#ANYWAY GO FORTH AND PLAY

[ficwip]

This week’s word is…

🎶 SONG 🎶

Find the word in any WIP and share the sentence containing it. Reply, reblog, stick it in the tags, tag us in a new post, or keep it private. All fandoms, all ships, all writers welcome.

[spitedemon]

i really don’t think it’s “typical dragon age fandom nonsense” for people to be genuinely upset about the world state choices. combat, level design, art direction, gameplay gimmicks, those have all varied across each dragon age game. the one thing that’s remained constant are nods to our previous choices.

i wasn’t expecting my HoF to come riding in on a griffon, but i can’t find a monument dedicated to warden tabris somewhere around the anderfels? lucanis couldn’t have some lines about the time that one arainai boy was stirring up trouble in antiva city? you’re gonna tell me that making a mage the new divine wouldn’t have some impact on nevarra and antiva? on the anderfels, the supposed most devout militant andrastian nation in thedas? you’re saying nobody in the north is paying attention to who rules orlais or ferelden? come on.

[lucalicatteart]

 sculpted a strange shimmery two headed snail, speckled with wild flowers on it's shell~

[ganondoodle]

realized i painted half the environments on the first pages of chapter two in the wrong color and it kinda deflated the determination i had to push myself to get the first comic update out asap :/

[moeblob]

Look, I just think it's VERY funny and on brand that I thought of an entire premise of colorful characters for half the cast and immediately drew the only one void of color.

[patheticpat]

Told my girlfriend if she could guess who Loop actually was I’d divulge who the people helping the cast in my au and she fucking IMMEDIATELY guessed Siffrin, fuck my inter life lmfao

[trekscribbles]

The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Fourteen

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

Eliot hit the ground forearm-first, rolling along the left side of his body to spare himself as much pain as possible. Lancaster’s shot went high—he heard it thud into the wall, well past the desk he’d landed beneath—but his attention was on the sound of Parker’s footsteps as she broke from cover. One, two, three... The door crashed open, and Lancaster’s answering shot came four seconds too late.

Parker was safe. The rest, he’d figure out.

The radio buzzed against the floor in the middle of the lobby, and he heard a muffled, “Ford, I have Parker. Come around to the front. Lancaster’s still inside with Spencer.”

Thank God for J.B. He really didn’t know how he was going to repay him.

“Hear that?” Eliot called. “Now it’s just you and me. We can still walk out of here before the police show up.”

“No one’s walking out,” Lancaster said. “But you’re right about one thing: we don’t have time to play. Stand up. I won’t shoot, I just want to talk to you face to face.”

Eliot snorted. “Somehow, I’m doubting your sincerity.”

“I give you my word.”

That was as good as useless, but if Eliot wanted to keep him talking long enough to chance an escape, he had to play along. “All right,” he said, sucking in a fortifying breath before straightening behind the desk. His right leg throbbed, and he could feel the blood soaking into his jeans—another pair of Sunny’s ruined. He’d never pay her back at this rate.

Lancaster stood across the room, his derringer aimed at Eliot’s chest. “See you worked your hands free,” Eliot said, rolling his shoulders. “What took you so long? We shouldn’t have been able to beat you down the stairs.”

Lancaster grinned. “I had to stop at my safe. Didn’t want this to get caught up in the explosion.”

He lifted a gun belt, and Eliot snorted. “Don’t you think you’re taking this cowboy thing a little too far?”

“This isn’t a cowboy thing,” Lancaster sneered. “This is a Colt Model 1860 Army Percussion Revolver, owned by Jesse James himself when he rode with the Quantrill Raiders. I bought it for $230,000, but I figured once I found the James treasure, it would sell for twice that.”

A flicker of color outside caught Eliot’s eye: police lights. Their sirens joined the wail of the alarm, and Eliot did his best to push the noise to the back of his mind. “Hard to dig up a treasure on someone else’s property,” he said.

“Well, with you out of the way, that won’t be much of a problem.”

Eliot eased a step backward, shuffling to keep from putting too much pressure on his right leg. “You don’t know Sunny June very well.”

“I don’t need to,” Lancaster said. “That’s the beauty of money. You never have to get your hands dirty.”

“Until now,” Eliot said.

“Until now.” Lancaster lifted the gun, sighting down his arm and closing one eye. “A fact I’m about to remedy.”

Eliot braced himself to turn and run, but Lancaster didn’t shoot. Instead, he bent his knees, set the gun at his feet, and slid it across the floor toward Eliot.

“Pick it up,” he said.

Eliot stared at him. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Shooting at the range is one thing,” Lancaster said, sliding the gun belt off his shoulder and fastening it around his waist. “But I’ve always wanted to know how I’d measure up in a real gun fight.”

“Your gun is 150 years old,” Eliot said. “And mine has a range of like seven yards. Not exactly worthy of the O.K. Corral.”

“You scared?” Lancaster needled.

Eliot laughed. “That don’t work on professionals, hoss. I got nothing to prove to you.”

“Then put it this way.” Lancaster spun the cylinder on his revolver, sliding bullets in as he spoke. “I’m shooting either way. You can pick up that gun and defend yourself, or stand there and take a bullet. Doesn’t matter to me.”

Fire sirens joined the cacophony of alarms, but no one was coming inside. Waiting for the bomb squad, probably—he had to keep stalling. Slowly, he lowered himself into a crouch and reached for the derringer, his eyes on Lancaster’s right hand. He’d holstered the gun and stood with his feet planted wide, grinning.

“How do you see this going down?” Eliot asked. 

Lancaster flexed his hands. “You pick up the gun. It’s already loaded, but you’ll need to cock the hammer. Stand with it at your side, and then we draw. Fastest man wins.”

“Speed’s got nothing to do with it if you can’t land a hit,” Eliot said.

“Then I guess we’re about to test your aim.”

Great—Eliot had no idea if he could shoot. Probably, given his other skills, but it would be just his luck that guns weren’t one of the weapons he was apparently proficient with. But even if he could shoot, even if he could manage to hit Lancaster at the edge of the derringer’s range, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Whatever he’d done in the past, whoever he’d been before… he didn’t want to be a killer. Parker had trusted him to follow her out, and if killed Lancaster now…

He wasn’t sure how much of himself would stay behind.

“On three?” Eliot asked. He’d picked up the gun, frowning at the feel of the short handle in his palm, but was careful to keep it pointed away from Lancaster. 

“So you can shoot on two?” Lancaster said. “You’re not getting inside my head, Spencer. Just draw.”

“It’s not really drawing if I don’t have a holster,” Eliot muttered. He lifted the gun carefully, keeping it at his hip as he rose on his good leg.

“There’s no talking your way out of this one,” Lancaster said, sneering. “Either way, you’re not getting out of this alive.”

Eliot went still. “Either way?”

Lancaster’s fingers twitched, and his gaze darted toward a clock on the wall over Eliot’s head. “You think you’re the only one who can stall?”

Alarms and sirens screamed. Eliot’s heart pounded, sending stabs of adrenaline through him—but no fear. Time was up, and he was getting out. 

He’d made a promise.

“You assumed I had to call to set off the bombs,” Lancaster said, misinterpreting his silence. “That ain’t the only way to do it. I would’ve taken a long lunch, only to come back and find the evil Mr. Ford had made good on his threats again—but this will work. You’ve got about ten seconds to decide whether you want to go out with a bang or a bullet.”

Eliot fired. He aimed high, hoping to take Lancaster by surprise, make him flinch—hoping to steal an extra second while he turned for the door. Lancaster’s gun clicked behind him—a misfire—the idiot had probably tried using the ammunition in the gun belt. He didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Lancaster was following. He fixed his eyes on the doors—on the golden hair he could see beyond them.

The explosion started above them. Without the charges in the basement, the building shook, but held—windows burst overhead, raining glass down on the sidewalk outside. The firefighters and police flinched at the sound, hurrying to usher spectators out of the way. Eliot’s leg gave out and he stumbled, caught himself on one hand, and ran on. He was ten feet away—seven, five, two.

The next charges blew as his hand hit the door, and the force of the blast threw it open, glass shattering around him. He lost his feet, crashing into the sidewalk as heat exploded against his back, and then something hit his head—

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

[healpimp]

saw somebody claim the stickybomb launcher was too ugly for demoman and he should use the half zatoichi instead. disgraceful thoughts like this should be punishable by death, perhaps by tying them to a rocket going into space

[mercymaker]

trying to make bg3 work for me today got me like

[xheksprostate]

Hey so I did actually make a little primer for any of you interested in learning about hockey :) It covers the basic rules and pretty much goes in order of the bare minimum you'd need to know to understand what's going on. It does not include propaganda for convincing you to watch hockey. There's a final section I'll keep expanding on that's just personal enjoyment, and maybe I'll put propaganda there, but the actual meat focused on explaining how to watch the game is all completed and hopefully actually useful :)!

[mortalscience]

ten caps per episode - Law and Order Criminal Intent - s01e22 - Tuxedo Hill

Eames: What a snake-oil merchant. Goren: The snake oil he's selling is Tuxedo Hill. Eames: He wasn't anxious to give us the recipe. Goren: Well, maybe there's a place we can find the ingredients...

[artinandwritin]

I forgot to post this haha (that's what being too busy with animation brings you oops) but anyway!! Older gussiri designs bc I think they deserved that (they did have designs in my mind but I had never made a reference for them haha)

Plus some notes on what they're up to at that age! They're so silly <333

[gaylos-lobos]

actually before i go to sleep

giving Luz the same kinda shot composition here directly after finding out what happened to King and Eda (and telling Camila that she hasn’t changed her mind about returning back to Gravesfield after rescuing the two) while dressed as Azura (someone she admires) to when Philip arrived to the isles in search and rescue for Caleb (<- if getting there was accidentally or not does not matter) while dressed in his attire or at least clothes that resembles them, truly driving home the point of how similar the two of them are and how they really are just mirrors of the other

[st4rstudent]

Quick question . For anyone who has a sideblog (or an ask blog) is it worth doing the "new blog" option thats linked to you main or is it better just to make an entirely new account

[nayruwu]

Do you think shinya is kind?

He is someone who won't really care a lot if he had to kill his captured teammates in a mission (not guren and. The squad) but that is only because otherwise they will be tortured and treated worse. Also he doesn't seem to care much abt himself, but then that's not really selfless, ryt?

So I wonder if he is selfless or kind?

that's an interesting question!

short answer: i don't think shinya himself is kind, but he does things that are. he can be selfless, but only within the limits of rationality.

long answer...

i think first we need to take a look at the difference between niceness and kindness. being nice solely means you are someone that is friendly towards others, treats them well and helps when they can. and shinya is nice! unlike the other high-ranking hiiragi, he's gentle and treats people fairly, causing him to be quite popular amongst the army.

being kind however goes more into your actual nature and intentions, implying that you treat them according to a genuine sense of compassion or empathy. and this is something shinya lacks.

a big part of his character is that he doesn't really feel much of anything. he grew up in a place in which feeling sympathy towards another person was quite literally a death sentence - so to allow him to survive, his mind had to adjust. since he is mostly incapable of feeling the things that cause a kind person to act the way they do, it's not necessarily a word i would use to describe him.

but he's not nice for personal benefit either. he's nice because he knows being kind is good, and this is something he learned over the course of catastrophe. he grew up entirely without kindness, but in watching guren, who was raised to live for others, realised that it's something the world needs. but because of his trauma, it's not something that comes naturally to him as it does to guren. instead, he has to make a conscious effort to be good to others, and he does so because he wants to be good.

the same thing counts for selflessness - he was raised to be selfish but taught himself that living for others is what gives life meaning, so he went from watching out only for himself to risking his own life to protect and support his friends.

none of it was given to him. he decided to change all on his own. and i think that's really cool.