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kanerallels · 2 months ago

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In Saecula Saeculorum

My contribution for @inklings-challenge 2024! Content warning for death and injury

Playlist link (I HIGHLY recommend listening along I spent like four collective hours on this thing I'm super proud. I am, however, adding which songs are best listened to at which points. They will be the bold italicized captions at the beginning of different sections. All the songs mentioned can be found on the playlist! (also, when you finish Afraid Of Time, just listen to the rest of the playlist straight through. It should line up well enough!))

~Time~

When Stephen Reid was nineteen, he almost got hit by a truck while trying to cross the street. A young woman a few years older than him yanked him back onto the sidewalk as the massive garbage truck barreled past, seemingly unaware that it had almost caused his demise.

Stephen steadied his breathing, heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, then turned to thank the young woman who’d saved him. His mother had drilled good manners into him from a young age, and she’d have scolded him soundly for wandering into the street without looking first, let alone not thanking the person who’d saved him.

But she’d already started moving down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched in her green jacket, her hair (the tips of which were dyed an electric blue) brushing her shoulders as she moved. She was hunched over her cupped hands, whispering to something she was holding, and Stephen frowned. Strange way to hold your phone.

But there were more pressing things on Stephen’s mind. Namely, the fact that the world was tearing itself apart.

When he was little, things were so simple. It wasn’t just that he was a kid—Stephen remembered things had been happy, peaceful. He remembered summers spent digging holes in his backyard with his friends and raking leaves in the autumn. His mother and father had been happy, and life had been good.

As he got older, he saw the little ways things weren’t so good. The strain his father’s job put on him, the leaner times. But his family was still happy.

And then he turned eighteen. And things got really bad. Countries baying for each other’s blood, corrupt leaders turning their backs and doing nothing to help. Every day, the news showed more horrors. Every day, things got worse, and war was on the way. And Stephen knew he couldn’t just sit by and watch. His mother had taught him manners, common sense, and how to be fierce when it was needed. And his father had taught him that if you could help, you did help, and to care even when it was hard.

So that was what Stephen planned to do. In every way possible.

He’d started out with volunteering as he started college classes. There were even more people living on the streets now than ever, and helping make meals at shelters was a step toward helping them.

But then things took an abrupt turn for the worse. And suddenly, they were at war. And Stephen found himself dropping out of school to enlist.

He was twenty when he saw his first dead body—a woman on the side of the road. Face pale, limbs at unnatural angles, blood still staining the front of her shirt. It was an image that didn’t leave his mind for a long, long time.

Two months later he killed someone for the first time. He tried not to remember that. But it wasn’t the last time. Every time he took a life, he found himself mourning, for what the world had come to, for the life that he’d ended.

Stephen may have known the reasons for what he was doing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less, or stop him from wondering if there was a better way he could help.

At twenty-two, he was shot in the line of duty.

It wasn’t the first time he’d been injured. But it was the first time it had been serious enough to warrant being sent to a hospital for a prolonged stay. And as it turned out, it was serious enough that he was discharged from the army. The bullet had shattered bones in his leg, leaving him with a serious limp and pain that never fully went away.

It was strange. One minute he was fighting for his life, the next he was home. Like nothing had changed, like he was supposed to pick up where he left off. Stephen found himself adrift, unsure of his next step. He went back to school, but his old major didn’t seem to fit anymore. Nothing did.

He was twenty-two and a half when one of his classmates dragged him to their local church. Howard was stubborn and usually said exactly what was on his mind, without thought toward how he’d affect others. It was an odd combination of refreshing and very irritating.

And yet, in that sanctuary, Stephen had never seen Howard light up the way he did when the singing started. And listening to the words, he started to understand why.

He’d gone to church growing up, and it had been fine. But this was different. This was something beautiful rediscovered, and he cherished it. Soaked in every word spoken from the front. It was like water after years in the desert, healing after pain for so long. It brought peace he hadn’t known could exist.

Stephen was twenty-three when he changed his major. Not to a pastor, though Howard joked that he might as well, with all the Bible reading and questions. But to a counselor. Someone who could guide others through what he’d gone through, and worse. Someone who could help.

It was a refreshing of his original purpose, a rewriting of his story. It was the right thing to do, and that was all he’d ever wanted.

When he was twenty-seven, he started on an internship. And that was where he met Marian.

She was an astrophysicist, and while Stephen admittedly didn’t understand a lot of what she did, he liked to listen to her talk about it anyway. He liked her smile, too, and her warm brown eyes that lit up like gold in the sunlight. They both loved music, and swapped favorite songs every time they saw each other. She loaned him her favorite book, and Stephen read it eagerly, looking for what she loved in every line.

It took him a while to gather the courage to ask Marian out. Howard—now graduated, running his own construction company, and happily engaged—teased him relentlessly about it. “She likes you, you clearly like her,” the young man would tell him. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m waiting for the right moment,” Stephen would respond, and Howard scoffed in response.

In the end, he didn’t ask her at the right moment. He simply asked her, one day when she was stopping by at his work to talk about the book she’d just finished, eyes bright with happiness. Her smile outshone the sun when she said yes.

One year and six months later, she said yes again when he went down on one knee on a date to one of the few functioning observatories left in the country. He would have given her every star in the sky if he could have, but Marian settled for a diamond ring and a small wedding at her brother’s farm. Stephen hadn’t known someone could hold this much joy within them without bursting.

Two years later, Stephen was thirty years old. And that was when things started to get strange.

~~~

~Prepping For Rescue~

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

She avoided his gaze as she strapped on her protective gear. While the technology they were using had come a long way since the beginning of its use, there were still dangers. Being pulled through time and space could cause serious injury or damage, and the cuffs she was locking into place would generate a field that could protect her from that. Strange, how they almost felt like shackles, weighing her down, when they were the only thing bringing her hope right now.

“You know I am,” she said. “We already tested it. We can go back now, not just forward. And if I have that chance—”

“You’re gonna take it. I know,” he said. “But we still don’t know everything about this. We don’t know how it could affect the timeline. You could start wars, cause innumerable deaths. You could prevent yourself from even being born.”

“I know the risks.” She finished with the cuffs and grabbed her jacket, pulling it on to hide the cuffs from sight. “I don’t care.”

He looked like he wanted to comment on that very much, but just sighed. “Okay. Do you have your location drone?”

“Her name is Penni,” she informed him, and he sighed again.

“It’s a robot. It doesn’t have a name.”

She couldn’t hold back a smile at the old argument. “She does now. And I have her here.” Slipping a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a flat, circular object about the size of her palm. The domed top flickered between different colors, trying to camouflage itself with its surroundings, and it zipped into the air, hovering right above her shoulder. She brushed a hand along Penni’s surface, taking a deep breath.

“Good. Keep her with you, and I’ll be able to bring you back,” he reminded her. “Otherwise…things could get ugly. Because this is all supposed to be theoretical.”

“Then I guess I’m a pioneer,” she said, mouth suddenly dry. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Let’s do this thing.”

~~~

Exactly twenty-seven days before his thirty-first birthday, Stephen was on his way home from work. He stopped at a grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner—Marian was working later than usual, and he wanted to surprise her with a delicious home cooked meal when she got home.

When he stepped out of the store, a car drove by at top speed and shot him three times in the chest. Two other pedestrians were hit, but he was the only casualty.

Except he wasn’t.

He heard the car screech around the corner, and looked up in time to see the dark barrel of a gun pointing out a window—and then a girl slammed bodily into him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Glass from the store windows shattered upon the bullet’s impact, tinkling against the pavement. There were screams, and Stephen pushed himself into a sitting position with a groan, looking around as the car roared away.

Two other pedestrians lay on the ground—one hit in the shoulder, the other only grazed in the arm. Stephen automatically moved to help them, calling for someone to call the cops, his head spinning.

Because there had been a moment where he’d known, he’d been sure, that he was going to die. Not just fear. Utter confidence. He’d all but felt the bullets pass through his body.

But instead, a girl had saved his life.

The girl. Stephen glanced around—but there was no sign of her. And all he could remember, as he later recounted to the cops, then Marian, was a blur of green jacket and blue hair.

Something about the description itched at the back of his brain, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew is that he was somehow, impossibly alive. And he was grateful for it.

Two days later they found out Marian was pregnant.

~~~

“It worked,” she gasped, stumbling away from the framework of the machine.

Her friend looked up, eyes widening. “It—it did? Are you okay?”

She nodded, then stumbled again, and he caught her by the arm, hauling her upward. “Whoa. Sit down, have something to drink. We should check you out—”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving away his worry. “It worked, Tad. He—he’s not dead. Is he? I can’t—I can’t think—”

Steering her into a chair, Tad said, “Disorientation is a common side effect after traveling. Let me look at the database—drink some water.”

Taking the water bottle he shoved into her hands before moving to the computer, she gulped down some of the contents, her head spinning. “Do you remember how it was before?” she asked. “You said that you might not—”

“I think being close to the temporal field distortion preserved my memory,” Tad said, typing rapidly. “It’s fascinating, and if we don’t get arrested for this, I’ll write a paper–oh.”

Her stomach dropped as his face fell. “What?”

“You…almost succeeded.” Reading from the screen, he said, “Stephen Reid, died age thirty-two, in the ‘65 train bombings.”

“What?” Rocketing out of her chair, she moved to his side, swaying a little. Tad put a hand out to steady her as she bent over the screen. “How?”

“Looks like he was injured, but didn’t let on because he was busy helping others to safety,” Tad read. Glancing at her, he said, “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but—”

She was already moving toward the machine. “We have to go again.”

“What? I don’t think that’s a good idea. You already somehow created a temporal loop when you first went in. Who knows what—”

Spinning around, she said, “We can’t save him from being murdered just to let him die in a freak accident. It’s not—no. We’re fixing this.”

“And you don’t think this has anything to do with—”

Fixing him with a fierce glare, she said, “We’re going. Again.”

~~~

~The Typewriter Theme~

If that was the only incident, Stephen would have accepted it and moved on. He wasn’t dead, and that was something he was fiercely grateful for. His wife was pregnant, and instead of being dead he was there. For the moment when their little girl came into the world, and he held her close for the first time.

They named her Zara Grace Reid, and Stephen’s heart was full. For two long years, they had peace.

Then, when he was thirty-two, things started getting bad again. The governments were all fighting, and groups of dissenters were getting angry at, well, everyone, no matter who they claimed to hold responsible for everything going badly. Danger of terror threats grew more and more present.

The day after Zara’s birthday, Stephen was taking the train to a meeting across town. But when he got to the door, his ticket was missing. Racking his brains, Stephen vaguely remembered slipping it into his jacket pocket—and a girl bumping into him as they crossed paths in the station.

Strange. Who would steal a train ticket? He considered buying another one, but it was a nice day and he was in no hurry. He decided to walk.

Two blocks later the world exploded. Four trains, all across the city, blew up at once, killing hundreds in a deadly attack.

Stephen not only saw it when it happened, he felt it. In his chest, like he was on the train when it happened. But no sooner had the feeling come then it was gone and he was running toward the rubble, hoping desperately that he could pull someone, anyone out.

He missed his meeting and saved twelve lives that day. All the while wondering at the phantom pain in his side, but there was too much to do for him to care.

Hours later, he made it home after Marian, cleaned up, and only by the time he fell into bed did he wonder—did the girl who took my ticket know?

~~~

“SIX MONTHS?”

Pacing back and forth, she glared into space. “I only bought him six months? What does he do that makes these people want him dead so badly?”

“It’s pretty fishy,” he agreed, typing rapidly. “Okay, the records are a little messy, but I think I know the exact date. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

~~~

The thought didn’t really leave Stephen, as he racked his brain to remember what the girl looked like. He remembered dark hair with a splash of blue, and the girl had been holding something small. And those thoughts tugged at other memories—of a day almost twenty years ago, when someone had pulled him out of the way of a truck. Of the shooting before Zara was born.

He wasn’t able to really consider the idea, let alone voice it. Not until six months later, when there was a fire in his work building, and someone locked the door of his office, leaving him trapped inside while the flames grew and the smoke filled his lungs.

He’d been in tight spots before. He’d been trained, in the Army, not to panic, even when it was logical to do so. But as his oxygen seeped away and the door refused to budge, even as he bashed at it with a chair, Stephen found himself absolutely terrified.

No. No, this can’t be it. Images of Marian and Zara flickered through his head and he knew he had to fight, had to live at all costs. But if there was nothing he could do—

The door swung open, and someone pulled him forward.

~~~

~The Hornburg~

“I wonder what makes them choose the intervals they do,” Tad mused as he typed. “Is there someone else preventing them? Do we just do this for the rest of our lives? Are they experts or are they just trying everything and every year they can to kill him? Furthermore, what’s going to stop them from just going back to the same year and trying again—”

He stopped short when he saw her face. “Which…they definitely can’t do. Most likely. I think they can’t, anyway. It’s just that the science is so—I’m sorry. They haven’t done it yet, they probably won’t ever.”

“I hope not,” she said, checking her cuffs and scooping up Penni, who chirped a little greeting. “The last thing we need is more things to worry about.”

“Or to send you through more times.” His worry showed through the edges of his speech. “You don’t have to—”

“Let’s go again.”

“Okay.”

~~~

Stephen made it out of the fire and he could have cried with gratitude. The firefighters who arrived on scene seemed very startled to see him stumble out of the building, coughing—they said that the last man to come out had sworn up and down that there was no one else inside.

And they swore with equal fervor that they hadn’t sent anyone else in. They claimed that he must have made it out under his own steam somehow—adrenaline, maybe?

Stephen knew better.

“There are two options,” he told Marian when he explained everything to her later that day. Her brow was furrowed like it always was when she tried to solve a problem. “Either I have a literal guardian angel, or somehow the exact same person is traveling through time and space to save me.”

“I’m not sure which is more improbable,” Marian said slowly. They were sitting at the table, and her fingers twitched against the surface like she wished she had something to write on. “Bending time and space isn’t…unheard of, per se, but we’re years away from being able to achieve it under our own steam. And if we assume they’re from the future, they’d be moving into the past, which is, theoretically, even harder.”

“But then there’s the guardian angel idea,” Stephen said, grinning at her expression. “Which you think is scientifically impossible?”

She let out a long sigh. “I’ve learned not to count anything out when it comes to our faith. So…I don’t know.”

Reaching across the table, Stephen caught her hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll just have to pray that whatever this is keeps ending up at the right place at the right time.”

Their prayers were answered when, two years later, someone tried to shoot Stephen again. And again, he was pulled out of the way just in time.

~~~

“So,” Tad said, staring at the screen.

“Yup,” she said.

“A sibling, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Let’s do it again.”

~~~

It started happening more frequently. A near knifing in an alleyway, a car barreling toward him as he crossed the street. Every time, it was thwarted. Sometimes, he didn’t even see it coming—the coffee knocked out of his hands that hissed alarmingly on contact with the concrete, leaving it pitted and worn, for instance.

But every time, the attackers failed. And eventually, Stephen started to wonder if they should stop prevention and start focusing on the attackers. The only problem? He had no idea how to do that.

So he decided to reach out to the person who did.

~~~

“How. Did he do that?” Tad asked, staring at the screen.

“He must have realized what we’re doing, somehow,” she whispered. “I mean, he’s married to an astrophysicist, he has to have picked something up.”

Shaking his head, Tad said, “Okay, then how do we respond?”

She stared at the screen for a moment longer, thinking as she reread the lines on the screen. More specifically, the email Tad had found during his usual archive wide search for anything pertaining to Stephen Reid.

He’d sent it to himself, apparently hoping that it would be good enough. And it had been.

To whoever is helping me:

Thank you. I don’t know who you are or if you’ll receive this, but I have faith it’ll end up in the right hands.

Clearly someone wants me dead, for whatever reason. Instead of preventing it, why don’t we get rid of the attackers? Let me know how and when to help.

Stephen.

“What do we do?” Tad asked quietly

She studied it for a moment longer, then said, “We answer. I can slip him a message on my next trip. Have you located who it is and why yet?”

“I think so.” Opening a new screen, Tad tapped on the article he pulled up. “There’s a stabbing, two years from the next attempt, in an alley nearby his route to work. Exactly the kind of thing he’d get involved in and try to stop, right?”

Nodding slowly, she said, “Right. But why this person?”

“No idea. They’re dead in every timeline so far. They must do something that the attackers aren’t a fan of.”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Then let’s hope we’re not actually on their side.”

~~~

~FREEPORT~

For a while, Stephen didn’t think his message had worked. Things were peaceful—no attacks, no poisonings. Marian found out she was pregnant again, and nine months somehow managed to fly and drag by until she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, who they named Isaiah.

And then three months after that, it happened again.

At exactly the right moment, he was pushed forward, just in time to avoid a bunch of tiles crashing to the ground from the roof. When he caught his balance and his breath, there was no one there. But when Stephen put his hands in his jacket pocket as he started onward again, he found a slip of paper.

10/11/71. Four in the afternoon on your way home from work. Watch the alleyway off Racine. Be ready.

This was it. This was the answer. A little under a year in future, he’d be able to fix this, for good. Whatever this was.

So he kept the paper tucked in his pocket until it grew worn, the folds flimsy. He kept going with life—worked and went to church and looked after his wife and children. He avoided two more attacks in that time, and every time, his mysterious helper was there just in time, only to disappear before he could get a good look at her.

Finally, the day came. Stephen usually carried a knife, out of habit, and this time he made sure he had it, just in case. The day passed in a haze of business as he worked with patients and did paperwork and wondered what exactly was going to happen.

And then work was over. It was 3:45, and he was walking home from work, hands tucked in his pockets, trying to pretend like his heart wasn’t thundering in his chest.

3:47. He passed the cart that sold churros. Oftentimes he stopped to buy one and chat with the owner, but for now Stephen just gave her a little wave and kept moving, pace brisk.

3:50. A couple of kids zipped by on bikes, laughing.

3:51. He heard footsteps behind him, and his heart lurched. Be ready, Stephen.

3:55. The sidewalk came to an end at an intersection, and he turned onto the sidewalk along Racine.

3:58. He wove through a group of teenagers and sped up a little. He could see the opening for the alleyway.

3:59. Heart pounding in his throat, Stephen came to a stop outside the alleyway.

4:00.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing. And then he heard a muffled scream from the alleyway.

Instinctively, Stephen started forward, concern rippling through him. It had been the voice of a girl—young, too young. Most likely not his helper, but that didn’t lower his concern.

He made it two steps forward before he was grabbed from behind. Stephen vaguely registered the cold press of steel against his throat for a heartbeat before he moved, driving an elbow backward into his attacker’s gut.

There was a grunt—a man’s voice, judging by the baritone—but the grip didn’t loosen. Until Stephen snapped his head backward , connecting solidly with the other man’s nose.

There was a crunch and a howl of pain, and Stephen felt the knife at his throat break skin—

And then the grip was gone, and he was stumbling forward, hand pressed against the shallow cut on his neck. Spinning around, Stephen registered a man in all black taking a swing at a young woman—green jacket, hair dyed blue at the tips, holding a weapon he didn’t recognize. What looked like a tiny flying saucer hovered next to her shoulder.

“Help her!” she shouted, dodging her opponent’s blow with ease.

For a moment, Stephen didn’t know what she meant. And then he remembered the scream from the alleyway, and turned. Pulling his knife from his pocket, he moved.

There were two men, both trying to subdue a struggling, terrified girl. One had a hand over her mouth, and the other held a wickedly curved knife. Stephen took a moment to wonder why these people insisted on using knives, and then he was on top of them.

Clearly, either of the men were expecting him. The one holding the blade went flying into the wall with a cry of pain, clutching his shoulder where Stephen’s knife had gone deep, tearing through muscle.

The second tried to reel backward, avoiding Stephen as he clutched for his own weapon while clinging to his victim. But Stephen smashed his fist into the man’s face, catching hold of the girl’s arm and pulling her away at the same time, using the man’s momentum as he fell to tear her free.

He took a minute to glance at her—no sign of injuries, just bright red hair and freckles and shocked tears starting to escape—and then turned to face his opponents again.

Only to find them gone, a trace of blood on the ground the only sign that they’d been there in the first place.

What? Baffled, Stephen turned in a full circle, then glanced at the girl. “Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded shakily. “Okay. Wait here a minute. Call if you need me.”

Moving quickly, he headed back to the mouth of the alleyway, to see if there was any sign of his mysterious helper, or her opponent. But there was nothing. Just the now oddly dusty sidewalk, passersby who seemed to have no idea what had happened, and—

A scrap of white paper. Stephen bent and picked it up, unfolding it, and read the now familiar lopsided script inside.

She’s safe. You both are, unless you see me again. Look after her. Don’t worry about the other attackers.

There was no signature, although Stephen hadn’t expected one. A wave of relief swept over him, and he breathed out a prayer of thanks.

He was safe. They were both safe. It was done.

~~~

~Afraid Of Time~

“It’s not done,” she said.

“What?” Tad stared at her, baffled. “How can it not be done? We saved the victims, including a victim we didn’t even know we had until now, helped catch time traveling murderers, and hopefully we’re not even getting arrested for using government property without permission. Your mom might not even yell at us. How is this not a win—”

He stopped short, looking at her. As she looked at the computer file in front of her, wishing the words were different.

Stephen Reid. Died 10/12/83

“Zee.” Tad’s voice was soft. “You can’t stop everything.”

“That’s kind of the point of this whole time travel thing, Tad. I can.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m stopping this. I’m going in again.”

~~~

Stephen had always loved autumns. The crisp, cool air, the knowledge of the approaching season that heralded celebrations and wonder and joy and family time. How could he do anything but love it?

Sure, he’d almost died at this time of year a few times, but with his life, when was that not true?

It had been 12 years since the last incident. He’d helped the girl—Jenny, a teenager who’d been alone and afraid and had no idea why those men had attacked her—to the hospital to get checked out. They repeated the same impossible story to the police over and over until they finally got tired of asking and declared the case closed. Stephen was fine with it. He’d been told they were safe, and he believed that.

Years had passed. Jenny became all but a member of the family, and he and Marian encouraged her and supported as she chose a career path and moved forward with her life. Stephen still wasn’t sure what the men wanted with her, but it didn’t matter. Her purpose was her own to discover.

His other two children were far too close to grown up for his taste, as well. Isaiah was thirteen, flirting with girls, and discovering a love for basketball paralleled only by his love for mischief. And Zara was in college, pursuing a degree in physics.

He held great hope and joy for both of them, that they would grow up to change the world in whatever small or big ways the Lord had planned for them. If Stephen was being honest, he held a very specific theory for one of them, as time passed and the similarity grew stronger and stronger.

And that was why, on his walk home from work, he wasn’t overly surprised to see a familiar figure at his bus stop.

She was sitting on the bench, knees pulled up against her chest. Her hair, dark like her mother’s where it wasn’t blue, covered her face in a curtain, and the tiny flying saucer hovered at her shoulder again. As Stephen drew closer, he heard it letting out soft little chirps, like it was trying to comfort her.

Sitting next to her with a grunt, Stephen set down his bag and leaned back. Glancing at her, he said, “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Her chin jerked up a little, like she was surprised to hear his voice, then lowered again. Stephen watched her for a moment, debating whether or not he should speak again, when she did, voice low and cautious.

“If you could know the day that you died, would you want to?”

Stephen considered for a moment, tapping a finger against his knee. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My instinct would be no—why live in dread of something like that? But I can’t say I would be curious.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” the girl agreed, voice still quiet. “What if…what if you could stop it? If someone just told you the right things?”

A heavy feeling began to settle over Stepehn’s chest. “Can you?” he asked, abandoning all pretense.

She let out a choked sob, and Stephen felt a stab of sadness. “I tried,” she choked out. “I tried again and again, but no matter what I do—”

“It’s okay,” Stephen told her, gently reaching out to touch her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Letting her feet drop down, the girl scrubbed a hand across her face angrily. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I might,” Stephen said, his voice very soft.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t. For you, it’s been another twenty years, but for me…I thought I’d get to go home and—” she stopped short, staring across the street, eyes red.

“And I’d be there?”

She swiveled to face him, eyes going wide. “What—how did you—”

“You’re my daughter, Zara. How could I not recognize you?”

Her face crumpled, and Stephen slid across the bench to pull her into a hug as she burst into tears. She pressed her face against his shoulder and he ran his hand over her hair, the way he used to when she was a little girl.

Closing his eyes against tears of his, he whispered, “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she mumbled, voice muffled by his shirt. “I was supposed to get you back.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out. “Just not for as long as you wanted. But you were the one who saved me, so many times. You’re the reason I got to watch you and Isaiah grow up, and I will never stop being grateful for that. You’re the reason Jenny’s alive.”

“It’s not enough,” she whispered. “This shouldn’t be the last time I see you.”

Stephen almost laughed, tears springing to his eyes. “It won’t be. If there’s one thing I hope your mother and I taught you, it’s that.”

Pressing a kiss against the top of her head, he pulled back a little, taking a look at her. Zara had his wife’s beauty and dark wavy hair, and he wondered when she would dye the tips blue. Her eyes were the same warm brown as Marian’s—oh, Marian—and right now, they were wet with tears.

“I don’t want to let you go,” she said, voice shaking.

“I know,” Stephen said, heart aching. All he wanted was to tell his daughter that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be able to come home. But it was becoming increasingly clear that he couldn’t make that promise.

Instead, he asked, “Tell me about what you do next. Tell me everything.”

So they sat on the bench, and Zara told him about her work and her best friend Tad—whom Stephen had already met, but the two hadn’t grown close yet—and how Isaiah was coaching at a local high school and Marian was still working, still looking out for Jenny, still going to church every day. “She still loves you so much,” Zara told him. “Even when I never knew you, she’d tell me about you and how important you were to her. I—I thought I could bring you home to her.”

“You did,” Stephen pointed out, remembering all the days he’d almost died, and all the days his daughter had saved his life. His daughter.

Eventually, the bus came around the corner, and the little flying saucer at Zara’s shoulder let out a chirp. Zara’s eyes widened, and she glanced up. “I—”

“You have to go,” Stephen guessed.

“I don’t want to,” she whispered.

“I know. But if this is it, I don’t want you to have to watch it.”

Shaking her head, Zara said, “You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Stephen told her, and he meant it. Though his heart was heavy with grief, it wasn’t for him. And he knew—he was sure of it—that his family would be alright. They were strong enough to look after each other without him.

Getting to his feet, he waited until Zara did the same, then pulled her into a fierce hug. “I love you,” he told her. “And I’m proud of you. You and Isaiah, you’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

She was openly crying now, but nodded, holding him tightly for another minute. “I love you, too,” she said.

And then stepped back and the bus was there. Stephen took one last look at her, taking in every detail. At last, he turned and boarded the bus, taking a seat in the back.

It lurched into motion, and Stephen glanced out the window at the now empty bus stop. I’ll see you again, he thought. And he knew, in his heart, it was true.

Pulling out his phone, he opened up his text messages and began one to Marian.

I love you, Mari. I love the life we’ve lived together for the past twenty years. Thank you for being the best wife and friend I could have ever asked for.

Looking up, Stephen took one last look around him, and wondered what would come next. He knew more than most sitting on the bus did, and yet found himself frightened. And yet, at the same time, excited.

Whatever else happened, he was ready, with no regrets.

He sent the text.

~~~

Zara was still crying when she stumbled back into her own time, bones aching fiercely. Most trips, she’d taken a break in between, but for the past five or so, she’d gone in without stopping, time after time. Trying desperately to stop what she knew was going to happen.

It hadn’t worked.

But somehow, despite the tears and the ache in her heart, it was okay.

“Zara?”

Tad had moved to stand in front of her, face twisted with concern. “Are you okay? Or—are you hurt?”

Shaking her head, Zara took a shaking breath. “I’m okay,” she said, and he gave her an unconvinced look. “Fine, I’m not hurt. And I…” she trailed off.

“It didn’t work,” Tad said quietly. “Zee, I know you want to do this, but so many trips in a row are hurting you. And if this is so hard to stop—”

“I know,” Zara said, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’m…I’m not going in again.”

Tad’s eyes widened. “Really? I—I didn’t expect that to work.”

“It didn’t,” Zara said, and couldn’t hold back a laugh at his expression. “I…I talked to my dad. It’s okay.”

“You’re sure?” Tad said slowly. “Because five minutes ago you were very ready to keep doing this or die trying.”

Nodding, Zara swiped a hand over her face, ridding herself of the last traces of tears. “I am. I got to say goodbye, and…he’s right. I’m gonna see him again. Someday.”

Resting a gentle, if slightly awkward, hand on her shoulder, Tad nodded. “I’m glad. He’d be proud of you, Zee.”

“Thanks, Tad.” Zara took a deep breath. It was time to stop living in the past, and start looking at the new, and slightly changed present she had waiting for her.

And when the time came to see her father again, she would greet him with joy and the knowledge that she’d lived her life to the fullest, like he had. Until then, all she could do was take the first step toward doing that.

#inklingschallenge #team tolkien #inklings challenge #genre: time travel #theme: counsel #theme: comfort #story: complete #this actually turned out so much better than i thought it would #there were. some moments #but i like the vibes #also now i'm obsessed with two of these ocs and need to feature them in more content #fun fact this could and probably does exist in the same universe as my kyvis stories #which is a HILARIOUS concept that i shall have to explore more #anyway i digress #i'd apologize for how overboard i went with the playlist BUT #a) you can just ignore it if you want to #and b) it's a masterpiece and i love it so much #it's for the VIBES GUYS #and i haven't spent this long waiting to find a character that fits how do i say goodbye only to not share when i do find one #MOVING ON #writing stories is a kind of magic too

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mysticbeaver · 5 months ago

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I find it interesting that potentially NONE of the kids have any friends/acquaintances outside the cul-de-sac. I know it's only cause there was a hard-set rule of not introducing other characters, but think about it... The parents' are still mentioned, their presence (or absence) is implied throughout the show. It would make sense in the school setting for some of the kids to even casually mention someone they know in some class/school club or whatever, especially Nazz or Kevin cause they're the most likely to make easy friends, and yet they don't. Especially Kevin, who seems stuck with Rolf as his only "best bro" lol

#i remember erin fitzgerald's story of danny explaining to her that nazz couldn't be just sk8ter gurl the way erin liked #but also had to be the cheerleader #because she had to represent the various girl experiences in school #or something like that i can't remember #so maybe there's also the element of the characters having to fit in different roles to represent multiple personalities #in order to compensate for the lack of extras #on a sidenote rolf may not be the friend kevin wants but he's the one he needs #and that's gonna be better for him in the long run #sorry just some ideas i had earlier today 🥴 they sounded better when i thought of them lol

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boowoomuu · 7 months ago

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On wednesdays we miss It Lives🙏🏽🥹💚

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mamawasatesttube · 9 months ago

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started thinking of how i'd do some kind of fusion with superfam/yj and tolkien's legendarium and. well it doesn't work very well BUT i'm entranced by two concepts:

a) clois as a thingol/melian type situation, where a minor god falls in love with someone who seems lesser than him in the eyes of others, but who he loves wholly and who loves him back and inspires him and. etc. clois invented romance you get it. but also

b) vanyarin wonderfam (maybe mixed with another ainu??? see this is where it starts to get thorny w the worldbuilding). specifically i'm just thinking of glorious golden warrior cassie with the light of the trees in her eyes. you know the tolkienesque descriptors would go so hard about her.

#rimi talks #bc of who i am as a person (a house of fëanor and fingolfin lover) my first thought is to try and fit it into the first age #but i just Can't make that work plotwise bc like. theres no way the dc characters would just be background characters in the overall story #like they would be up front making changes. which means like... crossover not just fusion? but then what the FUCK does the story become #how does it remain a tragedy. does it? it loses meaning if it doesn't imo but then what the fuck. ahdgjkrejr #so maybe something second age would be better... i mean numenorean tim could be something... idk #''rimi what about kon?'' fuck if i fuckign know sjhfkjdsh

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masterfuldoodler · 2 months ago

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girlbossed too hard.... unless...

#like a lot of stuff about kh. one thing being its sprawling plot. love it all fitting together like that #anyway wanted to write a story like that. here i am with my ocs. and now im worried ive made it too confusing #1. maybe it's just because I haven't finished fixing plot holes? 2. maybe it's bc im not telling it in the right order? (random comics)#3. maybe it's because I assume ppl know more than they probably remember? 4. maybe im bad at explaining it?#anyway I talk to ppl about it and they're like ???? about things so now im like hm. i done messed up #problem is. it all makes perfect sense in my head #nomura is this how you felt? is this just the consequences of my actions??#anyway rip me. doomed to pain and suffering since the days of my youth #wanna get better at talking and expressing things but ACK. so hard!!!!#august rambles #text #you may be thinking huh?? you're expressing something rn. and yes. you see. my disease is so annoying. it is not consistent #sometimes I think about it enough i think about ways to talk about it. sometimes I think about it enough and it soaks into my life so...#someone else goes 'hey whats that?' and i go 'oh tiny info about it' as if secretly the person knew everything else because uh #i thought about it so hard. it must be common knowledge??? i don't know things other people don't??#anyway screaming crying i feel like I'm not expressing this right. doomed.

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patron-saint-of-lesbeans · 29 days ago

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I go into a video call expecting to just get information about a ‘come and see’ retreat and I end up having to speedrun coming out to a strange religious person for the third time in like two weeks.

#tower of babble #catholic #christianity #lgbt #side b #previous coming out this month has been the new spiritual director and the EI coorespondent I meet with also next week #I legit didn’t think it was gonna be a ‘Why are you attracted to religious life and are you looking at other orders?’ kinda meeting #I just wanted to know the days and times because they weren’t on the webbedsite 😭#it’s fine. leading with the ‘finding where I fit in any religious community is complicated because I’m gay’ I think is better than wasting #both our time if I’m not meant to be there. but also. ough.#it’s very clear sometimes I’m the only/first queer side b Catholic these people have ever met #so I have to do side b 101 + here’s My Story + it’s fine if you don’t wanna call me back! god bless! spiel.#this sister is the youngest of all the vocation directors I’ve spoken to so ¯\ _(ツ)_/¯ maybe that’s better maybe that’s worse.#I’ll find out next week if I can come to the retreat I guess ??? that was a little odd I thought it was a sign up and come kinda thing #not a ‘I’ll pray on this and decide for you’ kinda invitation.#edit: ALSJEBDKSEBSKEJA. I TYPW TOO DAMN FAST FOR MY BRAIN. TY ANON FOR POINTING THAT KHT

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wellzofyouth · 1 month ago

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That one post of my mine predictably aged like fine wine. Never let somebody on comic twitter in the writer's room😭😭😭 Like imagine a 1 to 1 adaptation of literally any event?? -1b at the box office. "Who are these people???"

#Anywayyy I'm writing a retelling of DC and it is honestly so fun to imagine the characters in a new but familiar light #Like the biggest reason why I was never interested in writing fanfic before 2 months ago is because I never felt like those characters were #I felt... uncomfortable writing it not because i thought fanfic was bad or anything but because I felt it was weird to write for example #“XYZ DID THIS AND DID THAT AND DID THIS” like maybe he did?? I wouldn't know I don't know him like his creator!!!#But comic characters feel like more flexible due to the many interpretations over the years but firm enough where I can decide how to take #Certain traits and minimize them or expand on them #Also 1 to 1 adaptations suck balls to write. I'm not sure if that's universal but the whole fun of writing is coming up with new ideas #Writing a straight adaptation would be kind of writing a translation into a new medium. Which isn't bad. Novelization are literally those #But a common sentiment among writers I've seen is that Novelizations aren't that fun either unless you get to experiment either #Adapting comics into a new format and retelling them is kind of hell because you have all these intersecting plotlines and insane events #That's just tangled up in a story with a timeline that literally makes its contradictions into plot lines. But it's FUN coming up with ways #To condense a character's origin and sort of rewire it into the story you want to tell. Because yeah I think a lot of people miss is #that at end of the day #you tell stories about people and their struggles. You need to find a way to fit those moments of joy sadness love.#Like a movie about Jason Todd being RH will never be emotional as Jason Todd dying because you'll have less time to feel the love and pain #that Bruce felt for him. Like sure #flashbacks and exposition but that can only go so far. At the end of the day #It will always be about RH vs Batman. That's what people came to see. But that's not all Jason is. He was Robin before he was RH. A 1 to 1 #Adaptation will never translate that to screen. Plus you (sadly) have shared universes now and a movie can only jump around in time so much #For example in my fic if I wanted to add Tim and faithful to his source material I would need to add so MUCH about Jason death #About like Bruce grieving without skipping all over that and missing the human element. It would severely mess up pacing.#I don't know i love how adaptations can make you see the characters in a new light or elevate the source material #Iwtv my beloved doesn't adapt the books exactly but reimagined in it a way that I like much more #Anyway this proves my point about comic fans being weirdly childish and omfg I hate to use this term...anti intellectual 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨#Everyone who writes or yknow reads should like understand this on a fundamental level. One to one adaptations are safe but boring.#Like the Psycho remake was bad not because it made bad changes but it barely made any changes.#Anyway watch amc iwtv to understand good adaptations better than your average comic stan on twtter #Not a rant I just love discussing adaptations #Long tags

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ganondoodle · 10 months ago

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the way i think about my stories can be so annoying bc there will be a point when i reach a certain story beat after which i dont know how to continue, and the way i do find are usually ... not good .. or i imagine it is not so i think man i cant do that thats so dumb and annoying i gotta think of something better, but then i cant come up with anything better bc once i got a solution to soemthign i cant think of anything smarter- and then i get bored of it as a whole bc man, this really was stupid from the start wasnt it

(this is all some stupid rambling and does NOT represent anythign that will happen in destiny, i swear the actual story with a proper end makes much more sense)

listen to me rambling but this morning i thought about the essentialyl non-canon good "ending" of destiny, a kind of self indulgent dumb lil alternative where everyone lives blah blah, but then of course it cant just end there, bc the end goal of the both of them is to find out the gods plan and secrets and also kill the gods, as you do, then i got a certain point that i found cool (which initially came from the whole thoguht of what if zelda game but you could play demise and it took place after the alternative ending in which the goal is to get rid of the gods) where the fight one of the gods but are kinda losing and as the god is trying to devour demise, as gods do, he abandons his body and his spirit/core, who cant exist without his body so hes still connected through the spirits tail , and climbs through the gods interdimensional weird 'mouth' while its trying to rip him apart to reach the core of the god in a last attempt to take them down with him, while hylia is fighting to keep the god from severing the thin connection he still has to his body but fails just as he reaches the core so the god is killed but his core is immediatelly starting to dissolve and hylia manages to grab his core and put it back into his body and flee from whatever is happeing to that dead god back into hyrule

he survives but is incredibly weak as his spirit has lost half of itself (blade spirits are also forged throguh sacrificing part of their spirit/core permantently but this is besides the point, none of this makes sense anyway), something he obviously hates but cant do anything about really, once a part of their core is gone its gone (not like lost energy but gone gone) but the core is also slowly dissolving further which is a death sentence with no way to act against- then theres a whole quest to .. well, stop that, while hes falling back into self hatred and fear bc hes now so weak that hylia can break his bones without any effort if she were to treat him in any way similar to before and to a deity that all their life was never so fragile, one whos most defining feature IS his power and strength to keep going no matter what, thats gotta be pretty existentially dreadful (and also its a set back to know that they cant just go fight the gods together like that, theres still two more and he cant fight like that)

then i wondered ok what if then, even if the time doesnt quite line up but at this point the entire prophecy cant be done anymore either so everythings out of order, the cloud barrier weakens and zelda is abducted (not by ghirahim) and link goes and tries to find her, but since everythigns not as it should have been he meets hylia and demise (disguised tho) and they immediately know who he is and then go along and try to help link find his friend (hylia does it bc she got the idea to make him find the triforce and wish demises spirit to be restored, since only a mortal can do that and links the most likely candidate to be able to go through the trials of it since he was supposed to already, even if the circumstances are different- demise goes along with it bc hes still trying to deal with essentially slowly dying and not knowing what to do with himself since hes afraid to get into fights or similar, much to his disdain, so hes acting like a companion of sorts, a mentor figure in a way, not knowing what hylias plan is)

i found the idea kinda interesting to have them be like a lil group that goes on links adventured with him, but with strangely intricate knowledge of how the dungeons work, link still doing the heavy lifting but them being there like parents cheering on their kid in a competetion, all the while putting the whole puzzle and dungeon aspect in a way different light bc half of them were never completed (they wanted to escape the prophecy after all) so they all work completely differently, some bosses being maybe some of the gods creatures instead (like the skysw guardians)- the mid journey point being that they find zelda, and who kidnapped her, it being one of the shiekah having most closely worked with hylia before the whole -break the prophecy- thing started (idk if it would be impa .. idea is neat) and is hellbent on making the gods plan work out like it was supposed to, kinda like the inverse of the games plot, so they got ahold of zelda as part of making her into the new hylia (despite hylia being .. right there, but they dont believe it is her truly since the true tm hylia would never betray the gods- ALSO a paralel to how the downfall of demises world worked bc his mortals turned on him after he started destroying their version of the triforce in the belief destroying it would be the only way to save mortals from going to war agaisnt each other for it over and over, mortals believing that their true deity was gone and replaced by a demon despite demise being ..right there)

after link wins the fight and frees zelda from them they in a kind of last effort to do anything against their group they stab demise, normally that wouldnt do shit against him but in his already fading away situation it basically puts him from very slowly dying to actually dying, as a reaction to it hylia kills the mortal (maybe impa idk), which is the first time she does anything like that to a mortal but i like the idea of her being actually super ruthless when it comes to things she cares about

now with a much more dire time limit hylia sends demise back to essentialyl go hide in her temple and try to not die and to trust her having a plan to make this all still work out- he does and once he is away she reveals pretyt much the entire story around why and what is happenign to link and zelda, hylia herself cant go above the clouds as the barrier is still partially up and she cant do anything to reach the triforce either - so she sends link and zelda to go do that, and it works out in the end bc even knowing the truth know, demise was with them on half of their journey so they know and care, he WILL be mad about them wasting their wish on him (even if he is still happy to be alive- i imagined scene where hes watching himself fall apart and die, alone in hylias temple, having to come to terms with the fact that after everything they had went through hed still die alone- it made me cry while thinking about it, yes, yes you are allowed to laugh)

i didnt get that much further but his spirit was essentially reset to when he was in his prime back in the day through the triforces power- something he both likes and despises, it being the gods power of all things that lets him live again, but also lol to use it agaisnt them by giving another chance to the gods greatest enemy- the next plan is of course to kill the next one of the gods but much better prepared, as they cant just go and do the same thign again (neither wants that), one idea was that hylia goes on a secret quest to try and bring back courage (the third deity that demise killed when his world was still thriving) but it involves diving back into the realm of the gods so she doesnt tell him at first, i do think theyd go together in the end, not to fight but to release courage; the whole thing is also an elaborate revenge plot of hylia, how dare the gods do that to him!!

anyway thats most of what i got from that thinking session but its so frustrating bc none of this is even in the actual comic (since it ends in a way that leads into canon skysw, this is some brain fart nooo i want blorbo to live and succeed!!) and its also convoluted and kinda dumb, the idea to inverse the games plot in a way (instead of it being ghirahim trying to bring demise back its someones plan to make the gods prophecy happen no matter what) is neat but i cant have demise almost dying be the thing THREE TIMES, it kinda undercuts his character and is way too much centered around him, all three times also more or less involving it needing help from others to get him back, when his whole thing should be being unkillable bc he jsut keeps refusing to die, also hylia is, as of now in this spaghetti derailment of random thoughts, way too much of a side character, which i dont like, and it all would make people not like demise when im trying to do the exact opposite of that in the main actual comic

i know being super self indulgent and jsut doing what you want is good for the most part but theres a point where it becomes stale cringy fantasies about my blorbo tm and i wanna write at least decent stories- in the end none of this matters anyway as the actual REAL story of destiny is already pretty long and i got no plan to write that alternative 'good ending' anyway and i mostly just thought about it bc "i dont want blorbo to die :(" and "wouldnt it be fun if the entire plot of the game would get messed up and now demise link hylia and zelda etc can all just drink tea together and make plans to get rid of the gods that wanted them all to suffer needlessly"

i probably shouldnt post this as it was really only a vent to get out dumb thoughts from my brain before they poison me into losing interest of the biggest comic project i have worked on so far but i am unable to keep these things to myself so

if you read all of this, im sorry (´。＿。｀)

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #dare i tag it as that #long post #dont read unless you want to cringe #and yes i know even bad art and stories have value #and i know im not as bad as i always think #but this really is the kind of stuff that makes me embarrassed to even be able to think #its all shortened and badly written #but some scenes i got so clearly in my head its like a movie #and those scenes make my brain go wooooooooooooooooo even if they make no sense and i cant fit them together properly #uh oh self doubt #sorry im neither a professional artist nor writer #im autistic with a blorbo and one skill that i only have bc i didnt know what to do with my brains rapid train of thoughts other than draw #big time for “oh no i made people think i am better than i actually am- i am a liar and a cheater oh god” kind of thoughts #the want to just do whatever you want VS wanting to make soemthing of value VS not wanting to embarrass yourself

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gamebunny-advance · 1 year ago

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1010 Malt Shop - Green Plushie

It's done. It's finally done. 1 week of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly blood), and he's done.

But I don't have a good enough camera nor photography skills to really capture his true charm ;w;

(Boring self reflection + more pics under the cut)

Anyway, this is the project I've been working on lately. No particular thing really prompted this. Like most things I do, it was started on a whim and finished with will power. I don't really have much experience with plush making or sewing, so despite his obvious faults, I still think he turned out pretty nicely for an amateur.

As per usual, I didn't have enough foresight to document the process, but I can nonetheless talk about the experience and point out some details of it.

Firstly, he's a pretty large lad. Here he is compared to the official DJSS plush and one of the test prints I did of "Melon Float."

Counting his straw, he's about 16 inches tall. I wasn't counting on him being so big, so I don't really know what I'm gonna do with him now...

I say this took a week, but I probably could have quartered that time if I had a working sewing machine, but since I didn't, the majority of the time was spent just sewing the thing together. (Btw, pattern over here.) The only fabric details that weren't hand-sewn are the circle/stripe details on his pants and shoes, and the bow/buttons on his shirt, which were all glued on.

The base pattern didn't come with any clothes, so I just adapted the body patterns into clothes. Structurally, he's basically wearing a second skin~ I did think about making the gloves for the sake of accuracy, but at that point, the only skin he'd be showing is his face, and I wanted to keep some soft parts out since his clothes are so stiff. They're so stiff, they can stand on their own and be stacked on top of each other without falling over.

(The plush has a harder time standing than his clothes do...)

Speaking of the clothes, let me say right now that it bothers me more than anyone else that the paint details don't color-match his pants. I was so high on the euphoria of starting this project that when I was out getting supplies, I saw some glow-in-the-dark paint and thought it'd be a great idea since he's a robot and all. The color on the bottle looked close enough at the time, and the original plan was that only the face would be painted with the other details being felt, but on top of me forgetting that effects paint takes a long time to build up layers, the green also dried differently than I thought it would, so it threw everything off, but I didn't have the patience to suck it up and repaint everything with a better color match. I did try to add a light gradient with my pastels like in the original art work, but it turned out so light that it's barely perceivable and totally not worth the clamminess I get when I touch chalk.

I think the most time-consuming part was his hair. While sewing the body together took 2 days, the clothes 2 days, and painting 1 day, the hair took about 3 as I had to figure out essentially how to do it myself on the fly. The first day was mostly trial and error. I did find a couple of online tutorials about how to get this loopy yarn hair, but the ones that I found both required tools that I didn't have. Eventually, I figured out a way to make it work, but I feel like it was less than efficient:

Basically, his hair is made with chunks of yarn that are tied together, and each chunk is individually sewn into place. I didn't count, but I think there are 13-14 hair chunks total to give him a full head. I do like how I made his bangs uneven to mimick how I draw his hair, but I couldn't quite pull off having his distinct hair-part and I couldn't figure out how to give the illusion of half his hair being straight without it looking weird. (I did try cutting the loops to let the strands be straight, but I didn't like the look of it, so I kept them all loopy).

This is a weird thing to say out of context, but I'm especially proud of the back of his head. Originally I was just going to paint on his undercut (which I'm glad I didn't because this paint REALLY hardens the cotton), so I got the bright idea to sew on individual strands of yarn for it. I think the effect is great, but I would not wish it upon my worst enemy, because to get the effect, I had to sew on each. strand. individually. The day I made the face poll, and said that was going to be a break day? I wound up doing this instead, and it took just as long to sew in those 20+ strands of yarn as it did the rest of his hair.

To segway into that poll, as you can see, I went with option 2 with some slight edits. Just the white/green eyes looked a little plain to me, so I added my usual dark pupil and added a green-star glitter to the center. I'm the one that has to live with this thing for the foreseeable future, so I made some executive decisions. Unfortunately, there were a few errors while painting, which you can clearly see in the above pictures OTL. I did try to seal off my painting areas with tape, but it still bled and stained in a few places. I don't really know if it's possible to clean the stains without ruing the rest of the face, but if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them.

There are a few extra details that I guess are worth pointing out: he's actually wired. I put in some armature wire so he'd be able to move his limbs despite the stiff felt but... I didn't secure them that well, and the wire for his arms got displaced, so I currently can't bend them ;3;. I'd have to open him up again to replace it, and I REALLY don't want to undress him again to get to his back. The worst thing about this plush is that his clothes are so stiff that he's actually very hard to dress.

The wire in his legs is mostly still in place, so he can at least (kinda) sit.

I think the last thing worth talking about is the ice cream accessory. It was really simple to make (it's just air dry clay over foil + extra pieces), but it's cute, so I wanted to point it out~

It's a hair clip, so it can be taken on and off. Theoretically, it could be worn by a person, but it's a little heavy to be wearing it all day~ The camera/lighting really blew out the colors, but I think it turned out to be a nice creamy french vanilla color like I really wanted~

Other details like the glitter on his eyes/cheeks can't really be captured on my shitty ipod camera, but rest assured that he is pleasantly sparkling~

I think my biggest takeaway from this project has been materials: I thought that using felt would be a great alternative to having to buy an entire yard of fabric for a one time project, but besides the paint, it was the hardest material to work with. If I have to pick and choose, next time I think the body will be felt, and the clothes will be cotton, or maybe I'll actually invest in some fleece, so it can be soft all the way~ Since the clothes are removable, I could theoretically make him his default sailor suit and just replace the straw with his proper hair loop to convert this into a "canon" design plush, but we'll see what the future holds. I did get the felt colors to make my *other* babygirl, but given this experience, I may hold off on making him until a much later date.

#gbunny makes #plush #nsr #no straight roads #green 1010 #1010 #1010 malt shop #short story time: so I think i've said this before #but i originally started the malt shop series because i just wanted to make a pink white!1010 and it just evolved from there #and i wanted a pink version of him because in the off chance that i ever decided to 'make' something of him #i wanted it to fit in with the rest of my things #which are mostly pink #well the day finally came when i wanted to make something #that said #i made green because 1: i thought the contrast would actually work better for my pink things #since green and pink a complimentary colors #and 2: all of green's hair accessories would give me more things to make #and thus more skills to use/improve on #since it's my first 'original' plush i wanted to practice as many techniques as possible so the next one can be even better!#this experience has taught me that i DEF need to sew in his head accessories BEFORE the hair #and if i'm going to add an undercut using this method #I also need to do that before the hair #i'm telling you. sewing the base was the easiest part #it's all the hair that was the biggest hurdle for me

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