#once the first bits get written

[ourceliumnetwork]

okay so! in doing the WIP word finder things (super fun btw i should do that more) I acquired the wherewithal to finish the L&E prequel i may or may not have mentioned in doing that (because for some reason NONE of the words came up in it which was wild to me) because i was like "Well it might not have those words, but I could add some more" and then all of the sudden it was done?

Anyway I'm only mentioning this because i'm really proud of myself for Finishing Part of a Project and any time i do this i need to Make A Note so I Feel Good About Myself and also hopefully don't forget that it's finished. Admittedly it's Draft Numero Uno (that's number one but i'm using Spanish cause i'm fancy) (i don't know a lot more spanish than this i keep trying but i end up using a french accent 90% of the time anyway so i'm just gonna keep it to a minimum for now lol) but it's something.

OH also probably a good time to let you all know (or remind you if I've said it already it) that I'm Rewriting Lia & Em's Adventure in Thedas. You will not see it until it's done. You are likely NEVER going to see this prequel because it's primarily for my own personal use as a reference in later L&E-related storytelling. That said, just know it's Pretty Damn Good for a first draft and also I've Broken My Own Heart Already so expect more angst and shit in L&E the updated version (which will also hopefully be getting a different title).

(Do not fret, I will be leaving what I have of L&E up on AO3 for your perusal, and I will be likely drawing heavily from my favorite parts in the updated version. I think it's important to acknowledge what i've already written that people have enjoyed and keep it up, while also working to make it something I can be even more proud of in the future!)

So! If you would like to see more L&E-redux-related posting, please let me know. It's Slow Going (as I'm sure you were able to tell i have a LOT of WIPs currently running at the same time, seeing as how i had to narrow it down to the two y'all kept seeing bits of earlier today) and probably I'll mostly only have Plot Points I'm comfortable sharing as well as Vibes and potentially like. First runs of scenes that may or may not be in the final product.

[ryllen]

Look what came through the mail today! The letters & ( •̀ω•́ )σ 3 little gremlins from letterstoear.

Just wanna say i adore the flower stickers on the letters too much, they are that much worth mentioning.

[simcardiac-arrested]

never volunteer for anything university related man. also go listen to this

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Featured Fic Friday!

Welcome to Featured Fic Friday! A day where I, or someone who suggests one, tell you about a fanfic that I really enjoy! Spoiler's under the cut! Today's featured fic is...

The One Where Sans Tells It Like It Is. (Or: The One Where Sans Is Number One Dunckle) by marauding_bagel (General Audiences, Complete)

When Toriel asked him to attend the meeting in her place for one night he thought it wouldn't be a big deal. Turns out Sans could not have been more wrong.

A bit of a short fic, there's a surprising lack of fics with this concept! Even still, I like the way the author exectues the idea! I loved reading comics similar to this fic when I was younger, so this threw me back a bit!

I enjoy the way the author writes the characters, & how they have them interact with each other!

Spoilers ahead!

I really like how the author includes some of the reactions from the unamed parents also at the meeting, having mentions of nods of agreement & cheering when Sans insults Helen's brownies!

[radiomogai]

excuse me, you recently related a post with a tag asking if people remembered when people cared about recoining things and I’ve been thinking about it and I’m wondering if you meant that caring about recoining was good or bad?

We dislike re-coining. I don't have the spoons to explain the full part of it, but it mostly comes down to our more general criticisms of the extent of individualism in the MOGAI community (recoins, especially when they are of terms that have already been coined many times, often feel as though they are disregarding the contributions of other coiners, as well as ignoring the community symbol purpose of flags) and it feels disrespectful to the work of archivists. Every time we see another gender related to the song I/Me/Myself by Will Wood and nothing else, we feel like our work and our efforts in not only preventing terms from being lost as well as making them so easy to search for is, uh. Pointless. Not valued. We've spoken about this with some other archivists who have said they feel the same.

There are five (5) genders related to that song on our blog alone, by the way, and that's only counting the ones that have no other specifications. There are also five (5) related to the album Everything Is A Lot, and four (4) related to the song Thermodynamic Lawyer, and four (4) related to The Normal Album. Again, this is only counting ones without any other specifications, and are only the ones posted on our blog. This is a regular thing.

[misericorsalvator]

An Epitaph

Henry didn't know where he was. It was cold, freezing, but that was all he could tell, from the sharp chill that tore through his damp clothes, to the frigid air that felt like icicles in his lungs when he breathed. Even if he was someplace familiar, it would have been impossible to tell through the veil of rime in the air, the thick hoar that coated the ground. But wherever he was, he had to find shelter. soon, before his limbs grew any number that they already were and he lost the three fingers he had left on his right hand to frostbite. It took a good deal of walking, trudging through the snow, before he found something resembling sanctuary. A rocky hovel dug deep into a mountainside he hadn't even noticed was there. The crooked mountaintop loomed far overhead like a wind-swept pine tree, towering over the barren expanse and shielding the small patch of land near the cave's entrance from the worst of the snowfall. It was a narrow fit, the opening more narrow than a coffin, but it opened up into a wide chamber beyond, dark, lit only by the little light reflecting on the snow outside.

Panic stabbed at him suddenly. That chamber felt familiar, though he couldn't recall from where. The rockface of the walls was smooth, man-made, and the stalactites hanging from the domed ceiling above were unnatural, all the same length, jagged and sharpened to fine points. But he had no time to waste on the unnerving interior. The weather outside was getting worse, the wind howling like wolves on a hunt, and soon his shelter would be just as cold and dangerous as the outside. He had to think, find a way to keep the warmth in. Henry returned to the entrance. He twisted around in the narrow space as best he could and began piling up snow with his numb hands, stacking it, pressing it into shape, mouthing breathless curses to himself, until he had built a solid wall halfway up to his neck. It should last. He didn't know for how long, but at least for now, until he could catch his breath. It had to last.

Henry slumped against the wall of the cave. The barrier he had built offered some protection, but he could still feel the cold creeping in, seeping through the gaps and cracks in the snow. A damp chill gnawed at his bones, freezing the air in his lungs. He knew he had to keep moving, to do something, anything, to stay warm and awake. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep. Not here. Not now. But his limbs were leaden and his body creaked in protest with every movement. His teeth chattered as he tried to think, tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. The harder he tried, however, the more his thoughts seemed to slip away, like sand through his fingers. Panic clawed at his chest once more as he looked around the cavern. The walls seemed to close in, the smooth stone shimmering with a thin layer of rime frost. The ceiling above with the unnaturally sharp stalactites, loomed over him like a mouth full of fangs. He had to get out.

Henry pushed himself off the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. The snow was piling up faster now, further in through the entrance than the wall he had built, and he frantically began to shovel it away with his hands, trying to clear a path through the narrow gap. He shovelled harder, floundered, grappled til his fingers were too numb to move, but for every tiny hopeful opening he made, more snow took its place, as if the storm outside was determined to bury him alive. The cold was unbearable now, seeping into his very soul. Outside, the wind roared, a feral sound that echoed through the cavern and made the air thick with cold. Each breath now was a knife to the chest, each inhale burning his lungs. The snow crawled closer, blocking the entrance fully, and began to cover the cave floor inch by painful inch, forcing the hunter back step by painful step.

Henry's mind was reeling. He stumbled further into the cave, away from the encroaching cold, the bones of his legs creaking in protest. The deeper he went, the more the walls seemed to close in on him, the smooth rock pressing down, suffocating. The quiet there was unnerving, an oppressive stillness that made him painfully aware of his own laboured breathing and the pounding of his heart. The silence of the grave. For what felt like an hour, he pushed himself forward against the stone walls, cowering under the stalactites which were now low enough to graze the top of his head. No matter how far he went, the snow followed close behind, blocking the way back. Henry's movements grew slower, more sluggish, until he could no longer outrun it, and that white frost began piling up around his boots. He felt the fight leave him, his breathing weakened, his heartbeat slowed.

Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw it—a single snowflake, delicate and perfect, drifting down from the ceiling above. His breath caught in his throat as he watched it fall, impossibly slow, through solid rock. It glowed faintly in the dim light and Henry’s eyes followed its descent, almost hypnotized, until it landed softly on the ground. On something dark, something that wasn’t stone. He crouched down, his stiff knees cracking in protest, and wiped away the snow, his fingers brushing against a cold, unyielding surface.

A hand.

His hand.

His breath caught in his throat. He was looking at himself, at his own lifeless body, crumpled and broken, half-buried in the snow. The wounds were horrific—deep gashes and punctures that were draining the life out of him-- and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn't real.

The snow, the cold, it was all in his head, growing blurry as his brain ran out of oxygen. And the cavern wasn’t just familiar—it was the place he was dying, right now, in the real world. The place where his body was lying, bleeding out into the cold ground, his blood darkening the stone ground.

For a third time, panic surged through him, but it was laced with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. The wind howled louder, and now Henry could make out voices, battle cries, screeching and yowling in twisted satisfaction. The snow now poured into the cave through the solid ceiling above, burying everything in its path. He wanted to claw his way out, to escape this nightmare, but his limbs wouldn’t respond. The snow was too thick, too heavy, pressing down on him from all sides. As his vision began to blur, the walls of the cave pulsed, breathing with a life of their own, in tandem with his own slowed breaths. The snow continued to fall, endlessly, burying him, until all he could see was white. And then, from the heart of the storm, he saw a figure—a tall, imposing silhouette that moved with unnatural grace, cutting through the blizzard as if it were nothing. Henry tried to focus, but his mind was slipping, the edges of his consciousness fraying like old cloth.

His final thoughts drifted to Bran. A deep guilt welled up inside him. He wouldn’t make it home for Christmas this year. He wouldn’t see his boy’s face light up when he opened his presents, wouldn’t hear his laughter echoing through the house. Regret gnawed at him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. In his last moments, as the darkness closed in, Henry barely registered the sharp pain in his chest—a bite, cold and searing, as if winter itself had latched onto his heart, and his eyes froze over with unshed tears until the world faded and he breathed his last.

In a long-forgotten catacomb in Wales, as the last drop of Henry's blood soaked into the humid ground, something ancient stirred. Beneath the layers of earth and stone, within the crypt that had long been forgotten, a pair of eyes snapped open. After centuries of entombment, something awoke. The blood of the dying hunter seeped into its consciousness, filling it with the remnants of Henry's life, his memories, his regrets. And once the blood had ran dry, the ancient knight rose from his tomb, his eyes burning with a cold, unholy fire.

He tore through the killers, the blood-thirsty beasts who had chased their prey to the ancient tomb, splattering the walls with their undead blood that burnt to ash, until none were left. Then, he looked down at the broken body of the hunter who had unwittingly become his saviour. With a grim sense of purpose, the knight knelt beside Henry’s lifeless form. He whispered words in a dialect long dead, a prayer, perhaps, or a vow. Then, with a reverence reserved for fallen comrades, the knight lifted the hunter’s body and carried him deeper into the crypt, where heroes were once laid to rest, where the knight's own tomb stood, broken apart from within. The hunter was gone, his spirit entwined with the ancient knight’s own, but his legacy would live on, honoured by one of the very creatures he had once sought to destroy.

The knight sealed the tomb with a final, solemn gesture, then left the catacombs behind and stepped out into the warm summer night, into a world which had long outlived him.

[psygull]

First Snow (2006)

"Hey, they say it's gonna fuckin' snow down here this year, can you believe that?"

[catboy-jupiter]

i'll be like "i'm a god of writing" and then an hour passes after i post or submit something and i'll be like "i'm so dumb there's so much i could've done better if only i'd waited a bit and looked at it with fresh eyes i would've noticed how much it sucks & what i could've improved that looks so much like first draft material there's so many revisions i could make why i am i so impulsive and overconfident" and then i'll start writing something else and be like "i'm a god of writing" again

[wanderingmind867]

Welp, I just learned the new Superman movie made Superman's parents evil. Apparently. I skimmed one article that said Jor-El and Lara are apparently portrayed in a less than flattering way. And then I heard stuff about a Harem? I don't know, but I don't see how that's funny or even a good thing for a movie to feature unless it's trying to be tasteless. I could be wrong. Again, I don't watch a lot of movies. I could be very wrong. But I don't like this picture i'm receiving. I'm reminded of reading John Byrne and his US-centric beliefs that were pretty anti immigrant (despite him being an immigrant himself, born in the UK and raised in Canada). Whenever US conservatives say something is "far left", I would assume it's actually closer to them than they'd ever realize. They lack awareness to even know when something could be likeable to them. I'm throwing darts at a dartboard while blindfolded with these assumptions. But I did just think of that metaphor on the spot, which i'm sort of proud of.

Oh, and this is random, but Christopher McDonald was the voice of Jor-El on Superman the Animated Series. And he's also a big live action actor. He's 70, but he's apparently been in two movies this year. And I've seen him in ads, too. So he's well known. I think it's a missed opportunity not to have had him appear in a small scene or two. It isn't really necessary, but seeing him in ads on tv caused me to think of this. And since I thought of it, I felt I might as well share this.

PS: I've been decently critical of that Superman movie here. But I can think of at least one small positive: Krypto being there is a nice thing. He looked cute in the few images I saw, and i'm glad he's getting more attention. That's my one major positive here. It's not much, but it's still a positive.

Edit: I deleted this and reposted it to account for new facts. Christopher McDonald is in the movie, but he's apparently playing a character who's always been african american. And so...that gives me iffy feelings. Christopher McDonald (if i am indeed thinking of the right guy) is not african american. So I mean...I don't personally like that. Sure, I think Perry White is african american now. But making ron troupe, who research tells me has indeed always been african american...that's kind of weird to me. But I'm kind of scared I sound like an idiot for this. So i'll shut up now.

Edit of an Edit: I was thinking of the wrong Christopher McDonald. But that's because I was partially tricked by news websites that used photos of the wrong one. I still think the Christopher McDonald I was thinking of would've been a good cast addition too, but at least I was proven wrong in a good way. No bad example of someone if african american identity being played by someone while. But I feel like I'm digging a pit for myself to die in, so I'm not touching this post anymore.

[amelikos]

Episode 100.. soon.

[cepheusgalaxy]

I have written 1500 words on chapter 5 😌

[lieutenantselnia]

This week are the final exams at Austrian high schools and even though it's already been a couple years since I've been through that myself, I still follow this one meme page on Instagram where the students always send in memes afterwards relating to the exams, like where they make fun of weird exam questions or let out their frustrations about bad task descriptions and such. I don't know, it's somehow kind of entertaining to try figure out what the given topics were only based on the memes😂

[2016jeeprenegade]

urrruuguh. trying to motivate myself to finish my podcast script by telling myself I can't get stickers for my work water bottle until i finish it

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[happyccino]

oh

that's

oh

i'm

i am legitimately tearing up oh wow