I'll be traveling for work for the next two weeks. Although I'm always busy, I try to relax at least an hour each night by doing something other than work as well as use outside work hours plane/airport time to write. With that being said, I should hopefully finish up the final chapter of Wild Hunt during thacrt time.
As promised, I wanted to have a poll to see what to write next!
If anyone has any additional ideas, don't hesitate to comment, ask, or message me. :)
Most Dangerous Things to Love: I already gave a rough outline of this fic in this ask.
Bait and Snare: This is part of the Wild Hunt universe and will act (for now) as a direct sequel. No spoilers for the end of Wild Hunt, so I'll just say Jolyon helps Crow seek revenge. :D
Post Final Shape Crowlyon: No spoilers for those who have not finished The Final Shape campaign but this fic would focus on the aftermath of it, specifically with Crow and Jolyon.
Intimate Fluff Fic: Would probably be the first of many intimate fluffs as Crow and Jolyon navigate their newfound relationship. Lots of trauma processing for our boy, Crow!
18 notes
·
View notes
So I decided to give my interpretation of Jolyon Till a bit of a soft redesign. Design notes ahoy!
Inverted triangle symbol to somewhat add a connection to Uldren Sov
Other markings were partially lifted from the preliminary sketch and had TotK Rauru on the mind as I gave him different facial markings
Green eyes 'cause they're pretty, and to be a parallel to Faolan (wink wink nudge nudge, future art video projects ahead)
Added a cape 'cause capes are cool, and a bond that looks like it could belong to a Warlock
Said "bond" has a familiar symbol and a symbol of a flying crow.
Just generally wanted to add contrast to his outfit's colors to make the tones pop out.
also be sure to check out notes for important boundary stuff pls
13 notes
·
View notes
WIP Wednesday - Wild Hunt: Chapter 7 Preview
Takes place immediately after Chapter 6! @subtlybrilliant and @everythingididididforher, enjoy!
He was in the Garden. He knew because of the way his senses were being assaulted.
The air tasted sour but stunk of rotten fruit, pungent with the smell of decay. He could feel the humidity on his skin, seeping between layers of armor to cover him with a sticky feeling he’d be scrubbing off for months to come. His eyes and throat burned from the spores and the pollen that was kicked up in his wake. All around him was the sound of rain pounding.
And of Uldren calling his name.
“Jolyon! This way!”
“Uldren!” Jolyon cleared his throat against the spores and humidity, his vocal cords rusty around his name. “Wait up!”
The prince waded through waist high reeds, his hair stuck to his face, the hood of his cloak long ago soaked through. Jolyon could almost make out the sound of mud sucking at Uldren’s boots as the prince marched forward.
Jolyon ran, but could not catch up.
He fell multiple times, splashing in mud and disrupting the reeds, glittering metallic spores spawning in response. His boots were soaked, his hands caked in soil that glistened like circuit boards. On some distant level he knew he was cold, but the need to reach Uldren outweighed his discomfort.
Uldren turned and stopped. Even in the pouring rain, he took the time to prop his fists on his hips.
“Never knew you were so slow!” Uldren called, though Jolyon did not remember his lips moving. It was like his words were projected straight into Jolyon’s head.
Jolyon growled, Uldren’s petulance spurring him forward faster.
And then he was next to Uldren, bent double with his hands on his knees as he heaved in air that burned his throat.
“Slow poke,” Uldren teased and Jolyon could not help but smile. “And still too late.”
Jolyon looked up and met Uldren’s sad smile. He did not notice the vines until they were past Uldren’s waist.
“It’s okay,” Uldren soothed as Jolyon started to pull frantically at the vines without success, the rain and the smooth surface causing them to slip between his hands. With a curse he pulled the knife from his thigh holster.
“Jolyon,” Uldren said softly as Jolyon slashed at the vines only to have them split and grow at twice the rate. They already encircled his chest and were quickly climbing to his shoulders.
No matter what Jolyon did, he could not keep up.
“Jolyon.” Uldren’s hands found Jolyon’s and stilled them.
Jolyon stopped, his chest heaving with the knife loose in his hand. As he stared at Uldren’s face, at his beautiful golden eyes, he saw vines creep up Uldren’s neck in his periphery.
Uldren brought his hands up to either side of Jolyon’s face and cupped it gently.
“Jolyon.” Crow rubbed his thumbs over Jolyon’s cheekbones. “It’s time to let go.”
Jolyon tilted his head in question, and then it hit him.
“Uldren, no-!”
But it was too late. Uldren was pushing him away, and he was falling backwards.
Everything happened in slow motion. The vines enclosing around Uldren’s throat, his mouth, his eyes. Jolyon falling, his arms flailing, his knife flinging out of his grip to land in the reeds, lost to time. He was helpless as Uldren was overtaken, over-run, consumed by the Garden.
Jolyon landed on his back in the reeds, the air knocking out of his lungs. He wheezed as his body sunk into the mud. He felt himself sink lower as though the Garden was trying to absorb him. He stared blankly up at the blue-green sky, unwilling to look at what Uldren had become.
The rain had stopped, at least.
Then he felt the vines start to creep up his legs. And his arms.
He did not struggle. Instead, he closed his eyes.
And he let go.
16 notes
·
View notes