#it's a scene from chapter four
A Scene from chapter four of A Progression of Events by Marijke/ @pipiezexal . Varian gets mommed at in prison and its everything I wanted.
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I finally finished this!! Took me some time, but it was worth it. This is a comic based on one of my favorite scenes of the fanfic La-La Narf by @shuunthenonbeliever . This fanfic is amazing and adds one of my favorite tropes ever to Pinky and the Brain. Basically everything takes place in a Roger Rabbit universe where toons are created to be stars, sadly our dear toon mice were created for toon experimentation, that doesn't stop them tho, Brain is still determined to take over the world and Pinky well... he wants to be a star!!
Please check out the fic, you won't regret it! It's a very well constructed story, with great references and as a plus its perfect for both shippers and non shippers (in case anyone’s worried about that)
Spoilers of chapter four from here so read under your risk: OMG this scene was so wholesome and pure!! Brain starting to like acting and having fans melted my heart (only to be destroyed in the next lines, but I’ll repress that for now XD). But well now time to wait for the next chapter while I pretend everything will go all right
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its been a hot minute, but i'm going to be posting an excerpt from a kingdom betrayed tomorrow so look out for that!! it's a helen/cory scene 👀👀👀
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the alternative reality in chapter 138 is not mikasa’s delusion (i saw some antis saying this)
1. isayama wouldn’t waste a chapter on it. i know it’s really hard for some people to hear, but he adores mikasa. he wouldn’t humiliate her like this.
2. in that alternative reality, eren asks mikasa to give up the scarf. to forget him after his death. why would mikasa dream of something like this? in the middle of a battle??
3. this alternative reality has the ‘see you later’ scene from the first chapter. that means eren dreamed of this alternative reality too.
4. eremika is canon. eren considered giving up fighting and abandoning paradis to its fate if it meant he could live his four remaining years with mikasa. in peace. secluded. in a cottage. how many beds were there.
5. ‘what am i to you’ is a romantically charged scene. the fact that people deny it is ridiculous.
we need to wait for the official translation. that being said, eremika was always extremely important. the problem is, people don’t analyze canon, they’re projecting their biases onto it. this manga really doesn’t deserve it.
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wild: excuse you, i am a strategic genius! name one time my plans haven't worked out.
four, deadpan: you fed twilight molduga guts because you "wanted to see his teeth turn green", and were surprised when he then "threw up all over your shoes".
wild: that was on purpose. next
(alternately: i've just read @fuckit-hero-of-trains 's new chapter of "alone together" and have yet to recover)
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you guys im vibrating with excitement because ive finally gotten to the point where i can write scenes utilizing the details from the first few chapters of indefinite that’s gone unaddressed and unused for SO LONG AND I AM STOKED
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As Above, So Below - Part 7
Part 1 // Part 6 // Part 8
yikes here we go let’s pretend i know how to write four people together in one scene i don’t but i mean i tried anyway so hopefully it’s not too awkward
Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, OCD, let me know if there’s any more
Virgil slouches in the pristine white carriage, letting his hair fall over his eyes. Patton, on the other hand, is bouncing off the walls, pressing his nose against the windows and drawing a face in the fog left from his breath. With a scowl, Virgil recalls the absolutely ridiculous scenario that got him here. That stupid flashback out of nowhere, the Nina lady rolling up with feigned disappointment, a carriage that might well have been pulled out of her butt, Patton’s demand to accompany Virgil. Mix it all together and you know that it’s the worst of both worlds.
“Look, there’s the gardens!” Patton gasps, his cheek against the window to see further ahead. “All these rose bushes! Look at that fountain! Wow, check out the—” He stops mid-sentence, flailing a hand behind him in Virgil’s general direction. “Virgil. Virgil. Virgilient. Viridian. Virgil. Verge. Virgil. Virgil.” Forcing back a sigh, Virgil takes Patton’s outstretched hand to join him at the window. “The gates,” Patton breathes. The carriage and boys are instantly dwarfed by the towering silver gates, bedecked with diamonds and rubies. Their shadow stretches across the road, casting the carriage into a moment of darkness. Virgil remains stoutly unimpressed, but forces a smile to feign shock for Patton’ sake. Ahead of the gates, which part on their arrival, stands an impossibly massive palace, looming over the entirety of the entrance gardens and their fountains.
Virgil leans back on the seat, fighting the urge to jump through the window and bolt for the city of convicts. Patton, not noticing his friend’s disdain, continues to take in the sights, ooh-ing and ah-ing at every last detail. Even the pavement isn’t safe from his admiration, given how clean it is. With his eyes fixated on his ratty shoes, Virgil ambles along from the carriage into the palace, guards flanking either side of him and Patton. Virgil ignores the marble tile floors—five square steps each—he ignores the lines between rooms—a centered step with each foot on the tile seam—and he ignores the cathedral windows—seven panels tall by two panels wide with a rounded triangle at the top.
All too soon, the guards deposit the boys in some giant room that Virgil readily blocks out—he doesn’t count the eight tile wide entryway, he doesn’t count the twenty one jewels embedded in the only throne in the room, and he certainly doesn’t count the thirty seven tiles separating him and Patton from the two guys in front of them. Most of all, he doesn’t watch that white-clad arm wave a hand to dismiss the guards out the door. If anything, he might deign to notice the kick from a guard to his knees, forcing him to kneel as Patton goes down voluntarily beside him.
“So, you’re the Virgil in question, I presume?” Gritting his teeth, Virgil lifts his eyes to see some guy in a tie looking unimpressed, probably the one who posed the question. He takes Virgil’s silence for confirmation before continuing, “who’s the other one?”
Virgil winces as Patton rises next to him, mentally kicking himself for not giving Patton a rundown on court etiquette earlier. Typical Virgil, he thinks, assuming everything will already be taken care of. Tie boy makes no comment at Patton standing without consent, merely waiting for his response. “If someone tries to take my best friend somewhere he doesn’t want to be, there’s no way I’m letting them take him alone.”
“Love the monologue. Still doesn’t tell me who you are,” Tie boy replies drily. Princey dude next to him lets a giggle escape before clapping a hand over his mouth.
“Right, right, so sorry. My name’s Patton.”
“Thank you. Virgil, up.” Mentally, Virgil pulls off some cool stunt where he jumps from his knees to his feet with his hands still shoved in his pockets, but in reality, he just uses the freezing marble floor as leverage to get up like a normal person. Immediately, he wrenches his hand back as if it’d been burned, the floor so perfect and sterile that is leaves his fingers quivering. Princey dude locks eyes with Virgil, a look that he returns with a vengeance, daring the royal to look away first. Roman, he thinks, but no, Princey dude is better, less personal, less of a giveaway. Regardless, Princey dude breaks the stare, a question lingering in his eyes.
“As we’ve heard, you passed your boundary line twice now, which has led to your current presence in this room today.” Tie boy takes a step forward.
“Redundant much?” Virgil mutters.
“Redundant,” Virgil repeats. “Current and today, you don’t need to say both words in the same sentence.” Tie boy stiffens, a weird expression crossing his face for a split second.
“Right. Anyway. Evidently, Prince Roman pardoned you from execution, so he’s responsible for your situation now, despite his lack of memory regarding doing so.” Shit, Virgil thinks, he might still know.
“Yeah,” Princey dude confirms, finally speaking up. Patton’s eyes sparkle at the utter composure of this boy garbed in white and red. “Care to enlighten us on the circumstances surrounding your earlier pardoning and release?” At Virgil’s silence, Princey dude nods. “Got it. Moving on, your consequences for violating the restrictions of your exile.” The words, formal and boring, sound out of place in Princey dude’s mouth, as if he’d eaten a dictionary for breakfast.
“Before you are posed two choices,” Tie boy continues, taking over again. “Execution, or constant surveillance by Prince Roman and myself, intermittently.”
“Oxymoron,” Virgil comments, neglecting to joke about the vague connection between surveillance and vigilance.
“Come again?” A muscle feathers in Tie boy’s jaw.
“Intermittent means not continuous, or at unsteady intervals, and while you use it to imply that different people will be keeping watch over me, so to speak, it lies in direct contrast with you saying ‘constant surveillance,’ thereby making it an oxymoron.” Tie boy looks remarkably close to slapping Virgil.
“As I said, execution is also an option,” he spits.
“Sure, but given that your guards went to the trouble of bringing a street rat like me all the way here, with a plus one no less, I’m gonna go ahead and assume Princey dude over there isn’t intent on that course of action.” Virgil isn’t quite sure where this sass is coming from, but he won’t deny enjoying the reactions it’s getting. Especially from Patton, who’s forcing back a laugh at each remark.
“Did you just call me Princey dude?” Princey dude asks, incredulous. Virgil gives him a shit-eating grin. “Well, you’re right, we weren’t really interested in execution, but I would like to know the terms of your previous endeavors that got you sent to the city of convicts in the first place. All in due time, I suppose.” Princey dude and Tie boy cross the thirty seven and thirty six tiles, respectively, to reach Virgil and Patton,
“I’m Logan, Prince Roman’s royal advisor,” Tie boy says. He extends a hand to shake, which Patton does, while Virgil pretends not to notice it.
“And I’m His Royal Highness, Prince Roman. But you already knew that.” Princey dude winks at Patton with a handshake, taking his awe in stride, before turning to Virgil. “I guess we’ll be palace mates, then? Or just really distant roommates.” Virgil glances down at the extended hand, then back at the prince. He knows that hand, its past, its doings, and its relationship to his own. The hand shifts closer, insistent. Virgil hesitates, recalling when that hand was directed toward him, filled with pleading and regret and condemnation and goodbyes.
Virgil does not shake it.
@reality-isfor-muggles @artistictaurean @adfandertime @virgils-old-sweater @karaidemon @dudapoconeh @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @fallingamor @ghostdorkphil @tinysidestrashcaptain @punch-you-with-friendship @pattykrabbies @virgils-hoodie @twettypuff @justanotherpurplebutterfly @lizethemotherlycat @skyshade48 @tree4life25 @andromeda-galaxsander @sombraplayslazertag @lemonpepperpizza @erlenmeyertrash @raincloudverge @potatoes-and-depression @milomeepit @coffeestudylive @sakurahayasaki @leesacrakon
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[ID: there are three images. The first image has Zuko’s face poorly photoshopped over a man with the caption “why are you doing this?” The second image is of two hands touching index fingers in a reference to the movie ET. The third image is of Sokka’s face also poorly photoshopped onto another man with the caption “Expressing your feelings. This is how you do it.” All images are from the k-drama run on. end description]
read chapter four of until you say it out loud here!
and if you haven’t read from the beginning, you can do so here ❤️
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to build a home | interlude: Blue
word count: 1k
warnings: mentions of anxiety. slight sexual tension (?)
author’s note: hi! its to build a home friday, no matter what baby. chapter four is still coming tomorrow but! in the meantime here you go – how miss soori blue got her name. yes – ira’s a human, too. she had her good moments, ok? she tried. I know we don’t like her but we’re here for soft ggukie so I hope you enjoy?? also im thinking of making these little “interludes” with moments that didn’t quite make it to the big chapters, blasts from the past and/or scenes that just come to me randomly? Let me know how u like that! <3 enjoy!! xx
This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x
He’s surrounded by an obnoxious amount of pillows – a makeshift fort around him that keeps him cozied up in the cool temperature of the room. For the first time in weeks, Ira feels an undying need to be close to him. To touch him, hold him. Feel him. She walks closer to his side of the bed, hovering above him – plotting her next move. She’s nervous. She knows she shouldn’t be. This is the father of her child, for God’s sake.
Ira’s therapist keeps encouraging her to draw endless pictures of what it- she. Of what she will look like.
Today, Ira made peace with the notion she’s having a girl. A little girl. She spent her morning trying to picture her – feature by feature. It was hard, though. But she’s okay with her being a girl. And that’s a victory in her book.
“Kook,” she tries, but it’s to no avail. “Jungkook… Kookie.” She shakes him a little.
His eyes snap open, and she laughs at his franticness. “Hm? Yes? What- is everything okay?”
“Good morning,” she says, smiling softly at him.
Jungkook hesitates for a second. “Morning…”
Ira swings a leg over his body, straddling him as her hands come to rest on his bare chest. She lets herself stare at him, allows herself to enjoy this.
“Let’s go to the pool.” She says.
Jungkook’s brain is failing him right this second and he’s 80% sure he’s either stuck in the middle of a hyper realistic dream or flat-out hallucinating. But the 20% that takes in the view in front of him convinces him otherwise. Ira looks beautiful. Her face hints of something otherworldly, her eyes in hues that adapt to the light when it hits them, her blonde hair curling up in miscellaneous places – the way it does when she doesn’t spend too much time styling it. She’s wearing a bikini. A blue bikini. And on top of him like this, she borders on heavenly. His gaze travels from her face to her neck, the full of her breasts, the way her belly swells right below them. She’s so perfect – so beautiful.
She notices his staring; the way desire floods those big eyes of his. His lust on her ignites an instinct she thought she’d lost yet she welcomes it, rolling her hips slightly against him. A hiss falls from his lips, shaping them in a perfect pout. His hand squeezes her thigh, making her giggle at his reaction. It feels good – to know she still has that power over him.
“You can have that later…” she tempts.
“Mhm?” His hands grab a hold of her hips. He missed the soft of her skin.
“Mhm,” she rolls her hips again, his eyes flutter shut at the feeling. “Pool first, though!”
Jungkook lays on the grass, Ira’s head resting on his legs. Their bodies are still damp from the water and the breeze cools them in contrast with the warmth of the sun.
His eyes are glued to his book – a text claiming to unlock the secrets of parenting 101, courtesy of Seokjin. He’s quite immersed in a paragraph about home remedies for teething when her movements catch his eye.
Her fingertips graze her round stomach, tentatively. It’s a faint touch that looks more like light poking but it’s certainly new. He stays still, tries not to move as to not break the moment. He knows how anxious Ira can get when pulled by maternal instincts so he lets her ease into it.
Her next words take him by surprise.
“It’s a girl.”
He doesn’t think he’s heard her say those words yet.
“Yes, baby. It is.”
“Do you think she’s gonna look like you or me?” She sounds so innocent – curious even.
“Well, I hope she looks like you.” Jungkook teases, bouncing the leg she rests on playfully.
She chuckles, rolling her eyes. “I think she should look like the both of us if anything.”
“She will, baby.” He says, growing soft at her words.
He lets the minutes drag on, staring at her, taking her in. He likes the round her cheeks have taken in the past couple of months. The mythical ‘glow’ that she proves to be true. He watches her hands dance on the soft skin of her baby bump, drawing circles over it.
“She’s moving,” his eyes widen. “Do you want to…-?
He lets her hand guide his, gently placing it on the side of her stomach, close to her ribs. He waits for a minute, almost feeling disappointed thinking he might’ve missed it but then he feels it. He feels her. Right against his palm, the spot bulging slightly as she kicks once, then twice, moving around in her own personal little bubble.
Jungkook’s eyes grow impossibly bigger. “Wooooah,” he says.
Ira finds it endearing – not the moment, per say. But him. The love he has for this… person he doesn’t even know yet. She wonders how he can love in total oblivion. How he can just trust his heart like that.
“It leaves me a little winded – when she kicks there. It hurts.” She murmurs.
Jungkook soothes the spot, caressing it softly. “She’s strong, baby. A kicker.”
Ira remains quiet for some time, as if contemplating. “No. A dancer, maybe.”
Jungkook’s heartbeat is erratic, he knows that much. It jumps and kicks and dreams at the speed of lighting in hope. So much hope.
“Blue.” Ira states, bringing Jungkook back to reality. A reality he deems so sweet.
“Blue?” He asks.
“Yeah. It’s a bit weird for a first name but it can be her middle one? You can choose what goes first,” she lets out a soft chuckle.
Jungkook runs his fingers through her hair and she closes her eyes, giving into the touch.
“Why Blue, baby?”
“I don’t know. It reminds me of you. And the sky… and the sea… and all that.”
He can feel her grow slightly exasperated at his question so he just smiles at her. She returns it and the action restores all faith in him.
Jungkook’s face lights up ever so gently before he says,
“Blue. Soori Blue.”
@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @girl-meetsevil @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook
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i PROMISED (in tags, which people may or may not even read, but still) that the next art thing i posted would be for the tarot series so ive been sitting on this for... however long its been since i drew this. now that thats posted, heres some humansona-as-metaphorical-representation-of-its-feed-presence ART and regular murderbot, plus one sketch where they’re both humans (from the beginning of the second chapter of reach out, i’ll come back by Fiannly bc oh my gosh the feelings)
[ID: five messily colored sketches of ART as a human and Murderbot cuddling; four are loosely based on canon scenes, while the fifth is from a human AU.
In the first, ART is seated and leaning on Murderbot; Murderbot has a disgruntled expression and looks very squashed. Both are watching media.
In the second, ART is watching media through its fingers with a distraught expression while Murderbot sits beside it and is patting it on the back.
In the third, Murderbot is leaning against ART while they both type code in one floating window and watch media in another.
In the fourth, Murderbot, looking rather worse for wear, curls up under a blanket while ART holds its hand from outside.
In the fifth, Art and Embee are seated on a couch while Art fiddles with a roomba; Embee has its face pressed into Art's shoulder and Art's free hand rests on the back of its head. End ID.]
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Drama CD 7 - First Preview
The first sample from drama CD 7 was posted on Youtube. It's from chapter 36 and starts at the conversation about the parrot. The last sentence is Yashiro asking Misumi if he can still get it up or if he's all dried up.
The CD will come out on July 28th, so just a few more weeks to go! In the meantime there should be two more samples coming though, and I wonder if one of them will be the scene of Yashiro and Doumeki running into each other again after four years. I'm pretty hopeful we'll get to hear Kamiya's voice at least.
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His baby face crying, “It’s not right.”
No, darling. It’s all kinds of wrong, but it’s what you get, unfortunately.
[spoilers and discussion to follow]
My first play through of this scene happened a couple months ago, but it’s taken me this long to rage quit, start over from scratch, put my thoughts together, and arrive here again.
This scene was the moment I realized this was going to be one of those kind of stories. Like Titanic. Like Romeo & Juliet. Like FFX without its sequel. For the record, I am too sensitive for those kind of stories. They tend to consume and destroy me from the inside out, and then all of the sudden I’ve lost four months to a black hole of feelings, sad songs, and angsty fan art.
For the first eight chapters of FFXV, I did expect that someone would die. It’s a Final Fantasy story and someone always dies in Final Fantasies. Well, we already lost Regis, so I guess I was running with a false sense of security. Or even if I suspected someone else might go, I was unprepared. We were having so much fun! We just got to Altissia. We were tourists. We saw the dress. Gladio told us to think about calling the wedding back on. (Remember you said that, Gladio, when you’re shouting at us “several weeks later!”) We hadn’t even had a chance to reunite with Luna yet. Not properly. Not like we expected.
Then it’s all over.
I see so many people saying that this scene didn’t even make them sad. Maybe I’m too sensitive, or odd, but this scene destroyed me. I had to turn off my game for three days and cry. Then, as I said, I promptly spoiled myself on most of the ending and started my game over from scratch.
Even Luna seemed taken aback in this scene. “A chance to see you once more. Who would have thought?”
Luna already knew that her life would be neither fair nor kind, but even she expected more than this. A moment, she asked for. By that, I assume she meant more than a literal moment as she was dying. She was told that after Leviathan, she would be released to Noctis as promised in the negotiation. She thought they would finally get to be together after all those long years apart. Once upon a time, she “foolishly” imagined that she might get to have a wedding, a honeymoon maybe, to be a newlywed for a year or two before shit hit the fan, but that dream had already long since passed. Now she was only hoping for a few peaceful hours with her love on her death bed. Even that would have been more than what she got. She didn’t expect this level of crap.
But poor baby king Noctis is only just realizing that his life will be neither fair nor kind.
I love Regis, of course. But I also want to blame Regis for this moment, for sending this sweet naive puppy to his slaughter. I get that he wanted Noct to have a cushy life, knowing what was in store for him later, but that left him utterly blindsided and unprepared. Which is how we are where we are and everything is blown to shit. And he only knows half of it at this point.
The artistry and symbolism of this scene blew me away. I don’t like these kind of stories, but I kind of love them, if that makes any sense at all. As a bumbling artist and student of literature, I sure as hell admire them for their artistic merit. Visually breathtaking. Just, everything about it. And I may not like a lot of choices they made with the writing, but I have a lot of respect for the setup and the sucker punch to the gut delivery. I felt just as blindsided as Noctis did in this scene. Which I think they must have intended.
It’s all that build up, all that anticipation, all the nervous hopes to be ripped away. It’s being blindsided by the violent switch between “what might be” and “what will never be.” It’s that she “grows up” before he does because she’s always known that life is neither fair nor kind, and he only “grows up” after it’s too late. It’s that he wanted to save her, but never realized his chance would be so non-existent. There’s not only grief, but so much shock and anger and frustration.
And instead, he gets a ring that represents all the burdens he didn’t want. 😭
So, if I have a point here, it’s just that I think this scene accomplishes what it intended for the story they were trying to tell. It was a rude awakening, a descent into the nightmare. It was all your hopes and dreams crushed and scattered through your fingertips before you ever got to hold them. (Which is a different discussion than whether Luna had enough character development, because no, she did not and I will always want more for her. But maybe we’ll have that discussion, too, another day.)
So, bravo, FFXV! Here, have my fanatic applause and my bleeding heart on a platter. Who needs a heart anyway?
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I’m ready for the weekeeeeend! *sighs* One more day of being in charge at work and then I can finally breathe and write. I wanna write. I have a bunch of ideas lodged in my brain that want to be written, but...energy. ENERGY.
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I commissioned the incredible @grand-admiral-lawn to recreate a scene from my Thryce quarantine fic Infectious, and while discussing, they mentioned this moment from chapter four had stuck in their head, so they illustrated that one too! 💙 Seeing something come alive from the page so perfectly is just wonderful. I love it madly, thank you!!!
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It's @linktober time!
Linktober Quest day three (I'm super delayed): main weapon.
Zelda got an ominous letter from a Sage... And read it too late. The wheel of fate begins to move again.
Based off a scene from chapter four of the modern AU fic!
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JUNE 26TH, 2021
And Onward, Into the Bright, Bright Future: scenes of chapters 177 (Abyss / Ambyssia) and 23 (Here / Away).
[Image IDs, transcripts, commentary, and taglist beneath the cut.]
[Image ID: There are four images; the first and third are drawings, while the second and fourth are screenshots from documents in Times New Roman font. The first picture, drawn and shaded in black-and-white ink, shows a woman on the right with short hair, a nose ring, and geometric tattoos on her stomach and wrists wearing a crop top and a parka with a fur collar holding the man to her left by his coat with her other arm raised, prepared to punch him. She looks angry. The man she is holding is thin, with short hair and a tired, confused expression. He is wearing an early 20th-century coat with a belt around his middle; above his coat-collar is a peek at the white button-up beneath it and a necktie.
The second image reads: In another moment, Sydney was on her paws, ears pricked, upper lip curled back with a rumbling growl, and Puck was pinned against the ground, Autumn’s tattooed hand round his twiggy neck, other clenched into a fist, screwed up behind her, ready to beat those bewildered features, and she barked, teeth bared and golden hair standing on end, “You’ve had your time, fucker. Remember our deal, huh?”
The third image is another black-and-white ink drawing. On the deck of a boat, near the cabin’s outer wall, there sit two men in front of a background of the railing and the empty ocean. The man to the left is leaning forward, holding his face in his hands in anguish; his eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are closed. He has short, curly black hair and is wearing a coat on top of a black turtle-neck. To his right, behind him, there sits another man, staring at the sky above, leaning against the cabin wall, and smoking a cigarette. There is a vague air of sadness about him. He is wearing an old military uniform, with one button on its collar and epaulets on the shoulders, and sunglasses; he has short hair, a brand on his cheek reading “VI,” and large sideburns.
The fourth image reads: “It hurts.”
“It - fuck, it hurts,” said Sacha, suppressing the sobs which clung to the edges of his lungs and dared emerge from a throat which did not desire to lay them bare before the breeze which tousled russet locks and caressed his sepia countenance, to the starlit sentinels which waltzed alongside the satellite supreme perched atop those heights of heaven, before those freckled features that did not reveal feeling upon themselves beyond mild irritation at the itching which had spread throughout their system of respiration, beyond the peace a product of cinnamon, cinnamon, the cause of the coming of destiny and thus demise, of stars, stars, STARS, the sinners survived, the saints, O Lord, they died, and the reality that Sacha persisted when the sparrow had not had been enough to tear his heart apart. “It hurts.” /end ID.]
So this is what I meant by “project” when I asked for those numbers between 1 and 230 a little while ago! I’m going to go through the numbers you all sent in and draw scenes from each of the corresponding chapters. It’s really fun to read my old work and see how much I’ve improved - I wrote chapter 177 in 2019 and chapter 23 in 2020 (from the second draft). :^)
Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @andifthestarsweretodie / @andiwriteunderthemoon / @vivji / @ladywithalamp / @vivian-is-writing / @annoyingwritingtrash / @souliloquyyy / @maxgraybooks
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spent today vibing. feeling a little better. should get back into the swing of things from tomorrow - the priority will be getting (2)-(4) written because i will be spending the entire month of july getting my final assignments finished and if i can’t get THREE up before then i would like to at least wrap (two) up. liveblogging should continue every day or so but from july expect much shorter reading bursts as i prioritise other things
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i’ve more than doubled my word count goals for camp nano so far every day, and aside from writing/finishing a couple of fight scenes, I’ve basically finished 3 entire chapters of PRVL. And granted, the fight scenes are the harder things, but they’ll definitely up the word count by a LOT, and if i decide not to move on until I write them, I won’t get anywhere. so, out of order it is
but like. Theoretically, I should work on the music. It’s the only thing standing in the way of me posting chapter five. I SHOULD work on it. I have ample time, ample ambition and motivation.
and yet. all i want to do is keep writing and start chapter 8.
getting ahead is good and all but I NEED TO DO MUSIC TOO
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