#wtgdlb

Okay this is definitely cheating but here's what comes up for "hands" if I control f in all my wips:

Beside him sits Sokka’s broken picture frame. In it, a slightly dog-eared picture of a quaint little family, who’s faces smile out at Zuko warmly. It takes him a moment, but Zuko recognizes little Sokka and Katara, and even their dad, looking a little less grey and a lot less tired, and just as handsome. The woman, he realizes, must be their mom. Her smile is the brightest, her brown eyes warm and welcoming. He can almost feel what it might be like, to sink into a hug like the one memorialized in Sokka’s precious family portrait.

Zuko can feel his heart break, a little.

Zuko raised his hand to throw it through the window over the alter, but Sokka caught his wrist before he could.

 “Not that one.”

 “Why not?”

 Sokka paused. Zuko thought perhaps he needed to consider whether revealing his reasons would be wise, or worthwhile. Or maybe he was just trying to think of one.

 But Sokka didn’t seem interested in any kind of deep introspection just then.

 The way he was looking at Zuko – his eyes dark, pricked with points of light reflecting the brilliance of the round rose window, half his face washed in radiant colour, the other shadow, cast especially deep below the pout of his lips, the crease of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone – was a different kind of hunger than he had seen in Sokka before.

Chapter 8 now posted!

Summary:

It's been 13 years since the end of the world began. It's been 2 since its total collapse. How much longer can its survivors hold out? And how can they hope to save themselves?

Chapter 6 up now!

Summary:

It's been 13 years since the end of the world began. It's been 2 since its total collapse. How much longer can its survivors hold out? And how can they hope to save themselves?

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

I think I’m the most proud of Firelight and Cascade. My first fics, the odd choice of second person pov, and they still hold up pretty well even after almost three years since I started them, although if I ever finish What The Good Days Left Behind I’m sure it’ll be that.

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

I do have a zukka-themed playlist to listen to, but I got kind of tired of a lot of it. I also have a wtgdlb playlist for writing that, but in general I usually just shuffle my music or put on some Josh Ritter.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

Can’t have one without the other, it’s just not as satisfying.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

So bewitched was he by the delicate wisps of lichen hanging from branches just beyond his reach, and the lace-like forms of those which clung to the bark of the trees, thinking they had wandered into a fairy-tale somewhere along the way, that he almost failed to notice the babbling of the stream Sokka had led them to until he was nearly standing in it. The gentle white noise it made as it rolled the stones at its bed along, clacking them together, smoothing out their rough edges, could stand in easily for static on an old film real, and did little to convince him he wasn’t on one himself, drifting between its little translucent panes.