#cadence is making stuff

[carouselunique]

They had a bit of a chance encounter on a day where Blueblood was dealing with something that was very difficult and was so caught up in his emotions he didn’t even care that he was in the garden getting grass stans on his coat and Ditzy, with her natural impulse to cheer ponies up, didn’t even notice or care that she was flying into the palace gardens when she saw someone sat in the rain.

At first he was definitely going to call the castle guards to come apprehend this strange filly with the odd eyes who was intruding when this was the last moment he’d want to entertain any desperate debutantes, however she surprised him by not fawning or anything, not even caring about his status, just putting one of her fluffy wings up and asking if he needed somepony to lend an ear.

“Don’t let my eyes fool you, my ears work just fine!”

She was incredibly disarming and while he didn’t reveal everything about why he was upset, he found himself talking about his feelings to her. And she made such cheerful remarks, and was very comforting. In the end, he felt better and she came to check on him the next day, even sharing a blueberry muffin with him. He remarked that he’d never seen her around before, and that he wouldn’t mind terribly seeing her more often.

The rest, as they say, is history.

[authenticcadence18]

On today’s episode of “here’s why the website formerly known as Twitter is broken” apparently users you have blocked will be able to see your posts again soon, just not interact with them???

DOES THAT NOT DEFEAT THE POINT OF BLOCKING????????

[retaurd]

please specify in tags whether or not anyone in your family does this, if you do mimicry and/or impersonation, when/why/what kinds of voices and noises you do. and anything else you want to include

[frostbite-the-bat]

DJ CADENCE IN THE HOUSE!!!

[some-stars]

the fics i'm working on are SO good in every possible way except being funny. i am so fucking shit at this style of humor. like i'm decent to great at everything else and it's all totally in character, but the jokes are just not coming...i'm gonna be the only unfunny deadpool BNF :(

[wundrousarts]

An underrated aspect of drawing 919 I forgot to mention in my last post: have you ever wondered why I have a tendency sometimes to draw the Wunsoc sweaters as somewhat large and baggy? I think it’s fun to imagine that they might grow into them, just as they’ll “grow into” their role in the Society :)

[forcedhesitation]

*wheeze* slowly, but surely, working on art of them all

[intertexts]

taking the cowards path & avoiding my enemy the walled mart....... -_-

[corset]

I realized I have been having more of the variety of stress dream where in the dream I have an Extreme Autistic Meltdown. Like a very very bad meltdown where I am just shrieking and hurting myself and throwing things and I feel like I am literally about to die and then I wake up shaking with a headache and basically I think masking and not having my needs met and feeling alienated constantly in my daily life is starting to have some Effects. hahaha.

[cadencewishes]

⁑✩ youtube / spotify / instagram / tiktok

♡WHO IS CADENCE'S WISHES?

♡MY ORIGINAL SONGS

♡MY LATEST COVER

☆MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL

☆MY INSTAGRAM

☆MY SPOTIFY

[authenticcadence18]

WHAT IF I CRIED OVER THE DIPPER AND PHINEAS LISTENING TO BABBA ART WHAT THEN

[monty-glasses-roxy]

There's something delightfully fucked up about somehow binding people's consciousness to animatronics and then taking that a step further to turn part of your spirit or whatever into code to gain another form of immortality. I also Really dig the idea of Glitchtrap killing OG Afton - almost something poetic about the shift of power from Afton being killed by his own OpenAi-Powered fursona for me. But I guess he probably canonically died in Pizza Sim.

I like Help Wanted+SB era FNAF a lot more than the older games, but there's so many interesting things to carry forward from the old stuff too. My city now.

Oh that would be a hell of a narrative play for him to die like that ngl

But yeah. Our city now lmao

[laundrybiscuits]

Surprise, I finished the MLP GURPS ficlet with another thousand or so words of absolutely saccharine fluff, and put it up on AO3!

@so-intoxigayted and @singmeyoursimpsong have asked to be tagged about this ficlet. FYI, pretty much everything I'm writing makes its way to AO3 before too long, so subscribing there's the most reliable way to get general updates; I also can't promise I'll remember to tag people in future, because I legit almost forgot this time.

[kandicon]

One of these days I'll write that 100k Cozy Glow/Flurry Heart slow burn fic that plagues my brain

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Cadence

(A/N: The cadence used here is the Helljumper cadence from Halo aka ‘helljumper, helljumper, where you been?’ I’ve never been able to figure out what goes down between Islanzadi and Arya after Arya gets back with Eragon and co., but I know that it would not be a ‘all is forgiven’ type thing. Islanzadi refuses to accept any responsibility and Arya is done giving a shit about what Izzy wants. So things aren’t all hunky-dory between them right off the bat. 

Arya’s open to some reconciliation, but she has boundries and isn’t going to accept being talked down to or used as political fodder. Islanzadi needs to learn to talk to her daughter as equals, and sometimes a grumpy old man can help just by stating the obvious.)

~~~~

MODERN INHERITANCE: CADENCE 

Islanzadí leaned her elbows on the knotted railing and stared out through the expanse of pines. It was still dark, the barest edge of light detectable to the east as dawn considered its approach. Despite the darkness, the queen could see everything clearly, down to the scatterings of bark below the massive trees and the needles that graced the forest floor. 

She wasn’t usually up at this hour. Islanzadí preferred to rise with the sun and greet the day with warmth on her face, accompanied by a mug of tea and fresh toast. The occasional paperwork or reading that followed were much easier to greet that way.

Others, though, seemed to prefer this hour for waking. The voices were quiet but unmistakable, coming closer and bouncing through the trees before being absorbed by the mist that clung to the ground. One would call and the other would respond, a perfect two person cadence.

“Wolfcat, wolfcat, where you been?”

“Wolfcat, wolfcat, where you been?”

“Dash down through the hells and back again!”

“Dash down through the hells and back again!”

Islanzadí couldn’t help but shake her head slightly, a little grin twitching the corners of her lips. They both had picked up so much over the years, becoming more human than elf in some respects. The smile fell when she remembered it used to be three voices, a twinge of near guilt remembering when it had been only one in the past months.

“When I die please bury me deep!”

“When I die please bury me deep!”

“Put my B85 down by my feet!”

“Put my B85 down by my feet!”

“Why the hell does she insist on doing this every bloody morning?” The queen looked over to find a haggard looking Brom trudging towards her, steaming mug of coffee in one hand and customary morning scowl on his face. 

Islanzadí turned her nose up at the pungent smell of half burnt brew as Brom joined her at the railing and ignored the man’s slurp and quiet curse at the scalding liquid. “It’s your fault she’s like this.” The elf replied. Her tone was light, almost joking, but the edge was unmistakable. “You took my daughter and brought me back a soldier.” 

Brom’s scowl deepened. “Majesty, with all due respect, don’t start with that till I’ve had three more of these and a good five hours of sunlight.” He risked another sip, tongue already burned. 

“Don’t cry for me, don’t shed no tear!”

“Don’t cry for me, don’t shed no tear!”

“Just pack my box with my PT gear!”

“Just pack my box with my PT gear!”

The line reminded Islanzadí of why she initially came out in the first place. “Has Arya had any physical therapy since she arrived back with the Varden?” Still far in the distance, Islanzadí tracked the two shadows jogging through the mist. “I saw some of her scars. Her movement must be restricted.”

Brom gave a negative grunt, peering into his mug. The steam was enough of a pick-me-up for now. “Ask her yourself. She’ll tell you.”

“We’re not…there yet.” The bark along the railing crackled as the queen tightened her grip. Brom was one of the few people that could be so curt with her without reprimand. He had earned as much over the years, and to be completely frank, Islanzadí preferred his blunt honesty in private over his polite respect in public. “She acts like nothing happened. But she still won’t talk to me.” She gave a hollow laugh. “We exchanged more than six sentences yesterday. That was the most we’ve said to each other all week.”

“She’s not the talk about feelings type.” Brom took another cautious sip and, finding that his brew had cooled to a bearable level, gulped down half the mug. “Have you tried hitting her?” 

“Have I what?”

“One early morning ‘bout zero-five!”

“One early morning ‘bout zero-five!”

“Ground will rumble, lightning in the sky!”

“Ground will rumble, lightning in the sky!”

Brom gestured with his mug. “Sparring. Arya’s a bit more receptive when she’s fighting.” He shrugged. “Or you could just maybe…talk to her.”

Islanzadí massaged the bridge of her nose, frustration growing. “I just told you, I’ve tried, Brom.”

“Then stop trying. Talk to her like anyone else.” The Rider knocked back the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the acrid taste of grounds at the bottom. “Actually, don’t do that. That will make it worse. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

“How will that help?”

Brom leaned on the railing next to the queen. “She’s not as fragile as you think, Iz. She hates formality, and you’re trying too hard to fix everything in an instant.” He nodded out to the mists. “Let her go at her own pace, talk things out naturally. Don’t try to sit her down and talk about Gil’ead, or Fäolin, or the war, just…ask her what she’s been up to.” Brom suddenly chuckled. “Ask her what it was like trying to wrangle Eragon and Saphira in Tronjheim.” 

“Don’t you worry, don’t come undone!”

“Don’t you worry, don’t come undone!”

“It’s just my ghost on a PT run!”

“It’s just my ghost on a PT run!”

Arya and Glenwing emerged from the fog, jogging side by side. Their backpacks were laden with weights, muffled and wrapped in blankets, the burden an old equalizer from their time training alongside Varden recruits. With the cadence ended, both were letting out short, huffed breaths. It was evident they had been at this a while, sweat dripping down their necks. 

Glen suddenly jabbed his commanding officer with his metal elbow. “I’m beating you this time!” He took off at a sprint, aiming for the two banner draped pines that heralded the edge of Ellesméra’s training fields. 

“Oh, like hell you are!” Arya bolted after him, the scowl at her lips offset by the wild glee alight in her eyes. 

Brom shook his head. “There they go.”

Islanzadí leaned over the railing to watch the end of the race. Glen looked to be a clear lock for victory, his bionic prosthetic and remaining arm pumping hard as he neared the finish line. Arya wasn’t all that far behind, and, with a yell, yanked the release straps on her pack. It dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Free from its extra weight, Arya suddenly leapfrogged over the medic’s head with a quick “Alley-oop!” 

Thrown off balance, Glenwing plowed face first into the dirt just inches away from the goal. His muffled, exasperated laughter floated on the mist to the balcony where Islanzadí and Brom watched them, Arya jogging in circles around her fallen friend with fists raised in victorious exaltation. 

Islanzadí pushed back from the railing. The spectacle had shown a different side of Arya that the queen had yet to witness after all these years apart. Despite her experiences in war and the decades behind her, the elf was still young. She was barely out of the stage that her people considered her an elfling. Her eyes hadn’t lost that wild, brilliant fire, her face that bared-tooth, feral grin of life worth living and experiences, good or bad, worth having. 

She was still, in a way, that barefoot, skinned kneed elfling scrambling around the branches of Tialdarí Hall. Sure, Arya and her mother had never been the type to chat easily, but there was a time when Islanzadí had known just how to approach her, how to casually ask about her daily adventures, that set the girl beaming and happily sharing all her latest stunts. 

“Alright.” Islanzadí nodded, determined to try again. “I’ll talk to her.” 

Brom rolled his eyes. He lifted his mug, feigning examining it while hiding his grin behind the ceramic. “Good. While you’re at it, tell her to stop asking me if I want to join them every morning.” The Rider turned and began trudging back to his quarters. “Four in the bloody morning…insane, the both of them.”

[glivs]

Hello!

It's me, @glivskindel7!

After 8 years and in light of recent social media rumblings I've finally decided to create a separate blog for my art + animations :D I've done a lot of stuff over these years and I feel a bit more proud of my work to justify doing this now haha. I'll still be reblogging my work and things that inspire me over on @glivskindel7 so no pressure to follow me here, it will simply serve as an archive of my own work :)