#wips (I might eventually render some of these one day??)

[camping-with-monsters]

Just some misc doodles of Einin (and Ducky) Goose, and Vin I suppose…! Nothing too crazy to see here really.

Sorry I’ve barely been uploading whoopsies

[ivrket]

Creepypasta mansion - BEN's room

Alright! After a good while of working on it I managed to conjure up some bare bones of a room in Blender! This would be BEN's room. So no bed, no furniture, just his PC and maybe a few additional objects (I will post that fully rendered once I finish it)

His room is very empty for now but his proxies(my OCs that I've been obsessing over recently) will force some stuff in. They themselves are going to have their own little residence and I will eventually post more about them as well.

My main goal is to design rooms for all of the major Creepypasta characters, so once I finish BEN's room I'll probably get to making Jeff's, then EJ's and after that I might make a poll. (If people end up interested in this). I'm not sure if I'll ever model the mansion itself, but I hope to do so one day. Who knows, maybe I'll turn it into a game file where you can walk/look around!

Also enjoy an older pic when it was even more of a WIP. But essentially I started making this to make it easier to draw backgrounds for my Creepypasta stuff and it kind of spiraled lol

[procrastinatorproject]

Bed Rest (Seven) for the WIP ask game, please. Also, if you want to talk about the other Bed Rest fics, too.

Seven's installment literally consist of only this handful of sentences so far:

“I understand that your xB physiology renders you much more resilient than humans, and I’m willing to give you a lot of leeway, but I draw the line at exposure to hard vacuum. You’re coming to sickbay with me right now.” Seven arched her eyebrow and drew a rasping breath. “Deactivate —” “No,” Emil said calmly. “You’re on medical lockout from all computer systems and will remain so until I give you a clean bill of health. Now, will you come downstairs voluntarily? Or will I have to ask Ms Musiker to drag you?”

I do like it quite a bit :D But haven't managed to do all the writing that needs to go around it yet.

As for the other Bed Rest fics... When I started writing them, it was just Soji, then I had an idea for Raffi, then Ian, Rios... and eventually, it settled in my brain as "one day, this series will have a story of Emil telling people to lie the fuck down already for every major and a whole lot of minor characters from Star Trek: La Sirena" 😅

We'll see how far I get. The one I wrote for Picard doesn't actually fit the description as well as I'd like it to, and I should probably just post it as a short slice of life standalone (it's basically done and I find it pretty funny, if I say so myself).

And the Agnes WIP that is still technically labelled "bed rest" also veered into a different direction (much more emotional angst and post-Borg-trauma, less the sickfic vibe I'm going for with the rest of the series). So I might turn that into a standalone at some point, though it would involve having to acknowledge season 2 happenings, even in a strongly altered form...

BUT! A while ago, @regionalpancake pointed out that probably a bunch of OC stories in my "never to be pulished" folder would only need very minor rewrites to work for Agnes (and for readers who haven't spent the last four years in my brain and thus don't know the reams and reams of intricate worldbuilding that underly the Private Stories). And I think that assessment is very accurate for the fic currently titled "Check up", which also has some holo bits in it that I just... adore so much! And want to share with the world! Like...

Emil nodded. “Your fever has gone up in the last few hours.” Her eyes went wide. “I thought the meds would help with that?” The EMH tilted his head and his expression turned slightly admonishing. “They are helping. They’re supporting your body’s immune system in fighting off the virus. Which inevitably involves a certain level of fever.” He lowered his scanner and frowned. “Honestly, you’re nearly as bad as the captain with his impatience. Healing takes time. The human body isn’t a machine where you can replace a broken part and everything just runs smoothly again straight away.” “Well now.” Over at the table, Ian leaned back in his chair and tucked his hands under his arms. “A repair is rarely done with a simple replacement. There’s always adjustments that need to happen afterwards and usually a lot of recalibration to —” “Yes, thank you Ian,” Emil said curtly without turning around, “I was speaking metaphorically.” “I’m just saying that if you want the repair done properly, you can’t just shove a new part in place and call it a day. There are a lot of protocols and follow-ups that need to happen.” “Actually, that makes the metaphor better, don’t you think?” Enoch mused. “Even with a machine, repairs take time and don’t lead to instantaneous improvement.” Ian leaned towards the ENH. “Yes, but he said the human body wasn’t like a machine, so he got the metaphor exactly backwards.” Emil rolled his eyes as the two holograms at the table started to argue over whether an accidentally good metaphor was still good if it was deployed incorrectly. Behind them, Emmet was leisurely swapping cards from his hand for better ones from the discard pile.

So that one is probably gonna be Agnes's installment (eventually).

Beyond that, who knows? There are still a few crew members (organic, cybernetic, and holographic) that need to have a moment with their snarky ship's physician! And one of these days, I will finally get over myself and edit the two paragraphs that have thus far kept me from posting Rios's part of the series 😅

I really enjoy the bed rest stories, though. I will never get enough of Emil being an exasperated, snarky, but ultimately really kind and competent doctor! And since there aren't as many stories of that out there in the wild as I'd like, I guess I'll just have to keep writing them myself XD

---

(I'm still very happy to answer questions or post snippets of the many things in my WIP folder :D Here's the original list of titles if you want to see what's available!

[whathappenstotheheart]

35, 17 and 7 from those fun "weird writer" asks 🥳

I've been pondering how to answer #17 for so long that's it's become tomorrow, twice. Anyway, here we are:

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I think for me it's a pretty even split between two things:

Realizing a vision. Getting that scene to move just like I imagined. Getting that dialogue to flow just like it does in my head. Getting that one line to be just as pretty or poignant as the feeling behind it.

Reader impact. Someone reading my words and feeling them deeply. Someone seeing themselves or their emotions or experiences reflected in my writing. Or for fic, someone seeing something they love or resonate with in a character in how I render them.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

This is a tricky one! I feel like I should talk about fic (since this is a fandom blog primarily, though I should make a sideblog for my original stuff soon) and honestly I have so many fic WIPs that are roughly at the same stage of production that I'm not sure which to pick.

Plus, with fic I tend to be so focused around whatever details (canon or headcanon) that draws me to a character or dynamic that not much gets left out, because if I can't fit it in the main fic I will write a fluff snippet or something with it. Also, most of my long-form fic are pre-production or very early days, so it's hard to say what might have been left out.

So instead, since my Beverly/Deanna fic is the only long-form one that actually has chapters up on AO3, let me regale you with some random Beverly Crusher headcanons that will probably end up in the fic eventually, but have not yet:

Beverly is bi/pan. The end of the Host says nothing about her sexuality and everything about the mindfuck of your lover suddenly dying and being told this new person is them, and I will die on that hill.

Beverly has ADHD and/or whatever neurospiciness I have (jury is still out on that. In fact, jury has not yet been assembled). Like, seriously. The impulse control that makes you fly into a literal sun to prove a point. The teenage experience of saying something and not realizing you'd hurt someone's feelings. Just her vibe is the vibe of someone who is making a real effort not to move more. Do I project onto her? Yes! Am I still right? Also yes.

Beverly has very specific comfort foods and whenever she moves, she always spends a period of time wrangling the replicator into making them right. Am I still projecting because I'd probably do that? Yes.

Beverly speaks some Portuguese. Why? Because I like to make chars bilingual whenever I can, and also I speak some Portuguese so there you are.

Relatedly, I have a sorta lore-headcanon that some subset of people would struggle with listening to music through the universal translator because of the disconnect between the relative mismatch between the length of the music for a given line and the length of the (translated) lyrics (which would be more obvious with some language pairs that others, obviously). I imagine like a lot of things, some people's brains would be able to compensate for and ignore this mismatch better than others. For some reason, I hc Bev as one of those people who always switch the UT off for music because it makes her brain itch otherwise.

Beverly will always love Jack but struggles with accepting that not all her feelings for him are as noble. And reasonably so, because uuuh... he sounds like kind of a crummy spouse. Like, between canon and inference from the infrequency of promotions in Trek broadly, there's a good chance he fucked off into space while Wes was still an infant. Maybe even before he was born. And iirc the way the years work out, there's a chance Bev was still in med school while basically single mom-ing a newborn. I side-eye that man, I tell you.

I really should stop there especially since I am not actually answering the question XDD.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Hmmm, tricky. Probably the idea that adverbs should be avoided. Love me some adverbs! Same for the passive voice. Well-used passives can be so impactful!

Oh also (though I haven't seen this one as much) the idea that you shouldn't use a buncha different verbs as speech tags! Yes, they can definitely be overused but used well, you can pry "murmurs", "sighs", "grumbles" etc. from my cold, dead hands.

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: For the Love of My Husband

Summary: Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. He thought their marriage was happily enough, but Thorin feels a disconnect from the hobbit he’s married. To appease his family and strengthen their bond, Thorin asks Bilbo to take the Trial of Souls with him. Problem is, Bilbo doesn’t want Thorin to know anything about him because they are most assuredly not Ones. And if Thorin learns the truth, Bilbo will find himself back in the streets or worse...

In a darkened pub deep under the kingdom of Erebor, a hobbit and a dwarf squared off. The waiting crowd was near silent as they waited to see what would happen next. The dark haired beast of a dwarf looked fairly confident as he shared a smirk with his two friends directly behind him.

“What’ll it be, Took? Fold or settle?”

The hobbit nonchalantly lifted his overturn cup to sneak a peek at the two dice lying inside. 

“How about I raise you instead?”

It was silent for a moment before the dwarf, Drulik, burst into laughter followed by his cronies.

“Raise? You have nothing left to bet with.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Bilbo stated before pulling out a silver harp-shaped brooch with thin golden strings.

The dwarves surrounding the gamblers all began murmuring at once, some trying to lean in for a closer view.

“Is that…?” One of Drulik’s dwarves gaped.

“Yes.” Bilbo announced calmly. “The Courting Gift of our dearly departed queen, Mahal rest her soul.”

“How did you get that?” Drulik demanded.

Bilbo gave him a wane smile as he tucked back into his vest with a pat. “It doesn’t matter. The question you should be asking is how much do you think it’s worth?”

The gambling den awaited Drulik’s long drawn out answer. It almost made the hobbit want to roll his eyes at the melodrama. However, after years on the streets, he knew a good show could sometimes be the difference between success and failure. And Bilbo didn’t fail. Finally, Drulik pulled out another bag, spilling the golden coins onto the pile between them.

“Settle.” Drulik demanded before revealing the contents under his cup.

The crowd cheered and whistled much to Drulik’s ego at the combined total of eleven from his dice. Nine Rings was a gambling game loved by Durin’s Folk and Men alike with a very simple premise. Highest total won. So you bet and bluff to convince your opponent that you have as close to twelve beneath the cup as possible. However, there was one small exception. Nine always trumped any other number. Therefore, when Bilbo lifted his cup to reveal the five and four, there was a near frenzy of excitement. Drulik was rendered speechless as Bilbo lifted his pint in cheer before downing the ale all in one go. Producing a sack from his coat pocket, he raked all the golden coins towards him.

“Well lads, this has been more excitement than any hobbit can take, but I think I’m going to leave now while my fortunes are in my favor.”

“You cheated.” Drulik growled. “You had to have.”

“Check my dice if you wish.” Bilbo offered with a shrug.

The tavern owner, Nifror, who ran as honorable a den as one could for thieves and ruffians was at their table in a flash. Bilbo had heard a tale that the last dwarf who cheated at the game got their loaded dice pinned, one to each hand, with a knife made by Nifror’s wife. He threw the dice a few times and each time they landed with a different number. He shrugged.

“The hobbit’s clean.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of Drulik’s own gaped.

“Yeah, we loaded them ourselves!” The other snarled.

There was a pause and then Old Nifror was on them in a flash. Some moved to help the old barkeep out. The rest roared and placed bets on the winner. Meanwhile, Bilbo used this as the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He dropped the loaded dice he had smuggled into his pocket on the ground with a snort. Like he would be that stupid. Now most would have worried walking around with that much gold around the dregs of Erebor’s underworld. Fortunately, Bilbo was a professional at remaining quiet and unseen. A talent he had been forced to pick up early in his life. Which is why he nearly screamed when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Make a good haul?” The dwarf smirked.

Bilbo turned around with a glare. “You know you don’t have to be so smug every time you manage to catch me off guard.”

Nori, Bilbo’s oldest and dearest friend, just raised an eyebrow as he tried and failed to hide the mischievous superiority oozing from his every pore.

“Just like to remind you, you’re not the best just yet.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he continued on his way knowing the dwarf was following.

“We both know I was headed to your place eventually so is there a reason you’re bugging me now?”

“Can I not worry over the sake of my friend?” Nori gasped overdramatically.

Bilbo snorted but made no arguments or agreements.

“Well, if I were coming to find you, it might have something to do with the fact that your husband finished up his duties early today to surprise you.”

The coin he was holding nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“Valar above!” Bilbo swore. “That dwarf. He’s positively incorrigible!”

“He’s in love.” Nori pointed out.

Bilbo scoffed. “Love. Well shit, looks like you’re going to have to take this to our hiding place for me.”

Bilbo shoved the bag of gold into the dwarf’s chest before power walking towards the secret tunnels. Nori kept stride with him, clearly not done delivering bad news.

“Are you anywhere close to the right amount?”

“I’ve nearly two-thirds at this point.”

“Bilbo, you only have a week left.”

“I’m well aware, Nori! Maybe it's enough to...buy me more time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the whole point of you marrying some rich noble supposed to give you easy access to the treasury?”

“It was, but there was one teeny detail we didn’t take into account.”

“What’s that?”

Bilbo paused, his face falling into a grimace. “In-laws.”

***

One of the first things Bilbo and Nori did upon their rushed and unplanned move to Erebor from Ered Luin was scope out the best places for a quick getaway. They just so happened to make kind with a chatty miner named Bofur who, while deep in his cup, told them that the royal wing originally was meant to be on the other side of the mountain. When the architects realized the disadvantage of having the royal family so far from the guards’ posts and war meeting rooms, rather than just move the furniture back down only to go back up on the correct side, they cut unmapped tunnels around the outside of the mountain. It also had the added advantage of getting their monarchy out quicker in the case of a coup if the knowledge hadn’t been lost through time. It was perfect for the thieves’ needs. In almost no time at all, Nori and Bilbo had found the tunnels and utilized them fully. 

Something the hobbit was thankful for now as he flew down the tunnel to get back to his room. He welcomed the blast of mountain wind to rapidly cool the sweat on his face before ducking back into the opposite entrance. There was a small alcove where Bilbo’s fancier clothes lay and he all but threw himself out of his worn threads for the finer silks and cotton. The last thing he did was pocket the brooch before sprinting back down the tunnel braiding and beading his hair on the run. Once he was back in the royals’ wing, he ducked his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and then silently made his way to his suite. After closing the door behind him, Bilbo relaxed against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

“And just where have you been, Husband of Mine?”

Bilbo prided himself on the fact that he did not squeak even if he did jump nearly two feet in the air. Thorin, Prince of Erebor, was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace looking rather pleased with himself. Bilbo attempted to calm his racing heart as he stepped forward, plastering what he hoped to be a loving grin on his face.

“Just a walk on the cliffs with Nori. Surely, you would not deny this hobbit the feel of fresh air and sunshine?”

Thorin stood at that point, meeting him about halfway. His thumb gently caressed Bilbo’s cheek.

“If I had it my way, I would deny you nothing, ukradê (my greatest heart).”

Bilbo hummed in practiced delight as he met his husband’s lips with his own. The hobbit was at least content with the knowledge that as far as dwarves went, Thorin was stunningly handsome. Not a sentiment necessarily shared with others of his race. Which worked out just fine for Bilbo as it left a prince of all things, uncommitted and available.

“By the way, look what I found this morning.” Bilbo stepped back with a teasing smile as he produced the brooch from his pocket.

“My mother’s brooch!” Thorin gaped as he took it reverently. “Where…?”

“It was under my bed. You must have dropped it when you paid me a surprise visit last night.”

Thorin smirked as he latched onto Bilbo’s hips. “I remember the night well.”

Oh, and he was a really, really good bed partner. No, Bilbo was well aware he could have it much worse. It was just the dwarf’s nauseating romanticism that nearly caused him to roll his eyes more than once. Thorin gave him a long lingering kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s own. Their hands found their way into each other’s naturally interlocking.

“I promise, it won’t always be like this.” Thorin murmured when he finally pulled away, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Like this. The dwarf was so dramatic. It constantly made Bilbo feel like some player performing for the court. Heaving a sigh as he looked down between their conjoined hands. 

“We’ve been married for eight months, and two of those have been spent here in Erebor. If your family was going to accept me, they would have done so by now.”

Thorin released his hands so he could lift Bilbo’s chin to look at him.

“Don’t lose faith yet, amrâlimê (my love). I have a plan.”

It was a good thing Bilbo was a talented actor. He laughed, causing Thorin to smile.

“You have a plan? That sounds dangerous.”

“Tease all you want, but I have all the confidence in this plan.”

“Well, out with it. What have you come up with?”

Thorin shook his head teasingly. “You’ll have to wait. I want it to be a surprise.”

Bilbo linked his arms around the dwarf’s neck for leverage as he started showering him with kisses at his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and his throat.

“And I couldn’t persuade you to tell me any sooner?”

“You are cruel, thundanûd (tiny embrace).” Thorin moaned, his hands resting on Bilbo’s arms.

“It’s only cruel if you don’t accept the invitation.” Bilbo teased back as he pulled at the prince’s tunic to allow him access to his collarbone.

Thorin shuddered once with want before finding the strength to pull away. He grasped Bilbo’s hands again as he kissed him deeply as an apology.

“Later. There will be time later. But now...we are having dinner with my family.”

Bilbo’s building fire of lust was immediately doused, a small frown settled on his forehead that Thorin attempted to kiss away. Lovely, the in-laws.

It certainly wasn’t that Bilbo wanted them to like him. He could honestly care less. It was just their dislike of him that made it really difficult for him to do...well, much of anything. Thrain, still mourning the loss of his dead wife, remained suspicious and hardened against Bilbo for the sheer fact that he was a hobbit. Their marriage had yet to be announced to the Council or even the mountain in general. Keeping Bilbo out of the public eye was Thrain’s number one priority which was certainly no hardship. It was Frerin and Dis he had the biggest problems with. Thorin’s brother and sister, ever loyal to him, seemed to think Bilbo wasn’t good enough for the dwarf, and constantly had Balin, the royal advisor, keeping tabs on him. Bilbo was reluctant to admit the dwarf’s keen eyes and sharp wit, but it had taken quite a few of Bilbo’s best moves to lose his tails before entering the secret tunnels.

Therefore, coming together in the Royal Dining Room for “family dinners” was a...stilted affair. There were only two redeeming features to those evenings. One, it was always the best food Bilbo had ever eaten in his life. And two, Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili, were not the least bit bothered by him and had some story worth telling that took the edge of him for a little bit at least.

“And then the axe sailed through the air and straight into the boar’s head. So technically, technically we aren’t responsible for the mess in the trophy room.” Kili finished.

“No.” Vili, their father snorted. “Just responsible for startling the poor guard that set off the chain of events.”

“Well how were we supposed to know he was right there?” Fili defended.

Bilbo snorted in spite of himself. “Watch the shadows.”

He immediately tensed after he said it as he waited for the barrage of insults to be hurtled his way.

“Spoken like a true thief.” Dis sneered.

Yep, right on cue.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my sons.” She continued.

“Namad…” Thorin warned softly.

Thrain’s hand met the tabletop in a harsh bang. “What have I said about speaking our language in front of the Halfling?!”

Bilbo sighed and turned his attention to his soup as the line of Durin flexed their tempers. Thorin rising to his defense, Dis and Thrain attempting to argue their points louder, Frerin leaving snide quips here and there, and Vili trying and failing to keep the peace. The joy of family dinners.

“Actually, while we’re on this subject, I have something to say.” Thorin demanded, his voice low and regal. “I will be gone the remainder of the week.”

Everyone, including Bilbo, froze and stared up at Thorin in relative confusion and outrage. The prince’s eyes were boring holes straight into his father whose scowl would be enough to frighten wargs off at this point.

“And just where will you be?” The king finally spat.

Thorin reached down for Bilbo’s hand making the hobbit supremely discomforted. Thorin’s eyes were soft and pleading though as they met his.

“We will be taking the Trial of Souls.”

“We’ll be doing what now?” Bilbo questioned.

“Thorin…” Dis murmured at a surprisingly subdued volume, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Finally! A sensible idea!” Frerin declared. 

All eyes rested on the brunette as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think? I mean, to put it bluntly, everyone at this table has been trying to convince Thorin out of this marriage in some way. When they don’t emerge from the tunnels together, that would be a pretty good indicator of the truth.”

“We haven’t. We like Bilbo.” Kili reminded softly.

Bilbo shot the troublemakers a quick smile of thanks. They were idiots, but they were sweet. Meanwhile, Thrain was rubbing his beard in thought before nodding once.

“Yes, this will do well. In fact, if you make it through all five chambers, I’ll hold a feast in honor and publically accept your union.”

Thorin nodded, still looking rather cross with his father. “As I’d hoped.”

Bilbo found he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now, wait! Wait just a minute! What is this...Trial of Souls?”

Thorin stared at his father for permission, and the king granted it almost the picture of satisfaction. Being a gambler, it made Bilbo largely nervous as Thorin turned back towards him.

“It’s a series of tests to prove two dwarves...or in our case, a dwarf and a hobbit, are Ones.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no words were able to come out.

“Problem, Halfling?” Dis questioned with mock innocence.

“Thorin, a moment if you please.” Bilbo was finally able to say as he pulled his stone-headed husband out into the hall.

“Are you serious?!” He finally rounded on him.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“Thorin, I…” Bilbo fought for the right words without making this worse. “I don’t understand. What exactly do we have to prove? We’re married. Shouldn’t that be enough?!”

Thorin sighed. “It should. You are correct, ibinê (my gem). But don’t you see? It’s perfect! My family will be satisfied by our success at the Trials, and it’ll be irrefutable evidence to the rest of the mountain if any rose to challenge us. And politics aside, I want this for us.”

“Us?” Bilbo repeated too numb to be completely in control of his mouth.

“Yes!” Thorin nodded eagerly. “Couples that pass the Trials of Souls find they become closer than ever. Our...relationship hasn’t been for very long, and I respect that your past is painful to you, but I want to know you azyungel (love of loves). I want to know everything there is to know about my husband, and share myself in return. What do you say?”

Now being a hardened thief, the hobbit knew a thing or two about how to get out of a seemingly hopeless situation. However, as his mind swirled and swirled around the damnable logic of Thorin’s decision, he found himself becoming dizzy and nauseated. That was it then. Bilbo was doomed. He had just enough time to get out a soft ‘nope’ before he fell over in a dead faint.

[ensrensage]

19, 26, and 38 (also I did eat a food)

Thank you for eating a food

19: Share a snippet from a WIP without giving any context for it. (No context, but because I’m proud of this section-)

Israel’s gut tied itself into knots at the question. It had been early in his career as a pirate, but not theirs, and early in their relationship, the friendship they’d both ruined eventually. Calico Jack had gotten cruel and handsy where he had no right to, and Des had downed him in a display of spectacular violence before Izzy could even step in - as newly minted quartermaster, he had been rather protective in the early days, fresh from deserting the Navy. He recalled in great clarity their bloodied sneer as they threatened Jack’s manhood with a sword stabbed close enough to have been called a miss, recalled the roiling arousal at hearing them growl Next one makes you a eunuch, you fucking cunt— it was the same arousal he’d felt with their boot on his neck the day his ship was captured, watching them look to their captain for word of whether to kill him or render him unconscious. What he also recalled was that Edward -Blackbeard- had made it a point to flog them in front of the crew, and handed Izzy the whip.

Anyway that’s not gonna see the light of day for forever, but it’s the first time I’ve been proud of a wip in a while instead of just wanting to set the whole iPad on fire.

26: What would you describe as OOC?

Hooooo boy you’ve gotten some of my rants about this. For me, I’d describe OOC as actions or behaviors that I’m unable to reconcile as potentialities from a canon character, even if I took them two steps in any other direction from the text. Obviously, everyone has their own headcanons and how they interpret media - I’m a slut for writing self-inserts and refuse to feel cringe about it, for example. This one is weird to answer because I’ve mostly gotten to the point where if I feel something is too out of character for me to suspend disbelief, I give a kudo and hit the back button, so beyond the italic, I really don’t??? Know??? What I would describe as OOC??? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Regardless of what I feel about something coming across as what i feel might be OOC, I keep it in private channels to get it out of my system instead of taking it to the writers.

38: “This never happened” fix-it fics or “this happened but” fix-it fics?

I don’t have a favorite child. You know well that one of my AUs is a “this never happened” fix-it (if we wanna nitpick about it), but I like and can often see the potential for both? It really depends on the media itself and what the circumstances are that swings me one way or the other. Fix-it fics are also a love language lol

[lokkanel]

Writing Tag Game!

I was tagged by @ghostcat3000 😽

Tagging @hodgehegposts @vmcgmidlifecrisis @mazarin01 @always-evak @modestytreehouse (no pressure ;)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

18 (including a collection of 22 ficlets)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

189,059

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Connection (rated E, 30k)

Even is flying back home to Oslo, Isak is moving to the States.

They meet somewhere in between when their connecting flights are cancelled due to a storm.

~

One week (rated M, 12k)

This thing going on between Isak and Even, whatever they called it - fuckbuddies, friends with benefits - was simple, fun, nothing more. They were friends, they were both free to do whatever they wanted with other people. They’d just meet and have sex whenever they felt like it.

Simple.

Until what was bound to happen eventually did and Even fell for Isak.

(or Even has seven days to give Isak the full boyfriend experience) (no one is a robot here, though)

~

Right next door (rated T, 24k)

Isak's life is turned upside-down when a handsome stranger moves in right next door...

~

Midnattssol (rated M, 32k)

Even is a successful writer suddenly at a standstill, who decides that fleeing Oslo to spend the summer in the remote village of Grønnvåg in the northern fjords will help him write his new book. There, he will meet Isak and find a lot more than his lost inspiration.

Written for the 2021 SKAM Big Bang with beautiful illustrations by Jasmine

~

Lover, where do you live? (rated T, 16k)

The day he turns eighteen, Isak eagerly awaits to see the name of his soulmate be revealed on his skin. But when a mark finally appears, it is nothing more than a few thin, unreadable lines...

4. Do you respond to comments?

Yes.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It was Connection back when this story was still a one-shot. But then I wrote four additional chapters to fix that angsty ending. I’m weak.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

They all have happy endings because I’m a sap, but I’d say the ending of On Christmas morning might be the fluffiest.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

No.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I have written only once E rated story so far and some M rated scenes, so I can’t really say I have a particular genre, but knowing myself it would be smut with lots of feelings I guess?

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Someone wrote a fic that was heavily inspired by one of mine. They later indicated that my fic was the inspiration so I believe it was more homage than theft but still, I wasn’t exactly happy about the way it happened.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Right next door, Let them talk, Alone with you, Senses and On Christmas morning have all been translated into Russian (links in the author’s notes)

Someone asked if they could translate one of my fics in Korean but I never heard from them again, so who knows? Maybe it exists somewhere...

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No

13. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Until recently, I believed I would never finish Will you stay? But I’m starting to want to get back to it. I still like that story and I want to tell it till the end.

14. What are your writing strengths?

Feelings, sensations, knowing the characters deeply (so I’ve been told? idk)

15. What are your writing weaknesses?

Battling with a language that isn’t my own and sometimes spending hours on just a few simple phrases. My incapacity to expand my writing and develop scenes beyond what is not the essential core of the story.

16. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

If it makes sense and doesn’t render the story inaccessible to those who don’t speak that language, why not?

17. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

SKAM (first and only)

18. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Midnattssol.

[impyssadobsessions]

Something I thought about for a while though my idea was completely different LOL WIP but I don’t know if I can finish it ;w;. I’m not so good with rendering things. I had several thoughts of storylines that inspired this…  ROUGH IDEA OF THIS IMAGE: After a bad run in with some deatheaters(or wannabe deatheaters… always had the idea after the books they be some trying to resurrect or create a better dark lord.), they send a large horde of dementors to finish them off. Draco Malfoy having gotten close to Potter and his life either to mend his way or an opportunity to help chase down the remaining deatheaters. Ends up being the only one able to fight. He puts every bit of magic into his Patronus, having trouble casting it at first cause of the memories and the fear. His determination to save them outweighs all his doubt, his mind focused on Harry. Everything they done, everything he meant to him.  And because of how Patronus is such pure magic I can see it conflicting with the dark mark on Draco’s arm. It festering, and reacting to the magic that is trying to purge everything dark. As the magic Draco is summoning is from every essence he has, never stopping even as the Dark Mark is bursting and shredding apart his arm. Ending with Draco’s arm having blown off of him due to the magic clashing. Most of the Dementors having been obliterated instead of driven away. Draco having collapsed just seconds after the light fades. His wand bleached by the magic.  Harry in shock, having watched all this go down. I Had several different ideas.. i still like the first idea i had but I couldnt draw it.. i might attempt it later but I thought it be a cool Fanfic idea… likeiwritefanfic =w=; I’m bad at explaining too. It basically was like a few years after the war, there was an attack on Pansy (with spells) that left her in St. Mungos. Aurors Ron and Harry are told to go and talk to the last person seen with Pansy that day. They arrive to Malfoy Manor, to find Draco ill and way too tired to argue much. Turns out to Harry and Ron’s surprise, that Draco is a werewolf, and obviously couldn’t have harmed his bestfriend that night as he went home just before sundown. Harry annoyed they werent told of this before hand and even the paperwork barely mentions it despite Draco being  on the registry. Draco however, having good knowledge on how politics work and people who would harm his friend, gave some very helpful suggestions. Harry taking these suggestions into account started unraveling a bigger mysterious. But as it unfolds, he is forced to take leave when Andromeda Tonks ends up being one of the victims, leaving Harry to take care of teddy. Harry unable to keep his nose out of the case, winds up at Draco’s again for more information, especially with pansy being well and better. And while conversing Draco again offers some good suggestions and leads. Ends with them confirming that someone with a darkmark is attacking them, due to Teddy’s panic once getting a glimpse of Draco’s arm. Harry brings the leads and news to Robards and Kingsley with Ron’s help, and they devise a plan. Kingsley trusting Harry, decides to visit Draco to judge whether or not Draco is trustworthy and to hear his advice with his own ears. Draco is then given a chance to redeem himself, but a permanent job at the ministry if he aids them in their investigation as a temporary auror. (His Leads not only having been correct but provided an insight they did not have) The catch is he has to do it, while pretending to be Harry. Since becoming Harry be the perfect way to draw them out and keep them panicking. Draco agrees, and has to live in Harry’s shoes for a good few hours a day, drinking Polyjuice to keep the appearance while investigating. Draco works with Harry and Ron on the case back at his manor. Filling Harry in on things that happen (more or less) so they can keep up the appearance.  Eventually a raid get set up, The real Harry is under his cloak with Kingsly and other aurors on standby watching the town. While Draco pretending to be Harry is with Ron and Robards and a couple of other aurors confront the deatheaters. The raid ends up a bust as they manage to ambush them. Draco’s polyjuice wearing off mid fight, once the deatheaters realize who been golden boy all this time they loose interest and send the dementors while popping off to find the real Harry. Robards is unconscious and Ron is on the ground having been mostly petrified or injured and unable to move. (Draco being werewolf having aided him in the fighting) Draco has to make a choice, if he runs to get aid robards and ron will most likely be kissed. If he fights, he’ll more in likely be kissed. Ron telling him to get out of there, but Draco makes a stand while he attempts to cast a patronus. He starts to panic as they close in, seeing bad memories all the ones he regrets flash through his mind. Then he shakes himself free seeing the glimpse of the glasses he discarded mid fight.  His thoughts turn to harry, and the time with teddy being over. Them laughing, working. He points his wand at the horde and manage to cast a patronus. Bright and pure, that got larger and stronger the more magic and determination he put into his spell. Planning to put his all into it. The magic starts to envelope him as he only poured his thoughts about Harry. Knowing if he let Ron die, then Harry would never be the same. Harry deserved every ounce of happiness he has left and by damn would he let it go. As his thoughts stayed focus the magic starts purging and combining with his blood. Pain searing through but he doesnt stop, even as it conflicts with the dark magic on his arm..  Basically ends the same with his magic having purified and combined with what was left on his arming, blowing it off accidentally in the process. He managed to fight off the horde in a spectacular display that harry and the others can see from afar as they run towards the group, having just realized what happen. Harry stumbles in on Draco barely standing as the light fades from his wand head hung, blood pouring from his left arm. Then Draco collapses, Harry rushing into stop the bleeding out. Ron letting out a “Bloody Hell…” Surprising Harry as he did not expect Ron to be conscious, staring back at Ron. Ron giving a short explanation, joke, and telling harry to hurry and take the git to st mungos in quick couple sentences. Cover been blown but everyone manages to make it out alive, even the victims. Draco no longer having to be in Harry’s shoes, but still ends up helping solve and wrap up the criminals who crimes get bigger each time. Can see the last fighting scene involving a magical mutation to Draco’s lycanthapy that allow him to fight side by side with harry. Everyone seeing Draco being a hero too. =v=b I Thought of this one for long time reason it better.. the sketch was based off my drawing abilities… =v=‘ kek. BUT TELL ME UR IDEAS… and hopefully i get this drawing done.. ;w; Also I was debating on fox or ferret for patronus lol. =v=‘ could be wolf too, in the second story.

[blueeyedheizer]

under her wing - castor

WARNINGS: sickness, mention of needles, talks of death, violence

A/N: holy shit. I've had this fic in my WIPs for officially a year now. 🥴 It kinda sucks that no more than 5 people are going to read it but oh well... you get used to it 😂 It's my longest fic so far (4,4k words) I hope it isn't too confusing for those who haven't seen the show, I tried to keep it light on the characters and specific words used in the show. Some parts (ending included) might be a bit rushed cause in all honesty, i lost interest in this fic and ran out of inspiration so...yeah sorry about that but I really wanted to post it anyway :)

•••

"The boy's loyalty is impressive. But he's getting worse, and we're getting nowhere." you heard Nathaniel say as you placed a cold cloth on the boy's forehead, hoping for his fever to cool down a bit. You couldn't help but let your eyes explore his features as you took care of him. A couple of scars traveled across his cheeks, and his neck was covered in black veins contrasting with his pale skin. His eyes were closed, but you remembered them being some of the brightest blue you'd ever seen. He looked almost delicate despite the ferocity of his soul. Your eyes then wandered on his chest. About a dozen needles were pierced on it. The Widow said they were a necessary precaution, as the gift made him dangerous. You dipped the cloth back in the cold water before spreading it over his forehead again.

"I take it my regeant has a suggestion." the Widow continued, interrupting the small silence that had filled the room.

"Cut off his head, and send it to Pilgrim. Punishment for raiding the camp." your head shot right up.

"What?!" you left the boy's side to face Nathaniel, a look of horror on your face. "He's just a boy, Nathaniel. We're absolutely not killing him." you spat, emphasizing on 'absolutely not'. The room went silent for a moment and you scoffed, averting your eyes from Nathaniel to glance at the Widow. "Mother, say something!" you pleaded, throwing your arms in the air to show your frustration. She remained silent for a moment, pacing around as she thought of an alternative.

"We could use the boy's devotion as a weapon to weaken Pilgrim."

"The man's a zealot, we need to send a clear message."

"I won't let you do that, Nathaniel. Everything doesn't always have to be solved with cutting heads off. You'll have to find another way." you crossed your arms over your chest, well determined not to let him have the last word on this. The Widow's pacing came to a stop and she sighed.

"We're keeping him here for now until he gets better." she continued, looking at you. "If he ever does. But he's under your responsibility."

-

The same day, Cressida showed up to the Sanctuary and, as expected, threatened to attack if the boy wasn't given back to Pilgrim. After lots of talking, arguing and being on the verge of fighting, all four of you eventually agreed on a deal. Three of the widows' Butterflies were to be temporarily sent into Pilgrim's army in exchange for you to keep the boy and take care of him for a strict amount of time. 4 months, nothing more, nothing less. And if the boy dies in your hands, the Butterflies die with him.

You were the one who suggested the deal in the first place. You saw Minerva and Nathaniel's eye widen when the words left your mouth, but you felt like this had to be done. Something about the boy was intriguing, and you needed to know more about him.

The Widow had given you the order to take him to the small spare room she had originally got built to keep M.K. locked. You were against the idea of locking him up at first, but you couldn't push aside the fact that he was a Dark One, therefore much stronger than you and a potential danger to you and everyone else.

You let him get some well deserved rest and came back two hours later to check up on him.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside before carefully locking it again behind you and walking towards him. He was finally awake, lids still half closed as his sickness got the best of him, tiring him out mercilessly. You stared at him for a moment before speaking up.

"How are you feeling?" he didn't answer. Not with words anyway. But his cold, hard glare told you that he wasn't planning on getting friendly with you. You took a sit on a chair nearby, resting your forearms on your lap.

"Tell me. How does Pilgrim control your gift? I saw him turn it off." you stated, your eyes meeting his.

"You think you know about the gift? About us? You know nothing." he spat. "Pilgrim was chosen."

"By whom?"

"By Azra." You stayed silent for a moment and frowned, stunned by how brainwashed he seemed to be.

"There's no such thing as Azra." You barely managed to get those few words out before he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you down in one swift movement, rolling over and pinning you to the bed, the side of his forearm over your throat as his other hand held a blade flat against your cheek leaving you helpless.

"You know nothing about us, about Azra. About what we're fighting for." he insisted, speaking through gritted teeth.

"I may not know everything...but there is nothing beyond the Badlands." you retorted, your heart accelerating. You were well aware that the knife was still dragging across your cheek yet you were brave enough to let the words out. "This is the only ground left on earth. This...thing Pilgrim calls a safe haven, it doesn't exist. He's lying to you." You hissed, crying out when the blade pierced your skin slightly. "What do you think will happen when you're gone? He's using you, because he's nothing without your power." you continued. You could feel your face start to redden from the lack of oxygen "Just think about it." you whispered, his eyes staring dead into yours. You swallowed thickly, trying to turn your face away from the knife.

"He already found my replacement." The tone of his voice caused your expression to soften slightly. He seemed defeated, it was as if he knew his life was already over and the only thing he kept fighting for was his faith in this so called safe haven. You could tell his hands were shaking, and he was having a hard time holding himself up with his arms. A few more seconds passed by and the pressure on your throat loosened, allowing you to breathe somewhat properly again.

"I'm just trying to help." you continued in a much softer tone. "Your fever's getting worse, you won't make it if we let you go now. So please, let me help you."

Before any of you could move, you were interrupted by a shout of your name. Nathaniel and Minerva suddenly burst in the room and within just a few seconds Nathaniel had Castor on the floor with both hands around his neck.

"Nathaniel stop!" you managed to scream as you sat up and held your throat, trying to catch your breath. Nathaniel wouldn't let go, his grip on Castor tightening as he fought to free himself from his grip. You jumped from the bed, landing on the older man's back, trying to push him off the boy. "Enough!" you screamed. "Let go of him!"

"He was trying to kill you, Y/N !" Nathaniel retorted, finally letting go of him.

"I had everything under control!" you said as you helped Castor on his feet, letting him hold onto you for support. You glanced at him and had to fight back a gasp as you noticed his state.

"You're bleeding..." you said as you moved your hands to his cheek, lifting his face up to inspect the source of the bleeding. "Lay back down. Come on." He was shaking, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as he coughed. He reluctantly complied, laying back on the bed and wiping the blood off his nose.

As soon as the boy was laid back, the Widow placed a hand over your shoulder, turning you around so you could face her.

"Are you okay, did he hurt you?" she asked as she cupped your face, inspecting the small cut on your cheek, but you swiftly pushed her hand away.

"I'm fine."

"Y/N, you have to understand—"

"Look at him, for God's sake!" you suddenly yelled, startling everyone in the room. "Look at him, and tell me this boy currently has enough strength to actually hurt me." you spoke more calmly this time as you pointed to Castor. The single effort of holding himself up above you had drained him of his strength. He was breathing heavily with his eyes closed, his cheeks wet from both sweat and a few tears that had escaped the corner of his eyes. Minerva and Nathaniel were rendered speechless as they both stared at you, not knowing what to say. They didn't seem to understand why you were so invested in taking care of him, and to be completely honest, you didn't know either. There was just something about him that made you want to keep him safe.

You shook your head and scoffed before walking over to the bed and grabbing the wet cloth from the bowl, spreading it back over Castor's forehead.

-

The next day, you decided to pay him a visit early in the morning. You had woken up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep, your mind constantly going back to him. You had so many questions. What was this safe haven he told you about? Was there actually something beyond the Badlands? Why was the Gift so harmful to him if he was born with it? Your brain simply wouldn't shut off.

You greeted him politely as you opened the door to the small room, once again making sure to close it behind you.

"You can't keep me here forever." he said, not bothering with niceties. "Pilgrim will come for me. And when he does you won't live another day." the boy spat through gritted teeth, causing you to chuckle slightly. You ignored him.

"Did you get any sleep?" no answer. "I'm not your enemy, you know." you said, looking at him over your shoulder as you sterilized a needle. "I mean, technically, I am. But I really don't want to be."

"You knocked me out and kidnapped me."

"I also saved your life. And for the record, you punched me in the chest until I was left coughing blood on the floor. That makes us even." you continued. "Why don't you tell me your name?" you asked. Cressida had already mentioned his name but you wanted him to tell you himself, as a sign of trust. He didn't answer though, which caused you to sigh. "Well, I'm Y/N. If it weren't for me your head would be laying at Pilgrim's feet as we speak." he didn't say anything. Instead he pulled harder on the chains that were wrapped around his wrists and started to move around, trying to find a way to free himself.

"You're going to hurt yourself. You should save your strength." you said, flicking the needle before turning around and walking towards him. He fell back on the bed with a defeated sigh and gulped hard, his face contorting in what looked like worry. Or was it fear? You couldn't really tell. He closed his eyes, chest heaving up and down heavily. You frowned when you noticed his sudden change of demeanor. "Hey, hey. Calm down." you tried to bring him some comfort by placing your hand on his forehead, wanting to check his fever at the same time. He clenched his jaw but didn't complain. His forehead was still burning and you tried not to show your concern, not wanting to worry him more than he already was.

"What's in this?" he wondered, nodding towards the needle, the cracking of his voice destroying his attempt at sounding confident.

"Something I hope will help with your fever." your eyes met and you sighed. "Look— the chains weren't my idea. I was against it. But after what happened yesterday the Widow thought that keeping you chained would be safer for me. But I promise I have no intention of hurting you." you spoke. "I might even take them off, if you cooperate. I only want to help you get better." You stated matter of factly. Castor scanned your face in search of any indication that you might be lying, but all he saw was genuine concern. "Do you trust me?" you asked. He stayed silent for a moment before nodding slowly. He was in so much pain, he really had nothing to lose. You nodded your head back at him and moved, ready to stick the needling in his arm. "Ready?"

"Yes."

You smiled softly, trying your best to get him to relax as you prepared the injection site on his shoulder. Castor looked away and winced a little when the needle was inserted, but you were quick to pull it out after it was emptied, the medication being easily injected into his body.

"All done." you smiled as you held a compress on the area, wiping off the tiny spot of blood before throwing it away. "Now get some rest. It'll probably knock you out for a while."

"Wait." he interrupted as you were about to leave, causing you to turn to him.

"My name. It's Castor." you smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Castor."

-

You came back everyday for the next several weeks, repeating the same process. You tended to his wounds and gave him the medicine he needed to ease the pain caused by the Gift. Castor was still reluctant at first, and it went like this for a couple more days until he warmed up to you and eventually trusted you fully.

It would be safe to say the two of you became close, much closer than either of you would have ever expected.

-

"Y/N, may I speak to you for a moment?" The Widow asked, peeking from the door to your room. You looked up from your book and nodded before motioning for her to come in. She noticed Azra's book in your hands and took a seat across from you. "Can you read it yet?"

"No. Nothing about this book makes sense." you sighed with a shrug, handing it to her. She nodded but didn't say anything. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms across your chest as you rested your back on the head of your bed. "I suppose this isn't the main purpose of your visit."

"You know Castor won't stay here forever, do you?" she told you.

"I know. Why?"

"You won't see him again once he's gone." she insisted. You sighed softly, rubbing your face with your hands.

"I know that too, Mother."

"I'm not blind to the feelings you have for each other. But I need to make sure you know this thing you two have going on can't and won't last forever." she spoke softly, reaching to take your hand in hers. You nodded and gave her a small smile. There was no point avoiding the topic or lying about it.

-

Castor's recovery was going great, you even started to believe he was close to being completely healed.

But that was until his fever suddenly spiked.

You didn't know how or why it happened so suddenly. One day he was completely fine, the next he was laying almost unconscious on the bed, his breathing uneven as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Y/N...I don't think there's anything else we can do for him." Tilda spoke softly, her hand resting on your shoulder comfortingly.

"Yes. Yes we can. We need to bring a doctor, they'll know what to do. This is what we should've done since the beginning." you spoke firmly, applying a cold cloth on his forehead, your own breathing becoming uneven as your anxiety grew.

Castor whined and mumbled something unintelligible as more tears fell down his cheeks. He slowly moved his head to the side, his tired eyes meeting yours, silently begging you to make the pain go away.

"You're gonna be okay. I'm right here." you cupped his cheek with your hand, your thumb brushing it softly as you looked back at him, a tear escaping your eye.

"Quinn murdered our only doctor, Y/N. You know that."

"Then bring the doctor's daughter! She'll know what to do." you looked over your shoulder. "Tilda, please, I can't...—" you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you spoke. "I can't lose him. Okay?" you admitted in a whisper.

Silence fell in the room, only the sound of Castor's breathing filling it.

"Y/N...I really don't think that's a good idea." Tilda watched you with a pained expression. At those words you tried to keep more tears at bay, but your efforts were vain.

Tilda knew how close the both of you had grown, but most importantly she knew you had already lost way too many people in your life. With a small sigh, she eventually took her final decision before exiting the room.

"I'll see what I can do."

-

[Time skip : two weeks]

As soon as Tilda walked in the room you rushed to her and wrapped your arms around her neck, hugging her tight. She had done everything in her power to get Castor the help he needed, persuading the Window to get in contact with Veil. Both women had a long discussion about it and The Widow had to do a lot of convincing but thankfully, Veil agreed on offering her help.

After days of intense treatment and sleepless nights, Castor was finally out of danger.

"Thank you. Thank you so much for doing this." you whispered, holding her close.

"You're welcome, Y/N. I'm glad he's okay." you smiled at her, nodding before pulling away to give Veil the same grateful embrace.

"Thank you, Veil. I owe you."

"It's nothing. You did a great job at keeping him alive yourself. He probably wouldn't have made it this far without the medicine you gave him." she pulled back and looked over to the sleeping boy next to you. You smiled and nodded slowly, thanking her one last time and bidding her farewell as she left. Tilda followed, leaving you alone with Castor.

You sat on the chair next to his bed and took his hand into yours, holding it while you waited for him to wake up, which he did after about 10 minutes.

"Hey." you smiled, reaching over to cup his cheek, softly stroking his scars. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." he mumbled as he tried to sit up, wincing as he did. His head was still hurting from the heavy medication.

"Hey, easy." you placed a hand on his chest, easing him back down. Castor groaned, eyes closing as his head fell back against the pillow. Moving from your sitting position, you poured him a glass of water and then returned to his side. "Here."

Taking the glass from you, he only took a few sips before already giving it back. After that, a small silence settled between you two.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you murmured. He didn't answer immediately, seemingly deep in thoughts.

"Why are you so good to me, Y/N? When I first got here, you never tried to get revenge for what I did to you. You've always been here for me, taking care of me when I never did anything to deserve half of it. Why?" you smiled, looking down at your hands.

"Because I believe you're not like Pilgrim." You stared at each other in silence for a couple seconds.

"He took care of me when no one else would. He's a good person, Y/N."

At that you chose not to answer, not wanting this to grow into an argument since Castor was always quite defensive when it came to Pilgrim. Instead you just smiled and squeezed his hand, letting him know that he would always have you.

And before you knew it, it was time to let him go.

-

Sitting by the window, you watched as everyone got ready for Pilgrim's arrival.

"Are you okay?" a voice interrupted your thoughts. Nodding, you quickly wiped your wet cheeks and put on a smile, holding your arms close to yourself.

"Yeah."

Castor smiled sympathetically as he took a step closer, crouching in front of you to try and meet your gaze. He was doing much better than the past weeks. His skin had regained its normal color, his eyes were brighter than you'd seen them before. And after a long, exhausting fight, his fever was gone for good, and he was ready to be sent back where he belonged. You lowered your head, only for him to tenderly lift your chin.

"As soon as we find Azra..." he started, intertwining his fingers with yours. "I'll come back for you."

"Castor..."

"I know. I know you think there's no safe haven. But I promise you it's worth believing in."

"Cas...even if you do find Azra, Pilgrim will never let me through. I've never had faith in it, and I still don't. We're supposed to be enemies." you gave him a sad smile, reaching out to brush your thumb over his cheek.

"I'll find a way. You're my family now, Y/N."

You ran a hand through his hair, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead and nodding against it. Your eyes were tightly shut, a couple tears falling freely.

"Castor, Y/N..." the Widow's voice interrupted. "It's time."

-

You felt Castor's hand brush against yours as you walked side by side, then your fingers intertwined. The two of you walked close to each other, making sure no one could see them.

With one last squeeze, he let go of your hand and walked over to Pilgrim. The older man pulled him into a fatherly embrace, his face filled with relief and gratefulness before pulling away.

"Thank you for taking care of my son and bringing him back to me." Pilgrim spoke, looking at you then the Widow. You nodded politely before glancing over to Castor who was now greeting his sister, Nix. You had to fight back tears as your eyes met one last time. You nodded at him with a bittersweet smile before turning on your heels and walking away.

-

6 months later

It was the third time in three weeks that the Sanctuary had been attacked. You were still completely clueless as to who you were fighting against, but after so many attacks in such a short amount of time they sure had something against the Widow. It was something you were used to though, and you considered yourself lucky that other clans were here to help because without them most of your people would've been dead by now. The losses were heavy this time, though. The enemy had great advantage over you and a dozen of your people along with those from the helping clans had been killed or badly injured.

You were gathering the bodies when you were startled by a familiar voice coming from behind you, causing you to still. You waited an instant before turning around, your eyes searching for the source.

And then you saw him.

"Castor." you breathed out, a smile spreading over your lips as you made your way to him. As soon as you made eye contact you lunged forward, dropping what you were doing and throwing your arms around his neck with a relieved laugh. Castor's arms immediately found their way around your waist wrapping tightly around you as he pulled you close. You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, your thumb rubbing underneath his eyes and down his cheek, tracing his scars with your fingertips.

"What are you doing here? Why— Why didn't you come back sooner?" you asked in a bittersweet tone.

Your questions were left unanswered as he pressed his lips against yours, his hands immediately moving to cup your face. You were taken aback at first but eventually you gave in, closing your eyes. You lips comfortably moved in sync, allowing the kiss to last for a moment. Now was probably not the best time for this to happen, but you couldn't care less.

"He killed Nix." he murmured after parting from the kiss.

"What?"

"Pilgrim. He killed her." your hand rested on his cheek, stroking it soothingly. He was on the verge of tears, fighting hard to stop them from falling. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, your eyes searching for his. So many questions were running through your head. Why did Pilgrim kill Nix? She was like a daughter to him. Did she betray him? Did Castor come back here to find shelter? However you knew the wound was too fresh for you to start asking questions as his eyes betrayed the pain he was trying to hide.

You looked around yourself to see if anyone needed help, but it seemed like everything was being handled. You locked eyes with the Widow from afar and you exchanged a nod.

"Follow me." you grabbed Castor's hand and led him inside the Sanctuary, locking yourself in a room. As soon as you were away from the chaos you pulled him in for a proper hug, taking a deep breath of relief as you held him close to yourself.

"I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too." he murmured, his eyes closing for a moment as he tightened his hold around your waist and finally allowed himself to cry. "You were right about everything." he chuckled sadly, causing you to pull away. "Azra was nothing but a made up lie. If it ever existed, it doesn't anymore. It was wiped out with the Old World." you nodded understandingly before leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his cheek.

"It's not your fault Cas. You couldn't know."

"No, but I could've listened to you."

You smiled sympathetically, caressing his cheeks gently with your thumbs.

"You trusted Pilgrim. He was your family, I wouldn't have expected you to choose me over him." you whispered.

Then a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Nothing more needed to be said, not yet, you were both happy to have found each other again.

"Have you found another Baron?"

"No, i'm on my own. Nix and I were still looking for one when..." he paused.

"It's okay." you interrupted, cradling his face in your hands and pressing your forehead against his. "You don't have to explain." he nodded, closing his eyes. "You're safe with me now. I promise."

[simtrospective]

SCRAPPED STORY CHALLENGE by @bugsims

01. Post a few screenshots from a scrapped scene / edit / story! 02. Share why you scrapped this specific thing. 03. Tag five friends, and watch the fun play out!

Thank you to @gilded-ghosts for the tag.

Because I wrote so much that you might prefer to skip, let me do 03. outside the cut. I tag...

@ladykendalsims - @jet-plane-sims - @boogey-studios - @pinkmonsimblr - @dynastiasimss

The above pictures (plus the related tray files) are all I have left of an idea that was half-formed to begin with and which never got off the ground at all.

01.

Depending on if you’re a follower of mine + how long you’ve been following me, you may have seen a few of these shots before but I’ll explain them anyway:

Set 1: The characters Charlie, Hick, and Craig, in their original states on the left and their enhanced, final states on the right;

Set 2: A few WIP pictures of the performance space/club/thing I built;

Set 3: A bunch of test shots I took to see how the characters looked interacting, what they did naturally, and how they looked when I ~directed them. I used these pics to try and find my editing style for the story. I didn’t find the style I wanted. Clearly.

02.

I scrapped this idea because it never came together; I didn’t connect with the characters; I didn’t care about the storyline; I’m not done with my new save so I couldn’t ~comfortably start telling this story when the rest of the world was/is disordered; and on and on. The point is, I wasn’t feeling any of this. Oh! And I hate the whole vibe and time period and aesthetic irl; what on earth was I thinking writing about it?!

So. What was this going to be?

[[Under the cut because this is... so, so long. So long.]]

Charlie, Hick, and Craig were

going

to live in Del Sol Valley in my new save, in the Pinnacles neighborhood, which I was

going

to turn into a Laurel Canyon-style neighborhood. An entire community of would-be songwriters/musicians were

going

to live in the two smaller lots and commune with one another and be the New Guard colliding with the Old Guard; the huge mansion lot was

going

to house an aging former film-current soap actor confronting his mortality and also hating the living shit out of these hippies whose existence he took as a personal affront--I digress. Back to the “story.”

Charlie, Hick, and Craig met after each arrived in DSV separately and they vibed and they moved in together, all in a matter of, like, a week’s time. Charlie and Hick vibed especially. So much in common! Such poor little rich [kids]! Both came from pampered environments in which their family money and respective fathers’ connections allowed them to skate through life and to play at being musicians because--despite crying oppression at the hands of upper class WASP-dom--they'll always have safety nets to ensure they’ll always be okay. Charlotte Grant graduated from her all-girls prep school and put on a floppy hat and became Charlie Grant; Richard Hickey (lololol) ripped up his acceptance letter to Britechester and grew his hair out and hitchhiked and told people to call him “Hick.” They’ve lived parallel lives and “recognize” one another as soon as they meet. They have an electric connection, but neither will verbalize that. Above all, they... really want to sleep together.

Craig grew up working class and has no safety net; he just wants a little adventure before he gets a real job/grows up/gets married (his gf back home is off to college; they’re long-distance; it’s... not going to work). He’s a good guitar player and he’s a good songwriter and that’s it but maybe it’ll be more? What do they say about the lottery? Can’t win if you don’t play? Charlie and Hick want to be famous ~rule the world. Hick plays guitar well and tries to write songs but they’re shitty. Charlie is passively learning the keyboard and writes songs that are not... bad...? Some are... good?

Charlie and Hick--can you tell they eclipse Craig, yet?--have weird sexual chemistry and tension: they tease, they flirt, they taunt, they enjoy one another’s attention but they never so much as hug. They both have cruel streaks as only disconnected, spoiled, emotionally stunted bluebloods can: the torture of their relationship/non-relationship gets them off more than anything else could and that thrill drives much of their behaviors: bringing wanton strangers home for one night stands, each hoping the other is watching/overhearing, fighting about little things, acting like inappropriately close siblings, acting like strangers. Craig suffers their whims; Charlie and Hick aren’t just united in their toxicity and their dreams of fame, but in how they make Craig into a third wheel or a--well, punching bag is too strong a term. Charlie and Hick think they’re teasing their bff but you know how it is to be teased allllll the tiiiiiiime and how it can make your head spin when people who can’t get along with one another join forces--without even having to discuss it--to turn on you. Their relationship gets patched up, you’re hurting, they insist it’s not a big deal and even that you even liked it. We’re all friends. We’re all best friends omg.

But sometimes they have fun together. They have a lot of fun together. Sometimes it all is everything each dreamed it would be. DSV is a wonderland and their careers are happening and life is happening and they’re best friends. They’re soulmates for life.

The three work on music, perform at clubs. Craig is starting to come into his own as a man. I hate the term coming-of-age but in the background of the Charlie & Hick Show, Craig is maturing. He has to, because C&H are fuck-ups. They jeopardize scheduled performances. They don’t know how to talk to club owners. They’re not interested in paying their dues. They are unable (or unwilling) to promote themselves without being obnoxious attention whores. They don’t practice or help write songs. They don’t take care of the house. Hick is late with his rent. Charlie thinks she can flirt her way out of everything. Craig is also the only one of them who works; he has a day job at a print shop, gives guitar lessons on the side, and makes sure the three get gigs and don’t get evicted. The only thing C&H put consistent effort toward is making the social scene or finding a party or scoring drugs or getting laid. As the group’s local star(s) rise, their fates start to change course which increases the interpersonal tension. Hick’s fun-loving nature is starting to turn into a legit substance abuse problem and he’s picking fights with the wrong people and socially devolving, his arrogance and issues and general laziness rendering him unable to relate to others; Charlie is getting a lot of attention from older men In the Business, who have the money and connections to make her a solo star, which she is shrewdly considering; and Craig’s resentment toward his “friends” and disillusionment with the superficiality of DSV is making him rethink his motivation for coming west in the first place.

Oh, and Charlie and Hick--again, as their paths change and as their weird tension remains unresolved--continue to take their bullshit out on Craig and now it’s not funny anymore, it’s not cute, it’s not exciting, and neither is it when Hick ruins a show by being too stoned to perform and neither is it when Charlie brings unsavory characters home who trash the three’s equipment and neither is it when C&H steal Craig’s songs and perform without him at a gig they didn’t tell him about.

What I intended was that the story would at first seem to be The Charlie and Hick Show, all about them, as if we’re supposed to root for them, but ideally, through my ~deft hand 🙄 the reader 🙄🙄 was supposed to be like, Um... hold on-- until it eventually was quite obvious that these two--though human; though in situations we could understand and empathize with--were captured at a point in their lives when they were Super Toxic Assholes, and what you were watching all along was Craig as Hero.

So I had ideas, but I didn’t know how to fit them together and I didn’t want a really long story and I couldn’t--I just couldn’t figure it out. I do know that the end was going to be Craig screwing them like they’d been screwing him, a final middle finger with consequences. I know that he and Hick were going to have words and Hick was going to try and fight him (such a loser) and Charlie was going to throw a Hail Mary of like... trying to seduce (lol) Craig into staying omg I always had a thing for you/we’d be such a great team/I always thought we could ~be something ~together uwu bullshit like that. Was this true? Was this true in her own mind? I think I was going to set the story up so that if you reread, yeah, it could be true, but she’s so flirty and manipulative and socially savvy and used to getting what she wants that who knows what her real feelings ever are? Ultimately that would’ve been irrelevant bc Craig never looked at her that way and hates her and Hick now; good going guys. It’s worth noting, I guess, that when I put the group on a test lot, Charlie was super into Craig immediately, went right to him, stood close to him, was eager to make romantic overtures; she went 0 to 60 in an instant and as so far as is possible in this game they had chemistry, but Craig was not feeling the romance. And no one was feeling Hick.

Anyway, Craig was going to move on with his life and Charlie and Hick were going to learn nothing and blame him, ~the end.

And then, as I continued to play my save and maybe tell more stories, there would be Easter eggs, references to Charlie, Hick, and Craig older/in the future and where they went in life in the background of other, unrelated stories: Hick’s substance abuse problems and rehab stints and going by Richard again and his eventual moderate fame and eventual sobriety and attempted comeback and his bad relationships with his exes and children; Charlie’s legit fame + marriage to a producer + eventual fade away + moderate comeback + solid second or third marriage and bff relationship with her children 🙄🙄🙄 and her palatial house on the coast and now she exclusively wears white and ivory and pampers her dogs and eats raw (but drinks wine) because it “cured” her undiagnosed, unnamed “autoimmune disorder,” which she wrote a book about resulting in a semi-comeback but as a Famous Person and not a musician. Craig going to college and becoming a high school English teacher who plays in a local band on the weekends and who has a good marriage (not to the long distance gf) and nice kids, one of whom would eventually have her own story where she pursued musicianship with her dad, which got him back into his first passion but it was a qt father-daughter project and not An Attempt to Be Famous.

So. Idk. That’s what this all would’ve been. But it wasn’t, and it won’t be!

[septiembrre]

17-21

Thanks, @femalegothic for responding to my hankering to talk about fan art tonight.

17. Who is your favorite character to draw on Good Girls overall?

I haven’t drawn everyone yet but I have a couple of Ruby/Retta WIPs that have been a lot of fun. She’s the first character I drew when I started to pick up fan art last Fall. I generally love Retta’s makeup both on and off camera -- especially Season 1 Ruby. 

18. Who do you prefer to draw: Beth or Rio? What’s your favorite thing about them to draw? Least favorite?

Lol at me putting this question on the list and not having an answer. 

UM... 

Rio? I guess? I spend a lot of time admiring his face and fan art seems like the natural progression of that. 

Favorite thing: Oh god, how do I answer this without sounding ridiculous? Um, something I’ve noticed lately is how naturally pink Rio’s lips are and I’m kind of obsessed. It’s a detail that brings me joy along with those thick eyelashes and brows. It’s a double whammy, Rio is pretty and he’s so expressive!  Drawing him is fun. 

Least favorite: Definitely, the facial hair. 

That being said, I also love drawing Beth happy. Beth/happiness is my true OTP. 

19. Of your GG fan art, which is your favorite?

I had a lot of fun with the portrait of Rio I posted earlier. But, I also love this Get To Be Mine thing. It was my first finished fan art and it’s kind of terrible and difficult to look at now. But! They’re so cute in this and one day I want to draw more of these dummies being happy and cute. 

20. Who/what would you like to draw more of in the future?

Ugh, I have this whole idea around drawing throwback pictures of the various characters. But, it’s SO ambitious. I want to do:

Mall photos of teenage Beth and Ruby

Pictures of Beth and Ruby at each other's weddings

BABY Mae Whitman and young Christina as like the cutest pair of siblings

Ruby/Stan in their early 20s

and highschool aged OT3: Rhea + Rio + Mick (I’m wildly excited about this one and it actually might be the one I try first)

Thinking about the project is immediate serotonin but I don’t quite have the digital skill to do this yet without making it an ugly mess. 

I realized I needed to start simple. I’m redrawing some of the scenes/still of the show -- taking it step by step. I’m hoping I can end up at my #tbt photostream eventually. 

21. Do you have strong feelings about the Eagle/Hawk/Owl/Phoenix bird of prey tattoo? 

I was really nervous to draw the bird tattoo for the first time but it honestly wasn’t that bad. 

That being said, it’s like a bogus extra challenge right when I’ve finished rendering everything else. Oh, you’re basically done? Yeah, well now you have to go shade in that shadow you smeared on Rio’s neck. Here’s another half-hour to an hour to render this last obnoxious and unfortunately necessary detail. 

Fan Art Ask Meme

[theyhaveacavetroll]

Tagged by @xpityx. The first tag for my new url!! Thank you!!

Rules: Write the latest line(s) from your WIP and tag as many people as   there are words in the (last) line. Make a new post, don’t reblog.

I'm going to just tag people since I have a lot of WIPs.

1. Alec Rescues Himself Fic:

He does not move, not until Alec’s eyelids start to move and the clamor in the hallway tells him that Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan have arrived just in time to see their son wake up and ask muzzily why everyone is crying.

2. Sylvester Needs an Attitude Adjustment:

She might have an apology to render, one that she would not have offered before she’d found April.

3. Christmas?

Alec had head trauma that day - head trauma after pre-existing memory loss, and small wonder that he can’t recall much of what occurred beyond some fragments of their fight and the flight to Switzerland that had followed. James wonders if he even recalls their stopover in Florida.

4. Faramir Fic:

Faramir tightened his grip.

“Where is the palantir?” he asked, and Boromir grimaced.

“It sits in the Tower,” he answered.

5. AU where Morgoth pulls a Winter Soldier on Maedhros:

“This isn’t funny!” he snapped. “These were Thingol’s guards. What if there are more waiting for us?”

“There aren’t.” All four brothers whirled to find the source of the voice that sounded from across the clearing.

Note: I think these are the last lines I wrote in this WIP but it's been a while.

6. Hobbit Fic:

Note: I genuinely have no idea what my last written lines were on this, so I'm giving you one of the good sections.

“Master Baggins! What brings you to this corner of Middle Earth?”

The hug caught the hobbit off guard. He tensed, and then did as best he could to relax once more. He had met King Frerin before, then, in this life. Damn.

“Your Majesty.” He managed to get the words out, and to smile. He hoped that it was the correct reaction. He hoped, too, that eventually he would recover the memories that went with this body. He bowed in the dwarven fashion, and was relieved when neither Frerin or Dis commented upon the mannerism.

7. A Distinct Lack of Silence (in the library):

“Oh thank you lady goddess,” she murmured, looking at her somehow unstained, unharmed shoes that had cost fifty dollars that had come dear at the time she bought them.

8. The one where Charles' mother is alive:

Oh. She has mistaken his concern, then - perhaps not completely but still, she has done so, and for a moment she cannot quite breathe with how much she loves him. He is not concerned for himself but for her. For them. For the small family that they have made for themselves and those they love.

tagging absolutely anyone who wants to do the thing! Come one, come all, show us what you're working on if you feel ready to do so!

[elfrootaddict]

WIP Wednesday (Thursday)

Some more WIP stuff for this week :)

This weeks tags: @kita-lavellan @mrstethras @silvanils @noire-pandora @shadowcrow @jarakrisafis @followingthewolf

~~~

Extract of my Halla & Wolf series: Growing Pains (chapter 3)

“Andaran athis’an,” murmurs Knowledge as it slowly approaches. “Mir falon.”

“Mirthadra Ghil-Dirthalen,” answers Solas in return. “I am glad to have found you.”

The Spirit stops their approach and offers a respectful nod to an old friend. With only a luminous green, opaque form of a body and no legs to speak of, the Spirit naturally hovers above the ground in a steady vacillating motion, “What may I share with you? What is it that you seek to know?”

Solas places both hands behind his back, a stance he always takes when he feels calm and safe, and begins a slow stride next to a steady flowing stream beside large blossoming trees. As Solas steps lightly and purposefully, he enjoys how soft the green grass is underneath his bare feet and notices the white fallen flowers that litter the ground around him. Knowledge promptly follows Solas and hovers beside him.

“I am seeking artefacts that measure the strength of the veil,” begins Solas looking down at the ground. “However, I know not where to find them since Arlathan.”

“Ah yes,” murmurs Knowledge looking out ahead. “I know of what you speak.”

“Do you know where I can find them?” inquires Solas as he lifts his head up to regard the faceless Spirit.

“I do not,” Knowledge politely turns its head to regard Solas’s gaze. “Although, might I suggest that you speak with Curiosity? I believe they might know where you may find these artefacts.”

Solas stops his slow stroll, and so too does Knowledge, and offers the Spirit a gentle smile of gratitude, “Ma serannas. You have been most helpful.”

“You are always welcome, lethallin.”

~~~

Extract from my Halla & Wolf series: Growing Pains (chapter 4)

Solas eventually breaks the silence between them as he looks out ahead towards the pond, “There is actually something I wanted to discuss with you, especially since we’re headed east today.”

“Yes?”

“In my journeys, I heard of ancient elvhen artefacts that can measure the strength of the veil. However, I did not know where I could find one. So, I approached a Spirit of Knowledge in the Fade as I slept and asked if it knew where these artefacts are.”

Lana looks towards Solas intrigued, “And, did the Spirit know?”

“It did not. Fortunately, a Curiosity Spirit knew and informed me that there happens to be one nearby us somewhere in an old, abandoned ruin east from here,” and decidedly pauses in anticipation. “I was wondering if the Inquisition would agree or perhaps see the value in finding these artefacts?”

“Well,” Lana pauses as she thinks about her answer carefully. “I can only speak for myself and say that finding these artefacts sounds really important. You said they can measure the strength of the vail? Does that mean they could somehow tell us where a rift might occur before it even happens?”

“Yes,” answers Solas sounding surprised and impressed over Lana having immediately grasped the artifact's capabilities. “And it can strengthen the veil, too.”

Lana is quiet for a moment and shakes her head in disbelief, “That is just… it’s just so fascinating. The lives our people must have had back then…” and pauses with a look of a far-off wonderment in her eyes as she tries to picture the days of Arthalan. But soon comes back to reality and looks back up at Solas with a polite smile. “Did the Curiosity Spirit tell you where the others are?”

“No, but I did ask it to search. I will return to the Fade at some point and see what it has found.”

Lana then suddenly stops walking, and noticing her absence beside him, Solas also stops to turn around to see why. Appearing somewhat nervous as she fidgets with her fingernails, Lana looks towards Solas longingly and murmurs, “Solas. Would it be possible if I could join you?”

“Join me?” echos Solas confused.

“When you speak with the Curiosity Spirit?” explains Lana eagerly with a gentle smile. “Ever since you told me about the type of Spirits you encounter when dreaming, I find myself wanting to meet one more and more. I’ve only ever seen demons and whisps, but never the type of Spirits you meet.”

Solas’s mouth almost falls agape as he cannot believe what Lana is asking. His heart is leaping inside his chest over just the idea of being able to share his journeys with someone so open to the world of Spirits, just a piece of his world. Telling stories is one thing, but to actually bring Lana to the Fade while dreaming and meet one of his friends? To say Lana continuously surpasses his expectations would be an understatement.

Having been rendered uncharacteristically speechless for a moment, Lana snaps Solas out of his surprised expression, “Solas?”

“I - well, yes,” Solas clears his throat as he composes himself to appear more nonchalant. “If that is what you desire. But I would not let anybody know. They might get the wrong idea. Especially Cassandra.”

Lana's smile widens from excitement, “I understand. It’ll be our little secret.”

[eirenare]

Current status, my content, some FFXV talk, and contact info

So... Here we are again.

So much, just SO MUCH stuff has happened ever since I last posted here...Tumblr’s algorhythm messing up (thanks to it one of my fave finished works is hidden...), Episode Ardyn getting an anime prologue (which airs IN A BIT MORE THAN 3 HOURS *heavy sweating*), some health problems here and there (not grave ones luckily, although they’ve been annoying), Christmas, ended up with 4 Ardynoct doujinshis bought (I’d love to show you photos of the new ones and of the collection)...

And I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot ot stuff, too, however my memory is just crap. But, yeah, these last months have been kinda wild.

To be direct: I HAVEN’T left Tumblr and I’m NOT planning on leaving, even though I’ve been inactive these latest months. But, honestly, I’ve felt (I feel) so deflated and sad regarding Tumblr.

I may have gotten just one publication flagged for now (and I had one with a warning but I could send an objection and they approved it as visible), but I have this fear that if I keep posting art, be it “S4FE” or not, I’ll eventually get this account flagged as a not “S4FE” account and that it’ll be totally unaccesible except for me, therefore sending all my effort on uploading all my stuff to the trash can... Which would be plain horrible. I even fear that uploading some texts with not-so-”S4FE” stuff might send my account to that state.

So, I’m kind of doubting what should I do exactly regarding my content here.

Oh, and about THAT thread of lore topics I was planning on covering (I talked about it here: https://eirenare.tumblr.com/post/179865735922/ffxv-lore-topics-i-plan-on-covering-a-list ), just so you know I’ve been working on some of it (certain topics had to end up being mixed), and that once Episode Ardyn: Prologue is out, I’d like to continue writing it with any new info we might get, and upload it before the Episode Ardyn DLC comes out if I have time enough for it.

One of the things I’ve been writing HARD about is a theory about Ardyn, the Starscourge and the Crystal. I got, like, 4-5 pages written. Sadly I haven’t been able to finish writing it before today (although I have it fully fledged in my mind), so depending on the info we might get on Episode Ardyn: Prologue it may be rendered useless or not. I guess after the anime ends I’ll know if I can continue writing it or not.

And well, I WANT to keep uploading all the content I’ve been uploading so far, but given that Tumblr’s algorhythm does its own thing (and the fact that some time ago I read that it’s even been hiding art results because who knows why), I’m fearful... Specially when it comes to posting art.

I’ve been holding back from posting a lot of WIPs and some finished art here because of that fear, uploading it instead on my Twitter. And since I’ve been very active on Twitter (and also I have yet to know how the “wild algorhythm” works with texts), some of my theories and writing stuff has ended up there too. It doesn’t help that, if I remember well, Tumblr doesn’t quite handle correctly putting here links to other webpages (I think it made the post with the link invisible to the search engine...?).

However if Tumblr, after flagging you posts or warning about them, DOESN’T flag your Tumblr as inappropriate if you delete the flagged post (or object and get the post marked as appropriate again), or makes your Tumblr go back to being marked as appropriate if you delete the flagged post, that would be a relief... Well, that would be another thing.

So, if you wanna take a look at all that stuff while I decide what to do regarding my Tumblr content, or contact me, you can find me on Twitter as @Eirenare as well. I have an Ao3 (Archive of Our Own) account by the same name, too, and although so far I have only an Ardyn drabble posted and I haven’t been active there in a long time, I’m writing some stuff I plan on uploading there.

I’d totally love to go back to writing and posting art here, but while I take a look at info and decide stuff, just so you know, you’re welcome on Twitter!

In fact, I’ve been thinking of maybe opening up a Pillowfort when I can. Will definitely post about it here if I decide doing so.

Hopefully see you soon enough! I hope you have a good day! >_<

And for all the FFXV fans and specially Ardyn fans out there waiting for the Episode Ardyn: Prologue anime, that will air hopefully soon after the premiere at KatsuCon in a bit more than 3h: HAVE FUN AND ENJOY IT! ♥

Also can you tell I’m struggling to decide how to organize my tags damn it’s been just so long since I last posted

[lucykisaragi]

PSA

this is all under a read more cause its gonna get long.  

tdlr version is i love you guys but please, PLEASE, can you scroll through at least the couple recent posts before sending a request or ask to see if i’ve already answered a similar one??

 okay so i’m kinda getting a bit tired of repeating the same things over and over in the span of two to three days with asks, i’ve listed a guidelines on request on my rules page, i’ve listed a tldr version on the post that announced requests are open. and note mobile users, i have a link to my rules page on every render post just click the word ‘guidelines’ and it’ll redirect you to the page.. it’s on again every render post

Is it really that hard to scroll a bit on my blog and read previous asks specially recent ones to see that your question possiibly has already been answered specially if its a request?? or to see if i posted an updated WIP list that shows what i am currently working on? is it hard to click on the word ‘guidelines’ to see my rules page which has a ‘how to request’?? is it that hard to read?? no seirously, i’m asking if its that hard... i mean this has nothing to do if english is your second langauge saying that now- i have NO issue explaining things if you don’t understand or are confused due to that but in general? is it hard to read a recent previous post or ask to double check that what you wanna send to the inbox hasn’t already been asked by another person ...

i don’t mean to be rude but it gets kinda facepalming to read asks requesting things and repeating the same answers over and over and over again in a short span of time?? and by short i mean a day or two or three..  i do get some people are on mobile or new to the blog and can forget or not realize at first that theres a clickable link on my render posts to the guidelines and i dont mind answering questions but again when its the same thing multible times within a couple days in a row?? ...it’s not hard to scroll through a blog a few posts or through a blogs tags to double check if somethings already been recently asked/answered or is stated as ‘being worked on’ on a WIP (works in progress) post and on the note of fullbody PR event renders it should be known by now that i automatcily render the fullbody versions of event PR units. i’ve been doing that for the past year and a half now

i mean for example? for the SR fullbody renders, i’ve stated in a few recent asks and on the posts that announced requests are open that you need to provide a screenshot of the fullbody art of the SR units if you want them rendered, i do not save fullbody screenshots of N, R nor SR units. i’ve always stated that you need to provide a screenshot for these. i know some might go ‘why cant you just save them when you look for the PR fullbodies?’ that’s because the twitter tag is a mess as it is and if i’m looking for every unit that i havnt rendered then i’m going to miss the pr fullbodies. i mean it took me four days of looking through that tag to find rola’s fullbody PR. and some of the units are harder to find than others for PRs. l mean i couldn’t at all find a fullbody of Elza’s newest PR and eventually gave up after the cosmic stranger drop event started, i only recently got it cause someone was kind enough to share it with me. but if they didn’t do that? i probably wouldnt have access to it to render and even like hime for example i JUST found her dreaming princess PR fullbody screenshots and that? was released like a LOT of  months ago. that and sometimes people just don’t upload SR or lower fullbody screenshots or do very later due to backgrounds or what not.

and i do make WIP posts for a reason, so people can see that i have a list of stuff that i am currently working on to post, so that they can see if i’m working on something they wanted to request, ect.. like those posts are made for a reason they arn’t made as reminders for myself, i know what i need to work on.