#writermk

[elvain]

At The Heart Of Time

            The first thing that most young Hobbits were taught was how to grow things. It was, of course, the most important Hobbitish activity: to grow and nurture new life. Bilbo himself had been six years old the day his mother took him to plant new roses in her garden (which would later become his). He still remembered, years later, the satisfaction and pride and joy that he had felt in watching those small plants turn into rosebuds, then roses.

            But they had died one day, as all living things tended to do. It was the way of the world for things to come to an end before one was ready. And Bilbo had not been ready. He had sobbed and cried and dug into the dirt of the garden with his bare hands until his father had stopped him and pulled him close.

            “Bilbo,” Bungo Baggins had said solemnly. “All things must end in this world. But there will always be, too, a new beginning, because the world keeps turning, and the road goes ever on and on. Do you understand?”

read the rest on AO3. it's been a long time since i updated this one, so reblogs are appreciated/encouraged!

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@brw @lordoftherazzles @mirkwood @makeminemarvel @glamdolf @hobbitwrangler @lucigoo @gondolindon

#writermk #fotfics

[elvain]

You, Me, and The Multiverse, Too

           “Alison,” Ororo said patiently. “I’ve seen you buy dresses without even bothering to go inside the store. You are a much better shopper than this. And it’s not like this is your first time going to a movie premiere. What’s making you so nervous?”

             “Who said I was nervous?” Alison said defensively, stepping behind the screen to peel the dress off. She selected another one as she spoke: deep green with gold sequins along the wrists.

            “You seem nervous,” Ororo said. “And don’t deny it.”

            Alison didn’t even bother pulling the dress all the way up her hips. She already hated the way the fabric felt against her sensitive skin. “Fine. I’m nervous.”

            “I’m shocked.”

            “Are goddesses supposed to be this sarcastic?”

            “This one is.”

read the rest on AO3. welcome to the latest MK fic extravaganza: jennifer walters and alison blaire telepathically linked and hunting a warlock across the multiverse! i am SO excited for this fic and i can't wait to see what everyone thinks. reblogs are encouraged/appreciated!

taglist below. let me know if you want to be added or removed. and thank you excelsiorfics for the tracked tag!

@brw @makeminemarvel @greerbaiting @hawkzeyes @cherlawa-panna @sovaharbor

#excelsiorfics #dazzler #alison blaire #she-hulk #jennifer walters #writermk #jenalison

[elvain]

Mutual In Divine Love

            For as long as Arwen could remember, they had likened her to Lúthien.

            Raven locks, they murmured, so like the ones with which the daughter of Melian had woven a shroud of enchantment upon her guards. Clear skin, they whispered, so like that which had once been touched by the mortal Beren as he searched for the daughter of Thingol in the woods. Bright eyes, they sang, so like the ones that had pierced the darkness of Angband and met the gaze of its Dark Lord.

            All they saw when they looked upon Arwen Undómiel was Lúthien Tinúviel. So it had been for thousands of years.

read the rest on AO3. Arwen/Éowyn one-shot written for my dear friends Mae and Lily. reblogs encouraged and appreciated!

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@lordoftherazzles @gondolindon @hobbitwrangler @glamdolf @greerbaiting @mirkwood

#fotfics #writermk #arwen undomiel #arwen x eowyn

[elvain]

Performance of the Dead

I never feel as human as when he is near me. Vashti tells me there is something different in me when he is near. I don’t know how to tell him the truth, so I just smile and nod. But there is something different in me when he is near – it’s true. He makes me feel like the sun.  

– excerpt from the private journals of Prince Namor of Atlantis, the Avenging Son, and the Scourge of the Seven Seas

-

            It was strange to Namor that there could be such a beautiful, mundane day amidst one of the worst wars the surface world has ever known. Somewhere on the European continent, there were men dying for what they believed was right. Amid blood and screaming, lives were being lost under the tyranny of evil. And yet, the sun shone like a beacon in the sky above, the ocean glimmered like a jewel, and Namor was flying.

read the rest on AO3. written for @namorweek day one: Wings & Sun. reblogs encouraged + appreciated. thank you excelsiorfics for the tracked tag!

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@brw @makeminemarvel @greerbaiting @sovaharbor @hawkzeyes @cherlawa-panna

#excelsiorfics #namorweek #namor the sub-mariner #writermk

[elvain]

Ride Out In The Country

            Éomer raised a hand to shade his eyes from the sun. With his other hand, he held up a sack full of bright, red apples. Whistling through his teeth sharply, Éomer called, “Firefoot! Come here!”

            Firefoot, who was grazing upon long, sweet grass some ways away, only swished his tail. Éomer supposed he was only glad the horse had not seen fit to relieve himself at his call.

            “Firefoot!” he called again. Ridiculous beast, he thought privately.

            This time, Firefoot did lift his tail to relieve himself.

            “Having trouble, my Lord?”

            Éomer dropped his arm and turned. “No,” he said stiffly. “I did not think to see you here today.”

            Lothíriel Queen of the Mark, once called Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, only raised a dark eyebrow at his words. “I am here every day.”

read more on AO3. written for @eomer :) reblogs encouraged/appreciated!

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#eomer eadig #eomer x lothiriel #lothiriel #eomer of rohan #fotfics #writermk

[elvain]

(sometimes goodbye is a) second chance

            There were times when Pietro wished he was as bad a person as they thought he was. He wished he really was heartless and unfeeling. He could be cruel, he thought bitterly, if he wanted to be, if he thought it would serve a purpose. There was no reason for him to do good deeds or to feel any sort of morality. Certainly not for the humanity that scorned him so often and so well.

            Of course, Pietro was none of the things they said he was. He was not a perfect man – nobody was. And perhaps he was not even a good man.

            But he was not a bad one, either. He never had been.

read more on AO3. day 2 of quicksilver week 2024 was power/hero. event hosted by @magnetfamily

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@brw @makeminemarvel @hawkzeyes @cherlawa-panna @sovaharbor @greerbaiting

#quicksilverweek2024 #pietro maximoff #quicksilver #writermk

[elvain]

Golden

      ��     The most curious thing about time was that, even when it did not cease to pass like wind over the mountains, sometimes it seemed to stand as still as ice. The seasons continued to pass even though it felt as though certain moments of time were frozen; immortalized. Time was a relentless thing, to be sure, but those frozen moments seemed almost like a mercy.

            Or at least, that was what it felt like to Bilbo Baggins.

read more on AO3. reblogs encouraged.

this fic has been written as a birthday present to my dearest, dearest friend @lordoftherazzles. razz, i love you, and i love showing off with you. i love our music, i love our jokes, i love our gifs. i am so grateful that we can be ourselves around each other and that we created such a strong friendship. you are going to have the most wonderful day and the most wonderful life. i love you <3

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#bagginshield #writermk

[elvain]

(sometimes goodbye is a) second chance

            Even after a storm ended, there were still traces of it seen the next morning. The trees dripped with icy rain. There was still a chill in the air. On the horizon, storm clouds lingered as though waiting for the chance to return to the main stage. The grass was wet, the stems of flowers were bent, and the scent of lightning and thunder still lingered. It took time for a storm to fade. It took time for its aftermath to dissipate into a new day.

            Pietro’s mind turned the idea over and over in his head as he tugged his hood more securely over his head. He could have escaped the deluge of the storm with ease, of course, and reached his destination in less than a second. But something about the brutality of that night’s storm made him want to linger. It made him want to… slow down.

            There were not many who understood what it was like to have a mutation such as the one Pietro had. They did not understand what it was like to live life at the speed of sound like he did. They did not understand the value in taking one’s time when it was possible, of savouring a moment or two, just for the sake of it.

read more on AO3. written for day 1 of quicksilver week! reblogs are encouraged + appreciated. hosted by @magnetfamily

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@brw @makeminemarvel @hawkzeyes @cherlawa-panna @sovaharbor @greerbaiting

#quicksilverweek2024 #pietro maximoff #wanda maximoff #writermk

[elvain]

Forged In Amber

            “The fireworks will look just as beautiful from the valley, you know.”

            “But won’t they look even more beautiful on the lake? You know I’m right.”

            “My love, I’ve believed you are always right for years now. But it’s cold and it’s dark, and-”

            “Oh, come on! Where’s your sense of adventure? Won’t you come with me, Fíli?”

            “Sigrid, I’d follow you anywhere.”

--

            Sigrid woke up alone. That, above all else, was her first clue that something was out of the ordinary, for she had never woken up alone before. For many years now, Sigrid had become used to sleeping with Tilda curled up against her side. Before that, it had been Bain who would curl up at her back until he began to share with their father. In some distant recess of Sigrid’s mind, she had vague memories of sharing her bed with her mother.

            But she had never woken up alone.

hello! welcome to my latest fanfic extravaganza. you can read the rest on AO3 here. reblogs are encouraged. taglist below the cut - let me know if you want to be added or removed!

@lordoftherazzles @mirkwood @makeminemarvel @fellowshipofthefics @hobbitwrangler

#filisigrid #figrid #fotfics #writermk #fili durin #sigrid of dale #fili

[elvain]

A Semblance of My Soul

        In the center of the room, there is a large, red carpet. On either end of the room are a pair of translucent doors. The room is sparsely decorated, with some flowers and candles here and there. There is a large sofa on one end of the room, and a cart of drinks on the other end.

         Behind one of the pairs of doors, Steve is standing as still as a statue. He is wearing a deep, blue suit with a white tie. There is a red pocket square on his left breast. His hair has been combed back and neatly gelled. He has his hands behind his back, his shoulders straight as a board.

         On the other side of the room, behind the second set of doors, Tony is pacing furiously. He is wearing a charcoal suit with a red tie. There is a gold pocket square on his left breast. He is wringing his hands together as he paces, turning a small, black box over and over. His hair might have been properly styled but is now in disarray. He keeps running his fingers through it. Finally, he comes to a stop in front of the white doors.

         Almost on cue, they slide open.

         From across the room, Steve and Tony’s eyes meet for the first time.

         “Oh,” Steve says.

read the rest on AO3. reblogs encouraged - thanks to excelsiorfics for the tracked tag!

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#excelsiorfics #stevetony #steve x tony #stony #writermk

[elvain]

Forged In Amber

            “Where are we going?”

            “Shh, just wait! You’ll see. It will be worth it, love, I promise.”

            “I can hardly see my own feet out here! You’ll be lucky if we don’t both fall off the side of this Mountain.”

            “Don’t you trust me, Sigrid?”

            “Oh, Fíli. I’d trust you with my whole world.”

--

            When Bard thundered down the stairs with a pale, ashen face, and trembling hands, Fíli feared the worst. He had only ever seen one look so shaken after battle. Suddenly, he wished that he had put up more of a fight when Bard had insisted on entering Sigrid’s room first. She had called for him, it was true, but Fíli had not cared. Still, he had allowed Thorin and Kíli to hold him back as Bard went to her.

            He regretted it deeply.

read the rest on AO3. reblogs encouraged!

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[elvain]

(sometimes goodbye is a) second chance

            He would never admit it to anyone. Not one single soul. Not even upon pain of death. But there was only one place on the Earth that Pietro would retreat to without hesitation. Without reservations. Without bitterness.

            Despite that, he still hated having to return.

            He stood upon the walkway with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and stared up at the stone masonry. Once before, a long time ago, he had stood upon the same path and stared upon the same bricks. He had had next to nothing then. At least now, he thought grimly, he had a duffel bag of spare clothes to bring with him. At least now he was more than just a refugee.

read more on AO3. this was written for day 3 of quicksilver week hosted by @magnetfamily: love/freedom.

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[elvain]

Performance of the Dead

… thought that I had lost all there was to lose a long time ago. It never occurred to me that she, too, could be lost to me the way so many others were. The ache she has left behind will not ease. It is an abyss. And I am drowning. – excerpt from the private journals of Prince Namor of Atlantis, the Avenging Son, and the Scourge of the Seven Seas

            One thing that the humans had never understood about the ways of the sea was that change was in its nature. From one second to the next, no body of water ever remained the same. It rippled. It split into waves. The riptide carried sediment from one end of the earth to the other. The chemicals, natural and man-made, flowed along with the current. Creatures were born, creatures were killed, creatures were discovered. The oceans of the world were forever changing, not ever remaining the same for more than a moment.

            It was strange then that Namor so desperately despised change.

read the rest on AO3. day 2 of @namorweek is prince/king/emperor & outcast. thanks excelsiorfics for the tracked tag.

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@brw @greerbaiting @sovaharbor @cherlawa-panna @hawkzeyes @makeminemarvel

#excelsiorfics #namorweek #writermk

[elvain]

one year older, one year better

         Bilbo Baggins did not consider himself to be a particularly needy Hobbit.

         That being said, he did, sometimes, have small expectations. Tiny ones, really. Perhaps a polite greeting at certain appointments, the right number of biscuits on his tea tray, the seams of his trousers straight and tidy.

         Or, as impossible as it sounded, he expected his dearest friends (for whom he had nearly died, as he often told them) to remember his birthday.

--

hello! i posted my first ever jrrt-related work here. please reblog, share, etc etc and enjoy!

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #bilbothorin #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #writermk

[elvain]

silver streams / golden hearts

            Idril stepped closer to him, her silver feet cutting through the coming waves with ease. “Tuor,” she whispered into the night.

            He blinked. “I did not mean to wake you,” he said quietly. He glanced out at the horizon before them. “I…”

            “You heard his voice again.” She took his hand in hers and held it to her chest. “He still calls you, I know.”

            The touch of Idril anchored him to the lands of Arda. Within her touch, Tuor could begin to forget about the call of the sea and the whispers of the Vala who had touched him, body and soul. It was Idril, he thought warmly, that washed the salt from his skin and the sand from his hair. It was her that called him back.

read the rest on AO3. reblogs encouraged/appreciated.

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@lordoftherazzles @gondolindon @mirkwood @hobbitwrangler @glamdolf

#tuor #idril #idriltuor #tuoridril #fotfics #writermk

[elvain]

Forged In Amber

            “Are you nervous?”

            “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

            “Don’t look at them. Look at me, Sigrid. It’s just you and me.”

            “It’s not that simple, Fíli. What if I forget the steps? What if I step on you? What if-?”

            “I’ll still be here. I will always be here.”

--

            Fíli had been in the forge when the news had reached the Mountain that the Princess had collapsed in the marketplace of Dale and carried back to the King’s manor in an unconscious state. Gandalf the Grey had been summoned, as well, and had been seen racing into the city on horseback only hours ago. The marketplace had been shut down and the entire city had gone silent, waiting with bated breath for news of the Princess Sigrid’s state.

            Fíli, who had been in the middle of engraving a leather saddlebag with Khuzdul runes, had snapped his mallet in half when his mother had come into his workroom to tell him. The nail he had been using plunged into the leather, tearing the strap nearly in half with the force of his blow.

read more on AO3. reblogs encouraged/appreciated.

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#filisigrid #figrid #fili x sigrid #fotfics #writermk