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taylor-titmouse · 4 months

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2023 Book Retrospective

it's pretty much the end of the year, and i've never done this before, but i wanted to take a look at what i managed to do in 2023 and share some of my thoughts on it! i published five novellas this year (though i didn't actually write one of them) plus the public release of the demo and first huge update to You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain. that's a lot!

so let's dig into all that. this will contain some spoilers for the books, because it's hard to talk about them without talking about what's in 'em, so maybe check out my itchio first and grab anything you missed! (but also.... perhaps wait until this weekend before you buy anything. shh.)

You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain, released in March

TECHNICALLY, the demo was finished and available on patreon around the end of last year, and didn't become public until I'd finished the garden update, which i did finish this year. and what a massive fuckin THING that was. 60k words! 50 illustrations!! the biggest thing i ever put out and technically finished, and the beginning of a move to being less afraid of writing "weird" sex. there was so much bee sex in it. arguably too much bee sex in it. which i'd left entirely til last to do which meant i was writing nothing but bee sex for weeks.

this was the first time i let myself really indulge in writing dubcon for the bad endings, and it was a lot of fun. very often it was more interesting than the deliberately horny routes, because it meant writing a way to be put in the situation, and also making it hot every time. i'm very much of the philosophy with dubcon that even if the situation wasn't Ideal for the character, they're still going to get good sex out of it. i believe i put it at another point as, i'm here to write the pleasure of helplessness, not suffering. to that point, the dubcon endings for the armor, the dryad, and the queen bee were my favorite bits from this.

the fact i never got a second update out this year is a big regret. i finished a bunch of the routes for it, but ultimately i wanted to have things i could release! shortly after publishing the demo and update, i officially put my webcomic on hiatus so i could focus more on my graphic novel, and also spend more time on my writing. having that extra time is probably the only reason i was able to write as much as i did this year, and i didn't want to spend it toiling away on a serial project i couldn't release for months at a time.

which leads us to the release of my first novella of the year...

House of the Risen King, released in April

now this is when i truly said "i'm just going to write what i think is hot and interesting and not worry about how it's perceived!!" and went whole hog on exhibitionism and monster dubcon cult horror. house was mostly inspired by the ending of Hereditary, and was originally going to be more poltergiesty and played more straight, with vee being harangued by a bunch of horny ghost-demons and nothing more sinister than that. but i've had cult shit percolating at the back of my brain forever, and i wanted to play with ideas i'd first developed in shadow in the shelves with rituals and shadows, so here we are! the scene of hettie fingering vee in the bathtub while vee's god-fucked out of her mind is my favorite.

fun fact, the original seed for this book was actually going to feature max and mortis, my photographer/model couple (that link goes to cohost because i wasn't posting here yet when i was drawing them the most). the idea was they'd go do an urban exploration shoot and mortis would start getting fucked by a ghost while max filmed it, but the more time i spent with those characters the less i wanted to involve the supernatural. which meant i never wrote their book, and had to make a new character to do the idea. and then it wasn't even that idea anymore.

that's writing, folks

Roger Crenshaw: The Dogs at Duskfall, released in June

... which makes it ironic that the next book is one i didn't even write! r/l monroe @mortalityplays has been my friend for years, and was my editor for a long time (until he got a REAL JOB and didn't have TIME to edit anymore. sobs, cries, kicks a stone and walks into the distance). he's also always been an incredible writer, and for my birthday this year i asked him to write me something. i asked with the expectation of a little short story about our old tabletop RP characters, or a fanfic scene for one of my books he'd edited.

and then he wrote me 20,000+ words digging into the character of roger crenshaw and who he is that perfectly summed him up and tied all his stories together, such that i don't think i ever need to write another one. he did it, he wrote the perfect ending to roger. AND he did it using my favorite of his ocs from our tabletop campaign, AND there's some really hot and sweet smut in it. AND HE DID IT IN LIKE TWO WEEKS.

i loved it so much that i asked if i could illustrate and publish it as an official novella, and to my delight he agreed, and it was so so nice to collaborate with him on it. even if it meant beating our heads against the wall for 30 minutes about the placement of certain images on the page.

this was a great tragedy. i'd drawn the vagina one first, but an image earlier in the book had to be moved, which affected the placement of everything else. the vagina image had been perfectly at the start of a new page, and then suddenly it wasn't. so i had to do the penis one instead for better placement. tragic!!!

it's hard to pick a favorite scene in something written entirely, lovingly for you. how can i choose between the characters' pitch perfect semantic arguments on the nature of folk lore, the millenium princess-ass memory hopping, or the really really hot smut? i can't. i love it all. thank you r/l for being so good at what you do and writing this for me, i'll treasure it always.

The Dragon Double Feature, released in May

apparently this came out in may, and not july. i don't know why i've been convinced this came out in july. oh well i can't be bothered to insert it on top of the roger one.

anyway. THIS book. this book exists because i believe at the time i was a bit blocked, and wanted to just write SOMETHING. for a long time i've had the idea of a dragon wrecking a princess' wedding and fucking her in front of the congregation just sitting in my back pocket. it was the 'i know i could just slam this out if i wanted. i don't have to care about it it's just sex and then it's done' fallback idea, and i finally did it!

and then it was too short. i don't like the idea of publishing anything less than 10k words for full price, so i was like. okay. alright. i've always thought fucking an eastern dragon would be hot and have this other idea i was going to use for roger (back when i had an idea for every monster possible for roger), let's just write that. kenta is only kenta because i took a poll for what body type i should pair with a dragon (he was 'big boy', i think the other options were twink, older woman, and average woman). and i was also Really into the movie inu-oh at the time, which is probably obvious with kenta being a blind musician, lol.

the musician and the waterfall was tougher to write because i didn't have a clear vision of how it should end or even how they should fuck (the mechanics of fucking long noodle dragon have challenged me for years) but i'm ultimately pleased with it. it would have been a long time since i wrote something sincerely romantic, and it was nice to go back to it. i'm a HUGE romantic at heart.

both stories are pretty much one extended scene so it's hard to pick a favorite moment from them, but i will say i'm very pleased with how i approached writing the musician and the waterfall, specifically in the challenge i set myself to never use visual description kenta couldn't reasonably guess. writing from the POV of a blind man made me focus in on different senses and ways to describe them.

this book is also, as of right now, my best seller. which is great! i love that for me.

The Dragon Double Feature 2, released in July

okay i guess THIS one released in july.

anyway i got stricken with the curse with this one. a lot of people wanted me to write a sequel, but i wasn't going to. and every time i say i'm not going to do something, i end up doing it. it's so annoying. this one only happened because i wanted to write a SHORT! a SHORT extra for patreon describing kenta and wakatake's first time having sex as humans.

and then i wrote too much preamble describing their time on the beach. and then i got emotionally invested in unpacking their actual relationship, and also added a third character with mrs arakawa, and had to bring it all together into a story that was coherent and had something to say about the way they loved and ALSO ended in a THREESOME because WHATS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING A THIRD CHARACTER if they aren't all going to FUCK TOGETHER!!

it was tough. but i'm really, really happy with it in the end, and think it's one of the best things i've ever written. my favorite scene is definitely them playing with the hermit crab on the beach. metaphors babie.

the gundrid/eveline story is fine too. lmao. i NEVER PLANNED TO WRITE ANOTHER WITH THEM!! i only did it because the idea of publishing a sequel to a story from a double feature without writing a sequel to the other half of the feature was insane. and now eveline and gundrid are some of my most beloved characters, to the point of writing another book featuring them...

The Tenebrous Tower, released November

yet another book i'm pretty sure i was like 'i don't need to write this. this character doesn't work for a story on his own, what am i ever gonna do with him' and then i dumped a bunch of fantasy characters into a jar with him and suddenly i had a story. I ONLY MADE ROMICK BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW FUCKED UP WIZARD PORN AND MY ONLY OTHER OPTION WAS A GRANDPA!!!

anyway i started writing it as something to do on vacation, and it was just gonna be a bunch of dungeon bdsm vignettes until i hit on a throughline and suddenly i had a story and an emotional arc and damn i did it again. i did it again. i have a book.

i was expecting this one not to do very well because it had multiple prerequisites, but because i am a master of my craft i made sure to write it so you didn't need to read those. and then people read it without reading those. so it worked out anyway and now it's done just about as well as dragons 2. the people love romick, but they especially love the idea of him being destroyed. maybe someday. maybe someday. (except on patreon, where it's already happened)

the final vignette with the doll is, of course my favorite. i think it was a lot of people's favorites.

............................................

and that's everything i published this year! honorable mention to my novel starbuster, which i'd written most of last year, then spent all of october this year revising with the intent of finishing it, only to run out of steam by the time i was done revising it. so it's exactly where i left it last year. just better written. god it would be nice to finish that fuckin thing next year.

my goals for 2024 are, of course: release more books!! i have a big project i've been working on illustrating for the past month that i'd like to release in january, and i've also been working on a spin-off one-shot with mrs arakawa and an oni. i think this coming year i want to Try to blast through some of the one-off ideas i developed this year so they'll quit banging cowbells in my brain. like the sleeping garden. it makes me insane i never actually wrote the sleeping garden.

anyway if you actually made it to the end of this, thank you!! if you've bought all of these books, double thank you!!! i've been able to pay my rent and expenses just with my adult work this year, and it's been amazing and fun and super fulfilling. thank you for supporting me in 2023, here's to a horny 2024!!

#tt talks writing #taylor titmouse

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lakemojave · 8 months

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Good evening beloved society members, I have an announcement:

I'm announcing an end to a chapter in our group's history. After a period of time which will remain unspecified, @cryptotheism has finally escaped being trapped in my computer. They have decided this was, in their words, "pretty fucked up of me," and has stated a desire to part ways. While I will miss harnessing their vital essence to enhance my PC's performance to run bloodborne in 60 fps, I am honorbound to accept their wishes.

In all seriousness, they are taking on a lot right now. Between the book, the launch of their own twitch channel, and the return of Desperate Acts of Capitalism, we have agreed to let CT go as an official member of the LMHPS. We're still on fond terms and maybe they'll return to a stream later, but now as a special guest, not as a cohost. We sincerely wish them well with the upcoming projects, which can be found here. You can also find CT on twitch on their very own channel now, and frequently on jame's and candy's channels as well.

That's all, the rest of us will catch you on our own channels as usual! See y'all there!

#lmhps

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wasongo · 10 months

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I think I got a lot of new followers recently because twitter keeps going to shit. However, as you probably know I can't and don't post nsfw art here.

You can find my NSFW socials on my pinned post. I think a lot of people are hesitant to join platforms which aren't fully available to the public yet but if you'd like to keep up with my nsfw art I'd like to:

Urge you to visit my website and subscribe to my RSS feed for gallery updates!

Suggest you follow me on either Pillowfort or Cohost (18+).

In the last year I have started using PF and Cohost more than Mastodon, as they've implemented new features and their posting system is more in line with what I enjoy: robust tagging and filtering, ability to post MANY images, and readmores for long posts.

If you've been hesitant to join either of those platforms since you don't know what to expect here's a small-ish review of both purely from my experience as someone who: a) enjoys profile customization b) likes to have an organized art gallery that is filterable by tags.

This review is aimed at artists looking for NSFW spaces to post! UI screenshots might have suggestive terms and images. Proceed with caution.

Edit: Good grief tunglr, if you open this on the web dash the images aren't shown in the neat galleries I put them in to make the post shorter. Head on over to the permalink if you'd like a better looking post!

Let me just say that if you're looking for a review on more technical aspects of these platforms, like security and moderation policies. I'm not your guy. You'll have to look elsewhere for that. I'm focusing on QoL UI and community aspects.

Though both these platforms allow nsfw, please make sure to read their ToS/Community Guidelines for rules on what is and isn't allowed. Though as far as I'm aware they have pretty similar rules.

Pillowfort

Overview::

Pillowfort has more years under its belt being available to users than Cohost does, as such I THINK the artist/fandom userbase atm is larger, which means you might see more activity there. UI as of right now is very comfortable and the site runs pretty smoothly. Loading times are very decent. Posting is easy, though the image uploader is a little wonky (they are working on fixing this). You are able to create and manage communities based on interests or themes, which people can follow or join and all post in the same space. You can personalize your profile by adding images, links, and formatted text to your sidebar, as well as customize your own profile colors. Tag searches in my experience yield results of both art and aesthetic irl porn and gifs. If that's something you miss from ye olden tumblr days it might be worth a look.

Pros:

Posts have privacy options (everyone, logged in, followers, mutuals, only me)

Has a DM system

Posts have Commentable, Rebloggable, NSFW toggle

Can post MANY images on a single post

Readmore feature for long posts

Robust tagging system

Robust filtering system: hide or click-through warning (by installing Tassel userscript only)

Customizable profile colors, Light/Dark mode for whole website

Communities you can follow/join for shared interests

You can filter posts on profile by tag

You can filter posts on profile by "original poster" or "reblog"

Cons:

wonky image uploader, cannot upload multiple images at once

Cannot search for multiple tags at once

Search for terms with periods in them is currently broken (ex. "D.Gray-man" will not yield any search results)

Communities have few moderation features atm

Without Tassel installed the filtering system is pretty garbage atm (you can either show or hide nsfw or filtered tags completely, with no click-through warnings)

No multiple account/side blog feature yet

Some inline image formatting options are broken atm

Default endless scrolling

No progressive web app for mobile atm

For a more in depth explanation of PF's UI and features you can check out this official post.

Here are some images of the UI.

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Cohost

Overview::

Cohost feels like it has a small artist/fandom userbase at the moment. However, to make up for that it has a pretty slick UI, it works great as a progressive web app on mobile, and it recently implemented an ASK system similar to tumblr's! Everything loads pretty quickly, and you can switch between your "latest posts" feed and your "bookmarked tags" feed. You can access your likes as a bookmark system, but as a whole "notes" and engagement numbers except for comments are not visible anywhere (this is wonderful for my personal mental health). It has a simple post editor and though the image uploader only allows 4 images that will load with lightbox, there's a workaround to upload MANY inline images if you want. The catch is you'll need to use a bit of markdown or html to do that. (more on that below) Though you can't personalize your profile colors, you can add personality to your page by making very cool pinned posts and adding images to your sidebar.

Pros:

Animated avatars! (listen i like having my animated komui icon)

You can make multiple "pages" (blogs) which function independently for comments/asks. switching between pages is effortless

Ask system, with anon toggle (you cannot reply privately atm tho)

2 Factor Authentication

Progressive web app for mobile works like a charm

You can preview your post before you post it

Posts have a NSFW toggle and you can save drafts

Can post MANY images in a single post (bit of a workaround as you'll need to upload your images to a draft first and then add them to a new post with some markdown or html code)

Readmore feature for long posts

Robust tagging AND filtering system (show, click-through, hide completely), plus CW system to give your posts additional click through warnings you deem necessary

You can do incredibly cool things with HTML and inline CSS on your posts

You can filter posts on profile by tag, and you can have pinned tags

Toggles for hiding reblogs, replies, and asks on profiles

Paginated browsing instead of endless scrolling (things load faster)

No engagement numbers visible ANYWHERE

Cons:

Image uploader does not let you upload multiple images at once. Limit to 4 images (can upload more as inline images with code)

Advanced post formatting (ex. bold, italics, bullet list, inline images etc.) has to be done through markdown or html + css which is not the friendliest for those who don't know any code (there's a button for a markdown cheatsheet when you post tho!)

No dark mode, or customizing profile colors atm (however there are workarounds to changing site colors with Stylus extension)

Cannot search for multiple tags at once

Cool things you can do with CSS on your posts might look very bad on mobile

Since you can do some crazy things with CSS on posts, you might come across eye straining visuals and movement on some posts. There are settings to tone this down, and people are pretty good about tagging things, so with some good filtering you should be able to avoid this however.

A little quieter on the artist/fandom front (but we can change that)

Here are some images of the UI.

If you made it to the end of this review thanks for giving it a look! If there's something vital you might want to know that I missed in regards to UI and posting features let me know and I will try to answer. But again, this is not a technical/security issues/bugs review so don't ask me about that.

Lastly, I've been seeing a handful of NSFW artists I follow on twitter hopping on bluesky. I REALLY suggest you do a little research on the owners and platform to see if you think joining is worthwhile, since I have a feeling many artists might not want their alternative to be a site owned by crypto advocates (and also a billionaire). Some basic research will get you there. Just take heed and use your best judgement. On that note Cohost is strictly against crypto (I'm guessing PF might be too but I don't have a link that I can point you to confirming this atm).

I believe community driven and supported platforms are the way to go. If you end up thinking either of these two places are worth your time, do consider getting your friends and favorite artists on board or supporting them! You'll get added perks on both platforms if you become a supporter. PF recently added the ability to have MULTIPLE AVATARS (PFPs I think they're called nowadays) which I think is super cool (i really miss that from LJ days).

Again, thanks for reading and I hope to see some of you there!

#pillowfort #cohost

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my-ceiling-is-tilted · 2 months

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Hey, it's been a minute

Life's been busy, of course, but that's not really the reason I haven't been posting here. In case you missed it, staff have at this point confirmed that they'll be selling user data to Midjourney for use in generative ai training datasets. While I have opted out of third-party data sharing in my blog settings (and you should do that too if you haven't!!), I'm still not terribly satisfied with this platform's handling of the situation.

Tumblr has, over the last year especially, demonstrated a complete lack of care or respect for the human beings that use their site. In this light, I do not expect them to follow through on this new venture with any regard for ethics or artists. If they cannot manage to moderate poc or trans women's blogs with the respect and gravity folks deserve on such a fundamental level, I cannot imagine the pattern will suddenly shift to value any one of us over marketability and profit.

I'm considering this development the final nail in a coffin that's been pretty much built for a while now.

My art on this blog will remain up, as an archive, because I consider the damage to be done. I will not be posting additional work here in the future. My sideblog might remain active to some extent (In case staff invents more hidden switches to flip without telling anyone), but I'm disinterested in my intellectual property being farmed for content generators without my consent (which I have not given) and appropriate compensation (which I have not received).

If you like my stuff, and want to see more, I'll be over on cohost pretty much exclusively, so feel free to come say hi. There's hot new art over there that neither you, nor Midjourney, have seen from me yet.

If this is where we part ways, thank you for all the kind words, rbs, and likes over the years. tumblr was my first experiment with posting my art publicly, and while it truly sucks for things to end this way, I'm happy for the time I've spent on here, and the friends I've made along the way.

#digital art #artists on tumblr #tumblr changes #ai art #third-party sharing

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birdofprey1234 · 2 months

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Hello all. In case you've been unaware, recently tumblr has begun rolling out a partnership with Midjourney to scrape the entire website and its users' posts for their AI training. This includes peoples art, and probably also writing and photography. Anything you've posted the company may use for training, and you are opted IN by default.

Obviously this blog has been inactive for quite a while now, and no new art has been or will be posted here, but this puts me in a difficult position. I'm not sure exactly what I'm gonna do with this blog from here on. Some people have recommended editing posts to put a glaze filter over old art so that it's unusable, but I have many hundreds of posts, not all of which are tagged, and I'm unsure whether the AI training has already gotten a hold of them or not, making the potential filter useless. Not to mention the reblogs that already exist of the old un-glazed artwork.

I considered deleting everything, maybe even the blog itself, but that idea...sucks. I like the idea and the feeling that though I'm not active, my art is still out in the fandom tags somewhere, and that I have had an effect on the fandoms I was in and shared my art with. And again, the reblogs still exist, so I'm not sure what that would mean in terms of AI scraping. My worry is that deleting my blog would only relinquish any control I do have of what is done with my art.

As it is I'm kind of at a standstill. I was recently thinking over sharing my art again on other blogs, since I do miss being a part of that creative space. But now this change has kind of crushed that idea entirely. All this, plus the extreme transmisogyny apocalypse happening on here in the last month, and the seeming silencing of important movement tags like palestine, it really makes me want to ditch tumblr altogether. I've seen many people considering switching platforms. There's been a lot of markiplier mutuals specifically who have encouraged me to join cohost, I also have seen pillowfort as an option for others. But those platforms are new, kind of janky and will be hard to get used to for me. Plus, idk if I'm using them wrong but there's like...11 posts in each tag that I've seen so far, which kind of kills the feeling of being a part of a big open fan community I really love. Cohost seems like a nice platform, but if only 30-35 people move over, then it's really going to be a moot point. I wanna be where everyone else in the fandom is. I worry that this mass migration will only splinter communities, as we're all going to different places. I don't want to make 500 accounts on different platforms just to stay active and feel aware in the community.

My entire online social life up to this point has basically been on tumblr, I have a lot of blogs with a LOT of memories attached to them, and it would hurt to just drop them and move away.

Overall I'm at a loss. I enjoy sharing my work, my ideas and thoughts, I like being a part of these creative communities. But it seems like everyday the online space becomes more and more hostile toward creatives and fans, and much more advertiser friendly. One thing i never ever wanted to happen was for my art to be used for AI, and I naively thought that tumblr would be safe in that way. Guess not. I sometimes wonder if eventually all large social media will crash down and The People will dedicate to going back to personal websites and forums. I would enjoy a space where I could share my art on my own terms, and not have other peoples interaction with it overshadow everything else.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. For now I will be staying on tumblr until I figure it out, but definitely no more posting creatively. I want to try to keep my work up if I can. I would recommend on all your blogs going to settings and toggling ON "prevent third-party sharing for this blog", as that will let tumblr know you wish your work, including reblogs of it to be excluded from the scraping. I'm unsure how actually useful this will be, or how much the company will respect these wishes but. It's there. I would also love for you to come talk with me @boobookiss and, hey, maybe make a cohost account. I'm on there as boobookiss as well. I hope to keep touch with you all and see this little community stay together.

#markiplier #markiplier egos #myposts #ok to rb

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clemswinecorner · 1 year

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Sidewalk rule [Marcus Armstrong]

Summary: During Yeah Nah G'day you and the screamingmeals cohosts realize Marcus does not know what the sidewalk rule is. A TikTok for reference, in case you also don't know :)

Wordcount: 844

Warnings: none

Huge shoutout to @pinkysky-darling for the idea! Haven't posted in a while, here's little thing I wrote instead of trying to make deadlines :) Have fun!

Main Masterlist

“So I was walking with my girlfriend and as always she was on, like, you know the side of the store window, so of course she had to look at every single item,” Clem, in the middle of the couch, frowns and interrupts James. “Why as always, couldn’t you switch?” James looks to his right at the French man. “Sidewalk rule,” he casually says. “Ah yeah… Okay go on,” Marcus looks at the two, at Rory and back at the duo. “What’s the sidewalk rule?” He asks, a little in doubt whether he missed out on something. "You don’t know the sidewalk rule?" Clem asks surprised as he turns towards the Kiwi. Marcus just shakes his head as you look up from your laptop casually listening to their conversation. "Wait but I thought you did it like, all the time," James asks confused, looking at you behind the camera for confirmation as you look at the three of them with your eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah, you don’t know it?" Marcus shakes his head at you and the other guys. “How un-gentlemen like of you,” James says as Clem dramatically shakes his head. “Red flag, you should break up with him,” you chuckle. “Honestly it kind of is a red flag, maybe I should,” Marcus looks between you guys with wide eyes, still not having a clue what’s going on. He looked adorable being this clueless. “No but I think you do do it,” you say and Clem agrees, having walked with the two of you more than he can count. “I still don’t know what it is,” You chuckle before opening your mouth to explain, James immediately interrupting you. “Wait, do it in the mic,” you roll your eyes as you stand up and walk over, leaning over the couch. “So, for everyone like Marcus who doesn’t know what the sidewalk rule is, there’s two steps to it. One is that the guy, no matter what girl he’s with -whether it be his mom, friend or girlfriend or any other girl- he walks on the side of the road. So this way, when a car comes and crashes into you it will hit him first etc. And then part two, I guess, is that if you’re in a small alley or road and you can’t walk next to her, the guy always walks in front. This way he sees the danger, he gets hit first and all that jazz.”

The boys listen intently as you explain everything. “Oh, well, I actually didn’t know there was a second thing as well, I never thought about that,” James mentions as you walk out of frame again. Clem looks at him, “No I think I've seen that before. Just think it’s sort of something natural to do.” Marcus nods his head in agreement. “Yeah. I never really thought about it but like I always walk in front of you,” you smile at him as he tries to think back to whenever you were walking together. “I don’t know, I kind of always walk on the same side, I think?” He looks at you for confirmation and you hum in agreement. “Yeah I guess most times it just feels weird if I walk on the other side of, you know like my girlfriend,” He says, making a hand gesture in your direction. “I’m rarely consciously thinking ‘oh just need to make sure I’m walking on the side of the cars!’ like it just happens,” Clem smirks as he shares a look with James. “Well. That was the sidewalk rule. Anything else to share about you and your girlfriend’s disgustingly cute habits or should we round it up?” Marcus blushes at James’ statement as you softly giggle. “Weren’t you in the middle of a story?” Clem asks as he glances over at Marcus, who's smiling and biting his lip after you just made eye contact. “Yeah mate, you were talking about your girlfriend looking at every single item,” Marcus changes the subject as he lightly slaps James’ arm over Clem’s shoulder. “Right, I was.”

“Do you think they notice?” Clem asks James as they make their way to the store for some form of dinner and drinks. “What, that we’re third wheeling?” Clem chuckles at his response. “No, how pure their love is. And how oblivious Marcus is to how he’s actually romantic.” James chuckles as they look at the two of you in front of them walking closely together. "Oh, yeah, no, Y/N definitely knows," James says, Marcus looking at you like a love-sick puppy as the two of you laugh at a joke. "You think?" James nods in your direction, as you look at Marcus with a fond smile, to answer his question. "Yeah. Does he, though?" James simply shrugs. "I mean, I’d assume he’s aware that’s it’s like, real love and what not. Don’t think he knows to what extent, considering the Yeah Nah G’day," Clem laughs along as they catch up with you and Marcus in front of the store. "So, what drinks we getting?"

Taglist:

@alexk2002 / @thesatansgirl-blog / @haasterplan / @fortunatelylovingsweets / @charles-and-chelsea / @greedayag / @emmabluesky / @breals02 / @sikeyeehaw / @mariiaamr / @idontwantablogthanks / @agirlwithmidnightthoughts / @zira44 / @adore-u-ls / @starcandy-y / @louisaamz / @langdonsluxiouslocks / @leclercswhore / @clearavenuementality / @wilmasvensson / @vxlesunflower / @shewatchesf1 / @ashf1 / @idkiwantchocolatee / @minl0u

like or comment under this post to be added to my taglist!

#marcus armstrong #marcus armstrong x reader #indycar #indycar x reader #formula 2 x reader #i'm going to keep tagging f2 because its easier to reach target audience lol #screaming meals

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bitternest · 6 months

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/rubs eyes it's seven am who gets up at 7am

People who get dinged repeatedly about Tumblr shutting down apparently.

Christ on a bike. Okay, long post inbound. On Tumblr's fate, enshittification and navigating the post-web2.0 world.

So I've been meaning to make a post like this for a while now, but because tech is literally my job I... haven't.

First off, Tumblr isn't being shut down. It's being put on legacy support. Maybe one day it will be shut down, but Automattic seems to have the costs dialed in and don't seem to want to nuke it. Yay.

This day was always going to come for one simple reason - social media websites are fundamentally impossible to fund. The cost of that much image and video hosting and bandwidth is not scalable without passing that cost over to the user. In most cases, this is done by making the user the product. But this is non-sustainable. As Tumblr discovered, as Twitter is discovering and as Google Has Ordained, that social media will inevitably be censored and restricted at the whim of the people actually paying - advertisers. And then your users stop caring. Some sites get around this by also robbing you of your dopamine production as well as your privacy - i.e. getting you engaged with their Algorithm.

So, enough with the reasoning, what can you do about this. Well, you can try the next big thing. For many people, that's bluesky. I don't know about you, but I don't think highly of Twitter 2.0 - from the dude who couldn't make Twitter profitable the first time around. And to be clear, its sole goal is to be profitable. It's a corporation. That's... it's purpose. It's purpose is to extract wealth.

For me, the only two vaguely viable options are cohost and the fediverse. Cohost because haha palette-swapped Tumblr but also because the core ideas the founders had are neat and resonate with me.

And the fediverse because that's the only technologically viable way forward for what we've come to expect social networks to be. It is a network in the real sense, an interconnected sprawl of self-hosted servers that individuals or communities are responsible for and the best way to deal with the costs of social media - distributing them. Mastodon is the most famous service in this space, but there are others. Explaining the fediverse outside of "a network of social networks" is beyond the scope of this post and is a real issue with adoption because, no, it's not necessarily easy.

But now we get to the real crux of my post:

The resilient things aren't easy. If you want to build and participate in something lasting, you need to do some hard things. Sometimes that's learning what the fuck @[email protected] is supposed to mean. Sometimes it's learning how to read an RSS feed. For artists it can mean learning to set up your own website, with zero code and for free even! (sorry @varethane, i'll get the post up eventually) For tech people it means finding an IRC (what, you think Slack is gonna survive its own enshittification?).

Frequently, it's learning how to back up your posts. Because no matter the site, the day will come when hosting 20 billion jpegs overtakes the cash flow of shiny rainbow crabs.

It is a requirement of the post-web2.0 world that you become more tech-savvy. As we tire of corporate horseshit, we must become more capable of forging our own way. If you want to stay connected, you need to learn how to make and maintain those connections, both social and technological.

And to not end this post on a somber and self-important note, that mastodon id isn't me - I never joined because no server ever appealed to me. If anyone's got suggestions I'm listening. I'm bitternest on cohost as well. Mutuals can DM me for my Discord.

Miss me with those bluesky invites tho

#tumblr #cohost #bluesky #mastodon #fediverse #tumblr shutting down

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fayesdiary · 2 months

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I'm going to be entirely honest: after everything that's happened these past few days and the fact it's very likely going to get even worse, I'm making preparations to bail out of Tumblr.

I still haven't decided on what social and art plaform I want to migrate to yet, but I am working on a way to keep in touch with my closest friends and mutuals on Discord when the time comes. It won't be the best approach, but we're gonna have to make due if you're willing to join.

I'm going to miss this website, really. I had a lot of fun and made a lot of friends here. But if nothing changes, if trans, black, Palestinian people and so on keep getting silenced and harassed in-and-out of the so-called queerest, most inclusive place on the Web and all of my text posts and art is likely to be stolen and fed to an AI, then I don't want to be here anymore. Besides, I've already been terminated without warning once, so who's to say it won't happen again?

I'll still be here while my blogs are in the process of being exported and I decide the socials I'll be on in case you've grown attached to me enough to follow me there, and at that point I'll likely stop activity in all of my blogs.

I'll miss you. I hope we can meet somewhere else.

Edit: Finally finished preparing my new social profiles! So if you wanna follow me there, here you go:

Pillowfort

Bluesky

Cohost

Cara

I'm not sure which one I'm gonna stick with yet, but I guess time will tell.

(No Mastodon for now, sorry. It sounds way too complicated.)

And who knows, if Tumblr staff actually keeps its promise of improving moderation and actually protect minorities from harassment I might come back here full time. Here's hoping!🙏

Edit 2: THE AI DEAL HAS BEEN CONFIRMED. I am absolutely going to bail now, sorry not sorry. You know where to find me from now on.

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jesncin · 5 months

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I'm thinking of writing up some media crit essays here (or on cohost as I've already done a few there) because story analysis and review is just what I like doing! And with the DC fixation I'm on I've been itching to write some thoughts. An impressionistic list of topics:

Ma'alefa'ak character retrospective, all his different iterations and how his character evolved in recent years. I feel his character is easily dismissed as "the messed up cultist" but it's more complicated than that! I might have to watch YJ to make this a thorough retrospective though,,,

Asian Lois Lane retrospective! A comparative study of the 3 times Lois has been asian in media (maws, american alien, girl taking over) and how effectively cultural identity is considered in each reimagining. I don't really see much Asian perspective on these takes of Lois, so I think it's valuable to share my perspective here! Asian Lois Lane means so much to me,,,

An analysis on the depiction of race in MAWS. I had a fairly thorough conclusion on my thoughts over how characters of color are handled in MAWS in my insta story review, but there are details I completely missed out on that I feel is still worthy of discussing! Especially in regards of the optics of Superman being reimagined as a redeemed colonizer. And Thanksgiving. Something about Thanksgiving.

Yeah that's my brainstorm for now! If you want a taste of how I write these things, have a sample! "Lois Lane, Power Girl, and the fear of exceptional women" is up on cohost~ I just like writing, fellas. It wakes my brain up

#ramblings #jesncin talks maws #the need to ramble about fictional characters but in a well structured essay/review kind of way #i luv media crit it's my bread and butter to go into detail about fiction

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innocence-wont-save-you · 2 months

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OOC: Migration Notice

I hate to do this so soon after I just came back to IWSY, but with the recent developments of what Tumblr staff has been doing, I've honestly had enough. If you missed it, the basic rundown is that the CEO of Tumblr, photomatt, has been personally targeting, harassing, and threatening to call the cops and the FBI on a trans woman. This is the last straw for me in a long string of fuck ups from Tumblr staff, and I'm moving operations off of Tumblr. I'm going to finish up Status Update 13 here, but future updates will no longer be on this blog.

That isn't to say that IWSY is shutting down for good. I've made an account on Cohost, but I'm still learning the new site and figuring out how things work. If Scene 14 starts before I've finished setting things up, it will be temporarily run over at the official website for IWSY. This is, for the record, the ultimate goal for the website: To function as a non-account dependent way to witness and engage in the story being told. But for now, IWSY is migrating to Cohost while I learn javascript and figure out how to add commenting functions. You don't need an account to read Cohost posts, thankfully, but you will need an account to interact there, just like on Tumblr. You can also join the official Discord server for IWSY as an alternative.

This blog will stay up and the pinned post will probably be periodically updated, but after this I imagine this will be converted purely into an ask blog that isn't canon to IWSY's events. Thank you for sticking around for this story, and I hope you'll continue to keep up with the gameplay. If not, the AO3 version will always continue updating.

#innocence won't save you #i would say a few choice words but i'd not like to get this blog nuked prematurely

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gatheringfiki · 4 months

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The following ficlet was written by @marigoldvance based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, T.

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

By Any Other Name…

—

Long-haul freight trucking isn’t for everyone. Days, sometimes weeks, away from home; a lot of gas station coffee, leaky motel rooms, and diners with sticky floors and dead-eyed waitresses whose smiles reflect lifetimes of missed opportunities.

Fíli fell into it after uni.

Unlike the majority, he loves his time on the road. Appreciates the peace the job offers. Of course, he misses his loved ones when he’s away for lengths of time, but he’s always been a bit of a hermit. He’s better at listening than engaging, which is perhaps why he considers the radio perfect company.

In particular, a mid-morning radio show that he maybe-sort of-but not really schedules his day around.

“—And that was Last Christmas by Wham!. Sorry to those of you who almost made it this year!” The DJ cackles, not sorry at all. “Better luck next year.”

“You’re a menace.” The cohost snorts before introducing the next song, something from the Top 40 to keep things moving.

Kíli Oaks is an incredible radio personality who makes the time pass quickly. Fíli deeply enjoys listening to Kíli’s show whenever it’s on, be it when he’s hauling freight or at home in his kitchen. And while it could be said that harboring a crush on a celebrity is a waste of energy, Fíli is content to indulge it.

His mother worries his interest in Kíli Oaks is hindering his chance of finding someone, “what with dedicating your attention to a disembodied voice.”

It’s a point of contention between them, but Díssandra Durin is a good mum and does her best to be supportive.

Exhibit A:

“Doesn’t that man on the radio live in Pelargir?” She asked Fíli before he left.

“And?”

She shrugged as if to say not that it matters, but “Aren’t you going to Pelargir?”

“Mum, even if I lived near the radio station, the chances of ever meeting him are slim to none.” Fíli said, trying to keep his tone light despite it being the third time she’d made a remark of that nature.

“You never know.”

“Trust me, ma, I know. It would be weird, wouldn’t it?” Not that Fíli was angling for an answer. Of course it would be weird.

“Or it could be a funny story you tell your kids one day.”

Fíli eyed his mother suspiciously, “Or it could be a traumatic story he tells the police.”

He expected her to drop the issue but, instead, she jutted her chin toward the coffee table and said, “Either way, that’s for you.” and carried on knitting as if she didn’t just blow the top of Fíli’s head off with surprise.

Fíli’s stomach clenches in excitement, glancing at the envelope on the dashboard.

While his mother doesn’t endorse his crush on Kíli, she found out about a Christmas special Kíli and his cohost are putting on to raise money for a Christmas charity. In front of a live audience.

An audience Fíli now has a ticket to be a member of.

He doesn’t know how she did it, considering Kíli has more fans than there were tickets (the show sold out in minutes after the tickets went live), but Fíli’s infinitely grateful.

He listens as Kíli reads a listener’s text aloud, adding an anecdote of his own before both he and his cohost dissolve into fits of breathless, soundless laughter.

“—That’s not what I said!” Kíli wheezes after his cohost accuses him of defiling a snowman.

Their producer urges them along, trying to herd the chaos into something manageable but Kíli and his cohost keep bantering.

“Boys,” The producer says sternly, “The next song, please.”

Fíli imagines Kíli wipes the tears from his eyes and composes himself, “Right, right, right,” It seems that what’s cued to play isn’t what Kíli expects because he barks another laugh, “Nooo!’

His cohost squeezes the title of the next song out between giggles, “Here’s Snowman by Sia.” And off they go again, their laughter cut off as the song starts to play.

Fíli grins like an idiot, as if he’s part of the silliness. The adolescent, world is my oyster, everything is possible part of him would love to exchange funny stories with Kíli, watch him laugh until his eyes are glassy, cheeks ruddy and wet. The realistic, adult part of Fíli understands that such things can only happen by divine intervention. Which, in his experience, doesn’t actually exist.

Thus, he’ll go to the show, have a good laugh, respectably ogle Kíli from afar, and then end his evening reading over a cup of mulled wine.

Brilliant.

***

“He’s so … sad.”

“Are you sure he isn’t too—” Finding the correct words to say ‘serial killer’ without actually saying ‘serial killer’ is difficult. “—antisocial?” Is just as bad, really, but better than ‘maladaptive’ or ‘socially awkward’.

A long, tired groan sounds from between the other two voices. “Don’t either of you have anything else to do?”

“No.” The first two voices say in unison.

Meet Divine Intervention.

Thranduil peers into the Palantír, silvery hair curtaining his expression, though Gandalf guesses it’s one of disdain. Thranduil has a type; usually six-foot-four and Doriathen, with yodeling accents and donning colorful knitwear.

By contrast, Fíli Durin is a combination of broad strokes and blunt shapes, and a penchant for more subdued seasonal layers.

“He isn’t too far away, is he, Gandalf?” Radagast wonders, hovering over Gandalf’s shoulder to watch Fíli’s image in the milky glass, “Will he make it on time?”

“If you two leave me to my work, I can see to it that he does.” Gandalf puts as much emphasis behind his words as he can muster around the bit of his pipe.

Thranduil and Radagast are deliberately trying to sabotage Gandalf’s progress, he’s certain. It isn’t his fault he has the reputation of casting some of the most intricate and everlasting Tapestries—or as Belinda from HR, in an attempt to rebrand the realm into the 21st Age, calls them: Love Stories.

Gandalf puffs his pipe grouchily at the idea.

As long as there have been a moon and stars, there have been Weavers tasked with the choosing and care of the roses from Lorien’s garden. Each rose contains within its petals a communion, some more momentous than others, but all serving a significant purpose in the lives of those selected to sustain them. A Weaver’s sole responsibility is to match a pair worthy of a rose’s influence and have them meet before the final petal falls. If things go well, the rose blooms anew, radiant and golden, until the span of the—Gandalf shudders—Story is complete.

Otherwise…

Well, nothing happens. Some roses aren’t meant to be epic tales worthy of Shakespearean prose, mild in colour and force. Other roses burn too bright and fizzle out before a Weaver can say Tom Bombadil. It depends partially on the rose and partially on the Weaver’s capabilities.

And Gandalf’s capabilities far exceed those of many Weavers, a fact highlighted by the shelves of thriving roses encases in their glass cloches.

He has full confidence that the pair he selected are absolutely perfect for each other.

Fíli may be content in his aloneness, but he is strong and patient and has so much love to give. And Kíli? Kíli is—

***

“You’re being obnoxious, Kee.” Boromir says, slingshotting another rubberband at Kíli’s forehead.

It hits with a dry snap and falls into the mounting pile in Kíli’s lap, leaving behind a blossoming red spot right between his eyebrows.

“Am not!” Kíli wails through a wide smile, gathers all the rubberbands and lobs them in Boromir’s general direction.

He isn’t. He’s being prudent; a word his grandmother would never use to describe him, but there he is, being just that. Someone’s future happiness rests entirely in the palm of his hand and he will not risk ruining it.

“You are.” Boromir insists, ignoring their producer, Merry, as he frantically signals for Kíli to prepare for the interlude. “You’ve got that glassy-eyed look you get after a good shag.”

“I don’t like that you know that about me.”

Boromir bobs his head in consensous, “Nor do I.”

And they’re back on air. Kíli dutifully lists the titles of the songs they just played and introduces the next queue, promises he and Boromir will return for their typical Wednesday slot of Say It or Spray It—a game their old producer concoted to embarrass the shit out of Kíli on his first day hosting the midmorning show.

Needless to say, it had only fueld Kíli’s fire, and look at him now, several years later and a staple at GBC Radio 1.

As soon as their mics are muted again, Kíli whips out his phone, presses his thumb to the print verification button and opens his professional TikTok account.

Boromir rolls his eyes.

Kíli sticks out his tongue.

“See?” Boromir points toward Kíli with his hand, “Obnoxious.”

Kíli scrolls past hundreds of unread DMs to the thread he’s revisited about forty times in the last hour, swipes through the thread until he reaches the picture attached.

It’s of a man, close to Kíli’s age. Kissable lips swept into a gentle smile, square shoulders and a barrel chest accentuated by the thin, visibly loved band t-shirt worn when the picture was taken. A candid shot at what appears to have been a cookout, hinted to by the long twig he’s hold with a marshmallow speared through the tip.

He’s handsome—very handsome—exactly the sort of bloke Kíli topples head-over-heels for.

“Your love life is so tragic that someone’s mum is taking pity on you.” Boromir teases, nudging Kíli’s foot with the tip of his shoe.

Kíli wants to sling a comeback at him, but finds he can hardly disagree. Besides, Kíli wouldn’t mind taking the man’s mum up on the offer.

Tragically, she isn’t offering.

She messaged Kíli hoping to get a ticket to Kíli and Boromir’s live audience Christmas special. When Kíli asked his producer about available tickets, he was stunned to discover they’d sold out faster than a Taylor Swift concert.

“We reserved some for family, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Merry told him.

Kíli replied to the woman, Dís Durin she called herself, with the good news, happy to offer one of his personal tickets to Dís’—very handsome—son, Fíli.

“You’ve got that goofy look on your face again.” Boromir announces. “New update on your boyfriend?”

“Naff off.” Kíli kicks Boromir’s shin under the table. Boromir oufs in surprise, fixes his face into a glare and retaliates by swatting the top of Kíli’s head.

“Don’t start, you two, the song’s almost over.” Merry warns, crossing his arms sternly. He slants his gaze toward Kíli, “But Boromir has a point, Kee, you might want to work on that dopey face you make before you meet him. Bit unattractive.”

“Oi!”

***

Draped across Gandalf’s armchair, where he retreated when he and Radagast were shooed away from the Palantír, Thranduil indicates to Kíli, “I like that one, he has passion.” Then he slides a bored glance back to Fíli, “All that one does is drive around in a big truck.”

“He must have something up his sleeve,” Radagast says in defense of Gandalf as if he’s not there to do it for himself. “The old rascal wouldn’t risk losing.” That is, the bet Gandalf made with Elrond, a Spindler from the third floor who specializes in forks in the road.

A bet made because, to be frank, Weaving loses its charm after a Weaver’s third millennia performing the task. Sometimes, they need incentive, and high-stakes gambling is the motivation Gandalf requires to ensure he doesn’t wilt a rose into lost opportunity.

“Quite right.” Gandalf lifts his chin proudly and reprimands Thranduil, “How dare you question my artistic process.”

Thranduil meets his stare flatly. “So,” He says, his tone suspiciously matter-of-fact, “All he has to do is get to Pelargir by the strike of 6?”

“Yes.” Gandalf says cautiously.

“Very good. And how exactly do you plan to get him there through an avalanche?”

Gandalf whips his head back to the Palantír, alarmed. Although an avalanche is a mighty exaggeration, the scene unfolding in the glass isn’t much better. Wiggling his fingers in a rapid, deliberate pattern, Gandalf hunches over the Palantír with fierce concentration.

Fíli’s truck rumbles merrily along in the cloudy image to the left. In the image to the right is an unholy dumping of snow. Fíli’s still far enough away that Gandalf has time to maneuver a solution, but the window is narrow.

The situation may require—

Thranduil and Radagast watch Gandalf intently, look at each other and then back to Gandalf.

Slowly, his face set in determination, Gandalf raises from the ether a shovel with a wide, metal blade.

—Drastic. Action.

***

The trouble starts just as Fíli leaves Minas Tirith. Snow falls in sheets, thick and sticky, forcing Fíli to slow his speed and call Central.

“I stayed ahead of it for awhile,” Fíli explains of the weather, “But it finally caught up to me.”

Bofur snorts, “Guess that luck of yours is finally running out, ay Durin?”

“Not a chance. Just a little bit of delay. I’ll still make it by this evening.” Fíli reassures, “Just let them know, yeah?”

“I’m on it. Drive safe, lad!”

Fíli smiles, “Cheers.” and disconnects the call.

Unfortunately, Bofur might’ve been right about Fíli’s luck running out.

Things get worse by Aglarshire, a road closure forcing Fíli to take the exit into town for an impromptu break. After eight hours at the wheel, he’s due one anyway, but he’d hoped to get as far as Karaborough before making the stop.

The snow is really coming down now, and the townships between Minas Tirith and Pelargir aren’t equipped to handle removal like the big cities.

Still, Fíli tries to stay positive.

Almari’s café serves the best stew and crusty bread this side of the White Horns. Almari herself is the motherly sort; a short woman of stout figure and a kind face, somehow able to discern what Fíli needs as soon as he steps through the door.

The café is quiet apart from two men arguing about livestock. A traditional, rustic ambiance of dark wood and brass accents, mismatched tables rubbed in places of their stain and chairs that creak when occupied. An impressive oak bar stretches the length of the wall across from the entrance, hosting a row of tall stools with worn leather seats.

From where she’s polishing silverware, Almari indicates with a blunt knife to a snug corner at one end of the bar. Fíli obliges, pinching off his gloves on the way. He has to remove his coat to sidle between the wall and the counter, and plants himself on the lone stool at an awkward angle before he can maneuver his legs under the bar. Once he’s situated, he turns to hang his coat on the hook above his left shoulder.

It’s a questionable fit, but the space offers a sense of cozy privacy; just what he needs to settle his nerves after driving through nasty weather.

Almari appears and sets a steaming cup of strong coffee in front of him, smiles warmly, and pats his forearm with the affection of an old friend.

“Bit nippy out there.” She says, brushing snow from his beard with the towel she’d been using to polish the silverware. “Wouldn’t go out there for all the money in the world.”

“It’s not so bad.” Fíli assures, “At least it’s not icy.”

Almari looks skeptical, “I’m just happy I don’t have far to go when I close up.” Her apartment being directly above the café. “Would be a nightmare trying to find my car after all this snow.”

Fíli agrees. “A real archeological dig, ay?”

Almari considers him sympathetically for a moment before she breaks the news Fíli feared when he was redirected toward Aglarshire. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. The plows might not get to our neck of the woods for awhile yet.”

Fíli’s heart leaps to his throat, but he arranges his features into a neutral guise. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Almari straightens and smooths down her apron. “The usual, then?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Never, when it comes to you, boy.” Almari leans over the bar again and pinches Fíli’s cheek softly. Then off she sweeps into the kitchen, barking Fíli’s order to the cook, Randolf, her husband of thirty years.

Fíli glances outside, brow knitted. He can hardly see the road through the curtain of snow. He slips a hand in the kangaroo pocket of his sweater and gently holds the envelope he tucked in there for safe keeping, contemplating his options.

At best, he’ll be late. At worst, he’ll miss Kíli’s show altogether and have to apologize to his mother for money wasted. Not that she’ll mind. Nah, she’ll probably take it as a sign from the cosmos that Fíli needs to plant his attention in reality.

No sense fretting, Fíli resolves and fishes his book from his coat pocket.

Whatever happens, happens.

…And say it again, with feeling.

Fíli huffs through his nose, molars grinding, and flips his book open to where he left off.

***

This is wholly unorthodox, Weavers traveling through the curtain into Arda, but Gandalf’s mind is made up. Why Thranduil and Radagast join him, he doesn’t know, their motivations none of his concern.

They land as a unit, dropping like stones into the snow from above. Gandalf and Radagast disappear for a moment beneath the plush white, while Thranduil’s head and shoulders pierce the snow, his long, dainty legs the only bit of him now visible to the world.

Gandalf and Radagast pop up, pull themselves free and brush themselves off. Thranduil’s legs kick frantically before either notice he’s stuck. Together, they yank Thranduil free and resume orienting themselves, scanning their surroundings for anything that can help them on their journey.

“Aha!” Gandalf sees it first, the depot the town uses to house their massive machines.

“That’s what you have in mind?” Thranduil sounds incredulous, “I thought we shelved your idea to shovel three hundred kilometersofroad.”

Radagast wrings his hands, worried for Gandalf’s sanity.

“Not shovelling,” Gandalf corrects with a wicked glint in his eye, “Plowing.”

“Oh my…” Radagast squeaks, as Thranduil erupts, “You cannot possibly think that’s a better solution! You’ve never even used one of those ghastly contraptions!”

Gandalf waves him off, “How hard could it be?” and trudges forward, carving a path for Radagast and Thranduil to follow.

As it turns out, it’s incredibly hard. For three whimsical beings of the Otherlands, anyway.

Once they locate the right machine, one boasting a large, yawning blade at its front, they struggle to bring it to life. Gandalf and Radagast fiddle with levers and buttons, pressing and pulling things at random.

“What about this one?”

“No, no, no, it must be this one.”

“Or this one.”

Thranduil rolls his eyes, content not to participate. No, he’s a being of acute intelligence and has a better idea than pushing and prodding everything like toddlers in an elevator.

Without saying a word, he marches toward what a sign specifies is the Main Office. He enters and slips behind the front desk to study a corkboard filled with rows of keys, all labeled neatly for convenience.

At least these Gondorian neanderthals are organized, he muses.

It takes less than a minute for him to locate the right key. Just as he wraps his fingers around it—

“Hey! Who are you!?” A man shaped like a star demands. He’s round in the middle and thin everywhere else with a head of stringy black hair. The stench of self-importance radiating from him suggests to Thranduil he’s the one in charge of the fleet of machines.

Thranduil groans dramatically, completely put-off by the whole situation, “Well, shit.” In a calculated act of defense, he grabs the computer off the front desk and brings it down on the man’s head.

He crumples into a heap instantly.

Thranduil takes the right key, steps over the man elegantly, and marches back to Gandalf and Radagast.

***

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” Almari tells him, watching through the snow the silhouette of a snowplow thunder down the road at speed. She frowns, “Can’t always believe what they tell you on the news, can you?”

“‘Spose not,” Fíli chuckles, fishing a Ꞓ201 note from his wallet and dropping it on the bar. “I’d better be off.” He shrugs on his coat, flashing a bright smile at Almari, “Thanks for lunch, it was delicious as ever.”

“Stop in on your way back.” Almari instructs, “I’ve a special Christmas menu that I think you’ll enjoy.”

Fíli nods, walking backward a few steps, “Will do.” He salutes playfully then spins around and pushes through the door. The wind and snow hit him like a brick wall, almost forcing him backward. Thankfully, he’s made of stronger stuff, and shoulders his way toward his truck.

Though the road has been cleared, the car park is still covered in a blanket of white that reaches halfway to Fíli’s knees. Not ideal, Fíli thinks, but doable. If he leaves now, he’ll make it to Pelargir and complete his delivery by early evening, as intended with the mild delay.

He only hopes things go smoothly from here.

***

Kíli squints against the stage lights, but it’s impossible to distinguish anyone in the audience. Both he and Boromir are already in their places, microphones adjusted to their preferences, muted until the broadcast starts.

He kept an eye out for Fíli while backstage, peeking into the auditorium as often as Merry would allow (which wasn’t often, between frog marching Kíli to hair and makeup, and debriefing Kíli and Boromir on their lineup of special guests and the playlist).

Never in a million years did Kíli think he would be this dedicated to making a fan happy. Usually, that’s PRs job, fussing over giftbags and food boxes, when and where fans can meet the DJs, and so on. This time, Kíli forced his involvement, questioning Rosie about Fíli’s seating arrangement and whether or not he’ll receive a one-on-one with Kíli after the show ends.

Rosie massaged her temples, said in a clipped tone, “Kíli, please, let me do my job.”

“I just—”

She raised her hands in a gesture parents use to calm their children, “I understand this is important to you, but just worry about the show. I’ve taken care of everything. Your guest will be treated like royalty, just like the other invitees, alright?”

Kíli swallowed and nodded shortly, “Alright.”

Now, he fiddles with the ungodly Christmas blazer wardrobe forced him into. The pattern is bright green-and-red plaid embroidered with sparkly gold thread. Beneath he wears a thin sweater in a crisp white with the image of a fluffy Christmas tree on the front, and, under that, a red, collared shirt.

Boromir dons an equally as gaudy combination, though he seems far less uncomfortable, sprawled in his chair like a king at a feast, texting his wife who sits in the audience only meters away.

“Two minutes.” Merry announces, coming up to them. “You two ready?”

“Yes.” Boromir says at the same time Kíli says, “No.”

“Well, pull it together, man,” Merry insists as he grabs a handheld microphone and prepares to deliver his welcome introduction to the audience. “Don’t forget to smile!” He urges, tracing an exaggerated U over his mouth with his forefingers, before trotting to the front of the stage and signalling to the sound booth.

“Mate, you’ve never been nervous a day in your life.” Boromir reminds Kíli, “You’ve got this.” He reaches forward and squeezes Kíli’s shoulder. “Right?”

“Right.” Kíli says and, for the first time since he started a career in radio, he doesn’t believe it.

***

After abandoning the wreckage of the snowplow in a ditch for the town to deal with, Gandalf, Thranduil and Radagast stomp through the door of Gandalf’s office, dusting snow off their shoulders and shaking it out of their hair.

“That was the worst thing you’ve ever done.” Thranduil says, plopping into the armchair. “I can’t believe we weren’t killed.”

“Close enough,” Radagast winces, rubbing the lump at the back of his head.

Gandalf grins, pleased with himself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Fine and well,” Thranduil flaps a hand toward the Palantír, “But what about that? You want to plow through a bunch of civilians, too?”

Deflating, Gandalf watches the image shift from Fíli’s truck to the kilometers of bumper-to-bumper traffic heading into Pelargir. Construction lights and road signs herd cars into one of five lanes, the other four closed for repaving.

Because of fucking course it is.

“He’s not going to make it,” Radagast laments, hand over his heart. “Even after all we’ve done…”

“Mmm.”

Thranduil pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but: you are aware there’s a whole city and many hours of night at your fingertips, yes?”

Gandalf stares at him inquisitively, inviting Thranduil to continue, “They don’t need to meet at the show.”

Radagast brightens, “They don’t need to meet at the show!”

“I’m surprised how much you care.” Gandalf admits to Thranduil. “I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.”

“Oh, shut up. I just don’t want to see you lose your bet. Elrond is insufferable enough as it is.” He amends and stands, holding out a hand for Gandalf to take, “Now, let’s see this shitshow through to the end, shall we?”

“Indeed.”

***

Fíli didn’t make it.

The traffic into the city was worse than Fíli’s ever experienced in all his days hauling freight. It crawled ahead by inches for close to two hours, during which Fíli listened to the Christmas special with a broken heart.

He knows better now than to get his hopes up about this sort of thing. Not that he expected much out of the evening, at most an autograph or a handshake.

Still…

Fíli shakes his head, hellbent on turning the night around.

The delivery successful, albeit an hour later than scheduled, he takes the underground downtown and roams the busy streets. Pelargir looks like something out of a Hallmark movie, glittering under strings of gold and coloured lights. Storefronts are decorated with garland and baubles and tinsel, all arranged to evoke Christmas cheer.

It works, the chill of dismay lifting ever-so-slightly from Fíli’s chest.

Fíli plucks his way through the bustling crowd, keeping an eye out for somewhere to eat. He’s decided to treat himself to something fancier than he’s used to. Somewhere with cloth napkins and unique cutlery for each dish.

He spends twenty minutes wandering up and down the maze of streets, reading menu displays and peeking in windows at restaurant floors crammed with guests. Turning another corner, Fíli’s just about to throw in the towel and find the nearest fast-food joint when he, quite literally, stumbles upon a small sidewalk a-frame that’s chalk lettering promises Festive Fancies Within.

Fíli scans the area, hoping that no one saw him trip over the sign, and sets it to rights.

It’s as good a place as any, less busy than everywhere else, though still hosting a fair amount of people. Fíli is greeted by a cheerful looking older gentleman with twinkly grey eyes and a beard to match.

“How many?” The gentleman inquires.

“Just me.”

“Ah, for one. I can only offer a seat at the bar, I’m afraid. Though, rest assured, the service is exceptional.”

Fíli shrugs, already unwrapping his scarf and shoving his gloves in his coat pocket. “Suits me just fine.” He says and allows the gentleman to escort him to a seat near the middle of the bar.

The bartender casts him a smile, indicating he’ll be right with him, and continues to expertly shake and prepare multiple drinks at a time. Fíli watches the bartender pour the contents of one shaker into a chilled martini glass with a flourish, while bouncing another shaker from his elbow into his hand before emptying it into a rocks glass filled with a single, large cube of ice.

Fíli doesn’t bother to hide his awe, never having been anywhere the bartenders perform tricks. It’s obvious the bartender appreciates Fíli’s open admiration since he slides Fíli a drink with three discernable layers— seasonal red, white, and green—in a tall glass, garnished with a spear of dark cherries and lime, and a sugar-frosted rim.

“Thank you.” He says when the bartender approaches to drop a menu in front of him.

“My pleasure.” The bartender smirks, “Just signal me when you’re ready to order.” And off he swans, plucking a long chit from the machine behind the bar and filling its order in an intricate series of movements not unlike a ballet.

***

Kíli feels like he’s being followed. He’s not unfamiliar with the sensation. Since being on the radio and hosting a handful of televised events, a few enthusiastic encounters occurred on behalf of fans. Normally, he invites the adoration, wanting to accommodate those who support his career; they’re responsible for his success, after all.

Tonight, however, he’s not in the mood.

He wasn’t expecting to feel such crushing disappointment when Rosie informed him after the show that Fíli hadn’t been in the audience. The show itself was a resounding success, deserving of the standing ovation it received when the broadcast ended.

Only, Kíli can’t bring himself to be proud. He was looking forward to meeting Fíli, had a plan to invite him out for a drink—maybe a meal—get to know the man whose mother loves him so much, she’d slipped into Kíli’s DMs.

The tingling at his nape increases, the feeling of being followed morphing into something ominous.

Not wanting to be axe-murdered, Kíli picks up his pace, striding around a corner as quick as he can without drawing attention to himself. As he’s about to break into a full-out run, he trips and crashes into a restaurant a-frame, ill-placed in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What the shit!” He cries, hurrying back to his feet. It’s then that he notices a crooked figure rounding the corner. “Vala—” He bolts up the cobblestone path to the door of the restaurant and practically falls inside.

There are a fair few people (witnesses, Kíli thinks, relieved) conversing over expensive looking meals and bottles of wine. The place has an old-world charm about it, stone walls and exposed beams, the waiters donning bowties and polished shoes.

“Hello.” The host greets him, startling Kíli.

“Hi!” He chokes out. The host looks ancient, sort of wizardlike. “Hi, yes, sorry.” He tries again, surreptitiously glancing behind him to see if the crooked figure has followed him inside.

The doorway is empty.

“For one, please.”

The host picks up a menu, “The bar is open for full-service, tonight,” he explains, “Unfortunately our tables are reserved for parties of two or more.”

“Sounds great,” Kíli follows the host to the end of the bar, unzipping his leather jacket and pulling off his scarf. He’s so focused on getting himself sorted that he doesn’t notice the bartender delivering a pint of Guiness he didn’t order until a coaster is placed in front of him.

Kíli’s about to say something when the bartender, a dazzling man with silvery hair, informs him, “From the gentleman at the end.” and hooks his thumb over his shoulder in the direction he’s referring to.

“Oh,” Kíli slopes to the side to see around the bartender and his jaw drops. “Oh…!”

He can’t believe it. There, sitting alone, slouched over a book that has his full concentration, is Fíli Durin. Kíli can’t help the airy laugh he lets out and quickly gathers his jacket and scarf.

“Thank you,” He says to the bartender, who sports an oddly conspiratorial grin, “I’m just going to—yeah.” In his excitement, Kíli almost forgets his pint, grabs it at the last second, and scurries—not too eagerly, lest he present himself as a wanker—to fill the vacant seat beside Fíli.

Fíli, so enraptured by his book, doesn’t notice.

Kíli clears his throat, “Um, hi there.”

Fíli’s head jerks up, eyes wide, and slowly turns to face Kíli, face slackening into pure shock. Kíli’s heart is in his throat, palms suddenly clammy. Fíli is more handsome in person than in the picture Dís sent.

“I—you don’t mind, do you?” He asks about the seating arrangement.

Fíli blinks, seeming to come back to himself, “No. No, please, go ahead.”

“You’re Fíli. Fíli Durin, right?”

Visibly confused, Fíli answers slowly, “Um, yes. How did you—?“

Kíli cuts in quickly to avoid being mistaken for a stalker. “—Your mum sent me a message a few days ago.”

He’s never seen anyone look so delicious when processing the shock and horror of a mother’s good intentions. Fíli makes it work.

“Oh, Mahal, she didn’t.” Fíli drops his head into his hands, his broad shoulders shaking as he chuckles through the embarrassment.

“I thought it was adorable.” Kíli admits and catches Fíli’s gaze, holding it for a few seconds before casting his eyes downward.

Fíli barks a laugh, a sound that sends a jolt of heat to Kíli’s gut, “You did not.”

“I did!” Kíli shifts closer to Fíli and winks, “I really appreciated the picture she sent, too. I didn’t know Nibin Noeg had any fans left after their last album.”

They banter back and forth; the way Kíli doesn’t know Fíli always imagined they would. The conversation swells and eases by turns, the two slowly losing themselves in one another as the world around them trickles away.

Fíli is interesting and funny and more than Kíli assumed, and Kíli doesn’t want to be anywhere else ever again.

From the look Fíli gives him, Kíli thinks Fíli feels the same.

***

Collapsing into various seats around Gandalf’s office, the three Weavers heave sighs of relief.

“We did it.”

“Understatement of the century, Gandalf.” Thranduil retorts, summoning a cup of elderberry tea. He directs his next statement to Radagast, “I can’t believe you got him—” that is, Kíli, “—there on time.”

Radagast shrugs helplessly, “I didn’t. I lost him outside the theater.”

They allow the information to marinate between them for a minute before Gandalf snorts and then erupts into booming laughter. Thranduil joins him next and then Radagast, though somewhat less enthusiastically.

There are three things a Weaver understands intrinsically.

One, Weavers aren’t miracle-makers.

Two, Weavers can’t force love to happen where it doesn’t want to.

And three, Eternal Love is a rare gem that will bring two people together.

With or without a Weaver’s interference.

Gandalf flicks his wrist and catches a stein of lager that appears, takes a deep drink, and says thoughtfully, “What a bloody waste of time.”

“At least you get to keep your hat.” Radagast points out.

“Very true, old friend, very true…”

***

END

1 – I wanted to incorporate Castar currency, but there obviously isn’t a symbol for it so…this is what I liked best XD

#submission #Gathering 12 Days 2023 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

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