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tathrin · 10 months

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An Elvish Lure

Somebody said “using yourself as bait” and my brain spat this disconnected snippet out, so: enjoy a scene in which the Three Hunters try an alternate plan by which to catch-up with the orcs and free Merry and Pippin.

"No," Gimli said.

"Gimli—"

"No," he said again, shaking his head hard enough to make the braids of his beard slap against his shoulders. "No, absolutely not."

"Gimli," Aragorn tried again, "this plan is our best chance to—"

"I said no!" Gimli roared. "I will not have it! Aragorn, I will not!"

It was not Aragorn who answered him. "Gimli, be calm."

Gimli squeezed his eyes shut at that voice, as though he could shut-out the words as easily as he did the sight of the narrow, beardless lips from which they had issues; that golden head; those mithril-bright eyes. Fingers as long and spindly as bare twigs closed on his shoulder, their grip tight enough that he could feel it even through his shirt of mail.

"This is our best chance to save Merry and Pippin," Legolas said. "Perhaps our only chance. Gimli, I am not afraid—"

"Can I not be afraid for you, then?" Gimli asked wildly, grabbing those long fingers and holding them tight. He looked up at Legolas, then very quickly closed his eyes again. He pressed the archer's captured hand to his cheek and held it there, as though he might hold the elf back from this reckless plan as easily. "Orcs hate elves so much, Legolas…"

"That is why it has a chance of working," Legolas said. He sounded so unbearably calm, his woodland accent giving his speech the lilting cant of birdsong. He had sounded so strange to Gimli's ears, once. When had that fair voice stopped sounding strange?

"And if it does?" Gimli retorted. His grip on Legolas's hand tightened. "When it does? What then, Legolas?"

Legolas's narrow shoulders lifted in a shrug. "Then we will fight them."

"Then you will fight them, all alone, until we can come to your aid," Gimli corrected him. "Legolas…" His voice failed him and he had to clear his throat twice before he could force the words out. "Legolas, what if we come too late?"

"It is a risk I am prepared to face," Legolas said simply. "And at any rate, Gimli, I do not believe you will. I have more faith in you and Aragorn both than to let myself fear that I will have to face all the orcs alone. And besides!" he continued with a sudden, fey laugh. "Should it not be the orcs who should fear to face my blade and bow? I slew many of their fellows at Amon Hen, and I will slay many more in these sweet green fields if they will but do me the favor of coming within range of my arrows!"

Gimli looked up at the laughing elf in sad, silent horror.

"We will not have to hide ourselves so far away from Legolas that he will be alone for long," Aragorn said, stepping forward to lay his hand on Gimli's other shoulder, the one that did not burn yet with the memory of Legolas's touch upon his mail. "Orcs are keen of smell, but their eyes are not so sharp in daylight, and their ears will have a hard time hearing anything over the thunder of their own feet upon these plains. Besides, Gimli, we have the cloaks given us by the Lady of Lórien; was it not said that they would help to hide us from unfriendly eyes?"

"It was," Gimli agreed heavily. "But these orcs are fast. And what if they have archers among them?"

"What of it?" Legolas shrugged again, scoffing. "I do not fear crude orcish arrows."

"A crude arrow can kill as readily as a finely-wrought one," Gimli reminded him.

Legolas tossed his head, his golden braids rippling in the dawn. "Only if they strike their target."

Gimli gaped at him in exasperation. "Legolas—"

"No, Gimli, I do not ask you to like this plan, but please. Are we not friends now?" Legolas dropped abruptly to his knees in the soft grass, a position which put his eyes nearly on the same level as the dwarf's. It was Legolas who looked up at him now, his pale eyes glittering as sharply as a sword. "Then please, my friend, cast aside your doubts. Trust me to do this."

"I do trust you, Legolas," Gimli responded automatically. "I do not doubt you. But—"

"Then it is settled." Legolas made to stand, to turn away, but Gimli caught him by the arm and held him still.

"But," Gimli said, his voice a stony growl, "I do not like the idea of you making yourself bait for orcs."

Legolas swiveled on his heels, elvish grace keeping him upright despite the sharp tug of a strong dwarven arm yanking him off balance, and stared up at Gimli. The smile he gave the dwarf was small and fleeting, and there was a heavy sadness in the curve of it that reminded Gimli, suddenly and painfully, of the grey woods of Lothlórien.

"I do not say that I like it either, Gimli," Legolas said softly. "But we cannot outrun the orcs. If they cannot be made to pause their march, they will vanish into Isengard with Merry and Pippin and all chance of saving our friends will be lost." He pressed his free hand to Gimli's cheek and gently stroked the downy hairs there. "I would risk a thousand such dangers for the chance to stop that foul fate from befalling those dear young Hobbits—and I know you would, too, Gimli."

Gimli swallowed, but the aching lump in his throat did not dissipate. "Legolas…"

"The fact that the orcs left the field of battle while the three of us yet lived worries my heart greatly," Aragorn said. His voice, too, was quiet, but a dark tension thrummed through his words like the warning rumble of stone on the brink of a cave-in. "That they put their need to carry away their captives over their desire for slaughter and torment…that worries me, Gimli. Worries me greatly."

Aragorn did not have the keen eyes of the elves, but his sharp grey gaze rose over the plains nonetheless and he stared off into the distance as though staring at the shadows of that terrible band of orcs nonetheless. "I do not know if even this will cause them to turn aside from their path…but if anything will entice them to delay their task, it will be the chance to make sport of a lone and injured elf."

"And so I shall play the bait," Legolas said, before he sprang to his feet, the movement too fast this time for Gimli to stop. He looked down and offered Gimli a fleeting, knifblade smile and declared, "And we Three Hunters will see if we can draw the hunt to us!"

Gimli should have cheered; the words were spoken in the sort of tone that rallied hearts and lifted spirits blazing into battle. But all Gimli could see in his mind was the terrible sight of Legolas left standing all alone, waiting for the orcs to come and find him while his friends hid and watched from safety.

"Legolas…"

"Peace." Elvish fingers pressed against Gimli's lips, stopping his words but not his fears. "Give me this chance, Gimli, and I will turn your doubts aside."

"I do not doubt you—" Gimli started to say again, his voice thick and strangled with the heavy feelings of his heart, but Legolas was already springing away, up the short and stony hillock. Gimli watched him go, his steps as light and swift as the flutter of butterfly wings.

"I do not doubt you, Legolas," he said, the words spoken now in a whisper so low that even elvish ears might struggle to hear them now. "But I fear for you."

Aragorn's hand closed on his shoulder again, warm and steady and lacking the silver-fire touch of Legolas's smooth brown skin. "Come," he said softly. "Let us get under cover, Gimli."

Gimli allowed himself to be drawn away, but his feet scuffed heavily on the uneven grass as he turned to stare behind him at the silhouette of Legolas standing tall and thin against the dawn, pale cloak and golden hair streaming out behind him. He made a fine target for arches up there, Gimli thought sourly; a fine target indeed.

Legolas drew his white knife, and Gimli turned away. He knew that the scent of elvish blood would be needed to draw the orcs' attention; knew further that only with the wind blowing strong and swift towards their quarry did this mad plan have any chance of success, and so he cursed the breeze. Had it only died or shifted, Aragorn and Legolas would have been forced to give up this chance; would have had no choice but to simply run instead, run until they dropped perhaps and even yet fail—but run together, rather than risking Legolas's life alone.

Gimli could not bear to watch Legolas take his blade to his own arm, spill his own blood, to lend verisimilitude to his role as bait; yet he fancied he could hear the sharp glide of knife over skin nonetheless, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight and let Aragorn lead him, stumbling, to the hollow in which they would hide together while Legolas stood out there, tempting danger, alone.

They huddled in their grey cloaks, hands on weapons and breath in their throats, and waited.

And then—and then Legolas screamed.

Gimli started upright, his own breath drawing in for an answering cry of rage and vengeance, but Aragorn grabbed his arms and held him fast. "No, Gimli!" he hissed, hauling the dwarf down bodily back into the small depression in the earth. "No, he is not hurt. This is the lure, Gimli! This is the plan. Be still!"

Gimli let himself be drawn back despite the thundering of his heart against his ribs. He pressed one bare palm against the earth, trying to draw strength from the touch of stone against his skin; trying to find the endurance for which the dwarves were so renowned. But he could not stop trembling; could not stop hearing the echoes of that terrible shrill scream inside his ears.

"I have never heard such a cry, Aragorn," he whispered.

Aragorn's grip on his arm tightened. "I have," he said. His voice was low, almost haunted in the shadows of their hiding-hole. "I am sure Legolas has as well, for his people have long fought the Shadow in Mirkwood—and," Aragorn added, swallowing hard as though against some terrible memory, "he could not have sounded so convincing, if he did not know the sound of an elf in torment."

Gimli's gut twisted and he bit his lip hard enough that he tasted a coppery spill of blood across his tongue. "I would that he did not know it," Gimli said hoarsely. He glared up at Aragorn and added in a sharp voice, "I would even more that he should never experience it himself."

"We are not far," Aragorn insisted. "If the orcs take the bait, we will know it; we are near enough to help. He will not stand alone."

"Not for long," Gimli muttered, "but perhaps for long enough." He held his axe very tightly and wished for a whole host of doughty dwarven warriors at his side—or better, at Legolas's side.

Another cry rose, more warbling than the first piercing shriek; more plaintive, like the screamer was weakening.

Gimli's grip on the haft of his axe tightened until his hand ached. "Aragorn…"

"He is not hurt, Gimli."

"Not yet."

Aragorn had no answer for that.

They sat in silence, straining their ears for the pounding thunder of orcish feet upon the earth; waiting to discover if the enemy would take the bait.

Waiting to learn if the three of them would live through it, if they did.

{read more gimleaf stories here}

#gimli #legolas #aragorn #three hunters #lotr #lotr fanfiction #gigolas #gimleaf #well unrealized gimleaf at the moment i suppose #could certainly be read platonically #but that's one of the joys of their relationship anyway: no matter the particular flavor the love never falters #they're every bit as devoted and delighted by one another whether there's a whiff of romance there or not #and i love that about them because there aren't many relationships you can say absolutely do not CHANGE based on whether it's romantic or no #even the ones that start as friendships and stay as friendships still tend to change somewhat if there's romance (or if there isn't)#but not legolas and gimli #you don't even need to decide which it is when you start writing a story with them because you're writing the same story either way #''you comfort me'' indeed #this ship sails itself all the way to valinor #my writing #my stuff

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bongo-clash · 2 years

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I Wonder if I Would Delete You

Ectober week prompts: Forest He thinks about the corpse in the woods sometimes. Hard to forget where you are buried.

'Valerie Gray finds out that the resident ghost kid was never buried beneath a grave. Valerie Gray finds out that there’s a body in the woods.'

(Content warnings in tags || fic under cut!!)

Valerie remembers, very vaguely, the look on Sam and Tucker’s face on the first day of highschool.

They usually had a third kid with them, she knew. Danny. She’d seen the briefest glimpse of his face in the newspaper near the end of the holidays, the offhand worry of her father when he brought it up once and never again. Nothing substantial, just ‘You know the Fenton’s youngest? Danny, I think his name was, in your year. Apparently he went missing on Tuesday and they haven’t found a sign of him since.’. He slipped through the cracks of freshman year, and the ones who’d known him since elementary school noticed (Dash, in particular, had whined at the absence of his favourite punching bag, made a face at the news, and stopped talking about it when he didn’t show up after a few days), but very few others did.

He was just one of those kids who’d never really made much of an effort to cross anyone’s radar beyond his limited social circle. He just wasn’t someone who’d made themselves all that memorable, after all, plenty of kids from middle school weren’t going to Casper High; for all that it felt weird not to see them anymore, there wasn’t much to dwell on.

His parents (the only thing he’d really been known for), though they were unnaturally quiet for the first few weeks, soon fell back into their obsession. His sister was still hoping he’d turn up again, but she was also a budding psychologist, and it was clear she was trying not to let it impede her when there was nothing she could do. It was just… such a non-issue for everyone else, in the end, even if no one knew why he went missing. (Even if Sam and Tucker sometimes made faces at each other, like they had something to say but couldn’t share it.)

It was all the more easy to forget when ghosts started showing up in Amity Park. Many regularly, one constant: Phantom.

Valerie hates his guts more than anything else, if she had to pick. Even if no one really got hurt in the fights, property damage skyrocketed, their day-to-day became chaos, and especially at first, everyone was scared. When the ghost kid ruined her life, hatred bloomed like hogweed in her chest, but the people in her class loved him. A mysterious superhero, with cool powers, flying around town every day and every night to fight off creatures from another dimension in a weird, glowing costume? It was like something out of a comic book, of course they loved it, but all she could think about was how much collateral was left in the wake, the image of that ghost and his stupid dog tearing through her life and leaving nothing but fragment pieces behind, spilt like a stain in her memory. Green, ugly, and hard to wash out. It was only natural that she took up the opportunity to get revenge when it found her, even if she didn’t trust Masters as far as she could throw him.

This is all to say: the last two years of her life have been busy. It’s a hard wire to walk on- between staying afloat enough to pass her classes, keeping up with her job to help her dad, trying to keep violent ghosts from invading the town and desperately trying to get people to see that the worst one of them all is the one that keeps attempting to earn their trust- she barely has time for anything else. Sometimes, she even lets Phantom deal with the ghosts if they’re pathetic enough, because she’s sure he’s playing the long game with them but it’s been a long game, and she really does need to keep living her life. She’s a junior, now; she’ll be seventeen in the new year, and her dad’s so excited to teach her how to drive. She’s not going to let the world stop turning for a couple of ghosts.

It’s one of those days, though, where she figures Phantom’s been flying around for a bit too long, and it’s time for an intervention. Can’t let him get too confident in his welcome. So, she’s suited up and following his signature with a tracker, listening as the thing ticks like a Geiger counter to signify the proximity, scanning the horizon for a familiar glowing silhouette and keeping her ectogun clasped in one hand, ready to shoot first and never ask.

Over the course of her flight, she finds herself much further from the centre of town than the ghost is usually spotted, but his signature is lit up green on her scanner, and it’s not moved once. By the time his figure comes into view, she’s barely in Amity’s borders at all, hovering on the cusp of thick woodlands and wild, uncut grass on its edges.

She spots a complicated look on his face as she lands. Valerie doesn’t know who he’s pretending for.

“What are you doing here, ghost?”

Phantom doesn’t dignify her with a face-to-face conversation. His head tilts like he’s trying to look at her without eyes, and his hands lift to protect his chest even though she’s facing his back; if she had to try and describe his posture, it would be ‘troubled’. Still, though, she can’t forget this is a ghost. Hard to with the glow and the slight transparency and the unnatural white shade of his hair, but still, the thing she’s talking to here isn’t a person no matter how much his figure suggests it.

His shoulders keep making weird shrugging motions, half failing on the way down and sometimes jerking backwards, and she thinks he’s trying to figure out how people breathe. “Hi, Red.” He says, something imitating a sigh, and his behaviour is as unusual as it is fascinating, but he’s deflecting and she won’t have it.

“Answer the question.”

“I- it’s nothing you’d find interesting. I’m not gonna do anything.”

Her eyes narrow with suspicion, hold on her ecto-gun tightening near the trigger. “And I’m supposed to just believe that? Let me guess: that dog ripping my house apart was you ‘doing nothing’ too.”

“No!” He retorts, finally turning around, eyes wide. His hands are twitching at his side, half-trembling, and the underneaths of his nuclear-waste eyes are oddly shadowed- as if ghosts can even sleep, let alone get tired. “No, that wasn’t nothing, and I’ve been sorry about that ever since it happened, but I- this isn’t about that. This isn’t about anything- it’s just… complicated. And not your business.”

Well, that’s not worrying at all. She doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve by spouting such ridiculous crap, but she’s not picking it up regardless. “What are you doing, Phantom.” It’s not a question.

“I just said-“

“That was not an answer.” Valerie snaps, lifting up the nozzle of the ectoweapon from the ghost’s torso to point right between his eyes. “You know I won’t hesitate to pull this trigger, Phantom; you know I’ll tear you apart. Tell me what you’re doing.”

The part of her that’s read all of the Fentons’ academic papers knows ghosts don’t feel real emotions, knows any features can be manipulated to their liking for whatever ridiculous goal they’ve set their sights on. The part of her that picks at her old bleeding heart twinges at the look on Phantom’s face, no matter how superficial. The shadows under his eyes look like bruises in this light. Tired, tired, tired.

He sighs: a thing he has no need for and probably only does to make himself seem more human. “You really want to know?” He responds, turning around once again so he doesn’t have to look her in the eyes. Stupid, too, considering he’s turning his back to the gun. “Fine. Follow me, then.”

She doesn’t deign to give him an answer, but he seems to interpret the silence as one either way. He goes forward into the thick, and before he can disappear, she follows.

The ghost isn’t floating, is the first thing she notices.

It’s their natural instinct, she’s sure; half of them probably don’t even remember how to walk, with all the time they spend up in the air or drifting about in whatever version of Hell they come from. But Phantom walks now like his feet are tethered to the ground, forced into it with something deeper than gravity. For all that he usually never shuts up, he doesn’t say a word. It seems he doesn’t even notice she’s still aiming a blaster at the back of his head, doesn’t even care.

Time passes between steps. Slowly, as if the further they walk the deeper into space they go, the sunlight overhead is shut away by canopy cover. Oak and ashwood trees disperse themselves along a nonexistent path, roots hidden beneath the browns of old leaf litter and dirt, an imitation of tripwires as Valerie tries not to catch her feet on something. The forest is too dense for her hoverboard. She’d crash into all the low-branches if she tried. Grounded as he is, though, Phantom doesn’t trip once; there’s got to be a reason he has the route memorised, if he’s not just leading her in circles, but she’s never caught him around this area before. Is this where he goes after fights?

An artificial night surrounds them by the time Phantom begins to slow down, stars in the form of microscopic sunspots and the vague shine of lichens. It comes through something silver in the place they’d stopped- just underneath an oak’s armspan. Old leaf litter covers what looks like a molehill.

Phantom sits down, but she doesn’t bother to do the same, too wary. “What is this?” She questions. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll told you I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He says, posture hunched over. “I just wanted to… y’know, sit for a bit.”

Yeah, not buying it. She rounds his figure, not quite putting herself in his direct line of sight, but enough that they can both see each other’s front, and enough that she can gauge his expression, for as little as that counts for.

…Maybe a little more than she bargained it counting for, if she’s being honest. His lips are pinched to a downward-curving line, like he’s trying to hide the shape by pursing them but failing. His knees are pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around and gripping each other like a lifeline, jumpsuit creasing oddly around them for all that it shouldn’t, with ghost fabrics not adhering to normal physics. The eyes are worst of all, though. Seeming duller, somehow- less green and more turquoise, maybe- shining with something Valerie can’t parse and doesn’t like. Something familiar on an unrecognisable face, settled onto the slight bump in the dirt.

There’s a direction her brain his heading to in its conclusion, because this is a ghost looking far too intensely at raised ground, and really, there’s only so many conclusions she can reach, no matter how much she hates it.

It’s rude to ask, she knows. She lets it slip anyway. “Phantom,” She starts, oddly absent of her usual barbs past the dread. “What’s under there?”

His gaze flicks briefly towards her, shoulders tightened and wary of the questioning. She’s never seen him this closed off before. “You don’t wanna know.”

“Tell me.”

“Idon’t want you to know.”

“Phantom.”

Phantom’s expression is awful, awful, awful. “I died two years ago.” He says, voice devoid. “No one’s found me yet.”

Oh.

Oh God.

This is still in Amity Park borders. It’s on the cusp, near the edge, but this is still Amity. This is about a thirty minute walk from the other end of Casper High; if you turned left from where she’s standing and kept going, you could probably come out the other side near the Nasty Burger, its back some distance to all the trees. This is Amity Park, and she’s been living in its vicinity all her life, and there’s a body in the woods and no one knows it’s here.

Briefly, her mind brings forth the image of something beneath the soil, and she closes her mouth around the bile it sends careening up her throat. She doesn’t know what Phantom might have looked like before he died, but she’s certain that if she tried to look, all she’d find would be bones. It’s been more than long enough for the rot to set in and run its course, anything more than that melted away and chewed through by whatever insects buried themselves with him in the decay. She feels like the smell of something foul is caught in her nose now that she knows what she’s practically standing on. She wonders if he’s buried shallow. Guesses at the answer lying idle in the turned soil.

He takes in her speechlessness with a strange mix of fear and exhaustion. “Red? You still in there?”

“You- I- two years ago?” And it’s not like her, but she can’t help it. There’s nothing she can say in the face of this, nothing she can feel beyond the roiling wave of nausea and catatonic shock. They looked about the same age when she started out, and he died two years ago. He looks younger than her now.

“I’d be sixteen this year.” He says, helpfully, as if that makes anything easier. She got her provisional driver’s license in the mail a few months ago and she’ll be old enough to take lessons next year, and he’d be doing the same thing as she is around now but he’s dead. He’s dead and she’s not heard a thing about a kid dying in the last few years. He’s dead and buried shallow.

There’s not many other conclusions to reach. She’s not sure how it’s never crossed her mind before now, but for the first time in two years, Valerie wonders who Phantom used to be. Wonders what he did to get murdered in secret.

Wonders if who (or what) did it is still around.

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umbracirrus · 7 days

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WIP Wednesday! 💛

Rather than trying to work on where I am currently at in The Perfect Storm, I am instead working on things which fall further down the line!! Let's just say that there is a fanfiction trope which I absolutely adore, and I will be using it for Elyse and Balgruuf hehehe... It's been something I have had planned out from almost the very beginning!!

Tagging people on this for the first time in a while! And I am tagging the ever lovely @thequeenofthewinter and @pitiable-arisen and anyone else who wishes to share a WIP, though obviously don't feel obligated to do so 💛😊

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Balgruuf exhaled and ran his hands down his face as he finally sat down at his desk. He had most certainly never expected the meeting to end with that consensus, but if it got both the Empire and the Stormcloaks to stop breathing down his neck about allegiances... It surely had to be worth it. At the same time, he was incredibly relieved that they hadn’t settled on Elyse’s suggestion. Just because it had worked once did not mean that it would work again. There was something about that idea which made his stomach churn and his blood run cold – he didn’t like it in the slightest.

“Um... Now that everyone else has gone...” Elyse whispered from where she was sat, looking nervous as she fidgeted with her fingers. “How do you honestly feel about this plan?”

He looked at her for a moment, before pursing his lips together and folding his arms over. “I would probably have to admit that I am uncertain. I do not know what to think about it, even if the logic is sound.”

For a moment, she was quiet, then nodded. “That’s understandable...” She then let out her breath, and closed her eyes. “I’m scared.”

“You’re-? Elyse, why are you scared?” He rose from his seat and moved to the other one at the opposite side of his desk, the one which was beside her. “You know that we do not have to-“

“I- I think it’s because I don’t know what to expect and it goes against how I usually try to handle things. This isn’t just politics, it’s politics mixed in with... all sorts. And this doesn’t just impact the two of us, it will have an impact on everyone around us.” She inhaled, her body trembling slightly. “Plus you know that I- That I like to handle problems on my own, if I can... But it’s not an option this time. This isn't just something that affects me.”

Her eyes widened and body grew stiff for a moment when he reached out and clasped her hands within his. “We will get through this, Elyse. Together.”

#meg has done some writing #dragonborn oc elyse #fic - the perfect storm #balgruuf x dragonborn #skyrim fanfiction #tes v fanfiction #I'm genuinely really excited for when it reaches this part of the fic hehe. It's still some distance away for the sake of slow burn though!#it was between posting this and another future part which I wrote this week based around when these two idiots finally get engaged #but I think I'll save that for a later point to share because I've not decided if that part is going to get a lil' bit steamy yet :)

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bethanyactually · 2 months

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Fic Aesthetic: it’ll hurt like a mother when your foot comes out by @catty-words

“Strange day,” Bess says, also staring after their friends. “First, your girlfriend whips our place of business into a frenzy, then we’re researching species of kelp, and now we’re on a casual, three-mile, oceanside jaunt.” “You live for days like today,” Ace replies.

#nancy drew fic rec #fanfiction aesthetic #catty words #bethanyactuallyedit #there are hints of fanson and nace in this and a bit of Wraith-era angst but primarily it's all about the Drew Crew friendship feeeeels #this fic is close to my heart bc corissa wrote it at my house while visiting me & kelsey and it's based loosely on an actual hike we went o #fun fact: two of the photos are ones that I took that day

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kessielrg · 1 year

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the idea that X is the only Reploid that can cry is an interesting plot point actually...

“No one was supposed to get hurt.” they said. “The shock bomb was meant to disable the Reploid so we could address our concerns. We didn’t expect a human to-”

“Care?”

The simple word made the human take a step back. Their dumbfounded confusion only boiled X’s blood further.

“You didn’t expect a human to care.” he reiterated with a lot more force. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”

“I-“ they fumbled. “I…”

What finally got them to stop babbling was when they saw something glistening at the corner of X’s eye. That single drop formed and fell down his cheek so naturally, that the human was dead awestruck.

“You’re crying.”

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orcelito · 5 months

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Also remembering that I get to write wolfwood next chapter and I'm a widdle nervous bc this is a Big Moment and I only wrote him a little bit with Sentido and it's been 8 months since then

But im also REALLY excited bc I get to finally (FINALLY) start executing the vashwood concepts I'd thought up at the damned START of this fic

So much relationship development to get to. So much Wolfwood to get to. Very exciting things.

#speculation nation #itnl shit #ive got a pretty solid grasp on wolfwood I Think but also #i think i wanna do some more research into him before i write hin #im gonna need to read more of the manga Anyways.#i need to study his mannerisms and speech patterns and the ways he interacts with the world #because i have a good idea of it already but a lot of my concept of him does exist in fanon #because it's been A Bit since ive actually read the manga.#and i never want to base my writing off of fanon. never ever ever. that's fatal writing error number One.#i pride myself on my rock solid characterizations. for side characters it doesnt matter as much #but the 2nd person in the main pairing? ostensibly the 2nd most important character to the fic?#yeah im not gonna fuckin base him off of what i have in my mind from however much fanfiction.#it's like the difference between accuracy and precision. by following fanon characterizations #someone might be able to be Precise about his characterization. in that they write him consistently and according to common perception.#but fanon very often exists Just to the left of what canon actually is. so it may be precise but not accurate #at least with regard to canon characterizations.#i want my characterization to be both precise And accurate. i want people to read my fic and go 'yeah thats trimax wolfwood'#with vash i do sprinkle in a few of my favorite things from the other versions too. same with the girls.#and maybe i'll do that a bit with wolfwood. but also hes so very different between the 3 iterations #that he might as well be different characters in all of them.#this is first and foremost a trimax fic. so i WILL have trimax wolfwood in it.#i may look up general guides for writing him if theyre around. but tbh i will rely more on my own research probably.#i have my own system for writing anyways. the sliding scales of different qualities that guides my general word choices for dialog #ive explained it before. dont really wanna get into it again.#i need to solidify in my mind where ww exists on the axes of intelligence politeness kindness and formality #among others. while also paying attention for any kind of repeat words or phrases that he likes to use #that i can pepper in to make it Sound Like Him.#thats the key to how i do general dialog lol. it's of course guided by who they are as a person #but word choice is done through the general perception of them along a set of axes. this is how it goes for All my writing.#im. rambling. whoops. anyways im excited for wolfwood. Soon...

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iheartmoons · 1 year

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alrighttt so what pairing do i do next for the "you're losing me" fic!!

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waywardsalt · 25 days

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so. i've had an idea for a warrior cats fanfiction story, and have spent the last few years hammering out characters, the clans, how they work, the story... a whole lot of stuff. i've tried writing it before, and right now i don't have a current draft of early chapters, but I did recently write out a scene from much later in the story, and i'm pretty happy with it, soooo... here! a warrior cats fic scene i wrote in like an hour a week ago

By the time she led ShadeClan to the Gathering site, Emberstar felt her anxieties lessen. Her foreleg ached from the effort of the journey, but she kept her head high. Beside her, Acornfall glanced back at their clan, then nodded over to Emberstar. He led the clan down into the Gathering hollow, and Emberstar padded over to the slope up to the leader’s perch. PineClan and CliffClan cats were already quietly milling about in the hollow, and up on the overhang she could see Lakestar and Wolfstar waiting. There was no MoorClan scent among the gathered cats.

Emberstar made her way up the slope she’d seen Gorsestar and Froststar before her traverse. It was a thin path, slowly becoming steeper and steeper as she slunk closer to the overhang, finally reaching the steep, gravelly slope that led up to the leaders’ perch. Down at the base of the cliff, she could see Acornfall joining the other deputies with a polite nod of his head, and Troutfoot was carefully weaving her way through the crowd to meet with the other healers. Emberstar twitched her whiskers when Lakestar and Wolfstar noticed her. She crouched and tensed her back legs and leapt up the slope.

It wasn’t enough to reach the top, but she reached out with her forepaw and sunk her claws into the loose gravel and dug her back paws into the ground to keep from slithering back down. She slowly inched forward, moving a kittenstep at a time, but she kept her eyes fixed on the other leaders, more determined than ashamed of herself. Emberstar forced herself up the slope, but her heart skipped a beat when the gravel under her paw proved too loose to get a good enough grip- so close to the top, too. What a shame she had no other forepaw to lash out and find a grip with.

Emberstar felt herself begin to slide back down the slope, but a pair of jaws grasped her by the scruff and hoisted her up onto the overhang. She clawed at the grass and stumbled a step when let go and turned to meet Wolfstar’s amused gaze. “Careful there, three-paw,” the CliffClan leader gruffly purred. “It’s bad luck to fall at your first Gathering as leader.” She brushed past Emberstar to sit back down next to Lakestar.

With a huff, Emberstar followed her with a shake of her pelt. “I appreciate your help, but I would have been fine on my own. I suppose I owe you now?”

Wolfstar’s whiskers twitched. “Are you saying ShadeClan is now in CliffClan’s debt?”

The young leaders stared at each other, then broke out into amused purrs. Lakestar rolled her eyes and wrapped her tail around her paws. “So, you are ShadeClan’s leader now, Emberstar? Or is it still Emberblaze?”

“It is Emberstar now. I visited the Moon Cavern for my lives only a few sunrises ago.”

“May StarClan light your path as leader, then.” Lakestar stiffly dipped her head. Despite the brusque words, there was genuine respect in her pale eyes.

Wolfstar’s own eyes were still bright with humor. “You’ll be great, I know it. What happened to Froststar, then?”

Emberstar narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze to the gathered cats. “I’ll explain that once the Gathering begins. MoorClan is late tonight.” She surveyed the crowd of cats, peering straight down at the huddled healers. Sitting with her back to her PineClan clanmates, Flarelight was sitting close to Troutfrost. After a moment, she gazed up at the overhang, and her eyes met Emberstar’s. Her eyes grew wide and she stared at her littermate for a long moment until another healer got her attention. Then, as if she’d seen nothing, Flarelight flicked her tail and joined the conversation. Her twitching tail-tip was the only hint that she was distracted. Emberstar blinked. She’d become leader so recently that not even the other healers knew, much less the other clans’ warriors. In the crowd of CliffClan cats, she spotted Sunscorch, sitting with his fur brushing Moonwhisper’s, his eyes wide and his body stiff while he stared at his sister up on the overhang.

Poor Sunscorch, so softhearted under those honed claws and strong limbs- he was likely to take the news of Froststar’s death the hardest. Emberstar held his gaze, blinked slowly, and turned her head to the sky. The moon was nearly overhead, and still MoorClan was absent.

“You ought to start the Gathering now,” Wolfstar growled to Lakestar. “It’s newleaf, after all, and if MoorClan’s late then they’re late.”

“We should wait,” Emberstar sharply mewed. “This is my first Gathering as leader, so it would be disrespectful to me as well as MoorClan if we begin without them. It may anger StarClan as well,” she finished in a murmur, flicking her tail-tip up at the sky. Wolfstar just bushed out her stormy gray fur and huffed.

Lakestar gazed up at the sky. Emberstar looked over at her. For so long, as an apprentice, as a warrior, as the deputy, she’d never dared to be so close to the cold PineClan leader. But now, she was barely a tail-length from the sleek silver tabby, and they sat as equals in standing. Lakestar was likely at less than nine lives and Emberstar was without a right foreleg, but they were equals nonetheless.

She was knocked from her thoughts by Wolfstar headbutting her. The larger cat nearly shoved her off-balance. “Glad to see that we’re both finally up here. I was waiting to see when you’d catch up, three-paw.”

Emberstar licked Wolfstar’s ear. “You know I must take things slower than you.”

“Who’d you pick as deputy?” Wolfstar leaned over the edge to inspect the group of deputies. “Hm- Acornfall?”

“He’s a good warrior. Older than me by four seasons, so I trust his advice and his skill.”

“I thought you would have picked Lavenderflash. Or maybe Darknose, you two always seemed close.”

Emberstar gazed down at Lavenderflash, spotting the pure-black molly quickly- she was almost certain there was obvious fondness in her eyes as she looked at her former apprentice. “Lavenderflash is… young and still training her first apprentice. She is a good, loyal warrior, but not fit to be deputy or eventual leader in my mind. And Darknose…” The tom was sitting at the edge of the crowd, alone. “He is a possibility, but he still mourns his brother even all these moons later, so I don’t know if he would be the best choice.”

Wolfstar made a sniff of approval, then her gaze snapped to the far hill. A yowl rang out, and the three leaders pricked their ears and the cats in the hollow turned to see MoorClan finally arrive, led by Applestar. Emberstar sat stiffly until she spotted Glowflame in the crowd, side-by-side with Orangeclaw. He joined the cats in the hollow with his clan while Applestar broke off to climb up to the overhang, and he seemed to murmur something to Orangeclaw before she angled her ears up at Emberstar. Glowflame looked up and spotted her, and his jaw dropped open. Emberstar couldn’t help but let out a purr of affection for her brother as he gaped in amazement at her.

Applestar greeted the other leaders when he finally joined them, nodding briefly at Emberstar, and hurriedly sat down next to Lakestar, his mottled fur standing up along his spine. The leaders gave the cats in the hollow a few moments to settle down. In that time, Emberstar saw her littermates make their ways through the crowd towards each other. By the time Lakestar threw back her head and yowled to signify the beginning of the Gathering, Flarelight, Sunscorch, and Glowflame sat huddled together with their eyes trained on their sister. Emberstar met their gazes for just a heartbeat and felt the final icicles of her anxiety melt away.

She then turned her head to watch Lakestar as she began to announce her clan’s news for the moon, and reminded herself of what she had to announce when it was her turn. She was ShadeClan’s leader, now. StarClan had approved of her. Emberstar lifted her chin and, with a deep breath, finally settled into her place at the head of her clan.

#woe warrior cats fanfiction be upon ye #my writing #fanfiction #warrior cats #hmmm...#waywardsalt's warrior cats #yeahhhh #anyways a few things abt this related specifically to whats in here #emberstar and wolfstar are not in any kind of relationship theyre just longtime friends n rivals tho at some point wolfstar had a crush #emberstar is meant to be aro/ace and otherwise has no interest in taking a mate at all but she loves her clanmates #glowflame and orangeclaw are mates and sunscorch and moonwhisper are mates idk if flarelight will be in a relationship #the map for this fic (clan territories and camp layouts and moon cavern/gathering spot) is based on a minecraft world i have its v helpful #i have a full alliances list for the living cats at the very beginning of the story but it lacks cats outside the clan bc uhhhh i dont #think there are too many that are present that early and also loners arent usually a big thing its mostly cats passing through #emberstar is mostly dark ginger and black flarelight is mostly just dark ginger sunscorch is gold/yellow and glowflame is yellow and white #all four of them have ice blue eyes and black ear tips i am getting funky with cat designs i do not care. they have teh most unique designs #calling med cats healers bc of. reasons you may know why. and she cats are mollies bc like. why not #emberstar is a tripod cat she is missing a foreleg and she is the primary primary protag she is the most frequent pov #so i have thought a lot abt how she would need to be trained and assessed differently and what she cannot do and how she does warrior dutie #ember flare sun and glow all grew up together but separated into the different clans for Reasons ember stayed in shadeclan bc she was deput #it was also for those Reasons but dw abt it. sunscorch is gay glowflame is bi flarelight is a lesbian #gorsestar and froststar (the previous shadeclan leaders emberstar thinks of) were both mollies and were mates. frost mentored emberstar #its a little bit of nepotism but ember was frost's like. third deputy so its whatever. i picked acornfall as deputy as a placeholder #and bc i couldnt fucking remember anyone else except nobodies in shadeclan but now that i think about it he's actually a good choice #aaaand emberstar is my oldest warrior cats rp character shes been with me a long time- second oldest is sunscorch #emberstar began as emberheart and sunscorch was an edgy murder rogue named sun i roleplayed them in a specific mc server

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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 8 months

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any chance we'll get an update to the first step of kintsugi soon?

To be entirely honest I have no idea.

It’s not abandoned, to be clear, and it’s going to be finished. I just haven’t cared all that much about marvel in a hot minute, and writings like pulling fingernails when I’m not interested in the material. I’ve also noticed that it tends to make for some of my more poorly written chapters.

That being said, hyperfixation happens on the turn of a dime for me. It could be a week; it could be a month. I don’t really know. It will come though! I really love kintsugi and have no intentions of abandoning it.

#I do have to reread it before I update too #i change my style based on who’s narrating and that’s one of the reasons why updates fall off when I lose interest #it’s hard to maintain the characters inner voice #overall fanfiction is my ‘fun’ writing where I let myself cut corners and experiment so I am just very unserious about it overall #for my original works I make myself stick to projects a bit more and build writing stamina but im kinda here for a good time #I have decided to make myself finish up more works before I succumb to any new ones tho #tho those are probably gonna be toy rosaries and pez dispenser debris #that’s not to say that kintsugi or nhthcth will be neglected they’re just so much longer than the other two #my nhthcth are very long suffering they know that I will disappear into anime bog and return six months later with like seven updates #and there’s no in between #I am how I am

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mittenlady · 10 months

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25k posted; est. 100k+ when finished | a canon compliant (or as compliant as one can get running with the assumption that these two characters knew each other prior to canonical events) slow burn in three parts consisting of klavier and simon both being rather pathetic and changing throughout their respective “seven year” spans before they reunite, now practically strangers, after dual destinies.

When Klavier spoke again, it was with a smile. “You’ll buy my albums when I’m famous, yeah? Simon?”

He looked up. He wasn’t sure why he heated up the way he did, seeing that bright-eyed smile shining his way, hearing his name fall from those lips like the chorus of a new song. He only knew that he did. “Maybe,” he said, pulling as much petulance from its syllables as he could. “As long as you’re not a one-hit wonder.”

He chuckled. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone, you know. You’re my favorite upperclassman.”

“Well, I look forward to when we reunite at the prosecutor’s office.”

“Maybe,” he said, drawing out the word with a smirk. “As long as you haven’t worked yourself to death by then.”

In which Simon Blackquill and Klavier Gavin were acquainted at Themis Legal Academy in 2017 and reacquaint in 2027 after the arrest of a brother and a release from death row.

(more details below the cut)

i’ve been working on this fic for a while and am just now getting around to making a proper post as Arc 1 is finished! i’ve been mentally separating this into three parts and will resume posting when Arc 2 (chapters 9-17) is finished.

speaking about the fic contents however, a big part of this is analyzing simon and klavier themselves (hence the “character study” tag) and also how they perceive themselves. this is paramount considering how they do not directly interact at all in the source material for a seven year stretch because simon is literally insane on death row. something something identity here.

i’ve had a lot of fun writing them! there’s so much to analyze and their interactions are honestly my favorites to write just because they both act so. strange. there is something wrong with japanifornia’s prosecutors dawg and i am invested in it.

also aura gets to be fleshed out a bit yay aura i love aura blackquill :)

as of typing this and having part of chapter 15 written (and bits and pieces of other chapters), i have around ~56k+ words. i’m estimating the finished length being a bit over 100k+.

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