WIP Wednesday
So I haven't managed anything of what I've been intending to work on this week for progress at this point of the story(aka we aren't finishing the scene today...). Or more correctly I've only got a a small, small bit of what I want done on it.
Instead I'm posting the first section of a prequel bit that took most of my focus this week....
Futaba's Lost and Found Services
11/21/20XX
Futaba knew the longer she kept tapped into the phone the more likely she was to get caught in the metaphorical cookie jar. She pretty much had what she wanted almost from the start of the call. A name and a confirmation of actions taken. But something about Akechi’s tone… He sounded a bit hollow. Something, something, curiosity and cats, and between her and Morgana in her lap they probably had a full cat’s curiosity.
It was nice to hear that Akechi had no plans to immediately act against the rest of the team, even if he said nothing positive to say about them himself. A little surprising to be compared to cattle instead of sheep since how much more aggressive cows are. Generally a bit of surprise how little he was planning on going after them, as it may take months for them to be off lips enough to start targeting the teens visibly attached to the team. Him keeping an eye on them would likely be one of the most dangerous parts from now on but if he is being this loose Futaba was way less concerned.
Deaths were interesting to think about in an abstract way. Her and maybe Ryuji, would need to be the most cautious as they were not as public of figures. Her and Sojiro would likely be framed as a murder-suicide. Makoto would be difficult to justify until at least the next school year but pretty neutral after that. Yusuke was probably the easiest of their famous group, if he could frame it as a suicide, being a literal starving artist at times. Haru would have to wait one of the longest, as she is the largest shareholder of a major corporation that had her father die just last month. That was just last month.
Akira’s death… wait. And the SIU director? Isn’t that too close? And why does that seem like the most amusement he’s had in all the conversation? He’s acting completely differently on these two deaths of targets.
The SUI director from everything they could gather was likely in the know of the conspiracy. In fact the group couldn’t figure out a way he wasn’t like Kaboyakawa. So Akechi got to kill another member of the conspiracy and was happy about it. But he doesn’t seem nearly as happy to have done so to Akira. He shows some emotions about his targets still.
Akechi finished his call with Shido. She should be disconnecting but she felt an urge to listen a little more. See if he gets out of the building as smoothly as he hopes and that Akira isn’t caught in the first few minutes.
Futaba heard a few bangs from Akechi’s line as she set up all the preestablished audio on Akira’s cell phone for Niijima-san. In any other environment than the quiet hall she likely wouldn’t have heard Akechi’s whispered, “Why? Why?” There was one last, harsher than the others bangs but still soft enough to barely be heard. Even quieter, “No, not here. Can't break down here.”
She disconnected the tap but had it prepped to check on him again in a few hours. Now she needed to keep a monitor on Sae and Akira’s progress out of the facility.
When Futaba checked in on Akechi’s phone again, his location was listed as what she assumed was his apartment from previous assessments. One of the news reports about Akira’s capture played in the background.
“Why couldn’t you figure out another way? How didn’t you find another way out? Why did it have to be you?” So many other what ifs and questions crossed his lips before the news broke with the suicide.
With that news a slam and a curse quickly followed. Watery breathing, as if holding in the crying, was all that could be heard in the quiet transition from the news to jazz. She let the recording go for a few more seconds before closing and unwinding her bug for now.
The cat looked up to the hacker, starting, “Ora-”
Futaba quickly interrupted, “Don’t bring this up to Akira.”
“Huh? Why?”
Futaba stared at the audio files she’s recorded today. “If Akira ever crosses paths with Akechi again knowing he was, uh, upset? Might just mean Akechi succeeds on a second try.” She ended up dragging several out into another folder. Just in case.
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“Dank farrik!” Din shouts. “There’s a karking rancor in there!”
Boba is grinning like a kid. “Yes! And I haven’t named him yet. He imprinted on me. I spend so much time down here, you have no idea.”
The Return of the Mandalorian to the Book of Boba Fett by TranquilizedDropBear
If you ever thought "I love Boba Fett, I'd love to see him in his own damn show sometime" in regards to Ep 5 of TBOBF can I maybe very enthusiastically recommend you the above linked fic? Because it's lived rent free in my brain for months now and I've thought about it so much that as far as I'm concerned Boba was the one to fill in Din on the background lore about the fall of Mandalore and whatnot. Because we can all use a pair of maybe-Mandalorians bonding sitting on top of a rancor in our lives, no?
Also I had been dying to make this drawing for months now for @bobadinweek's AU bingo for my Canon Divergence slot.
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It's gonna be a fuckin while before I have any art or writting that's publishable, but if I don't share this AU sooner or later I will explode, so we're going to avoid that for now.
Lunar Eclipse AU
My answer to the question "what if the dream and nightmare realms never split?" which isn't entirely accurate because they still do split eventually, just way after we can safely assume they did in canon, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
(I'm putting the rest under the cut for your convenience)
So, does the dream and nightmare realms staying together longer mean that Grimm and the Radiance had a more functional relationship as siblings? Funny you should ask that, because hahaha, absolutely not!
The Radiance is incredibly abusive towards Grimm, treating him as a tool rather than as his own god with his own life. This backfires horribly, because her practically raising him surrounded on all sides by lies and manipulation only made him really good at lying and manipulating. That was the only reason he managed to create the troupe without drawing her suspicion that maybe the group of "puppets" he has aren't under as much strict control as she thinks they are("worship? meaningful connection? no, that's ridiculous"/s)
The main story of the AU revolves around Grimm's interactions with the Pale King. The Radiance orders Grimm to kill him and at first he's up for it, viewing it as an opportunity to prove his loyalty and to avoid getting on her bad side should be succeed. His plan is to earn the King's trust, get him alone, and then strike; his plan is to make him suffer all while stirring up trouble behind the scenes to secure her worship and drive the wyrm to desperation.
But...as he's spending time with the wyrm, he starts getting this odd feeling in his chest and throat. When his soon-to-be victim first drops the formalities and speaks to him as an equal, when he thanks Grimm for rescuing him from a (staged) assassination attempt, and when he kisses him on the cheek and Grimm reacts just how you might expect. He's able to explain these moments away to his sister by telling her he was acting as though he felt genuine connection and that he couldn't possibly be dumb enough to fall in love with the man he was told to kill...right?
And when the moment finally arrives, when the two of them are alone together and the wyrm has made himself more vulnerable than he ever had been before...
...Grimm hesitates.
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i have acquired a mystical and powerful ointment (hydrocortisone cream) from the village herbalist (rite aid) to assist with the curse set upon my bloodline from many generations ago (eczema)
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Also this week i gotta figure out what the hell you wear to a christening (and figure out how masc i can go without causing chaos)
(I'm not against causing chaos i just think maybe my cousin might appreciate me causing chaos some other time than at her baby's christening)
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👀 (any dndads au you feel like sharing, lovebird! hope you're having a wonderful day btw 💜💜💜)
Hehehehe HIII HAPPI <3 I am having a wonderful day tysm!! :D I hope you are too <3
I'm trying to think abt if I have any aus that you don't already know about BWCEUAHAHAAH and im not sure how much you know abt the most recent one I've made
OOOH I have got this one fantasy AU I haven't touched in a while but I think would be really fun to revisit sometime! <3
The idea is that there's this ancient curse that's been unleashed on the land creating this magic rot that's slowly been devouring forests, towns, and eventually maybe even whole kingdoms! The rot can overtake animals and people, warping them into dangerous mirrors of their past self, this AU's take on doodlerization. the sauce if you will <3
Taylor is a member of the royal court of the Kingdom of Hell (son of the first prince Nick) and Link is his loyal guard and bestie who keeps him from dying in their shenanigans and escapades. They have a silly goofy, I've known you my whole life and I will die to protect you bc you're the person dearest to me also ur a dumbass who's stupid as fuck, energy going on <3 friends to dumbasses to lovers <3
Normal is a regular villager who recently happened to score an apprenticeship with the castle healer! Apparently his dad knew someone in the court and managed to pull some strings, wonder what that's all about. (spoiler alert: its pretty important and he's also secretly royalty but doesn't know it)
Scary is an amateur witch <3 She saw her mom start dating the castle wizard and was like FUCK THAT GUY AND HIS STUFFY BOOKS. BET I COULD DO THAT BUT BETTER AND COOLER AND LESS NERDY. So she's been sneaking off to practice magic with rudimentary materials and a few nicked things Terry left around their cottage.
Turns out Scary has a natural talent for certain parts of magic because she accidentally stumbles upon a prophecy outlining the world's possible end unless a certain group of people go to the ruins of a lost kingdom to stop the rot. And when she finds out who those people are she's like FUUUUUCK. bc now she's gotta find a way to sneak into the castle to somehow find these losers, one of which is apparently a PRINCE !! and then they've all gotta go out and not die on an adventure or else EVERYONE'S gonna die. and like she can't be bothered but also ig it would be kind of cool to shove it in her stepdad's face that she's more awesome than him and saved the world so. off she goes!
Hermie's the second prince who is often overshadowed by his older half brother. He happens to overhear the group talk about the prophecy around the time they're preparing to leave and tags along to prove his worth to his dads and also have people pay attention for him for once goddamn !!!!! also the healer boy is kinda cute <3
Cue super fun goofy and exciting magical fantasy quest !!! Secrets are revealed! Bonds are formed! Possible corruption? MAYHAPS! Also where even ARE the ruins of the kingdom of Oakvale no one seems to have heard of it at all! All while the rot continues to spread....
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I got absolutely zero crafting done today because I was busy trying not to panic about being under a tornado watch (it's over with no tornadoes, all good now), playing Stardew Valley, and getting sidetracked by discussions about human teeth plushies here on tumblr, but crafting updates should hopefully resume tomorrow!
I do have a baby blanket almost done I'll probably be able to finish tomorrow, I just haven't taken any progress pictures
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37 hours till my surgery starts
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harry wanted to be a poet and kim's got a skill that is likened to the process of writing poetry. i am going to go rattle my bones off into the ocean.
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yall wish me luck in convincing my parents to assist me in getting a different car bc im going to need it. very bad.
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Cornel West is slightly batshit but I have read a couple of his books and his stated policy goals seem by and large good. Not sure why he's not really seen as a viable candidate by the leftists on here compared to de la Cruz, but then again he's probably changed since the books he published in the 90s. Maybe it's just the Christian stuff, but it doesn't seem to actually be a visible part of his campaign from what I can tell. Can't tell if people think he's too Marxist or not Marxist enough
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Woke up feeling like crap so I am ditching uni. Eventhough both courses today are cool.
So now I'm getting ready to go on a mission to find pants that fit me (challenging) in a cut I like (extra challenging) that are not jeans (getting real hard) made of a fabric that isn't gonna rip the first time I move (getting impossible) that are not fucking beige (lol get fucked). ...
All the while resisting the urge to buy a speedweve mending loom and a bazillion colors of thread. Not even to fix pants, nah, to add patches to my project sweater or some of my bags.
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made SO much progress on my script so far today :^) almost done with what i think will be the most finicky film of my analysis section which is such a relief
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
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