Memories of blood and bone
I wanted to make a more symbolic piece focusing on a young King Thrór. He lived through the war of dwarves and dragons and also likely saw his little brother and father be slain by cold drakes. He became one of the youngest known Kings of the dwarves, and he led his people away from this carnage to resettle elsewhere. His new settlement? Erebor.
His story is one of the saddest of all dwarves in the legendarium, because ultimately he would lose everything to dragons once again.
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blueteeth popcicle
milk or cereal, sugar, cookie, milk, cereal, milk, cookie pan, cookie pan, pan, cookie man, cookie pot, pie, cookie, egg, cookie cookie, chocolate chip cookie, chocolate chip cookie man are are gross bugs you God oh no, the table broke because no money bank have bank money, steel cardboard vent repair revenant from headphones to Bluetooth, balloon head, hair, and pop.
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first lines/last fics x 10
the most wonderful @pellaaearien tagged me <3
Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.
im gonna cheat a little –– at the moment I only have four published fics/ WIPs (at least, four that survived the Great Purge when my hs deleted my school-affiliated google drive acct >:( ), so I'm gonna quietly count hounds’ latest chapter as a new thing (it may as well be with how goddamn long it’s taking me) and throw in a few starter lines from non-fandom poems/prose I’ve worked up lately :)
hounds ch. I –– There are parts of his life Hob Gadling sometimes wishes to forget.
hounds ch. XLII –– It feels too lonely, he decides, to be itinerant for the holidays –– and there is a new bounty of flora blooming between his ribs, a richness of petal-soft, fine-veined feeling, that makes him less jittery, less inclined to running.
sanctus dentes/canem dei –– “You don’t love me.”
l’enfer, le ciel –– April in Paris, 1934.
tidings of comfort and joy –– “Perfect weather for a ride,” says Squire Teleute de Morte Endelēas.
and here’s the non-fandom stuff <3
our lady of august –– August of ‘92 is like living in the mouth of a dog.
the saint of the mouth and the 32 teeth –– And on the 1st day, my Lord-God furnished his mouth-saint / with the fruit-cutters, the castanets and rabbit-chatterers, / and he speaketh thus ––
hagiography of st. mawr –– Arise, you cant’ring colt –– you foam-mouthed maw, / bedecked in jockey’s blood.
james dean –– You Speedster slugger, ye of turned-up collar, eyes / retaining stares all soft and swoony –– pass the crown / –– or sanguine jacket –– like a sainted relic down / for us, not quite so suave (misangled grins) our guise / a touch disjoint.
shame and country hunting –– Oh my chosen pillar, I loved and love you like a dog, / all fine incisors.
tagging the homies, the loves, the lights of souls!! as ever, not a jot of obligation –– we are neighbors in an indie coming-of-age film where our bedroom windows face each other and this is a wave from my window to yours @fishfingersandscarves, @dancinbutterfly, @wordsinhaled, @menthol-drops, @wizardofgoodfortune, @ghostboyjules, @moorishflower, @aberfaeth, @teejaystumbles, @mandolinearts <3 <3 <3
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*Hellsing at the zoo*
Seras: Oh look! A big kitty!
*Tiger growling loudly*
Pip: I don't speak homicidal hairball, but I think shir khan is telling you politely to fuck off, honey!
Integra: At least nobody tries petting that thing.
*Silence*
Integra: Wait- Where is TJ?
Alucard: Oh no...
Alucard: GET OUT OF THAT TIGER ENCLOSURE, TJ! GET YOUR ASS BACK!
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