Author has written 5 stories for Hobbit, and Sherlock.
“The town was paper, but the memories were not.”
Hullo there. I'm rothSpiegelMan, and I write things. The things I write usually have to do with related to hobbits and dwarves, or consulting detectives and jumpers. I also read things. The things I read also have to do with hobbits and dwarves, or consulting detectives and jumpers.
Outside of this site, I do things. Such things include drawing, reading, playing the violin, reading webcomics, researching for my writing, eating Wheat Chex, avoiding my homework, eating chocolate, wearing scarves, looking up men who meet the criteria of Tall, Dark, and British, eating anything really, and screaming about fandoms. The screaming is a bit of a problem. Take comfort in the fact that I'm doing absolutely nothing to help it.
(But to anyone in the theater with me after I saw Desolation of Smaug, or Star Trek, or An Unexpected Journey: I'm so sorry.)
I also like to pretend things. I like to pretend I'm not a first year university student waiting for the gates of Mord- I mean, college to let me loose into the wild. I like to pretend I have some idea of what I like to do when I grow up. Or at least, any idea that does not have to do with certain dwarves and consulting detectives. They are frankly quite hard to find around here. Bastards.
Oh, and I also say offensive things. As does most of my writing. Sorry if that's not to your liking. If it is, welcome to the mothafuckin parade mothafuckaaaas!
Works in progress:
Mirra of Nowhere
When Bilbo meets a mysterious woman in Mirkwood named Mirra, he finds she knows more about Thorin and the quest than is comforting. This prompts a simple question, “How did you meet Thorin?” A question so easy, and yet an answer quite complicated. that fills in the gaps of Thorin's life with no small amount of blood, battles, grief, and above all hope.
When Words Fail Me
Bilbo is a writer; not a great one, but he lives comfortably enough in a cozy house in Massachusetts, where the neighbors gossip over tea and mow their little green lawns and nothing unexpected ever happens. That is, until Bilbo runs into (literally) a batty old man at the grocery store, bringing a whole world of trouble and excitement - and a dark, handsome heir to a mining company - to his once-respectable front door.
Tumblr: (December 2013: should note that I am currently on hiatus, so if you follow me, I cannot follow back at this time. Nothing personal, sorry!)
Archive of Our Own: (go here for lots of Sherlock one-shots)
8tracks (if you so please):
A quote by the stupendous human being known the world around as John Green:
“…because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.”
I don't know what else to say.
So in conclusion, butts, waffles, and the noises that penguins make.
Unsafe External Link