#i've just been unable to write

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[pekoeboo]

ugh. some thoughts.

really been trying to find the joy in drawing/writing again and honestly it's been such a challenge. friends have told me it's most likely depression that's making it hard to feel motivated and tbh they're probably right.

hoping to get back into being creative in the way I Want to be at some point tho. I miss it. there's still so much with my stories and characters that I haven't been able to share or explain and I wish I knew how without it feeling like this daunting, impossible task.

I don't know when I'll get around to actually sharing art again (or writing, if ever). was hoping that I'd manage to get some of my mental and physical issues in check recently for just long enough to get back into the swing of being creative, but that hasn't seemed to work. everything feels bad, both artistically and physically. I'm struggling to keep up with the frantic pace at which my brain comes up with story concepts and intriguing character interactions, even tho everything in me wishes I could turn it into tangible artistic expression so I can get it out of my head and share it. it used to be easy. I don't know why it's not now.

I'm just . tired, I guess.

[whirling-fangs]

[[ the adventures of a soggy boar ]]

[a-mel0n]

i feel like i should get tested for adhd.

[handsomethrowrug]

OOC:

[blindfoldcd]

ooc. i'm going to try to be here this week...

I know I keep saying this, but I seem to keep overestimating the amount of energy I have. Unfortunately, we have three people out of work on leave and we're already understaffed to begin with. Those of us that ARE still showing up to work are completely overwhelmed and overloaded (I work at a wally world for anyone confused, specifically apparel, which takes up a whole third of our store by itself). With back to school also having just started, there's a ton of customers and honestly its just exhausting. I don't normally post this kind of thing, but I'd like my partners or anyone waiting for me to reply to an ask / thread to know what's going on and try to understand that I'm quite literally mentally and physically drained most days. My days off are usually spent recouping what energy I can, so I don't always hop on to work on things. I have no intention of not replying, if anything, I'M the most frustrated with not being able to. I want to give everyone equal effort and give my best writing and not anything half-assed.

Please be patient with me. I'm going to seriously try this week. Love you guys and thanks for sticking around.

[another-clive-blog]

Don't want to burn you out with requests but what's the most tragic scenario we can make about Clive suffering

-φ

φ I want you to know that I would die for you. You are so sweet for caring about my health but I can promise you these asks are fuel to get through the rest of the day <3 If I get a burn-out, school is to blame. That being said, this is the occasion for me to go wild so I want to say a big thank you hehe !!

Alright so I had to get creative about this one because like- Clive already goes through it in canon, and also I exploded him yesterday, I'm killing him today, might torture him tomorrow, so really what more can I do right ? And then I realized. Tragic. Suffering.

What is more tragic than perpetuating the cycle of violence ? What hurts more than losing yourself in it ? What scenario could be worse than becoming who you were trying to destroy ?

(Re)introducing Bad Times AU, also known as the Ouch WIP. This is the Claire and Dimitri swap AU where everyone is extra miserable and unhappy. It may not be the angstiest AU of the game but I feel like its events fit well this request.

This takes place after the last WIP where Claire realizes Clive has doomed her. She has successfully caught up with him before he starts his machine, therefore giving way for one final confrontation between Claire and Clive !

Claire caught up with him right in front of the Thames Arms. It was funny, she supposed, because they had celebrated every major success in this very place : Dimitri had insisted on it, a way to build some team cohesion.

Team cohesion- yeah, right.

"Stop right there," she commanded, and he had the audacity to obey.

How could he ? After everything they'd been through, every effort she'd made- how could he do that ? How could he just condemn her and then move on to kill more innocents as if it was nothing ?

Did he even realize what he was doing ? What he had done ?

Clive turned around to face her. He was oddly calm, his expression neutral as he eyed her up and down. "I wasn't expecting you here," he simply said.

Claire had expected him to at least fake remorse, give a half-hearted apology that he would have never meant, but he couldn't even bother to do that. "What do you think you're doing ?"

They both knew the answer : starting up a giant war machine. Destroying all of London. Making sure no one would ever forget his crimes, because nobody would care to remember Bill's after this day.

Clive said nothing.

He turned to get away, and Claire moved without thinking : grabbing his arm, she jerked him closer. "Why won't you answer ? Is it because you know the truth ? That you're just like us- just like Bill."

He yanked his arm free, a look of sheer rage on his face. "I am not !!"

That was more like it. He wasn't that dignified, unreachable person- he didn't deserve to be unbothered by any of this, she decided.

She had come to stop him, but at that moment Claire realized that she didn't care about reasoning him. Why should she ? That man was the reason she was dying. She didn't have to save him if he had killed her. She wasn't a martyr, a good little lamb who saw the good in everyone. She wasn't an all forgiving God.

She was a human, and she had enough.

"Yes you are. You put yourself with the little people, thinking you're a hero who stands up against the bullies, but you don't care about the little people. You never did !"

"Shut up !" He yelled. He looked hurt and furious, as if he still had any right to feel either of it. "You don't understand !!"

"Oh, but I do. We've all harmed people because we were selfish. Bill wanted his money, Dimitri wanted fame, I- well I guess I wanted to live, but you know that."

"I don't-"

"But you ?" She cut him off, and she could see how unbearable this was for him to hear. Too bad- she didn't think she could stop herself if she wanted too, and she didn't. "You harm people for the sake of harming them. You're no better than us. You're worse, actually." Claire felt high and free, and was it what it felt like to finally fight back ? Or was it the feeling of her body giving out, of her mind losing touch with reality ?

Was she hallucinating, or was her whole body suddenly glowing ?

Clive wasn't answering anymore, his hands hiding his face and grasping at strands of his hair : he was shaking, a mess in his body and mind. Was he hurt ? Crying ? Claire couldn't bring herself to care. She was going to die because of him, he could at least endure a blow to his ego. And if that made her petty, mean or selfish ? She didn't care. She was dying. She was dead. And it was his fault this time.

Her vision was starting to get blurry, but she kept going anyway. "The truth is, it was never about scientists. It wasn't even about politicians. It's about people like you, who intentionally harm others to get what you want." She wasn't even sure he could still hear her. Was she talking to him or was she just getting it all out ? Why wasn't he reacting anymore ? "You are the problem, Clive, as much as we are : we, however, are not trying to pin the blame on someone else."

It felt good- it shouldn't feel good. Hershel would be disappointed. Well, she wouldn't get to see him again because of Clive, so did it really matter what Hershel would think ? She was dying either way.

She heard a muffled sound come from behind Clive's hands. Oh, so he was crying. This was quite pathetic and infuriating after everything he'd done- or well, planned to do. He hadn't started his machine yet, had he ? He could still... turn back, she realized. Then the only one he'd had killed would be her, although she was already dead.

She absolutely refused to comfort him, but his crying was making her more and more uncomfortable.

Except he wasn't crying.

His head jerked back as his whole body shook with uncontrollable laughter. He was laughing like a mad man, breathless and unstoppable. The sorrow, shame, horror Claire had seen him display- it was all gone, as if it had never even reached him.

Claire... didn't know how to react. She wasn't expecting that- she wasn't expecting much of anything, really. She had been- she had been thoughtlessly lashing out, she realized. Just like him.

"Well, maybe you're right," he was laughing like they were on in some kind of joke, a silly little secret they'd have shared during a sleepover or something, as if they weren't talking about destroying London. She clenched her fists, chills running down her spine. He had lost it- he had truly and finally lost it.

His laughter finally died down, but the smile remained : crazy eyes stared at her, piercing through her very soul. "But if you are, I need to do this more than I thought."

Claire took a step forward, tone firm and cold. God, she felt so cold all of a sudden. "Didn't you hear ? It won't solve anything. You're not helping anyone, not even yourself !! Hershel is going to stop you, and then there will be no second chance for you." Was- why was everything blending together around her ? Why couldn't she see the trees and boats and river anymore ? Why couldn't she hear the birds singing ?

Why couldn't she feel anything ?

Clive watched this, the result of his own actions. The death of his hero's lover. The professor wouldn't get there in time to save her.

Layton wouldn't get there in time to save him.

"I think people like us never get any real second chances."

-_-_-_-

I love Claire. I am so angry that she solved everyone's problems and never got to do or say anything about her own. She deserved that lashing out so I'm giving it to her.

On the other hand, I have always been fascinated by Clive listening very quietly and nicely to Layton's biography of him, and going all villainous laughter only AFTER Hershel is done. I think he snapped when he realized that there was no going back, that the trap was closing on him.

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

I don't have all my summerfest days planned out yet (decisions are HARD ;-;) but I do have a couple and. excitement.............!!

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

okay so i somehow survived this week's exam combo (still not done with them but at least i'm getting the weekend ig hh :'D)

and i wanted to animate something small and silly but i dunno who to draw, so i'm finally testing these polls out hehehe

i just went with the bad sans gang cause i felt like it, but do tell me in the tags/comments/asks if there's someone else you'd rather see 👀

[moe-broey]

I <3 blowing up my save files mid-playthrough or after I've beaten the game and feel aimless or I'm three hours in and incredibly indecisive and perfectionistic and have to start over Better this time or I just get really into One Idea and blow up the save for the sole purpose of achieving the One Idea and once I have it's like. Well. What was the point of that actually. And then I blow it up again

[golden-nugget]

gen loss rambling

what if gl!ranboos mask was what was keeping him alive. I mean the line about keeping the mask on or else the show ends can be taken a few different ways but I feel it could work here. please ranboo said in one of the streams talking about genloss bts stuff that there were wires in his mouth that were meant to have been seen during the final scene. and finally the mask itself is likely plugged into his brain, (this isn't a new thought either given the placement if the logo on the back) so what if he was less human than we first realized and closer to being a machine then a man in the first place.

if this is the case, I doubt it but still, that would make more sense as to why shiwfall was so ok with letting them die at all, knowing they can bring him back no matter what (cause they kinda already did). that would also mean that out vote didn't matter when you boil it down. we might not have broken the cycle but just fractured it slightly.

[a-lonely-dunedain]

12 for Margim & Celeair

12. "help me"

Margim's old habits die hard as it turns out (I think I could've done better with this one, but my brain is deep fried and crispy so Words and Descriptions Do Not Go. I plan to shove all these little prompt fics into an Ao3 fic once I'm done with all of them, so I'll probably clean this one up/flesh it out a bit then.)

There were no casualties for us in the last skirmish with the Dragon-Clan raiders, but still some injuries, and that’s where my work began.

I’ve spent the last few hours in the infirmary with the other two healers patching everyone up. Exhausting but rewarding work, and far less grim for once. There was healing to be done, but no mourning. By the time we were done, no one was in poor enough shape that they would need to stay the night here, so one by one all of our charges were eventually sent home to rest, as were the other two healers. Except for me of course, I offered to stay behind and clean up so they could go to their families. Gathering up bloody rags and discarded vials, making careful notes of what salves and politics had been used so that we could resupply before we ran out, and anything else that needed to be set right. 

Margim often stops by to help me with this, but I have not seen her yet. I imagine she’s celebrating the victory with Elain and her other friends, or has already gone home to rest and is waiting for me there. She looked tired when she returned with the other warriors.

Just then, I hear the door slowly open and soft footsteps approach. It sounds like someone is trying to be quiet, not necessarily trying to hide their presence, but trying not to draw attention to it at least. I look up from what I was doing and see that it’s just Margim. I smile at her "oh, hello Mar!"

“Can you… help me with this?” she asks quietly, although I'm not sure what 'this' is exactly.

“Hm? With wh…” I start to ask, but as she approaches I see the answer and my words seem useless. She moves her cloak aside to reveal a large black stain on her garment, her blood, slowly oozing from a wound on her side.

“You’re hurt!” I exclaim, gently taking her arm and guiding her over to a nearby cot.

“I noticed.” She responds dryly as she sits down, removing her cloak.

“How… How did this happen?” I ask, examining the wound. There is some panic in my voice, although I try to hide it.

“One of the cursed Draig managed to land a blow.” she says bitterly “Only after I caved his skull in, but his dagger found its mark anyway.” This is from the skirmish then, but… that was many hours ago. 

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” I ask in equal parts confusion and worry.

“There were-” she winces as I remove her garment from the cut, I whisper an apology. I’m being as gentle as I can, but the blood has clotted to her clothes and there’s not a way I can do this that won’t sting at least a little. “-There were others more hurt. I would rather not take your attention away from them.”

“There was plenty to go around,” I take a nearby bowl of clean water and carefully start to clean the cut with a cloth, “and I would rather have tended to this sooner… What if it was-”

“If it was more serious I would have had no choice but to come earlier. But the cut was not deep, it could wait.” her tone is strangely defensive.

My brow furrows. Maybe the cut was not deep, but it was still in a place where any injury would be cause for great concern. She’s still bleeding, and ideally, she would not be.

“-really, it hardly even hurt!” she insists

My frown only deepens, it clearly hurts a great deal. Margim sees that I’m not buying the act and lets out a defeated sigh. “...I’m not a very good liar, am I?”

“Not to me, no.” 

I’m nearly done dressing the cut. Luckily she was right that it was not deep, there’s little else I need to do to it, but I am still troubled by the fact that she waited hours before letting anyone see to it. It was not severe this time, but the concerning thought of her trying to hide a more serious injury –and the damage that could be done by that– is still in the forefront of my mind.

“So… why did you hide it then?” I ask quietly.

Margim’s averts her gaze “I… did not wish for the others to see.”

There would have been no shame in it, letting the others know she was hurt, for the other warriors were even bragging about their own wounds when I saw to them. The Caru-Lûth consider scars earned in defense of their land to be a badge of honor, as proof of what they endured for the sake of love and loyalty. The numerous battle-scars Margim already bears were part of the reason they so eagerly accepted her among their ranks, as they seemed visible proof of her strength and devotion. I know Margim would not see the scars from her time in Mordor that way, but whether or not she agreed with their assessment did not change the fact that they respected her for them.

None of them, least of all those who had fought alongside her, would ever think of her as weak for something like this.

“I do not think they would have thought any less of you for it.” I try to assure.

“That’s not what I was afraid of… I… do not know what I was afraid of.” she mutters haltingly, barely loud enough for me to hear. She seems to be looking away at something that isn’t there. “...It's a force of habit, I suppose.”

Ah, that makes more sense then. It was not a fear of shame that caused her to hide the wound, but an instinct carried over from Mordor, where showing any physical weakness would only paint a target on her back.

“You have nothing to fear here.” I say gently as I finish with the bandages, although I do not know if my words will do much to help. It’s not an easy thing for her to unlearn, not when it was fear that kept her alive for so long.

“I know it… but sometimes I think my heart does not believe it. We are not always on the same page.” she mutters slowly

“I understand. Well, a little bit, at least. If there is anything I can do to help, please, let me know.”

“You have already helped a great deal, there is nothing more I would ask of you.” she sighs “I think I would just like to go home and sleep.” she pauses, a somewhat regretful expression on her face "and... I'm sorry to have bothered you with all this."

"It's not a bother to me at all! I'm just glad I you're alright now."

[jennyandvastraflint]

Hey @capybaraonabicycle. Kissing you on the forehead a thousand times for your beautiful, thorough comments on AO3, they made my day.😚

[shapa-likes-art]

God... I miss drawing and posting sm

[marypsue]

A two-sentence thought/observation I had about Stranger Things’ Vecna is ballooning into a several-page thesis on how to construct a memorable villain, visually/aesthetically, and you are all going to hear about it. Eventually. 

[cerosin-bis]

Thoughts on the ship between König and Horangi?

Unexplainably enough, I was never able to get into körangi despite liking both characters, I do find them interesting 🥺 I don't particularly dislike Körangi, but I don't particularly like it either. I'm just neutral sort of? I love that Horangi's VA supports it, it's funny bc he's unhinged even tho he had a couple I have my reserves with a couple things he said