#None of this is very coherent I just saved this ask for a while and dumped some thoughts in

[tswwwit]

What are some ideas you have floating around that you don't have any plans on writing but like to entertain as a thought?

Many of them, in fact! Though they sort of vanish from my memory if I don't make a record of them, here's a few ones I jotted down when they came to mind.

For a domestic one: Bill thought he'd hate a lot of being married! Even though he loves Dipper, he thought he'd rebel against the chains of domesticity - and in some ways he still does - but one major benefit he's found is not having to be 'on' all the time.

No need to be perfectly performing all the time! No shoving around for social influence, no intimidation, or clever tricks. No commanding attention or taking up the room. Hell, there's surprisingly little upkeep! Bill can undo his tie and pick his nose and bitch about his day to someone who isn't bending over backwards to agree with him on everything. Someone who doesn't give him a weird look and sneer if he, god forbid, actually wants to sit down, read a book, drop the grin for an hour or two.

The concept in question is Bill's very first moment of great surprise. That when he isn't being the most charming, terrifying, and exciting guy in the universe, and just chilling out for like, five minutes, Dipper comes over and snuggles up to him on the couch, or wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. And when Bill asks 'what was that for?', Dipper shrugs and goes 'eh, just felt like it'. It's both baffling and extremely compelling.

A short where Reincarnated Dip is Definitely Sure he's Not Gay!!! Especially not for this Hot Demon Man who is getting so close and touchy with him with his big smile and horrible wiles. Yep. Just keeping an eye on him to make sure he's not up to something Nefarious ™.

A discussion between Dipper and Bill where Dipper insists that Bill should understand this, or not do that, because, like. Y'know, Bill's a guy! There are guy things! Making Bill stare at Dipper like he's an idiot. He proceeds to informs Dipper how that's stupid for multiple reasons! First, that Bill's Not Human to begin with, his gender can't be put into a little box! And frankly, he never filled out the paperwork for his original one, come to think of it. Sure, he/him's fine, but c'mon, sapling, thinking of the whole shebang like a binary is dumb as hell. Now Dipper has to do some mental readjustment re: his own issues with masculinity/gender.

#answers #None of this is very coherent I just saved this ask for a while and dumped some thoughts in #Though I do have like a whole scene in my head for the gender one #Probably it's Bill cajoling Dipper into wearing a dress for something. Which Dipper obviously rebels against. #Bill's very convincing but Dipper shoots back well. He's never seen *Bill* wear a dress. Thinking he's making a point #But Bill just gets the metaphorical equivalent of a lightbulb over his head. Hey! Good point kid it's been a while #Oh ho!!! I see! Pinching Dipper's cheek - you want us to *match!* Surprised to see any fashion sense outta you #Hold on a sec. Bill will whip up something in a jiffy. A real nice one #Now Dipper's spluttering. He thought it was a good counterargument but Bill didn't even *flinch* at the idea of wearing one himself #But like. C'mon Bill Guys Don't Wear Dresses!! You're a guy you shouldn't- #Bill stares at him like he's an idiot. DIpper shuts up. Dumb move actually now that he's thinking about it #Both because telling Bill he *shouldn't* do something absolutely means he's looking into doing it. If not already in the process #And second. Uh. Oh hell. Dipper remembers. That Bill's only wearing that body. Not human. Triangular so - Wait. Is he *not* a guy?? Uh. #Bill's perfectly fine with his human body and his pronouns. Even with the presumptions that his husband has made over the years #But Dipper having this idea that those mean Bill should STOP doing certain things annoys him a lot #Bill politely - for him anyway - reminds Dipper that he's very much *not* a guy. None of that crap applies! #As Dipper has seen! And hey the ideas Dipper's working with there are outdated even among *humans* what the hell #There's probably a mini-rant that's rather scathing but frankly that's Bill on easy mode for his husband #Dipper's well-intentioned and knows how things go but he struggles with masculinity especially regarding himself #Turns out being bullied and trying so hard to be Socially Acceptable means a lot of issues to unpack #Also re: the Domestic one #Dipper is present with Bill while he chills out for those five minutes. Just watching from across the room #Bill knows he's there. But he's not puffing up trying to be impressive. Not being dismissive. Just accepting. And now Dipper's *fascinated* #It's so rare to see Bill NOT 'on' that he couldn't help it. No big show. No big grin. Almost.... not 'vulnerable' he's terrifying always #But so so relatable. God does Dipper know the feeling of just wanting to find some peace and quiet after a hectic day. But for Bill. That's #Rare and strange and so - Dipper *knows* he's the Only Person who could ever ever see this. Being in Bill's presence for a full ten minutes #Without Bill flipping some internal switch to 'Impress or Intimidate'. This is Dipper's own little secret to watch and absorb and treasure #And. In a way. When Bill's not vibrating with potential energy for parties or violence he's even MORE handsome #He just HAS to kiss him. A little bit. On the cheek or on the top of the head. Maybe curl up next to him where it's warm and touch his ches #Bill spends hours afterward wondering where the hell that came from and WHY. And it'll take him *so much* time to figure it out

[cardinal-crossing]

More Polar Express doodles! I've left some notes under the cut if you would like to read, it's mostly notes about the story of the Polar Express and how these two fit in, but nothing extensive. (Probably for the best, I don't think it would be coherent if I went any further.)

ALSO POLAR EXPRESS SPOILERS BELOW!!

All right, I have some thoughts about this movie. I enjoyed watching it for the first time and got so excited that I watched the film again. While watching, I immediately picked out characters to put the subway twins as because I am so normal, and here is a little explanation. To start, in my head, all the characters that run the train are spirits or ghosts, much like how the Hobo is portrayed. While the other characters are not as prominent, there are a few hints here and there that point to such. For example, in the Glaciar Glutch scene, the conductor doesn't wrap the safety belt around himself; he only wraps it around the two kids. That at least points to the fact that he may be a spirit, as he doesn't have as much care for his person. Furthermore, he is on a magic train and has been doing it for years; he's a spirit. I'm sorry, but he is. So I chose Ingo as the conductor because, in the movie, the conductor rarely smiles; he also cares a lot about the kids, as shown by his body language. Also, in my mind, the conductor was very hard to read, but that may also be caused by the fact that the expressions were very realistic in this movie (I suspect motion capture), and I have a hard time reading facial expressions. Now, Emmet is the funnier one. I chose Emmet as the Hobo because of my personal headcanon that Emmet has the crazy uncle energy rather than the more fatherly energy. The Hobo within the movie also smiles a lot, almost constantly, and is just generally chaotic. Instead of outwardly telling the kids what to do and what not to do, he instead scares the crap out of them to teach them a lesson and further their adventure throughout the movie. He also only chooses to help in the most dire of times and in the most ridiculous way possible; think of skiing on the top of the train and tapping the emergency brake on the caboose. He makes a pun instead of just telling the main character that there is a brake, and then he poofs back out of existence. Also, the conductor clearly knows that the Hobo exists, as he alludes to it in the movie when the main character asks what the man who saved the conductor looked like. The conductor only responded, "Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things we can't see." That has been my ramble, and I apologize if none of this made sense; I've been up since four this morning running off of straight caffeine, and I've been all over the place.

#submas #cardinals art #submas au #submas aggie #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #tw eye contact #im so normal about this movie #you have no idea #CHOOOO CHOOOOO

[finalgilmoregirl]

thanks for all the love on my last two posts, here’s an idea i thought of the other day that i actually was able to fully flesh out

☆ a growing relationship between fnaf movie!mike x fem!mall worker!reader would include :

- pre fnaf movie events

a/n : i made this in head cannon form to save time but i might make a blurb series. ALSO IMPORTANT : i try to make the reader in my fics as physically non descriptive as possible which means i try to stay away from words like “tall, short, pale, thin” etc… if there is ever an explicit description, it’ll be in the title (like how i put “fem!” or “latina”) okay that being said, enjoy!

- movie takes place in 2000s so naturally reader would work in retail whilst in college (movie!mike is thought to be in his mid-20s so i’m also making reader around that age)

- i think the first interaction between the two would be at her place of work, on a particular slow morning

- he’s only had his security job at the mall for about a week, and his employers had him bouncing around different stores, trying to find his place in the building

- which is how he ended up standing at the front your store at 10am

- he’d spoken to the assistant manager for a moment right before opening but it wasn’t until almost an hour into his shift that he’d noticed you

- he’d just failed to stifle his tenth yawn in the last few minutes when he heard your voice, snapping his brain into high alert

- “excuse me?”

- he turned his head in your direction and widened his eyes a bit before trying to relax

- you were talking to him, and you were beautiful

- “uhm, yeah?” he replied, instantly cursing himself in his mind for not replying more politely

- you obviously didn’t mind his response as you smiled sweetly, reaching an arm out, which is what made mike take notice of the to-go cup in your hand

- “sorry, i just thought you could use this.”

- oh! this surprised the man, and you took notice of the look on his face.

- to be fair this was weird, at least a little bit. you’d never given the other security guards coffee. you were always polite to them of course, but you never went out of your way to try to make an impression ike this.

- but then again, none of the other security guards were this cute

- and you thought mike was very cute

- “i know, it’s a bit weird but i was over there stacking clothes and couldn’t help but notice how tired you seemed.” you pointed to where you were just a moment ago, before you’d gone to the back room to get mike his drink

- mike looked to the area you pointed out, taking notice of the pile of clothes you’d seemed to be in the process of organizing

- mike wanted to hit himself. he was so caught up in his own head and trying to force himself awake that he didn’t even notice that you had been a mere ten feet away this entire time.

- he then looked back at you and realized he hadn’t make a single coherent reply to anything you’d said so far

- he shook his head out of his thoughts and gave you a small smile

- “no no that’s not weird” he said, taking the coffee out of your hands and trying to ignore how soft they felt as his fingertips brushed against them, “that’s really nice of you, thank you.”

- you shrugged, playing with your now free hands while trying to ignore how your heartbeat had started to quicken

- “it’s no big deal, i just thought it’d be best if you were awake in case anyone tried to rob us” you joked, earning a chuckle from mike.

- “i’m y/n by the way” you held out your hand to him

- “i’m mike” he said as he took it, giving it a light shake and reluctantly letting go

- you looked into each others eyes for a moment, and warmth started to circulate your bodies

- unfortunately, the moment was gone too fast as one of your coworkers called you over, asking for your help in taking down some boxes

- you looked back at mike, who still held the smallest smile

- “i guess i’ll see you around.” you shrugged, walking away

- as the day went by and the store got increasingly busier, you and mike failed to have anymore interactions and soon, he had to leave, saddened by the fact that he couldn’t say goodbye but also hopeful at the thought that he might see you again

- it wasn’t until a week later that he did

- he unfortunately got stationed at a kiosk near the entrance of the mall, however that didn’t stop him from walking by your store on his breaks in hopes to catch another glimpse of you

- he did this for three days until this routine paid off.

- you were working the cash register, conversing with a young girl and her mother as you bagged their clothing

- “have a good one!” you smiled brightly at the pair as they walked out of store, which is when you saw mike approach the entrance

- he walked in shyly, hands in his pockets

- he’s wanted to see you… but what did he even plan to say?

- “hey mike!” you called out to the brunette as he walked in

- he responded with his own “hi” as he walked up to the counter

- “what are you doing here?”

- “you know, just…taking a walk”

- he looked down for a moment, nerves creeping up on him. well, he thought. i might as well take advantage of this moment. i mean, you’re right there.

- with a sudden surge of confidence (and despite the sweat now pooling down the back of his neck) he looked back up and said : “i actually just realized.”

- you looked back at him expectedly

- “i never got to repay you for that coffee.”

- when asked if you’d like to cash in that debt you replied a bit faster than you would like to admit, and a date was set for the same day

- where mike had four more hours to go after his break, you had three. which you thought was more than fine, just more time to prepare for this date

- you would meet at the coffee place across from the food court after both of your shifts

- and when you did, it was like something out of a movie

- mike of course, as guarded as he his, tried his best from dumping any trauma on you and steered clear from anything he thought was too personal in fear of scaring you away. however after picking up bits and piece from your life, he had a feeling you wouldn’t judge him

- despite you basically being a stranger, he felt more relaxed than he had in years, him learning about you was enough to distract him from whatever nightmares plagued him at all hours of the day, just for a little while

- as time went on and you both kept in touch after your first date, mike began to open up a bit more

- after the first few weeks he told you about abby, more so about their situation

- you sympathized with him a bit, offering advice if he needed it and a helping hand if any issues with their current babysitter came up

- your selflessness solidified his thought that this could be something good, which led to your first kiss after your fourth date

- you figured it would take a while, you sensed from the first date that he would be a tough book to crack open, but you really liked him and were more than happy to be patient.

- back to abby :

- as much as he was okay with talking to you about abby, he hadn’t planned to tell abby about you. not knowing how she would react to adding a random woman to possibly be a part of her life after their mother

- this of course became a small issue when she began to notice how much more time he spent on the phone

- phone bill be damned, he would still lean against the kitchen wall, twirling the phone cord around his finger for at least half an hour while he talked to you

- “who is it?” abby asked one late afternoon.

- where she was supposed to be in bed already, she came out to get a glass of water, catching her brother talking in a hushed voice.

- “don’t worry about it” mike would tell her.

- “what are they saying?”

- “abby can you please just go to your room”

- she would very soon find out about your existence when one evening mike put the phone down for a second to go look for a book he wanted to tell you about

- as soon as he walked out of the room, abby jumped from her place on the couch and snuck to the phone

- “hello?” she whispered, cupping her hand over the transmitter

- “hi” you smiled, picturing the young girl that mike had described to you before

- “who is this?” abby asked, almost aggressively, confused as to why her brother has been talking to a woman

- “i’m y/n” you told her, trying to suppress a laugh

- something clicked in the child then

- gasp “are you mikes girlfriend??”

- it was just then that mike had returned, and with a face of anger and horror her snatched the device from abby’s grasp and lightly shoved her away with a light scolding “abby what the hell did i say?”

- you laughed harder at his tone

- “i am so sorry about that. what did she say to you?”

- “oh nothing” you sighed, “she just asked me if i was your girlfriend.”

- he mouthed a god dammit as he looked to the ceiling

- he wasn’t embarrassed that abby had asked, he was embarrassed that he hadn’t asked you yet

- there’s no protocol to dating as an adult. “will you be my girlfriend?” sounds too childish and when that’s out of the question, where do you go from there?

- “well…” mike shut his eyes tightly as he asked, “what did you say?”

- “i didn’t get to answer. what do you think i should have said?” you said, lighthearted but pointedly.

- swallowing the bile he felt creeping up his throat at the nerves he rubbed his hand to his sweater clad chest

- “i mean…” you continued. “do you want me to be?”

- my god yes he desperately thought but tried his best to sound casual “yeah, i’d like that”

- “well then, i suppose i am your girlfriend. maybe i can actually tell her next time”

- he sensed the teasing in your voice and gave a mixed of a chuckle and a sigh at your answer, the weight the nerves left on his chest lifted.

- “next time” he said softly, “sounds good”

☆ might start planning a part two

#kelly : mike thoughts 💭 #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson

[edutainer2022]

UNREQUITED Ch 7.5

Co-written with @janetm74

Ch 7 | Ch 8 | AO3

A piece, concurrent with the ending of Ch 7 (Page Six). A glimpse into Scott's reaction and overall state of mind (aka the lies his heartbreak is telling him). Virgil is being a very supportive brother, but he's out of his depth quite a bit.

(interlude)

*interlude*

Virgil startled, as he didn't expect his brother to speak. Not since he picked him up off the floor of Dad's study, hyperventilating, amidst the shards of the broken whiskey glass and the shattered picture frame of Scott's AirForce graduation photo Dad kept on his desk.

Not since they holed up in one of the Round House guest rooms, while the short notice preparations of the impromptu "wedding party" were afoot.

Virgil quietly debated with John to maybe ask to call it off, but it was Penelope's request. And Gordon was so excited. They wondered if that was also Lady P's sneaky way to arrange a getaway for her friend Kayo and Rigby in a beautiful, romantic setting. That would have been a move right up her alley.

None of that certainly helped improve Scott's mood or made him more forthcoming. Big brother was just not all there since the news announcement and the breakdown in the study.

Virgil wondered if Scott even noticed his brother was an ever present shadow at his side those past two days. Apparently he did.

They saw FAB 1 land on the island, earlier than expected, from the vantage point of the mountain terrace.

Then John's message came through - that the "wedding" was an elaborate GDF undercover op. Scott reacted to that in a way Virgil didn't anticipate - with a laugh that chilled him to the bone. A laugh of a madman.

Virgil was still unsure what to say, once his brother calmed down, but Scott spoke first.

"I can't do this anymore."

Virgil's chest tightened. Virgil shifted to press himself closer to Scott's shoulder and provide support. Whatever his brother needed at the moment. Scott's voice was hoarse.

"I can't feel like this anymore. I can't! I want to stop!"

"Scotty, you're scaring me."

Virgil didn't intend to sound so small and unsure, but the raw pain Scott let him see up close, left the little brother in him rattled. Virgil leaned his chin on Scott's shoulder, an extra anchoring point in the storm.

"I can't feel like I couldn't ever be happy. I want to stop! All of it. Just stop!"

Virgil's vision swam. There was a determination behind the anguish in his brother's voice that got him so scared all the way back in the Arctic blizzard. That was a step before Scott setting a self-destruction course.

Virgil tried again with the softest inflection, usually reserved to shocked rescuees:

"Scotty, it's okay. You deserve all the happiness you ever wish for, I promise!"

It didn't have an intended effect, as big brother snorted bitterly.

"That's just it, Virgie - I DON'T! She was right."

Virgil's educated guess as to the "she" was immediately confirmed.

"She was right. I was Dad's charity case. He probably saw right away I wasn't cut out for GDF, so planned to pull me out anyway. That was even before... That Place."

Virgil shuddered. Any mention of the hell in Bereznik those months were for Scott (and for them all) was a minefield of its own. But Scott wasn't done.

"And after... Dad didn't even trust me to go on Zero-X with him. Didn't trust me to save him! She was right - I'm a waste of AirForce training and Dad's hopes!"

Scott was sobbing more than talking coherently at that point, so Virgil concentrated on clutching him for dear life, as if scared the brother would fracture into pieces if he let go. His own tears were soaked in by the denim shirt.

John's notice he was coming up remained unread.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #pairing: scott/kayo #virgil tracy #virgil tracy needs a hug #scott tracy/original character #that didn't work #earth and sky #bereznik headcanons #scott tracy needs his dad #thunderbirds 2015 #my fic #janetm74

[jinxedruby]

Febuwhump Day Seventeen: Hostage Situation

Featuring Time, Warriors, and Wind. This is the conclusion to Wind getting kidnapped (day four: obedience and day thirteen: you weren't supposed to get hurt).

Well, this sure is long. Fun fact: I wrote this by hand and wrote so hard that my fingers were tingling by the time I finished haha

Heads up for some graphic injury and several minor character deaths (they're all bad guys and none are very graphic).

AO3

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

-------------------------------

Time stood beside Warriors, staring out at the river beyond the harbor. Water lapped at the numerous boats and ships moored at the docks, the fresh smell of the river filling Time’s nose. Sky stepped up beside him, peering out toward where the river stretched nearly to the horizon, only the slightest strip of land visible on the other side.

“Wow,” he said quietly. “Are we sure this isn’t an ocean?”

“Doesn’t smell like it,” Legend replied from where everyone else stood behind Time and the others.

“I didn’t know rivers could get this big,” Hyrule murmured.

“Which is why we need to find the sailor as soon as possible,” Warriors stated, turning to address the group. “There are a lot of ships. We should split up so we can cover more ground.”

Everyone paid the captain rapt attention as he split the group into pairs. Normally, that sort of job fell to Time, but his fingertips tingled and the roof of his mouth buzzed, millions of thoughts drumming against the inside of his skull. He could hardly focus on a coherent train of thought aside from save him, save him. He felt immensely grateful that Warriors could focus and strategize. He’d have to thank the captain once all of this was over and Wind was safe.

“Old man, you with me?” A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. Warriors stood in front of him, gazing at him with a carefully neutral expression. When Time nodded, Warriors continued, “You and I will search the middle few docks here.” He turned to point them out and Time nodded again.

“What about the watchman?” Four asked as the pairs began to split off. “Won’t he notice us poking around the ships?”

“If this is anything like my era, the watchmen are there to make sure no one shoves off in the middle of the night,” Warriors replied. “Just don’t do anything loud and they shouldn’t bother us.”

Four nodded before heading off toward the docks with Twilight. Warriors turned to Time again.

“Ready?”

Time nodded sharply, gaze hardening as he looked out over the ships. He set off toward them, Warriors beside him. Time had to consciously remind himself not to run, despite the angst and impatience prickling under his skin. They passed by one or two errant crew members but weren’t given a second glance. Time had remained out of his armor and Warriors had removed his spaulder and scarf in order to keep a low profile. They’d also left behind their shields as Warriors worried that the moonlight reflecting off of them would draw too much attention. With only their weapons strapped to them, they could pass off as generic guards hired onto ships.

The dock creaked beneath them as they stepped onto the wood, their footsteps joining in with the rhythm of the water flowing and pushing against the ships. Several of the boats were small enough that they could simply peer over the edge and see no one aboard. The other larger ones required boarding and therefore stealth. As Time slipped past a crew member watching the deck, he remembered sneaking through the Gerudo and pirate fortresses. These men were far less observant than the Gerudo, making sneaking onto and off of the ships unseen that much easier. The cover of night certainly helped as well. He and Warriors methodically checked every ship along the dock as quickly as they could while still being thorough. With every ship they checked and no sign of Wind, Time grew more anxious. When they searched the last ship with still nothing after an hour had passed, he felt close to exploding. Warriors squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as they walked back up the dock.

“There are a lot of ships, old man,” he murmured.

That hardly made Time feel better. He clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to control his breathing. When they began down the next dock, he blurted out what had been on his mind since Wind was kidnapped.

“They thought I was his father.”

Warriors half-turned to him, brow pinched.

“In… in the moment, I…” Time pursed his lips, digging his nails into his palms.

Warriors rested a heavy hand on Time’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

Time let out a slow breath and nodded. The second dock took just as long to search and proved just as fruitless. Another hour gone, daylight creeping ever closer. Third dock. Nothing. Time pounded his fist against the side of the last boat on the dock. Warriors shot him a concerned glance, but he looked almost as close to snapping as Time felt. When they began the trek to the next dock, Time glanced at the ones further away to try and get a glimpse of the others. He thought he saw a blond head over the edge of one of the ships, but it was hard to tell. In any case, he could see no indication that the others had found anything. He and Warriors started down the fourth dock and Time felt close to simply screaming for Wind and hoping to get a response. He clenched his jaw to prevent himself from doing that and spooking the traffickers into hiding even better. When only three ships remained at the end of the dock, Time’s heart sank. Two ships and a boat. He could see from where he stood that the boat sat empty. That left two ships. Cogs, he thought he remembered the captain calling them.

Warriors pointed to himself then to the ship on the right, just as he’d done at the ends of the last three docks. Steeling himself, Time headed for the cog on the left. A shadowy figure moved about on the deck and Time ducked down, hugging the side of the ship and moving toward the gangway.

“You sure we shouldn’t grab another one while we’re here? We paid that customs officer off.”

Time went still at a voice from the cog, heart thudding in his ears.

“I’m sure.”

Time’s eye widened, blood freezing. That voice. Evenin’, gentlemen, he could hear that voice drawl.

“If the kid’s father survived, he’ll be making a big fuss. ‘Sides, that officer will only look the other way for so much. He hears about kids going missing, he might decide to grow a conscience.”

Time’s hands shook. This was it. This- this- Warriors. He needed to tell Warriors. After several tries and with monumental effort, he stepped away from the cog, slinking across the dock to the ship Warriors had gone to search.

“Oh, shit- Hey! We got a problem!”

Time’s head snapped around at the shout, fearing he’d been caught. But the figures aboard the cog weren’t looking at him, they were running toward the center of the ship, vanishing out of sight behind the sides. Boots pounded on what sounded like stairs. Several exchanges passed back and forth, muffled below deck. Then Time heard the words ‘kid’s gone.’ His chest tightened, eye widening. Quickly, he turned back to the ship Warriors was on.

“Captain!” he hissed as loudly as he dared. Warriors appeared over the side of the ship after a few moments, eyes round. Time pointed to the cog and he heard Warriors suck in a breath. The captain raced toward the gangway with soft steps, hurrying down it and joining Time to head to the cog. The voices from below deck raised, Time catching words like ‘don’t know’ and ‘here somewhere.’ Did Wind escape after all? Time glanced around, noticed the captain doing the same, but he didn’t catch sight of the fluffy blond head or blue tunic. Time reached the gangway first, creeping up it with Warriors just behind him. He stayed low, cautiously poking his head over the side of the ship when he was close enough. Moonlight spilled across an empty deck, warm torchlight emanating from a staircase in the center, leading below. He carefully stepped onto the deck, heard the soft thud of Warriors landing behind him. As they moved toward the stairs, the conversation below deck became clearer.

“-tching the deck the whole night, I swear, he couldn’t have gotten past.”

“Which means, like I said, that he must be down here somewhere,” the man that first approached Time and Wind said. “Stop panicking and start searching. It’s a small space, he doesn’t have that many options. Go watch the stairs to make sure he doesn’t slip past.”

Hurried footsteps came toward the stairs and Warriors and Time quickly moved around to the back of them so they wouldn’t be easily spotted. A sharp thwack like someone kicked something sounded, followed by a chuckle.

“Resourceful little brat, aren’t you?” the first man called.

Footsteps thudded on the stairs, the head of a different man appearing below Time and Warriors. Time carefully withdrew his gilded sword from its sheath on his lower back, silently stepping around the side of the stairs, remaining just out of the man’s peripherals. The man jogged up the stairs and turned around with a huff, agitatedly scratching the top of his head. His eyes darted toward where Time crouched and he froze, going bug-eyed. He opened his mouth to yell but Time moved faster. He whipped his sword about, slamming the flat of it against the side of the man’s head. Warriors was there before Time could blink, catching the man as he crumpled before he could hit the deck and alert the other traffickers.

None of that mattered though, as the second man that had followed the first up saw everything.

Before Time or Warriors could move, the man put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. Warriors cursed and drew his blade as footsteps pounded from below them. The whistler took a step back down the stairs, yanking a knife from within his coat. Three more men appeared behind him. Then they all rushed up the stairs.

Time blocked the first blow with his sword, returning it with a strike of his own. The tip of the blade nicked the man in the arm, who grunted, stumbling back down a step. Another took his place, slashing at Time. Time automatically lifted his right arm to block before remembering he didn’t have his shield. He caught the blade on his forearm, clenching his teeth as it sliced through his brown undershirt and into his skin. He resisted the urge to step back, parrying the next attack.

Warriors yelped and Time glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to see the captain fall to one knee. The man Time knocked out had already woken back up and sunk a dagger into Warriors’ calf. The moment the captain went down, the men on the stairs surged forward. Time jerked forward to block a blow aimed for the captain’s neck while Warriors twisted around to fend off the man behind him. In moving, Time left an opening for the men to slip past him up the stairs. He dodged a swing, stepped so he stood directly beside Warriors, turning to face the traffickers. They circled like sharks, jumping back when Time slashed at them. He tried to find a moment to switch to the biggoron sword, but the attackers gave him no respite. They traded strike after strike, forcing Time to go on the defensive as he tried to remain as a wall between them and Warriors so the captain could recover.

The deck lurched beneath him and he staggered back into Warriors. The other men lost their footing at the unexpected motion as well, the fight halting momentarily as everyone focused on regaining their balance. A loud clatter sounded behind him.

“What are you doing?!” one man shouted.

“They’ve got company!”

Time risked a glance over his shoulder to see a different man, one that must have snuck around the other four, dropping a long pole onto the deck. The gangway lay on the dock, presumably having fallen from the cog when the man shoved away from the dock. The ropes keeping the ship in place were cut clean through. Two figures sprinted down the dock and Time recognized them to be Sky and Hyrule, the two that had been searching docks closest to him and Warriors. By the time they reached the end, the cog had already drifted too far away and Sky had to grab Hyrule to keep him from running right off the dock, the traveler not stopping fast enough.

Time didn’t get a chance to see what they did next, whipping back around to defend against the men. One lunged forward and Time ducked under the swing. He shoved off one foot, driving his shoulder into the man’s gut and knocking him back down the stairs. The man tumbled with a series of thuds and yelps as the others dove at Time. He blocked one attack which left him unable to dodge the other, knife slashing across his shoulder. He forced the first attacker away and stepped backwards. His back hit something warm and solid. He stiffened, turning, only to find Warriors fending off both the man that had stabbed him and the one responsible for undocking the ship. He turned back just in time to intercept an overhead swing with his sword, riposting and leaving a deep gash in the man’s chest. One knife clanged against his sword, another deflected off his arm and leaving another deep cut. He gritted his teeth, trying and failing to find a moment to grab his biggoron sword. Between Warriors at his back, the four men surrounding his front and right, and the stairs to his left, he had very little room to maneuver.

One man made a clumsy swing, overextending. Time knocked the knife aside, throwing the man off balance. Then he followed up by running his sword through the man’s gut. The man’s eyes bulged before Time ripped his sword free and he collapsed. The remaining three hesitated. In a flash, Time swapped the gilded sword for the biggoron sword. He swept the massive blade out in front of him in a half circle. The first man in its path failed to dodge in time, receiving a devastating slash along his middle. The others leapt back with a cry as he fell, his blood pooling beneath him and mingling with the other man’s. Time pushed his advantage, stepping forward and swiping the claymore in front of him again, forcing the men further back. A sharp yell from behind him spoke of Warriors’ success and a thrill of adrenaline rushed through Time as he realized they could win this.

“Let’s everyone calm down!” a bellow carried across the deck. A yelp accompanied it that made Time’s blood run cold. He glanced back toward the stairs he’d moved several feet away from and his heart stopped.

The man that had first approached them stood at the top of the stairs with a smug grin. His fingers twisted into the sun-bleached blond locks of Wind, a knife pressed to the sailor’s throat. Wind writhed in his grip until the blade pressed against his skin hard enough to draw blood, a mixture of anger and fear etched into his face. Blood roared in Time’s ears as he watched, eye stretched wide, hands shaking.

“You two are going to put down your weapons,” the man said casually. He yanked Wind’s head back so more of the sailor’s neck was exposed, tilted the blade more directly against his throat. “Alright?”

“You won’t kill him,” Warriors spat. Time’s gaze darted over to see Warriors staring down the man with utter loathing, knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. “He’s merchandise.”

The man cocked his head to one side and flashed a grin at the captain. “You’re right.” Then in one swift movement, he pulled the knife away from Wind’s neck and plunged it into the sailor’s arm, dragging the blade along toward his elbow. Wind yelped, high-pitched and sharp, as Warriors and Time both shouted. Heat rushed into Time’s face as he watched blood soak into Wind’s sleeve. The man flicked the knife, blood droplets scattering from the blade, before returning it to rest against the cut, drawing a small gasp from the sailor. “Nothing a potion can’t fix.”

Time could barely see straight. Pure rage boiled in his chest and throat, flooding his head. Unconsciously, he took a step toward the man and Wind, but stopped as the man shoved the point of the blade into the gash again. Wind gave a strangled shout, digging his nails into the man’s arm in an attempt to free himself, but to no avail.

“I’ll repeat myself as many times as it takes,” the man said, smile dark. “Drop your weapons.”

Half a beat passed and the man stabbed the knife deep into Wind’s arm. He twisted the weapon and Wind screamed, the sound piercing Time’s very soul. Time tore his hands away from the hilt of his sword, the blade clattering to the ground at the same time as Warriors’. The man’s grin widened and Time’s blood screeched through his veins with a hatred stronger than any he’d ever felt before. His skin burned despite the cool air pulling past him as the cog drifted farther and farther down the river. He was so focused on watching the tears roll from Wind’s eyes that he didn’t see the shadow racing toward them across the water until the last moment.

The oncoming boat rammed directly into the cog. The impact sent everyone flying with shouts. A couple men unlucky enough to be near the edge sailed right over it, plunging into the river with distant splashes. Time tumbled across the deck, colliding with another body. He ripped himself away as pandemonium erupted around him. More men came from below deck, shouting about a breach in the hull. The man he’d crashed into attacked, launching himself into Time. They toppled back, Time sent a punch into the man’s jaw. His shoulders hit something hard. He recognized it as the side of the ship. The man wrestled his way on top of Time, aiming a blow at his face. Time let it hit, instead reaching to plant his hands on the man’s middle. Then he shoved, curling and kicking the man up and over his head. The man fell over the side of the ship with a yell. Time sprang to his feet before even hearing the splash, head reeling slightly from the hit. He glanced around for his sword, discovered Legend and Wild on the deck, coming from the boat they’d crashed into the cog with.

A holler from his right alerted him to a man running up in his blind spot. The man slashed, Time ducked under the swing. He dove forward, catching the man off guard, and shoved him over the side and into the river. He turned back, remembered the gilded sword, yanked it from its sheath. He heard a grunt and spun to his left to see two men pinning Warriors to the deck. All three were unarmed and the captain kicked at them as one fisted a hand in his hair and slammed his head back into the deck. Time darted up to them. He stabbed one through the back, the other noticing the fatal blow and leaping aside. Legend appeared behind the man and smashed the hilt of his sword into the man’s temple. Warriors stumbled to his feet, Time reaching out to steady him.

“I’m- I’m good,” Warriors panted as he regained his footing. His injured leg gave beneath him but he managed to catch himself before falling. “Get the sailor!”

Time nodded and darted away, head swiveling as he looked around for Wind. He vaguely became aware of water burbling underfoot, but he couldn’t care about that. Wild fired arrows from across the deck but switched to his sword when a man got too close. Legend leapt back into the fray with a cry, tempered sword gleaming in the moonlight. Then he spotted Wind, the sailor clutching a knife in his good hand and fending off a trafficker. Time took off toward him. He made it two steps before a body collided with him, bringing him to the ground. The impact knocked his sword from his grasp, sending it skittering across the deck. He twisted, managing to knock the pair of hands away before they could wrap around his neck. He punched man in the gut then shoved, pushing him over and sending them rolling so Time was on top. He grabbed the man’s head and slammed it against the deck. Then he did it again, and again, until the man fell still. He scrambled to his feet, gaze darting to where he last saw Wind. He located Wind just as the sailor sank the knife into a man’s gut, sending him down. Wind slumped forward with a gasp, staggering slightly. He didn’t see the first man approach from behind.

A red haze flooded Time’s vision. Before he knew what happened, he sprinted across the deck, careened into the man, and brought him down. The man’s shout cut off with a gag as Time grabbed his throat, pressing all his weight down into his hands. He’d kill him, he’d kill him, for everything he’d done to Wind, to his son. Everything the man would’ve done, everything he would’ve allowed to happen, everything, everything-

Something popped under his hands then all at once someone grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him back, shouts filling his ears.

“-dead, he’s dead, Link, please!”

Time blinked and his grip loosened. Warriors yanked him back with all his strength and pulled him back off the body. Neither expecting the sudden motion, they fell to the deck in a tangled heap, Warriors ending up half beneath Time. Legend appeared above Time, grabbing his hand, pulling him up. He said something that Time didn’t register, Time glancing back almost numbly to make sure he hadn’t hurt Warriors. Then he caught sight of Wind. The sailor staggered toward him, arm drenched in blood, bits of flesh jutting out of the wound and through the hole in his sleeve. A cry tore itself from Time’s throat and he wrenched his hand out of Legend’s grip, lunging for Wind. Wind’s expression crumpled just before Time collided with him. He gathered the sailor into his arms, shaking as he clutched the back of Wind’s head and held him tight against his chest. Wind’s body hitched with a sob, arms coming up to hug Time in a death grip. Time rocked back and forth, arms shaking as he stroked Wind’s hair, tucking the sailor’s head beneath his chin. Wind was here, he was safe, and Time felt quite certain in that moment that he would never let him go ever again. Then Warriors appeared at their side, squeezing Time’s shoulder saying they had to go, ‘I’m sorry, we have to move, now.’ Time stared at him for a long moment before sound came crashing back properly into his ears. He’d hardly noticed its absence until it returned. Water roared below deck, rushing in through whatever breach the ram caused and filling the cog.

“The ship’s got a raft!” Wild yelled. Time looked up to see the champion standing at the back of the ship, one leg up on the ledge. “We can take it to shore, but we have to go now!”

Warriors shook Time’s shoulder. “Come on, Link, we have to move.”

Time nodded jerkily, unsteadily getting to his feet and keeping his hold on Wind. The sailor made no comment on being carried, hiccupping and burrowing deeper into Time’s shirt. Time, Warriors, and Legend hurried to join Wild. Warriors stooped to grab Time’s gilded sword as they passed it while Legend darted away to grab the biggoron sword where it had slid across the deck. Once they approached, Wild turned and jumped off the back of the ship. Time’s heart fluttered with panic before he reached the side and saw Wild standing on a dinghy lashed to the back of the cog. Time secured his hold on Wind before jumping the short distance down. Wild had already begun attempting to untie the dinghy by the time he landed. The champion cursed, fumbling with the knot as the cog let out a loud groan, tipping slowly to one side. Time stumbled and quickly sat down, taking one hand off of Wind and bracing it against the thwart to steady them.

Just as Wild gave up and reached for his sword, Legend jumped forward, deftly undoing the knot. The dinghy plunged and Time’s stomach fell away. The boat slammed into the water with a splash, water jetting up the sides and raining down on the heroes. Legend snatched oars from beneath the thwarts. He sat at the dinghy’s bow, stuck the oars in the water, and rowed. Two powerful strokes had them gliding across the water away from the cog. Another loud groan reverberated across the water. Time looked back just as it rolled belly-up. The boat Legend and Wild had rammed into it got pushed beneath it, sinking below the surface. The river slowly swallowed the cog, bringing the bodies of the traffickers into its embrace.

Wind shivered in Time’s arms. Time looked down at him, suddenly aware of something warm and wet seeping into the front of his shirt. He gently pulled Wind back to see the sailor’s arm curled between them, blood soaking into both of their clothes.

“Potion,” Time said, voice raspy. His head snapped up to look at the others frantically. “Potion, he needs a potion!”

Wild and Warriors both reached into their pouches, withdrawing bottles.

“Drink yours, Captain, you’re hurt,” Wild said, holding his out to Time. Warriors didn’t argue but he didn’t drink either, watching as Time grabbed the bottle. Time pulled the cork out with tingling fingers, holding it to Wind’s lips. Wind lifted his good hand to it and tilted it back, gulping it down. The others all watched, making sure he drank it all. As he did, the flow of blood from his arm stemmed, the wound closing. He finished it with a gasp, sitting up a bit straighter in Time’s lap as he did.

“Alright, Sailor?” Warriors asked softly. Wind nodded a bit unsteadily, sinking sideways into Time and resting his head on the old man’s chest.

“Captain, drink,” Wild gently reminded him. Warriors watched Wind for a moment longer before knocking back the potion and sighing with relief. Since the dinghy moved along at a steady pace, Time wrapped his other arm back around Wind, enveloping the sailor in warmth. Wind wound his arm around Time’s waist, pulling himself closer.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Time’s heart squeezed. The exhaustion of the battle, the pain of the cuts in his arm, the stress, the panic, the rage, everything came crashing down all at once. A wave of dizziness struck him, chest and extremities tingling. He exhaled through his nose and rested his cheek on Wind’s hair. He held Wind close, feeling the sailor’s little torso expanding and contracting with each breath. He closed his eye and held Wind just a little tighter.

#linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #linked universe #tw death #ruby writes #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #lu time #lu warriors #lu wind #another fun fact: it was legend's idea to steal a boat (he was also the one that sailed it in) and wild's idea to ram the cog with it #I know so much about medieval boats now

[amoneki-ramblings]

and if you have time 002 Kaneki :) (I am asking everyone)

Let's go !!

002 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How i feel about this character: Ironically I cannot verbalize my thoughts about Kaneki coherently whatsoever. I need him dead. I need to hit him over the head with several hammers. I need him to let himself just relax and drink some coffee and read a good book. He sucks I hate him /affectionate he’s also so fucking cringe Jesus. For every coherent and analytical thought I have about the other characters I have none for Kaneki he simply. Is. He’s Kaneki he’s That Guy he brings me immense pain and he’s so self-destructive and he tries so hard and it Sucks /pos I need to stuff him into a blender

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Hmm oh boy I sure do wonder…Well, aside from the obvious I think Shuuneki could be very interesting when done right, and while I’m not as inclined towards their relationship romantically Hidekane definitely hurts my soul, especially thinking of them before everything went to shit for our poor protagonist

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I love his relationship with Hinami so much he’s such a good big bro :(( Even when he’s out trying to hunt down people and change the world he still sets aside time for her, but even then she’s so concerned for his wellbeing because she can tell how he’s Changed and how he’s pushing himself she just wants him to be happy and take a break :((

My unpopular opinion about this character: Hmmm not sure if I have any at the moment?? I’d agree with anything as long as it’s accurate to his character. Whether you love or despise this guy I will nod my head, I guess just don’t say he’s flawless, person/moral-wise, there’s a lot of good argument for why he can suck actually, but I feel like most people know that.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: I remember seeing in the original storyboards for Root A that Shironeki and Kuroneki actually interact more. While I like how it was saved until the end in the original series (when they hugged) I wouldn’t have minded seeing more of it beforehand. Kuroneki is Shironeki’s doubts voiced back to himself, the more uncertain version of himself that he locks away, and Shironeki simply calls that part of him weak. It makes me miserable. I love it

my OTP: *whistles, looks away*

my cross over ship: Don’t think I have any

a headcanon fact: This is gonna be so random (read: projection) but Kaneki probably bites a lot of things. He bites pencils, he chews straws, he’s especially guilty of biting/chewing his hands/fingers and when he was a human it used to leave marks all over his hands. The hand biting problem gets even worse after the torture. If you put your hand in front of his face he’ll probably bite your fingers. Like a weirdo. He needs to be stopped (I say, fully supporting this behavior; let him be weird and a little unnatural :thumbsup:)

#asks #shewhoeatssand #kaneki ken #One down one (technically two?) to go !! #I say one because one of them is the ship ask for Amoneki but I already answered that.. #Considering answering it with amonhaise?? Idk?? Should i do that?? #anyway. kaneki my silly guy #he makes me go insane and i have many thoughts about him #but unlike with everyone else theyre so incomprehensible even i dont know what they are #also sidenote but writing posts on mobile is a nightmare godbless

[thewatercolours]

Scrapped KQ Scene: "Roadtrip"

Ok, so I've been working on Goblin Graham again, and I was more or less following my outline from 2021, which is not the most coherent thing in the world. (That happens when the story is actually the decision, partway through a challenge, to see if you can force all the prompts to relate to each other.) And honestly, sticking with that original outline is no longer serving the story. Because I realized I had made Graham run away from Daventry while the castle was being besieged. mainly because I want his family to show him lots of love after the whole goblin transformation thing. Also back then I had never shown the Crackers, and I wanted to explore them. But - none of this works character-wise. Graham would die before running away from Daventry in its time of need. He is brave, and ready to fight for his people. He might falter, but not to the point of running off to Llewdor! And by this point, I've shown the Crackers many times. I don't need to shoehorn them in. I do need to do some rethinking to figure out how to keep certain things from the original storyline, because as clunky as Rippling Consequences is, I want it to work, at least technically. The setups are paid off, etc.

I was really grateful to @captmickey for talking this through with me and offering some helpful insights. She suggested that I take the scene where Graham flees and just make it its own thing. I don't think I'm going to reshape it, but I do like some of the things I did with this scene, so I am going to post it as is just for fun. It'll help me move on from the sunk cost and get the story back on track. So here we have it - the non-official, out of character scene where Graham behaves like a coward and runs, but also has bonding time with a bridge troll.

---

Those who have never journeyed overland in the palm of a bridge troll might assume that such a mode of travel saves time. Ordinarily, they would be right. Though trolls are a clumsy, lumbering lot as rule, the gigantic length of their stride makes up for it. Further, trolls never worry about following the twists of the road, or detouring at mountains and rivers. As long as you have no plans to cross the sea, you can more or less travel as the crow flies when you ride with a troll.

But if secrecy is an issue, well, you’re better off overloading a lame donkey with luggage and not watering it the whole way. You will get there faster.

Every day Graham and Olfie got just a bit further north, by way of an awful lot of east and west, and a significant amount of south. They chose secluded routes through the wilderness, giving towns and farms a wide berth. Bridge trolls weren’t unheard of outside of Daventry, but most surrounding nations distrusted them. Graham suggested that the best way to avoid attracting monster-slayers was to keep their heads down, sometimes literally. Olfie crept through the Miser’s Hills on his hands and knees. Graham rode on the bridge, trying to keep his balance. There wasn’t much to hold on to unless he sat by the very edge. That seemed unwise, but he tied himself in place with his cloak. His body lost height each day. The cloak was now about twice as long as he was, giving him lots of material to work with.

“Isn’t that the cape with big ol’ pockets?” his enormous friend asked after the first few hours. “Olfie could tie it to something. You could just ride in one of the pockets.”

But the experiment did not go far. The splint and poultice helped, but getting in and out of pockets proved difficult with Graham’s ankle. Besides, he found it easier to keep it from bending at odd angles if he rested on a flat surface. Once past the Hills, he spent most of his daylight hours in Olfie’s hand. 

He leaned back against the tremendous cupped fingers. and watching Serenia’s hinterlands thicken as they passed. By daylight, his vision blurred and most colours washed out, but the contrast between light and shadow was sharp. The sunshine itself felt glorious on his clammy skin. When night fell, the world came back into focus, alive in luminescent purples and greens. Even under the new moon, he could pick out insects crawling a quarter mile off. 

Scrub gave way to forest. Graham enjoyed trailing his hand on the overstory, much like he used to dip his hand into the water when he tagged along in the rowboat with his sister. Forest gave way to… well, a forest that clearly went to the gym and ate five dozen eggs every day. Massive paleghost trees dwarfed even Olfie, great-trunked and covered with what had to be the world’s thickest moss. Sometimes Graham snatched a leaf or a tree flower as they passed, just to give his overlong fingers something to fiddle with. He’d always been a fidgeter, but his goblin fingers were impossible to satisfy, just for sheer restlessness. 

It did help that he and the troll talked so much.

Roadtripping with Olfie was a revelation. They had always gotten on well, and Graham had never felt he needed to put on a kingly act for him the way so many had needed him to since his crowning. But Graham had never taken him exactly… seriously. He was grateful to him for all the times he has been kind and useful. But, well, he was Olfie.

But with nothing else to do day in and day out, they talked more than they had in the four years since the tournament. Olfie had infinite patience for his too-short tongue and stiff lips. He never once interrupted Graham as he tried to sort out his pronunciation. After the king had offered his fifth or sixth awkward apology for speaking unclearly, the troll had said, “Frankly, Goosie, Olfie doesn’t really notice. All us trolls got some got teeth that go outside our mouth, not in, so learning you tiny people’s words takes a while for us too.” He considered. “Kinda nice you slowed down, actually. Olfie can’t keep up when people talk too fast.”

And oddly, it was kind of nice.  If the path was slow and circuitous, the stories were allowed to be too. At first, they talked little besides choosing which way to go, when to stop and forage, when to bed down for the night. Then Olfie pointed out a ravine with flowers growing up its steep sides, which apparently looked something like the chasm where he had grown up.

“Funny,” said Graham.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen flowers like those in Daventry.”

“Olfie’s not from Daventry. Started out in the lowlands here in Serenia. Kind of far from here, though.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Yup,” Olfie said, a tad wistfully. “You’re not the only outsider.”

The silence lingered. “When did you come to the kingdom, then?” Graham asked at last.

“I’m not great at keeping track. Maybe fifteen years? Ish?”

“And…” Graham’s ears sank a little despite himself, “you still think of yourself that way after fifteen years? As an outsider?”

“Nah! Livin’ the dream,” said Olfie heartily, stopping to ginger his way over a boggy patch which probably qualified as a whole bog. Then he swallowed. “But kinda.”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe he should have said more, find out if Olfie wanted to talk about it. But Graham wasn’t sure he had the stability himself, even to listen.

“Hey, it’s not the worst thing to be,” said Olfie, with a consoling, toothy grin. “Least you got an outside to go back to sometimes, ‘stead of being stuck inside.” He raised his hand up to his face so he could look Graham in the face. As usual, it was a little overwhelming to be so close to Olfie’s eyes, one of which had passed as his “eye of a hideous beast” entry. But right now ‘hideous’ was very much a relative sliding scale. “‘This is just a guess, but with all this heading north - you’re going back, right? Home?”

Graham nodded, staring down at his lap.. “Yeah. Home.” He hoped so.

“Good idea.”

Graham shrugged. “Maybe.” He could think of a few cynical responses to go on with, but cynicism hadn’t got him and the villagers through the caverns. He took the second option - curiosity. “So, what’s it like to grow up in a troll chasm?”

And so the stories began properly. They compared earliest memories, roared over most embarrassing moments, and traded lighthearted gossip about Daventryfolk. Nothing too recent at first, but one thing bridged another.  By the fourth day, Graham started to haltingly share the story of what had happened after Olfie had left him in the town square that night. Of the aching choices he’d had to make, and of the enchanted cell he’d been thrown into when his first escape attempt failed.

Olfie didn’t have much to offer by way of insights or comfort. But by gum, he listened, listened in a way that was almost better than talking. “And then what happened?” he would say every now and again. 

It was… a lot easier than he’d anticipated telling his story would be. Maybe it was because Olfie wasn’t human either. Or maybe it was just the nature of this strange journey that didn’t quite feel real, this step-by-step rise and fall with no crisis, no escape to plan, no friends to guess how to keep alive, no split second decrees to make, no previous king to live up to. Would the words come so freely when they arrived in Dapplethorpe and everything became real again?  

Even wondering began to make it grow real again too soon.

One night, as the campfire in the clearing burned low and they finished off the last of their hunter-gatherer supper, Olfie cleared his throat. “So, King Goosie,” he said hesitantly. “You were pretty quiet today.”

“I guess so,” said Graham, gathering up the greasy pheasant bones. He could feel that with a little pushing, the day’s new thoughts would come out, and he wasn’t sure it was wise to share them.

Olfie pressed on. “Yeah. It must get a little boring for you. Anything Olfie can do to liven things up?”

Graham dropped the bones into the ashes and began raking them over with the roasting stick. “You’ve been great. Honestly the problem’s all on my end.” He should have stopped there, but something unruly in him went on. “ It can’t exactly be your fault when you’re just following the King’s orders.”

“Gosh.” Olfie raised an eyebrow. “Orders. Makes it sound all official.” He sounded slightly hurt.

The king sighed, trying to backpedal. “Sorry. I’m just a little out of sorts tonight. And I’m also sorry for… for dragging you into this. I can’t imagine this is how you were planning to spend your week.” But here it was again, the urge to pedal forward. “And, and if anyone gives you trouble when you get back for abandoning the siege, I want you to tell them it was on my order. Then they won’t blame you.” (Blast it, he knew where this would lead. Why push it?)

Olfie’s great eyelids narrowed. “You walked all the way to Daventry on that leg. You tried to get in but couldn’t ‘cause of the magic.You found out the goblins and little Manny Man had the place surrounded, and they’d grab you if they saw you, probably. You didn’t exactly just abandon the siege.”

Graham didn’t look up from the ashes. A note of anger he himself didn’t quite understand crept into his voice. “OK, to make it plainer -  I’m pretty much running away. When i said we should try not to be see, I admit I wasn’t thinking as much about monster-slayers as that… my own guards might be following us. To take me back. Because I ran away, like an idiot.”

“You got Baker Man and the rest of the little town people home safe. And you tried -”

He raised his voice further. “I’d been steeling myself to be okay with my friends seeing me as I am. But when my doctor screamed and crawled backward to get away from me, I chickened out. And ran away.”

“But home.”

The roasting stick snapped. “Even worse. Home with my tail between my legs and everything I tried for trailing behind me. Again. Don’t you get it?” The goblin snarl rose to the surface.

Olfie frowned and reached round the firepit with his thumb and forefinger. For a moment Graham thought the troll was going to grab him. But he stopped, and instead laid his hand down on the grass, right next to Graham. “So why are you going home anyway?” he said, lowering his great voice.

Graham didn’t answer. There were several things he could have said, but they all sounded childish. Funny how you could try to verbally whack someone over the head, trying to prove to them how stupid and cowardly and maybe even treacherous you’d been, and yet still have an inner eight-year-old who thought sounding babyish was worse.”I don’t know,” he said at last, the snarl gone. “I had all kinds of half-plans when I first told you we had to go. I thought I might make things worse. Or that there was nothing I could do. I mean, Daventry’s being attacked by goblins. And Manny. And Manny came to my cell while I was transforming, and he stopped me at the door to the surface. And, and I didn’t know what to do either of those times.”

“You kicked him,” Olfie reminded him encouragingly, clenching a fist and smiling.

“Yeah, I kicked him. Big deal. My point is - Daventry’s trying to defend itself right now. Even if they recognized me, they couldn’t trust me. Aren’t you constantly asking yourself what I might do, what I might try, now that I’m a goblin?”

“No?” said Olfie, puzzled.

Graham laughed grimly. “Thanks. But you’re you. Not everyone sees things like you. And even if they did… Look, I still plan to go back and handle this responsibly. Really. But I need to figure out what that would involve.” Olfie began to speak, but Graham cut him off. “I’m sorry I blew up just now. That wasn’t fair to you.”

The troll nodded soberly, and rose to his feet. The ground shook under him and Graham had to dodge a few unsettled sparks from the fire. “Ya know, this clearing’s a little cramped, and Olfie spotted a nice queen-size ditch just the other side of that treeline. Maybe we both could use the space tonight.”

(You know, I'm glad they had that conversation, because it was what alerted me to the fact that this scene felt all wrong. So - now we've had the scrapped scene, I can get on with writing stuff that works better.)

#graham behaving wildly out of character because the author didn't notice till embarrassingly late #scrapped scene #king's quest #king graham #goblin graham #my writing #fanfiction

[americanrecord]

how do you plan your stories?

great question.

tbh, i don't really have an answer for this one! i don't wanna say it just sorta happens, but it just...sorta happens. on one hand, i send my friends 500 texts a day each about various things and then just stack thoughts and musings in my notes in the early stages, and then on the other, i make detailed outlines and go from there.

take the priest novel i just planned to start as of literally yesterday. it's been an idea in my head since november 2022, but it's taken so many forms since then, it's quite different now. as of right now, i'm just sending my aforementioned 500 texts a day—starting very small. character names, basic appearances, basic dynamics, and later on i'll move to bigger stones like character histories, overarching plots and arcs, and then into the building blocks of scenes, chapters, and The Novel.

so while i flip through baby books and shuffle through pinterest for inspiration, i also just have sporadic things that jump out to me and i hurry to pin it down. with the suicide blonde series (not the name, i just don't have a series name yet), i had a template of a series to jump off of and just changed and culled where needed. i hardly remember planning the original, but having a band timeline to base my arcs and general plot lines off of made things infinitely easier. i always knew, sorta, what i was working toward.

with the untitled priest story, i got nothing. this story is dust in my brain right now. i have an opening scene, i have an almost ending scene, i have the emotional climax, and i have various other visions in wisps that are out of order and literally just visions in my head. a lot of walks in the park (literally), an emphasis on meals and conversation as keys to the heart (body and soul), a phone call or two with an older sister, a fair deal of loveless sex. the works. i have three folded up sticky notes on my nightstand right now about the main characters' personal theory on grief being a bus that will never come that i scribbled while at work yesterday and makes sense to nobody but me. there are so many holes, so many stretches of nothing. granted, this will be an intense character study, single pov, lots of depressed monologue set beside lengthy conversations shared between the two mains, and a very small cast (my speciality and many others' personal hell), so plot isn't at the top of my list, but there still needs to be something. i haven't found it yet, but i'm only on day two out here!

when i do sort of establish all the major beats of the book, however, i will outline. so when people ask how i plan my books, i first say that i leave notes in places all over. i'm in a researching stage right now, so i write and sticky-tab and make notes in my notes app or amass everything on a doc, but i will also just have long notes in my notes app about scene ideas, themes, random bits of dialogue, etc. the second thing i will tell people is that i plan. i am a planner! always have been, always will be. if you are a pantser, i'm afraid none of my writing advice will be helpful. i've never been one to write something and say "oh, i'll see where it goes." no, i need to know. outlining may also save you re-reading a pantsed first draft and having to throw half of it out, because at least with an outline, however terribly written draft 1 ends up being, there is much more likely to be a coherent structure. but it's just personal preference. the type of outline i use depends on the book. with the SB series, i have a very, very large one that puts the chapter summaries (long) in boxes and also includes timelines, date stamps, locations (for touring), and personal timelines for character arcs, relationship arcs, band arcs, etc. so i don't lose track of anybody in my ensemble cast. they look a little something like this:

the outline is divided into three acts, each act 3 beats, each beat like 4 chapters, i believe. the standard set up is the 3 act, 27 chapter outline (3 acts, 3 beats per act, 3 chapters per beat). i just adjusted it for my 36 chapter deal (do not do this unless you want to meet publishable word counts, take it from me :|)

with this priest deal, however, it's much more minimalist. very ambitious in how smart it will have to be—how deep and thought-provoking, i guess—which is the big battle for me (the challenge), but very minimalist in setting, scenes, and expansiveness to make up for the intensity of the characters and their emotions. so the outline will probably reflect that and will probably be much smaller. it might still generally have the acts going on, the general beats, but because its not really a romance (it is, but it isn't (but it is)) and it doesn't have a big plot, the structure is looser. it's literary fiction in place of genre fiction, which isn't bound to as rigid of expectations such as where your inciting incident, climax, and resolution should be, etc. but i don't know yet, exactly, how this book will pan out. i'm excited to find out, of course, but i'm not certain.

i will just say that, for me, it depends on the needs of the story. some need more intensity than others and some appear in my head more vividly than others. i will never advise against outlining, obsessive note-taking, and productive research, however.

#the prophet came to me and said to seduce a priest so im rolling w it #✉︎ — confessions.

[aromanticbuck]

[ ID: tags that read ‘#i have so many questions about the scream AU #i just have no coherency to ask them #or want to know things that would give away the plot #like if this does get written #will the party be described? #how does the killer get unmasked? #and more questions that i cant figure out how to put into words yet’ /end ID ]

tags are from @tealmoonlight

[ scream au moodboard ]

So, here’s the thing... I’m equally as incoherent about this AU, so we’ll be fine. If you come up with anything else, just ask. I’ve already told a few people who the copycat is I just want to yell about my kids and all the trauma I’m putting them through (I swear I love them I just also love horror films! so I’m combining my loves)

If I had the time I’d be working on this right now and I wish that was more of a joke than it is

warnings: death, canon-typical violence, horror film-typical violence

Under a cut because I’m so excited about this concept and this is gonna be long thank you for asking even these I will try to make sense 💜

If this gets written, the party where the Cozy Trio were attacked would be like... the prologue, so to speak? It would be partially described, or at least the scene that Trudy, Voight, and Al find would be described. I have to start right off the bat with Mouse covered in blood and suffering and protecting two kids - for reference, he was 17, while Jay and Hailey were 15, and the attack happened at his party he held while Thelma and Gregory were at a fundraiser and therefore not home. He absolutely feels partially responsible for everything that happened that night, because if it wasn’t for him, that many people wouldn’t have been in one spot for Knox and Disco Bob to easily find, and there would have been less carnage, at least, if not none at all.

So the way they’re found - locked in a bathroom with no windows so there’s only one entrance to guard, Jay bleeding from a few knife wounds (alive but clinging to it), Hailey scared and sitting on the tile floor next to him with less serious injuries but still plenty of blood on her hands and clothes, Mouse with a dirty cop’s gun raised and ready to fire at the door while he’s shaking too much to actually pull the trigger (again, because he already shot Knox to save Jay less than an hour ago). That would be described in the prologue, as an introduction to this universe and what, exactly, readers would be getting into. Just these absolutely terrified kids who survived something horrible and have to somehow move forward from that. The rest of the party and that attack might be described in flashbacks, later? Like when the copycat starts killing and the similarities are obvious to the Cozy Trio and the people who worked the original case? Things that would tie back a little bit more organically than just dropping all of it at the beginning.

The original killers get unmasked kind of anticlimactically? There’s not a lot of mystery in the original case, in a way. Knox is a college kid who crashed the party and no one there actually knew very well. At most he helped them get alcohol, but it’s the Gerwitz house so there was probably more just whatever they had laying around - wine, fancy expensive beer, top shelf liquors, stuff like that. And then Bob conveniently shows up shortly after the first kill, in uniform, claiming that a neighbor complained about the noise. They’re both people who are not supposed to be there, people who stand out in the small crowd of the party, so when the attacks continue throughout the night, there’s a moment of “wait, where are those guys we don’t know???” that kind of gives them away.

The copycat killings and attacks are the mystery, and therefore the focus of the fic, if it ends up happening. There are four attacks made by the copycat that lead up to their reveal:

an attack on a teen Halloween party, which alerts the team to what’s happening and sets them on the case and sets up the three red herrings

an attack on Jay, which clears [red herring 2] of suspicion

an attack on Mouse, which clears [red herring 1] and [red herring 3]

an attack on Hailey, where the real copycat(s) is/are revealed and taken down

This is like... over planned. Maybe I’ll write it for Halloween this year or something 😅 we’ll see. But until then I will happily babble about it and go on and on about all my plans (with the red herrings and copycat(s) redacted most likely) so as soon as you have more coherent questions, or if anyone has any questions (coherent or otherwise), absolutely feel free to send them!

#alex says things #shae tag #tealmoonlight #jay halstead #hailey upton #mouse gerwitz #greg gerwitz #greg mouse gerwitz #mouseupstead #cozy trio #cpd #chicago pd #one chicago #scream au* #i want to keep yelling about this always

[inkofamethyst]

December 19, 2022

[4:12a] I’ve been too sick to function for two whole days which means that I have to complete the majority of my archaeology final paper in essentially one sitting.  Luckily, I have plenty of annotations that I can copy almost if not entirely verbatim, and I generally write with too much fluff anyway, so I’m not too worried about not being able to hit the page limit.  Don’t get it twisted though, I am still very much sick.  I’ve had literally all the symptoms over the past three days.  Coughing, sneezing, sore throat, runny nose, chest congestion, sinus congestion, headache, too hot, too cold, not hungry, starving, dry mouth, tiredness, achyness... I haven’t the slightest clue what I’ve got or where I got it from except that I tested negative for covid so at least that streak is going strong.  Anyway I’ve wasted enough time, and I’ll be back this afternoon with a hopefully submitted paper and also hopefully after having another nap.

I just want to be able to breathe through my nose again one day.  That’s all I ask.

Though I woke up this/yesterday morning with the ability to hit an E an octave lower than normal which was dope.  Couldn’t pitch-match to save my life though.  My voice is mostly normal now, I think.

[7:02a] Close to if not at halfway.  While I do have the annotations and while I am perfectly capable of fluff, I’ve just now realized that my little research paper is not going to go quite as expected.  Also, even though I slept most of yesterday, I am still definitely zoning out every once in a while.  It doesn’t need to be perfect, it just needs to be done (and coherent (transitions will likely give me a nice little page count boost I think)).

[10:48a] There’s no way I can make it to 15 pages by noon.  None.

[10:58a] Well okay.  First of all I don’t think the prof will actually care all that much because he doesn’t seem like the type who wants to grade and second of all I think I have a cute little ending line and it relates to my title (which I only added in to give me another line (I also added a full header which I don’t think I’ve done since high school)).

[11:48a] Thirteen pages and submitted.

Today I’m thankful that I only have one more final to go (I started it; it’s hard).

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2022 - 16. Deiform Characters: Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt, Zoissette Vauban, Ryne, Gaia Rating: Teen Summary: Guessing at the shape of gods proves a troublesome pastime Notes: None

All was not well deep in the heart of Eden as it hovered in the Empty.

Much work had already been done on restoring the elemental balance to the great expanse that had consumed much of the First. Water had been restored, and then Earth. Lightning, followed by Fire and Wind, the latter two of which were handled simultaneously. All of the elements of the wheel, save one, and how they were to go about restoring that remaining one was proving to be a source of conflict.

Zoissette frowned, looking at the notes she'd made in her codex. Nearby, she could hear the shouting of her comrades. Ryne, pitting her will against Thancred, as she tried to convince him that she should serve as the conduit for the element of Ice, much as Ysayle had served as the conduit for Shiva back on the Source. Urianger had seemed to oppose the plan at first, but had quickly come around. Gaia, oddly, was not contributing much, but did seem to be against the idea.

Two against two. Zoissette sighed. There was not nearly enough information here to form a coherent theory, and this was exactly the kind of murky metaphor and unclear conceptualization she was not very good at, but any moment now, they would call upon her for her advise, and she would have to give it.

She heard Thancred sigh, and braced herself.

"I've made my feelings on the matter perfectly clear, but what say you, Zoissette?" he asked.

She looked up to see four expectant expressions looking at her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tucked her codex away in favor of pulling out her logbook.

"It's a terrible idea," she said.

Ryne looked crestfallen, as she clasped a hand to her chest, while Thancred looked relieved, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Urianger... raised an eyebrow. She met his gaze, and nodded, ever so slightly.

"Well, glad that's settled then-" began Thancred, while at the same time Ryne said "But we've got to at least-" in protest, but both of them stopped as Zoissette held up a hand.

"It's a terrible idea, but I don't think we really have much choice in the matter."

Now it was Thancred's turn to protest, as he recrossed his arms.

"Whatever do you mean," he said.

"Well..." said Zoissette, tapping a finger to her lips, frowning as she began to pace. "Let's think back, shall we?

"This will be the sixth and final element we summon. Success here may mean life for the First, but Ryne's got the right of it - that only matters if we can trust Eden to be left to its own devices. It's influenced by all of us, but after this, we're going to have to trust it to itself, and in order to do that, we'll need to make sure we've shown it the right way."

"We'll still have control of it afterwards," said Thancred. "Perhaps we should see if we can get it right first before we start thinking about what to do in the long term."

"Right, right, and I don't disagree."

"Whatever are you getting at, then, Zoissette." said Thancred, his frown deepening.

Zoissette grimaced, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to settle her thoughts.

"Prithee, friend. Your counsel, wheresoever it shall lead, is most welcome," said Urianger.

She glanced at him, wondering briefly if he was guessing at what she was having a problem with or if he knew, but she let that thought go after a moment. Whichever it was, he wasn't wrong.

"Alright," she began, settling in for the real crux of her argument. "Let's think back to the elements we've already worked on, and go through them in order. Do you recall the first one, Ryne?"

Ryne held her knuckles to her chin, looking thoughtful. "That was Leviathan, wasn't it? The big two headed serpent under the sea."

"Exactly. Just so," said Zoissette, and how she began to flip through the pages of her logbook. "Only it wasn't quite right, was it? Or at least, that's not how I remembered the fight going. When I fought Leviathan, it had only the one head."

"Oh! Of course," said Ryne, but then she frowned. "But wait, that cannot be right. It must have grown another during your fight, I am sure of it."

"I was wondering about that," said Thancred. "But what of it?"

"Well, think about it," said Zoissette. "Ryne, why did you think it had two heads?"

"Well... I remember you describing your fight against it. You said that at first, it attacked you singularly, shooting at you with jets of water and lashing at you with its teeth... but then you said it began to attack you from two angles of attack, and that you and your comrades had to fight them both."

"Right. Two angles of attack... two heads," Zoissette said, as she made some notes in her book. "Only it wasn't two heads. It was its head we fought... but also its tail."

Ryne frowned. "That doesn't make much sense, though. How would a tail be any danger at all?"

"You can ask Klynt about that later," said Zoissette. "I want to move on to the next element we tackled, that of Earth."

"Of course," said Ryne. "And you fought Titan. Thancred had to help you with that story."

"It's not my fault," protested Thancred. "Zoissette is a lot of things, but a poet she is not."

Gaia laughed at that, and Ryne shot her a look.

"What? It's true. Back me up here, Urianger."

"While it mayhap be a matter of opinion, I doth believe our Lady Sette to be a woman who prefers the machinery of her symbolic representations, to the more subtle flows of metaphor and language true."

Zoissette nodded, as she tucked her logbook behind her for a moment, continuing to pace. "He's right, I won't dispute that. I'm more prone to stumbling over my words than being able to produce so much as a rhyme. Do you remember how you helped, Thancred?"

"Well, I can hardly be expected to keep track of every turn of phrase I invent," said Thancred, and his anger had dampened some, now engaged in trying to follow along with Zoissette's thoughts. He puts his hands on his hips as he looked off into the distance thoughtfully.

"Well, if I may say there is any shortcoming in your verse, it is usually in painting the fullness of a scene. You're passable at straightforward description, but you usually fail to capture fully all the senses of a scene. Why, in the case of Titan, I believed that you mentioned what the primal itself was like, but you did not mention the fullness of the sights, or the sounds that may have occurred. As I recall, I had to prompt you to make the landslide metaphor, and while I was not there myself, I have oft heard the tale of what it sounds like when Titan approaches."

"Right, right," said Zoissette. "And do you remember what you said about the sound?"

"Ah, yes... I may have let myself get lost in that one a bit. One moment while I try to remember. I believe I likened it to the sound of grinding stone and rending rock, a landslide of rolling stones, like mighty wheels turning beneath the earth. I was trying to impress upon Ryne what it may well have been like to have been there, as he must have bored his way through you and your compatriots like a drill, shoving away all that would face him off the face of the firmament."

Ryne smiled, and clasped her hands together while Gaia rolled her eyes.

"You are rather full of yourself sometimes," said Gaia.

"Oh, hush. It made Zoissette's story rather more exciting," said Ryne, and Thancred smiled, despite himself.

"Right. Mighty wheels. And drills," said Zoissette. "And that's what he had, wasn't it? Let's move on. Lightning, and the fight with Ramuh. That one you should have had rather more familiarity with, Thancred, as you've laid eyes on the Primal. Did anything strike you as odd?"

"You mean aside from the fact that he suddenly had the body of a horse? No, I thought that went rather more closer to what you've personally experienced than the others, at least going by what you've told me of your many tussles with primals."

"To say nothing of our frequent review of the materials thou and thine provide," said Urianger.

"Sure, sure. That one was close enough, as far as how much I remember the fight, but the body? Ryne, do you remember asking about storms?"

Ryne took a step back, surprised at being put on the spot.

"O-oh, right! You said that Ramuh was a lightning primal, and I had to admit that I don't think I've ever really seen a lightning storm. You tried to describe it, with the flashes of light and the rolling of thunder."

"The rolling of thunder," said Zoissette slowly.

Thancred looked interested, now, fully invested in the discussion. "What of it?" He asked.

"You don't remember her question to you about thunder?" asked Zoissette, and Thancred shook his head.

"I doth recall," said Urianger, tilting his head and tapping a finger to his temple.

"I thought it passing strange, at the time, but now I see whence it makes sense. She asked if the sound was like that of a stamped of horses, as she had read about them in a story tale book she had been allowed, that spoke of the thunder of hooves across plains."

"Do you see it yet?" asked Zoissette.

"I feel like I almost understand what you're getting at, but not quite," said Thancred, with a frown.

Ryne shook her head. "I don't understand either. Are you saying we've been getting them all wrong this entire time?"

"Not... quite," said Zoissette. "Let's talk about the last two. Fire and wind. Two elements at once, and I thought that might be one too many. More than Eden could handle. More than I could handle, maybe."

Thancred nodded. "Right... and I remember I had to step out to talk to Urianger for a moment while you two talked about the details. Let me guess, you screwed up the story, did you?"

Zoissette smiled thinly at Thancred before looking to Ryne. "...perhaps. What do you remember about them, Ryne?"

Ryne looked thoughtful again as she tried to remember. "I remember... you described Garuda, the Wind one, as hauntingly beautiful. You said some of the Sin Eaters reminded you of her, but that she had rather more feathers and wings."

Zoissette nodded. "Just so. And the other?"

"...you said Ifrit was big and tall, and it was made of fire and muscle and tendons, and, uhm, horns. I remember you pointed out the horns."

Zoissette pulled out her logbook, and frowned, looking at her notes.

"...do you remember me ever mentioning that Ifrit was basically an oversized lizard?"

Ryne shook her head. "What? No! I - I think I would remember something like that."

"And do you remember what you were thinking, when we brought them into being, while I was fighting them?"

"...well... I thought, maybe, that it was sort of like... like a marriage, you know, between the two elements. That the were so different, and yet so alike, with matching tempers. I remember thinking that they would argue a bit, but also, that they would still fight, just, you know, together as one, once joined."

Zoissette made a small noise, and wrote down a few notes. "I am not great with metaphors." she muttered to herself, before looking up at Urianger.

"What was it you said earlier, Urianger? I'm better with math than poetry?"

"In a manner of speaking," he replied.

"In a manner of speaking," said Zoissette. "In a manner of speaking."

"That's all of the elements we've contended with thus far," said Thancred. "Do you mean to point out that they have not all gone quite according to your memory? For we already knew that. I certainly hope you're not trying to blame Ryne for that."

"I am trying my best," said Ryne.

"Blame's not the right word, no, but you're close to the point I'm trying to make. Look at everything that's happened so far, Thancred. Now, one might be inclined to say that the divergence between what I remember and what we've encountered could be blamed on me - say, an unfortunate tendency to live with her head in the clouds, I believe someone may've said."

"Well, if I'd known you were listening..." said Thancred, and Zoissette rolled her eyes.

"But we both know my memory is quite good, and, uhm, well...I don't -think- I'm dumb. Certainly not mentally compromised. Uhm. Actually..."

Zoissette stopped and looked up at the ceiling again, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious.

"Yes, yes, you're very smart when you put your mind to it, no need to be modest about that. Well, out with it. What puzzle have you solved?" asked Thancred, and his tone was light. When she looked at him, she saw clear and continued interest on his face.

"Well... it's not me. Or rather, it's not just me, and it's not just this place. Eden responds to us, it's true, and it needs my memories, and I suspect it needs the lingering effects of aetheric influence that those primals have had on me, but it's more than that."

Zoissetted gestured at Ryne, and Ryne blinked, looking surprised, and pointed at herself.

"It's her," said Zoissette.

"Me?" said Ryne.

"I think it's kind of obvious at this point," said Gaia, as she glanced aside to Ryne. "What you're trying to say is that Ryne's influence helps drive this place. We already knew that, though."

"We did," said Zoissette. "But we're not -accounting- for it. Do you see now, Thancred? The stories that I tell her, and that you've helped embellish, and that Urianger has helped provide context for, they've shaped every encounter up until now. And what do you think the most salient aspect of the story of Saint Shiva is?"

"...that she was once your sworn enemy turned beloved friend, Ysayle Dangoulain," said Ryne, quietly.

Thancred fell quiet, and Zoissette looked at him.

"She was," said Zoissette quietly. "But no, Thancred, I don't like this plan any more than you. But I don't think it will work any other way. Because I believe - and correct me if I'm wrong - I believe that Ryne thinks it won't work any other way."

"How could it!?" burst out Ryne. "You two were so alike, light and ice, both born in that same place. You two were so close, and while you became the Warrior of Light, she became the Maiden of Ice. You've embodied the Light, just as she did Ice. How else could Saint Shiva live, if not through her?"

"How else indeed," said Urianger. "Thou mayhaps not have the skill at story of our blessed bard, but thou hast thine own gift of clarity at times. I myself had reached much the self same conclusions, but I see now I did not express myself sufficiently. Pray forgive me, my friends, but I believe Zoissette has the right of it, and has put to words what counsel I hath failed to provide sufficiently."

Thancred frowned. "So wait, then. What are you saying. Are you telling me that we have to go along with this crazy plan? Is that it?"

Zoissette walked over to place a gentle hand on Thancred's shoulder, and she did not begrudge him the blistering glare he gave her.

"I think so. Like I said, I don't like this any more than you do... but I don't think we have much of a choice. Perhaps I could go back to the Source, try to find another summoned primal that happens to be aspected to the element we need, and come back here, and try to tell its story. But that would take time you and Urianger don't have. And in the meanwhile, the First continues to wobble along, unbalanced."

Ryne clasped her hand in front of her, and looked towards Thancred, her expression pleading, but she remained silent.

Thancred crossed his arms, and turned away. After a few moments, he began to laugh to himself.

"Minfilia. Shtola. Her impetuousness. You, and now even Ryne. Is there no shortage of stubborn women in my life who seem hells bent on self ruination?"

Zoissette smiled softly at him.

"Women who are lucky to have you in their life," she said quietly. "Women who would do well to be grateful for your support, and are. But also women who do not necessarily need your protection, least of all from themselves."

She gave his arm a squeeze, and he reached up to touch her hand, and squeeze it back, returning her smile.

"...I suppose you are right," he said.

Zoissette nodded at him, and he returned the gesture in kind.

"Though I must say, I don't understand how half the time you can be so insightful, knowing just the right things to say. And then the other half of the time you are just the daftest Elezen I know, and I'm friends with Urianger."

Urianger offered a bow in response, and Thancred snorted.

"If it matters," said Zoissette, "When we do this, I'll hold back as much as possible."

Thancred just shook his head before he looked to Ryne. "Ryne, I suppose that if you've got your heart set on this, there's no point trying to dissuade you. Just don't do anything reckless, is that clear?"

"As crystal!" said Ryne, excited now. "This is going to work, I promise. I'll make sure of it."

Zoissette smiled, and let go of Thancreds arm, taking a step back while the others fell into discussion about what needed to be done. As they spoke, she looked through her logbook once more, and grimaced to herself.

She may have been right, but that still left plenty of space for it yet to all go wrong.

#ffxivwrite2022 #final fantasy xiv #thancred waters #urianger augurelt #zoissette vauban #ryne #gaia #deiform #202209-17 #biot writes #shadowbringers

[im-smart-i-swear]

Hello! Can you tell us something more about your warrior cats oc Tortie? I really love his design. She's so pretty!

aaa thank you! tortie's design went trough many, many changes over the years, but i think im finally happy with it!

shes a character from my warrior cats story - though its more like a bunch of pretty solid characters w/ designs, backstories and interesting concepts all floating around in my head than anything coherent :/

tortie's story was always my favourite and hes kinda? the main character?? if this story even has one

its all set (cat) generations after the books... and the clans are not doing great - somethings wrong with starclan and their kits are weak. They expand their territory and drive away loners and other cats while still fighting with each other.

Tortie was 'rescued' by thunderclan as a very young kit and raised in typical warrior cats patriotism. She was determined to prove his loyalty, and beacuse she was bigher and stronger than the other apprentices he was tasked with protecting Plumstar(the leader)'s kits(in this au the title of leader is hereditary). Plumstar was the one who brought her to thunderclan and he took a lot of interest in his training.

His life on thunderclan was hard and dangerous, but fairly simple... Until one day another clan attacked their camp. She took the kits and ran(leader's kits were a valuable target), choosing to hide in a car parked nearby... of course this ended up backfiring when the car suddenly drove off with Tortie and the two kits still inside.

The three of them spend next year or two living in the nearby city, at first beacuse the kits were too young to travel all the way back to the clans and later beacuse Tortie started to slowly realise how fucked up the clans can be. Turns out, many cats living in the city were either driven off their territories by clan cats or were straight up ex clan cats themselves!

He eventually meets her mother and brother - both being strays - and learns that her father is actually Plumstar!(shocker) he hid the fact he had kits with a non-clan cat to save his reputation and stole little Tortie after a fight with Mastiff.

Tortie can be nervous and distrustful, but he cares deeply about the cats around her and is very loyal. She can be a bit oblivious wnich comes off stupidity sometimes, but hes actually quite smart and resourceful! Beacuse she had to look after two kits in a dangerous environment he can be overprotective at times. Deep down he always thought of that two as siblings and even without that she feels responsible for their wellbeing... even if they are annoying little shits sometimes.

In the city Tortie knows a lot of cats - when she and the kits came to the city, none of them had any idea how to survive there, and if it werent for a few very determined cats, they would be dead a long time ago.

As i said before the story isn't really that fleshed out - i treat those kitties more like excuses to come up with cool designs than anything! Theres like well over 10 characters with solid designs, backstories and personalities. I like to think of it all as a big playground sandbox where i can just relax and clash edgy cats against eachother!

Also heres a comparison of torties original design with the new one

The current design is the effect of hundreds of little changes and adjustments over many years

have some doodles as a treat!

Thank you for the ask!

#my kittycats #ask #my art #sorry this took so long! #i really appreciate you asking!! #warrior cats ocs

[rockturbot]

for the ask meme: 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 13, 22, 26, 29! (a lot, but i'm curious XD)

9 and 29 answered here.

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw I love Manfred's suit jacket but man are the lapels annoying to draw. I've tried making custom brushes to save time but never got them to look right )x I'll have to keep drawing them manually.

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself I think I post maybe 5% of what I draw. Lots of stuff never makes it past the sketch stage, there's doodles for fandoms I don't think anyone here cares about, or just drawings where I get into some kind of perfectionist loop where when I improve one thing I think the rest of the drawing now looks super bad, so I improve those things, now the other things look bad ... etc. Some are also technically finished drawings I either just don't feel good enough about to post or that would need like 25 layers of headcanons explained to make sense.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn’t supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it) Every time I rewatch the first two or three seasons of the Detective Conan anime I notice small things that make me go, oh, that's where I learned how to draw that?

8. What’s an old project idea that you’ve lost interest in I don't really lose interest in ideas like that. I just have a very long and continuously growing list of stuff I'd like to do, and which of these things feel the most urgent depends on what I'm obsessed with at the moment plus what skills I'd need to do the idea justice vs. what level my skills currently are.

I guess one thing I've postponed indefinitely because I think it's still going to take a while until my art is good enough is rewriting the episodes of The Professionals into one coherent plot and then drawing that as a comic, just for myself. That show is one of my special interests and every time I finish a rewatch I just feel so sad and empty because it just ends. There is no more! :( And I think maybe I'll feel a little less sad if I tell myself a version of the story that's ... well, an actual story, with an actual plot and emotional resolution and stuff where an ending actually makes sense to my brain, instead of episodes with no overarching plot that eventually just run out.

13. A creator who you admire but whose work isn’t your thing Can't think of any. I mean, I admire creators because their work is my thing, so ...

22. What physical exercises do you do before drawing, if any None (':

26. What’s a piece that got a wildly different interpretation from what you intended There's a painting I made in 20...12? 2013? of a scene in an original story I was working on at the time. My mother, who knows nothing about the story except that it exists and that this painting is connected to it, is convinced one of the characters is supposed to be me and is trying to get me to admit it to this day. Her ironclad logic? The character is wearing green :) No matter how much I tell her that doesn't mean anything, she just. Won't believe me. Maybe she would if I showed her the story, but I don't think I'm going to do that. Her interpretation of what's even going on in the painting is already so wildly different from what's actually happening, I think revealing the truth would just be super awkward. She says she thinks it's a prayer circle of some kind or something. It's, uh. It's supposed to be a public execution. Whoops.

Ask meme

#not art #green is my favorite color and I do wear and always have worn it a lot #but ... come on.

[theohnocorral]

Coming here to say THANK YOU for spreading all this information about cats and their impact on the environment! It's stuff that people just... don't like to talk about. Even a lot of the folks I interact with in my community who also care for feral cat colonies want to stick their fingers in their ears and say "la la la la la" when it comes to talking about the absolute destruction that cats can cause to an ecosystem.

I guess they think acknowledging it will somehow make life more dangerous than it already is for the feral cats, as though we haven't had to fight efforts of mass euthanasia in the past (which doesn't even work, more cats just move in to fill the void, it's like cutting off the head of the Hydra)

It's so frustrating! They all just wanna preach the importance of spay/neuter (which, don't get me wrong, is extremely important) but ignore all the negative impact and I just want to grab them and shake them like BOTH CAN BE TRUE, KAREN!

So thank you again! You said in so many words what I struggle to convey to people WHO DEAL WITH THIS STUFF DAILY. It truly takes a village sometimes to address a massive issue like this and the more people educated about the issue, the better! THANK YOU!

👀 HI!

I'm just glad it came out coherent, 😅 and glad I didn't start a fight...

I literally think about this like all the time... I've tried to have this conversation a few times irl and it can be very frustrating. My grandmother's neighbor was supporting the feral cat population in that section of town and we would see them eat at her porch and go kill birds ten minutes later. I like cats, I really do, but I also like my local fauna.

There's a lot to talk about here and what you said about spaying/neutering and euthanasia for cat colonies not working is absolutely true as well. My parents have been trying to catch a feral cat for a while now, who was just continuously having litter after litter. They caught a lot of her kittens pretty early, and were able to get most of them homes (they kept a few) but there are so many cats in shelters and people just letting their cats roam around that the population doesn't go down enough or doesn't stay steady in a meaningful way.

And yeah it's really hard to talk to people who like volunteer at animal shelters sometimes because they are working with domesticated animals (this is MY experience with it anyway) like they're doing a good thing absolutely, but it's not the same thing as saving wildlife, and sometimes it's just really hard to talk to them about the impact that they're catch and release program is having on my local marsh. No one else cares about the muskrat population!(sort of jokingly)

Anyway, THANK YOU! for the ask! The last time I got to info dump like this was about Smokey the Bear and none of my friends asked me any questions for like 2 weeks. Lol

#thanks for the ask! #corral answers #cats #environmental talks #this isn't so much me putting on the environmental studies jacket #but more this is the environmental student version of me hulking out #I love love talking about this kind of stuff #I am just so glad that any of what I said came out coherent #I have a lot of feelings and there's a lot of information to get through if you actually start talking about it #I'm glad any of it made sense #lol #thanks again!

[kumoriwrites]

What are your wips about?

Thank you for the ask, anon! Sorry for getting to it a bit late 💜

So, I'm going to preface this by saying I have over one hundred WIPs. Not kidding. My brain is extremely active, and I think and daydream a lot more than I put words on paper. There are ninety-six (96) projects on my fanfiction masterlist, and at least nine (9) novels sitting and waiting for me in Google Drive. One of the reasons I don't talk much about my writing here on Tumblr is because of that - because I have so many - and because I have trouble making my thoughts coherent most of the time.

Anyway, for that reason, I will not be telling you about all one hundred some of my WIPs (Why not, Maki? I ask myself sarcastically. Ha, ha.) Instead, I will pick a few that I have thought about a lot and/or worked on recently, and also that I just love and feel like sharing. Read below to learn about them!

Haikyuu fanfiction:

Comment Es-tu Vrai? (AKA "sunflower fic") is my current main project. It focuses on Miya Atsumu, a painter, who is still in the recovery stages of a rough breakup and is struggling a lot with loneliness - until he meets Sakusa Kiyoomi, the man of his dreams. Literally. Sakusa is a miracle who seems to only exist in Atsumu's dreams, where he visits him almost every night in an endless field of sunflowers. Atsumu, desperate to learn more about his mystery man, uses these dreams as new art inspiration and slowly falls in love with Sakusa as time goes on. In doing so, however, he grows disconnected from reality, inventing a world for himself beyond his real life and neglecting himself as a result, much to the concern of his loved ones. CETV focuses on themes of the importance of self-care (and lack thereof), grief in unconventional formats, and seeking/learning how to find happiness in life.

The Nohebi Novel (AKA Maki's Canon Nohebi Content) is exactly what it sounds like: A whole book's worth of content on Nohebi Academy's boys' volleyball team, who are unfairly minor and whom I have adopted as, pretty much, my ocs. I love them dearly and think about them daily. Nohebi Novel, focusing on the five main third years (Daishou, Sakishima, Hiroo, Numai, and Takachiho), is mainly a slice-of-life that details the characters' lives from before birth until adulthood, digging in to their home and family lives, their career paths, hopes, and dreams, their relationships with each other, and all the sweet and bitter moments in between. It is my pride, it is my joy, it is all planned out in my head, and I have not written very much of it at all. Remember my "[unwritten project] is my greatest accomplishment" post? Yeah, this is what that's about :')

Original works:

Clara In Particular (working title) is my most recently created novel, a mix of a story told by Casper and poetry written by Clara. Their lives are connected in a seemingly normal way, at first, when they meet at a café on the campus of a university neither of them attend, get to talking, and fall in love. But before their first week together ends, Casper receives a typed note informing him that Clara is going to die. He is pushed head-first into a mystery unravelling around him, forced into a sense of urgency and need to save Clara before it's too late, and lands on a path he's not sure he wants to follow. All the while, he continues to fall in love with Clara, while a future with her seems to grow farther and farther away. The secrets Casper has to keep only worsen matters, and he risks losing Clara in so many ways, none of which he expected when he met her. I haven't fleshed out too much of the plot yet, but it can be categorised as magical realism, and has ✨ autumn vibes ✨, as I love to write most.

Run Cried the Crawling is a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, set in 17th century France and featuring, again, magic and autumn vibes. Brielle, our little red, lives in the woods with her mother, and is not to speak to spirits. She is certain, however, that Renard, a curious stranger she meets near her home, is no spirit. He is of flesh and blood, just like any human - Brielle doesn't think much of the fact that he doesn't age as she does, and she teaches herself to ignore his wild, almost feral nature. When, at age thirteen, she makes the annual journey to tend to her grandmother's grave alone for the first time, Renard guides her. He stays at her side for the next five years, a secret for Brielle to keep from her mother, and teaches Brielle all she could ask to know. It is only when she turns eighteen and Renard turns hungry that she begins to doubt the reality the stranger has built for her. And when Brielle starts to believe Renard is a danger to her, she learns to fight with all she is to keep herself and the people she loves safe.

Wow hope all that made sense :) Thank you again for asking, and be prepared that you may never hear about these projects again <3

#maki answers #maki fics #maki's canon nohebi content #clara in particular #run cried the crawling

[nbmsports]

Jurassic Park revisited: How Steven Spielberg helped save Carmarthenshire cinema from closure | UK News

It's 30 years since Hollywood director Steven Spielberg helped save a "diamond in the desert" cinema from closure.Jurassic Park had its UK premier on 16 July 1993, a joint premier with screenings in London and at a small cinema in Carmarthenshire, West Wales. Elizabeth Evans, the leader of a youth theatre in Carmarthen, had launched a campaign to save the Lyric cinema from closure and had secured a screening of the film.The distribution company later reportedly went back on their word so the the mayor of Carmarthen at the time, Richard Goodridge, stepped in to help with a fax to the film's director, Steven Spielberg.

Image: Elizabeth Evans and Richard Goodridge pictured in a newspaper article about the Lyric cinema screening of Jurassic Park "I happened to be in the right place at the right time and I contacted Steven Spielberg through my office in the town and asked if something could be done and as the news will tell you, it was a success that, through his office or through his secretary, they allowed a copy of the film to be shown," Mr Goodridge told Sky News. "And I suspect because of the adverse publicity that was going to be given to the distribution company that they probably thought it would be best to allow them to show it on the opening night, the same time as it was in Leicester Square." YouTube This content is provided by YouTube, which may be using cookies and other technologies. To show you this content, we need your permission to use cookies. You can use the buttons below to amend your preferences to enable YouTube cookies or to allow those cookies just once. You can change your settings at any time via the Privacy Options. Unfortunately we have been unable to verify if you have consented to YouTube cookies. To view this content you can use the button below to allow YouTube cookies for this session only. Enable Cookies Allow Cookies Once Mr Goodridge was played by Harry Potter star Tom Felton in the 2022 Sky Cinema film, Save The Cinema, which was loosely based on events. It was only recently Mr Goodridge found out that the Lyric had in fact been the first cinema in the UK to screen the film after Ms Evans put the clocks forward by around 10 minutes.Mr Goodridge said the Lyric - now a theatre - had become a facility for "so many youngsters, under-privileged youngsters, that were looking for an outlet for their talents". "It's been a huge success for thousands of youngsters that have come through that theatre for the last 30 years and they've gone on to great things," he said."Some have become very well-known actors and actresses and that type of thing, and without Steven Spielberg's contribution none of that would have happened."

Image: A letter to Steven Spielberg from Richard Goodridge dated 30 June, 1993 According to Mr Goodridge, credit must go to Ms Evans and her husband David who spent many years working hard to secure the future of the Lyric."Although it was a brief spell for me of 12 months in that role and I was able to contribute to the saving of the building, credit must be given to both Liz and Dave who spent a lifetime, not just a year as I did," he said.

Image: Spielberg at the premier of Jurassic Park in 1993 "So a great many people owe their careers and their fortunes to Liz and Dave, and I'd like to think that as time goes on, while I had a contribution, it is to their memory that the success of this event should be drawn to."Read more from Sky News: Wales lacks 'coherent brand' to attract overseas visitors 'Dumbfounded' Johnny Depp visits Dylan Thomas' birthplace To celebrate the anniversary, a special screening of Jurassic Park will take place at the Lyric on Sunday afternoon, followed by three screenings of Save The Cinema over three consecutive nights. Source link Read the full article