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farfromstrange · 4 months

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Lizzi’s Valentine’s Special & Follower Celebration

Dear Everyone,

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner, and I thought, since this silly little blog hit over 1.1k followers yesterday, I want to give you something special.

First of all, though, I want to thank you. I’ve been on here since (and I checked with the archive) July 19, 2022. I can't believe that it has been almost two years. I started watching Daredevil after watching Spider-Man: No Way Home in December of 2021 and hearing Matt Murdock say, "I'm a really good lawyer," after catching a brick. So, I started watching the show, and that was during a time I was really miserable. Mentally and physically, I wasn't in a good place, but after watching Daredevil for the first time and falling in love with Charlie Cox as a genuine person and an actor, it felt like I found a reason to keep going.

I started writing fanfiction again, which I kind of neglected because I felt like this hobby of mine wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't inspired at all until I watched the show. If I hadn't, I probably would not have gotten back into writing and using it as an outlet for my feelings, and I probably wouldn't be where I am today. Thanks to Charlie's portrayal of Matt Murdock, and watching his interviews, I felt like I could do the things that I love again and follow my dreams. He's the reason I chose to major in English. And while I owe him that much, I owe you guys here on Tumblr and AO3 even more.

When I first posted here, I didn't think people would even be interested in what I had to say and write. But then more and more people started visiting my profile, you guys started following me, and it kept me motivated to keep writing, even when I'm miserable, and I sometimes only post once every blue moon.

I feel so honored that you guys chose to follow a silly little blog run by a silly little 20-something-year-old whose first language isn't even English (but made it her entire personality), and who chose to write about traumatized dark-haired characters portrayed by Charlie Cox. I'm overwhelmed by the love you continue to show me, and every time one of you chooses to reblog or comment on one of my works, saying that it resonated with you, I feel like I'm doing something right. I'm sharing my ideas, my own experiences, my wishes, and even my deepest, darkest dreams through my writing like it's a fucking diary, and you eat it up every single time.

I'm just so glad that this community exists, as chaotic as it sometimes is, and that you chose to stick around, even when I suck at keeping promises sometimes. You keep teaching me new things about who I am, my writing, and how important it is to put myself first. I don't know if you've heard it lately, but you guys are incredible and I appreciate the hell out of every single one of you.

Thanks to Tumblr, I made lifelong friends (especially looking at you, @blackshadowswriter) and found like-minded people that made me feel less alone. That alone was worth making this account and continuing to post on here.

You may think that I'm being dramatic, but for someone who has never really experienced the kind of validation this community gives me, I want to celebrate this milestone. It means more to me than I can even put into words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I love you all so much! Please, don't ever forget how amazing you are.

That being said, I've got some exciting things planned.

The other day, I found a folder in my Docs titled "the vault". I completely forgot about it because I usually keep my WIPs in a different folder. As it turns out, I made that folder for fics that I originally never planned to post, or ones that I'd finished but wasn't happy with. It’s many, but it’s a few. Some are deeper than others. I also jotted down rough ideas and outlines last year that I stuffed in there, some of which I've actually shared with you but never started working on. Until now. And the contents of that vault are what I want to give to you now.

INTRODUCING: The Vault

6 stories from the vault. 1 bonus fic. 7 days.

I went through a myriad of emotions while I wrote these. For some, I actually bled my soul onto paper. For others, it was merely a brain fart that led to their existence. They're sad, horny, and at times angry, but some of those were originally written for me, and only me. Those that weren't started as a few sentences in a folder before I forgot they existed. Either way, I don't want them to catch dust. And I wouldn't want to share them with anyone else.

Starting February 14th, I will be posting one fic every day until February 20th. My “The Vault” works are Matt Murdock x Reader works, but I've made an exception for the bonus fic. I won't tell you what they are about, but I will give you a list of installments and what kind of fic they are so you know what to be excited about (and maybe which ones are not your cup of tea).

-> The number at the end tells you the date I will be posting it on, but I put it in chronological order as well.

INSTALLMENTS:

1. If You Need To Be Mean (angst, hurt/comfort) 14.

2. Mismatched Bridesmaid (fluff, smut) 15.

3. Weed Cookies (humor, fluff, cw: accidental drug use) 16.

4. the grudge (songfic, angst, hurt/comfort, cw: death of a parent) 17.

5. Halloween (Smut) 18.

6. I Want To Fuck A Priest (Smut, cw: priest!Matt) 19.

BONUS:

7. Now That We Don’t Talk (Part 2 of Is It Over Now?) -> Frank Castle x Reader (smut, angst) 20.

A few more words: You are free to send me an ask if you want to know more, but be prepared that I won't be answering in much detail. I don't want to spoil the fun. I would, however, not mind talking about them as vaguely as possible (if you’re interested).

Thank you all. For everything. And I hope you stick around to read these little gems.

With love from yours truly,

Lizzi <3

#lizzi writes #follower celebration #valentine’s day #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #frank castle x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 months

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Survivor Blues

DEAD WOOD: JOEL'S POV

A/N: After far too long, this one is back in action! I have missed writing this story so darn much and it feels great to be back with these characters. This interlude has been living in my wip folder for a damn year, and I am really exciting to finally be sharing it. It takes place immediately following the events of Part Five, and it marks the first time that we get to see things through Joel's eyes in this universe. (It also alludes to some things that I haven't expanded on within this story yet, but that I am so SO excited to.)

Series Masterlist

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: language, mention of character death, loss, grief, trauma, brief description of injury, Ellie is a snarky teenager, PLOT SPOILERS FOR TLOU, feel free to message me if you have questions (it's actually a lot more hopeful than the title makes it sound)

Summary: Home from the supply run, Joel contemplates how far he's come since arriving in Jackson... and hopes that it will be the same for you. Tommy and Ellie - of course - have thoughts and opinions on things, too.

By the time Joel got home after a quick stop at the clinic, it was past seven, the house - and Ellie’s garage - both standing dark and empty against the beginnings of night.

She must be out with friends. Good.

It had taken a few years, but he was finally in a place where her absence didn’t immediately put him on edge. When they first settled into the house on Rancher Street, Joel would insist that Ellie stay at Tommy and Maria’s anytime he was gone overnight. Even the walls and the close knit community couldn’t fully satisfy that need to know that she was safe then. But now a note stuck to the refrigerator with a magnet telling him where she’d gone was more than sufficient.

Which was exactly what he found when he entered the kitchen. Plucking the piece of paper from the fridge door and leaning against the counter, he read the girl’s hastily scrawled words.

Joel,

Not sure when you’re getting back but I might not be here when you do. Staying with some friends tonight and tomorrow. I’ll be home on Tuesday. Movie night - don’t forget!

-Ellie

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Like I’d ever forget movie night, kiddo.

Getting that back - that time with her where they could just be a family, laughing together and watching some movie that was made fifteen years before she was born, that time that both of them desperately craved where they could put down all the things they carried and all the things they’d gone through even if only for 120 minutes at a time - that was a gift he would never take for granted. Her eventual forgiveness and understanding, once he’d finally explained his reasoning for the choices he made, was everything to Joel. And it was still fresh. The two of them were still awkwardly trying to find their way back to the kind of relationship they had before the lie came to light. But it was a chance that Joel never imagined he’d get, and it wasn’t one he would ever squander.

He raised his hand to stick Ellie’s note back on the refrigerator door for now, but paused before using the same faded orange Longhorns magnet that she had used to secure it. Instead, he dug into his back pocket and pulled out a new one. Turning it over in his palm, Joel glanced down at the yellow letters spelling out Wyoming and remembered the look on your face when he handed you one identical to it that morning.

It wasn’t really a smile, more like the framework of one, a hint of what it would look like fully fleshed out. It was different from the ones he’d seen you wear while working in the bakery or waving to someone on the street. Those were pleasantries that you were refamiliarizing yourself with. This one touched your eyes, softening them for a few seconds. It made Joel wonder what he unearthed with that small gesture - what part of your former life he’d been able to reach and awaken, at least partially. He didn’t bother with wondering what it meant that he’d taken an identical magnet for himself.

With a sigh, he used the gas station souvenir to tack up Ellie’s note where he’d found it. Keeping his injured arm down at his side, he reached to open the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled down a glass and the bottle he kept there. He let out a grunt as he twisted the cap off, needing to use both hands to do so and being punished for the miniscule movement with a throb of discomfort through his bicep. Shit, that hurts.

Though your work had held up just fine all the way back to Jackson, the wound had still garnered a hiss and a wince from the nurse on duty at the clinic. Using a cloth and clear grain alcohol, she’d carefully cleaned between and around the stitches, telling him that he was lucky he had someone with him who knew what they were doing, because the cut was deep and without closing it properly, he would have lost a lot more blood than he did. Slathering the area with an antiseptic cream, she re-wrapped his arm and sent him on his way, recommending that he not get the stitches wet for a good two days.

Gonna have to stick my arm outta the shower I guess. First thing’s first, though.

But before he could finish making himself a drink, he was interrupted by the call of his name. “Joel?” Tommy’s voice joined the stomp of his boots as he climbed the porch stairs and let himself through the front door. “Hey, Joel? Where-”

I shoulda known he’d be over.

Holly, the nurse at the clinic, was close friends with Maria. There was no way that she didn’t radio over to let Maria know that she’d just taken care of her brother-in-law. And that meant that Tommy knew, too.

“Kitchen,” Joel answered, cutting his brother’s question short and reaching into the cupboard for a second glass. Setting it on the counter, he opened the freezer and scooped a few ice cubes into his palm before dividing them between the two tumblers. They clinked against the cut glass but fell silent as Joel poured a few fingers of whiskey in each, turning around in time to see Tommy appear in the doorway. “Hey, little brother.”

Tommy’s eyes were alert as he gave Joel the once over, his heightened focus settling on the bandage on his arm. “Shit, you alright? Holly said-”

“M’fine, Tommy.” He picked up one of the glasses and handed it over, the younger man accepting it with visible relief. “Just a cut. Fell into some broken glass.”

Tommy raised one eyebrow. “You fell, huh?”

Joel rolled his eyes with a gruff groan. “Couple’a infected caught us by surprise at the eye doctor. Nothin’ we couldn’t handle.” He leaned back against the counter and lifted his glass to his lips, taking a swig.

“Jesus.” Tommy took a drink, too, bending forward to rest his elbows on the island in the center of the kitchen. He set his glass down but kept his fingers around it, forehead furrowing as he spoke your name in the form of a question. “She’s alright, too? Holly didn’t say anything about-”

Joel shook his head. “She’s fine, Tommy. Didn’t even have to stop at the clinic, so Holly didn’t see her.” He took another small drink, letting the rich amber liquid coat his tongue before swallowing. “She went straight back to her place from the stables.”

“Good.” Tommy nodded and blew out a breath, the last of the worry leaving his expression. “That’s good.” He cleared his throat and swirled the contents of his glass, watching the ice slide around the sides. “And uh… she did alright?” His eyes came back up then. “I mean, dealin’ with the infected and all?”

Joel recalled the way you snapped immediately into action, shifting seamlessly from defense to attack, muscle memory taking over and guiding your blade exactly where it needed to go without hesitation.

Alright’s an understatement.

You’d had a moment of panic in the aftermath, but though Joel was certain that was what Tommy was asking about with the addition of “and all”, he decided not to consider it in his response. Your explanation was solid. No harm had been done, and he didn’t think it warranted mentioning. Nor did the fact that he had only been knocked through the glass display case because he’d glanced in your direction first to make sure you didn’t need help.

We’re both fine. No point in worryin’ him over nothin’. She’s no more of a liability on a run than I am. She just… she needs time. Like we all did.

“Yeah,” he answered, brows pinched together as he took another drink. He shrugged his bandaged arm out in front of him. “She even patched me up once we were in the clear.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “Well, shit.” The tiniest twitch of his mustache gave away a hidden smirk, and he used the hand holding his glass to point at Joel. “You mean you actually let someone take care of you?”

Joel rolled his eyes again. “Shut it, Tommy.”

That got a laugh out of him, the younger man setting his glass on the island to lift both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just messin’ with you, big brother.” He smiled, a smaller chuckle slipping through it as his hands dropped to the counter. “Really, though.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’re both okay.”

“Yeah.” Your near-smile flashed in Joel’s memory again as his eyes shifted to the magnet on the refrigerator. “Me too.” The kitchen fell silent for a handful of seconds, both men finishing their drinks before Joel spoke again. “Hey, do… do you remember that time you gave me a hand takin’ down the old oak tree in the yard?”

Tommy blinked, clearly surprised by the question, but didn’t ask why Joel had brought it up. Instead, he tilted his head, brow furrowed as he sorted through his memories. The moment he dug the right one from its hiding spot, his expression changed. The creases in his forehead smoothed out and gave way to curved lines around his mouth as he broke into a smile.

“Yeah.” He let out a huff of laughter, hanging his head and letting it shake from side to side before lifting it again. When he did he was still smiling, though there was a bittersweet shadow behind it. I know. You miss her too. “I remember us catchin’ hell for it.”

We sure did. Joel tipped the bottle to fill both glasses with a half measure, then screwed the cap back on and put the bottle back in the cabinet it came from.

The tree in question had been Sarah’s favorite. A swing hung from one of its branches, and Joel had tacked scraps of wood into the trunk that she used as footholds to scamper up so she could sit in the Y-shaped split in the center. And though she was only seven at the time, she had put up quite a fight when it came to taking it down. Joel could still picture the determined scowl on her face as she sat against the trunk. She had her scrawny arms crossed over her chest as she informed her father and her uncle that she wouldn’t let them kill her tree. What she didn’t know was that the tree was diseased, and that if left alone, not only would it become a safety hazard, but it ran the risk of infecting other nearby trees.

He matched Tommy’s smile. “That girl all but tied herself to that damn trunk.” Joel always had the suspicion that if she had the time and an accomplice to help her with the knots, she would have. “She could be persistent, huh?”

Tommy hummed. “Wonder where she got that from. What is it they say about apples again?” He laughed, but then curiosity got the better of him. “What…” He coughed to clear his throat. “What made you think’a that?”

I’m gettin’ to it. “You remember how I had to prove to her that the tree was sick? Took my pocket knife and scratched the bark so she could see it was already dyin’ underneath?” She had gasped when the scratch test revealed a grayish, ashy underlayer, her eyes going wide and her bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill as her outrage instantly turned to fear for the other trees in the yard. “I had to scrape ‘em all, show her the rest of ‘em were still green and alive, even though they all looked the same on the outside.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed and he swallowed. “Yeah… Where you goin’ with this, Joel?”

“I been thinkin’ about how it’s like that for people, too. It was like that for me. It was like that for me for a long time, Tommy.” Tilting the glass in his hand, he watched the amber liquid collect in the corner of it, shining gold through the cut crystal where the overhead light struck. “Scratch test came up gray for years. Thought I’d never really feel anything again… Thought I was done.”

Straightening the glass, he let its contents slosh back to cover the bottom before bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. Honey and malt slid over his tongue, a subtle layer of smoke and spice following as he swallowed. Back in Boston, drinking wasn’t something he did for enjoyment or relaxation. It wasn’t for savoring or even tasting, really. Then he drank to forget. To sleep. To turn it all off. Here in Jackson though, he could share a drink with his brother and remember.

Remember what life tasted and looked and felt like. Remember his daughter. Remember who he was beneath all the dead wood around his heart.

“Yeah.” Tommy’s eyes were on his own glass, a frown pulling at his mouth and etching creases between his eyebrows again. “I know.” He cleared his throat and took a long swig, finishing his drink with a wince that cracked into a fool’s gold grin - one that Joel knew was covering feelings of guilt and empathy and other things Tommy still felt compelled to atone for even though Joel had tried his best to lay those things to rest in the years since their reunion. We were no good to each other like that, little brother. We would have just broken each other. I don’t blame you for leavin’. Not anymore. Tommy reached over, grin still stretched across his face but growing more genuine as he clapped Joel on the shoulder of his good arm. “But you ain’t done, you old fucker. Not yet.”

That was thanks almost entirely to Ellie and they both knew it. The girl was determined, borderline relentless, same as Sarah had been with the tree. She had been the one to keep scratching, keep digging, keep checking for the hint of green under all that twisted, lifeless gray. And when she found it, all the things that he thought had disappeared started coming out of their dormancy.

Things like jokes and laughter. Memories. The capacity to care deeply for others again. Things like movie nights. The things that made surviving the worst worthwhile.

It was also thanks in part to Jackson - and to Tommy and Maria for welcoming him and Ellie into their lives. Some days it terrified him, allowing himself to have so much to lose again. There were still times he worried that he had peeled back too many of those hardened layers. That he’d let his guard down too much, exposed his heart to happiness for too long and that it would all be lost to blight. But even on those days he knew what Tommy had just said to be true - that he wasn’t done yet.

And neither is she.

Joel spoke your name then, nodding solemnly. “I think it’s been like that for her for a long time, too.”

Tommy sighed. “Yeah.” He finished his drink and walked over to set the empty glass in the sink. “I got that impression, too.” Turning around, he tilted his head to one side. “You said she was alright on the trip though. Somethin’ happen?”

Joel took a breath in through his nose, letting it back out slowly. “Just…” He tapped his pointer finger absently against the glass he still held. “I think I saw that in her. The green underneath. I think… bein’ here is… it’s helpin’ her.” Even if she’s got a long way to go. “It’s… she’s still in there.”

You were. And Joel realized, for the first time since meeting Tess all those years ago in Boston, that he wanted to know that person - the person who showed him the hint of a genuine smile, the person who carefully and gently patched him up, the person who shared a coveted instant coffee packet with him to pass the time and stay warm on a chilly night. And that scares the hell outta me.

“Well that’s-” Tommy’s smile had nothing but warmth behind it that time. “That’s real good to hear.” He stepped away from the counter and towards the kitchen door then, bringing his hands together. “Well, I’ll get outta here so you can get yourself cleaned up and all. Just had to make sure you were good after we heard from Holly.”

Joel nodded, following him out into the living room. “Yeah. How’d you put it? Thanks for still givin’ a shit about me?” He heard his brother snort out a laugh before turning around to face him again.

“Yeah, exactly.” He paused then, the joking smile falling away to reveal something more serious yet still full of relief and warmth. When he spoke again his words were quiet, but they made a big impact. “It’s real good to hear you talk about Sarah again, too.”

With that, he left, and Joel was left to respond to the empty room. “Yeah. It is.”

– – –

Twenty minutes later he was drying off from the shower when he heard the sound of the back door opening, followed by the call of his name.

“Joel? You home?” Ellie’s voice was muffled by the closed door and the towel that he was dragging over his hair.

Ellie? Thought she was stayin’ out tonight?

He called back. “Yeah. Gimme five minutes, I’ll be right down.”

Moving from the bathroom into his bedroom, Joel pulled clean clothes and underwear from his dresser - a pair of thick navy blue sweatpants along with a dark gray t- shirt and a pair of wool socks. Easing the shirt carefully over his wrapped bicep, he sighed, knowing that as soon as Ellie saw it she would react. She hated seeing him injured, as anyone would hate to see someone they cared about get hurt. But Joel knew that in her case, it was more than that. In her case, it reminded her of those dark days in Colorado, when she did all she could to keep him alive and still wasn’t sure he would make it through the night.

It won’t always be like that, though. ‘Least I hope not. For her sake.

The thought of covering it up with a loose fitting flannel or long sleeved shirt didn’t even occur to him, though. After coming clean about everything that happened in Salt Lake City with the Fireflies and the doctor they were working with, Joel made a solemn vow to himself that he’d never withhold the truth from her again. Even when it might hurt. Especially when it might hurt. Because he knew that nothing he’d done in that hospital had hurt her more than the lie he told her on the outskirts of Jackson.

And I’ll never do that to her again.

As he made his way down the stairs, he heard her moving around in the kitchen, the sound of plates being set on the counter meeting his ears. “I’m making sandwiches,” she yelled when the fourth step from the bottom creaked under his weight. “You want one?”

“Sure, kiddo.” What happened to stayin’ with your friends? Everything alright?” He wasn’t trying to distract her by keeping her talking before she saw his arm, but Joel wanted her to hear it in his voice that he was okay.

She groaned. “Kat and Dina are having some kind of stupid drama and I didn’t wanna get sucked into it so I decided to come home. You know, they’re both important to me but sometimes they can just - Fuck! Joel! What the?”

He’d walked into the kitchen at the same time that she looked up from the slices of bread that she was piling with leftover chicken, the sight of him making her stop what she was doing and scramble around the island to stand in front of him.

“Hey, hey, it’s…” He held up both hands, only wincing a little at the pull of his stitches when he lifted his arm. “I’m fine, Ellie. Just a cut.”

“Well …” Her eyes were wide but she tore them from the bandage to look up at him. “Well, what happened? I thought it was supposed to be an easy run?”

“It was. But you know as well as I do that easy runs can turn, yeah?” He reached forward, placing his hand on her shoulder and tilting his head to the side. “Hey. I’m okay, kiddo.” Giving her a light squeeze, he waited for her to nod and accept what he was saying, and then he shot a glance at the half-finished sandwiches. “C’mon, I’m starvin’. Let’s eat and I’ll fill you in.”

Just like he did the night that he and Tommy brought you into town, Joel sat down and told her everything that happened at the optometrist’s office - how the pair of infected had seemingly come from nowhere and were suddenly on the two of you, how the one that lunged at him managed to knock him backwards and through a glass case, how you had made sure that the wound was cleaned and tended to as best as you could. And though she had been concerned and rattled at the beginning of his story, Ellie was wearing something close to a smirk as he finished.

“Oh.” She bit off a mouthful of her sandwich, raising her eyebrows as she chewed and speaking again before she swallowed. “So you like… really trust this chick, huh?”

Joel clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Her too? First Tommy and now- “That’s your comment? Not ‘Well I’m glad you had someone there to help you, Joel’?”

Ellie rolled her eyes right back. “Yeah, yeah that too. But I mean…” She gave a casual, one-shouldered shrug. “First you let her take care of you, then you decide to both sleep at the same time instead of taking shifts?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. “You never do that unless it’s me or Tommy.” Something dawned on her then, and she turned mid-chew toward the sink, gesturing towards it with the hand that still held what was left of her sandwich. “Wait. Is that why there’s two glasses in there? Did she come over when you got back to town?”

“What? No. Ellie…” He sighed, and shook his head. “No. There’s two glasses in the sink because Tommy was here earlier, not-”

“Well you should invite her over for dinner then. As a thank you-” She emphasized her intention to silence his protest. “- for sewing you up, you know?”

Joel took a bite of his food, chewing it slowly to buy himself more time before answering. The idea of having you in his home, sharing a meal, talking and laughing - he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like it. But I don’t know if she…

He thought back to his own first few months in Jackson and how skittish he was every time someone would try to include him in anything that wasn’t directly related to security or survival. It all still seemed so impractical. Cookouts and movie nights and holidays while the world outside the walls continued to crumble? And then there was the guilt. That grating, shredding near-constant feeling that he shouldn’t be there - shouldn’t be safe, shouldn’t be happy or comfortable or even alive - not when Tess didn’t get to be there too. Not when Sarah never had a chance to. You hadn’t said much about the things you’d been through or the people you’d lost, other than that you’d recently lost your nephew. But Joel knew from experience that while those devastating wounds never fully healed, they did become less raw when they were given some time.

I’d like it. But I don’t know if she’s ready for somethin’ like that. He swallowed and brought a hand up to wipe his mouth. Yet.

“Maybe when the weather’s nicer an’ we can cook outside.” He got up from the table and took his plate with him, setting it in the sink next to the two glasses.

The scrape of chair legs on the floor told him that Ellie had gotten up, too, the girl appearing at his elbow to stack her plate atop his. “What does the weather have to do with-” He shot her a look then and she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. But we’re circling back to this in June.”

Joel leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Speakin’ of circling back, you said somethin’ about your friends fightin’? You wanna talk about that?” He lifted one eyebrow as she shot him a look of her own.

“I do not.”

Joel snorted a laugh. “Alright, then. Just try not to go breakin’ too many hearts, yeah? You don’t-”

Without missing a beat, Ellie grabbed the dish towel that was hanging on the oven handle, balling it up and throwing it at his face. “Shut up.” She was laughing too, though, bending down to pick up the towel after Joel had batted it away. “So stupid.” Straightening back up with an exaggerated sigh, she whipped the towel onto the countertop. “On that note, I’m gonna get outta here.” She glanced at his arm, mouth dipping into a quick frown that was gone by the time she looked back up at his face. “I’m glad you’re home, Joel. Have a good night.”

He smiled, chest warming as he did. “G’night, kiddo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that she turned and was nearly out the door when something caught her eye and she stopped in front of the refrigerator. “Hey, you got a new magnet.” She pointed at the note she’d left him, now stuck up with the square-ish shape of Wyoming. “I used the cowhead one but this one’s-” She looked over her shoulder, a smirk beginning to grow. “You brought home a souvenir from your trip, huh? So you could remember it? Any reason for that?”

Joel narrowed his eyes at her, but all it did was pull a laugh out of her. “Good night, Ellie.” She laughed all the way down the back porch steps but Joel didn’t mind. She ain’t wrong.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know! You can also fill out the form on my masterlist!

Tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @amb11 @mindidjarin @jk7789 @tentacruels @cannedsoupsucks @harriedandharassed @marauderskeeper @joelmillerscoffee @woodlandmouth @swtaura @grfields @valkblue @stealyourblorbos @sleepylunarwolf @trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @wildmoonflower @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns @competentpotato @pedro-pedrito-pascalito @mumma-moonchild @jedi-in-crocs @hannahkatharine @anoverwhelmingdin @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @Noisynightmarepoetry

#survivor blues interlude #survivor blues #tlou fic #joel miller #pedrostories #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #tlou joel #tlou ellie #ellie williams #tommy miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal character #survivor blues: joel pov #survivor blues: dead wood

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luketaluketa · 11 months

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i was organizing some files and found all the wip stuff from the previous secret samol for @/seamonsterart (go check out their work!), and these are two of my favorite illustrations ever, so here's some insight into how i made these!

for starters i already had a pretty much finished design for pickman that i had first drawn back in 2021

she has a completely wrong gun in this version because i did not remember how it was supposed to look like and couldn't find a description of it anywhere. she's wearing a hat because i forgot it was supposed to be a helm and so i ended up giving her the large hat just because the long horns coming through it are a fun image, though today i cannot imagine her wearing anything else. she already has the sword she takes from the lake skeletons, also. her armor is based on the armor the torumekian soldiers and kushana wear in nausicaa of the valley of the wind, with the incredible neck guard and long cape covering their entire body

i've always loved these designs and how the plates are evocative of insects, but also how mysterious they look with covered faces and bodies. matter of fact, at this point i had no fucking idea what pickman looked like below the cape.

the second inspiration is the young man from angel's egg.

OK, STAY WITH ME. i cannot explain this other that in my head pickman and him are VERY similar characters. the image of the half pulled cape while he holds his sword-cross-thing over his shoulder and the quiet demeanor are pretty fundamental to how i try to make pickman FEEL. i actually wanted her armor to have more piping, pulling from the biomechanical appearance of his sword-cross, but it didn't feel quite right

and the third inspiration is less inspiration and more reference work, the book "arms & armor, a pictorial archive" by carol grafton

it's a compilation of illustration works sourced from several books from the 19th century. VERY cool book to take a look at historical armor. it's on the internet archive for free!

there was also a fair ammount of looking at goats and sheep, but eventually i reached this after learning i suck at drawing furry designs. big shoutout to the furry community for making so many tutorials available btw. in highlight a very important study of the character.

now that i kinda knew what pickman looked like i entered the wonderful phase of "i don't know what the fuck i'm doing" which resulted in a bunch of bad doodles now sitting in a folder dubbed "dev hell". at this point i kinda had an idea for a relaxed scene based on one of the prompts, which i developed for a while on blender but eventually gave up on.

i then moved on to the second prompt, of pickman being badass. i decided on a low angle to make pickman look incredibly tall but the low angle of a goat's head legitimately kicked my ass so i eventually made a goat head on blender and used it to generate references with the help of designdoll. here i made her design a lot more muscular and fat, also, eventually coming to her final design.

the valve on her chestplate looks WRONG to me now, but at the time i was so tired i just rolled with it. the first pass of her armor was in a completely wrong color, which i corrected later on photoshop. i added the little metal forks pulling from her 2021 design, and the idea of little musical forks for atunning to the shape was cool to me. i also corrected her gun after actually learning what the fuck it was supposed to look like. i already knew i wanted her to be standing on the field of canola flowers, and the sky in the background was the last thing i added, also the time when i decided to really make the picture tall.

i liked the final result so much i went back and started working on the first prompt again. had a horrible time drawing the horns in the second image which led to this hell cage for building the perspective. im still not confident on the horns on the side of the head. i wanted to bring the atmosphere of a cold winter or fall morning in the second one, and to make pickman seem tired but relaxed. i overall like the second picture a lot more than the first and was very happy with how it came out.

AND THAT'S HOW THE SAUSAGE IS MADE I GUESS. if you read this whole thing then thank you for your time!

#fatt #f@tt #friendsatthetable #friends at the table #pickman #ernestina pickman #sangfielle #wip #breakdown #luketaart #brazilian artists

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gingernut1314 · 5 months

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Wip Round Up

Thank you for the tag @fanaticsnail .... unfortunately it's the same things I've been working on for like, the past month 😬

Though to make this a little more interesting, I'll add some loosely thought-out ideas I've been brewing up and hope to get to in the future!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

Buggy:

Songbird pt. 9 -> finished and published!

Siren Song pt. 1

The Luck Child - Chapter 2 -> finished and uploaded!

The Contortionist:

an idea I got from the song of the same name by Melanie Martinez. It would be about the skittish contortionist character I've sprinkled into most of my Buggy works here...if anyone noticed her. It might be a spin-off to my The Agreement series, but it could also work as a stand-alone. This might be my first Oc fic on here if I ever get around to writing it!

Mihawk:

Little Game pt. 4

Confidence pt. 3 (request)

Sanji:

Through Shadow pt. 3

Dancing in the rain:

This is another fic set during the Alabasta arc (sorry I can't help it. It's my favorite arc so far). You came from Alabasta and you went looking for Princess Vivi so you've been traveling with the Straw Hats since you found her again. The main "story" for this fic is going to be when rain finally comes back to your home and you are so happy you finally laugh again and it a sound Sanji has never heard you make before (and he loves it obviously lol). You ask him to dance in the rain and that's all I have so far about that one. I envisioned this idea while listening to the song September by Sparky Deathcap. Just For One Dance -> finished and published!

Zoro:

The one thing Zoro can find

Demons and Claws pt. 2 (requested) -> finished and uploaded!

Shanks:

Feral Attraction

Drunk Kisser:

Shanks is a drunk kisser. I think it's something we can all agree on lol. The idea is he's kissed everyone on his crew but you....drama ensues, maybe you'll get a little kiss...or two

Alvida:

Pink and Glitter (request)

Nami:

She gives you a glass of water

You're training with Zoro on the deck and Nami give you a glass of water. It's very suspicious because she has never once done something like that for the others. You and Zoro are just kinda confused about it until Usopp starts teasing Nami.....I haven't decided if this is gonna be a spicy fic or not...and that's all I have for this one

Crocodile:

Blood and Sand

Your blood has the ability to amplify Devil Fuirt user's abilities and Crocodile takes what he wants....that's it so far ahhhh! 🫣

No pressure tags!

@galaxycunt , @lostfirefly , @empressofmankind (anything new since last time?? I would love to see it!)

#wips #my wips #my ideas #one piece

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silenzahra · 1 day

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🦈, 🌎 and 🖍 for the ask game.

Oh and here’s a few ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ kudos everywhere!

In reference to this ask game ✨

Thank you sooo much for asking! 🥰💖💖

🦈 - Oh, so you wanna know a title, huh? 🤭 Okay! I must thank my bestie @bberetd as she was the one to give me the suggestion to name my Luaisy wedding fic...

Green, Gold and tons of Purple 💚💛💜

I personally LOVE it 😍😍😍 It works perfectly well as a sort of continuation to Green, Orange and a bit of Purple, my Luaisy first kiss fic, so it was a straight "YES" as soon as she suggested it!!! 😁😁😁 I don't know yet when this fic will be ready (I haven't even started writing it lol), but I'm very happy to make its title public! 🥰

🌍 - I just answered this one here! 💖

🖍 - Oh... you caught me with this one, not gonna lie 😅 Right now the only official WIP that I have almost written is the nightmare one, and I've already shared a paragraph here, so I've spent I don't even know how much time looking through my folders, trying to find another WIP that has something moderately written to share... and luckily, I've found the little dialogue that will start the Luisley fic I wanna write at some point this summer! 💚💛

"We had to leave the Beanbean Kingdom, but I'm totally convinced the prince still thinks about you." Luigi says nothing, but as he averts his eyes, he turns even redder. And Mario notices. "And you think about him too! Mamma mía, we have to go back to the Beanbean Kingdom!"

I know it's not much, but I honestly find this very cute 🥹 And the rest of the dialogue includes some teasing regarding not only Peasley, but also Peach 🤭

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

#ask #writers ask game #ask game #ask away #ask me anything #send asks #answered asks #WIPs #silenzahra

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greenapricot · 2 months

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Hi there! I love The Names of All the Winds ❤️ and it's amazing (and impressive!) to hear that you actively work on it daily!! For the files in your WIP folder, can you tell me something about Locked in a Cupboard (Champagne) from Lewis? It has a very intriguing title!

I'm so glad! I love TNoAtW too, and I love working on it. I've found that the best way to keep myself motivated to finish a long fic is to keep poking at it every day, even if it's only 10 min of cleaning up notes I left to myself :)

There are actually 3 Locked in a Cupboard files, the champagne one is the most viable version. IIRC the premise came from a line in one of @thankyouforbeingsowrong's fics (or possibly a reply to a comment I left on her fic). The premise is James pulls Robbie into a cupboard during a black tie networking event they've both been forced to go to, to avoid getting roped into a project they don't want to be part of. Also, they're both a bit tipsy and wearing tuxes.

Robbie raises his glass at him. “Could be right up your street.” James narrows his eyes, giving Robbie a look of betrayal that is probably only half put-on. “He’s looking for an inspector to head up the project as well. Ideally one who has, or can foster, a close working relationship with the sergeant,” James says, clearly quoting DCC Babcock. “There will be a fair amount of speech giving and networking involved for the inspector. The sergeant will mostly do ground work,” he pronounces with a raised eyebrow. “Ah.” “Yeah.” James nods, leaning his head back against the door, his fingers twitch against the wood. The angle of James’ neck and the shadows from the one badly placed light in the cupboard accentuate the sharp line of his jaw, his cheekbones, and Robbie—not for the first time—has to resist the urge to reach for him. To touch the sharp line of James’ jaw, to find out if the velvet of his jacket is as soft as it looks, to run his fingers through the short hair at the nape of James’ neck. “So we’re in the cupboard,” Robbie says. “Yep.” James grins, raising his half empty glass of champagne to Robbie and downing the last of it. Robbie can’t help but watch the bob of James’ Adam’s apple as he swallows, the line of his throat as he tilts his head back against the door again with a soft thump, his now empty champagne glass dangling carelessly from his fingers. “Couldn't find a back garden with a swing.” He had looked beautiful that night too, in the moonlight—though Robbie hadn’t yet admitted to himself what looking at his sergeant and thinking he was beautiful actually meant—as he sat there on Laura’s garden swing hiding out from a party a lot less fancy than this, swigging on his pilfered bottle of champagne. “You saved me,” Robbie says with a smirk. “How valiant of you.” James smirks right back. “All part of a sergeant’s duties.”

Ask me about my wips

#wip meme #fic meme #my fic

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rockingrobin69 · 1 year

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In celebration of joy

This is actually a snip from a wip (700 words) and also a ‘hey I’m alive’ and most of all, it’s a (humble!!) present for my pride and joy @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm who is out there being the best in us etc. etc. Joy, I love you, I love you, I love you. And so does this special lil guy.

The coffee machine went on a strike on a Tuesday, roughly around nine. A big notice all over the screen, CHANGE FILTER that didn’t relent no matter what Draco attempted. He changed the damn filter, three times. Changed the water. Emptied and reloaded the bean tray. Nothing worked: the notice remained, and the smell of coffee pervaded the kitchenette, made his eyes water.

The manual was in Italian, which, according to his CV, shouldn’t be a problem. Apparently there was a world of difference between chatting up pretty boys in the Piazza and fine mechanics. Apparently, Draco was equally rubbish at both. And the coffee machine, blast it to high hell, kept at its pouty, childish rebellion.

He didn’t even like coffee. Did have an espresso every once in a while, half in punishment, half-reward. Drowned it in sugar until no flavour was discernible, went on a glucose-fuelled paperwork rampage, terrorising the office till the inevitable crash. But he liked making coffees for some of the others—liked being trusted with a task he could perform. The coffee machine was tricky, needed a gentle touch: the frothing settings, the roast, all had to be perfectly calibrated. Usually he had it. And now, change filter, and no coffee in sight.

He's going to have to go back to Harry empty-handed.

Going to have to look him in the eye and say, hey, so, remember when you hired me, all that long month ago, and I promised I’d do my very best? Right. Yes, failed at the most basic of tasks today, what else could you expect. Also, please don’t fire me.

Draco rubbed his eyes a little harsher than recommended. Bore the angry flashes behind his eyelids, tried to breathe. Why must everything be a panic, why couldn’t he just. Be normal about this. Be a man, not a muppet, for a change.

Opened his eyes, grit his teeth till the world un-blurried itself. Took a deep breath. Went back to the manual, skimmed till he found the right place, and tried again.

In the end he ran down to the Costa across the street. Took him exactly forty minutes and twenty-three seconds to get back at Harry’s office door, red-faced and soaking wet, but with the flat white he’s promised. Tried not to look too smug about it as he sauntered through, gently laid the cup (still hot, he thought, he hoped) next to Harry’s computer screen.

“Thanks,” murmured Harry, not even looking up from the folder open on his desk. “Mm, that smells nice.”

Draco allowed himself a little smile. “No problem, Mr. Potter.”

As he knew, that zapped Harry’s attention back to him. He flushed so easily, and so sweetly too, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose for an excuse to use his hands. Calling Harry Mr. Potter always had the same effect—sometimes, when Draco was feeling rather cheeky, he even threw in a Sir, just to watch him flail.

“Erm. Yes. Thank you, Draco. Are—why are you wet?”

“Hmm?” looked down, remembered. “Oh. It’s raining again.”

Harry turned his head to the window, stared for a moment. “Yes,” he said, chewing on a poor lower lip. “Yes, it is indeed.”

Winding Harry up sure was one of the biggest perks of the job, but Draco actually had work to do. “Anything else, Mr. Potter?” (couldn’t help himself, he just couldn’t). “If you wouldn’t mind, the paperwork for Mr. Dougherty’s case requires further attention.”

More of the fidgeting. “No, no, that’s quite all right. Certainly, er, important that you get to it.” Draco nodded, and was already at the door when he heard, “Wait, why does the cup say Costa?”

Rushed out of Harry’s office without closing the door behind him. The prat never did anyway. Went back to the kitchenette, opened the manual, and a pocket dictionary from the shop right next door to blasted Costa. (The Dougherty dossier was compiled and completed two days ago. Not his fault he was good at his job). Stared the machine down until it bowed before him, spilled its mechanical guts.

He’ll get it, eventually. He thought. He hoped.

#drarry wip #office draco for the win #rockingrobin69 #everything is for joy always but this one is also.

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fragilecapric0rnn · 1 year

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“it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyway” for the prompt thing!! (-patheticgirlsteve)

OKAY SO this prompt is from a prompt list I rb'd in December (wowza!) and I found the writing for this prompt half finished in my WIPs folder today and decided to finish it!

This ficlet is also a look into the in-progress When Harry Met Sally-inspired AU/canon divergence fic. I've been sitting on both that fic and this snippet for far too long and have been itching to share something. So, here's the something!

(something set in the late summer of '98, in a city that doesn't bode well during heat waves)

It’s an unusually hot night in Steve’s apartment.

It's going to be an unusually hot week in the city, actually.

Steve has gotten used to the temperate San Francisco weather in the 11 years he's been a resident. But after 11 years, he's still surprised at the random bursts of heat that creep in during these last few weeks of August. Just in time for him and his students to sit inside the toaster oven that is his classroom during the first week of school.

Thankfully, it's not a school night. The last week of his summer vacation, and he's spent most of the daylight hours dangling half of his body out of the screen-less street-facing window in his apartment, praying a breeze would whip past him. (It didn't).

After an hour of tossing and turning in bed, in nothing but a pair of boxers, the open window providing no relief, the air stale and hot and a bit sticky, he decided to move to the living room, where he will still be suffering, but at least there's a TV out there.

A movie he remembers seeing with Robin in the theater during their Oakland days is playing as soon as he flicks on the TV, reminding him of how long it's been since they've lived together, let alone in that first apartment in Oakland. Freshly 20 and 21, figuring out how to live on their own, thousands of miles from everyone and everything they knew. Figuring out how to deal with the calmness of it all.

Remembers talking about the movie again in '92, and being annoyed with all of his friends (Eddie and Nancy) who thought that Lloyd and Diane broke up in London. Wonders if they're still as cynical about love today as they were back then.

As he's counting the years back in his head, the phone rings, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hel-lo?” He answers, remembering that it is 2am in the middle of the word, dragging it into two syllables to make it seem like he's shocked that someone is calling him.

“What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?” Eddie quips, Steve reflexively rolls his eyes, at both the tone of his voice and the question itself.

“How do you know that you didn’t just interrupt my much needed beauty sleep?” He scoffs, flicking his head like he would if Eddie were sitting right here on the couch with him. Eddie must pick up on it, chuckling over the phone, a similar sound to the one he made when he was sitting on this couch hours ago, suffering with Steve in his apartment.

Now there's something twenty-one year old Steve would be shocked to learn. That him and Eddie became friends, at all.

“I can hear the TV.” Steve hums in response, turns the volume down a notch or two. “But, here’s a courtesy ‘I’m sorry’ for the late night call.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Steve sighs as the slightest breeze rolls through the open window. He's a much better sleeper than twenty-one year old Steve, but due to recent life-changing events and this damn heat-wave, a late-night phone call with Eddie is almost routine at this point

“I miss Evie’s apartment. She had AC.” Eddie says, casually. Steve still doesn't get how he can talk about her so casually. How he can just bring her up like it's nothing. If he even thinks about -

“I still can’t believe you got your heartbroken by a trust fund baby.” He says, cutting off his own thought.

“I’m more heartbroken about that AC unit right now,” still casual, as if he is actually heartbroken about an AC and not a person.

“What’re you watching?” He asks.

“Say Anything.”

“Channel?”

“12.”

The scene where Lloyd is talking to Diane’s father on the prison yard. It makes him think of Eddie on the other line, sitting in his unintentional bachelor pad a few blocks away from his own. The thought must’ve made Eddie’s ears burn.

“That’s not what visitation is actually like, ya know?” His voice is soft.

“Oh yeah?” Steve says, wanting to encourage but not pry.

“Yeah. It’s indoors, at tables, cold and gray. Feels dirty and sterile at the same time.” Eddie says.

“I always thought it happened between a plane of glass, with a telephone on either side of the glass.” Steve offers, giving him an out, a chance to change the subject if he wants to bow out.

“That’s what it’s like in county jail. Prison’s different.” Steve hums again, knows there’s no need to respond with anything else. Steve doesn’t need to ask him how he knows all of this. He knows that Eddie doesn’t expect him to ask. That’s the thing, about old friends, about them, about their whole gang. There are certain things they’ll always know about each other.

His mind drifts to a little Eddie and a younger Wayne, walking into a room just like Eddie had described, going through the motions. It pulls at his chest a little.

“Do you still think they broke up in London?” Steve tests.

“I don’t think they broke up in London?” Eddie says, a tad defensive.

“Yes you do, or you did.” He remembers the conversation, he knows Eddie must remember the conversation.

“When did I say that?”

“In San Diego, we had a whole thing about it, the five of us.” The drunk and loud debate was held stuffed into a diner booth in San Diego. Before you left.

Eddie pauses.

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You sure did.”

“Well, to answer your question, no. I don't think so. I think that they’re two weirdos who were meant for each other.” Eddie says, Steve sinks further into the couch, holds the phone up with his shoulder.

“That's exactly what I said then.”

"Well, I think it now."

"Me too." It comes out softer than he expected. Suddenly thankful that this conversation is happening over the phone, so he can scrunch the feeling away from his face, take a deep breath and shake the feeling that just washed over his body.

“I know a thing or two about weirdos who’re meant for each other.” Eddie says playfully, that tone he uses when he's half-joking, but half-serious. Steve feels something bubble in the very depths of his stomach.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“You and Robin.” Pop. He lets out a deep breath.

“Ha ha.” Steve says, toning up the sarcasm.

“Max and Lucas, Joyce and Jim, the entire gang who’s bonded by the terrors of the 80s and government NDA’s.” Steve’s laugh barks out of him, he can’t hide how surprised he is at these words coming out of Eddie’s mouth.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” He trails off, trying to choose his next words carefully. “Not used to you talking about the past. Hasn’t really been your thing.” His mind drifts momentarily to San Diego again. Watching him hail that cab. Running away.

“There's a lotta things that I used to do, or not do.” There’s a pause. Either of them could say something, there’s something dangling in the air between them, between their two phone lines, filling the space between their two apartments. Just as Steve opens his mouth to say something, cut the tension, snatch the feeling out of the air, Eddie beats him to it.

#whms au #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #sen writes #my fic #did this just light a fire under my ass? YES #there's a lot of missing context from this that will be given in the fic don't worry!#i just love a good telephone scene #especially a telephone scene that's loaded with things unsaid!!!#aiaof

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roaringwish · 1 year

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I was rummaging through my wip folder and found a bunch of unfinished things I wanted to share with you (details under the readmore).

My commission info

❶ I wanted to do a quick ref for the UM gang but ended up not finishing it. I think I chipped my tooth on Misumaru bc I wanted her to be a walking geode (much like Eiki) but I had no idea what to do with the colors. Pun not intended btw. That Takane is my favorite I think.

➋ Concept of Chimata where her design would change based on the sky she's currently under. I decided to add like. cloud themed frills? And the red buttons and stuff that holds her cape together look like a dragon flying through the clouds.

❸ Monstrous Rinnosuke ref. This was based on my theory that he's Hakurei no Kami. He's a half-youkai so I went "oh what if he was a chimera cat but in a half-human-half-cat-way?" so this happened. I needed to model him in Blender to wrap my head around how his face would work. I still failed lol. I think the kami and abstract kami designs of his are a little too ambitious but what am I if not over-the-top.

❹ Another monstrous Orin (the third one despite the fact that I dislike her solely because she gatekept my 1CC for 3 months). This one is my favorite though, I really went off with this design. I wanted to put Okuu behind her, Koishi on top of her head and Satori being done with this shit in Orin's wheelbarrow, but everyone else was noticeably less well-drawn and also the colors didn't fit well, also the image ended up being too busy... yeah this wasn't going to happen in this form so I cut out the only thing I liked about it. This cool as fuck Orin.

❺ This was going to be a single poster with two halves. The concept was to make an opposites illustration with Okina being the savior of monsters and Eiki being the savior of mankind (this is based on their mythological origins). Then I ended up realizing that Eiki has way more colors than Okina and this might not work with only 4 colors. I want to revisit this sometime though, it's a really cool concept imo.

#touhou #2hu #monstrous touhou #rinnosuke morichika #chimata tenkyuu #mike goutokuji #takane yamashiro #sannyo komakusa #misumaru tamatsukuri #rin kaenbyou #eiki shiki #okina matara #ask to tag btw #idk if Orin would be trigggering/horroristic to anyone #conjoined twins are not body horror but her middle eye can??? be???#I'm not sure

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

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Attention writers !!!

(Or anyone who uses google docs lol)

So for a while now I’ve been trying to find a new app to use because I literally have so many wips (around 160 JUST for cillian💀) and it gets overwhelming when I’m trying to look and see what I’m in the mood to write. Google drive helps organize them a little bit, but it’s not really enough imo.

So I came across an app called Obsidian. It’s a little tough to figure out honestly, but once you get the hang of it, it’s super easy. However, my little neurodivergent brain doesn’t like change lmao so I was really hesitant to switch over to that app completely because I like using Google docs for writing (Also Obsidian doesn’t have an underline option??? Lol). BUT I really really liked that you could have folders AND tags. But at the same time, you have to pay to use it across devices so I couldn’t transfer everything on my laptop from docs like I did when I tried using word. And also it did that thing where when you copy and paste from docs into somewhere else, the spacing between paragraphs gets fucked up and as I said before, I have 160+ fics… I’m not fucking going through each one and fixing the spacing😭 So I was about to just accept defeat and keep using docs, but then I literally came up with the best idea in the entire world🤭

TLDR: I don’t like google docs with how many wips I have and I needed an app with better organization than just what google drive offers. I finally found one and figured out a way to have it all organized and easy to find, but still let me write in docs (cause I don’t like change lmao)

Now I’m gonna explain how I use it lol

It has an option for “vaults.” So far I’ve made one for my cillian fics and one for all my c.ai bot stuff. I’m also gonna make one for dc stuff eventually lol but you get the idea

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

In those vaults, you can have folders that the notes go in. Mine are just the characters I write for

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

So what I did was I made the note title whatever the doc was titled, added the tags, and then added the link to the original doc so when I click it, it opens it in the google docs app. (To add the link, open docs and stay on the “home page” don’t go in a specific document. Click the three dots next to the title and then click copy link and that’s it lol)

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Also when you click on “files” above all of the folders, it takes you to this

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Clicking on “tags” shows all of the tags you’ve used and you can click on one to find a fic. So if I’m in the mood to write angst, I’ll click the angst tag and it’ll show me all of my wips that have angst

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You can also change the appearance to light/dark mode (I made it dark so you could see the contrast of the screen shot on this post but I’m just now realizing that ppl probably have tumblr in dark mode lmao. Whatever) and change the accent color to whatever you want.

You can also rearrange the order of the toolbar (above the keyboard). So I put the ones I use the most (tag, undo, redo, etc) in the front so I don’t have to scroll. You should explore the app too because there are a lot of things you can customize.

Anyway that’s pretty much it. I really recommend this method if you’re someone who has a lot of documents. It takes a while putting the existing docs in, but after that you just have to add them as you create new ones which barely takes any time at all

#writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer stuff #writer help #idk how to tag this post lol

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nerevar-quote-and-star · 5 months

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For the story ideas folder "You Drew Stars Around My Scars" have definitely caught my eye!

Also hope you are doing good, Elm!

First of all, Crys, hiiiiiii! I'm doing okay! I hope you're well! ✨ Second, I just want to thank you for asking about "You Drew Stars Around My Scars" and to apologize for the person I'm about to become.

Are you ready for it?

"You Drew Stars Around My Scars" is a The Elder Scrolls V/Baldur's Gate 3 crossover that will likely never see the light of day for several factors, such as the number of WIPs I have, my original novel, school, and, oh, the fact that I've never played BG3 My MacBook Air cannot handle those demands. DESPITE THE EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES!, I just think the game is neat and have been sucked into it in part by Astarion. Mostly Astarion . . . okay, entirely.

Background information: Ever since I started writing Keeping Count, I knew Bishop was lifted from Neverwinter Nights and that it was a D&D-based game. And I guess that's why someone mentioned Astarion as a palette cleanser to me a few months ago, shared universe and all. And my initial perception of the character was so cool that I vaguely entertained an alternative Keeping Count where Astarion shows up, seduces Leara from Bishop, and probably sexy stabs Bishop or something. And then I didn't really think about it again. For months.

Then my brain went back to it and Astarion and BG3 and I cried a bit when I realized that my laptop couldn't play the game. I'm fine. And you know what? @cosmermaid is right: Leara deserves a better companion than freaking Bishop. Also please forgive my minimal BG3/D&D knowledge, 95% of which I've absorbed since like last Monday ish.

SO! "You Drew Stars Around My Scars" features Leara getting picked up by the Mind Flayer ship post-Sovngarde and taken via dimensional travel to Faerûn where, following the crash, she joins the usual party on a quest to get rid of the parasites. This Leara is very specifically taken after the planned Chapter 15 of Keeping Count for Reasons. Can Leara use magic in Faerûn since she's not able to draw it from Aetherius? No idea. Can she Dragon Shout? Also no idea. Transdimensional magic mechanics are weird. Regardless, Leara probably mentions something about being Dragonborn and gets weird and confused looks because her definition of Dragonborn is totally different from that in the Forgotten Realms. Linearly, I have no idea what would happen, but overall, Leara and Astarion both suffer trauma from following people who hurt them and they have complicated relationships with sex. They could have what could be a very cathartic relationship. Or I think so, anyway. Also, I kinda want to know if vampires react differently to the Dragonblood.

Symbolism in the story could heavily involve stars and light. Leara means "Light of the Sea" while Astarion means "Little Star". Leara is dependent on the stars for her magic but she's lost them, while Astarion wants to walk in the light even after the parasite is gone. There's no balance and it has to be found. They're both so cold and have lived in the shadows for a long time. There are dark versions of themselves they don't want to be anymore.

There's the possibility that, given her background in the Blades and Dominion, Leara might see through Astarion's mask in Act I. But she'd end up helping Astarion (and probably not giving on that she's on to him until later) because she's a bleeding heart. Two other very important things about this underwhelming but brain-rotting story: First, Astarion wouldn't ascend. We would need a Leara Disapproves sticker because she would not be for Astarion doing that. The second thing is, well, since motherhood is an extremely important part of Leara's character, I did pick out a name for a possible child. If Leara and Astarion had a daughter, her name would be Ilmarien, derived from Quenya, Ilmarë, meaning “starlight”.

Because after all this time, Tolkien elves still make the most sense to me.

#i am not tagging his character in this because I am too embarrassed #it is taking all my willpower to tell myself that sharing this is okay and that I'm not being too much or annoying #it's okay i felt the same way when I was fixated on legolas and loki as a teen I just figured i'd have outgrown it oh well #oc: leara roseblade #azura's ask box

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procrastinatorproject · 3 months

Text

WIP Folder Game

I wasn't actually tagged, but I saw this on @beautyofsorrow's blog and just... couldn't resist.

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

The problem, of course, is that my "WIP folder" is in fact four different Scrivener projects with a sum total of over 100k unpublished words, so this is gonna be LONG 😅🙈 But in the past, I have found great inspiration in looking through all my wild ideas and wip's that mostly consist of a couple paragraphs or a screenshhot of a discord conversation with friends. So I'm gonna do this anyway :D

WIPs that are only notes or snippets of conversations with friends where I tell them about My Great Fic Idea

Breathe

Field Medicine

5+1 holos

Moriarty

Bashir & Soji

All in a Day's Work

Kidfic

Merged

Sugar Rush

Circuit (Dark Academia)

S1 Agnes POV

CYOA/Scavenger Hunt

The Train Job

Regency AU

Holo-Admonition

He Never Gets Any Nicer (meta)

WIPs that are mostly notes (sometimes very long, elaborate notes) but do have a bit of actual writing attached

Conference Emails

Calluses

A Day at the Faire

Cosmic Detours (one unpublished chapter)

From the Mouths of Babes

Mittens on a String

Squad

Rescuing Dahj

Podcast

WIPs that are a single paragraph (or sentence) or two with not a lot of notes or context

ricepudding

Nostalgia/Nerdiness

The Quiet Spaces in Between (Raffi & Tuvok)

Kestra (Holoween)

All Aboard

Bed Rest (Seven)

Dino Hunt

Ready Room

Cosmic Detours (one unpublished chapter)

Valkriss Tales

Brainwashing

Choose Your Path

AI Malfunction

WIPs that are quite substantial already but still need a lot more work (or for me to sit down and JUST WRITE THE THREE MISSING SENTENCES ALREADY MY GOODNESS!)

Virus

Check-Up

Raffi Whump

Game Night II (Holoween)

Snapshots

Bed Rest (Rios)

Bed Rest (Picard)

Bed Rest (Agnes)

Homecoming

Dynamic Chaos

Meadow (two unpublished chapters)

Baby on Board

Space Shark

CMO's Log (some notes and a couple unpublished chapters)

Favouritism

Four Cakes

Sleep-Deprived

In the Shallows

In the Palm of his Hand (couple unpublished chapters)

Mittens on a String (5 + 1)

Institutional Knowledge

Kestra & Rios

The Cake Is A Lie (Findings and Conclusion)

And finally: WIP's so big they are their own Scrivener Project and will never be finished because they'd be the length of a novel. Or two. (Though I usually only have a few paragraphs/chapters written, the rest is wild ideas and notes)

Star Trek: La Sirena, Episode 2 (and notes for five or six more episodes)

Star Trek: Second Chances

Post-Rusker [semi-disqualified]

Synth Ban Thriller

Star Trek Holo Novel

And I'm not gonna tag as many people as I have WIPs, because that would require me to count them. And even though I rationally know the number of WIPs is morally neutral, I still have deep shame about Not Finishing Things. I'm working hard to dismantle that and have come a long way, but I'm not there yet 😅

(Also, I may not have enough mutuals for the number of WIPs 🙈😅)

So, if you, too, would like to stroll through your WIP folder and have people ask you about some of the stories that live in your head rent free, take this as permission to go for it! 😁🖖

#wips #ask game #lili's writing adventures #star trek picard #star trek la sirena #(most of them are in fact LAS (i.e. either set before and during season 1 or after season 1 but ignoring the later seasons)#but there is a handful of season 2 things in there)

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eastwindmlk · 6 months

Note

Hi! Amnesia for the WIP game? 👀

Excellent choice! This also comes with a little background because technically I've had this laying around for give or take five years. And the plunny keeps hopping by every once in a while. But I'm never quite sure where I want this story to go and now it lives in limbo between my WIP folder and my graveyard.

Set in 7th year. James gets into a quidditch accident and loses part of his memory. Specifically people, only remembering bits and pieces but unable to connect them to the figures he finds at his bedside. Lily teams up with his friends and teammates to try and restore what was lost. But can they? Or is their friend forever changed.

There isn't much written but I wrote the opening paragraphs. So, there you go!

It wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary to find Lily Evans roaming around the hospital wing; she had taken an interest in the art of healing when her father had gotten ill. The matron had gladly taken her in and had the redhead help out. She had seen potential in the girl with her gentle disposition, deft hands and proclivity for potions. She could be a great healer, if she chose to pursue the path once she graduated. Though her visits in the past three days had not been to shadow the nurse and help out with the people that needed no immediate attention. No, she had a purpose this time.

Quidditch was always a tricky time and usually one or two students would end up needing some ointment for bruises or the setting of a bone. It rarely ever ended in blood. Though this game was bad. Lily had been there from the moment James wrapped his lucky scarf around her neck and said something silly to the moment that the teachers helped carry him in, bleeding from a bad blow to the head. The Gryffindor girl had busied herself with fetching towels and shooing away the people that had no use being there. Even if it broke her heart to see the pain in their eyes as they peered across the ward to the closed curtains and the stained uniform that lay discarded on the chair.

It had been three days since they had rushed in here and Lily had been by his side for most of it. The boys and her trading shifts to make sure that someone would be awake when he would finally open his eyes. So, there she sat on the uncomfortable chair that had become her home, flicking through some sappy romance novel Mary had brought her. She was deep into a chapter that was probably not meant for the eyes of a teen when it finally happened. In a whirl the raven haired boy sat up, looking nine shades of green and about to empty his already empty stomach.

The book fell on the ground with a dull thud as she guided him back into the pillows. If he only took a moment to breathe it should be fine. Taking a deep breath herself she found his glasses and put on a smile, despite the fact that her heart was hammering in her chest. “Very funny, Potter.” She replied as he asked who she was, taking the water from his bedside and setting the glass to his lips. “Drink this and slowly sit up. I’ll go get the nurse.” She mused, shaking her head a little as she slid off the bed convinced this was just him taking the opportunity to play a prank, as usual. She never could have guessed that there was nothing funny about what was about to be happening.

#jily #jily fanfiction #my wips #the wip game #omg i got tagged #asked and answered

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faejilly · 9 months

Text

once upon a time I was doing a gift exchange for 7kpp and nothing I wrote work so I did a fanmix and made some TEA instead! (Did you like any of the tea, @awaylaughing? I don't recall) and then today, for no apparent reason, I was looping Hozier and feeling bad about how I keep wanting to write but then don't actually do it... and found a Sheltered Princess/Emmett thing from the POV's of the Chaperones in my WIP folder and finished it! Because Brains! Are Crazy-Cakes! (affectionate) Please Enjoy some observations re: Princess Wilhelmina Temperance of Arland and her Earl.

Emmett had known that he would see her.

Of course The Princess would be here. Even before Katyia herself, this is exactly what Arland Princesses always did. Who they always were.

He'd even known it would be difficult, was aware of his own weaknesses, his own flaws, but he hadn't realized it would hit him so hard, just seeing her walk into the Main Hall, seeing the Skalt Lady approach, watching other people see – her. See her, the way no one else in Arland ever had. The Princess was a wonderful young lady, of course everyone else would eventually see it too. It wasn't as if he didn't want her to succeed, didn't want people to know how amazing she was. He just –

It hurt, a little, to know that he would probably never have his friend by his side again, to know that there had never been a chance that he would, despite how fondly he remembered her, how much he'd looked forward to seeing her again, even if just at formal events at Court.

This was worse than Court.

This was going to be good-bye, and he hadn't even managed to say hello yet.

He was afraid that she'd see his worry and think he wasn't pleased to see her, wasn't always happy at the thought of her.

But then she came toward him, and he was glad enough at the sight of pleased recognition she didn't try to hide that he forgot about the future entirely and smiled at the present instead.

It was quite entertaining to realize that he’d been wrong about the Arland Princess. That didn’t happen to Woodly very often. But here she was, holding her own quite successfully through the formal introductions, alert and observant and with a smile almost as engaging as his own niece’s.

He’d dismissed her entirely at the Welcome Feast, convinced she was an even paler and quieter echo of her sister, the one who’d let herself be sold to Corval despite being smart enough to recognize how pleasant her soon-to-be-husband wasn’t.

To be fair, if Penelope had been of an age with Constance, the King and Queen might very well have tried to do the same with her, and Penelope would undoubtedly have agreed, despite also being smart enough to recognize a man who wouldn’t care a bit for her own preferences in the least. (Sometimes Woodly despaired of his sister’s sense, but that was neither here nor there.) Lisle would have fought it though, so it was well that hadn’t been an option.

But here young Princess Wilhelmina was, exquisitely formal with the one deeply unpirate-like Hisean, then listening to the Skalt Princess to call her Mina without looking the least bit upset by the informality. Penelope adored her, which required a bit of a gentle touch, and yet she was vibrant enough that neither the actual pirates nor the Corvali thought her dull. Even the Jiyel delegates were willing to converse with her, and Duke Lyon didn’t like anyone, and Lady Avalie only liked people she could play with.

She was singularly useless for any of the games Woodly himself liked to play, of course, but she was, nonetheless, a singular and effective delegate for Arland. Much more useful than that Earl, who refused to allow an unkind word about anyone, regardless of how much they might deserve it.

Would wonders never cease. An Arland Princess with a hint of a spine.

This Summit was certainly never boring.

Yvette thought her Princess deserved better. Such a bright young woman ought to be able to reach for more than her status as a gift Arland would bestow upon an ally who was willing to put up with her. (Perhaps they all deserved better than Summit machinations and noble politics, but that was a question for future generations to answer, not a single Duchess in her private thoughts.)

The Princess was quiet and polite, exactly as she had been trained to be. But she caught the eye, shone with her own inner light, a light that was already brighter than it had been at the Welcome Feast, and she’d handled that particular challenge with grace, deprecation, and a surprisingly charismatic and self-aware touch of humor, even when that young Zarad had dragged her into a highly inappropriate dance in front of everyone.

Constance would have been so proud of Mina if she’d seen it. Not that Yvette allowed herself to consider Princess Constance too often; that led to worrying about how she was doing, trapped at Prince Aamir’s side.

Yvette swallowed a sigh, and made sure her hands stayed loose in her lap, no tension visible anywhere in her body, even as she had to fight not to squint against the light of a rising sun. She’d managed to place herself outside the stable before anyone else, but the chaperones and servants and delegates would be here soon for the ride, and she could not let her worry show. Not for Arland or the Summit, past, present or future, not for the Princess as Princess or simply as a young lady in a difficult place.

Most especially not for her poor darling Earl, who she knew was painfully aware that half the Isle could tell that he was hopelessly in love with his Princess, by far the least eligible match for either of them to attempt here at this Summit.

Katyia would probably have insisted they be matched regardless; this time Yvette had to swallow a smile at the thought. Perhaps, somehow, even without Katyia, they’d manage a small bit of happiness, at least for awhile.

Yvette’s smile escaped her control, that thought too sweet to entirely dismiss.

Perhaps she had more hope left in her bones for this Summit than she’d thought.

Falon thought the boat race was the least painful activity of the Summit. It required actual effort and forethought and tactics from the delegates, and did not require he make small-talk about things he couldn’t possibly know anything about, and wouldn’t want to chatter about even if he did.

A Hisean team always won it, of course, but it was interesting to watch what the other delegates decided to do. Did they choose to forego it entirely and network among the spectators? Did they back Hise and their easy victory? Did they put on a show of their own boat, costumes or decorations or fancy tricks to draw the eye? Did they fight for that second place spot, did they try and make Hise work for their victory?

It was fascinating, and a good way to see how all the different delegations were starting to relate to each other, an idea of who could work with who, who might be able to reach a hand across a bargaining table by the end of the Summit and have someone grasp it back.

He had never expected two of the Hise delegates to agree to back an Arlish Captain though. One who had somehow managed to entice his damnable Duke out of the library to participate! And a Wellin Princess. It was the most cosmopolitan ship in the competition.

And then it won.

Hise lost.

Hise lost the boat race to Arland.

Falon didn’t know what to do with that. He couldn’t figure out what it meant, it was too improbable to have even considered it as a possible conclusion. Falon was so disconcerted, he didn’t even manage to catch Lyon before he retreated back inside after the race. Not that it would probably have worked, but Falon didn’t even manage to try.

He did manage to congratulate the rest of the team however, and he didn’t think he sounded nearly as bewildered as he felt.

On the one hand, it was good that there were delegates with the strength of will and character to actually make things happen.

On the other, he had a feeling he was going to spend the next five weeks wishing he’d been assigned as Chaperone for a less interesting Summit.

Jaslen loved the Matchmaker’s breakfast. The only real chance anyone had to see what of the Matchmaker’s opinions she was willing to let be seen in public, and so close to the one banquet at the Summit that still held so tightly to Katyia’s dreams rather than everyone else’s fears; there was always something to learn about how well the behind-the-scenes maneuvering was going.

Plus the delegates were always so delightfully chaotic, the stresses of the Summit and the anticipation of the remaining weeks only getting worse…

When Jaslen had flitted through the dining hall prior to any of the delegates arriving, she’d thought placing the poor Arland Princess in between the Revaire Prince and that idiot Blain was uncharacteristically cruel of the Matchmaker. She had no patience for incompetence, but she didn’t usually twist the knife after (metaphorically) stabbing some delegate who hadn’t impressed her.

But then breakfast actually happened, and Wilhelmina was fine! Calm and polite even while her seatmates bickered and everyone stared at her; she even smiled at that Earl of hers without appearing at all self-conscious when she escaped after Blain’s unsubtle attack.

It was such a nice surprise. Jaslen might have underestimated the Princess, but she wasn’t wrong about the Matchmaker, and that would have been disturbing, after all these years.

Watching Blain fumble his way through the Summit was excruciating enough for one year, she didn’t need to add an absolute failure in her usually impeccable people skills on top of that.

This really was the best morning. She wished she could be a chaperone for every Summit.

Jasper had been quite honored to realize he was assigned to Princess Wilhelmina of Arland herself. The Princesses were always such lovely guests, dutiful but seldom dull, young and hopeful and exactly the sort of people Katyia had most wanted to help.

He met his Princess and she was a joy to serve. Not just for the Summit or his duty or Arland, but for herself, complete and entire. He wished her well, and he saw her rise to every occasion, and for all he knew he could not take the credit, he was so proud.

But it was tinged with fear, not just for the Summit, or the Isle, and definitely not for Arland, but for her and her countryman, her childhood friend, Yvette's young assistant, Earl Emmett of Arland. He was as kind and dutiful as any Arlish Lord could have ever desired, and every time he smiled Jasper could see the Princess light up, and yet.

And yet.

They were both of Arland, and had been excessively well trained. Earl Emmet had traveled enough to be able to bring home a bride from anywhere and be kind to her in a way she'd understand, and the Princess. Well. The Princesses of Arland always left.

Always.

And then the night of the Matchmaker’s banquet he almost missed it, distracted by everything else that had happened (everything that shouldn’t have happened). He barely made himself settle before the Matchmaker stood, but he managed it just in time, standing quiet in his shadows as she began her announcement.

Which included the love match of Princess Wilhelmina of Arland to Earl Emmet of Arland.

There was an instant of total silence in the Hall, regardless of the number of people, regardless of servants and cutlery and food and conversation, regardless of high ceilings and the usual whispers of acoustics designed specifically to pick up everything so it would be almost impossible to overhear any one thing out of all the rest beyond one’s seatmate.

Arland to Arland.

Jasper’s eyes closed, and he didn’t know if it was joy or shock, horror or hope. He opened them to the much more familiar incoherence of a room full of whispering delegations, not a single person without an opinion on that match.

Arland to Arland.

He let himself smile, just a little, and let himself imagine it, a Summit that celebrated a match like that, Arland to Arland, for love and happiness rather than politics and duty.

Mina was sure she was blushing, but she’d noticed the shock after the Matchmaker’s announcement, heard the whispers a moment later, and she couldn’t quite contain it.

She also couldn’t hold in the lift of outright glee at hearing their names announced like that, one after the other. She had no idea how they were going to make this work, but oh, she didn’t regret a moment of choosing her best friend to be her partner, to be her future, no matter what anyone else thought of it. Not even her parents.

And she knew, every time she saw him, every time she thought of him, every time he smiled, or ducked his head, or pushed his sleeves up his arm as if this time they were going to stay, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that Emmett didn’t regret it either.

They only managed one quick moment before they were sent their separate ways, but she could live through a dozen more Summits, and she’d never forget the brilliance of his smile in that moment. Proof, if she’d needed it, that it was worth every effort over the next four weeks to keep him with her, to keep herself with him, to make it out the other side of this Summit

Together.

#jilly writes #7kpp #wilhelmina of arland #earl emmett of arland #sheltered princess #CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO BELOVEDS #the most adorable #and the chaperones #I love them #so many of them are terrible at this chaperone concept #and yet #😅

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