#creative documenting

[absoluteminimum]

Shockwave was doing his best to attend to Soundwave. His best was quite good.

The cables were hindering his efforts somewhat. They were quite… distracting.

[ethosiab]

Rendering practice :D

[rockpaperscissuhs]

HISPANIC HERITAGE MONTH + BAND OF BROTHERS:

JOSEPH "JOE" RAMIREZ

Born October 5th, 1921, in Nebraska

Died April 8th, 1988 (age 66), in Martinez, California

Joe Ramirez enlisted in September 1942 (age 20) in San Francisco, CA, and he trained with Easy Company at Toccoa. Holding the rank of Private, he served in Normandy, Holland, and Bastogne. He was hospitalized in January 1945, and discharged in July 1945. After the war, he was married for many years, and had children and grandchildren. When he passed away he was buried with his wife, who had passed away 11 years earlier. Further information about him is scarce, but the brief character profile in the Band of Brothers series bible describes him as Mexican-American, and his personality as "sensitive and nervous."

Appears in Episodes 1, 3-8, and 10; portrayed by actor Rene L. Moreno

Sources below

A million thanks to @bleedingcoffee42 for tracking down this info for me!

[onethousxndvoices]

took a break from my main projects to do some visdev practice. have a line up for a layton fic that'll probably never see the light of day

[nondelphic]

my brain when i try to write: 95 tabs open. only 1 is about the actual story.

[edenfenixblogs]

I AM NO LONGER IN ANTISEMITESVILLE, CALIFORNIA AND I AM HOME WITH FAMILY!!!!!

My mom’s dog says it all about how exhausted I am.

[sanct-dream-reality]

Monster Report Form

An in-universe SANCT official monster-hunting form for monsters defeated in the field. While not mandatory, eligible hunters can fill out the form to receive SANCT Bucks, a SANCT-exclusive currency that can be redeemed at your local Sanct facility store. Hunters may also receive other rewards, such as vouchers or the appropriate local currency, if needed.

[flowercrowngods]

ronance yearning hours

Mornings like this are becoming Nancy’s favourite thing, with the rising sun painting the room in golden light that always, always lands on Robin, who usually sleeps long past sunrise when she can. Nancy lets her; there’s nowhere for her to go anyway on this slow Saturday morning in Steve’s house, and the boys will only wake in an hour or so.

Nancy has taken to using that time to watch the picture of absolute serenity that is a sleeping Robin, with her cheek smushed into the pillow and her hair falling over her face in a way that never fails to make Nancy smile.

It also never fails to make her fingers twitch, itching to reach out and brush that hair behind her ear and see if her cheek is as smooth to the touch as it looks.

It gets stronger, this urge, with every slow Saturday morning that she wakes in the same bed as her. The journalist inside her wants to find a better word for it, a stronger one, to avoid repetition and ensure clarity. But all the words are big and carry implications for which Nancy is not yet ready.

She refuses to call it longing, this need inside her to touch and linger. She refuses to call it yearning, the way she looks forward to Friday nights at Steve’s with Robin and Eddie, or the way it fills her chest with excitement and giddiness just to think about sharing a bed and waking next to her and watching as all the things that overwhelm Robin on a daily basis are held off for at least another hour yet.

What’s in a word? she’ll scoff when it comes to interviews and articles and hours of agonising over sentence structure and synonyms.

But it’s on mornings like this that she realises that some words require bravery and tenderness rather than simple contemplation and calculation. Some words take time.

Beside her, Robin sighs quietly in her sleep, and Nancy shuffles closer. Because if she can’t be brave with words yet, not even with herself, she can at least be closer.

Using the momentum of a moment unguarded, her right hand comes up before she can stop it, finding a home on Robin’s cheek as she slowly, reverently brushes the hair out of her face and behind her ear. Her touch is light, fingertips ghosting over soft, warm skin — and feeling that softness upon her touch, she wonders if falling in love with Robin would be just as soft, just as gentle; just as warm.

Not a second later, Nancy pulls her hand away as if burned, her heart racing in her chest as if it were signalling her to run, you should be running, i’m racing like you’re running for your life before you’re caught and found out. Nancy balls her hand into a fist and scoots further back on the bed, feeling a heaviness inside her chest that has only been there for a few of these mornings. A fear. A panic.

Because terrible things happen when Nancy Wheeler wonders about love and touch and tenderness. And worse things still, because it’s not supposed to be like this. Not with Robin.

So she stays on her side of the bed, watching the sun dance along Robin’s skin, her hand still warm, the ghost touch of Robin’s soft cheek still present. And she watches, hand cradled to her chest to stop herself from reaching out again. She watches and wonders if maybe she should start using bigger words, because the pit in her chest is growing larger with every passing second and she needs something to fill it.

~*~

It happens again the next week. And the week after that. It seems like the first time broke something in Nancy, or maybe it came alive, but either way she can’t really stop reaching for Robin now. And her repertoire of words is growing with each Saturday morning, too. Longing, aching, yearning — they are classics. But there’s basking, too. Hoping, wishing, and imagining. God, does she imagine.

She imagines Robin’s lips turning up into a smile with Nancy’s hand on her cheek, she imagines her hand coming up to capture Nancy’s and just holding it. Or an image that makes her heart race again: kisses brushed to her knuckles. Or her lips.

She imagines, and she wishes, and she longs. But there’s also belonging. In fact, there’s a whole novel Nancy feels she could write in those early morning hours. A thousand pages dedicated to all the words that exist around Robin Buckley. Words that live inside Nancy; that part is important.

Four weeks have passed and the feelings have only grown stronger, developed more words that will forever remain between her and the morning sun. And Nancy can’t stop herself from trailing the back of her finger along smooth, warm skin, the touch too light to disturb the sleeping beauty.

Sleeping Beauty, who stills and stiffens minutely, but Nancy is too mesmerised to notice until it’s too late.

“You’ve gotta stop this,” Robin whispers, her voice hoarse from sleep, and Nancy’s heart leaps out of her chest in panic and embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she whispers, pulling her hand back toward her chest. She’ll explain. Robin had something on her face that Nancy brushed away, that’s all. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“Or I’ll fall madly in love with you if you don’t.”

Oh. Oh?

Oh.

Nancy swallows as her thesaurus dissolves and all words escape her. She blinks. Robin’s eyes are still closed but there’s a shadow of a smile on her lips, dimpling the skin that Nancy caressed just seconds ago.

There is the chance to just ignore that this ever happened, with Robin not looking at her, not making this moment real yet, on the brink of sleep and wakefulness. All she’ll have to do is wait. It’s the best chance she’s ever going to get, to forget about all this and get over it. Over her. Over whatever she has been building inside herself under the light of the rising sun over the past weeks.

All she’d have to do is remain still and silent and wait for Robin to fall back asleep.

But there was something about big words and bravery, and even though her thesaurus has left her and the thousand pages of things to feel, to say, to do, to think around Robin have torn themselves up because they were bleak and bland and not enough, Nancy feels brave on this particular morning.

Because the world hasn’t ended yet in all those weeks that she’s been thinking about Robin. In fact, the world has stopped ending since she started seeing Robin for who she is. And in a world where bravery is not about surviving, it is always about love.

And maybe that’s what she feels, maybe that’s what she wants, what she allows herself to want when she lays her hand on Robin’s cheek to caress the softest skin and gently comb back the strands of hair that are threatening to fall back over her face again. Her beautiful face that’s pulling up into a smile now — and Nancy is not imagining it. In fact, she’s smiling, too. She’s smiling so wide that a tiny little laugh bubbles past her lips.

Robin scoots closer, eyes squinting open now, as if to make sure this is real. As if she’s feeling the same. As if she meant it, what she said just now.

Nancy swallows thickly when Robin tucks her head under her chin, her body curling into Nancy’s, finding one of her hands to hold it. She still feels too raw, too vulnerable, and she wants to ask. Wants to be sure. Wants it to be real.

“Five more minutes,” Robin says, already on her way back to a deep sleep. “And then we’ll talk about this. I’ll tell you all about this girl I like. Think she might like me back. And she’s so warm.” She buries a little deeper into her side to chase that warmth that is now filling her whole body.

And Nancy gasps out a laugh this time, a tiny one, gentle and tender and all those words that are slowly coming back to her now that Robin is curled into her side and holding her hand. Her free hand comes up to comb through Robin’s hair in steady motions to lull her back into a slumber.

“Sleep,“ she breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Robin hums, cuddling impossibly closer, and Nancy feels herself drifting off again, too. With a smile on her face. For the first time in years.

[corviiids]

complaining about creative writing post

[cinnamonest]

Can I just ask - how in the Jesus Christ are your posts so fucking long. Share your secret with me. Because I could NEVER.

I WANT to say something about determination but if I'm being entirely honest I know in my heart it's caffeine, mania, sleep deprivation, and ADHD medication 😔

[edwards-exploit]

The Bournemouth Belle, and The Last Shunter.

More OCs! SteamNav and Missus are rather new so some info might be subject to change, and they were AU versions of certain characters (3 points if you guess who) buuut they spiralled into new characters. SteamNav is tranquil fury incarnate, trying to take control of his life after so long being something humans have tinkered with and throwing herself into making Incredibly Bad Descisions; and Missus can and will judge your (engine) sins, but she keeps losing at poker and that's why Sodor is so damn haunted. If anyone has any more questions or just want to help me brainstorm send me an ask and I'll answer :]

[die-rosastrasse]

Nothing on tumblr is as annoying as visiting a blog and thinking that it's cool and similar to yours and almost hitting follow only to find out that their "original content" is just tons of uncredited aesthetic moodboards and stolen pictures from other social media or even my own blog.

"Art credits: Pinterest" Shut up! This is not a source!

[saltdrinker]

Soooo now that all the EPIC sagas are released, I’m gonna dump this costume rendering of Penelope I did for a university assignment. Hope yall like it epic fandom 🫶

[tea-twords]

Thinking about an idea for the kinich

What do you think of a modern au where it’s a group Mario party session and Kinich is being obnoxiously lucky and good at it and Mualani rages and things go from there

And ajaw is kinich’s asshole dog and kachina is also playing with them and also someone else (maybe Xilonen? Maybe traveler? No idea for that)

[yuri-is-online]

Listening to an actual lawyer shilling for gen ai is so tiring because I get why they want to use it but I'm so conflicted. The main reason my professor is giving is for why they have been training these models is that they save an ENORMOUS amount of time. Like slashing a task from 5 hours down to 2, which obviously saves the client money and given how much legal fees cost I can't exactly complain about that... but then she starts talking about using chat gpt to write emails for her and praising it for being so wonderful and loses me completely.

One of the main things about the gen ai legal firms use I find interesting is that they train the models in house and then keep the data offline. That way it shouldn't "hallucinate" and give false answers to questions.

[martitheevans]

in like 5th class we were introduced to the concept of not using said all the time in creative writing and we weren't allowed use it anymore and the teacher put up a poster with 'Said is dead' written on it with a load of replacements for said on it and now whenever I use said in writing I feel like I'm rebelling