My first silm fic!!! This has been lingering for months at the border of "nearly done" since I wrote most of it in a surge of desperate inspiration. Basically, Finrod romance oneshot-ish with a semi-OC dwarven craftsman who made the Nauglamír. This is actually my saddest finrod fic tbh despite being the one WITHOUT torture and dubcon, because it's canon compliant (imo) and Finrod is hopeful and brilliant and a little vain. :')
Those lit-up eyes softened. "Truly, your craftsmanship impresses me. I have never before been the warden of a thing so fine, nor so beautiful. I will treasure it, wonder-smith, as I have treasured your abode within these walls."
He always found the right words. It was for that open appreciation that the Khazâd so readily labored for him.
dwarf bf really has it bad for this guy
most dubious thing in this fic--i chose a Petty-dwarves narrative before learning about alternate (to me) versions Tolkien had (where Finrod is worse or has direct interaction with Mîm) but this is what I'm probably going to stick to because I like:
It was oddly fitting, Nargothrond, the seat of Felakgundu's power. The caverns' first inhabitants were criminals and outlaws, those Khazâd who had left or been driven forth in the early years. Zirak was a scholar as well as a craftsman, and he knew how those dwarves had met their end—on Elvish arrows in the days before the newcomers had made their way from the Sea. In the months they'd spent in the workshop, the Elf lord had spoken glimmers of the shadow that lay in his own past.
It has a hold on me still, Felakgundu said, after the first and only time Zirak had witnessed a waking dream. If he hadn't known Elves better, he would have thought Felakgundu a little abashed. A moment before, those light eyes had stared at nothing, unseeing and stricken. But I am stronger. And I will build strength in goodness here, no matter how evil the foundation it lies on.
Also they hook up <3
2.) westworld
Well.... having written a fucked up Bohun & Bohun/Helena Westworld AU fic for Ogniem i mieczem... I keep wanting to write a Jan (/OT3) one to keep it company. You know I have plenty of wretched ideas for that boy in this verse. Another villainous Jeremi (I wish I could say I was sorrier). Most of this one is actually in a notebook rn instead of the "westworld"-titled doc:
"What happens with the guests doesn't matter." Jan cocks his head, uncomprehending. The words are blank. Jeremi smiles. "What you do is in my service."
Jan glows. "Thank you, my prince."
Were there ever sweeter words?
3.) potop ot3 drama
My fav Sienkiewicz WIP at the moment tbh and HOPEFULLY one day I go back to it. This is my attempt at a Kmicic/Wołodyjowski fic because by God, we deserve one. Eventual OT3 with Oleńka I think thus the title. The premise (my beloved silly premise) is this: It's the Kmicic-as-wild-partisan-leader era. Michał is sent a bit earlier to give him his commission. Michał and Kmicic hook up before Michał learns who Kmicic is and that his hot one night stand is the famous, kind of mad partisan leader he's supposed to consider for the officer's commission. Then dramatic shenanigans ensue with Hovansky (the Russian commander who has a price on Kmicic's head) and eventually Oleńka.
“So,” Kmicic echoed, tugging at his collar. Michał had barely met him, and yet the uneasy expression still seemed uncomfortable on that bold, brash face; Kmicic remedied it with a grin that didn’t touch his wild eyes for all its bravery. “The first sabre of the Commonwealth—”
“Don’t, God,” Michał mumbled, and Kmicic didn’t. “So you remember. It was a mistake unworthy of either of us. You must know that.”
Kmicic’s eyes flashed and he jumped to his feet, casting the empty glass down so it shattered. “Unworthy—”
Radziwiłł’s commission felt like fire against Michał’s breast, investing him with the strength he needed to respond—to stand in a flash and to grab Kmicic’s forearm over the table as he reached for his sabre, holding hard enough to bruise. He spoke lowly, the words hissed in the sudden closeness. “You must know that.”
Kmicic’s lip curled. His Polish was slightly accented now, as if touched by scorn. Michał could smell the sweet mead on his breath. “Say it again. I’d kill any other man who said that to me. I’d challenge you here and now.” He’d moved to ty.
Well, again.
“You would lose,” Michał said, with as little inflection as a stone. He released him, and Kmicic staggered.
Michał returned to his seat at the bench and picked up a leg of fowl. The tavern girls, flocked to the far corner of the room, visibly exhaled and began to file out towards the kitchen.
Kmicic stood before him, slim chest heaving, eyes the color of steel. He looked as if he were about to strike something.
“Sit down,” Michał said. He’d moved to ty too.
Kmicic sat.
Michał swore softly. “Don’t misunderstand me, sir. But put it out of your mind.”
“You needn’t have any fear on that account!” Kmicic downed another glass and took up the pitcher. Michał looked on with something like concern.
it's not my fault this is MAYBE the most fun Kmicic era
Michał’s mustache twitched. “If there were requisitions, signed orders—”
“May I ask you a question, your grace?” Soroka interrupted, voice low and hard. “What kind of men did your grace expect to find? In Smolensk, there’s none left like you describe. They died, your grace. Thanks be to God, Pan Kmicic hasn’t, and so they flock to him for the blood. For the fires and food, and the hope of jewels off boyars’ caps. Because this ragged part of God’s earth is the only place the courts won’t hound them—for murder and rape and Devil knows what else.”
Michał was silent. Soroka looked away, as if ashamed to speak so freely. Wołodyjowski had never heard the older man say so many words together at once.
“Besides his great boldness, there is no other reason, so if it please your grace, don’t tell my lord how to manage his men until you’ve tried it.”
“I will try it, Soroka,” Michał responded evenly, the leather of his sabre’s hilt warm under his hand. “And I’ll manage your lord too.”
one day. One day. i will finish enough of this to at least post what i've got and contribute my fandom taxes to the Potop tag because god we need more fic with this extremely canon ship
2. What scene did you first put down?I answered this with meadowlarkx’s earlier ask, so I’ll answer with the second scene: the fully dramatic end-of-the-character-drama-arc OT3 resolution scene. Because I’m a junkie and I skipped forward about 20 chapters to the end to get my catharsis before really digging down into confusing and often contradictory articles on witchcraft in Poland.
4. What’s your favorite line of dialogue? It’s not a single line, per se, but it is very good Bohun:
“And if it’s your body I find next in the woods?” Jan snapped.
Bohun lifted his head, all humanity lost, and only his demon pride in his eyes as he answered: “Then bury me.”
9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?Many. The core concept happened. Then the core with a twist. Then the core with a twisted twist. Then things got twistier. At this point it’s like Tornado Alley, and I nearly changed the villain’s name because of the Ukrainian elections but bachaboska stopped me. I owe her my life, though she knows better than anyone that I have no sanity left. The orgy scene proves that. :3
11. What do you like best about this fic?I get to write about all my favourite things in one fic. [Redacted], spooky shit, trees, Turkic mythology, Steppe cultures, emo Cossacks, women shouting at people who deserve it, sad bb!Bohun backstory, and wolves. I’m the happiest nerd ever.
12. What do you like least about this fic?It’s a lot of plot threads to weave together, as well as trying to truly lock in early chapters so I don’t feel like I have to retcon stuff later on. Which is slow, slow going.
15. What did you learn from writing this fic?Having people who are enthusiastic about what you write is the single greatest goddam gift imaginable. Full stop.
jan/helena from Pas de trois by @sparklingdali and @thecrystalmadness ❤️
Helena would expect regret or perhaps even shame that she just jumped into bed with a boy she barely knew but in reality that was not how she felt at all. She thought this was the first time in her life when she wanted something and instead of stressing about it or telling herself she can’t, Helena simply reached with her hand and took.
And did it feel good to take what you wanted.
-
“Hey, if I did something wrong, please tell me. You can be honest with me, I can take it. I’m a tough guy, you know, I do ballet.” Jan grinned and Helena actually snorted in response. He was happy to see her smile again, the tightness in his heart gone. He could look at her all day.
Slow Burn: Azja. If he can not be a murderous psycho, I’d be into that. You know I would. You didn’t need to ask. I fully reject the latter 3/4 of the book for this reason. I want an excuse to learn a Turkic language and lovingly make fun of a broody dumbass in a ger with a view. We’ll have 1.5 children, a golden retriever, and a horde. I’m an old romantic, what can I say
Fake Date: Bogusław. Jesus, look, he’s terrifying but if that “fake date” involved at least one one-night-stand you know you’d learn something new and interesting. Or at least actually know what silken sheets feel like. You know what I’m saying?
Enemies to lovers: Kmicic. I truly think we’d hate each other on first sight, if we met in person. And then we’d realise that... we have more in common than we should. You guys are all invited to our combo bachelor/ette party. There will be illegal fireworks. Also I love a man who’ll do exactly what I say because I’m right but will also occasionally blow up something with gunpowder to keep the relationship spicy.
Slow burn: Jan. That prep + military exterior is pretty potent. But look, even if you know you’ll die as Bohun trash, you have to admit that Jan is the only guy you’d want to live the rest of your life with. Maybe with less than twelve kids, but...
Fake date: Bohun. All the dumb fake date shit would be fun because that boy has never received any affection in his emo life. Do you want to make Bohun blush? I do. Give him flowers. Make him choke up in public. Find an old boombox and play love songs under his window. He’d cry.
Enemies to lovers: Helena. I feel like I’d have more fun being tsundere with Helena than with anybody else. It would be worth it just to try to pretend I wouldn’t be as weak for her beautiful dark braids as Jan is. Think of all the amusing, convoluted reasons I’d have to get silly string out of her hair or something and would have to confess that I’m crap at braiding hair. It’d be great.
Wow this will surprise you yes... I want to know more... about Dumka (or all couldn't wash the choes out trylogia) which I am definitely NOT obsessed with. 3, 4 (you know which is mine haha), 7, 9, 13
:D it’s been 200 years…. (almost as if…..the echoes cannot be washed out… . . )
3: What’s your favorite line of narration?
I want to pretend I have more than one favorite scene in this fic but: She was more like him than she’d known; she looked at the wreckage she’d created and felt something scorching that in another light, drunk on soldier’s gorzałka, could have been mistaken for happiness.
4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?
Well…it would be “So sad, poor orphan Bohun, who’d rather burn a house down than live in it” (in the distance: bohun screaming) if only for how much you & TCM love it :D I love it too
But also Longinek: “What’s ambushed?” Jan: “It’s like a surprise.” (I’m dumb and I think this is hilarious, it’s been 2 years)
7: Where did the title come from?
oh dear…oh dear… well I didn’t have a title and I needed one badly, I’m kinda still not sure about it
I really like the word and i thought it went nicely with like, dumka bohuna, dumka na dwa (trzy) serca, Helena singing in the fic… I thought it sounded kind of conclusive for the story..
I also thought it would be nice to have a title in Not English Or Latin since the set ™ had Counterpoint, then Inlustratur… i actually have in my notes “NO LATIN TITLE”
9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
HMMMM
Sort of? I remember reworking some things when I was trying to plan… also I never planned to write 3, just one happened and then the other, so I feel like some complications were created there (cheating is like technically bad haha) - originally I was gonna have Jan/Helena have a kind of guilt-ridden convo about Bohun where Jan’s very obviously in love with and/or has been with Bohun, and Jan’s kinda guilty, but Helena’s not really hurt but almost pitying/understanding… Helena sort of looking at Jan’s soft eyes thinking to herself “another victim of the bohun trap :/ i’ve been there too bitch” but I decided to scratch that because I thought it brought up too many problems when I was trying to get them together :’D - also I wanted their conversation about Bohun to focus more on how Helena feels…
I also wasn’t sure at first how they were all going to meet up… it would be fun & easy to get Jan/Bohun to meet during Potop (actually I should note that down) but I wanted Helena… so at first I wasn’t sure if Bohun was going to show up in her hideout or wtv or if she was maybe going to visit Jan on the front somehow
13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?
hmm i’m gonna say Florence and the Machine - Delilah, What Kind Of Man… a lot of her songs…
The Prayer of François Villon (Molitva) (!), also Babe I’m Gonna Leave You (or this one for worse quality but more Joan Baez brand intensity tm)
+ if I didn’t say it already the soundtrack for writing Inlustratur kiss scene at 3 am is The Arena by Lindsey Stirling
@sparklingdali Holy shit, you’re so right. Azja/Now is that golden standard of shipping: cheerful, brawny blonde with a slimmer, grumpy brunette. 100/10
(Am I still cackling about Adam remembering Azja as “lower to the ground”? Yes, I am. I will continue to cackle about this forever. As a short person, it is my right.)
