#im shaking this fic between my teeth like a rabid dog

[rottingworship]

Why is it so hard to not spoil everything i want to write for my fic? LIKE HELLO? My brain is out to get me😔

I'm literally gnawing on metal to keep from spewing my ideas out on the internet. I want to talk about it so badly!!!! I may fly by the seat of my pants, but when I plan it's so hard to keep it to myself!

I've talked about some of my ideas with a moot of mine, but i'm trying to keep soooome of it secret for when it's posted. but i hate secrets... i need everyone to know everything always.

Ya'll are about to catch me on your local news for screaming from the rooftops about what's happening next in Beg and Bargain

ANYWAY! I should have some time to post a request or two tomorrow😎

[sakasakiii]

First Lines

Request: List the first ten lines of the last ten stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends. 

thank you for the tag @torpi46 !! it’s my first time seeing this sort of tag game, but im certainly not complaining because ‘twas fun PLUS now i have a bunch of fics of yours to binge read over the next few months 😆 heheh

uhhh i guess um. they all start off with a bunch of elves having varying degrees of crisis? oh dear. i really need to get in the habit of breaking my paragraphs up omg

Unwarranted Documentation

Elrond was upset, to say the very least. That admittedly wasn’t a common sight since between him and Elros, most often remarked that he was the calmer twin: more mature, more composed, most likely from having inherited - if you can use that verb in the complicated context of their relationship - Maglor’s even temper and gentler disposition. For one, he prided himself on this reputation that the people of his adoptive fathers seemed to unanimously bestow upon him. He had just turned seventeen, after all, and was quickly growing into the rather large shoes he felt he had to fill now that the cusp of war was closer than ever.

Nobody’s Child

He had not felt anything at first. He - or at least, all the little scattered pieces of his still-unformed fëa - had spent what seemed like an eternity or two floating around a vast stretch of land slowly being sculpted to motion. Around him he had grown accustomed to witnessing life that did not belong to him. Sometimes he watched as a beautiful woman with glowing eyes reached into the sky, brought her lips to the stars clasped in her palm and kissed them; those stars in turn grew limbs and bodies, and once they could move freely, she scooped them into her arms and called them her children.

he is but a king, fallen into fire

Fingers brush against Maedhros’ face, landing lightly on the scarce areas of skin that aren’t peppered with bruises and clotted blood. As they travel upwards, they trace lengthy scars that curl across his right eye and snake onto his forehead. Eventually they move onto his hair, weaving themselves into the tangled mass of crimson that lies haphazardly spread about his head across the dirty stone floor like a blood red cloud. The long fingers run through knots, smoothing them out with a gentle delicacy that soon devolves into rougher, crueller tugging.

little time to say goodbye

The child had screamed when Maglor drew closer to him, his tiny body shaking like a leaf swept up by a typhoon. He’d stretched his hands out to form a protective shield of sorts; it was surely an impregnable fortress in his innocent mind, although to Maglor it made no difference. When the Noldo picks him up by the collar, Elwing’s son turns into a rabid dog that flails and wails and snarls, lunging forth to sink his teeth into any bit of flesh that isn’t protected by crimson-flecked armour.

A Bond Deeper Than Blood

He was losing him. Findekáno had realised that even before he was placed on a stretcher and taken to the Nolofinwëan camp’s medical tent; even before he’d held him in his arms atop Thorondor’s back; even before he’d made the rash decision to pay for his life at the cost of his right hand.

Maitimo was fading.

a familiar wound, a familiar farewell

Nolofinwë is going to die today.

If you run and tell yourself that you must not stop running, no matter what the cost, then you might be surprised to find out just how obedient your usually-rebellious body can be. Up until this point, Nolofinwë always thought he had it worst; to be the owner of a frail hröa and a child at that! How half-brother Fëanáro used to scoff at him and his attempts to play out in Laurelin’s light with the rest of the children his age.

But now Nolofinwë runs, bare feet skimming across the smooth floor of his father’s palace. 

tagging: @elennalore @someoneinthestars @outofangband @dialux @playing-with-inks @aniconictea but please feel free to disregard!! ❤️