#I love u Icarus and Glam but I admit defeat….

[emimayooo]

WIP Whenever

Helloooooo🤩✨✨✨!

Guess who needs to get her shit together? MEEEEEE🥰🥰🥰! Cause I have two fics with too-soon-for-comfort due dates: one, for the @fanauthorworkshop (this time, thank fuck i'm not first up) then the second, for the upcoming (by which I mean, in EIGHT DAYS) Galeheart First Times event. I'm so excited for both of these, but I'm also like. Girlie get your shit together LOL.

Tagging fellow participants in either the workshop or the event (not everyone tho cause you guys need ppl to tag too as I've come to realise LOL): @gashousegables @ghostcat3000 @low-fantasy @the-resurrection-3d @nonsequitur22

@asfearlessasamango @rowanisawriter @amarmeme @amorficzna @kvella @beyourlionheart @glamorous-gryphon

okay. fine. I tagged a mega-fuck-ton of ppl anyway. WHATCHA GONNA DO!??! SUE ME!??!!?

Anyway🤣, here's the opening from my upcoming workshop fic, titled "anamnesis", about dementia, tragedy, and hubris (I guess!?):

You don’t remember. Who you are. Where you are. Why you are here, when did you come here—nothing. It’s all blank. Nothing, in that mind of yours, like dreamlessness. All you know is that you are cold, as a feel of snow melting between your bare toes frostbites you, and your stomach growls, for you starve. Something sweet, you’d like to eat. Apple pie, maybe. Like how… (Like how, who?) “Shadowheart!” A voice calls out—familiar? unfamiliar? who cares, who knows, not you, not about anything or anyone—and you look back; your white puffs of breath obscure your vision of the man who is dashing towards you, boots sinking and crunching into the snow as he does so. Perhaps you should be afraid. Yet, you feel safe. Why? He’s wheezing, when he catches up to you, palming his bent-over knees. Through ragged breaths and a sweat-locked fringe, he looks up at you; and you feel this strangely strong urge to brush aside the curled lock stuck to his sweat-flushed forehead, but you do not. [You get the sense that you cannot; also, that you are incapable of a great many deal of things. Were you always like this?] No. You don’t think so. “Shadowheart,” the man rasps, stands straight now, and curls a scarf around your numb neck. “How in Mystra’s name did—” Before he can ask, you ask, “Who are you?” The man blinks, and the snowflakes coating his lashes [float away.] He then sighs. Then smiles, as if to ward away the weariness in his gaze. He takes off his shoes, giving it to you, as he says, “I’m Gale, and I take care of you.”

(*[] means I'm still figuring the sentence out.)

AND THAT'S THAT!

now back to the grind...🚶‍♀️