I’m from Arizona, so misspelling “desert” is shameful! 🌵 ☀️ From an early age I was taught a very helpful trick that I use to this day to distinguish between the two:
“You always want seconds of ‘dessert,’ so that’s the one that has a second ‘s.’”
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You have the means to inspire, touch, bring the fear of god and escalate a person's passion.
You have so much power you don't even realize you have at the tips of your fingertips.
general writer taglist: @ren-c-leyn @deviant-writes @author-a-holmes @pubcrawlrevolution @official-weasley @amywrites256
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𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒎𝒆,
𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒆
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒍𝒚
𝒍𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ,𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘
𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏
𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒏
𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒕
𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒔
𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖
𝒊𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔
𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔
𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒕
𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆
𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔
𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍
𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆
𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈
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You are like the sun, my world revolves around you.
Sorry I haven’t posted anything in a while. My house lost internet and it was my birthday a couple days ago, so we’ve been busy. Because it’s my birthday, here’s baby Yoda (or Grogu) with a nice quote.
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- An In The Woods Somewhere drabble
Description: The aftermath of a violent zombie attack leaves Jackie shaken and Mara's there to pick up the pieces.
Warnings: (NOTE: this is a New Adult wip) blood, descriptions of gore and death, hurt/comfort, hints at PTSD
My hand’s in his chest.
Jackie’s ragged breathing mixed with the pounding of her heart in her ears. She became aware of every sensation encompassing her trembling hands. Sharp bone and squirming innards. Blood so old and rancid it left her fist coated in its stomach churning viscosity. The smell of it burned her nose.
My hand’s in his fucking chest.
A voice, barely audible over the panicked thoughts echoing in her skull, called to her. Jackie’s eyes remained transfixed on the collapsed chest beneath her. She crouched over the man who had attacked her - if one could call it a man at all. His yellowed eyes stared at the stars above them, the light far from gone. His neck bent at an unnatural angle and the hunting knife she managed to wrestle off of him was now buried between his ribs. She gripped its leather handle for dear life, lost in the gore of his wound.
“Jackie.” Mara’s voice came to her like a freight train. A touch harsh and loud enough to pull her attention away from one of the cracked bones that dug into the back of her hand. Jackie’s head whipped around, meeting the soft, weary eyes of the woman she saved. “Jackie. Let go of the knife.” Her voice was soft. Softer than she’d ever heard from here in their two long days together. No snarky quips or barking orders. She beckoned to her like a cool oasis in a desert.
Jackie half expected the more experienced woman to be pissed at her for letting the killing get to her. Even after all they’d been through. But this… this was going to stick with her. Even with her own mind screaming at her to let go of the weapon and remove herself from the blood that began to soak into the knees of her jeans, she couldn’t release her grip on the damned thing.
“I… I can’t. Mara, I can’t-” She didn’t recognize her own voice. Shrill and panicked, she barely managed to swallow the sob growing in the back of her throat. “It’s stuck - I’m stuck!”
A quiet hush passed Mara’s lips. Jackie turned her face away so she wouldn’t see the hot tears that defied her and slipped down her cheeks. A warm, lithe body pressed against her back. Arms wrapped around her, grime coated hands taking her wrists. The lean muscle of her arms encased her protectively.
“Then let me do it. C’mon, let me free you.”
Jackie trembled. The sob won. Through blurry tears she watched as Mara’s fingers wrenched her own off the hilt of the blade. The muscle in her wrist ached terribly like the time in college when she gave herself carpal tunnel from writing two essays in a row. Despite the pain, they shook uncontrollably.
The chest against her back rumbled; Mara uttered a low groan as she hoisted Jackie off the dead man’s limp form. They stumbled backwards until they reached the mouth of the cave they had been hiding in for the past few hours to catch their breath.
Another sob wracked her chest, echoing off the jagged stone walls and high ceiling. Somewhere, in the distant woods, a high pitched yowling signalled danger. More of the fuckers lurked somewhere in the darkness. Mara squeezed her against her, mouth brushing against her ear. “Not here.” Her warm breath warned in a whisper. “The falls. Wait until the falls.”
Jackie’s breath fluttered in short bursts. Everything within her wanted to break down crying where they stood. Throw a fit that could shake the heavens and ultimately end the nightmare they were trapped in. But she choked back her whimpers and stumbled when Mara’s body left hers. A hand remained under her elbow, guiding her.
“This way. Carefully.”
Limbs carried her on their own. Her mind was too busy preoccupied with the violent attack playing over and over again like a rancid movie. Except it was her hands. Her feet. Her voice that cried out when she dealt the final blow.
Jackie’s ankle twisted oddly for a second as she lost her balance along the rocky shore of Sky Pond. Mara kept her upright, by some miracle, picking up their pace towards the Timberline Falls straight ahead. The sound of rushing water allowed her to cry again, as long as she kept the sobbing at bay. More tears slipped down her cheeks, cooling her hot flesh and releasing some of the pent up terror still lingering within her.
Timberline Fall’s grew louder the closer they approached it. Both of them surveyed their surroundings, making sure no one - and no thing - was close enough to attack. Jackie pulled her hand from Mara’s, pushing past her to get to a broad, flat boulder beside the body of water. Icy sprinkles fell from overhead, misting her. Relief joined hand in hand with the pain inside of her.
Before she knew it, Jackie’s screams drowned in the roar of Timberline.
It was uncertain how much time passed. The moon still hung high overhead, providing pale light. The falls became a background rumble that Jackie tuned out not long after arriving. The occasional whimper rattled in her throat, but it seemed she had cried every tear she could in the time they remained by the edge of Sky Pond.
At some point, she had been coaxed back to the cave. The dead man was nowhere in sight - something of Mara’s doing. Smears of his blood still painted the stone, but without his rotting corpse, there wasn’t much to see.
Jackie’s face pressed against warm skin. She wheezed, trying to conjure up another sob to finally drain her of energy. But it never came. Mara smelled like the earth. Strong and natural, with a hint of campfire and sweat. Not that she minded. After their two days together, she almost found it more comforting than her mother’s perfume or her past girlfriend’s deodorant. It was all Mara.
It took a small deal of effort to peel her tacky, tear-streaked cheek off of the bare shoulder she rested against. There, lounging by their backpacks, Mara held her and worked tirelessly to get the last of the rotten blood out from the creases of Jackie’s knuckles. Very few words were shared between them since her breakdown at the falls, but when she laid her head against her chest she let the sound of her steady heartbeat ground her.
“I’m sorry.” Though Jackie didn’t exactly know what she was apologizing for. Those dark eyes fluttered, a brow raising as they looked down at her.
“What have I told you about apologizing too much, Jackie?” The tease was light. Mara’s voice frayed, somehow mustering a small smile. “I’m just cleaning you up. I know what the scent of death can do to a person. You’ve dealt with enough. Just let me do this for you.”
Jackie went quiet, watching as Mara’s hands turned hers over so her palms faced up. The handkerchief she used was tossed aside. With both of their hands clean, she interlaced their fingers. The memory of the dead man’s face tried to surface, but the forehead that nestled against hers flung it back into the void.
“What are you thinking about?” Mara’s inquiry lingered unanswered for a moment. What was she thinking about? Images of the violence from the past days flickered but never formed completely at the front of her mind. Her brain buzzed with the touch. The gentleness in the warrior’s actions.
“Him. Or at least, I was.” Jackie’s breathing went shallow again. They were so close right then. She could feel her warm breath against her face. “I was thinking about the noise he made… but you’re kind of making it hard to do that right now.”
“Am I?” Mara snorted, pulling her head back from hers for a moment. Humor lingered on her exhausted gaze. “Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings for some crazy bitch you met during a zombie apocalypse.”
Well that ruined the moment. Embarrassed, Jackie turned her face away and cast her gaze to the streaks of moonlight that lit up the front of the cave. A hand left one of hers. Warm fingers caressed the side of her jaw, pulling her gaze back to Mara. She looked serious then. Her brows lowered in concentration. They locked eyes for what seemed like hours.
Mara leaned in. Her lips were so close to hers. So fucking close. What a perfect distraction they were, even as they hovered ever so slightly next to hers. Jackie’s breath hitched in her throat and she watched her through her lashes. She gave a small nod, letting her know this was a welcomed advance.
She tasted of salt and sweet tobacco. Far better than the scent of blood or death. Jackie hummed against her lips, her hands trembling against. Only this time it was from the rush of electricity that coursed through her veins at the tender affection. Mara deepened the kiss, her hand still firmly against her jaw. A thumb swiped along her cheek bone, tickling her like a butterfly’s wings.
They only broke so she could catch her breath. After all her crying, Jackie still wasn’t sure how to breathe properly. The humor returned to Mara’s face and she murmured against her lips.
“Hope you like crazy, princess. You’re going to be stuck with me for a while”
ITWS Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @lordkingsmith @celestialbunnistories @aeslin-writes @writinginslowmotion @chayscribbles @theramwrites @tiredlittleoldme @sapphcon-ic @hazard-writes @lookingmuchimproved @themidnxghtwriter @draculinawrites @aetherwrites @svpphicwrites @maxgraybooks @writeherewaiting @sjjsalamanders @thelittlestspider @ashen-crest @writtendevastation @ravesthewriter @adie-dee @christine-thinks @cream-and-tea @reeseweston @languageisbae @mellowkittenwrites @yejidoesthings
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Writers have a responsibility to themselves and themselves alone.
Yes, it's nice when your audience loves and relates to your writing too, but if you don't love it yourself, then all of that work doesn't matter.
General writing positivity taglist: @ren-c-leyn @deviant-writes @author-a-holmes @amywrites256 @pubcrawlrevolution @official-weasley
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I don’t suffer from madness
Or a life spent alone
I’ve befriended all that could bind me
I suffer from lies
And speeches well meant
From men that have tried hard to love me
When the darkness comes searching
And all truths are laid bare
They’ve seen all the gore and the guts
What use is ‘pretty’ when you know all you know?
And the light has revealed open cuts
It’s hard to hold me and not cover your eyes
Trying to find what was there
It’s hard to kiss what you know all too well
When I’ve spilled everything I can share
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As do I
In a dream I said I love you
You responded as do I
In your eyes there was a face
But I saw it wasn’t mine
In some time ever after
By the lake, drinking wine
I’ll say that I love her
And her heart will align
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WELCOME TO MY WRITEBLR!
My name is Willow (pen name!), I’m 26, she/her, and I write queer NA fantasy almost exclusively. Originally, I had my main WIP pinned, but I love all my children equally now, so I want to share them all with you below. If you’re also a writeblr who is over 18 and writes queer NA or YA fantasy, please feel free to reblog this intro and tell me about your WIPs! (:
◈ LIGHT & DEATH (book 1 of a planned trilogy)
↠ genre: high fantasy, new adult
↠ pov: third, past tense, occasionally multiple povs
↠ summary: a sun elf girl with recurring nightmares witnesses a murder in her home that sends her on a journey across the desert to see her father. little does she know, her nightmares and that murder were connected to an ancient war that has been raging for centuries.
↠ pinterest -- spotify playlist -- tag: #lnd
◈ QUEEN OF DEATH
↠ genre: high-ish fantasy, YA/NA
↠ pov: first, past tense
↠ summary: in a world where certain bloodlines carry magic and world wars are waged to take control of them, raven is the firstborn daughter of lucia, the queen of death. when a small outlying island displays enough power to attempt to kidnap all eight known magic users at once, raven is forced to come to terms with her traumatic childhood while meeting with the person behind the crime.
↠ pinterest -- spotify playlist -- tag: #qod
◈ NOTHING BUT THIEVES
↠ genre: urban fantasy, new adult
↠ pov: third, past tense, maybe multiple povs
↠ summary: Four young vampires struggle in the back alleys of Las Vegas, until Roman, a vampire well-known throughout the city, offers them a deal: pull off one heist, and he can offer them fame, fortune, and comfort for the rest of their infinite lives. The catch? Every group he’s sent in before them has been killed, and they’re his last hope.
↠ pinterest -- spotify playlist (coming soon!) -- tag: #nbt
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There is nothing like a touching story to remind you that your heart still works.
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Looking for new writers to follow again - I learned my lesson from the last post, so I’m being very specific this time :)
Feel free to ~reblog~ & tell me about your writing (or yourself!) in the tags & I’ll check out your blog! Interested in following writers who:
Write adult (or NA) original fiction - sci fi, fantasy, magical realism, horror, weird/experimental shit - or poetry!!
Share/reblog writing advice & resources
Not strictly necessary, but bonus points if you’re not cis, het, or white !! Also if you self-publish and post about it!
Reblogs help, thanks!
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I feel like a lot of writing advice is really just tropes and genres the poster doesn’t like.
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Chat writers are really quite fascinating. To think that you can turn a complex story into something simple like a text conversation is not only interesting but very talented indeed.
Text story positivity taglist: @hellishhin
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Trying to figure out why I'm upset by writing about it feels like pulling blackberry vines from a rose bush wearing only shorts, sandals, and a tank top.
Underwing Challenge Day 8
8. Simple one for today: Just post a message with your username, links to the past seven days’ responses, and a message to the effect that you’re open for adoption. This is the rebloggable adoption post mentioned above.
Hello! It’s finally adoption day! Your local neighborhood stray who’ll demand treats at increasingly odd hours in the night here. Despite the size and shape of my teeth, I don’t bite! I do gnaw, though.
Feel free to step in and chat and ask about anything you’d like. I love sharing and will appreciate anyone indulging my rambling about my current WIP, worldbuilding, or pretty much anything.
Challenge Link: More info on the event if ya need it.
Day 1: Introduction post.
Day 2: Introduction post to my current main WIP, Making a Killing.
Day 3: Character intro post with bonus picrew.
Day 4: Introduction to the world my WIPs are set in, Telvan. (now with a map!)
Day 5: My favorite excerpt of MaK.
Day 6: Bit more on my portfolio and other WIPs.
Day 7: Small post just talking about the type of interaction I’d like. Which is to say anything past a hello.
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Everything you say to me takes me one step closer to the edge, and I'm about to... break as I write every single word you've said to me in my WIP. I'm crying as I do this.
(before anyone asks, yes, I'm a Linkin Park fan)
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How to Kill a God : a wip introduction
Mythopoeia | Upper Young Adult/New Adult | Literary Fiction
Writing first draft
Point of View:
First person, present tense
Moving forward from the past, being lost in life, unconditional love being tested, embracing your own power, following your dreams, taking chances, and appreciating the beauty of nature.
A childhood friends to lovers slow burn romance, a bit of found family, a heist or two, brotherly love, wrestling with religious beliefs, betrayals, one familial war, secrets and lies, and much more!
Death, smoking, strong langauge, notes of classicism, and grief.
The goddess Fate has a plan for us all. She is one of Universe’s daughters; her will is absolute. No single man is able to defy her. No matter what hell or high water she decides to force you through, the only thing you can do is sit back and let her have her way with you. Even if it’s in her divine, absolute will to make your life a living hell.
Hence is the case with Allister Haze. At what point through a series of heartaches will he discover within himself, the ability to defy her? To take his life into his own hands, and seek to build back up the foundations that she has destroyed... Surely it will be before it’s too late. Surely it will be before she strips young Allister away not only from his friends, but of the only family he has left, his very own twin brother. Surely... Won’t it?
How to Kill a God is a character driven novel in progress, estimated to be around 100k+ words when I’m finished writing it. Sooo if this sort of thing interests you, stick around for updates!
I don’t want to give away too much info about this babe because I’m aiming for it to be published one day. Plus I want a lot of the story events to be a surprise. Buuut I suppose I’m allowed to do a quick little character introduction as well. That’s below the cut if you’re interested!
Meet the Cast!
Allister Haze: the explorer
The story’s protagonist. At the ripe young age of 18, Allister is the very definition of a dreamer. He strives to achieve his dreams of becoming an explorer, but lacks a plan on how to get there. This doesn’t stop him from dreaming and encouraging others to do the same.
Allister is the adventurous type. He loves to try new things, go to new places, and wants to travel the world one day. He is also deathly curious. So much so that it can get him in trouble sometimes.
Preston Haze: the intellect
Allister’s twin brother, the more introverted one. He doesn’t have as many friends, let alone friends his own age. He’s very intelligent, but has a bad tendency to hide his feelings from everyone - including himself - until they explode. This means a lot of little white lies and secrets pile up over time.
Similarly, he can be pretty sarcastic. There’s nothing he loves more than teasing Allister. At the end of the day, however, Preston still cares a lot for those close to him.
William and Godfrey: the butlers
William and Godfrey are the two head butlers that work in the Haze estate. They’ve had their jobs for the twins’ entire lives. They’re the ones who helped raise the boys from birth. As such, they’re all very close. Their relationship resembles that of a close family member’s, as opposed to the typical master and servant. Raising a couple of rich twin boys isn’t easy, but William and Godfrey try their hardest!
Madison ‘Maddie’ Schyler: the fashion designer
Maddie and Mak are childhood friends of Allister and Preston. Just like them, Maddie is also aged 18. She is a very caring soul, and also hard working. She’s very dedicated both to the people on her life, and to her workplace. Maddie a woman of the fashion world, you see. She’s a designer and has her own online boutique. She is in love with Allister and tries hard to make him notice her in that light, but his obliviousness always wins instead.
Makenzie ‘Mak’ Schyler: the artist
Maddie’s little sister. She’s 16, so she still in high school. Mak is a fun-loving free-spirit, opting to let next to nothing get her down. She is Preston’s closest friend outside of his immediate family, and also his love interest.
Mikko and Fingal Moroni: the scalawags
Mikko and Fingal are a pair of brothers that Allister is friends with. Mikko is the younger one, 18. Fingal is a bit older, at age 20.
These two aren’t rich by any means. No, they’re a part of the common people, the ones who need to work a job in order to earn a living. Fingal does just this, and tries to get Mikko to get one also. Heaven knows they need the extra income. But nope! Mikko refuses to get a job, opting instead to gain money by... other means.
The Moroni brothers are the very definition of trouble in the minds of the common city folk. Mikko is a drunkard who loves to flirt, tease, bet, gamble, and enjoy the occasional cigarette. Fingal is his stoic yet responsible older brother who is dead inside and constantly smoking.
Percival ‘Perci’ James: the photographer
Allister’s other friend. Percival James is, by all means, a little ball of anxiety. He cannot handle stress at all, which doesn’t bode well considering how easily he gets worried about literally anything. He’s just 17, so he’s still in high school. It’s his last year though, so he’s almost out. As such, he needs to start thinking about his future.
His passion lies with photography, yet he feels like he can’t make a career out of it. Perci feels like he should go to college for a career that guarantees success, like that of a doctor. The main issue with that, however, is how college isn’t free and Perci’s family isn’t part of the rich elite like Maddie, Mak, and the Haze twins. Perci is a very bright young lad though, so no matter what he chooses to do, his mind and strong spirit will carry him through.
If you want to be notified about any future updates regarding this wip, let me know somehow and I can add you to the taglist below :)
@kazenokaori @vampire-with-a-pen @dahladahlabills
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Underwing Challenge Day 8
Simple one for today: Just post a message with your username, links to the past seven days’ responses, and a message to the effect that you’re open for adoption. This is the rebloggable adoption post mentioned above.
Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four | Day Five | Day Six | Day Seven
Hi everyone! I am here and ready to be adopted!
I am excited about it but may be shy and try to hide under your couch. Be gentle and lure me with treats and I will come out, provided there is a blanket for me to snuggle on. When cozy, I may be prone to excessive rambling about my characters or WIPs. I'm eager to make new writer friends and "go home" with somebody! Please know that by adopting me, you are also adopting my wealth of WIPs and my puppy (whose picture can be found in day one's link). You have been warned. Please have a cozy spot in your "house" available at all times, I am shy and require some time every day to snuggle with my pup and/or be alone. I am friendly, though! Will not bite. Looking forward to the rest of the month with whoever takes me under their wing (omg that's why its the underwing challenge)!
If you agree to adopt me, reblog this post.
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And yet, even with everything going on, there was hope in their eyes. Their silvery-gray eyes, that were the same but also not. Valena's eyes were the color of the blade she carried with her, and as sharp as it too. Her eyes were the gray of the cold mountains of Azyria, the color of storm clouds, and raging seas. Estelle's eyes were the color of the moon, of the soft fabric of priestess' robes, of the sky just before dawn.
- excerpt from a scene I wrote