed in the softest white tunic and breeches, silver and gold thread forming intricate knots and patterns at the neck, wrist, and hem. On the morrow he would be interred but for now he was laid in a side chamber for visitation. He is peaceful in his eternal sleep Éowyn thought, trying to stem the tide of tears, though her thoughts did not stray far from the morbid. For whatever reason that fact amused her. Her amusement amused her further until she giggled. The first was soft but a second came swiftly, a throaty arpeggio in contrast to her more wrenching sobs. The twitters dissolved into silent tremors – emotions too confused to sound. Éowyn – Queen – standing over the last of her kin giggling with tear stained cheeks and an emptiness that made her sway.

“My Lady?” His sonorous voice was full of concern, yet its worried tone lost none of its richness. Éowyn turned at the words and, damnit - shieldmaidens did not swoon - she felt the world shift under her unprepared feet. He, and his rich voice were to her in a moment, a gentle hand on her arm to steady her, to ground her. “Forgive me, my Lady, I did not intend to startle you so.”

Éowyn did not have to raise her eyes far to meet the piercing, crystal blue gaze of Gríma, son of Gálmód, Lord Counsellor. His deep-set eyes were focused on her intently, like he could read her very soul. Not that it was difficult at the moment, her soul was shattered, raw and bleeding along the broken edges. A tear rolled off her cheek and landed on her collarbone, breaking the spell the Counsellor’s eyes cast. Gently he removed his hand to retrieve his handkerchief. He pressed the cloth into her hand, it felt clean although it was rumpled and covered in faded ink stains. She dropped her gaze to the cloth, were his hand lingered on hers.

“I am needed?” Her voice was brittle. She made no move to dry her eyes, nor he to draw back his hand.

“No. I came to see if you needed...something.” He meant to say someonebut clearly thought “something” to be a more appropriate choice. What Éowyn needed was her family alive and with her again. What she needed was not to be sole heir to the throne. What she needed was not to be alone. She knew that Gríma knew this though he would not say it. She knew it like she knew that in spite the pain and trials of the world the sun would rise again. People feared Gríma, hated him as well. Théodred himself couldn’t stand the man but couldn’t be buggered to do the business of statecraft and so could not remove him from the small council. Had Éomer lived Éowyn knew he would have hated Gríma more than Théodred. Éowyn knew all the reasons to hate Gríma, son of Gálmód, from his mixed blood to his suspected mixed loyalties, his sorcery to his spiteful, often cruel temper. He was not to be trusted, Éowyn was well aware and yet also very willing to overlook it. His flaws were lessoned – not expunged – but blunted in her mind by one grace. One saving grace. Gríma sawher. He saw her, Éowyn, not daughter of the noble Éomund or the White Lady of Rohan, not Princess, not Queen but Éowyn. And what he saw he did not seek to change but rather sought to understand and what he could not he took in stride.

“I need my family.” She said, finally raised her hand and his handkerchief to dry her eyes, and more importantly buy her time to phrase her request.

“Would that I could, my Lady, I would reunite them at your side.” He offered, hand twitching slightly. Few people touched her, even fewer she suspected touched the man known at court as “Wormtongue”. Did he miss contact as much as she, she wondered suddenly.

“You are a truly loyal man, but I am aware you have limits.” Her face was dry, but she loathed to give up the now damp cloth in her hand. “I am not ready to leave.” Her eyes turned back to her cousin, the King while still above ground, silent but regal still. To leave would mean to enter a new reality, one she felt utterly unprepared for. “I am not ready to leave but cannot bare to be alone.” She returned her gaze to his and could see her own pain reflected in his eyes. If anyone knew what ‘alone’ was, it was this bastard son of Rohan. “Would you sit a while with an orphan?” She meant the question to lighten the mood. It did not. Gingerly she reached for his hand. A closer study of his face – his eyes, the set of his muscles where eyebrows should grow – told her he was still deciding how best to comfort her, feeling how much of her tone was safe sarcasm designed to shield other feelings. She laced her sword calloused fingers through his writing calloused ones and led him to the seat she had occupied and its long cold companion.

She sat, hand in his, forcing him to sit as well. Gently she squeezed his pale fingers.

“Perhaps soon I will be ready to face-” she paused, unsure of how to correctly articulate what had her so very – Valar she couldn’t even pick an emotion – trepidatious about the world and her new place in it.

Gríma squeezed her hand in return. He understood.

[dxrkblaze]

Give ME ALL FOR THAT MEME BC IM A HO N I LOVE UR WIRITNG U FUCK

this just in: ru is gay and I love her HHDGSHHDDL THAnk u sm homie I cri,,, ❤️❤️

1) of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?Hmm… probably all my colors? Like, there’s a lot I’d like to go back and change, but at the end of the day it was my baby for a good two plus years and there’s a lot of personal stuff sprinkled in there. It kinda shows my emotional progression throughout high school in the story, and while that’s def not why I wrote it, it’s cool to go back and look at it sometimes to see the things I used to say/think about. Plus it’s one of the only massive projects of mine that I’ve actually completed, lol.

Also I have a lot of love for amc just bc it’s so… different, I guess? Like, I’ve never really seen something like it fleshed out into a full-length story, especially not with silver and blaze. And the fact that it rlly touched several ppl and got them rlly into it… that makes me feel kinda accomplished when I’m not being a self-deprecating prick lmao. I rlly rlly wanted it to be my first fic to get to 100 reviews for a reason!

2) favorite tense (past/present/future)Definitely past, I tried present with the unforgiven and it just made it frustrating to write, lmao.

3) favorite POV (first/second/third/etc)I prefer writing in first person, actually. I think it simplifies things for both the writer and reader, and I’ve always found a lot more freedom to be creative when I write in first person.

4) what are some themes you love writing about?Lmao well, obviously romance is priority one for me, so most of my themes stem from that. I rlly love writing about class struggle tho, whether it’s someone low who’s aiming high or a noble who isn’t satisfied with such a high class. Morality also comes up a lot in my writing, I guess; tryna figure out what the right thing to do is, tryna figure out if this character actually did the best thing, all that good stuff!

5) what inspires you to write?Definitely music… sometimes I’ll stray from it and pick up some inspo from movies/stories/etc, but 99% of the time I’ll be listening to a song and suddenly come up w a fic idea from it lmao.

6) thoughts on critiqueI encourage it!! bc I think it’s the only real way to improve. Sometimes it can make me feel bad if I’m in one of those rlly shitty self-deprecation ruts, but still I usually get over it soon even when I’m like that. I know it’s for the better, and I appreciate everyone who’s ever been kind enough, and cared enough abt my writing to give me critique!

7) create a character on the spot…. NOW!UMMMM OKIE,,, what abt a snow leopard named Kyra… she likes to sit around n read n eat noodles… her main hobby other than reading is dancing. she’s v shy but she loves her close friends n BAM I just made her gay. She’s a lesbian, harold.

8) is there a character you love writing for the most? the least? why?Most - probably silver… his personality is always one I’ve gotten a lot of joy out of writing. He’s basically a walking contradiction, lmfao. He’s also pretty easy for me to self-project onto, idk why. Least - I’m gonna say amy for this one, just because it’s been hard for me to focus on more than one aspect of her personality and flesh all of it out. Plus amy is a somewhat overused character lol, I get a lot more fun out of writing blaze/tikal/others when I need a female role, even if it’s something simple

9) a passage from a WIPOh u kno I gotta dip into royalty au for this one 👀

–

It was nearly a fortnight before any word was received from King Pyrus. It came in the form of a small parcel addressed to Blaze, which held a note inside for her. The young princess jumped at the feet of the servant who had brought it in, and once it was lowered into her hands, she hurried to her chamber. Once there, she closed the door behind her and jumped on her bed, unable to contain her excitement. With a careful claw and an eager expression, she tore the parcel’s paper away. Before looking at what it contained, she snatched the note from her father, and brought it to her face. It read:

My Little Flame,

I am sorry I could not write to you sooner. I remain busy, but I finally began exploring, and I found something I think you will simply adore. It is a traditional robe (I believe it is called a kimono) from here in the Eastern Isles. It is just as beautiful as the land, and just as special as you are to I, my dear. We must make plans to bring you here one day, it astounds me each time.

Do not fret about the ongoings in the world, how ever much you have heard. Kiniti watches over us at all times, and she will ensure peace among all kinetics. Hopefully, I will depart in the coming few days, and we will see one another soon.

With love,Father Flame

Blaze, of course, merely skimmed over the second half of the note as a formality. She laid the message aside, and her jaw dropped once she held the kimono out. It was a beautiful shade of dark purple, with an equally enchanting design. Trails of dainty cherry blossoms sat on rugged branches, which climbed up either side of the robe. The silk seemed to melt between Blaze’s fingers; it was the softest material she had ever felt. She rubbed one of the sleeves against her cheek, and purred into it. When she turned the robe over, she gasped. A large, pink bow was already tied at the back, as if it had been made just for her. She slipped the kimono over her shoulders, and although the sleeves hung low over her arms, the length was just right. Blaze tied the pieces of ribbon at her waist, just as Pyrus had taught her, and words could never express how delighted she was with the gift. She could not wait to show her father once he returned.

As Blaze was fitting her tail through the bow on her back, Baxton entered the room. Whenever Pyrus was absent, it was usually Baxton who took up the king’s general duties. He signed letters, addressed the people, attended court; it kept him quite busy. The only responsibility he didn’t inherit was any control of he army - the sole post he would be familiar with. Quite the chore it was, but Baxton was always fond of his temporary sovereign role. At least in terms of the power he held, that is. In fact, Blaze assumed that he had been yelling at some servants not too long ago, judging by his flushed face.

The elder cat scratched his head. “Princess, did the king leave a letter?”

Blaze pointed to the note on her bed. Baxton scurried to it, and frowned as he glanced over the elegant handwriting. “Is this it?” he quizzed.

The princess nodded, and held her arms out with a smile. “Look, Baxi! Look at what father sent me!”

Blaze couldn’t quite tell what Baxton’s expression conveyed, but it was something between a smile and a scowl. The note crumpled in a quick motion from Baxton’s fist, and was thrown back onto the bed cover. Blaze didn’t think much of this as Baxton hurried out, and she walked to her mirror to admire the kimono again.

–

10) what are your strengths wrt writing?Hmm… I get a lot of ppl saying that I’m pretty eloquent when it comes to phrasing/word choices? I’m constantly tinkering with how things are said, even up until like 30 seconds before I publish smth lmao. I also like to think I never just string sentences together and leave it at that when I’m narrating, I pay a lot of attention to how different sentences/phrases flow together.

11) what are your weaknesses wrt writing?My main weakness would probably be going overboard on all the little things, like how a sentence sounds or flows and stuff like that. I end up being a perfectionist with it, and sometimes when I’m crafting/changing phrases around, I end up with a sentence that kinda drags on or tries to do too much.

12) what’s your favorite place for writing resources?Tumblr’s pretty good for me, actually. I rarely ever seek out resources, but I do reblog a lot of them that come to me here and they’ve been very useful to me in the past.

13) who are your favorite writers?Ok first off binch u@aurora-boring-alis (FF: aurora-boring-alis) Then my other peeps who also make the quality goodness™™ I can’t get enough of (some fanfic accounts more active than others)@maliwarm (FF: biteworsethanbark) @lordoftheghostking28 (FF: lordoftheghostking28) @weezernaut (FF: space mercutio)@ebachan (wattpad: witto150)