One could say Galadriel surrendered herself tactically.

seen from T1
seen from Spain

seen from Jordan

seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from Iraq
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Venezuela
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
One could say Galadriel surrendered herself tactically.
The second copy of Tactical Surrender by destinies. I retypeset this during my Christmas vacation in Tahoe, making this the only book (currently) to have the “Typeset and Handbound in California/Nevada” in the colophon :P
Are we ever gonna find out who Rey was kissing when Ben looked into her mind? 👀
This is an old, old ask, but since today is the day we’re answering questions... Kaydel kissed her after the supernova party. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but Rey didn’t get a lot out of it either!
from @destinieswritten Tactics series
a practice in simple color and lines and vague smut.
@destinieswritten
mood board for Tactical Alliance, written by destinies
(sequel to my all time favorite fic, Tactical Surrender!)
“What’s happening now isn’t about you. It’s about the war. It’s not personal.”
“It was with you, though,” Rey murmurs.
“Yes,” Kylo agrees. “With me it was always personal.”
Wanted. It’s a slap in the face. [x]
Tactical surrender, ch. 22 by lovely @destinieswritten.
TACTICAL SURRENDER
Chapter 18-19 by @destinieswritten
-
Self-imposed prompt - or payment for a sand joke.
-
Inktober day 1 - POISONOUS My first drawing for this year Inktober was inspired by @destinieswritten Tactical Surrender ch10, one of my favorite Reylo fanfic ever!
“And then the poison — what must be poison — kicks in, acts fast. Rey feels it first in her calf muscles as numbness, weakness, which quickly travels up her body until it’s impossible for her to keep upright in her chair. She folds over herself, falls onto her side on the floor, and then there’s a tightness in her chest and she thinks no, no. She starts taking quick, noisy, panicked shallow breaths, her mouth open, not unlike a fish stranded on the shore, or more hopelessly in the middle of a desert, baking alive under the sun. Her arms are about as effective as fins on land. She can’t move herself and can’t speak for breathing, but breathing isn’t working either. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t breathe.”