#wip. love lies bleeding

[lena-rambles]

writeblr intro //

hi, i'm lena! i've been on tumblr since 2019, mostly in fandom spaces. i had a writeblr a few years ago, but it didn't last long — so here i am again, with a new blog for my writing.

me ; lena, she/her, 18, disaster lesbian, pisces

happy things ; music and piano, the colour red, reading, autumn, puns, reinaeiry, learning, and writing of course

fiction favs ; moral ambiguity, lgbtq+ themes, fantasy, historical fiction, found family, complex relationships, enemies to lovers, literature references and parallels, tragic lovers, fantasy politics

other ; tag and ask game friendly, open ask box and dms, and pls send me your wips!

fav reads ; much ado about nothing (shakespeare), ballad of songbirds and snakes (collins), red white and royal blue (mcquiston), as old as time (braswell), the false prince (nielsen)

current wips //

the kingdoms ; my indulgent sprawling medieval fantasy world with no plot. includes fantasy politics, diverse cultures, conlangs, and a large cast of lovable fiends.

long live the queen ; a regency-adjacent royal murder mystery. it's five years after vallera's civil war, and tensions are still running high. when the queen suddenly dies, her oldest daughter believes there was more to it than simply illness. themes of grief, familial bonds, loyalty, coming of age, politics, arranged marriages, and what it means to be a just queen when all you want to do is protect your siblings. (wip intro)

disney but gay ; shamelessly inspired by reinaeiry's but it's gay covers. disney retellings where i try to draw more from the folktales themselves and everyone's sapphic. things i love about this series: sleeping beauty is a dream-sharing soulmate au, belle has anxiety, snow white and flora are exes, and the beast's name is amarante after patricia mckillip's "lady of the skulls".

other wips ; have a lot of other wips running through my brain, even some that i have no intention of returning to but still have occasional revelations about. linked is my side blog for quote, photo, etc. reblogs without context. follow + ask questions if you want lol

if you have wips with any of the above themes, tag me! i'd love to see them :)

[guacemolyarts]

revenge gets ripped

[mar3frigoris]

Lesbians made me go to gym

Wip

[butchbird-art]

question #1 is it weird to take too many ster0ids and kill your gf's brother-in-law? question #2 how much of a WIP are u supposed to show when u post

[socialtomcat]

they started doing that on their own u guys i swear …..

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[sleepytownzzz]

not sure how you guys feel about me posting wips? but here’s the semi-finished sketch for the ellabs x love lies bleeding drawing! i still need to tweak some stuff pertaining to abby’s face but overall i don’t hate it 😌

[darlingofvalyria]

₊˚ପ⊹ the masterlist ✿ ❀ ❁

┊ ┊. ➶ ˚ The big book of fics contain works from HOTD, TLK & possibly more ewan mitchell related characters. | check pinned post for more info— current wips, requesting etiquette, etc. | formatted descending; newest work at the bottom | AO3 | dividers by @/saradika & @/cafekitsune┊ ➶ ｡˚ 　　°

The Sister's Hot Best Friend Trope

❛ MODERN AU!AEMOND ❜ ONGOING— fluff, angst, smut (5/7?) = Helaena has a brilliant idea for her sad sack of a brother, and it involves her hot best friend.

On My One Good Knee

❛ MODERN AU!AEMOND ❜ COMING SOON— fluff, angst, smut (0/10) = Your boss makes a snap decision to prevent deportation. Now you're back in his hometown for his father's birthday with you on his arm. And did I mention they think you're his fiancé?

In Hightower Green

❛ JACAERYS ❜ ONGOING— angst, smut, fluff (5/7?)= The life and lies of the secondborn daughter of Viserys I, twin to Aegon II, and Queen Consort and wife to King Jacaerys Velaryon.

Kinktober 2023

❛ MULTIPLE CHARACTERS ❜ ONGOING— smut (2/6)= Sexy, smutty, fluffy, to angsty. Welcome to Kinktober '23. Warning. Contains fics ranging from monsterfucking to kidnapping. Readers discretion is advised.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Aemond Targaryen ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

HOW I 'ACTUALLY' MET YOUR MOTHER | fluff = Aegon spills the real way Aemond met you to your children.

THE BLACK STAG | dark, smut = What does obsession and possession bleed? Features Dark!Aemond.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Aegon Targaryen II ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

YOURS, NOT TRULY | angst = You have fallen in love with your husband who views your marriage as nothing more than a duty.

LEMON CAKE TO MY TEA | fluff, smut = Jealousy and marriage advices sandwich your fresh marriage with the firstborn son of the King.

OH, JEEPERS! | smut, angst = As lovers, you and Aegon were great. As exes, you and him might be the actual worst.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Daemon Targaryen ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

A DALLIANCE OF DRAGONS | smut, angst = When your husband betrays you, you turn to your uncle for help.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Rhaenyra ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

HER FAVOURITE | smut = Your future queen rewards you for all your hard work.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Osferth ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

GHOST BRIDE | smut, fluff = Sanctuary comes with the price of a lonely, ghost bride. And addictively warm fun.

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Multiple ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌

DAEMYRA (Daemon + Rhaenyra)

➵ PUNISHMENT | smut = You are Daemon's punishment, and Rhaenyra couldn't be happier.

╰┈➤ ❝ DISCLAIMER: i don't own these characters but these stories are mine. Please don't repost/copy without my permission. This includes feeding them to AI. I consider this an insidious act and I bite. Comments, reblogs, & likes are not mandatory but very much appreciated! Tell me how you feel! ❞┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

me: right, gonna write like 1500 words of a straightforward praise kink

me, 2000 words later, having finally written the first line that could be construed as 'praise': the plot of this 15k blowjob is that the pov character believes himself to be abandoned by god

so um. wip wednesday, from one of the [checks notes] ... several ... fics i have started writing, apparently.

Di Feisheng hesitates. Li Lianhua does not. 'Show me,' he says, softly, not moving. He won't move; Fang Duobing has a clear path to the stairs, if that's what he wants. All he has to do is turn and walk up them and his choice will be clear, and Li Lianhua will never let himself think of this again. He shouldn't think of it now, either. Not about either of them, both half in love with the man he used to be, one who doesn't understand what he is now, one who doesn't know what he was then. He shouldn't. But he does. He wants it, wants this, wants this beautiful boy on his knees. He glances at Di Feisheng and finds that he's just as transfixed, watching silently, and Li Lianhua wants that, too, wants the pressure of that gaze on him, the warmth of that body against his. Wants to watch the two of them crash against each other. This is a mistake, he thinks. 'You can leave,' he says, carefully casual. 'No one will think less of you if you go back upstairs.' 'Where you belong' is left unsaid, but the implication lingers. 'No,' says Fang Duobing. He makes his choice, though not in the way that Li Lianhua had expected. Fang Duobing drops to his knees, the noise shockingly loud against the silent press of the night. Outside, the crickets whir in sympathy; inside, the shadows draw closer, but he seems to glow, caught at the edge of the candlelight, his eyes wet and shining. 'I can be good,' he repeats, 'for you.' He catches his lip between his teeth for a moment, and Li Lianhua wants to catch it himself, wants to bite it until it bleeds.

[steadfastsaturnsrings]

WIP Wednesday!

Thank you for all of the tags @aspecbuddie, @pirrusstuff, @callmenewbie, @wikiangela, @lover-of-mine, @hippolotamus, @disasterbuckdiaz, @thewolvesof1998, @theotherbuckley, @spotsandsocks, @weewootruck @daffi-990 @your-catfish-friend@exhuastedpigeon and anyone else I forgot who has tagged me in WIP games <3 I have been busy lately so I haven't been able to write a lot but I appreciate the tags very very much :) (If I forgot you just let me know so I can update it)

I am back with another snippet from my Buck Breakdown fic. I was inspired to write this scene based on when Buck tells Bobby he quits during the lawsuit era. I tried to capture Buck behaving in that manner for this scene, so have that scene in mind when you read this snippet! :)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buck was breathing heavy now, tears streaking his rough cheeks, eyes red rimmed and clouded with tears. His posture stiffened, and he rose to his full height to use the few inches of height he had on Eddie to tower over him.

“Evan” Eddie repeated stoically, in his paramedic voice he used to talk to patients who were in shock, “I understand you’re upset, but I never meant for-“ His stoic posture hiding the internal storm of emotions he was currently experiencing—He might actually lose Buck this time, for good.

But Buck wasn’t having any of this, he was Done.

“No, Eddie, you don’t get to talk to me like that” Buck spat, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Buck’s inhaled sharply, a loud huff escaping as he exhaled through flared nostrils. He raised his finger to point at Eddie angrily.

“After all of the effort I put into our relationship, All of the tears I shed for you, All of the scars I gained for you, All of the nightmares I suffer from saving you time and time again. All of the trauma I have gained because of you. All of the walls I put down to let you in, you do this to me?! You have been purposely pulling away from me for months.” Buck screamed.

He shifted his weight, glaring down at Eddie as he took another breath,

“All of the lies you told me about me not being expendable, about me mattering to you, about trusting me with Chris. None of it was true. I should’ve known.

All of the emotions and hell I went through for you. all of the nightmares I get where I can’t get to you in time and you bleed out in front of me. All of the pain I was in, and you did nothing to help me. You didn’t even try to talk about what happened with me. You just wanted to pull away because it was easier for you than to try and work with me. To get through it together, with me” Buck shouted, his voice cracking as he struggled through each word.

“Buck, you’re not listening to me” Eddie began slowly in that stoic voice again, “I didn’t mean to pull away, I never knew how much pain you were in, I was stuck in my own head. If I’d known I would’ve done everything I could have to help you. I see you, Evan” He said that last phrase softly, desperately, trying to get Buck to look him in the eye and know his sincerity.

“No, Eddie. If you really saw me, you would’ve known something was wrong and you wouldn’t have pushed me away. You would’ve loved me anyway, despite everything else going on” Buck said lowly. He turned now, taking one last look at Eddie before he walked out the door.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(No Pressure tags!): @pirrusstuff @lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @elgascreamslikehell @daffi-990 @callmenewbie @thewolvesof1998 @monsterrae1 @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @housewifebuck @weewootruck @buddiedaydreamer911 @bucksbirthmark @underwater-ninja-13 @wikiangela @disasterbuckdiaz @eddiebabygirldiaz @wildlife4life @exhuastedpigeon @slowlyfoggydestiny @captain-hen @eowon @watchyourbuck @try-set-me-on-fire @princehattric @bigfootsmom @911-on-abc @cm1031sr @theotherbuckley @spaceprincessem @malewifediaz @buckaroosheart @tawaifeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @sammysouffle @aspecbuddie @aroeddiediaz and anyone else who wants to play :) If you have already done WIP Wednesday, this is your Thursday Tag! :)

Reader tags: @msasterisk @lildreamer32

As always, let me know if you want to be added or removed and if you want to be added as a reader tag!

[lena-rambles]

Dusty Rose and Bubblegum Pink for the ask game.

hi! thanks for the ask :D

Dusty Rose: Your personal favourite character in your wip

I answered that for Long Live in the previous ask, so I'll answer for DbG from the few notes and ideas i have. My favourite from that series is Belle, which would be no surprise to anyone who knows me. Beauty and the Beast is my favourite fairytale — the movie and original story and the variations I've managed to get my hands on. So it stands to reason that I'd love my version of Belle too. Her sass, bookwormness, the strength and grace she has throughout life's changes (especially regarding the original story where her family suddenly loses their wealth) — I just love her so much.

Bubblegum Pink: If you could only write one genre for the rest of your life, what would it be?

12 year old me would hate me for this answer because she curled her lip at any book marketed in this genre, but romance. (i wonder why she disliked them, not like they were all cishet stories) It's become so important to me to read and write queer stories, specifically wlw. Positive queer media — music, tv, books, my own writing, etc. — have helped me so much with internal homophobia and being not only accepting, but eager, about my own sexuality. If I could be that for someone else, then I have done right in my life. Uh, probably a bit deeper answer than expected, but. I've thought a lot recently about why I write and it all boiled down to this.

So yeah. I'd write romance because it's the core of why I write.

I say that as Long Live has a cishet, albeit atypical, main pairing lol . . . llq has been a thing longer than i've considered myself queer so my point still stands

Hope you appreciated these answers! Again, thanks for the ask :)

[theotherbuckley]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @wikiangela @fortheloveofbuddie @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life 💖💖

Okay so I’m mad because I just woke up to all these tags for WIP Wednesday only to realise it’s actually Thursday for me because time zones. Actually I feel like that should be a good thing it means it’s closer to the end of the week. Damn ignore my ramblings 😭.

So I haven’t had time to write any more Buck running fic stuff because uni has been crazy and I’m exhausted. But,, here’s some of a different fic which I have actually posted snippets before. It’s basically a depressing fic set in s5 when Maddie, Chim, and Eddie have left. I’ve written quite a lot of this fic a while ago but I’m not entirely happy with it. Alas, here it is.

Eddie gets shot on a Thursday. In broad daylight, and Buck is right there. And all he can do is watch. Eddie gets shot on a Thursday and Buck thinks that’s the moment it all started— when everything got bad again.

Because Eddie gets shot and Buck just stands there, frozen. With his blood splattered on his shirt, on his face, in his mouth. There is just something so wrong, he thinks, with knowing what his best friend’s blood tastes like before he even knows what his lips taste like, what his— It’s just all wrong.

Maybe it started before that, when he found out the truth about his entire existence. That he was just nobody. Just spare parts, created for a child that his parents might’ve actually loved. That he couldn’t even do the one thing he was made for; couldn’t even save his own brother.

It’s like his life finally made sense; why he was so screwed up. He was defective parts that nobody ever really wanted, just a means to an end, and he had failed at even that. So maybe it was then that things started getting bad again.

Or maybe it was the lawsuit, when nobody could even look him in the eye. Maybe it was when Eddie was yelling at him. You’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting.

Maybe it was the tsunami, where he lost Christopher. Sometimes he still wakes up screaming his name.

Or maybe it’s just that everyone is leaving. Again.

But no, he thinks, it was the shooting where everything just started crashing right back down.

Because Eddie was shot on a Thursday.

And now it’s months later and Buck still lies awake at 3am because he’s back there and he’s frozen and he’s watching his— Eddie get shot, 6 feet in front of him, and he’s just there and why wasn’t it him?

Why wasn’t it him?

Every time he closes his eyes it's all just red. Every time he closes his eyes he’s stuck watching as his best friend bleeds out on the road whilst he’s pushed to the ground by Captain Mehta and all he can do is just stare.

And Eddie’s reaching out to him, and people are screaming, he thinks, but for some reason it's all just so quiet. And he can’t do anything.

Except in his dreams Buck never does roll under the fire truck. He can’t move, can’t do anything except watch Eddie die.

And all he can think is why wasn’t it him.

Tagging: @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @eddiediaztho @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @jeeyuns @bucksbirthmark @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @king-buckley @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars <3 also anyone else who I missed or anyone who wants to share.

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Word Find Tag

I was tagged by @kaylinalexanderbooks <3

My words: accept, appreciate, access, advice

Your words: bleed, breathe, behave, bargain

And I am tagging, if you want to do it, @sarandipitywrites @aria-benedetto @pleasestaywithmedarling @winterandwords and as always an open tag

Those are wonderful words. They all appear in Sweet Little Lies (WIP Intro), and only 1-3 times each 😅

Accept

“Oh Laurent, do you think I’m that naive? Do you think I believed for one second you were just taking a nice evening stroll when…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t think he’d be talking to her about this if there were people in earshot, but she wasn’t going to risk it. “I have long accepted that you treat the truth as an option rather than a necessity.” “And yet you’re here with me,” he mumbled. “And yet I am here with you.”

Appreciate

“How are the Fiery Wastrels selling?” he asked. “Not at all. I don’t have many customers I would inflict that upon.” “But you do have customers you would inflict that upon?” Aurelia laughed again. With him around, she found herself laughing and smiling more than ever. “Two or three,” she admitted. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. No ginger, and no chili.” “I appreciate it.”

Access

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. He was sitting on the stairs. “Some of those old buildings have direct access to the sewers. Do you know if this one has?” “I don’t think so?” “Hm.” His breathing turned strained as he pulled himself up. “You mentioned a backdoor. I didn’t see one?” “It’s in the storage room. I never use it.” “Mind if I check?”

Advice

Was it too early to call it love? Every time he visited, with every teasing word, every stolen touch, and every thoughtful gesture, she fell a bit more for him. He seemed earnest in his intentions but moved slowly, and Aurelia had the feeling that if she wanted more, she would have to take the next step. A few times, she had gotten close. When he said farewell in that tone that promised he would come back and took her hand with fingers that were so warm and gentle. She opened the window and let the nightly breeze cool her glowing cheeks. Some of the others had seeing partners. Perhaps she could ask them for advice.

[butchbird-art]

wip can you guess who

[shivunin]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Tagged by @daggerbean @ndostairlyrium @inquisimer @greypetrel and @plisuu - Thank you for tagging me! I fear many of you have already done your thing for the week, but for whenever @dreadfutures @pinayelf @zenstrike @dungeons-and-dragon-age @vakarians-babe and you!

Not fandom things, but I am still working on my yarn project (shawl? lap blanket? idk, I'm having fun).I had to pull a bunch of lines to fix something, but I'm making progress again and loving how this is coming out.

Writing-wise, I just finished a first draft of an Exchange piece (hard-won) and I've been looking over a Zevwen thing I started a few months ago. The research bit is the reason I set this aside instead of finishing it a few months ago, but the heart of it is steady.

This is part of one of my favorite scenes so far (700ish words):

Water sloshed in the tub behind her. Zevran’s fingertips brushed her elbow when he stepped past, and she adored the comfort of it even as she silently willed him not to ask. 

“Do you know,” he said. “I know that we were convinced to leave the alienage, but—what do you think of find a way into that clinic in the morning?” 

Wen turned to look at him, running the cloth through her wet hair, and he smiled at her. 

“I do think we can take them, should we bring the correct people,” he added. “These words about some sort of illness are clearly all lies, whatever they say.”

Oh—the realization had hit her more than once, swift and unerring as an arrow to the chest, but she had it again now: she loved him. Perhaps she would explain the feeling away later, perhaps she would shove it off for some other day. It didn’t matter. But right now—right now his hair clung to his face in a distinctly unattractive way, he was making an odd face while he dried his neck, and the skin on his hands was wrinkled with water. 

He was the most beautiful thing in the whole of Thedas and she loved him unequivocally. 

“Alright,” she said, and turned away again. “Yes. We should.”

Her hand ached when she pressed her thumb to the wound, but at least it had stopped bleeding. Wen bound it before she climbed into bed. She’d hesitated to ask Zevran to stay—after all that, she’d no idea what she might say or do next—but he’d followed her to the massive bed anyway and she hadn’t had the heart to tell him to leave her. Instead, she twined her bare legs with his and wrapped her arm around his waist. If she laid her head on his chest, she couldn’t see him looking at her. 

They’d doused the lights. Only the warm light of the fire remained, dancing over the fine golden hairs over his chest. Wen watched them, listening to the steady beat of Zevran’s heart. His hand lifted and stroked through her hair after they’d been lying still for several moments. It felt nice, soothing, relieving some of the ache at the base of her neck. Just as she’d begun to doze, he spoke again. 

“I will not ask,” he said, and she tensed. “I said that I will not, mi vida, unless you tell me otherwise. But—why did you not tell me?” 

One of Nelaros’s eyes had been open. She remembered that. One open, one missing. You could see all the way through it to the stone floor beneath. When she’d taken the ring from his hand, she’d wondered if it would fit perfectly inside, as if it had always been meant to frame a wound rather than adorn a hand. 

“I didn’t know how,” she said, and it was the truth. She still didn’t know how and she’d already done it. But—it wasn’t the whole truth. She’d gone this far without outright lying to Zevran; there was no sense in stopping now. 

“I—didn’t want you to see me any differently.” 

“Truly? After everything I have told you?” 

There was a rumble of a chuckle in his chest. Wen steeled herself and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes glinted in the firelight, flashing gold, and as hard as she searched she could find no recriminations in them. 

“Alright,” she said at last. “It was stupid.” 

“I did not say so,” he pronounced, pressing a hand to his chest. 

Wen bared her teeth at him and he laughed at her, tipping his head back against the pillows. She loved his laugh, even when he was laughing at her; she loved the long line of his throat and the way he smiled at her when he didn’t think she was watching and she loved his grace, loved the way he wove through a battlefield like he anticipated every move of his opponent. She loved his hand in hers and the way he smelled and she loved him. 

She loved him. 

“I hate you,” she said, and tucked her face against his neck so she could nuzzle the soft skin there. 

[365runesoftheamalgamations]

The Not Yet Forgotten Introduction

hello and how are you?

This has been far too long since we have been active and we've wanted to get back into the flow of things! And we believe it is time for a Reintroduction! So, without further ado,

A Proper Introduction

Welcome to the Writing Blog! We are the Not Yet Dead Authors, the Natsume Rune! You may refer to us as Natsume as a whole, or say hi to any of the specifics who run the blog/do the writes! Our pronouns are we/they, and we are an aromantic/asexual genderfluid cluster of whispers drowning in the Void for more than two decades. So just another set of Wanderers who wish to reach out and touch the Worlds in a more pronounced way!

Full Writeblr Introduction under the cut!

Getting To Know Us

We are most comfortable writing and conversing in italics! It just feels like it speaks with our souls, so please be aware that most of the posts and such will be within that realm of writing.

Our most comfortable sense of writing is in third person present tense! We also write in first person (sometimes) and second person (rarely) but our comfort lies in others and their present.

We write mostly fantasy but also dabble in horror, science fiction, dystopian and other works and writing styles. We do hold our own universe, the Storyverse, that we will hint, note, and talk about, depending on things, as well as a multitude of Worlds that will be given over to the Stories happening within in. Hardcore about both worldbuilding and storytelling, so we will probably have a lot to say about both the Worlds and Stories that come with our hyperfixations.

Our writing forms include: fanfiction, short stories, drabbles, flash fiction, novels, poems, and role playing! We enjoy rolling through forms and trying out different ways of telling and sharing stories, so please note that there will be a lot of everything on here.

We follow from the System's Blog, @365runesofthesystem, and will try to be really active in the community, so if you see us around, then feel free to indulge us! We love to be tagged in games and sent asks and the like and will try to get to all of them in due time. [ yes, we do hoard Tag Games, shut the fuck up about it. ]

If there is anything else anyone would like to know, do not hesitate to ask or message us! But be aware that we are not afraid to deal with anything impolite or inappropriate, we have a zero tolerance standard and we will keep it without hesitation.

The Amalgamations of our Creations

We have a lot - and yes, we mean a fuck ton - of Works and Stories that we want to tell at some point in our lives, so this list will definitely grow and expand and shift as we go through our journey.

If you want a full list of all of our Works, check our both our Original Works Masterlist and our Fanworks Masterlist!

All Links to WIP Pages and Intro Posts will be added as we get things sorted and settled!

But here are a few of our more pronounced Works, [ yes, they can and will probably shift and change. No they are not in any particular order, we hate figuring out orders. ]

Grayland's Shadow

Original Work | Fiction, Low Fantasy, Horror Elements First, Second, Third Person | Second Drafts

Ecstasy. The screaming, the struggling, the pleas for mercy, he loved them all. He loved the way they always seemed to think that he would set them free. That, if they were good and tried hard enough, he would just let them live, bleeding and knowing. As if he would ever let anyone go. He never did. He never wasted an opportunity either. So when a girl, around her way into adulthood, sat down next to him on the bench that day, he had no intention of letting her go. None.

Constellations By Orion

Original Work | Fiction, High Fantasy, Action and Adventure Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Worldbuilding

Orion is the first one she goes for, as he always points North. "I am just saying, your little stowaway is pretty cute." "I don't need a man Orion, I need directions across the sea." "Trust me, if you want a purpose, you should find Ursa Major. She's the guide of adventure, new life." "And where can I find her?" "At the heart of the ocean. She is the Guardian of Polaris and her baby, Ursa Minor."

The Queen & The Heir

Short Story | Fiction, High Fantasy, Medival Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting/Prompt Response

She hates herself for hesitating. She stares at the note, gentle cream instead of stark white in order to hold the same connotations of the maid notes that she, and more importantly he, was accustomed to seeing. She glances at the Guard, barely catches the door closing completely, locking her in with the words that would prove herself justified. Or truly and quietly mad.

The Rapunzel Witch

Short Stories | Fiction, High Fantasy, Fairytale Retellings, LGBTQIA+ Third Person Present Tense | Chapter/Scene Drafting

Vibrant and sharp, it is another small check to his identity; the Queen is staring at him, though instead of the hard determination of a leader, he stands before the soft gentleness of a person unused to such direct contact. Something shifts in those eyes; the Royal Majesty frowns more before he lets his eyes drop to the ground between them. “Well, that’s that then, isn’t it?” The Knight feels a soft pang; he almost takes a step forward, hand twitching at his side before the Royal spins around and walks away from him. “Your obligations are fulfilled; the Rapunzel Witch lives.”

The Plague Begins With Me

Original Work | Dystopian, Horror Third Person Present Tense | Scene Drafting

Lost to the devastation of the Plague and destroyed by the aftermath of Humanity’s Fall, the World of Zeomia holds nothing but the dystopian devastation of disease and decay. Shouldering a responsibility that no one else is allowed to know, Zero tries to give mercy to those who have fallen from her own twisted fate.

Main Tags of the Blog

rune ⊹ writings | general writing tag rune ⊹ works in progress | where you can find all of our works rune ⊹ wanderlust | general tag for other blogs rune ⊹ nonsense | fun and silly things outside of the writings/writeblr rune ⊹ beloved | general tag for the mutuals of the writeblr rune ⊹ asks | tag for answering asks and anything from the inbox rune ⊹ authors | writing updates and softer thoughts of us rune ⊹ background noise | anything to do with the blog