#tlf writing

[thelavenderelf]

WIP Whenever ✨

I present to you a small little snippet of the beginning of Unstable Chapter 6!!! It was hard choosing what I wanted to show so as to not spoil certain things >:D

A cold wet slush plops onto Vilkas's face, shocking him awake. He quickly swipes it off before squinting his eyes at the morning sun shining through snow-heavy branches. Another blob falls, this time landing on his bare stomach. He flinches and groans as he sits his aching body up.

The winter winds howl like wolves as he looks out upon the valley of Whiterun. He pinches the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. He doesn't remember how he got here. He never does.

He braces the tree as he struggles to stand, trying to ignore his pounding head and what feels like knives digging into his skull. It feels like a nasty hangover, but the past few weeks have been nothing but a mushy blur. Yet he feels good, alive, awake. His mind is clearer than it has been in days and he thanks the gods for it. 

If only he could say this wasn't a common occurrence but lately the call of the blood has become too loud to ignore. Perhaps he’s finally lost it and this is just the beginning of his slow descent into finally losing himself to Hircine. He swears he can hear the Daedric prince calling to him every night, beckoning him to give into his instincts and hunt. 

At least, he thinks it’s Hircine. There is no other plausible explanation for the yellow-eyed thing that follows him at night, taunting and torturing him to give in. It crawls under his skin and it burns and burns until he's writhing to not claw his own flesh off for some sliver of relief.  

But this is the last time he’ll give in. He can’t let Hircine win and he can’t disappoint Kodlak anymore than he already has. 

I promise.

[inquisimer]

pspspsps

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Thursday

(Per the poll) Eldritch Dad versus Jak versus Cultists

(Featuring characters from The Disowned Game 😅)

For context: the antagonists are trying to unlock an ancient seal to conjure the patron of dark eco, to basically turn the whole population into dark eco warlocks.

Their sage insists that they must spill the blood of a prism channeler to "appease the gods."

"You don't know what you're doing!" Phoenix shouted, straining against Skyheed's soldiers. He managed to get a good kick in, but there were too many to take in one fight. "Skyheed, stop!"

Keira lunged for the ceremonial dagger, a snarl on her lips.

"You so much as scratch him, and the gods will be the least of your worries!"

The blade slammed into the altar as Keira cracked the priest's arm against the stones. He cried out in pain, releasing the knife.

"The madness of the Light will not save the hero!" he gasped, struggling in vain against an enraged sage-in-training.

Jak strained his fingers towards the knife, just out of reach of the triple shackles. So close. He was so close! But he was going to need help.

"Keira! You have to cut me!"

"Are you nuts?!"

"No no, I recognize that glyph! It's gonna be fine!"

The glyph was familiar. Studying with Sister Merci at the temple, Keira had come across many pictograms older than the writing she and Jak and Daxter had employed as children. She could read one or two, but most still mystified her. This one's meaning escaped her memory, but she was certain she had seen it before. Which meant that unfortunately, Jak probably knew what he was talking about.

Reluctantly, Keira pressed the tip of the blade to Jak’s finger. Two small drops of blood slid down into the channels carved into the stone as Phoenix cried out in horror.

"Keira, no! What have you done?!"

Darkness took them.

Out of the blackness, the sounds of scuttling filled the room. Hundreds, thousands of tiny legs across metal and stone. Spiders began to creep down the walls, congregating on the twelve iron cuffs. Thousands of tiny, hairy, bodies pushed between metal and flesh, heedless of the crush until Jak could slide his wrists and one of his ankles out.

"Phoenix! Get everybody out!" he warned, "We don't have a lot of time before-"

"Who is misusing my gift?"

a voice like dry leaves, like the creak of timbers, like bells, filled the chamber.

The darkness drew close, twisting and writhing around itself to form the shape of a woman so tall her masses of curls brushed the ceiling. She took in the prostrated forms of the cultists below her with glowing eyes and curled her lip.

"And what, pray tell, is this?"

The question seemed to shock the onlookers out of their stupor.

"Oh great lady of darkness!" Skyheed bowed from the waist. "We, your humble devotees, come before you to ask your blessing on-"

The woman turned her head to see Jak still struggling to free himself. He'd taken hold of the obsidian dagger to pry off the ankle bands.

"Agh-! Mi'jo, no!"

the goddess snatched the blade from his hands in an instant.

"That's a knife!"

It was as if she hadn't even seen the cultists. Micteca held the hilt between thumb and forefinger, scowling.

"Foul thing. Ugh! How did you even- Nevermind. I'm calling your father."

Jak cringed. "No-! It's not even that bad!"

He and Keira broke the last shackle together as he continued to babble protests.

"He-! He's busy! You don't need to tell him, i can handle this-"

"DAMAS! LOOK WHAT YOUR SON GOT INTO!"

the shout shook the room, sending curtains of dust raining down on them.

"Dude, your mom's a snitch," Daxter snickered.

There was a clap of thunder, and the chamber filled with a blinding light. A biting chill curled around them, contrasting sharply with the warm voice emanating from the center of the light.

"Why is it always "my son" when he's gotten into something he shouldn't?"

Jak groaned. "Guys, I'm right here."

That wouldn't help him and he knew it. But he had to save a little face in front of Daxter and Keira.

Incrementally, a face appeared in the light, then a muscular body, held aloft between wings more like an anemone's tentacles, formed of living sand. Stars wheeled across dark skin like a piece of the sky had come to personally judge them all. The giant gazed down at Jak and narrowed his eyes.

"Hello, son."

He sounded amused.

Ignoring the choked off curses and whispered questions around him, Jak dropped his face into his palm.

"Hello, Father."

"Got yourself into a Situation again, haven't you?"

"It wasn't my fault this time!" Jak protested. He pointed at Skyheed, and decided that whatever followed was on the duke's own head. "That guy made Dark Warriors out of his whole city! He was going to sacrifice me so he could control them all!"

"Ohhhh crap." Keira cringed.

Micteca's eyes flashed. In a much too calm voice she said,

"Kids, would you step outside for a second?"

"Yep! No problem!" Daxter said hastily, leaping off the altar, "No problem at all!"

Keira ducked the priest and Skyheed to grab Phoenix by the sleeve. "Let’s go, let's go! Trust me, you don't want to be anywhere near this room."

"Uh....maybe...don't kill all of them?" Jak offered, pausing at the door.

"The pale ones didn't choose this."

"Jakkkk-"

Micteca frowned.

Jak glanced at the bewildered soldiers, all completely disoriented by the mass influx of dark eco.

"Mamá, please?"

"...you're as bad as your father."

Burning eyes narrowed down at Jak, and long black talons drummed impatiently on the goddess's folded arms.

Damas left off prodding at a smaller Dark Warrior to smirk.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've said about me all year!"

"Oh don't you start-! Alright! We'll see."

Micteca glared at both Jak and Damas.

"The things I do for you two troublemakers..."

"Appreciated, my love."

Damas -- or Deimos or Xenodamas, the monks could never agree on whether his name ought to be more "formal" now -- tucked a lock of hair behind Micteca's ear and began idly braiding it.

"There. That ought to keep the blood out of it."

Jak met Klout's flummoxed and slightly horrified gaze. He, unfortunately, could relate.

"Ugh. There's a time and a place, Father," he muttered under his breath.

A nearly prehensile wing tip snaked out to cuff Jak across the back of the head.

"Be glad your mother has more restraint than I usually do. Relocate, offspring."

Jak shoved the wing away and grinned. "Yeah yeah. Thanks, Ma! Okay, eviscerate away!"

"OUT."

The great stone doors slammed into place behind Jak, and he rolled his eyes at his honorary siblings' unimpressed expressions.

"Well did you want to wade through pureed soldier bits?" he asked indignantly.

Phoenix stared straight ahead, wide eyes focused on nothing.

"What," he finally choked, "just happened?"

[dorkacademia]

the tumblr girlies should stop sleeping on donna tartt's the little friend. it has something for everyone. the waifish coquette dollettecore lana del rey aesthetic preachers. the weirdgirls™. the ones with religious trauma. the southern gothic enjoyers. the has-been formerly rich + stately family enthusiasts. unconventional family lovers. americana advocates. childhood adventures tainted by a dark presence appreciators.

murder past, death everlooming, danger sought, hazy summers and fabricated memories. it feels like a soporiferous, hazy, hot summer afternoon daydreaming about your town's mysteries and making up unseemly explanations for them or reading your favorite childhood adventure book while knowing how it would realistically end.

tw for repeated use of the n word tho

[piss3dm3nk3n]

I can name at least 2 characters for each book Donna Tartt has written where they have issues with their fathers 

[armandjolras]

white ladies from the American South who were raised by Black maids should be required to take a sensitivity training before they’re allowed to write a novel about it. (Stephen King doesn't fit this category but should also be required to take this training)

[y2kbugs]

Why Rincewind deserves your love

Tumblr loves characters like Rincewind right now. The sad, weary one who really doesn't want to be here but does it anyway cause no one else bothered, and is often vulnerable, cowardly, and a weakling compared to everyone else. In other words, the pathetic wet cat, the poor little meow meow.

Vimes is also a perfect example of this archetype, he's there and he's great, but Rincewind to me is a sort of hidden gem bogged down by the author's early writing and the struggle to live up to those later, more deep characters. It doesn't really help that Pratchett also got bored of writing him, and only felt obligated because he had fans (which in a way sounds like Rincewind himself), but...

The first two books aren't even bad. The only thing I'd say is that TCOM has some confusing writing going on and feels more like a collection of stories but it's good and could be better if rewritten. Rincewind is a wonderful character and Twoflower is a delight. TLF is a definite improvement writing and character wise and gives development to Rincewind.

He's not "a weak character who doesn't do anything but run". He is not badly written. He is a character who does not want to be the hero but does it anyway. He has deep empathy and believes that throwing your life away for a good cause is inherently selfish rather than selfless (and! he does this himself, kind of. He does make a sacrifice to help somebody, but he lives).

He isn't stupid. He might be the smartest character in his books, but that's more because the other characters are relatively kind of dumb. The only thing he's really bad at is being a wizard, that's it. He's not a good wizard, but he's a great strategist, he knows a lot about magic, knows almost every language on Discworld and this was how he got to know Twoflower in the first place. I would call him an average intelligence and very high wisdom character in DnD. He's intensely rational and will point out gaps in reasoning and logic. He might be a pessimist, but he has experience and he's going to use that.

That's not to say he doesn't make mistakes. He absolutely does, but making dumb mistakes is much different from willful and sheer ignorance which he does not display.

His hat says "Wizzard" because it's supposed to be a pun on "he can't spell", and it's highly unlikely that he actually misspelled it not knowing the actual spelling considering he reads a lot.

He is very, very defensive and adamant about his identity as a wizard. It's pretty much everything to him and he has a crisis whenever other characters mock and have general distrust of wizards.

He's done the following:

Beat the shit out of an eldritch horror until it ran away from him (TLF),

forced an extremely powerful spell out of his head with sheer will (TLF),

Defeated the most powerful deceased wizard possessing a magical staff with only a brick in a sock, and took both himself and the wizard's son into the Dungeon Dimensions, where he fought back creatures to allow the boy to escape. (Sourcery)

Gave the boy a speech about how it's important to not let anyone define who you are as a person and no one should have to tell you what to do (Sourcery)

Used a whole terracotta army to beat an entire army, and succesffully intimidated them via psychological tricks. (Interesting Times)

Brought rain back to Fantasy Australia and talked back against Death who convinced him to give up. (TLC)

Maybe he's not the most sympathetic character, because he's not chivalrous or manly. He has no bravery and freely admits to being a coward, he's kind of a jerk who cools down as time goes on, and he's selfish enough that he thinks being selfless is a total waste of time and is selfish in itself. He's a cynic and a pessimist with a worldview shaped by his terrible experiences on Discworld, but he's very well-traveled even against his own will, and from this experience he knows precisely how to get out of danger, how to outsmart an individual (or a whole army) and more.

He's shown empathy. Being tired at the world at large and not liking the other wizards very much but going out of his way to save the world from a wizard gone rogue anyway because nobody else bothered to and he's angry, saving a boy from his abusive father's power and diving headfirst into the Dungeon Dimensions, trying to convince an "army" of mostly children why trying to fight against a legitimate army of warriors is a horrible idea and will only get them killed, Helping some thirsty sheep out to get access to water despite not needing to, bringing rain back to Fantasy Australia even though he could have given up and gone home at any moment, being made a "test subject" for the wizard's project in creating Roundworld/Earth, learning aabout the life on there over millions of years and talking about how hard it is for life to grow on there in its earliest millions of years, teaching Roundworld inhabitats the importance of art and creativity not only to outsmart the elves but because he wanted to (while the other wizards considered him stupid for this idea).

And he doesn't want to be a hero, he has no obligation to and is perfectly happy just being alone in the library and reading old books. He wants a life of peace and quiet and nothing life-threatening, but unfortunately he's pushed into these situations. Often though instead of simply resigning himself and giving up altogether, he sucks it up and goes and does it anyway with the expectation that he can go home in the end. That, and by now he's already expected this is his role: to fix shit and go home, even though he'd love to have someone else do his job.

It rubs me the wrong way to see people call him one-dimensional or just "the guy that is scared and runs away"...That to me is like simply calling Vimes "the depressed cop who drinks a lot" or Granny Weatherwax "the old witch who kicks ass". Of course the character will seem one dimensional if you describe them that way. Vimes is better written overall and gets better development for sure, which is also what his character is built for, as well as a more serious story that doesn't lend itself as well to basically slapstick. Rincewind isn't built for overcoming his fears, but rather his selfish attitude and to finally find peace with himself, and he works as a comedic character while also balancing out the fact he can be anything other than a clown or coward.

He gets what he always wanted in the end too. Pratchett might not have wanted to write him anymore, but instead of simply putting him on a bus, he gave Rincewind a position at Unseen University, only dampened by the fact the other wizards clearly don't respect him, therefore he can't really be a professor as a job, but he doesn't mind. In fact, he loves that. He gets free food, a quiet place to stay, and has zero obligations. He's happy, and the last thing we know of him is that he's studying the effects of plants on the nervous system (Raising Steam), and he's very important in the Science Of Discworld series, initially being a test subject and later being the "to go" for information about Roundworld/Earth, even getting to keep the globe in his room.

[md-confessions]

Fic Idea: (might actually write it !!!) Uzi is trying to take her robo-estrogen shot but this time she's really scared of doing it, this is post cabin fever so Uzi can now feel pain, she's scared of how much the needle is gonna hurt, so N walks in on Uzi sitting on the toilet holding an estrogen shot. N being the good friend/boyfriend (dunno what to make their relationship be exactly, dunno whether I make them already a thing or just friends or have it up for interpretation) decides to try to help Uzi out.

- TLF

⠀

[i-wear-sunglasses-inside]

So I’m reading “Yellowface” by RF Kuang. I’m like 80% of the way through and one thing I’ve noticed that June keeps saying is that she “put [her] blood and sweat into The Last Front”. The full phrase is usually that you put your blood, sweat, *and tears* into something.

But the thing is, June makes a point to tell the narrator that the only real lie she tells us about the authorship of The Last Front, and she doesn’t put her tears into that book, so of course she wouldn’t say she did. And I think that’s a really genius move on Kuang’s part to make that distinction, because tears imply a certain amount of vulnerability, but part of the harm that June does in the first half of the story is directly tied into the fact that, because she didn’t write the original draft and because she has no personal stake in Chinese history, the contents of The Last Front are not a vulnerable or sensitive point for her. She allows historical events and cultural context to be cut and softened for western readers and allows whiteness to be centered in many of the scenes as well as in the meeting with the production company, and these are all issues that never would have surfaced if TLF was genuinely June’s, which I just think is really interesting

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Theresa Longo Fans@BarkJack_

Prince Harry is actively enjoying time in the USA despite reports he’s ‘homesick’. An exclusive source says H&M are fuming after their correspondence was not responded to promptly ahead of Trooping of the Colour!

...

They made some attempt to call text email or write and were ignored.

----------

The above posts suggest to me that the attempt to get attention via jam and dog biscuits was a rash response to 'being ignored'. Nachos took the photos in daylight but posted just before midnight, if my assessment of time is correct. If she went to all the attempt to make jam and dog biscuits to actually market a brand, then there would have been a similar approach to the strawberry jam 'launch'. If she simply sent the products to a friend, and is serious about launching the brand, she would have asked him to not post as the timing and the poor presentation might hurt the brand. This was an amateur and rash attempt to get attention. Her subsequent denial is pure gaslighting.

TLF isn’t a trustworthy site. None of the blind gossip accounts, websites, channels are.

[pestomoment]

i think im due for an intro post 🤎

✰ welcome!! i'm pesto/tomato/tomatopesto (depending on the platform) and i'm an 18 year old artist from the US ☕️ current interests are as follows ⎯ team fortress 2, tarttverse (tsh, tlf, tgf), doctor who, dragons (wof, primarily), and birds. i love my ocs* very much and may occasionally post them as well. don't ask me about them, i'm insane (joke)

✰ i'm a massive multishipper!!! gentle surgery and papenwinter are my favs but i love many, many ships. that being said, proshippers are NOT welcome here.

✰ more stuff about me 🕊️ i love found family dynamics and whatever the hell spy has going on. i like to write, but rarely post any of it. summer thunderstorms are one of my favorite things ever, and my favorite season is fall.

✰ you're bound to see me adding medic's doves to doodles. i do love them. thank you for reading, enjoy your stay :)

*my two main ocs/sonas, ford valero and pesto. (also known as pestocat because i think it's silly) you're bound to see them show up at some point or another.

[artfight 2024] joint writing blog; istillhearyou-stranger

[thelavenderelf]

WIP Whenever ✨

I know this is a few days late, but I've been tagged by @friend-of-giants and @miraakulous-cloud-district to share some WIPs! I normally don't like sharing snippets of my writing while I still work on it, but I'm in a "don't let your perfectionism get in the way and just share the thing" mood. So here is a raw, unedited snippet of the beginning of Unstable Chapter 3!

I tag anyone who reads this 😘

Images of marble hallways lit by a cold moon haunt Sylvana's mind. The hall stretches on forever, yet its walls webbed with golden filigree constrict her lungs. She needs to run. Needs to escape. But like the columns lining the walls, her legs are stiff and she falls. A sharp blade drips crimson onto ancient stone floors, making a pool that reflects a cruel, smiling maw lunging for her throat. 

She jerks awake and hits her forehead on the edge of a table. A string of curses leaves her as she falls back down. Sweat drips between her back and the shoddy bench she lays upon. She rubs her head, trying to soothe the annoying throbbing pain that won't go away. 

Another nightmare? Really? This better not become a habit but so far it's two for two. What makes it worse is that it played out like the one she had earlier. It must be the stress mixed with the aftereffects of whatever was in that poison. It still hasn’t worn off despite it being hours since she was stuck. 

Clumsy fingers reach for her unfinished bottle of mead but find a metal chain instead. She pulls it and the strange amulet from earlier dangles above her face. She studies it, taking a closer look now that she has the time. The amethyst embedded into serpentine ebony gleams in the firelight. She swears the amulet is an exact copy of Savos Aren's, a perfect match. Even the slight hum of magic triggers the sting of bittersweet familiarity.

Savos Aren was a man of many secrets yet forthcoming whenever she needed him. He always wore his amulet. At one point she inquired about it, mesmerized by its elegant design but he brushed her off. It was unusual for him to dodge a question like that but at the time it didn’t seem important so she let it go. Now she’ll have to feel guilty while going through his things to find answers.

Perhaps the amulets are family heirlooms and she stumbled across one that was lost. Or maybe it's a coincidence and whoever made the pendants just really like this particular design. She could also just be reading way too into things, but it's better than spiraling down the pit of grief that sits heavy on her chest from Kodlak’s death. 

If only Lucien were here, she could bounce her theories off of him and listen to his. He would be saying something off the wall yet incredibly profound right now. Like, "what if the Silverhand  looted it off of a werewolf who was Savos's secret lover?" 

Gods, she misses her friends. They temporarily split for a while after accidentally cracking open a hornet’s nest of Thalmor while trying to steal back a family heirloom for a client. She misses Lucien’s outlandish observations, Inigo’s crazy yet true stories, Auri’s cannibalism jokes, and Kaidan’s constant cussing. Everything would be so much better if they were here, and she could pull herself together with one big group hug. And better yet, she wouldn’t be here with Vilkas. 

Ugh, that scruffy asshole! Why in Oblivion would she open up about her mother to him, of all people? Even her close friends barely know anything about that, yet she served it to him on a silver platter. And the worst part is that he sat there, listened, and then had the audacity to show compassion. She’s never felt more embarrassed, and she hates it. Hates it, hates it, hates it. 

With a groan, she lifts herself to rest her head on the table. The bottle of unfinished mead reunites with her and they share a long kiss. Ah, Nordic Mead, the only lover she will ever need. 

The pieces of Wuuthrad are haphazardly spread out before her, a puzzle beckoning to be solved and she complies. She picks up each individual piece and arranges them to try and resemble the legendary battleaxe. One particular fragment makes her pause— a snow elf frozen in an eternal scream is carved into what she assumes is the head of the axe. It’s suiting for a weapon nicknamed “the elf-grinder.” She smooths her fingers over the dark metal and sighs. The horrors this poor elf must have seen. 

“Oh the stories you could tell,” she whispers to it like an old friend. 

“Read the Songs of the Return if you want your story.” A voice speaks up, making her jump and drop the piece. It clatters on the table as she turns to see Vilkas leaning on a pillar. He smooths his disheveled hair away from his tired eyes. 

"You– Don't startle me like that!" Rarely anyone is able to sneak up on her, she doesn't allow it. No one, except… No. It reminds her too much of skilled fingers, a sly smile, and a voice that always sent shivers down her spine with his honeyed words. She'd much rather forget him, for now. 

"Huh, maybe I am a good sneak." A shit-eating grin spreads across his face as he takes a seat next to her, leaning back on the table.

"Fuck you,” she grumbles. Now It’s her turn to be the grumpy asshole. 

“Does it really bother you that much?” He chuckles.

"Yes, and I would appreciate it if you didn't do it again.” She enunciates her words carefully, making sure he understands. 

"Alright, alright."  A lovely smile graces his face that, clears the storm clouds from her mind. She's so used to seeing him scowling that she's thrown off whenever he does it. It's rusty yet tender enough to light up the room. She wonders what a full-blown smile of his would look like and what it would take to get it.

Also, I was wondering if any of my beloved mutuals would be interested in being a beta reader for me? I can pay in doodles and beta read as well <3

[inquisimer]

I need to learn to draw so that I can make Isseya/Calien fanart o(< those two make me so insane and I am utterly bereft

[softboiledteacozy]

At this rate, it's going to take me longer to buy all the Discworld books than it took Pterry to write em. I first bought TCoM when I was still in highschool and getting books in English was A Big Deal here. Then I got ER and TLF on my post highschool Europe trip, in a library at Cambridge, iirc.

Fast forward 12 years after that, when I got GP, followed by this year's three acquisitions.

Still, there's something charming about getting to have so many different editions, so I'll take it

[elise-the-blind]

So do you have any more sketch ideas on showing how Jak and Keira relationship just works despite their near fallout in J2

Legitimate thing that crosses my mind a lot. Like, not gonna ignore that Keira was straight up flirting with the guy who tortured Jak, real wack tbh. They seemingly do go for each other at the end of each game (aside from the Ashelin fling in the 3rd game) so I'm writing them as married cause it makes sense in my mind at this point. Part of me is still bothered tho, obviously, with the way their relationship kept suffering up till Jak X. Some talk had to have gone down somewhere in that timeline, and I'm not entirely sure what that would have been like, but I'd really like to let my au versions have that at least. I might focus on that now while I do some plot figure-out for the au because the eco problem in TLF was dumb. I'm more open to suggestions of how people think this would go down, cause seriously this shit is messy.

[msmargaretmurry]

Hi! I’m Bil, and you won my bid on TeamLiftFest! I’ve sent you an email but I also wanted to send another thank you - I’m v new to tumblr and haven’t wrote a lot so to have someone as well known as yourself bid on me absolutely made my day. I’m so excited to work with you!!

hello, so nice to meet you and you're so welcome! 💖 i'm excited to work with you, too (and will email you back soon, i'm just having a very busy few days)!! i DID go through the TLF auctions looking for someone new to make write about matthew and leon for me and i'm very pleased with myself for succeeding 😎✌️