#february prompt challenge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

searchingforserendipity25 · 3 months

Text

Diplomatic Concerns. (russingon, on ao3).

When they did at last come together, it did not feel like an inevitability to Maedhros. Far easier it was to believe - to contrive - ways in which they might betray themselves, and allow their understanding to betray their people.

This, they both agreed, could not be permitted. Maedhros would have loved Fingon less, if he had been willing to brave the storm of opposition and defiance their open courtship would cause.

His people had cause, just cause to stand against it; and Maedhros had his own brothers and vassals to rule over, in less official fashion, without the benefit of official authority to put them in place if it prove needed.

They pledged their troth under the stars, a wordless promise with no bitter oath to mar it; and thereafter took the greatest care and discretion that none guessed at it.

It was some effort, Maedhros admitted, if only in their very secretive correspondence, written on hidden wink in the back of their official missives.

His mouth ached, his arms felt emptier - poetry, he found, spoke to him beyond the pleasure of precise meter and rhyme.

It was absurd; it was dangerous. Always he kept Fingon swept from his mind, lest some of his heart bleed through enough to be perceived; and always it was work, to keep Fingon out of the forefront of his thinking.

And it was mortifying, too. To be infatuated, to have a joy to hide, to know himself cherished and desired - he could not have bourne it to be known, not easily.

It was only some consolation to know Fingon found his pining ardor very pleasing, being that he was at too great a distance to do much with that. As a matter of fact, it made it all the more torturous.

This lasted all through the first fortnight of the autumn summit.

Maglor looked at him indulgently. “How many horses can Fingon possibly need? Nay, not at all. You must give him the best foal, and rear it by your hand, and drape it in Fingon’s raiment and colours, and teach it the signals he favours. Quality, not merely quantity! Do you hear me wasting breath on too many love songs? There must be a measure, by which things are made precious.”

“You were song-wed by proxy fashion to an ascetic zither-master you knew from correspondence only, and met thrice every ten yéni,” Maedhros told him.

Maglor shrugged. “Once every ten yéni was enough. It made the anticipation all the sweeter.”

Maedhros raised all three colts to perfect training. If some of his braids were chewed away, and much of the fur of his best coats, then at least Fingon was suitably impressed.

None guesses at our affections, Maedhros amended on his next letter, besides Maglor, and his silence is our boon. Fingon was swift to tease him for that - and in truth he had barely bothered to hide it from Maglor.

There was little use; therefore he worried little. All the rest of his brothers held their own domains, were occupied with their duties - if it became pressing, he could always invent a new task to distract their tracks.

He had forgotten Caranthir. Caranthir never needed to be given new directions; if anything, he excelled at taking attentive initiative, especially on matters of international commerce.

“I,” Maedhros said. “Have never offered any thing, to lord or vassal, besides gifts of friendship, and diplomacy, and cunning morsels of what might attained with a better trade arrangement.”

“Explain to me how Fingon’s newest gem-crown counts as a diplomatic expense,” Caranthir demanded.

Besides Caranthir and Maglor, none noticed.

The next time they met - a well-prepared hunting retreat, and the anticipation did have a certain strain of pleasure in it - it was only some time after the first enthusiastic greetings that they found time and patience to speak at lenght about their dealings, those small or great matters they had not trusted even to set to hidden writing.

"Did you -”

"I told none. Besides those who know."

“Are you entirely certain. Amras and Amrod keep sending me cured meats? Excellent sausages for my table, and lovely truffles. For some reason; they did not last year.”

"They are not poisoned," Maedhros assured automatically. Then hesitated. "They do like to experiment with spices and certain powders, however."

"I noticed," Fingon said, mouth curved. It was a lovely smile, better for being not amused; Maedhros suffered the rather stupid instinct to kiss his cheek. "Around the time the sugared mushrooms caused an apparition of a great mammoth grazing upon my father's head as we sat in public Council. It appeared purple to my eyes, the mammoth; also my father."

Maedhros had suffered great torments of the flesh and spirit; the image made him wince with genuine feeling. Fingolfin kept a very eclectic conjunction of lords near him, Sindar and Noldor and Avari, all of them clever, cunning, far-seeing people with an unhappy habit of keeping a wide awareness to every stray thought that they might fish out slyly round them on a wide range of space. It made Maedhros feel unusually warmly towards his straightforward, stone-silent dwarves and the fierce, scarred, closed minds that came to serve Himring.

"You need to string them up from a high tower," Maedhros concluded. "You shall have their apologies in a season."

"Need is a strong word," said Fingon. But his mouth was twitching, more genuinely.

Through the place where their spirits pressed together he passed on the faint, kaleidoscopic memories of that afternoon - Maedhros had stifle his own crinkling eyes. It was impossible not to admit Fingolfin did look rather fetching in tints of purple; and the mammoth was very realistic.

"If you want them to redeem themselves, have them send more next year. I would rather have enjoyed them in privacy. Lalwen thought it was very amusing. Eventually; she stole the rest of the bounty, and left me none at all, which was very like her and rather a disappointment. If your brothers are found wandering the wilds naked and intoxicated, you shall find no way to prove it was her work."

"They will enjoy it too much." Maedhros thought of when the twins's nonsense had been joyful, once. And involved less paperwork. The worst of it was that they likely thought it a good gift.The twins had ever liked Fingon well enough, as much as they liked anyone outside their enclosing understanding.

Fingon turned around, with that sweeping grace that made him deadly. In a moment he had rolled them over. His hands dug into the loam around Maedhros's head; his legs tangled in him, pressing down, delicious.

There you are, he thought, directly at Maedhros. No distance at all, and his laughing mind dizzying like a windfall, a sweeping rush. You stay away too often, Russandol, even here.

"Let them," he said, voice low and warm, close enough Maedhros could feel it thrum in his own throat. He was so very warm. Maedhros's whole body felt alive under him, as if he were fresh from a battle; as if it could feel alive and joyful with no violence. "I mean to enjoy myself with a clear mind. I mean to recall you perfectly while we are apart."

Maedhros, rather wisely, he thought, kept any commissioned tokens away from familiar forges.

It was a marvel, the inspiration which which Curufin could contrive as an insult. In this he truly was Fëanor's heir.

I will not have any of our Father's house be known for offering substandard works, he wrote, a stiff note of parchment atop a casket.

Inside the casket was a treasure - elf-made emeralds, and rubies, fine gleaming garnets that caught the golden light from the candles and would assuredly shine beauteously strung around golden ribbons, and on the chained earrings Fingon favoured.

Keep those Dwarven pieces away from Fingolfin and his ilk, lest he rethink our work agreements. Have you lost your sense, along with your shame? Findekáno's not the least suited to Belegost's blue-steel and sapphires, they wash him out terribly, I do not know how Fingolfin can be so tasteless in his heraldry as not to consider it.

Maedhros recalled a time when his brother at least pretended to attend to elvish mores, those small contrivances of decent conduct. Such as pretending at ignorance. Pretending at ignorance had been a good habit, one Huan's master remembered these days merely when it was convenient for him.

Celegorm only looked at him in a flat vulpine fashion, nostrils flaring. Worse than a smirk, worse than mischief. Maedhros had seen it turned on others often enough; he could not say he enjoyed the very unpleasant awareness with which it remind everyone of all the passionate embraces they may or may not have indulged in the wild, where a little bird might carry gossip, or a finicky squirrel pass on mockery.

It also made him rethink the wisdom of wearing Fingon's undershirt under his tunic.

"Not a word," he ordered.

Celegorm only whistled in wolf-like fashion and darted away from his swing.

The next time Fingon dared him for a swim after a lengthy ride up the hills of Barad Eithel, Maedhros quite ruined the romance of it all by insisting on raising a tarp-and-leather tent beforehand.

Huan had the good grace to wait until they passed each other on an empty corridor before stopping to block his path.

Oromë's hunting hound looked at him with those terribly knowing dark eyes and let out a soft snorting sound. It was not a very approving woof; a little mournful, perhaps. Maedhros did not speak Hound.

"Do not you start also," Maedhros said. His tone held little effort, as it ever did in these cases.

He had to fight the instinct to cross his arms. He refused to be easily biddable or intimidated. As a matter of principle; he had few of those, and it tended to be better to keep to those he did maintain.

Woof-woof, said Huan.

"We are all Doomed regardless," argued Maedhros.

A sniff, rather pointed. A little charming, perhaps - none of his brothers had offered, so far.

"It is very generous of you to offer," Maedhros said. "No biting will be necessary. I would rather Fingon whole as he may."

Huan licked his bad arm. Shifting ears, which, in all honesty, were insulting.

"I am not letting myself be carried off as a mate to establish a new collective dynamic as pertaining previous intra-community competitions," Maedhros said, rather stiffly. "No, not though I was stolen from the Enemy for that purpose."

Maedhros did not speak Hound, as such; but Huan and him understood each other a little. If anyone was going to look at him with the knowledge that Maedhros would have let himself be carried off as a prize, and possibly did not dislike the notion, he would rather it was him.

"I will bring you some of that good hind meat from Dor-Lómin," he conceded, eager to bribe him away.

Huan's dog-grin finally widened. Maedhros, relieved to be free from evaluation, scratched his chin until his wagging tail was thumping the carpet. Some relatives, he thought, were harder to please than others.

"We have failed at every avenue," Maedhros concluded, as displeased as he could stand to be just then. "Let this be not a sign of our joined efforts to come!"

Fingon was rather less moved at their failure than Maedhros would have expected. Possibly that was the effort of the long ride to the fortress, and their - reunion. Maedhros did not want him alarmed and on his feet, as such; but he did eye his complacence a little.

"Brothers are not Balrogs. It could be worse," Fingon said, very confidently.

Maedhros lifted his head from Fingon's chest. His own eyes were growing half-lidded; his muscles too felt weary, suffused still with satisfaction. Himring's walls, warm within like a living body, rumbled faintly with the noise of their gaseous pipes. He was warm, and sated, and all in all quite in accord with the form of the world, at least for the foreseeable candle-mark.

It was only that he had not trusted messengers to pass on the news; and he had felt an urgency to share the state of affairs with Fingon for months. They had determined to be fully discreet.

"How?"

"Turgon and Aredhel might return," Fingon said promptly. His voice showed he had considered the matter at great length, and was very amused by the way Maedhros went still against him. "And be less generous with their blindness than the rest of my - our kin."

"They might not have noticed. Your father has not."

Fingon lifted himself on his elbow, and looked at him, a little pityingly.

"Beloved," he said. "Whom do you think invented the art of invisible writing?"

#february ficlet challenge #prompt 2 - pretend not to be dating #maedhros #fingon #russingon #my fics #silm fic

92 notes · View notes

soupy-drawz · 3 months

Text

Soup tries to do a 30 day art challenge for the gazillionth time day one

#Ducktales #Ducktales 2017 #Dt17 #Ducktales fanart #Louyd #Ducktales louie #Louie duck #Louie ducktales #Ducktales boyd #Boyd gearloose #Boyd ducktales #I know February doesn't have 30 days but listen. Listen. Otp challenge. Valentines day.#Its for the vibes #I'm doing the like main top challenge btw.. Apparently it has a wiki page..? I'm going off that those are the prompts I remember #Ill probably alternate through different designs for them in this but I wanted to start with their canon designs #Consider this a bit of a redraw of that one old piece I posted. I referenced the pose and bg from it #Also before anyone asks. I know like 2 of the prompts are kinda weird I am going to work around that I prommy trust me

90 notes · View notes

psychologeek · 2 months

Text

Lab Rat (pt. 3)

FEBUWHUMP 2024 PROMPTS: DAY 5: rope burns DAY 6: "you lied to me" ALT 2: "i love you"

“You lied to me,” Jazz sounds at the edge of tears.

“What?” He can hear Danny argue. “I did not –”

“You lied to me,” she repeats. “I asked you if you'll be okay. I asked you if you are safe, and you said that you were. You said that I don't need to worry. That it's okay.”

“It was–” the kid sounds confused.

“Being tied to a bed and tortured is not okay!” she nearly screams.

“That wasn't torture–”

“I saw the ropes, Danny.” Her voice is soft and fragile. “I saw how they tied you up to your bed. Just because you told them you were different.”

“They were scared, that's all. You know how they can be. It didn't hurt me.” He still tries to protect them.

“Danny, sweetheart,” she says quietly. “You still had rope burns when I found you. And even if you didn't – even if it was silk ribbons, and you could open it at any time– even if you never got a single scratch – it's still wrong. They shouldn't do it. They should have never hurt you, kiddo.”

There's a long quiet.

Jason takes the chance and takes a quick look across the corner. Dannys sitting there, on the couch, hugging his legs. Jazz is sitting by his side, not touching, a soft expression on her face.

“It wasn't a big deal,” the kid finally whispers. “It wasn't like- well, at the end. You saw. It wasn't that bad. They just did it because they cared, and they didn't want me hurt or–”

He's shaking now.

“I love you,” his sister says and hug him. “I love you, and I care about you, and I promise I'll do my best so one day, you'll learn that love isn't supposed to hurt.”

“Sounds fake, but okay,” Danny says with a cheeck and hugs her back.

He still has healing wounds. His scars are massive and easily observed. His hands are shaking, and he's jumping at loud noises.

He's got a long way to go.

But Jason can see a faint smile on the kid's lips, and something inside is quiet.

(There's still hope.)

(Like it? I have more mini-fics in this au. And full size fics on ao3. please vote in my update poll! And the one for next week! Bc I try to work ahead LMAO)

115 notes · View notes

nosebleedclub · 1 year

Text

February Prompts

1. green comet 2. sneer 3. fallow 4. corrupted 5. snow moon 6. instead of you 7. on the hill 8. ginger and clove 9. epic 10. brutality 11. gunk 12. clear light 13. buffalo 14. through the heart 15. harpsichord 16. overturned 17. liminal space 18. harbor 19. deviant 20. dirty blade 21. reviled 22. Byronic hero 23. cracked ice 24. plaid 25. decision 26. more than anything 27. doomed voyage 28. memorial

#prompts #february prompt challenge #Monthly Prompt Challenge #poetry #lit #nosebleedclub

250 notes · View notes

solivagantish · 3 months

Text

apollo

a god or a ship? a mission. falling pieces adrift (empty) space.

@nosebleedclub’s february prompt no. 8 — apollo.

#nosebleedclub #february prompt challenge #day eight #haiku #trying something new #daily practice #drafts #writing #warm up

10 notes · View notes

what-a-strange-creature--moved · 3 months

Text

february writing challenge ‧₊˚✧

some romance-themed prompts for the month of love 💞

i. first date

ii. perfume

iii. slow dance

iv. hey jealousy - gin blossoms

v. look, don't touch

vi. "you're so pretty"

vii. a crumpled up letter

viii. a sharp chest pain

ix. kissing games

x. secrets

xi. best friend

xii. a kiss on the cheek

xiii. "i forgot how much i needed this"

xiv. valentine

xv. pick-up lines

xvi. whisper

xvii. "spell it out for me"

xviii. five more minutes

xix. the hardest part

xx. apricity

xxi. from where you are - lifehouse

xxii. a dying fire

xxiii. eurydice

xxiv. a handmade gift

xxv. "i've never seen you that angry before"

xxvi. kalopsia

xxvii. what doesn't kill me makes me want you more

xxviii. promposal

xxix. "close your eyes"

┈ bonus ʚ♡ɞ ‧₊

xxx. a pitch black room

xxxi. a single touch

xxxii. "so good"

#writing prompts #romance writing prompts #otp prompts #prompts #art prompts #writing ideas #february writing challenge #romance writing challenge #writing inspiration #art inspiration #fic inspo #inspiration #writers on tumblr #mine*

125 notes · View notes

thetopichot · 3 months

Text

•°♡ !!Calling All Writers/Artists!! ♡°•

My name is Louie & I present you with a challenge! For the next 29 days, I'm doing a romance themed month challenge as a celebration for what my blog is about & I want to see the same for you guys as well!

(Zoom in into the picture for better quality.)

○•°◇ Rules ◇°•○

- No Full-Blown Nsfw. However, suggestive themes may be applied.

- No Gore. However, light gore may be applied.

- No heavy angst. However, angst & light angst may be applied.

- Don't use this challenge to be a asshole or a creep, alright? This is all for fun & we're all just having a good ol' fun here.

- To participate in the challenge, make your work (whether that be art or writing) & either tag me at @thetopichot or submit in my inbox!

(If anything happens, I may add more rules.)

Feel free to participate whenever you're ready but the deadline is February 29th!

If you have any questions about this challenge, feel free to either send me a letter in my inbox, message me, or comment!

See ya soon!

- Members Of The Topic Hot

65 notes · View notes

tambattus · 2 months

Text

day 28 anywhere

Finish line! This is the first challenge I've done since day one, which makes me extremely happy! Another thing that makes me extremely happy is you and your feedback! Thank so much @violettenouvel for this challenge.

#Kiss #Art #February #KissArtFebruary #trigun #meryl stryfe #vash x meryl #vashmeryl #trigun fanart #artmeme #art challenge #drawing prompt #prompts #trigun eriks

126 notes · View notes

salmonight · 3 months

Text

Fentonic 2024 - A February Danny Phantom, Art/Writing Monthly Prompt

Heya fellas! As I seen February did not have a monthly prompt yet for DP so I created one just for the kick of it! I made on for MLB with a very specific theme last October and I enjoyed it a lot so i thought i'd create another one, this time for DP as am mainly drawing for this fandom these days.

This challenge/prompt can be taken as a pure DP or a DC x DP (Batpham) one. If u wanna spice it up? You can even mix in other fandoms too! Go wild!

This challenge/prompt can be taken as both an art or a writing one, whichever you'd prefer. I tried to make it so all days can be both drawn and written with the given prompts (at least one of the two). Hope i managed it well enough.

As February is mainly know for Valentine's it will contain a few romatic prompts but most can be taken as platonic. For those not comfortable with writing or drawing romance: feel free to leave out that half of the prompt or even skip that day, no pressure.

Also let's not forget about the other half of it: winter. So stuff associated with it like cold, hot drinks, winter sports and more-

Prompts:

Day 1: Hibernation / Curse

Day 2: Locked out / Childhood friends AU

Day 3: A deadly accident / Snowboard

Day 4: Morning routine / Claws

Day 5: Soulmates AU / Torn paper

Day 6: Smug / Cupid's bow

Day 7: Cooking together / Roses

Day 8: Flirting / Viral

Day 9: Cuddling / Cape

Day 10: Holding hands / Love letter

Day 11: Chaos / Plushy

Day 12: Enemies to lovers / Love song

Day 13: Magical girl transformation / Hair dryer

Day 14: Snow storm / Dry

Day 15: Fur & fluff / Fireplace

Day 16: Failed confession / Ink blots

Day 17: Melting / Shackles

Day 18: Injury / Hot chocolate

Day 19: Mourning / Hug

Day 20: Stardust / Candies

Day 21: Timeloop / Scalpel

Day 22: Symbiosis / Cabin in the woods

Day 23: Love at first sight / Scarves

Day 24: Sleepy / Pink ribbon

Day 25: Skiing / Snowflakes

Day 26: Solitude / Mask

Day 27: Clothing swap / Clone

Day 28: Unexpected / Snack

Day 29: Sunset / Ice sculpture

Ao3 page: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fentonic_2024

Hope you guys will enjoy this little challenge I made! Cheers!

63 notes · View notes

searchingforserendipity25 · 3 months

Text

Plentiful as Sand is Plentiful. LoTR. on ao3.

There was for many years an hourglass upon Elrond’s desk, a tall ivory-and-glass thing from sunken Númenor.

As a little child Estel liked to turn it and turn it, and would sit for hours upon his foster father’s lap following the mother-of-pearl etchings on the handle with his fingertips and watching the sand shift softly.

For a time it was too heavy for his small wrists to turn; but Elrond with his keen hearing would know when the last grains came with an end, and knew when to turn it without lifting his eyes from his papers.

Elrond had given it for him to hold, when he told him the truth of his name: Aragon, son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur’s line and Isildur’s grim failure.

“Yet also to the courage of his people, and their skill,” Elrond told him. “Your forefather it was who made this time piece as a gift to me. From the glass-rooms of Armenelos it came, the last of Isildur’s works of beauty. It has been of good use to me, and good memory; I give it to you, that you should remember him with gratitude, as well as bitterness.”

“Yet bitter is it what you say to me,” said Estel, who was Aragorn. He was startled still, and yet not surprised entirely; for the blood of kings ran in him, and had at times left an uneasy premonition upon him.

Still he would have remained been Estel, and no lost kingdom’s wayward heir; least of all in this century, this Age of the world, with an evil reckoning brewing in the distance.

He turned the hourglass in his hands; a Mannish means of counting time, not to be found in other elvish kingdoms, but common enough in the house of Elrond Peredhel. “Keep it, Master Elrond. I cannot have it as my own, ere I am Isildur’s heir truly. These hurrying moments that are my lifetime shall be a heavy load to carry, I judge, and my course too rough for such a delicate thing.”

“Then keep it I shall, until you wish to reclaim it, or your score of years are run to their course,” said Elrond; and laid upon Estel’s shoulder the heavy comfort of his healer’s hands, which he felt for a time like a yoke as well as a kindness.

It rested between a tall orchid Celebrían had found once in her expeditions in the wilds of Ennor, a narrow and tall and very orange creature, the last of its kind on these shore - and on the other side was his pile of used quills, which he tended to keep until they were worn through into stumps, too blunt to be sharpened.

He used it little, after that day; but at times Arwen his daughter came, and stood by the chair where Aragorn had sat with bent shoulders to her his name.

Her fingers, long broideress fingers, touched the waves and leviathans Isildur had carved, with careful deliberation, in the last days of his youth, the dying of his empire. Her eyes grew clouded, then; not with the memory of the past, but her own designs, a future seen with the force of her want. Her own lord of man, his dear face not like any other’s; her own cities crowded with the smell of stone dust and salt.

She left it there, warmed by her skin, and went away from it but for rare and secret visits; but Elrond at times looked heavily upon it, as once he had not.

That was another Age of the world. There is now an hourglass amidst Tar-Elessar’s instruments - behind the inkwell of Gondorin silver, besides the whittling of an eagle in flight his eldest daughter has wrought him.

Many gifts have been to him, the king well-returned; but none quite as ancient. Elessar turns it in his hands, when a heavy ruling keeps him at work long into the night; Isildur’s hourglass, grown light with the strength of his manhood, feels always a little terrible to hold.

#aragorn #estel #elrond #arwen #elrond & aragorn #arwen x aragorn #my fics #lotr fic #february ficlet challenge #prompt - hourglass

70 notes · View notes