#Working Title

[queenoftheworldisdead]

no one asked for this, but im still writing it LOL

[theweirdwaysoftheweylandsreads]

Damien looked vacantly at the computer screen before him, only the harsh blue light and the ambient glow from around the curtains to light up the little cesspit he inhabited.

Subconsciously he counted down the time he could keep the computer on. Ten more minutes, or twenty five if he skipped dinner again. It was only noodles anyway, probably better for his health if he did skip them.

The screen showed a browser, hundreds of tabs opened and never looked at. Titles like Sales Associate and Hygiene Maintenance Officer reduced to a square icon and a single letter.

Another window held his attention more now, a comment thread about the difficulty of finding work, nevermind something that would pay you enough for the commuting costs.

Damien clicked away, the despair settling into his brain like another layer of fog. His finger twitched as he dragged his attention back to the task at hand. He heard the computer gasp louder as it began trying to open the web page. He sighed, resigned to waiting for the decrepit machine to finish it's Herculean labour, knowing that trying anything else would simply delay further.

With a final high pitched whir, the page loaded, and Damien was surprised to see it wasn't another advert. It was a thread, six months old and with no comments or interaction. Strangely it was still active. The message was simple.

HELP WANTED. Flexible hours, cash in hand, UrbEx. Not animal related. Ask for Chloe.

Below that was an address for Big Mike's Pet Shop. It was in the city, and only a couple of blocks away. Curiosity tugged at Damian for the first time in months. I've already sent off a couple of applications today, he reasoned to himself. And getting outside would help the seasonal depression, he had been told.

Damien opened the door to the city. The diffuse light still stung his eyes, and the late autumn winds buffeted his face, chilling his nose and causing the polyester of his coat to rasp against his scraggly facial hair. The street was full of people, looking down or looking past, trapped in a bubble of their own immediate needs. Damien trudged into the flow of people, heading towards a sea of grey towers and his destination.

Big Mike's Pet Shop occupied a small square of the ground floor of one of these towers. The display window was grimy and the inside looked positively claustrophobic with aisles and various pet toys. Damien walked around the block twice before he managed to enter the store.

The bell dinged as he entered, and he was hit with the smell immediately. A combined odour of fresh sawdust and the musk of a hundred different animals. The sound too was almost a cacophony. Birds tweeting, dogs yapping and a variety of others drowned out into pure noise.

He nearly backed out right then, but steeled himself as the smell faded into the background and the noise subsided slightly. He headed deeper into the store, towards the counter he had glimpsed from outside.

Rounding a corner made entirely of cat trees, he was suddenly in front of said counter, looking down at a young woman, scrolling on her phone. She noticed him after an uncomfortable moment and looked up. Blonde hair, straw-like from too much bleach hung in a frame around a tired and acne scarred face. Brilliant turquoise eyes bore deep holes into Damien before she glanced away. The last piece of the puzzle was the big red fleece she wore, the Big Mike's logo, a cartoon banana, embroidered on the front.

Damien stood, unable to send the signals to his brain to open his mouth. The woman looked at him again, quizzically. A long moment stretched out.

"Can I help you find something for your..." She trailed off, looking him over more thoroughly. "... Hamster?"

That seemed to break the spell and his mouth began flapping, trying to sift through backed up signals and new ones concurrently.

"ye... Or no. I. Um. No hamster..." He floundered. "I am looking for Chloe." He had practiced that on the way here.

She seemed to gain confidence with a clearer goal.

"Yeah, er I'm Chloe, how can I help?" She tapped a name badge that Damien hadn't noticed. The name read "Grace". Damien frowned, but his mouth answered the question before he could ask.

"there was a job notice. An old one. It's probably filled now. It mentioned Urban Exploration..." He trailed off again.

"Oh you're here for that. Perfect, it's still open." She fished around under the counter for a pen and paper. "Meet me here, at this time tonight if you're still interested. Think of it as a trial shift. Bring gloves." She handed him the note, he mumbled a thanks and hurried out of the store.

Only outside did he think to read the note, or wonder to ask the questions that had suddenly risen to the surface. He turned around to go back inside, then turned again and hurried home.

[dev-posting]

first two pages of my comic about climate disaster and remembering to love and fight for what is left

[denimbex1986]

'EXCLUSIVE: Focus Features has snapped up U.S. rights to Working Title and Studiocanal’s WWII drama-thriller Pressure, about the build-up to the historic Normandy Landings.

The multi-million dollar deal includes a strong theatrical commitment, we understand, with Studiocanal continuing sales this week at the AFM. The European studio will handle the movie’s release in its territories...

Cameras are still rolling in the UK on Pressure, which stars Andrew Scott, Brendan Fraser, Kerry Condon, Chris Messina and Damian Lewis.

The true story will see All of Us Strangers and Ripley star Scott play Britain’s Chief Meteorological Officer James Stagg, whose job it was to inform Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower (Fraser) of weather conditions that would make or break their Normandy invasion. The complex decision-making was critical in the fate of WWII and the course of history.

Anthony Maras (Hotel Mumbai) is directing. Olivier Award winner David Haig and Maras wrote the screenplay based on Haig’s critically lauded play, which explores the personal and military stresses on Stagg and how tensions grew between the teams with different weather forecasts for the date of the proposed D-Day. The film will concentrate on the pressure cooker of the decision-making but also capture the scale of the landings.

The synopsis reads: “In the seventy two hours leading up to D-Day, all the pieces are in place except for one key element – the British weather. Britain’s chief meteorological officer James Stagg (Andrew Scott) is called upon to deliver the most consequential forecast in history, locking him into a tense standoff with the entire Allied leadership. The wrong conditions could devastate the largest ever seaborne invasion, while any delay risks German intelligence catching on.

“With only his trusted aide Captain Kay Summersby (Kerry Condon) to confide in, and haunted by a catastrophic D-Day rehearsal, the final decision rests with Supreme Allied Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower (Fraser). With only hours to go, the fate of the war and the lives of millions hang in the balance.”...'

[bluejulius]

Lads am I cooked??

Enjoy this little thing I wrote! I’m not the best writer but it uses my hand better than drawing, so might do more in the future! To the 5 Eretolout fans, please let me know what you think!

[hazel0bite]

Preptober 2024 - Day 16

16. What is your working title?

I changed the title from Close to the Wind to Between Wind & Water.

Close to the Wind sounds nice but is actually kind of a bad thing (it means coming to a stop by sailing directly into the wind) which wasn’t the vibe I was going for.

Between Wind & Water is the area on the side of a ship that is brought above and below the water line by the movement of the ship.

Anyway, it’s a whole metaphor because Nic is from the land (wind) and Ben is from the sea (water) and the story is told by switching between both perspectives etc.

Updated the cover:

[yojabari]

The Substance by Siddharth Vinod

[deliciouswhisperssheep]

I am just over 6000 words into my first draft outline for my OC isekai/self-insert One Piece fanfic. I'm not even remotely close to being done with this one and it's just a brief overview of the plot broken up into arcs.

The next one is going to break up each arc into a detailed outline by chapter so I shudder to think about home much work I have to do before I even get to the writing of my chapters proper.

I knew this was gonna be a hulking mass of a project but my god. This is gonna take a while.

[explosive-glass-art]

Wowza kremy is a shrimp (he makes the best fryed rice)

I know the snake is eating the bird or whatever but I like to interpret it as the snake saving the bird from falling

So I took that and made it about when Kremy met Gideon ✨

+plus GOD I scrumched kremy tf is that pose

[johnnymara]

[the-nucowboy]

Mouse 1

In the night,

On worn out boards

The mice will try with all they might,

To sneak with quiet words,

For as they heist, pious they,

The little mice do hope and pray,

A safe passage across the land.

But midnight does awake the cat:

The Duke and Second-Hand,

And as he prowls, he observes all but this and that.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 3

Summary: Drama continues at camp, following almost directly along with S1 E3

Relationship: Daryl & Reader, Shane x Reader

first warning of this multi-chapter series: Age gap relationship (not Daryl & fmc)

other notes: By now if you're still reading this, you've probably noticed I'm a heavy dialogue writer. I love dialogue. That's just my style and I don't plan on changing it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lmk your thoughts :)

The guys at camp are packing up the car, getting ready to head into Atlanta. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the women at camp staring at you from the RV. Huffing, you turn back to Daryl. "What's the deal with everyone here?" you ask.

Daryl shakes his head, mumbling that he doesn’t care. You shift your gaze to the firepit, absently digging your boot into the dirt.

After spending a few hours around camp, it’s clear to you who’s close, who’s just friends, and who’s on the outskirts. You glance up and spot Carol sitting with her husband and daughter. Her husband gives you the creeps—something about the way he looked at you earlier. Carol, though, seemed sweet, even if she was quiet. You figure in time, she might open up to you. The sisters, Andrea and Amy, were fine, but Amy’s remark about Merle left a bad taste in your mouth. You couldn’t really blame her, though. Merle was a jackass, the way he spoke to people was downright unbearable at times. But you and Daryl knew a different side of him, as much as Merle let anyone know him. He wasn’t always like that. As a kid, he’d been funny, even sweet. But their father ruined him. Then, Merle left, abandoning you and Daryl to face that monster on your own. Your mom was so absent even when she was in your childhood home, so you found sanctuary in the Dixon house. Or maybe it was just a sanctuary wherever Daryl was. 

The person at camp you couldn’t quite decipher was the woman you found out was Rick’s wife. You were never really around Shane’s friends or spent much time around anyone he knew when you two were together. You might have seen a photo of Lori somewhere with their son Carl, but you never met them. She was…distant. Friendly to your face but short and tense from the few minutes of chatting with them while things got packed up. 

Rick calls out to Daryl, causing you to get up and brush off your pants, following him over to the van.

“You’re stayin here,” Shane says as you approach.

“Like hell I am,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “Merle’s as much my family as he is Daryl’s.”

“You are not leaving this camp for a douche bag like Merle Dixon,” he growls at you, pointing at Daryl with an accusatory finger. 

“You better choose yer words more wisely,” Daryl snaps.

“No, I did. Douchebag is what I meant,” Shane retorts.

You can’t help but feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, though you quickly stifle it.

Daryl grunts. “I don’t want ‘er outta my sight again, Walsh.” His voice is rough, full of warning.

“Oh yeah, out of your sight, Dixon. When’s the last time you saw her anyway? How many years has it been? When she left for college?” he spits.

Daryl bristles, charging at Shane with his fists clenched. You quickly step between them, holding your hands up.

“Daryl, please,” you say softly, locking eyes with him. “It’s fine. I’ll stay. It’s not a big deal.”

But you’re lying—to Daryl and to yourself. The last thing you wanted was to be left behind. It had been so long since you’d seen Daryl, since you were partners in crime. Truth be told, you didn’t want him out of your sight either. But you knew going to Atlanta was dangerous. You weren’t good with a gun, and you’d only hold them back if things went sideways.

Rick approaches as the others start gathering to leave. You turn away from Daryl, facing Shane.

“I’ll stay. But you,” you jab your finger in Shane’s chest, “you’ve got some explaining to do.”

As the group heads out, you feel the weight of unresolved tension settling over camp. Shane is clearly frustrated with Rick taking such a big part part of the group into Atlanta, while Daryl is with them, fuming about something—whether it’s you, Shane, or just the world at large, you can’t tell.

“Them walkers are gettin closer and closer to camp,” Shane sighs, running his hands over his face.

“Walkers?” you ask, in stride with him. 

“That’s what we’ve been callin’ ‘em,” he says, not looking at you, his tone gruff. He stops walking for a moment, hands on his hips, staring out into the distance. Then, almost reluctantly, he glances back at you. "Alright, spit it out."

You blink, caught off guard. “Spit what out?”

“How’d you end up here? With Daryl?” you demand, your frustration bubbling over. “No one’s telling me anything. I’m just some redneck girl who walked out of the woods with an angry Daryl Dixon, and everyone’s acting like that’s all I am.”

Shane looks at you, then away, clearly uncomfortable. “Can we do this later?” he mumbles, his eyes already darting elsewhere.

Before you can press him, a young voice cuts through the tension. “Shane! Show me how to find the frogs!” You both turn to see Rick’s son, Carl, wiping his eyes as he comes out of his tent. His mother stands in the doorway, her own eyes red and puffy.

Shane’s expression softens as he looks at Carl. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he looks back at you. “I’ve got a date with some frogs,” he says, walking away without waiting for a response.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flashback x

Your first date with Officer Shane was the most romantic date you’d ever been on. Not that he had much competition—most of your dates had been with high school boys taking you to the lake, their grubby hands creeping under your shirt after a couple of beers. Or they always ended up fleeing once they realized your best friend was Daryl Dixon, who was always nearly in Merle's shadow back then. But Shane was different. He picked you up at 8 p.m. on a Saturday, that shy smile playing on his lips. You could’ve sworn there was a twinkle in his eye when he looked at you. His truck was the cleanest, shiniest vehicle you’d ever stepped foot in, and the new car smell hit you the moment you slid into the passenger seat. Shane leaned over, gently grabbed your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes glancing up at you.

“I’m happy you came out tonight,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You blushed, shrugging, “Got nothin’ better goin’ on.”

He chuckled, putting the truck in reverse. “I’m sure you and Dixon would’ve gotten up to some kinda trouble.” You smiled at the thought as he backed out of the driveway of your childhood trailer home.

Shane drove you into the heart of Georgia farmland, where the night was quiet, the air crisp, and the sky clear. The truck eventually pulled off the road into an open field, and you glanced over at him, curious. He just smiled, that broad, confident grin of his, and stepped out. You watched him round the front of the truck, opening your door with an old-fashioned charm no boy had ever shown you before. He extended his hand, and you slid out of the passenger seat, your hand in his, warmth spreading up your arm from his firm grip.

Okay, a hot gentleman, you thought, fighting back a grin.

He didn’t let go of your hand as he led you around to the back of the truck. Your steps faltered when you saw what he’d set up. A wide smile spread across your face. The truck bed was transformed—a soft blanket laid out, pillows scattered around, snacks arranged neatly, and a bottle of wine nestled in a basket. Two glasses sat nearby, everything perfectly strapped down with bungee cords. You turned back to Shane, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of it all.

He was watching you, his warm gaze never leaving your face, his hand still holding yours.

“What do you think?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.

“I love it,” you whispered back, beaming up at him.

An hour later, you found yourself sitting between Shane’s legs, leaning against the back of the truck. His arm rested around you, his fingers absently stroking your hair while his other hand held a glass of wine. The night was peaceful, the air cool, and the sky scattered with stars.

“What’s your job like?” you asked with a playful smile, looking up at him.

He chuckled. “My job?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I’m the deputy for King County State Police, little lady.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “So what’s it like?”

He thought for a moment, taking a sip of the deep red wine. “A lot of it is pretty boring,” he admitted. “The serious stuff? It’s just about good judgment—keeping people safe.”

“I can’t wait to get a real job. A career ,” you sighed, staring up at the sky.

Shane glanced down at you, curiosity in his eyes. “What’s your plan?”

You thought about it, your mind wandering past the obvious desire to get out of this town. When you really pictured your life in the next few years, it was more than just leaving.

“I want to help people,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of those words as they hung in the air. Shane’s hand stilled in your hair, and you felt his gaze on you, waiting for you to continue. You took a deep breath. “I’d love to be a part of the Red Cross. Be sent out to disasters, help those who need it the most. But first, I want to go to college… if I can.”

“You can,” he said softly. “You will.”

You leaned your head back against his chest, looking up at the stars, then back at him. The sky was lit with a million specks of light, vibrant colors streaking through the black night. It took your breath away.

“So beautiful,” you breathed out, marveling at the sight.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes locked on you instead of the sky.

Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flash forward x

You walk down to the quarry, the crystal blue water glimmering under the sunlight. Thoughts of Daryl leaving angrily in the van flash through your mind—he barely looked at you today. Something was different. The last time you’d seen him, things hadn’t exactly been good between you two. Back when the world was still normal, you hadn’t spoken for months, maybe longer. But even then, Daryl would never turn his back on you. Today, though, it was like you were just some nobody he found wandering in the woods.

The women are gathered by the water, washing boards in hand, while Shane and Carl splash around near the rocks, laughing. The women talk about the things they miss from before—cars, coffee makers…

“Hey,” you greet quietly, stepping behind them.

Carol glances up with a warm smile. “Hey, come join us,” she says, waving you over. Jaqui, a slender woman with short black hair, dark skin, and kind eyes, scoots over to make room between her and Amy. Carol hands you an extra wash basin and board, her smile soft but welcoming.

You sit quietly with them as they chat, lost in their conversation. Your eyes keep drifting over to Shane, and every once in a while, you catch him glancing back at you, his expression unreadable. You watch as Lori also makes her way down the hill into the quarry, hands on her hips, visibly annoyed. You shake your head, but your ears prick at the sound of the women giggling around you.

“I miss my vibrator,” Andrea says, breaking the quiet. Laughter erupts from the group, and Carol looks around sheepishly. “Me too,” she admits, and the laughter intensifies. You all dissolve into giggles.

Then, heavy footsteps approach from behind, and Ed’s voice cuts through the laughter. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his tone laced with irritation.

“Just swappin’ war stories, Ed,” Andrea replies smoothly, her eyes flicking to yours before returning to her washing. You sigh inwardly—Ed’s not exactly the company you were hoping for. You glance back over to Shane, who’s now deep in a hushed, heated conversation with Lori. She’s pushing at him, clearly angry about something. Your brow furrows. What’s going on between them? You’d think they’d be in better spirits, now that Rick’s back, not to mention Shane’s girlfriend standing right here.

Shane watches Lori turn and head back up the hill, and you watch him, your thoughts spinning. The voices of the women around you escalate, drawing your attention back to them as they crowd around Carol, now standing. Ed’s mood has shifted from irritation to outright anger. He’s yelling something about "prodding the bull," and before you know it, he slams his fist into Carol’s face.

You lunge forward, catching Carol as she crumples into your arms. Shock surges through you, but before you can react, Shane is suddenly there, ripping Ed away from her. His fists crash into Ed’s face, over and over, each punch landing with a sickening thud.

“Shane, please! Shane!” you shout, grabbing his shoulders. He hesitates, pulling back, his breath ragged as he wipes his bloodied knuckles across his sweat-soaked forehead.

You stumble back, wide-eyed and shaken. Ed’s moans mix with Carol’s sobs, the air thick with tension and fear.

[guppygiggles]

Alright, so...

For a while, I've been wanting to start an AU where all of my characters (As of writing: Casper, Avery, Finnegan (formerly Fishper), Darkside (name rework pending), and Null (complete redesign pending)) can interact. Below is a preview of that!

I am still planning on continuing my main fic with Casper + Avery (Like Real People Do), so don't worry that I have abandoned that project! I just wanted more creative freedom in terms of using my characters, so this AU is just meant to be a framework for that. This is meant to be more episodic, rather than a linear story like my fic.

The way Casper and Avery meet in this AU is the same as in my fic, although the world itself is quite different. Unlike the main story, in this universe there are many non-human races other than cloud elementals.

I don't have a lot of the other details fleshed out yet, but I wrote a short fic below to formally introduce Fishper (whose name going forward will be Finnegan) and kind of allude to the relationship dynamics between him, Avery, and Casper.

That was probably more explanation than was needed. Oops! Anyway --

LOTS OF TICKLES AHEAD! Enjoy! 💙

+++++

"Hey, why do you call me that?"

"Hm? Call you what?"

"Fishper. I mean, not that I don't like it, but... I have a name."

We sat on the end of the pier, legs dangling between the wooden slats of the guardrail. Far beyond Avery's lighthouse, the sun was just starting to sink below the horizon, painting the summer sky in shades of pink and orange. It was difficult to believe that just a year ago, I had crashed my skateboard into the same railing, leading to my chance encounter with the cloudman.

Though the world was filled with all kinds of non-human races -- I was sitting next to a triton, after all -- it was the first time I'd ever met an elemental, especially one like him. Prior to meeting Avery, I'd never even heard of cloudfolk. I'd mostly kept company with other humans until that day; since then, I'd become acquainted with all kinds of races, including merfolk like Fish. The scaly humanoid had washed up on the rocky outcropping around Avery's lighthouse during a particularly bad storm, and had been taken in by the elemental until he recovered. What could I say -- the gentle scientist was practically a magnet for those in need! We'd only known each other for about a month, but the excitable guppy and I had become fast friends.

"Well, you couldn't speak for the first few days after we found you, so... I had to call you something! It was really Avery's idea, though; he said you were just like me, so he gave you a name like mine. You could've told me sooner that you had a name, though! What is it?" I turned to look at him. He was grinning, swinging his legs in time with the flopping of his huge tail against the pier's wooden boards. I was a little embarrassed that I knew almost nothing about his race; only that some non-human races didn't use traditional names, so I figured it was possible he didn't have one.

"Ehehe, I just liked that you gave me a nickname! My real name is Finnegan, but most people just call me Finn."

"Awww, that's cute! Very fitting for you, too." I smirked, reaching over to give a light tickle to his finned ear. He squealed, shaking his head as his ears fluttered.

"Eee-HEEE! Hehey!"

I snickered. He was great to play with; very sensitive, with big, bubbly reactions. His scales were soft, supple, and surprisingly warm to the touch. I never would've expected a fish to be cuddly, but as of the past week, he'd been sneaking into mine and Avery's bed at night for a snuggle when he couldn't sleep. Insomnia -- like many things, we shared that, too.

"What's wrong? I thought you liiiiiked being tickled~" I teased, sneaking a finger under his arm and wiggling a bit. He laughed, then -- loud and clear, his high, giggly howling riding above the sound of the waves. He flopped back onto the pier, squirming as I readjusted my position to get a better angle on him.

"EHEH-HEE!" He screeched as my fingers danced gently along his ribcage. Despite all his flailing, he did little to try and stop me.

"This shirt looks familiar. Oh, wait. That's because it's my shirt! You stole my clothes out of the dryer again, didn't you!" I admonished playfully, sliding my hands under his -- MY -- shirt to tickle his pale, soft belly. Given that it was the most tender spot on him (and the most ticklish, as far as I could tell), I took particular care not to hurt him, my fingertips lightly spidering over the surface as if gliding on ice.

He was quickly in hysterics, wriggling beneath my fingers like a... well. Like a fish!

"AHAHA-HEEE! I DOHOHOOO!"

"You do what, ticklefish?" I asked, grinning as I gently pinched along his sides.

"I-EHEEEE! I LIHIHIKE T-TIHIHICKLES!"

I blushed. I'd never known Finn to be shy... after all, he offered very little resistance when tickled, and had always seemed to enjoy it... but I wasn't expecting an outright admission. How did he do that...? Unprompted, and while being tickled, no less!

It took me a moment to realize I had stopped tickling, and he was staring at me, tears in the corners of his yellow eyes.

"Why'd you stop?" He asked, a curious smile showing off his jagged teeth. They were more than a little crooked, lending him an air that was a bit goofy, rather than menacing as most triton tended to be. The end of his tail wagged, thumping repeatedly against the wood.

"You want me to keep going...?" I asked, staring down at him with raised brows... and an affectionate smile of my own. Who could resist that?

"Ehehe, yeah! It's fun!" He raised his arms high and laid back, giving me full access to his torso, and making me blush even more. What kind of society had he grown up in, to foster such boldness?! I choked back my own fluster, trying to look impish and intimidating. I was the ler, after all... I couldn't fold over a little unexpected compliance!

"Alright, fishflake, you asked for it... literally." I giggled in spite of myself; it was too hard not to. Finn didn't seem to mind, though. He giggled right back, which was a relief, for me -- gosh, he was easy.

I lifted his -- again, my! -- shirt up, this time, exposing his belly to the dying light. The stars had begun to appear, and Avery would be expecting us home, soon.

"Last tickle, okay? This belly of yours needs dinner, soon," I said, gently patting his belly to the tune of more happy tittering. Then I went to work, skittering my digits all over his tummy again. I didn't spare his navel that time, either; my fingertip wiggled right into it, causing him to emit a gleeful shriek as he kicked his scaly feet.

"AAAAHAHA-HEEHEEEE!"

He squirmed, but it was easy to follow his movements, as his intention clearly wasn't to squirm away. My hands moved from the center of his belly to his sides, then began to crawl upward, counting along his ribs.

"How many ribs does a fish have? Maybe we should count and see."

"EEEEEE! I DOHOHNT KNOHOWWW!"

"One, two, three... oops! I lost count. Can't you stay still? Now I have to start over!"

"AAAHEHEE! I CAHAHAHAN'T!"

"Ooooone, twoooo, threee..." As I counted each rib, I lightly wiggled each one with the pads of my fingertips. This got plenty of howling from him -- it was a good thing we were alone on the pier, otherwise I was sure his loud cackling would have been quite the spectacle!

Despite how it clearly tickled, Finn somehow managed to keep his arms up. I had to hand it to him... he was even more resilient than me!

"How about here, Finny~?" I taunted, suddenly jumping from his ribs to his armpits. They were nearly as soft as his belly, pale and smooth beneath my whirling fingertips.

He squawked again, followed by a gale of laughter, his body tossing back and forth against the pier. To my astonishment... he still kept his arms up!

"Tickle, tickle... Cooooooochie coo, ticklefish! You're just ticklish all over, aren't you?" I continued to tease, giggling as he laughed uproariously, his gamine face flushed dark green with laughter. Slowing to a stop, I reached up and took his hands, pulling his arms down and helping him to sit up. He looked a bit dizzy, a tickle-drunk grin on his face. I chuckled, ruffling his hair.

"Come on, Avery's probably waiting to pick us up. If we don't hurry, I'm sure there will be a serious tickling for both of us after dinner." I shivered at the thought of an Avery tickling, getting to my feet and pulling Finn up with me. He wobbled a bit, and then righted himself, giggling.

"Ehehehe... that's fine by me~!"

[heavy-nfld]

SHOW ALERT: The Bombed Solid, Sweet Baby Angels, Book Club, and Working Title @ Pavlov’s Electric Verandah - Friday, July 26th, 2024. Show at 10:00 PM. $10 cover. 19+.

[itsallmadonnasfault]

M Untitled Who's That Girl

[stars-n-spice]

Trying Something - "BTB" Pilot Start

What's this?? Max actually starting on a project??

Lmao, let's pray I follow through with this one because I realize now how much work it'll actually be. Oh well!

Anyways, had this idea to do a Clone Wars era mockumentary sitcom and write actual scripts for this hypothetical show for fun and also to practice screenwriting since that's my major and I could use the practice.

The working title is currently "Behind the Barracks" but I am open for suggestions!!

Do I know where I'm going with this? No. Absolutely not.

But it's fun!

Anyways, enjoy these first couple of pages of the pilot episode I'm currently writing :)

The format might be,, strange to anyone who is familiar with how scripts work (specifically the single-cam tv format) but I'm using StudioBinder's script writing service (which is a little wonky) because the other script services I know of cost money and I'm a broke college student-

That being said, if anyone knows of any free script writing programs (?) I would greatly appreciate it if you let me know about them <33 Please and thank you!

Anyways, hope you enjoyed that little bit of the pilot!

If you would like to be on a tag list for the full pilot once it's finished, let me know!