#winter's wips

[wintrwinchestr]

wip wednesday

thank you for tagging me @joelsdagger :) anyone who sees this jump in if you wanna!!

heyyy... how y'all doin...

i've been jumping back into the strangers cinematic universe recently to work on something a little different.

has anyone else ever wondered... who was joel's first girl? how did he become the thing that he is? what was his life like before he met babydoll?

i thought it would be fun and interesting to try and answer some of these questions :) here's a little snippet of a strangers oneshot i'm working on called suffer does the wolf

One could argue that nature is solely to blame for Joel Miller having become the creature that he is, that he was just born with a black spot on his soul and that his future was already predetermined before he had even uttered his first word or formed his first coherent thought. That some boys just grow up to become men who kill girls, and there isn’t anything that anyone can do to prevent it. One could argue that, and they’d make a very compelling case. But the one for nurture would probably end up winning out in the end, if you were really to take a look at Joel’s 50-something years’ worth of damage and trauma and violence all laid out before you.

Joel had known these things from an early age, having grown up in a house with holes in the drywall created by his father’s fists, the same ones that would leave his mother battered and bruised and crying with no one to turn to or lean on, except for her own young son. Back then, women had no choice but to stay married to monsters like that, forced to rely on men who hurt them in order to keep places within society and roofs over their heads and money in bank accounts that didn’t even have their own names on it. What a cruel fucking existence.

Joel was glad when his little brother eventually came along, if only so that he wouldn’t be alone anymore in the dark of his bedroom while he hid from the boogeyman that was his own father. Joel would often stay up for hours with baby Tommy, knowing that he himself was still too small to be able to defend him should the boogeyman come barging into their bedroom, but at least someone was looking out for him. Protecting him. And that’s what Joel is, at his core, or at least what he believes himself to be. A protector. A caregiver. A provider. As backwards as it may seem, considering the amount of blood on his hands.

[mooreaux]

Winterstar brain worms are alive and well in this WIP

[saucefunk]

i’ll murder that boulder punching asshole, but you’re first.

[screwpinecaprice]

Of course they'd be jumpin on a pile of leaves, it's basically mandatory.

[kenchann]

yuu + grim + fellow etc doodles

[4525yaoi]

lovely couple

[magentasnail]

wip of sleeping animals for class !

(the task is to draw 4 animals with a common theme and I picked hibernation)

[deathbyapples]

This link up would cause the corniest jokes known to man.

Don’t ask how this timeline would work. Idk.

Ethan Winters you will anyways be my favorite

[shrugsinchinese]

Silly comic I started LAST winter that’s pretty ooc now cause of the new episodes haha

I just wanted to play with silly dnd fashion so here u go

[tubbiecustard]

so guys

[wintrwinchestr]

wip wednesday

heyyy, how yall doin… i’ve been working on something that im excited about and excited to share when im done :) it’s going to be another 2 part mini series, i plan on finishing both parts at once but posting them separately, maybe a week apart at the most. we’re looking at probably around 12k-15k for both parts together. despite what you read below, this will be a very dark joel!! i will be sure to tag both parts boldly and appropriately.

here’s a hefty snippet of our intro to this joel:

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here.

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit.

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

“It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants anything more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat.

[xnodivinity]

woah wip

[shadypeachrunaway]

[pagan-stitches]

WIP

[orang3marmal4d3]

sansa wip

[marionette-j2x]

The Perfect Shade... ☀️

'cause you know he's a tree and- //gets slapped-