@balrogballs tagged me for wip wednesday and I went “shoot, what can i share that’s presentable”! i’ve been on a kick of trying to learn new art techniques, but the results have been … highly variable 😓
here are 1.) an isildur-at-the-gladden-fields i’ve been fiddling with for MONTHS since @southaway gave me permission to borrow their incredible design, 2.) an aerin “firing the hall”, 3.) silmarillion concept cover art design, 4.) elwing and 5.) gwindor reuniting with finduilas: both in “help i am trying to learn animation and it’s very hard” edition
i don’t know who’s already been tagged, but no-pressure tagging @southaway (since you’re already getting pinged haha), @peasant-player, @saintvoids, @pukiirice, @laisrinel and whoever else wants to share a wip
Aaron's face is somber. "A seizure, huh?"
Robert winces. "Sorry."
"Don't apologize, you muppet," Aaron says quietly. "It's not your fault."
"You've been trying to tell me to take it easy," Robert points out, playing with the strands of the rough hospital bed sheets. "And I'm sorry I scared you."
There's a beat, then Aaron says, "You did, yeah."
Robert holds back yet another apology on his tongue, eyes still firmly stuck on the white of the sheets. He can feel Aaron's gaze on him, steady. Worried.
"I reckon you gave Sarah quite a scare, too."
no pressure tagging @robrondale @bartonmatty @sugdendeeznuts @capseycartwright @madroxed @aelric @ggee-xx @meena-jutla and whoever else wants to do this <3
I just started a new Einrich x RT fic, A Hymn Written in Fire and Blood! It explores my RT Madwen and her relationship with her Infernus Master from her POV and the POV of her subjects, from bridge officers to the workers. Here's an excerpt from a chapter that I'm not quite sure where to put yet. Have some R18/NSFW gossip about the Rogue Trader's dirty laundry 👀
Gently tagging @ravelsquadespresso @amadicah @redstairs and everyone else who wants to share their WIPs! 💖
Chapter ?: Dirty Laundry
The laundry hab’s air was damp and warm, saturated with the chemical smell of soap that permeated the plasteel walls. A chorus of laundresses were humming, gossiping, or yelling out orders. Uniforms of midship officers were dunked into vats full of lye, suds covering the dry and cracked hands of the women who worked the stains out of the clothes. The resulting runoff were then used to soak the lower deckers’ heavily-stained rags; a small comfort afforded by tight rationing of water and detergent.
Of course, there was a separate section for the Lord Captain, where only the finest perfumed detergents, fresh water, and expert washers were allowed to touch her garments.
Philippa, “Old Pippa” to the younger washer girls, was one of them. Old Pippa was already hunched and grey when the sudden shift of power occurred; she did not for a moment think that in her eighty years of service to Lady Theodora that she would serve another Lord Captain.
The laundry hab was where rumours went to be boiled and wrung out.
All nobles have their eccentricities, and it sometimes showed in how they soil their garments. Old Pippa knew her masters intimately through the hem of their raiment.
And now, she was getting to know Lady Madwen.
Lady Madwen was a different breed of Rogue Trader from her predecessor. Many described her as looking like a scholarly, bookish witch, carrying bound tomes and psychic staves, but her clothes told a different story.
The wear and tear of battle showed in bloodstains (most of which are definitely not the Lord Captain’s), scuffed fabrics, and lasfire burns. Though Lady Theodora was no doubt capable and had access to the best firearms the dynasty’s coffers had to offer, the young woman who succeeded her was far more adventurous, or perhaps more reckless in battle. She did not think Lady Madwen was a fool, God-Emperor no! But in all her years washing Lady Theodora’s battle-soiled garments, the bloodstains had been fewer and easier to wash out.
Then there are her capes and boots, mired by the elements. The dirt on them were not just from her excursions with her retinue. Old Pippa recognized it as muck from the lower decks, and it came as no surprise.
Lady Madwen was seen setting her feet in the lower decks, where the rabble came to meet her and plead for better stations in life. She had heard stories of the Rogue Trader descending to the belly of her voidship to quell riots herself, hand out rations to the rabble, and personally observe her demesne. Old Pippa’s heart swelled when she once came to see them, her Seneschal and the Infernus Master trailing behind her. Einrich was a good lad, and he used to come down to fix broken pipes and lead them to safety when one of the machines caught fire before he was mired with paperwork as the new Infernus Master.
The lady’s handkerchiefs were often stained. On most days, it was stained with rouge, kohl and lipstick, smelling faintly of orange blossoms and baked confections. After her excursions from the voidship, there tends to be more grime than usual. Ominously, there were days when the fabric was soaked in the lady’s blood, burning hot enough to burn through it partially. On such days, Old Pippa would make the sign of the Aquila and pray to the God Emperor for her safety.
Then there was the subject of the lady’s underclothes.
Old Pippa startled from scrubbing Lady Madwen’s coat jacket when a younger washerwoman with barely any meat on her bones, Elisabeth, gasped and dropped a bucket of laundry.
The girls around her tittered, helping her pick up the fallen articles of clothing.
“What’s the matter, Ellie? It’s like you’ve never seen a pair of knickers before!” Lettitia, a middle-aged washerwoman teased.
The tittering continued, which died down to an awkward hush. Lettitia let out a low whistle and snatched the pair from her younger colleague. A small crowd had gathered around the spectacle.
“What are you girls gawping at?” Old Pippa asked, looking up from her task to see just what caught the washerwomen’s attention.
“Old Pippa, look,” Elisabeth squawked.
Lettitia was wearing a crooked grin as she gave the old woman the pair. There was no doubt about it; it was stained with a man’s spend, which cooled and crusted over the fabric. Such a sight normally did not faze the old washerwoman. How else would noble houses expand?
But the rest gave her pause.
The stains sat closer to where her buttocks would have been, and the fabric had been stretched until the elastic had lost its shape, as if someone didn’t even bother taking them off, or used it as leverage.
Verona, a washerwoman with cheap rouge on her cheeks, was now holding up a pair of trousers with dirt caking the knees. It wasn’t battlefield dust, no. It was soot and grime from the belly of the Rogue Trader’s own voidship.
Lettitia clicked her teeth and chuckled. “It’s definitely the Infernus Master.”
Find a line in your story that fits each of the parameters given by the person who tagged you, then give new lines for the people you tag.
All lines used are from Purity, OH which can be found in part here: @churchofmortalpurity
Your specified lines are...
a line spoken in anger:
"I'm fine, jackass, worry about yourself like you usually do. God," I curse, getting some of the tape off and it takes my skin with it. I glance up and Beckett still hasn't left, standing there engulfed in his big black hoodie that goes halfway to his knees.
a line said quietly:
Emory's cheeks flush. He looks over his shoulder at James, back at me, down to my shorts and gym shoes and still-numb feet, and at his own fidgeting hands. "James is fine. Um, he did ask me to—I need to help him with something, so, what did you need?" He tucks his tangled hair behind one ear.
a line with less than five words:
It's a closed casket.
a line that mentions the sky:
I wipe my nose on my sleeve and stare into the gray sky, too overcast and the truck too bouncy to make out stars. "Doe or buck?"
a line that makes you smile every time you read it:
"You're okay, Calvin." He smells like mouthwash. "We're all okay."
~*~*~*~*~*~
The one that makes me smile is because it's fucked up but we dont need to talk about that shsjdjdjfj
Tagging @karolinarodrigueswrites @robeansthebean @rayne143 @cursivefiction @writerabigailcooper @ruchi-writes and open tag for anyone! Feel free to reblog/add to this post.
Next ones!
-- a line that's an incomplete sentence/sentence fragment
-- a line that takes place in the early morning
-- one of your favourite lines or one that was hard to get right
Hello hello hello everyone! I just wanted to take a little moment to invite you to my Lounge.
It is an 18+ server designed to be a positive, uplifting, and relaxing space for everyone to discuss the things we enjoy, share things that bring us joy, and to occasionally learn something or find new and interesting things.
It's generally pretty quiet, multi-fandom, and this year we're excited to be planning some more events for writers, readers, and artists! Currently we have monthly prompts for artists and writers, monthly poetry prompts, a comment bingo, as well as bi-weekly WIP word searches.
I hope to see you there, I'd be happy to have ya.
This server is meant to be a positive, uplifting, and relaxing space for everyone to discuss the things we enjoy, share things that bring us
I was tagged by @amadicah to share some WIPs, thank you for tagging me! c:
I wish I was more diligent in practicing drawing (I can do it if I am copying a tutorial, but I cannot seem to create anything myself), but I do write on occasion, soooo...
I think I am going to soft launch my OCs that I have been keeping to myself.
I am currently writing a drukhari x adepta sororitas story. The idea started because I had gotten some brain worms from the interactions between Marazhai and Argenta and it kind of became it's own thing. >_>
Let me introduce you all to:
Cupiditia Anaïs - Novitiate in the Order of the Sacred Tears
Picrew Link
Celebrity face match: Doscha Polanco (especially her long, curly haired look in Orange is the New Black)
She goes through a crisis of faith at a young age and now in her late 20s is now having a grand ole time having heresy fun times with her xenos. If anxiety and guilt was a person it would be her. CW: The only thing keeping her grounded is self harm.
I was fortunate that the picrew had that makeup because the Order's battle makeup is wine-red tears.
Anzryllyss Lealithyss - Kabalite Warrior in the Kabal of Poisoned Tears
Picrew Link
Celebrity face match: Manny Jacinto (especially the Timid magazine photo shoot)
Not the best drukhari, has a complicated relationship with the way he stays alive. Enjoys that he can feed off Cupiditia just by being in her presence. Knows how to read and write in Low Gothic and other languages because he is little freak that likes to read.
Notable features: Pigmented scar on right eyebrow, eyelid (inflicted by another, but pigmented by him because he liked the way it looked) [the picrew is a lie, because you couldn't put it on the right side], grey eye shadow, natural fangs (proud of), scars dotted across body from armor. Piercings: ears pierced in multiple spots, nipples, genital (ladder), bridge, belly button, and tongue (only one).
I indulged my teenage-self when creating these two.
I have written about 60k so far about these two and maybe one day I will share the whole thing, because it certainly gets wild, but here is a rough snippet from their story:
(Anzryllyss was saved by Cupiditia after a battle. He found himself on her planet again, and has just captured her to find out why she did what did she. He just so happens to also be playing with her).
Cupiditia
She watched as he stared down at her. She returned his stare her eyes narrowing waiting for him to make his move. She did not stand a chance against him, but she at least had a kind of weapon in her knife. She wouldn't go down without a fight, but it seemed that he was merely toying with her. What if he was being honest? What if he truly wasn't planning on killing her?
"I am going to ask you a question again, Cupiditia, and I would appreciate it if you answered me honestly." He moved down into a squat position in front of her and ran his hand through his hair, his eyes bright in the green light, "'Why?'"
He said it the exact same way he had the first time they had met.
Anzryllyss
He let the question hang in the air.
She worked her jaw as he kept a close eye on her. He had noticed the knife cradled between her breasts when he had stood over her. She was wearing very little for a chaste little zealot. The cropped top was tight across her chest and the shorts were mid-thigh, except for the one he had pushed up. He realized that this might be their undergarments now that he thought about it.
Moving his fingers together against her blood on his hand he resisted the urge to lick it off. He wanted to at least wait and see what she had to say in case that rendered her mute. Although, he was pleasantly surprised that she was so demanding despite all of the fear, pain, and dread that filled her body to bursting. He was enjoying her attempts at taking control of a situation where she truly could not comprehend how much she had none. He tried to keep her attention on his face, because she did not need to know how much he was enjoying it.
"Cupiditia, I will not ask again." His smile fading at her silence.
He could tell when he said her name it did something to her. Watching as she bit the inside of her cheek he could feel a spark of lust then immediate shame. He had heard of others of his kind taking pleasure from the mon-keigh as well as pain as the two could easily go hand in hand. He could not deny seeing her in front of him, out of armor, her body a mix of hard muscle and soft curves, her eyes defiant and bright, pain and suffering coming off of her in waves… He had to admit to himself he was more than just curious about it. Especially considering she inflicted such satisfying pain upon herself as his eyes strayed to glance at the self-inflicted lines on her thigh. Smeared and bloody from him toying with her.
"I—" His thoughts interrupted. Finally, he was going to get an answer, "don't know." He let out a low growl in frustration.
"Liar." He spat. He felt her fear burn bright along with a sunburst of rage. It made the air he was breathing heavy and humid as he drunk in her agony.
"I saw you bleeding out and I couldn't let it happen." She said quickly. "My gut instinct is to help."
"We had just killed and tortured your people."
"And we killed yours!" She retorted her rage growing. "And it will keep happening forever and forever and forever and on and on and on until we are all dead. Xenos, Chaos, Humanity, it's all locked in the same stupid battle, the same stupid war; we should all be going after Chaos." She punched the ground, "Throne dammit!!"
He stood up pleasantly surprised by her display.
"I am just tired. Tired of being anxious of falling into heresy for my thoughts and my actions or my inaction," She shot up, adrenaline flushing the drugs from her system and looked up at him. Her face twisted in righteous rage. She grabbed her chest around her heart as if trying to claw it out, "I saw you lying there and in my gut, in my soul, I chose life. I chose kindness for those that the God-Emperor deemed evil. I chose to damn myself. And if kindness is heresy, I will choose it every time." Her eyes appeared to almost glow with her anger.
She hit her fist softly against his chest punctuating her words, "And that is 'why,' Anzryllyss." She let her fist fall to her side her eyes filled with unshed tears as they looked deeply into his own.
Her breathing loud in the quiet of the evening as his own was held within his chest.
He wanted to grab her and tear her apart. He wanted to see what her face looked like as she writhed against him. Her eyes rolling back in pleasure and pain. He wanted her to destroy him. He wanted all of her. He grit his teeth and hissed pointing towards her compound, "Go."
She stepped back in confusion. "I don't understand."
He snarled, his fangs glinting in the green light, "I SAID GO."
She didn't let him tell her a third time. Her boots crunching in the night as she disappeared towards the soft glow along the horizon that would lead her to the Order. He took a single step in her direction, his instinct to chase when a mon-keigh ran from him. Clenching his bloodied hand into a fist and turned away from her until he could no longer feel her fear and pain. Her absence leaving a hole in his soul.
"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" He turned around in his camp running his hands through his long hair. That did not go as planned. He had thought she would end up being a fanatic. That she had saved him for her own Order's nefarious reasons. That would've been easier to understand. He did not actually expect her to just save him for the sake of saving a life.
Her words bouncing around in his head. Heretical kindness.
He felt overpowered, his body feeling like as if it was sparking with electricity. He wanted to use it to overpower her. For him to be overpowered by her. Wanting to hear her demand unspeakable things of him. He already hated himself, but his was a new low.
Defeated he sat down with his face in hands then whispered into the darkness, "Fuck."
Tagging @ladyofparchments and @roche-limit and @motthman322; no pressure at all to share any WIPs! And if you aren't tagged, but want to do it, feel free! Show off your talents! :3
