#google alternative

[teenwerewoofs]

Yay!

[unicornlovers10]

Do you guys (gender-neutral) know of a good alternative to Google Docs? I've been using it for years and I want to move my writing off of it. Because Google is planning to start this, and I don't want that to happen to my writing. Even if it's in a really rough state.

I should also explain my current writing system (as of August 2023). This is extremely simplified by the way, also there is some overlap between different programs/apps.

~My current writing system~

Google Docs: Online backup of drafts, random lore tidbits, practice drafts, chapter outlines, story arc outlines, character sheets, basic worldbuilding, etc. The bulk of my writing stuff happens here.

LibreOffice: Everything that Google Docs does but offline

Pluot: Lore, detailed worldbuilding, character sheets, story arc outlines, chapter outlines

Notion: Visualizing timelines, compiling everything into a "wiki"

Also, just to let you know, I'm on a pretty strict budget. So I can't afford the super-expensive programs or subscription services. I'd prefer to use something that's free, or super cheap.

[the960writers]

Alternatives to google docs

For various reasons, this is now a hot topic. I'm putting my favorites here, please add more in your reblogs. I'm not pointing to Microsoft Word because I hate it.

Local on your computer:

1.

LibreOffice (https://www.libreoffice.org/), Win, Linux, Mac.

Looks like early 2000 Word, works great, imports and exports all formats. Saves in OpenDocumentFormat. Combine with something like Dropbox for Cloud Backup.

2.

FocusWriter (https://gottcode.org/focuswriter/) Win, Linux.

Super customizable to make it look pretty, all toolbars hide to be as non-distracting as possible. Can make typewriter sounds as you type, and you can set daily wordcount goals. Saves in OpenDocumentFormat. Combine with something like Dropbox for Cloud Backup.

3.

Scrivener (https://www.literatureandlatte.com/scrivener/overview) Win, Mac, iOS

The lovechild of so many writers. Too many things to fiddle with for me, but I'm sure someone else can sing its praises. You can put the database folder into a Dropbox folder for cloud saving (but make sure to always close the program before shutting down).

Web-based:

4.

Reedsy bookeditor (https://reedsy.com/write-a-book) Browser based, works on Firefox on Android. Be aware that they also have a TOS that forbids pornography on publicly shared documents.

My current writing program. Just enough features to be helpful, not so many that I start fiddling. Writing is chapter based, exports to docx, epub, pdf. You can share chapters (for beta reading) with other people registered at Reedsy.

5.

Novelpad (https://novelpad.co/) Browser based.

Looks very promising, there's a youtuber with really informative videos about it (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHN8TnwjG1g). I wanted to love it, but the editor didn't work on Firefox on my phone. It might now, but I'm reluctant to switch again.

------

So, this is my list. Please add more suggestions in reblogs.

[teatreejammer]

dave laub's artstation

[hjbender]

Hey Bender, what was that writing program you recently posted about that was an alternative to google docs? My computer died today and when i get a new one i think i wanna make a switch to something that DOESNT have the authority to spontaneously lock me out of all my work and train Ai by stealing it

Proton! Specifically, Proton Docs, which is currently a feature of Proton Drive. Pretty much exactly like Google but without the bullshit.

I've been using Proton Mail for a while now, but for the longest time there was no real alternative to GDocs, especially in terms of accessibility across multiple devices (PC, phone, etc). Now there is, and I'm really happy about it. Give it a try and see if it works for you.

[littlemissmoodswings]

finally got around to watching wwdits, so you know what that means. . . .

what we do in the shadows (genderswapped edition)

mitra jouhari as nadira the relentless.

jamie demetriou as nasos of antipaxos.

rose byrne as leslie 'lizzy' cravensworth.

belissa escobedo as guillermina de la cruz.

and of course who could forget —

angela kinsey as karen robinson.

[kerrste]

Ser Francis amongst the Anglo-Saxons

[glass-needles-and-futurisms]

Muse studio albums, 1999-2022

(idea taken from here)

[beeqisch]

very self indulgent timkon doodles

[nityisdreaming]

old and new russia doodles

[best-chaotic-neutral]

I thought about this screenshot I posted a while back, and was thinking how hilarious Far Cry 5 would be if the Peggie’s were just a cult full of geriatrics. Like you drop into Hope County like in the cannon version but instead you get greeted with a church full of decrepit old people with a 100 year old Joseph Seed rambling incoherently until he sees you and he’s like “God will not let you take me” and he has to grab his walker before being led to the helicopter.

His followers who still have their knees and backs climb onto your helicopter as it takes off, you crash, and Joseph somehow doesn’t explode on impact, and he declares that the Peggie’s begin the reaping, and it’s just a bunch of octogenarians slowly shuffling towards you

[zippyskyfalls]

Ruthlessness: Google Translate edition

☆○------------🐚------------○☆

frame

frame

frame

frame

frame

frame

make rich

... Pip.

With the year

I'm not angry (roll credits)

I try to shit on shoes

But dangerous, I left

I am very good

But he killed my child and

It's right

You are blind ... I

Are you here?

I will not leave an election

valuable

I think nolf's view of nolf is equal to zero

I have to have my blood!

You should see how they steal!

But before I go, I have to learn how to learn.

Love is good but

Love is good but

US

It's expensive

Because you are. Although. Special.

Think of, the Greek forget the judgment

I hate it!

While a company hides your soul but does not take people with you, it will not work

I think if you kill my child, it can be perfect!

No

You are beautiful (there are other ways ahh)

Privilege

The last stone of the chorus is now broken by snow!

Say your name

Again again

You are bad when I'm lucky

Love is good but

Love is good but

US

The time has come

Do you die today?

If you apologize for my son's pain and buses

FALLAM is not broken.

We returned him the weapon.

We do not like his concern

We want to be ...

...In the middle of the line.

Hey, I hope we hope.

Next to your heart.

The world is dark.

(Best work ...)

Basic lesson.

*epic background music with men dying*

... What are you doing?

(If there is a northern part of the northern recording?)

40 They left their command.

(When will the monster be?)

I am a dark period ...

The monster is around!

... Do you have a password?

ALL I NEED TO DO IS OPEN THIS BAG

I WORK!? ; ;

Remember me ...

[wreckedandpolemic]

can't seem to get it right - matty healy

prompt: secret admirer

day 1 of the lovely @abiiors' valentine75 prompts!! i actually dont think this is very good i am very much a one trick pony in this space However i had fun writing it and thats what matters!!!

no warnings here this is v v short and sweet <3

Nauseated, you swat at the tacky, heart-shaped balloon as it drifts into your vision, ignoring its owner’s affronted scoff and stomping off down the hallway. Matty snickers behind you and you turn your glare on him. He holds his hands up in mock-surrender. “What’d that balloon ever do to you?”

You roll your eyes. “Fucking hate this week. It’s not even Valentine’s yet and this whole fucking place is full of dickheads who think their hormone-fuelled ‘love story’ makes them the centre of the universe. Just an excuse for brands to paint themselves pink and flog you shiny crap that’ll go in the bin after five seconds.” A strange look flickers across Matty’s face, but the bell rings sharply before you can question it. You trudge off to your class — double History, ugh — and don’t think on it for another moment.

The boy that sits across from you in History, Cameron, has a massive crush on you, flirts incessantly, flushes when you turn a smile on him. He’s not hard to look at, sweet-faced and kind, and not totally hopeless with a textbook, either. So, when he blushes and stammers his way through asking you out when you mention not having any Valentine’s plans, you think, this could be fun. “Is it gonna be worth my time?” you ask, leaning towards him and grinning when he flinches. “Convince me.” Eyebrows go up around the table at your challenge, Cameron smiling nervously and stuttering out something that passes for an affirmative. You flash your teeth, predatory. Maybe you shouldn’t play around with boys like this, but it’s so much fun. And they make it so easy.

The next morning, a card addressed to you has been slipped into your locker. The message is short, but sweetly poetic, witty in a way you hadn’t known Cameron could be. It’s unsigned, but the sentiment is adorable, and you make a mental note to get him a gift later. You catch sight of Matty sloping down the hall, and wave him over. “How sweet is this?” you say, smiling cheek to cheek. “Didn’t think he’d actually convince me to go on a date with him, but… Who knows? Might actually be fun.”

Matty’s face falls for a split second, before he rearranges it into smooth blankness that quickly crumples into confusion. “Wait– date? With who?” he demands. 

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Cameron. From my History. He’s nice.”

Matty scoffs. “I’m sure,” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Your face scrunches, displeased. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’s a top bloke, and you’ll skip off into the sunset holding hands and pop out a million adorable little blonde babies.”

You splutter a laugh, shoving him gently. “Don’t be a dick. He’s nice,” you repeat, fixing him with a glare. “I haven’t even agreed to the date yet, nobody’s skipping off into the sunset.”

Shrugging, Matty kicks idly at the row of lockers. “Yet,” he teases, and the brief flare of awkwardness between you melts away. “Listen, I really don’t feel like hanging around this shithole the rest of the day. Wanna come smoke?” he offers. You shouldn’t — you really shouldn’t — but that’s never stopped you before. Especially when it comes to Matty and the teasing grin he dares you with.

“Go on, then.” You shoulder your bag and follow Matty out of the gates, the short stroll to your favourite smoke spot passing quickly as you chat back and forth about nothing.

“I can’t believe you’re actually going on a fucking date,” Matty tells you, voice thickened by the smoke pouring from his mouth.

“Oi!” you snap playfully. “Why’s that so unbelievable, huh?”

“Well, you’re hideous, for one,” he says, gasping when you stomp down hard on his foot. “I’m messing, I’m messing! You were the one being mardy about Valentine’s Day, like, yesterday, though.” He shrugs, passing you the last of the joint. 

Flicking away the roach, you blow out rings of smoke. “Yeah, I dunno. Probably won’t go, but it’s kind of nice being chased.” You scoff, leaning back against a tree. “I know you don’t have that problem, ‘cos you’ve got all your fuckin’ groupies.” A sharp edge creeps into your words at the end, and you bite the inside of your cheek to curb it. “But some of us aren’t used to that attention every second of the day, and we take it where we can get it.”

Matty shrugs. “Touche. Don’t think he’s worth your time, though,” he says, tone thick with something you can’t decipher through the weed-induced haze enveloping your mind.

You wave a hand dismissively. “Shut up, you dick.”

After dousing yourself in body spray to cover the weed smell, you let yourself into your house, stopping short at the bouquet that sits innocently under the hallway mirror. Red carnations bound around pink roses and an inexplicable spray of miniature daffodils, a muted pink ribbon tying them closed.

“Hi, love!” your mum shouts, appearing around the corner. “Those came for you while you were out. No name. Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” she grins, nudging you as you flush.

“It’s just this bloke from my History.” You wave a hand dismissively, but you can’t help smiling at the bouquet. “Trying to convince me to go out with him for Valentine’s.”

Your mum’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, eyes so wide it’s comical. “You? Valentine’s?” she says incredulously, face softening into a warm smile. “Love, that’s great. You’ll have such a good time,” she smiles.

You scoff. “Steady on, I haven’t said yes, yet.”

Smirking knowingly, your mum pads off into the kitchen, shouting back at you to be down for tea in an hour. You pick up the flowers on your way upstairs, arranging them delicately in a vase on your windowsill and snapping a quick picture. You debate texting Cameron a thank you, but decide against it — he sent them anonymously, after all.

Strangely, though, Cameron’s behaviour the rest of the week is at odds with the gifts that keep piling up. The chocolates aren’t a surprise, and nor is the single red rose laid across your desk, though maybe a little dramatic. But he doesn’t take credit for any of it, nothing in his face even indicating there’s anything he should be taking credit for.

That Friday, the last day Cameron has to convince you, a little, flat box finds its way into your schoolbag. You peel off the ribbon and find a delicate necklace nestled against deep blue velvet. It’s exquisite, a crystal pendant hanging off a thin silver chain. You slide into your seat in History, a little bemused, and smile at Cameron. He smiles back, twirling his hands nervously. “Everything was lovely,” you say, and his brow furrows in confusion. “The card, and the chocolates, and the flowers. I’d love to go out with you.” He breaks into a wide smile, sunlight practically beaming from his face. “But the necklace is too much — it must’ve cost a fortune!”

He blinks innocently at you. “Um, that’s great. I’d, um, love to take you out. But, uh, I didn’t get you any gifts,” he says, biting his lip.

Your head spins as you sift through your memories of the last week, reexamining them through a new lens. All at once, something clicks into place, and you bolt out of your seat. “I’m sorry,” you rush out. “I can’t go out with you. I’ve gotta– I need to go.” You shove your stuff back into your bag, leaving Cameron stuttering and baffled at your back, and dash off.

You find Matty where he usually is, tucked away in a practice room and engrossed in a guitar. Taking a second before he notices you outside the door, you fix the necklace around your neck and smooth your hair nervously. Should you put on some lipgloss? No, that’s crazy, right? It’s Matty. Your heart is racing, your mouth suddenly dry. How were you so fucking stupid? Of course fucking Cameron from History didn’t write that stupid card. 

Taking a deep breath to settle your nerves, you turn the handle of the practice room, and it rattles but stays closed. Locked, obviously. You clap a palm to your face; this is off to a terrible start. Then, Matty looks up, eyes lighting up as they find the pendant at the hollow of your throat, your heart melting at the sweetness in his face.

Matty stands up to open the door. “Hi,” he says, and all the tenseness melts from your body.

“It was you,” you whisper, collapsing into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. “All of those lovely things were you. And you let me bang on about fucking Cameron all week! Matty, I feel like a total idiot, I’m so sor–” Matty cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours, tentative and gentle.

“Knew you’d figure it out eventually, love, smart girl that you are,” Matty murmurs against your lips, and you smile softly, face flushed. He pulls you close, his body warm against yours, and tugs you into the practice room, pressing you up against the door as soon as it clicks shut. 

You lose yourself in his kiss, his hands steady at your waist as you melt against him. His tongue parts your lips and sweeps your mouth, tasting faintly of cigarettes and spearmint gum. Breathless, you break away, a string of saliva briefly connecting your lips, and you giggle quietly as it breaks. “Thank you,” you murmur.

A dopey smile crosses his face. “You’re welcome,” he says, cupping your jaw and pulling you back in, kissing you so hard it steals the breath from your lungs. A quiet squeal escapes you when he dips his head to bite at your neck, and you indulge him for a moment before pushing his head away gently.

“Down, boy,” you say, giggling when he kisses over the necklace at the hollow of your throat.

Matty’s eyes shine hopefully as he looks down at you. “So,” he dips his head to kiss you. “Can I finally take you out?” He punctuates every word with a kiss, butterflies swirling in your stomach.

Widening your eyes, you look up at him with a pout that splits into a smile without your permission. “Well, my Saturday did just free up…” you tease, and he rolls his eyes. “I’d love to.” You stretch to your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

Matty grins, his joy practically infectious, warming you through and melting your heart, leaving it dripping stickily down your ribs. His lips meet your neck again, his next words murmured against your bruising skin. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

[guiltypleasureswriting]

The minister pointed his finger at Harry and he felt a flash of fear in his chest. “The poison in your wine could only have come from him, Your Majesty! Your consort is trying to kill you!” It wasn’t true, he hadn’t poisoned the wine. In fact, he was shocked to think, that he would rather drink the goblet full before Draco got a chance at a single drop. He just hoped Draco knew that. 

“No,” Draco said as he stood gracefully from his throne. The light from the torches on the wall flickered and reflected off his pale hair. The precious stones and silver thread woven into his doublet glittered and his deep green cape draped elegantly from his shoulders. He shone with power as he stepped forward to tower over the minister.  “If my husband wished to kill me he would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

The minister staggered back at the conviction in his king’s voice but before he tripped, Draco grabbed him by the collar. “You dare accuse my consort, Haveron?” He whispered in a deadly voice. “You murmur lies into the ears of my people. You sow doubt.” The minister was shaking in the King’s grasp. “You have a wicked tongue but you have lost yourself in desperation.” Draco released him with a shove and wiped his hand on his doublet like simply touching the man would infect him. “I will have no more of it; you are to leave my kingdom at once.” 

Draco ordered the guards to escort the minister out and then strode away from his throne. As he passed Harry, he met his eyes but no expression crossed his face. Harry followed him into his chambers. Draco stood in front of the hearth while Harry took a seat on the plump green chair facing him. 

“You did not poison me.” Draco stated not looking away from the flames. 

“I did not.” Harry replied. 

“Why?” 

“As you said, sire, I would rather look you in the eye.” 

Draco hummed and turned to look at Harry. “So then, who put that poison in my cup?”

“I thought the minister did.”

Draco huffed and swept his cape as he settled into the chair next to Harry’s. He titled his head, cheek turned slightly into his shoulder and settled his gaze on Harry.

“No, Haveron does not have the fortitude to carry out such a task.” 

Harry grunted in disbelief and grumbled, “He had the fortitude to accuse me of treason in front of your court.” 

Draco smiled, “Do not worry, my dear. I never suspected you.”

“You expected me to commit such a crime until very recently.” Harry said pointedly.

Draco grimaced and sighed. “I am sorry we had such a turbulent start.” 

“Yes well, a turbulent start is to be expected when you are married off to your family's sworn enemy.”

Reaching out a hand, Draco brushed a bit of hair from Harry’s forehead and then lightly trailed his fingers down his cheek. He smiled softly and murmured, “We’re not enemies anymore, are we Harry?” 

Harry nudged his cheek into Draco’s open palm and smiled back. “No, we are not.” Draco’s fingers rested over Harry’s pulse point and Harry brushed a kiss on his palm before taking his hand from his cheek. Harry held his hand in one of his own with the palm facing upward. With his other hand, he traced his fingers over the lines in Draco’s hand. Then, once again, he bent his head and placed a purposeful kiss on Draco’s hand. 

“It is getting late.” Draco said softly. “Let us rest. We will worry about assasination attempts in the morning.” 

Harry nodded and stood with Draco, their hands still clasped together as he followed him into their bed. 

Wrapped in the warmth of the dying hearth and his lover’s arms, Harry felt he could relax and forget impending war and the attempts on his husband’s

life. Feeling safe, he drifted away to sleep. 

But the peace did not last long.

Harry was woken in the early hours of the morning by pounding on the door and a voice crying out, “My King! My King, you must wake up!” Draco groaned at the noise and tightened his grip on Harry. His bare arm was draped over Harry’s waist as they slept with their legs tangled together. 

“What is it?” Draco called out to the voice.

“An emergency, Your Highness! A rider returned with news of an army marching this way, only a day out.”

Draco jolted out of bed pulled on a nightshirt whispering, “Fuck, fuck.” to himself. Harry was barely given a chance to follow his husband’s example and cover himself before Draco was throwing open the wooden door to their chambers. The voice that had woken them belonged to a nervous looking courier. He wore a simple tunic and breeches and held a piece of parchment in his left hand and a torch in his right. “Whose army approaches?” 

The couriers tembled, “I do not know, sire. I was just told to wake you and deliver this.”  He held out the parchment for Draco to take which he did.

“Go find my advisors and Lady Pansy. Tell them to gather in the war room at once.” 

“Yes sire.” The courier skittered off. 

Draco took a deep breath and peered down at the note. Harry moved behind him quietly and placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder. When he took a sudden sharp breath in through his teeth, Harry tightened his grip. “Who is it, Draco?” 

“It is Riddle’s army. But they are flying the Malfoy crest.” The air caught in Harry’s throat.

“What?” 

Draco turned and looked Harry in the eye. Harry still had one hand around Draco’s shoulder and with his free hand, he clasped Draco’s and squeezed. “It seems my father is returning for his throne.” 

It was common knowledge to the people of Slytherin that King Draco had not settled on the throne through simple inheritance. Although he was the heir, he became king while his father still lived. The story had spread quickly through the surrounding kingdoms, becoming legend in under a year. 

The Prince of Slytherin was always beloved. Although spoiled and stuck up, he was known to have a kind heart, even if he didn’t show it. He did not smile and he did not laugh, but when he was walking among the commoners, he gave children gifts of sweets and toys. Many times, when he came across a beggar, he sat with them and offered them a meal. He frequented taverns often, sitting in corners to avoid suspicion. He often struck up conversation with anyone interested to talk with him about the poor and suffering in the kingdom. He would hear the grievances of his people and promise them he would do what he could to convince the King to hear their case. 

The King of Slytherin was cruel. He hoarded wealth and ignored his people. He looked for power wherever he went and demonstrated it at every chance. He was not always a tyrant though. Before Draco was born, he was a decent ruler. Not particularly great, but he fed his people and kept up with concerns. When Queen Narcissa died in childbirth, the King was withdrawn. He handed his son off to nursemaids the moment Narcissa was gone and refused to take visitors for months. Until one day, he did take a visitor. This visitor promised the King riches and power and most of all revenge. He convinced the King it was the Kingdom of Gryffindor that caused the Queen’s death. It was a political plot by his most sworn enemies to undermine his reign once and for all. This manipulative visitor was named Tom Riddle. 

The Prince grew up knowing only love from Nursemaids and never his father. The King only treated the Prince with cold distance and discontent. He was only an heir. As the Prince grew he developed more and more hatred for his father. Draco loved his people. He wanted them to be happy and flourishing but his father did not treat the people with any respect. They were only peasants to be exploited. When the Prince came of age he found an old tome detailing an ancient Slytherin tradition. It said the only way to take the throne from the current ruler before their death was to challenge them to a duel and win. So the Prince challenged his father to a duel. It was very public, with the whole kingdom gathering to watch. And when Draco defeated his father and banished him from Slytherin along with Riddle, the people rejoiced. 

When Harry and Draco had made themselves decent and arrived in the war room, Draco’s advisors were gathered around the war map.

Other scenes:

The day Harry woke up a married man, it was cold. Very, very cold. He dressed in many layers and waited in his chambers until there came a knock at the door calling him to breakfast. When he arrived in the hall, the King was already sitting at his place at the head of the table. Harry stood awkwardly in the entryway for a moment wondering where he should sit. 

The King looked at him with a blank expression and then nodded to the chair on his right side. Harry tried for a smile that must not have looked right because the King’s features tightened for a moment before he simply looked away. After a few minutes waiting in tense silence, Harry’s aunt and uncle arrived with their son in tow. 

They entered noisily with Petunia’s shrill voice crying, “Good Morning, Your Majesty! I apologize for our lateness, we were held up by one of your servants.” Vernon’s angry griping that “If that boy knew his place we’d have no issue.”, and Dudley’s whining about how terribly hungry he was. 

Vernon sat at the end of the table opposing the King which must not have been custom because when he did so, the King tensed and glared. Petunia took her place at her husband's side and carried on saying, “Oh yes he was a horrid young man. You should look into how your servants are being treated, Your Majesty. It is clearly not with a firm enough hand.”  The King’s expression turned even harsher at the insult and opened his mouth to respond but he was interrupted.

“Mum! I’m starving, are they planning to feed us?” Dudley complained. 

“Oh Duddikins! Where is the food, sire? Surely your cooks know when to serve breakfast.” 

“They do.” The King responded, face pink with the effort of resisting his clear anger. “I’m afraid they were waiting until you arrived to serve us.” As the King said this, servants whisked in, placing plates of fruit, bread, and meat in front of them. Dudley immediately began stuffing his face making loud chewing noises. Harry saw the King make a face before becoming expressionless again. 

Starting on his breakfast, Harry simply let the annoying conversation wash over him. choosing not to participate. 

“You have so many lovely fruits, sire.” Petunia said brightly. Too bright.

The King replies, “Yes, my recent alliance with Hufflepuff has brought plentiful amounts of fruits to my kingdom.” 

“Oh yes.” Vernon said gruffly. “I heard you allied with those cowards.” 

The King gripped his knife. “Yes, I did ally with them. It has been very beneficial.”

--

“Why do you hide away in your own castle?”

“I like to have some things to myself, without my guards watching.”

“What kinds of things?” He sat beside Draco.

Draco gestured to the novel he was reading. “This. The romanticism and darkness.” Then he took Harry’s wrist and traced his veins. He looked up at Harry’s lips then brushed along the bottom lip. “And this.”

--

The smell from the gardens was strong from the rain permeating every crevice. Their hair was soaked and their clothes were bedraggled. When Draco laughed Harry thought it the most gorgeous thing he had ever heard. Like fresh rain after a drought. He slid one hand around Draco’s neck and pulled his body into Harry’s. They breathed together and smiled. Draco rested his forehead on Harry’s.

“Thank you.” Harry murmured and Draco smiled.

--

I wrote this almost 3 years ago now and forgot about it and it's 1 am and I have things to do in the morning, but I found it and was reading it and was like... damn okay. So I thought I'd post it here. It was inspired by this prompt from @writing-prompt-s:

The minister pointed his finger at the queen. “The poison in your wine could only have come from her, your majesty! The queen is trying to kill you!” “No,” said the king. “If my wife wished to kill me she would look me in the eye and push a dagger into my chest.”

I also think there were other royalty and arranged marriage AUs in my head when I wrote it so if there's any similarities that's on me. I also think I had been watching Lord of the Rings so there might be some of that in there. Hope you like it!

I wouldn't say I'm back but you might hear from me again sooner than later.

[rin-hanarin]

What if both of us grew up terrified of emotional attachment because we were taught that it's a weakness… and we were both assassins? 😳

[julijbee]

so i finished the dlc.