#highwaters

[arcadechan]

she hallow on my ween til i ...!!!

[hellenhighwater]

I'll admit that the first audio test was The Bus Is Late.

[anethiawoods]

playing slay the princess as intended (watching your friend stream it and then roleplaying as improvised ocs for each of ur runs)

[russellius]

George vs Texan slang

GR: All hat, no cattle?... All talk, no... follow-through. I mean, I had a different phrase lined up, but I don't think it's social media approved...

[huariqueje]

Awaiting highwater - Beert Hennephof

Dutch , b. 1951 -

Oil on canvas , 80 x 60 cm.

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Noticed But Hoping For The Best Part 1

So this is based off this post I made about Danny slowly losing small motor function after the accident. I'll be doing this in parts, both for more writing time and because I have no idea how to add a 'read more'.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first person to truly realize something was wrong was Jazz. Oh, Danny wasn't dumb, he knew something was different- after all, he was the one living through it- but it was no big deal. Fumbling with shoe laces could easily be due to exhaustion from adjusting to having to deal with ghosts, the same with slipping up on buttons or the slight decrease in the quality of his handwriting. While he wasn't dumb, there were some things he just wasn't perceptive about, and his sister noticed.

Danny thought he was just being clumsy any time food dropped onto his shirt. Jazz noticed his hand couldn't quite hold the fork or spoon steady. He laughed off a failure to catch something, but his sister noticed he did catch it but it somehow slipped through his hands. Small issues, new ones that had no reason to appear.

When she learned about the accident, that felt like a reason, but- Phantom was a part of who Danny was, and when flying around and handling things with ghosts or using tools, there were no indications of anything the oldest Fenton child had seen bothering her brother. It might be a new set of colors and new powers, but it was still her brother's body, so nothing could really be wrong. Maybe he was just more alert as Phantom.

The best she could do was keep an eye on the situation, nothing seemed to be going too wrong. Maybe Danny's insistence that it was just from exhaustion was true and she was looking too far into things. After all, the only scar from the accident was so faint it could only be seen if he got sunburnt or otherwise discolored his skin, something like that shouldn't be able to cause long-lasting problems.

Maybe it was optimistic, but Jasmine Fenton was hoping for the best.

Next

[incorrect-mtg]

Davriel: Ms. Highwater, we have an emergency!

Ms. Highwater, whispering to herself: ah yes, the horrors from beyond the stars coming to compleat everyone was fine, but now he has an emergency...

Ms. Highwater: What is the problem, Davriel?

Davriel: We have run out of wine! Did you not order new bottles when you noticed the cellar running dry?!

Ms. Highwater: I did. The supply, however, is still recovering from the Phyrexian Invasion.

Davriel: The... what invasion?

Ms. Highwater:

Ms. Highwater: Phyrexia? The biomechanical horrors set on making everyone be like them?

Davriel: Doesn't ring a bell.

Ms. Highwater: And you did not at all notice the plane-wide fighting happening against them by everyone in Innistrad?

Davriel: Can't say I did! Everything looked perfectly Innistrad-ey to me! Maybe all of it happened while I was taking my afternoon nap?

[kaopiak]

doodle collection

[crunchbuttsteak]

Why does it keep happening?

[arcadechan]

to the VICTOR..........goes the FRANKENSTEIN

[hellenhighwater]

What's your decision making process like for thrifting pieces? I've started looking at thrifting more earnestly, and at antiques in particular to add a bit more character to my otherwise midcentury-influenced space, but I always struggle with envisioning if a piece will "go" with everything else. But you seem like you've got the mixing and matching of pieces down pat, do I'd love to hear your thoughts!

I've gotten a bunch of asks in this vein so I'm going to go a little broader than this ask to cover the general topic.

On a purely practical level, you need to know what you have. I keep what I call a house journal, which is a notebook where I've drawn out room layouts, with measurements for available space, lists of what I'm looking for, dimensions for things like doorways (do not buy anything larger than your doorways) and even fabric and paint swatches. I also keep a digital photo album of house pictures, so if I'm trying to see if something will go, I don't have to rely entirely on memory.

So, important note: my background is not in interior design--it's in set design, studio art, and graphic design, so for me, I fall back on narrative. When you're designing interior spaces for theater or film, the room is not primarily functional: it is, first and foremost, an extension of the character that inhabits it. The room exists to tell you about the person in it.

And often, that's the tack I take in my house--not using my home as a framing device for myself, but for imagined characters. For example, my living room is The Adventurer, or the Archaeologist. The character for that room is someone from decent money in the late Victorian period, the sort of person who spent their live traveling for no particular reason, and brought home all manner of oddities. The room is rich in color and texture; the furniture is mostly late 1800s, and it's both formal and lived in. Choosing things for this room, I ask if that character would own that object. I also used unifying wood tones, and a similar depth of color, to tie things in. Pick a color palette and stick to it.

My drawing room is the Alchemist. There are lots of celestial elements, but it's a workroom, so most of the furniture is very practical and simply designed. It's beaten and worn in, showing marks of use. There is lots of storage, and curious little things in jars, and plants and bones and the tools of my trade. The Alchemist uses this space to make impossible things.

The question then is not "does this match" but "would the character that embodies this space choose this? Why? What does it say about them?"

And what all of that tells you about me, is, well....I don't know, really?

[catarimint]

Drew him once more, now with oc

[imaginedreamwrite]

Come Hell Or Highwater: Part 1

With his feet propped up on the corner of the desk and a lit cigarette hanging between his lips, he had felt momentarily content. The buzz from the tobacco had hit him, a welcomed kind of high that made the lingering silence in the room seem less egregious than it was.

Ari and Steve had received the call and the order to be reassigned from the case they were on, the directive had come from the captain of their specialized team and within an hour they had been ripped from one case and moved to another.

Their replacements had landed in the safety zone to relieve Steve and Ari, the two of which had been pulled directly into their top boss’ office.

“She’s 22,” Steve cursed and slammed the file against the desk, stalking around the desk and turning sharply to lean against the edge, “witnessed a high-profile murder on her way to the apartment from university. A hell of a thing.”

Ari drew in a puff and held it in his mouth for a moment before slowly exhaling, the dart between his fingertips glowing at the burning butt. He didn’t speak until he leaned forward and tapped the edge against the ashtray.

The pile of ah had been growing and he had been putting off dumping the tray in the trash like he should have, although he knew that he would eventually have to clean the glass. As he sat back, Ari finally addressed his brother.

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Ari drew his gaze away from the ashtray and the file he had been pouring over, watching Steve tap his fingers against the edge of the wood, “22 is a hell of an age to have this kind of target on her head.”

“Fucking animal.” Steve cursed and momentarily twitched as if he could still feel Sister Mary’s switch against his knuckles, a repeated punishment they had all received from catholic school.

Their ma attempted to straighten out the triplets’ boyish and troublesome nature if only the switches and the punishments had worked.

“He’s carved men twice as big and tough, this girl-“ Ari lifted a picture of the woman they were assigned to protect and hide away, his captivating gaze studying every inch of the image in his hand, his lips forming a deep frown.

You were enrolled in a bachelor of music and composition course, and almost finished your degree with just over a year to go.

You had been kept late at campus while helping a friend create a composition that was going to be recorded for a final grade. You stayed behind because he asked you to and when it had come time for you to walk home to your apartment, you denied his offer for an Uber or an escort home.

You claimed you didn’t have long to go, and you didn’t. It should’ve been uneventful, it should’ve taken you less than fifteen minutes. Hell, you even had pepper spray in your bag in case something happened. You were, for all intents and purposes, protected one way or another.

And then your roommate asked if you could stop at the drugstore on the way home because she forgot to pick up her prescription and you were close. You were a sweetheart, you wouldn’t have let her suffer so you agreed. You took a detour because she asked you to because she was your friend.

Your errand had almost gone off without a hitch until you stepped out of the drugstore and took a side road, one that would’ve saved you a few minutes. You happened upon the assault, robbery and murder of a high-profile dignitary. The politician was recognizable, even if you weren’t involved in politics in any possible measure you would’ve recognized him.

And you had.

Not only had you recognized the infamous man, but you had also bared witness to him and his partner being robbed, attacked and brutally murdered.

You heard the twisted and sickening gurgle, you had felt the air shift as someone had taken their last breath and another was holding on for dear life.

You listened and you tried to help after coming out of hiding. You were a gentle soul who had called 911, you had waited and done all you could to support the man struggling for his life.

It was a twist of fate, a simple errand that had altered your course in life because you were a good person.

The men you witnessed from your hiding place hadn’t been aware that you were even there watching them, frozen in place and fearful that you had been next. They had killed their political target, and they had later killed the man in the hospital room. They thought they had eliminated every witness, however, they were innately wrong.

You were the only living and breathing person who could attest to their horrible acts, and that had placed a detrimental target upon your head. Once it was found out that there was a living witness, your life would be on the line and so would the case that was being built against their criminal empire.

With your safety in check, the triplets were called in. Ari Levinson, Andy Barber and Steve Rogers had all worked for the Witness Protection Program, triplets who had given themselves different last names in order to add another layer of personal protection.

Ari and Steve were the best the WPP had for agents.

The two of them were ex-navy SEALs, two men who were battle-hardened and incredibly skilled with as many weapons as they could get their hands on. They had taken every opportunity given to them to become deadly soldiers hellbent on protecting those that needed them most.

They had become out of the brotherhood and deadly them that had encroached upon some of the most terrifying and deadly missions that were thrown at their squad. They had served and served their purpose well, and only after retirement had they continued to do good with another agency.

Andy had chosen to go to law school instead of joining the military like his brothers had, choosing to take the avenue of criminal prosecution and the courts. His intent was just as noble as Steve and Ari’s, he had felt that drive and need to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves.

It was after he had graduated from law school, becoming more seasoned as a lawyer, that the three of them joined the program.

“-she’s safe. Andy is with her getting more details about that night. They’re waiting to hear just like we are, we need confirmation that the safe house and all the documents are ready.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest before he turned his head, gazing at the clock hanging off the wall.

They were called to their director’s office and told to bring what they needed for a long-term stay with no foreseeable end date.

They had been ripped off one case, set upon another and given little detail as to where they were going or what the game plan was. Even with the files they had read, and what they had been told, there was still so much hidden from them.

“Orders.” The door to the office opened, and one of their team members entered with a manila envelope for each of them, closing and locking the door behind herself. “Star witness is ready for transport and you two have gotten your alibis.”

“Married?” Steve exclaimed in surprise, turning over the fake IDs, the faux passports and two sets of keys. “This is the ploy?”

“You’re headed for an isolated, almost self-contained town in the middle of nowhere. You got married last year and are seeking relocation to escape the rush of the big city, you’re wanting to settle down somewhere quiet to raise a family. Ari is gonna be foreman with local lumber yard, Steve you’ll be working from home as an online editor, both of you are skilled with your hands.”

“And Y/N?” Ari had reached for the cigarettes to his left, flipping open the lid of the box to grab a white filtered dart, his fingertips grasping the end as he yanked it out.

“She has to be with one of you at all times. If she’s not with Steve at home, she’s with you at the lumberyard.” The agent and their longtime friend had come to rest her hands on her hips, watching the two men as they thumbed through the envelope they were given, looking at the necessary paperwork for their new lives.

“Where does Andy fit in?”

“This town you’re going to,” the agent drew in a breath and huffed it out in a short burst, “the entire town is made of polyamorous units. It’s the perfect cover for having three men living with or visiting her. No one would bat an eye at having a young polyamorous family like the one you’re acting as-“

“Polyamory? Won’t that attract more attention from these sick fucks?” Steve raised an eyebrow, gaze flitting toward Ari.

“There’s more of them out there than you think. Besides, the world is a big place and there’s a lot of rumours that she headed into Europe.” With a final look at the marriage certificate, the drivers licenses, fake passports, housing deeds, the story had been set.

“Andy travels for work, he spends more time away than home. Long stints abroad, a week here and there at home.”

The question that hadn’t been asked had received an answer and then their friend and agent nodded her head. “Let’s get you boys some wedding rings and get you settled at home.”

“And where’s our young bride?” Ari questioned, shoving his paperwork back in the envelope.

“With her third husband, waiting for you two. Let’s go.”

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[thescientistowl]

Soooo, after mentioning that coffee shop au thing as a joke, I maaaay have started something. Might not finish it either, but we'll see. So, please enjoy a small snippet of something terribly cheesy.

And for the record, I know Lucanis is going to be a coffee snob. I just feel it in my bones.

"Hi! Could I get a pumpkin spice latte, please?"

Not for the first time today, Illario had to stifle a smirk and a snort of laughter. Not because of the order, no; he could have cared less about what people wanted to drink. His cousin, however? Illario could practically feel the waves of despair rolling from him, even on this, the far end of the counter.

"I am sorry, but we don't do those here." Illario appologised, with no hint of customer service sarcasm. He was always genuinely sorry with the pretty customers, and the elven lady stood before him was very pretty indeed.

"Oh, okay, ummm..."

Illario waited patiently whilst the elf gazed at the menu board behind him and cast his eyes further down the counter to where Lucanis prepared more of the beans for grinding. His back was to them, but his head was on a slight tilt. He was listening in, waiting for an order.

Always so eager, cousin, Illario grinned.

"I'm really sorry," the elf began, her voice barely audible against the low hum of background conversation and clinking cups. "It's just that I don't usually drink coffee, but I do like pumpkin spice."

"Then what do you drink?"

"Tea, mostly."

Illario smiled pleasantly, trying his very best to ignore the choking sound coming from his cousin's direction.

"Unfortunately we do not sell tea, either."

"No, I see that."

Illario had warned Lucanis that not stocking tea would be to his detriment. And it appeared that it was about to loose them a sale. Illario couldn't have that, not when he prided himself on his personable salesmanship.

"We do have a small selection of flavoured syrups. Perhaps a little cinnamon? It will cover the spiced portion of your latte."

The lovely lady's mood perked considerably. "That might be nice. Could I please have a one-shot latte with the cinnamon?"

"But of course."

With the payment made, Illario gestured for the lovely lady to take a seat. She quickly tottered away with a heavy bag on her back and what looked suspiciously like a guitar case held in her tight embrace.

"One-shot. Pumpkin spice. No one just wants good, strong coffee any more."

Illario finally smirked, listening to Lucanis' grumbling as he started his work on the order.

"Or perhaps you are just a snob, cousin."

"I have taste, cousin."

"That's what you call it."

[topnotchquark]

[partyinthesockdrawer]

I get to play dnd again! I'm so excited I haven't played in forever, this little lass is Hellen Highwater, just a cabbie trying to make a living.