#epistolary writing
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Why is writing hard for me? Cuz I'm used to writing epistolary works and in this day and age on this website... that will not transfer well to rpf
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assorted bits from historical australia au that was inspired by an old textpost. and also by 1800s naturalist lit on platypuses and other fauna
something like: charlene cajoled roger into letting heinz have a light sentence and he ultimately takes up naturalist studies. but ultimately he doesnt get credited for any of his work, and ends up unanimously blacklisted from the research community for being too much of a freak. like theyve all already figured out the secrets of the platypus but he's hung up on one particular specimen and refuses to kill him or any others to send back home for further dissection, what's up with that?
#draws#i gotta post this and run i have to watch iwtv#in my head i cd envision this setup as a really fun epistolary fic inspired by those argumentative 1800s research journals#but i cant write#the text post was by freedomandfiction i think but i cant find it rn I HAVE TO RUN AAAAAA VAMPIRES#AAAA daniel is so fuckn hot
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bad idea, right?
E || Epistolary (ft. explicit audio messages!)
Buck: are you alone?
Eddie: Alone in the livingroom, yeah.
Buck: he’s asleep in his room, right? door closed?
Eddie: I’m not actually about to jerk off to your mediocre sexting, Buck.
Buck: this isn’t gonna work if you don’t go with me 🙄
Or: Buck stumbles across Eddie's grindr profile.
♡ read on ao3 ♡
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Discord Drabble challenge - Aug 2024
Prompt: Restart
Word count: 137
Potter,
This letter is to express gratitude on behalf of my mother and myself for your speech before the Wizengamot. Although egregiously sanctimonious,—
Potter,
You needn’t have — Why—
I NEVER WANTED YOUR HELP
Potter,
Was one life debt not enough to hold over my head?
I don’t deserve—
You continuously insert yourself into my life until I can think of nothing else. Dreams and waking hours consumed by your green eyes and disfigured face, your back pressed to my chest surrounded by heat and smoke, your arse—
Do all trainee Auror uniforms fit like that or is it just yours that is so tight it’s indecent?
Potter,
What happens now?
Potter,
I don’t think I’ve really hated you for years.
Potter,
Thank you.
-DLM
P.S. Mother has invited you for tea. Saturday 3pm. Don’t be late.
#drarry#hpdm#draco x harry#drarry microfic#drarry drabble#Draco Malfoy attempts to write Harry Potter a letter#harry potter fanfiction#discord Drabble challenge#epistolary
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evan buckley's google search history
-> part one: second adolescence
#evan buckley#bucktommy#i wanna write a social media/epistolary/smth fic#but until that day... voila#evan buckley's google search history#fic ideas
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superspotting!
T | 12k | written for @superfamilyweek day 1: "it's a bird! it's a plane!"
It's a bird! It's a plane! It's... Supernova, trying to process some issues, as seen through the eyes of Metropolitan social media?
[Partial transcript of Justice League Watchtower security room logs, redirected from a Hubble Space Telescope transmission to the Moon.]
[…]
GREEN LANTERN: Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen him pulverize an asteroid in a rage since… huh, since Lex won the election.
MARTIAN MANHUNTER: Hmm. Yes. But I haven’t heard any news about a topic likely to set him off, at least that I am aware of. I wonder what upset him.
GREEN LANTERN: Yeah, no idea. Maybe he’s just having a rough day?
MARTIAN MANHUNTER: …I don’t think a rough day is enough to make Superman beat an asteroid into dust.
GREEN LANTERN: Uh, yeah, I mean… maybe it was a really, really, really rough day. Like, one of those days where you spill coffee on your white shirt before a big job interview, and you’re stuck in traffic ‘cuz you were trying to drink coffee on the go ‘cuz you woke up late, and then some idiot wannabe supervillain blows up the ramp you needed to take, and it’s not even a big name guy your boss would accept as a real excuse, and… now that I’m saying all this, I’m realizing that, like, none of it applies to Big Blue.
MARTIAN MANHUNTER: Hmm. Indeed. Although… well, I am not sure.
GREEN LANTERN: Yeah, I dunno, it’s Superman! He doesn’t lose his cool easy. Hope everything’s okay…
MARTIAN MANHUNTER: If not, we will probably know soon.
GREEN LANTERN: Hey, at least he hasn’t cracked any moons in half this time!
MARTIAN MANHUNTER: …Hm.
GREEN LANTERN: Oh, come on, it was a joke. Don’t look at me like that. I just meant—remember when Lex won the election, and…
[…]
{ read on ao3! }
#rimi writes#THERE IT IS... BABYS FIRST EPISTOLARY FIC...#superfam#timkon#konbart#<- theyre qp but you can read it romo if you like! bart defends kons honor on the internet asmr#clark#nat#tim#kon#bart#lois#john henry#krypto
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It's often been proposed that diary-style epistolary fiction is the historical literary equivalent of the "found footage" film, but I've gotta believe that pretending your story that you wrote is merely your translation of an historical document that you uncovered is at least in the same ballpark.
#media#movies#literature#tropes#writing#epistolary fiction#found footage#metatextual wankery#especially if there are appendices and footnotes
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There are two wolves within you. One of them just came up with a fanfic you desperately need to see, and the other refuses to write it.
#fanfiction#fanfic writers#writing#fanfic memes#fanfic meme#fanfiction meme#fanfiction memes#fanfic#i have a fic idea in which agnes nutter sends crowley and aziraphale a housewarming gift or a wedding card or something#350 years later for when you finally get your crap together#and that’s pretty much it#or like an epistolary fic told only through the prophecies of agnes nutter#need more agnes centric fic to be honest#anyway no i’m not going to write it#i had one (1) friend say they didn’t like my fic and i refuse to write fanfiction ever again#but oh well i can chew the idea for a few days#fanfic writer#fanfiction writer#writing memes#writing meme#two wolves#fandom meme#fandom memes
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For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.
Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.
They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”
“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.
Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”
Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”
Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.
Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”
Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.
Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”
Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”
Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”
“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.
Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.
“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.
Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.
The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.
Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.
It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.
“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.
Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.
“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”
It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.
“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."
“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.
Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”
“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”
#art#my art#the silmarillion#silmarillion epistolary#finwe's sketchbook#house of finwe#finwe#miriel serinde#feanorians#feanor#nerdanel#maedhros#maglor#celegorm#curufin#amras#amrod#elrond#elros#kidnap fam#my writing#fandom event
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If You're Reading This
Pairing: Joel Miller x nb!reader
Word Count: 4.5k
Rating: PG-13, there's no spice. It's all angst bay-beeeeeee
Summary: You met Joel while out on a 'hunting run', you startle him and in return he almost shoots you. After everything settles the two of you get to talking and decide to stay in contact one of the only ways, via letters. Over the time writing each other, you grow feelings for him, and learn things about yourself that you don't know how he'll handle. Telling him, he goes silent, but you refuse to give up hope. Will your hope be enough to keep you going?
Author: Mod Crow (Got a new job so life has been ahhhhh)
Author's Note: The reader says their age. This was for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope! I was very back and forth on how I wanted this to play out, in the end I'm pretty happy with it.
Masterlist
Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, and mentions of raiders and guns.
Dear Joel,
Thanks for not shooting me today, I wasn’t even in my best attire to die. I’m kidding. Not about the not shooting me thing.
It was nice really meeting someone who didn’t want to kill me or rob me. It was also nice having the help dragging a deer all the way back to this place. I only hope my butchering and fileting skills aren’t getting rusty. But hey, if they are, you said something about you showing me “the way it’s done in the big beauty of Texas” or however you worded it. I know you aren’t here, but I need you to know that I’m currently laughing. I made myself laugh. Gods, I’m losing it aren’t I?
Anyways, I should probably start cooking myself something to eat before the sun goes down. If you ever head this way and stop at this place, you should leave me a little letter or something. Obviously, I left this one for you in an obvious spot -and that’s what you should do as well- then after that we can start putting them in more well-hidden places, we can’t have someone finding them before we have a chance to. But that’s for the next letter.
-Y.F.
P.S. Y.F. means your favorite, I know what I am, you don’t have to tell me.
Hey Smartass,
Now that I like the sound of. Oh, and drop the formality, I’m not your pen pal or some shit like that. Ellie wanted me to tell you that “if you try to replace her as my favorite, she will stab you”. I don’t pick favorites. Just so you know. I haven’t had a favorite person in a while now…
God let’s stop talking about the sad shit anymore. I saw a baby squirrel on the porch as I was walking up. I thought maybe he had lost his mama or daddy; I’m thinking that’s what he also thought because when one of his -what I can only assume- parents came back they had scared that poor little thing so bad that he damn near jumped three feet high. I was kind of wishing you could have seen it, I remember you telling me how much you loved nature and all that stuff. Don’t read into that.
Anyways, I don’t know what it’s like heading up from the southwest, but Ellie and I ran into more raiders than we normally do. I don’t know why there’s more, but I’m not liking how things are looking.
I left you some ammo and rations hidden in the fireplace. Ellie left you something, she wouldn’t tell me, besides that it was hidden in the bathroom. That’s all she told me, so I’m guessing that means good luck.
-Joel
I’m not calling you my favorite, I don’t have a favorite between you two nuisances
Dear party-pooper,
Yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on, you fucking party-pooper. ANYWAYS, I found your stash, thanks. The ammo was a life saver…literally…the rations could have at least been a good one. You left me some beef jerky (the only good thing in that damn ration), some stale ass cracker, and some unidentifiable fruit-like substance.
The raiders though, they’ve actually been better. Based on my guess, I think they might have migrated up your way. If you think it’s getting too bad for a bit, I get that, don’t feel pressured to write me back whenever you’re here next.
On a lighter note, Ellie hid a book that she’d think I’d like. So far, her shot in the dark has struck bull’s-eye. Tell her I said thank you. As for where she hid it -you’re gonna love this- she pulled the medicine cabinet off the upstairs bathroom’s wall, knocked out a small bit of drywall, and hid it in the wall before replacing the cabinet. It took me far longer than it should have, but who the fuck would look behind the cabinet on the wall? The cabinet, mind you, looked like it had never been pulled off the wall. Fuck, I really gotta give her credit for how creative she is with hiding places. You should take notes. Your hiding spots in the past have been…kinda in plain sight. Love you old man, but you suck at hiding. Expect, I give you credit to this last drop, up the chimney fluke. Maybe you still have it in you after all, old man.
Anyways…I left some things for you in the door of the fridge. It’s not much this time, things have been rough at this place. We let in this new couple, and they’ve been super suspicious. The first night they were here, the woman -Gabrielle- was found snooping around in the owner of the farm’s wife’s dresser. Gabrielle couldn’t give us a straight answer as to why she was snooping. That wasn’t even the weirdest bit, that same night the man -Kenneth- was snooping around in ALL of our shit. I woke up at gods only know, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn’t think he got any of shit. I didn’t look though, and that’s on me. He got away with most of the things I was going to give you, what he didn’t take is hidden for you. I left Ellie some magazines I found about alternative bands from before the pandemic. I don’t even know if she knows what alternative music is, gods you probably don’t know what alternative music is. I’ll explain that to you in person one of these days.
-Your favorite nuisance
You fucking child,
You and Ellie act like the exact same person sometimes I swear. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Ellie leaving me these notes.
Forget all that, you said that the ammo I stashed for you came in handy? What happened? Are you okay? Were you injured? What happened to the other guy? That’s something I would have paid to see. If half of what the shit you’ve said in the past were true, then you’re a pretty good aim.
What you left me enough, the granola was honestly a god sent. You have no idea how boring coffee was getting. Ellie also said -and I quote- “Hell yeah these bitches look sick.” I have no idea where she’s heard that, because it sure as hell wasn’t me.
Backtracking -kind of- I know we’ve talked raiders, how have those fucking clickers been? I think because of that “migration” or whatever the hell you called it, they’ve been out there killing those fuckers while they snuck through the shadows. Our raider problem went up, but the clicker problem. It’s been too quiet recently. But following that thought, your raider problem went down, so that means your clicker problem got worse. Didn’t it? Fuck… You’re a pain in my ass, but I like this banter I get to have. You should come with Ellie and I back to our little place. It isn’t much, but Ellie’s been complaining that where we are isn’t “comfortable”. I swear she says what she says just to test my patience. But, yeah, Ellie would love it. She’d never shut up and it wouldn’t be me for once. Just give us the when and we’ll meet you here.
-Joel M.
Hey grumpy,
I think I like this nickname the best so far. I do swear one thing to you grumps, I am 100% NOT Ellie. I’m your…something. I’ve been kinda held up in my room at the farm this past week. I’ve been thinking about some things after the raiders. That’s not something I lied about; I am a pretty good shot. So was the leader of the little gang. He was 100% aiming for my head, I’m only alive because I got lucky. He drew his gun quicker than I did, he aimed quicker than I could, and he pulled that fucking trigger before I could…His gun jammed. It took me a minute to even register that I was still alive. When I realized though, gods, was I ready. Almost dying makes you really think about how you want to be remembered by people.
I don’t even know if what I’m thinking would make sense to you. Ellie might, but all she’s ever known is…well whatever it is she grew up knowing. These are things that I haven’t thought about since…fuck, well before the outbreak. Bare with me as I try to figure out to explain this in writing that isn’t going to be a fucking novel.
Actually, before I do that, I want to get this out there first. if you aren’t sure you want to be a part of this emotional blah, I got lucky. Ken left his bag open in Gabrielle’s room right next to her bag in her room! What’s even better? Neither of them were anywhere near the bags, Gabrielle was helping with dinner and Ken was helping with fence repair. I left you just under half of the ammo they had -hey, gotta keep myself safe- and Ken’s utility hatchet like thing (you’ll see what I mean). I also snatched you some more granola. I have no idea how this old couple is doing it, but they have so many oats. They also have a fucking bee house! You know what that means? Fresh honey! And just for you grumps, I snatched a mason jar for the two of you. Honey’s also good for a sore throat. I know it’s getting cold out there. I’ve actually been knitting (I know, I must be lying about my age. I’m not, I swear. I learned how to knit because of my grandma. When I was probably six or seven, I made a huge deal out of wanting to learn to do what my grandma was doing. So, she taught me. After the outbreak, I needed something to do with my hands, otherwise things…things would be incredibly different right now. Gods, sorry about the ramble.) some scarves for the two of you. You have no idea how much yarn got left behind in the stores. If after you read this, you decide you still want me to go with you I will. We can do it the weekend after next. Next week is my birthday and Marieann and George (the old couple of the farm) told me that it was “my day to relax and rest up after the hard year.” Who am I to go against what a sweet old lady tells me to do? That being said, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on and how the two of you are doing. At this point, what’s even the point of keeping track of birthdays anymore? Like, “Yay I lived another horrid year on this dying hunk of space rock, can’t wait to suffer through another one! Anyways, I'm sneaking out past curfew to leave you a note if the plan has changed. Anywho…I found more magazines for Ellie. I’ve hid them in the pantry. She’s smart. Your is hidden in the basement behind that dresser, it’s the same idea as what the kid did in the upstairs bathroom cabinet.
Back to the emotional blah…If anything I write doesn’t make sense, you can try asking Ellie. She may know. Gods, I thought it would be easier to write this out, not having to see your weathered (ignore that) expression change. To what? I don’t know. Anything? Fuck it…Joel when we meet, I thought I had figured myself out. When I met you, I was sure I was a woman. I don’t think that I am…I’m not a man either though. I’m neither? I don’t know how to explain this. Okay, so I was she/her when we met, you were -and still are- he/him. Well, if I’m neither of them I have to have a way to refer to myself, right? I do, instead of she or he, I’m…them. Or they! Well, it’s more like both, they/them. Gods I’m shaking so bad right now haha, I’m just really scared of losing you two…You two have been the first good thing since this shitstorm started. I know I can’t make you write me back, but I can ask you to at least leave me something saying you’ll either come back and write a new note or some kind of…I don’t know sign? That doesn’t feel like the right word, but note isn’t the word I want to use…I don’t know Joel, just please leave something. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll keep coming back till I get another note from you. Even if that means I die doing this because you chose to leave, and I wouldn’t hate you for it.
That’s all I’ve to say. I really do…like you Joel, when thinking, remember I am the person from all of those letters and the few times we met.
-Your Raven no Magpie also no Crow now that’s one I like
Joel,
Hey, I came back this weekend, I’m 26 now! Yay! I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified right now. The clickers are getting worse around the farm, they aren’t too bad on the way here yet, but I know they will be.
I checked to see if you took the stuff, and you did. I saw that Ellie left me a comic book and a band shirt from one of those mags I gave her. I can’t believe she was able to find one, let alone one in my size. I also saw that you left me some ammo and another ration. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something. It gives me hope, and that’s all most of us have nowadays. Along with that hope, I also hope that you'll come back again. If that’s the case, I’ve left you both some things, same places as last.
Joel, for you, more granola (enough for the both of you), a scarf for you, some peach preserves (Marieann opened up some preserves she had made to be opened about this time), and some bread I baked. I warn the bread isn’t pretty, but with the chill, it should last a bit longer.
For Ellie, her scarf, a couple of mangas I found (this will be fun to hear how that goes), a Swiss army knife I found on a dead raider (I know it’s gruesome, but it’s the world we live in now), and a slightly used deck of cards. I felt like she could find a way to entertain herself why you do whatever it is you do when you want to be alone.
-Your hope filled Crow
Hey again,
You took the things again, and you left some more for me. It’s still something. No matter how little. It just hit me, these letters are going to be getting shorter and shorter until I hear from you huh?
Should I even keep writing to you? Maybe don’t answer that. Or do. You take all the time you need. I’m leaving you guys some more things, the same place as before.
-Your Crow
Hey,
I’m sorry about how long it took, I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand at all, and it freaked me out a bit. I asked Ellie if she they understood it and they did. They also came to realize that about themselves too. No, I don't fully understand it, but I’m willing to learn.
Thanks for the scarves, they’ve really helped with the chill at night. Ellie was so intrigued by that one that I’m guessing was the manga. I have no idea if they figured it out, but they’re having a blast trying.
The clickers have been a bit more active around us too. I wonder where they’re all coming from though.
Ellie and I are ready to head out, just tell us when. We’ve gathered all we could, the rest of the stuff we’re leaving is replaceable. Thanks to your scarf we’ve managed to carry a bit more stuff, not the way you meant for them to be used but they’re multifaceted.
I don’t know if Ellie has anything to leave, but I’m assuming it’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much to leave, I found some yarn. I just happened upon it when looting some cars on the main road. I also found a broken bow. I don’t know if you can fix it, but maybe that old man, George(?) could fix it, or maybe someone else in the house. They’re in the basement, it’s the only place they’d fit.
I want to help you keep that hope alive. I have one of my own, I hope we can get somewhere warm and safe together.
Joel, with…
Holy fuck,
Joel, you came back?! Thank you fuck…thank you. If you could see me, I am a mess right now. Gods you’d get a kick.
I wasn’t able to fix the bow, but George was! I guess he used to bow hunt back in the day. He said it may take him a bit; he has to dig out his tools. I’ll leave a letter the night before with an update. If you find a letter then there’s kink in the plans, if you don’t find a letter then it’s because I was there waiting, or I died. Or some other third thing, I like being dramatic sometimes.
With this plan may be happening, I’m not leaving much. This time it’s a kindle of firewood. Dry firewood hidden in the sugar in a mason jar. I remember you saying you drank coffee, and you were growing tired of the taste. So have some sugar, make it sweeter. Maybe add honey too.
-Your Crow
Dear Joel,
I know you hate the formality of these kinds of letters, but for once, just let it be. See the thing is I’m writing this as a “worst case scenario” kinda thing… I started writing about an hour ago for me, gods only know how long it���s been for you. To put in perspective the time difference, I’m writing this the same day I read your letter you had left, the letter about the plans about me coming with the two of you to find somewhere else.
I don’t know what has happened to me to force my hand in leaving this letter, but if I had to take a shot in the dark, I’ve probably been shot by other survivors. I’ve been bitten. If I remember, I’ll try to come back and write what really happened. Anyways, I know we had a plan, I also know that you’re a strong man. You don’t need me; I would have just slowed you down. So now you have to promise me you’ll keep that kid safe. Oh, and if you happen to find yourself in Omaha -I know we’re several hundred miles away, but you never know- stop by 1004 Cicada drive. It’s where I was living when all of the shit hit the fan. Now, I won’t be there to give you the tour, so you better not go tracking mud or anything inside.
Look, there are some things in that house that I think could be beneficial to you, I know you’ll find what you need. I have some things out in the garage, there’s some other things in the attic, and then there’s some things down in the basement’s crawl space. Now, it’s going to be dusty and dirty down there, but back before all of this, it was a beautiful basement. I had just finished painting it that beautiful blue color that has since been destroyed by some fucking raiders. Fuck, look at me gushing over my old basement. I must really sound like some weird fucker, huh?
Anyways, if I’m dead and that’s why you’re reading this, I just wanted to tell you some things…Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start light, that’s what you do right? I don’t know why I keep asking questions, I don’t know your answers to them. Gods do I wish I did know your answers, writing this with the unknown has been killing me. If you could see me right now, you’d have a pretty good laugh, I’m shaking like the last fall leaf in a big dying tree in the middle of a tornado. Fuck, I’m rambling…Look I’m really happy we ran into each other when we did, that day you almost shot me in the forest -behind this decrepit house- I lied to you. You asked me why I was out there, I told you I was looking for some animals to catch. I wasn’t…I couldn’t take any more of this bullshit. So, I was gonna beat the zombies to my death, and I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of bringing me back to be some brainless creature monster. I was going to paint a bit of the forest with gray matter. When you insisted on helping me because you also needed food, I was honestly kinda pissed. But now? Now I’m happy you stuck around. Joel, I don’t wanna make you feel any type of way but…You are the only reason I’m still here on this shithole of a planet. Also…you sticking around had affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting…Joel thanks to you Joel, spending all of that time with you, getting to actually know you, exchanging stories, all of that shit. All of that meant means far more than you could understand, and in that time, I grew to fell in love with you Joel.
I should have told you in person not through a piece of paper. I know there isn’t much I can say now…. but I am sorry. I wish I could have told you in person, I really do, I wish I could have heard your lips say it back. I can only imagine how your raspy, yet honeysuckle sweet voice would say those three words “I. Love. You.” Gods the thought of it…
Anyways, if I keep going, I might accidently write you a book. For whatever reason it is that made me tell you where to find this, I’m happy I got to meet you when I did. Make sure to tell Ellie I said hi. You make sure you keep that girl safe or so Gods help you, Joel Miller.
-Your Crow, with love
P.S. Joel I don’t know how much longer I have till I turn, but I just wanted to say before I die, I love you Joel, tell Ellie I love her too. I left you my remaining ammo and handgun. I left Ellie my lucky bullet casing -we both know she’ll love it- and my bracelet, the one with that little metal rabbit foot charm. You have no idea how excited I was to leave that lonely farm. I would finally be with people I cared about and who cared about me. Like who actually cared about me.
I had a weird feeling that this is how things would go, so I planned. I know I’m leaving you my handgun and ammo. The handgun only has one bullet right now. You can fill it the rest of the way and leave, or you can do what I was too scared to do in the end…Kill me. Right now, I’m in the kitchen writing this. I don’t feel good, I feel like someone beat me with a lead pipe. My head is throbbing, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating because I’m hot with a fever, or if because of a cold chill.
I thought I’d have a bit of time, you know, write you some more, pour my heart out on paper for you, but I don’t. It wasn’t a deep bite, but it was a bite, nonetheless. I tried to sneak past this clicker, I was doing so well until I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn’t try to fight it, I thought I’d have better luck running back here. I didn’t…
I love you Joel, I really really ….
*Joel’s POV*
Your writing at the end was practically ineligible, trailed off almost. Joel wasn’t quite sure, what he was sure of, was the feeling of his heart break. An all too familiar break, one he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s mom…
Joel quickly and silently tore his path through the house, he was certain that you were playing some kind of sick cruel joke.
“Joel. Joel! Come on man,” Joel could hear Ellie, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Ellie wrong, that’s why. Yeah, that makes sense. “Joel, Jesus fucking Christ. STOP!” Hearing Ellie’s loud voice had pulled him to a halt.
“Joel, I know you loved them man, I did too. I don’t know what hell-bent path you’re on, but you aren’t going to find them okay. I know,” Joel looked to Ellie, his unfocused eyes taking a moment. When his eyes finally focused, he could see it, he could see the tears that were pouring from Ellie’s face. That’s when he realized he too was crying. “I looked for them after I found their rabbit’s foot bracelet. I think they’re in the basement, the door is locked or jammed. I can’t get it open.” Joel swallowed the pained howls that wanted to rip through his tired body. Clearing his throat, Joel quickly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve.
“You stay up here; I’ll get it figured out. No matter what, I don’t care if you're curious or something else, don’t under any circumstances come down there am I clear?” Joel clenched his jaw, he needed something to focus on something, so why not something he can do.
Ellie never responded verbally, but Joel saw the stiff nod. Turning from Ellie Joel tried to make quick work of finding the things you left. It took him far less time than he expected. Joel also found a key; one he could only assume you left. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy or showy, but if he had to guess, it would unlock that basement door. Was that even something he wanted to do? Kill you? Or rather, kill the already dead you?
Heading back to the dining room, Joel looked at the things he had found in the house. The one catching his attention first? Your handgun. The one with only one bullet loaded in it. Picking up the gun, Joel examined it in his hand, the handle was worn, faint groves noticeable to the touch. The metal on it had definitely seen better days, days when the metal was clean and before it was used in all of this shit.
Swallowing the lump in his throat down, Joel took the key -along with the gun- to the basement door. Standing there, Joel simply stared at the handle. God only knows how long he stood there, but hearing Ellie walk into the dining room, pulled him back to the doorknob in hand. Gripping the gun tighter, Joel carefully put the key into the knob. Giving it a trying twist, Joel felt it resist for a second, before a soft ‘click’ could be heard. Gripping the knob, Joel twisted it slowly and carefully pulled the door open. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the basement, maybe you had found a way to do this. Something he was now dreading. Readying the gun, Joel carefully made his way down the stairs, trying to be as light as possible on his feet.
Once his feet hit the basement floor, Joel clicked on his flashlight. The basement wasn’t huge by any means, but it did have a smaller room off the back wall. Walking towards the doorway, Joel practically held his breath to listen for the all too well known cl-
The sound of clicking slowly filling the air as he grew closer. The sound put him to a stop. Can he really do this? Yes, because you shouldn’t have to be one of them. Clenching his jaw Joel continued on.
In the doorway, Joel could barely make out the shadow of you, or at least what used to be you. It was kind of hard to tell for certain where the bite was for certain, but it seemed as if it was your shoulder. As he stood there, Joel was silent, he wanted to remember what you were like, this wasn’t you and he knew that. You were gone by now, long gone and he knew that. Raising the gun, Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Joel cocked the handgun, the click of the hammer grabbing your attention. Staring at what used to be your face, Joel could feel the tears run down his face.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker my Crow.” His last word punched through the silence, with the loud echo of a spent shell.
'''''''
The divider was made by the beautiful @mikeykuns
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#crow and mouse writings#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal characters#pedrohub#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro brainrot#fanfiction#mod crow#mod crow writing#roll a trope challenge#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#the last of us#tlou#tlou joel#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x reader#nonbinary reader#joel miller x nb!reader#epistolary#joel miller epistolary
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HEY I LOVE THE SCHEHEREZADE PARALLEL ACTUALLY?? trapped with a capricious tyrant who must be entertained through the night, and you don’t know how long you yet have to live but all you can do is keep trying to be pleasant, to be interesting, to talk yourself hoarse if that’s what it takes and pray that it’ll be enough
#dracula daily#finx reads dracula#I'm into it!!!#especially given the epistolary framing of this novel! jonathan is writing down the story of what happens to him#in hopes that it'll keep him sane#in hopes that someone may yet somehow read his tale and learn the truth from it#in hopes that the story may outlive him#and it does!! we're reading it now all these years later!
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one of my favourite types of bob fanfiction is the type where it gets meta and winnix is real and now lewis is fighting with steve ambrose or dick is writing a forward dedicated to lewis in his memoirs...
#the same reason i love epistolary fics#if you write these im in love with you#winnix#dick winters#lewis nixon#band of brothers#the same reason im obsessed with making little family trees and things i love documentation#and old man yaoi
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correspondence and revelations shortly after Dagor Bragollach for @silmarillionepistolary
To, Caranthir Morifinwë Fëanorian Lord of the East
Dear cousin, it is with great sorrow which I greet you. The attacks of the Enemy took us all by surprise and I mourn the blow the loss of Thargelion will surely have on us all. Though I had never the chance to visit I had heard many great things of the eastern mountains, they were fair to behold, I am told, and I know that you loved it there. Still it gladdens me to hear that you and yours escaped for the most part unscathed. Know whatever aid and support we can spare is already on its way to you as you receive this letter.
I'm sure you know already that Celegorm and Curufin have taken up refuge among my people. You should know you they are well and whole. They, along with I, have sent letters detailing their arrival and stay. I have also sent some papers detailing preliminary adjustments to traderoutes and logistics for delivering aid among our people and allies. I am sure you have more than enough plans of your own and as always i defer to you judgement on such matters.
But all this aside I had another matter I wished to inform you of concerning one of the people of Haleth in Brethil. I have kept it to myself for some time but if anything has come from these last days is that none of us knows when doom will rear its head.
The Lady Haleth herself I met only a few times, when negotiating the terms of her people’s dwelling, and found her to be a woman of brusque and bright countenance. Indeed, when I learnt of her dealings with you I thought that the pair of you must have gotten on like a house on fire, else hated each other entirely. But I digress.
It was upon one of those meetings when I saw a child, I reckoned at the time, perhaps five by the count of Men often about her dwelling. No husband she ever spoke of nor did I ask. The child had her likeness and hearing of the tradgey that claimed the rest of her family, I thought perhaps his father had perished with her kin.
In truth, I thought little of it at all until some years ago, on a visit to the city of Menegroth, when I found a youth milling about the edges of the Girdle. It must have been two hundred years since I’d last seen him, the Haladin had since had two chieftains but the boy looked no older than twenty. He named himself a changeling in his own tongue and told me his father was one of the Eldar.
Erestor he called himself in Sindarin for though he’d lived among his people, at on the request of his mother had not taken her title. Instead he stayed as a counseler for his cousin and later his children and grandchildren. (The translation is a bit off I deem but he having learned more seems loath to correct it and resistant to advice) Either way, wishing to learn more of his father’s people and had come to Doriath to see if he may by his blood be permitted. I spoke with him a while and finding him genuine in his desire, brought him with me and vouched for him before Elu Thingol, the King.
Since then he visits the city every few summers and then returns to his people before the snows set in. He has had little trouble of it, for his mother’s features hide much of his fathers heritage and he is wont to pass through, drawing as little attention to himself as he can. But I found him curious and upon further investigation and despite his protests to the contrary, I am certain his father is Noldorin. In fact, on those rare occasions he does smiles without restrain cousin - were it not for his quiet temperament I know he did not inherit from his mother - I would have wondered if he was your own.
At any rate, considering the time and circumstances I first found him, it's likely it is that his father is among your people. I can think of any number of reasons such a thing would have been hidden from offical records but I truly doubt it could have happened without your knowledge. To the point, I thought, especially in the chaos of these days, you might pass on some news of the boy’s well being. I have had news from Brethil, written in the the his hand, they are well, if overwhelmed with refugees from Dor Lomin. But he is safe. Perhaps that might comfort his kin in Amon Ereb. And perhaps you could tell him that his child is a scholar in training. That he is happy, as much as any of us can be, and untouched by doom or darkness. May he remain so.
I hope I have not overstepped in my assumptions. Always I have hesitated in speaking on this subject. I just have with the loss of don't want to leave anything unsaid that ought to be.
That is all.
As I detailed before, i have sent ahead letters pertaining to more practical means. I have no doubt in your prompt reply. I wish you well, cousin. May Tilion watch your steps before the Dawn breaks.
Finrod Felagund King of Nargothrond
#this has been sitting in my drafts#waiting for the right moment#so here you go:)#silmarillion epistolary#my writing#silmarillion#tolkien#finrod felagund#caranthir x haleth#caranthir#erestor#erestor son of canarthir
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WIP Wednesday
I was tagged by @typicalopposite and @bangpop91
Enjoy some of the next chapter of my letter fic Our own Words!
Chapter 1 on Ao3
****
"Earth to Kinard!"
Tommy jerked awake, nearly falling off the couch. "Yes, sir!"
"You've hit your maximum flight hours," Captain Dennis said, studying his exhausted pilot. "You are on mandatory leave for the next 72 hours."
"But sir—" Tommy straightened, trying to appear more alert than he felt.
"No buts. You're working yourself to the bone to distract yourself from your personal life, and you're not safe to fly." Dennis's tone left no room for argument.
"Ground ops..." Tommy tried, desperation creeping into his voice. "I'll take ground support."
"Tommy," Captain Dennis began, his voice softening with concern. "That's an order."
"Yes, sir," Tommy murmured.
"Order yourself an Uber, and we'll see you in three days."
The drive home was slow, but Sanjay, his Uber driver, didn't try to make small talk. Tommy reminded himself to leave a big tip. He rolled himself out of the black Buick, barely managing to stay upright.
"Thanks," he yawned.
He trudged up his walkway, stopping at his overstuffed mailbox. Inside, he mechanically sorted through the stack. "Bill, bill, advertisement, letter—" he paused, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he stared at the familiar handwriting.
His heart skipped a beat. Could it be? The stamp of a bioluminescent fish in the corner answered his question. That had been one of his favorite of Ev— Buck's deep dives.
Tommy collapsed onto his couch, the letter grasped tightly in his calloused hands. For a long moment, he just stared at his name written in that achingly familiar handwriting. Finally, he opened the envelope with trembling fingers and began to read.
"Dear Tommy..."
A tear rolled down his cheek, then another. He loved him. Evan loved him and he had hurt Evan so much.
But Evan deserved better than him. Evan deserved someone who was whole and unbroken. Someone who could open up to him. Tommy wanted to—God, he wanted to—but his trauma ran deep, and he didn't want to burden Evan.
So he ran. Ran like he always did. Ran to protect Evan. Ran to protect his own heart.
****
Open tags!
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A million words (For lovers in different worlds)
Chapter 1: Returned to Sender
Summary: Spencer still writes Maeve letters, shipping them to rot in the mailbox of empty house to be sent back. What happens when the the desolate house finally becomes another’s home?
Chapter Summary: An epistolary; all the letters that were returned.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death, canon typical violence. (More tags will be added as the fic progresses.)
Letter 002: “For the immaterial sight of you outweighs the tangibility, the touch of everyone and everything else.”
Letter 003: “Please, my dear, allow me to bear your heart once more. I want to feel the surge of your blood, the chattering of your bones.”
Letter 004: “An eternity of peace and more.”
Letter 005: “Nothing will ever rival the beauty you display.”
#criminal minds#fanfic#fanfiction#spencer reid x maeve donovan#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer and maeve#spencer reid x oc#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid#maeve donovan criminal minds#maeve donovan#maeve criminal minds#maeve and spencer#maeve and spencer criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds fanfiction#ptolomia amdwflidw#ptolomia writes#angst#angsty#epistolary#letters
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Superboy (1994) #57
"Well, the thing is, I already know almost everything about you, Superboy." "Really?" "Sure. As the Project's most successful experiment, the journals have covered you extensively."
i want to see the journal articles about superboy pleaaase let me see the published cadmus research papers oh my god...
#rimi's comic liveblogging#my first foray into epistolary-adjacent fic: writing a research paper but pretending its about kon#just kidding. unless?#also you guys i miss serling so bad. look at her she is such an icon sdkjfhdsfj#kon#serling
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