#elk writes

[riskyalt]

Think it's very interesting to see that q!Roier treats people as they treat him back no matter what

Like with q!elquackity he kept repeating that "he was a great person with me" and that he didn't wish any active harm upon q!el, because he hadn't done anything to q!Roier

Like with q!foolish how he said he didn't mind being arrested by him to help, because q!foolish has always been caring to him - to the point he became q!Roier's father, so he tries to defend him back like q!foolish would to him, jumping in front of bullets

Like with q!cellbit how he matches the protectiveness and strong devotion to one another just as much, because q!Roier would burn down the island if q!cellbit has, knowing fully that q!cellbit would kill the entire Federation work force if he asked

Like with q!Spreen how he wants to inflict the same pain brought on to him, because he regards it as a betrayal meaning that it's only fair q!Spreen experiences the pain and isolation as well

Like with q!Etoiles how he would run to the other end of the earth to avenge him like with what happened relating to q!bbh, because q!Etoiles has always been genuine and supporting to him, to the point that with him by his side q!roier felt safe indulging in his bloodthirst

[elkian]

Thinking about the sugardaddy character reclining on a chaise lounge with his $500 silk shirt open and judgmentally listening to some board of something or other and every now and then he turns to the stocky dude in the orthopedic recliner to his right and goes "hey Herman are you hearing this shit?" and Herman's job is to go "yeah hon that sounds like absolute bullshit, what do they take you for". Herman's spouse is very supportive of this and sometimes appears on conference calls solely to back up these opinions.

Sugardaddy/sugarbaby relationship but the one with money is an annoying 23 year old who like, made a successful app in college or something, and the poor one is a 40-something single dad with medical debt who was just 'made redundant' at his soul-killing job. Mmmmm-hmmmm.... Thinking about this.

[emilybeemartin]

Yellowstone is so weird. Oh, you've got a spot that's slightly acidic and suddenly you're obsessed with hydrogen sulfide? Freak.

Northern Arapaho and 26 other associated tribes' native land

[theoxenfree]

NIGHTFALL

elk god x ranger!reader | wc; 759

no one dared to question why you chose the night shift; it was simply superstition that it was better not to ask. but, you were always in good company.

warnings; brief mentions of gore, ritualistic/cultish stuff, some lore things that may be confusing if you aren't aware of the series, roughly proofread

repost from 2kmps ➔ theoxenfree. would love to know if you guys would be interested in a full story!

No one dared to ask questions of you when you had volunteered to take up the lonesome night shift at the ranger’s station.

Workplace superstition wasn’t one to discriminate, whether that meant you were tweaking a bullet out of someone's chest in the operating room; sterile gowns splattered with carmine like a rorschach inkblot, adrenaline dampening the noise in the room while the surgeons honed into that sweet spot of impenetrable focus, or you were reclined in a creaky wooden chair, prodding agitatedly at your phone screen with a thumb because the service had turned to shit for the fifth time that night.

The reason why you were so adamant to burden the staggering quietness of the Atticus Forest behind aluminum walls that'd amplify the whispering winds and long claws of trees’ appendages trying to gain purchase into the metal went unchallenged, incurious—if no one knew why, they would be spared of knowing about you, bonding with you, catching your eye and expected to act in sympathy if you were to ever change your mind about the arrangement.

You, however, used the cover of nightfall, the endless shroud of darkness produced from a sprawling canopy of lush treetops to roam freely, uninhibited by the daytime shuffle of campers and hikers and other rangers scouting the trails for no-good-doers.

Every night you wandered out some ways from the station, somewhat nettled by the fact you were leashed from going far from the radio, needing to standby in case of contact, and whistled tunefully. It was a sweet sound that aroused the owls and sleeping doves, sometimes the tree frogs would chirp after you, suddenly turning the vast, placid place into a euphony of colorful sounds.

Only when the forest was at its noisiest did he come out from hiding. He did not know shame or fear of the sun, nor quail at the concept of walking among humans, but he preferred to share the forest with the untamed creatures and your company alone.

“Orruth,” you greeted the lumbering thing as he came away from the trees; the gray of his skin, and gleaming white elk skull were a seamless blend in the inky black all around. “Are you in the mood to walk tonight?”

He did not speak any human tongue, not any that you were aware of at any rate. You were no linguist, but the things he said couldn’t have been mistaken as latin nor some other dead language from forgotten empires and cultures buried by concrete and gentrification. They were guttural, strong echoes that anchored you with awe, overwhelmed by power, the unfathomable words of an ancient who always tried so desperately to converse with you. There could never be a middle-ground between what he said and what you understood because you were never meant to know.

So, he whined instead, lowered his hulking form close to the ground for you to reach his face. You felt the fissures in his long nose, how dry and brittle the bone felt under your fingertips and observed the glowing pupils within hollow sockets staring back at you. Apart from his arms and legs, which were long, sinewy, and gray, his head floated mysteriously by a thick vapor you had ever shied from touching and he seemed to not want you to touch.

“I heard a complaint about a fire about eight kilometers away. I'm hoping it's just a few campers thinking they're above the law of the land, but we can never be too sure.” You explained this while he tucked the flat bone of his nose into your chest, mindful of the sprawl of his antlers as you adjusted to petting him around the eye sockets. “We keep finding animals—gored, disemboweled, almost ritualistically at some campsites. If your old followers keep this up, they may try to ban people from camping out here at all.”

He would probably like that, you thought in hindsight once he had had his fill and pulled away from you. In his own tongue, he tried to say something else. It remained indecipherable to you, but you could have from how he nearly flattened his body to the ground that he was offering you a ride.

“Just try not to throw me into a bunch of tree branches again, yeah?” you sat on the broad shelf of one of his shoulders, arms wound in the network of forks and beams of his antlers as he rose to full height, walking onward off the trail and through the trees towards distant piles of smoke.

[elk-scribe]

Actually bc its easier to post text here on tumblr

gonna give y'all qsmp BOLAS fans a little treat. The baghera & Cellbit return for purgatory 2 had a lot more dialogue for it, but was never used. There were a lot of elements and time constraints that caused their involvement to go way differently than initially planned. It's a shame, because I was super proud of it! So here you go, enjoy the watcher's dialogue that we could've had.

Eye @ BOLAS members

"Greetings, victors. It was a pleasure to find out you chose to remain here, within my domain. This island, it awoke a sadistic desire within each of you, didn't it? You saw how that vermin you once considered your friends turned on you.

How they hurt you, tortured you, made you experience death at their hands over and over and over again. But I can tell, none of you desire to be masochists. And I would be bored of torturing you that same way again.

Do you hate those people? Do you hate how they made you powerless? How they kept taking and taking like greedy rats? You will never be above me, but you can be above that vermin. You have teeth, a blade, any weapon you may desire. You have a rage that must be felt by those below you. Those that hurt you. Those that might hurt you.

There are new contestants. Many new, some old. Go on.

Kill them. Tear them apart, make them feel the pain you felt. Give them no chance to stand, to breathe. Break their spirits, until there is nothing left.

And relish in power you have over them."

[elkian]

*after the court adjourns* "Pss! Hey! Just so you know, people like me can see through those."

"Oh goddammit. Thanks for letting me know."

*hands over business card* "Here, this person does more opaque illusions, and for cheap. That's how I held out until my doc finally approved my HRT."

"Thank you!"

The extra cones and rods in your eyes make it easy to identify fake photos and videos. One day when you’re testifying in court, you notice one of the jurors is “fake”

[six-white-venus]

. . .

[lepoppeta]

snip snip (relates to this post)

[thereseuwu]

I drew mee!! I forgor how to draw myself but yeaaaaaaaah (I really need to practice with my coloring, haha!)

[chronicowboy]

actually the worst writer feeling is not writer's block or no inspiration or just an exhaustion that you can't write through, it's when you have that itch to write but inspiration is juuuust out of reach like i can keep brushing my fingers against the corner of my next idea but i can't quite grab it

[xannerz]

its always surreal to me to see people praise s2 of centaurworld. s2 was so spectacularly bombastic and aimless and it ended in this awkward forgettable fizzle.

i feel like a dick saying it b/c i really do love the show lmao. or, at least half of it lmao (/stares at tnwk). gf and i've been thinking about rewatching it just to write out our thoughts on why s2 was such a poor follow-up to s1 - from the tone to the setup to all the worldbuilding the narrative had to offer in between the (far more) memorable songs of s1. idk. it's sad because cw really had the bones of a cult classic, but idek if you can call it that.

ive seen a few posts commenting on its lack of popularity, and i feel like it certainly deserves more, b/c i do feel like it's a novel idea made w/ love, but the shift btwn s1 and s2 wasnt just in the plot. there was a full-on *fracture* in the quality and direction and i'm still scratching my head over it. more than i should be, probably. but, it's just a bummer.

[riskyalt]

I'm rewatching some of these Ordem Paranormal room tours, and my brain is caught on q!Roier picking blood. It's the entity of extreme emotion and intensity making this is such a great look into q!Roier's inner physce in the sense that he's not innocent. He's not healed from q!Spreen and q!Quackity's betrayal. He says giving revenge 'poisons the soul' like when he was talking to Leo, but as himself he still wants it. q!Roier has always wanted to kill everyone on the island, it was his dream as he said himself, but now he just has too many friends to do so, and yet when he felt that burning anger deep inside, it is all he could think about.

His anger is like a flood, it builds and builds and builds until it all releases and it doesn't discriminate what it hits. Blood is effective against Knowledge because it beats the calm and reasoning that Knowledge has. It's a great look into how he was so unresponsive at the reveal that q!Cellbit was murdering the workers as he feels all those extreme emotions of hate, betrayal and pain towards the Federation that it contradicts q!Bagi's logic that not all the workers are at fault. Of course the extreme emotion of love and devotion towards q!Cellbit plays a major part in his choice to support his husband, which is another insight into just how much he feels.

[elkian]

“And for my next trick!“ silver flashed in the air; the brigands cowered, ducking behind trees and boulders, “I shall make these bandits... disappear.“

“You said the sword would make her weaker!“ one of the bandits hissed to her boss, who shook.

“It’s supposed to!“ The brigand leader yelped and ducked as light gleamed, and the tree behind him was bisected in a single sweep.

“Just like your audiences!“ chirped a metallic voice, and the woman laughed. She stepped forward, pure confidence, the blade shining in her hand. “Now there’s a disappearing act to envy!“

“See, someone appreciates my skill!“ the japester crows, flicking the sword up like a juggler and then, as she catches it, bringing it down on a boulder. The boulder splits down the middle, exposing the three brigands bunched together behind it, mimicking its exact silhouette; they scramble and run. “One or two more ambushes and I’ll be a regular magician.“

“Your words have magic, for true,“ the sword agrees, each word punctuating a thrust at the brigand leader as he scrambles back, “you can already put anyone to sleep with them!”

“My star already on the rise,“ the gods-damned clown says, idly slicing down and narrowly missing the leader, “I’m make a master yet.“

“Magician is the better career,” the sword agrees as it slices the leather vest right off the man, “maybe then you could make someone laugh!“

The bandits, spirit shattered, broke and ran.

The sword was supposed to inhibit the user, but they never thought about what it would mean if they sold it to a circus!

"Double Edge" Is a legendary unique sword that is available for a handful of copper. It is the sharpest and strongest weapon in existence. It also talks, and roasts the living hell out of its owner constantly, pulling no punches. Write a story of one of its many, many owners.

[moodbroads]

LF REQUESTS OF LIKE ANYTHING IM SO DRAINED OF IDEAS writing, doodles, bases, moodboards, pngart or whatever its called, game ratings?? maybe even animal ratings??? idek anymore i just wanna do smthin to get my mind busy

[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford + Emmett

REMINDER: I asked for one word prompts to trigger a fan fiction one shot. This one technically is not because there is more than a single word in the request, but I am going with it.

I’ve got 6-8 one word prompts in various stages of progress left in my queue. Keep them coming - they are busting through my writer’s block and I am having a lot of fUn writing them.

I will be posting all of these on AO3 as a collection when this batch is done.

=======================

Tim laughs every time one of his basketball buddies calls him “Jimmy.” He knows they are calling him a ringer like Jimmy from the movie “Hoosiers” - the guy who can make a shot from anywhere.

Yes, Tim is an excellent shot, be it for 3-pointers at or behind the tape, or the free throws that everyone else hates. Tim excels at those too.

Looking at Tim, you’d think with his height, wing-span and large hands, that he’d be a natural basketball player.

You’d be wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

While Tim is fantastic at the “glamour shots” of the game, he is not so great at running and dribbling, blocking, lay-ups, or defense. His dad had entered him in an Elk’s Club Free throw class, then competition when he was in middle school to keep Tim out of his hair while he drank excessively and fucked his way through the club waitresses out back by the dumpsters. Tim saw one poor girl pressed up against a smelly green bin one afternoon and then promptly signed up for anything and everything so he never would have to see that again. He became the reigning Elks Club “Hoop Shoot Free Throw” Champ for 5 years and “Hoop Shoot Wide Out” Champ for 4 years running. He was a master at making those far away shots, he just never learned to how to play the game to set up those shots.

Fast-forward 35 years and now he gets together with his former sergeants (Webb, Jansen, Hendricks and Gibbs) twice a week to play rec ball in the LA County First Responders League. He does a lot of running up and down the court until someone throws him the ball on the 3-point line and he scores.

————

Tim can feel his retro high-top Air Jordans (white with MJ inspired Carolina blue swooshes) loosening up on his left foot. Sure enough, with 3:36 minutes left in the second half of the game they are currently losing, his shoe lace comes untied. That plus the forward momentum from yet another run up the court shoots his wedding band skittering across the court. He always ties the ring to his left shoelace for safe keeping.

When the “object on the court” time out is called, Tim jogs over to group of guys standing around waiting to play to grab his ring from….Emmett. His wife’s one-time ex-boyfriend. The fire fighter whose “hunkiness” they once debated..

Emmett and Tim lock eyes and smile - they were pretty good friends at one point. Emmett pulls his own gold wedding band out from his Kobe jersey on a utilitarian dog tag chain to show Tim the proper way to store his ring during a game.

Tim smiles and says thank you when Emmett hands him his platinum one and is asked, “Who is the lucky girl? Anyone I know?” To which Tim kisses his ring and looks at Lucy’s heartbeat recorded when thinking about Tim (when she’s experiencing butterflies) engraved inside, before bending down and retying his laces, securing the ring with a double knot this time.

Finally, Tim stands back up and smiles his biggest, “I’m so in love” grin and says to Emmett as the referee calls him back to the court, “I never did thank you for breaking up with her. By text message no less. I’ll tell Lucy you said hi.”

———-end———-

[elkian]

Listening to HG Wells' Time Machine on the way to work and there's something very moving about laughing aloud at words written literal centuries ago.