#project: pen to paper
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aimzicr · 1 year ago
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Someone's in the garden, and there shouldn't be. "You shouldn't be here," she tells him, to his face, like she has the right to be here and he does not. She comes striding over to him, her hands holding her skirts so that each step can be longer.
He looks up at her face before he accidentally catches a glimpse of her ankles. He doesn't think he recognises her, but he's never been good with faces. "Well, I came out here to get some air. It was getting stuffy in there." Too many women with cloying perfume and powdered faces and pressing close to try to dance with him. Too many advisors staring him down like he was on the verge of making the wrong choice. Too many people just... there. "What about you?" He challenges the stranger. "This is a private garden."
"Someone's planning to kill the prince tonight."
He feels his heart leap into his throat. The world fades away at the sudden terror.
She's continuing, "I'm here to stop that from happening," and she isn't even looking at him. She's scanning the dark gardens and letting her eyes raise to the castle parapets and windows. A slow economy of movement, like he'd seen the stable mousers and that owl that roosted in the chapel do. A predatory glance, patient and certain that prey will appear. (And she isn't bowing to him, does she not know who he is?)
He swallows, and folds his hands behind his back. "Well, the guards surely--"
"They won't," she interrupts, her eyes snapping to him, and he flinches as though she might peck him or something. She takes a breath, lets it out through her nose, then tries in a more diplomatic tone. "I tried telling the guards. I wrote letters to every administrator. I sought audience with noble families. I tried," she insists, "But no-one believed me. So, here I am, in this..." She looks down at her dress, and her lips twisted sourly, "Outfit." Like there is no term more insulting that she can call to mind right now that would be appropriate to use in company. "Blending in." Her gaze scans the gardens again, then flick briefly towards the ballroom windows.
"So..." He's still reeling, still trying to recover. "You weren't... invited?"
She stops, and looks at him, and she gives him the most withering look anyone has ever given him.
"S-sorry, I didn't mean..." He winces. "Are you sure?"
"I'm positive. I have the evidence." She looks back to the ballroom, her hands kneading at fistfuls of her skirt, like a cat planning to use its claws. "No-one believed me. So either they're overconfident in their security, they don't like the lower class challenging them, or they're involved in the plot."
The idea that there could be threats nearby has been drilled into him since he was young. He has a food taster, he has bodyguards, he has rules and regulations that keep people from getting too close. But it's a shock to hear it said by someone else, so bluntly and confidently. Someone's trying to kill him, tonight. And they could be someone close to him? Someone he trusts to keep him safe?
"Complacency, pride, or complicity." She frowns. She has very strong eyebrows. "I'm not sure which is worse." She looks back at him. "So you shouldn't be here, in case someone is sneaking in through the gap in security here."
"There's a gap in security?"
She tenses. Her eyes are very bright, all of a sudden. "You should go inside, sir. Now."
"I --" Why is she looking at him like that? Why is she suddenly picking up her skirts and running, running at him, like that? He brings up both hands to shield himself from her, and feels himself losing his balance and stumbling back to the gravel and sprawling.
The woman's wig, impaled by a thrown blade, plops down on the ground beside him. Just past the wig, he sees the woman's ankles. The latter feels more terrifying, because he knows he shouldn't be looking at them, but they're right there and they're very nice and --
"Gods fucking dammit!" She reaches down to her ankles, grabbing one of her fine and gleaming shoes, and lobs it into the garden. Someone's rapid footsteps are moving away from them. The gleaming shoe lodges itself ineffectually in a topiary, missing the fleeing figure. "Fuck!"
He's never heard anyone curse like that in his presence before. He looks up at her in wonder - and then panics, because it looks like she's bleeding.
It isn't until she bends down to pick up her wig and the dagger that he can see it isn't blood cascading down her shoulders: its her hair. She makes eye contact with him, fierce and terrible, yet her voice is very calm and very polite. "Go inside, and raise the alarm. Where there's one assassin, there's always more." She scoops the other shoe off her other foot, picks up her skirts, and runs into the dark.
He scrambles his way up the stairs and back into the ballroom. At least people take a disheveled, screaming prince seriously. The guests are sequestered, guards fill every hallway and block every door, and two more assassins are chased off the property.
The next day, the castle is on lockdown. The king, old as he is, is still capable of tearing the advisors a new one. Security hadn't been enough. Multiple assassins after his son. Why hadn't there been any preparation for this?
"There was a woman," the prince says, speaking up for the first time in a meeting since... well, since ever. "She said she had evidence. She tried to warn us, but no-one listened. She saved my life."
"And who is this woman, exactly?"
"I don't know," the prince admits. She'd had red hair and strong eyebrows and bright eyes, and reminded him of an owl or a cat, but he had no idea what she looked like. He was terrible with faces. But... "But she left this behind."
He brings his hands out from behind his back, to the gleaming shoe that he'd picked out of the topiary. A single shoe, too sturdy to be a dancing shoe, and stitched with impatience and glass rather than silk or pearls.
"She wasn't invited," the prince says, with a faint smile, turning the shoe over in his hands. Then he looks up at the room. Everyone is staring at him. But he's not scared, not anymore. Maybe this strong woman's shoe is imparting some kind of power to him. He'd like to thank her. He'd like to borrow a bit more of that strength for later. "We should find her. I need to thank her. And you," he tilts his chin at the room, at the advisors and councilmen, "Owe her an apology."
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aimzicr · 1 year ago
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The Court of The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned has never seen such uproar. His daughter has never been so loud, so furious, has never filled a space with screams and feathers and the blast of a winter storm. And all over a mortal? She is bid to be silent, and she refuses.
"There has been no crime," the King insists, the pressure of his authority coming down like a hammer. "Behave yourself in my presence."
"No crime?!" Her voice has never been so loud. The air crystalises around her. "They were mine and my own, and stolen from me!"
"Were they?" The King asks. "I saw no brand upon them. They had not eaten or drunk of your table. They were mortal. Therefore, I am not bound to answer your call for vengeance." His voice softens, as though in appeal to the one he calls his daughter. 'It was just one mortal, dearest. You can find another."
Agony at his description of a friend unbound to law turns again to fury at the idea that such a person could be replaced. "Never. Never will I. And there must be justice for this!"
"You defy your father's judgement?" The Honoured Dealer smirks.
Other members of court are not as bold as he, and hide their smiles behind fluttering fans or raised hands or carefully-maintained glamour. There has not been such entertainment had in centuries, to see the polished and poised Winter Swan raving and weeping and defying an open order from her sovereign.
The Swan rounds on the Dealer, hissing, teeth bared, an inch from his face. He flinches, but holds his ground. His confidence is not shaken when she whispers her promise: you shall bear the blame for what is to come. Then she twists herself into feathers, and in swan form she leaves. The whole countryside - fae territory and mortal scope alike - ring with her agonised and mournful howls all night.
Things move too quickly, then, for the Courts to understand. For them, who have centuries of seasons, a week should be less than a blink. Yet in a week, the territory of the Dealer and his kin is laid bare. Mortals come in their greedy droves, with picks of iron shattering the border stones and axes of iron to cut down the ancient oaks. When the Sisters of the Petal went down with song and seduction to call mortals to their doom, these greedy men threw handfuls of salt, and bound each woman to a name, and burned them at stakes of yew wood. A week, and the ancient untouched forest became a logging camp, and all ancient mystery was stripped from this part of the world.
The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter, where she stood upon her frozen pond. He scolded her for her vengeance, for stripping the Courts of one of their own. The Winter Swan looked on her father like she would look on a hated stranger, and told him to go drown himself.
Mortals continued to learn about the sacred mysteries that kept the Courts safe. Rivers were dammed, lakes were dredged, standing stones were defaced and toppled; salt was scattered, names were used like lassos. The Summer season was stripped and shrivelled. Autumn and Spring soon felt their territories likewise invaded, and could do nothing. They were named, and they were burned, and they were lost.
The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter again, and told her she had gone too far. If this continues, there will be no court left. The Winter Swan arched her neck proudly, nodded, and told her father to go drown himself.
Songs full of salt and iron and binding names were sung by children, taught by the wailing bird that circled overhead. Axe and shovel and poker and spear press and push and dig into the territory of the fae. The Courts are broken. All will become fable, or forgotten.
The-King-Who-Would-Be-Crowned sought out his daughter, one last time. "All this for one mortal? Our world ends, our lives end, because of one mortal? You cannot follow him if you die! You will be unmade, and for what?"
"For one mortal," she said, with a cold smile. "For one dear friend."
Bonus:
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A fae forms a genuine bond of friendship with a human. As a prank another fae decides to kill their friend. Their ruler decides the murder did not violate any fae laws and issues no punishment, so the first fae dedicates their life to getting revenge by teaching humans all the rules of the fae.
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stil-lindigo · 2 years ago
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the parade.
a short comic about when love dies slow.
support me on patreon
Things you may have missed:
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beartitled · 5 months ago
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The bear creatüre has a bachelor degree now
Yea I graduated uni today 🐻‍❄️🎓🎉
Feels weird tbh 💥
My brain did not register this information yet
Diploma comic reveal when? 👀
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livfordoodles · 6 months ago
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Diego caught a cold
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sysirauta · 6 months ago
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Deer project 3/13
Sunwheel Raybeam
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xshinina · 1 year ago
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Miku x Pokémon has been one of the best ideas anyone has ever thought of
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apollokyler · 8 months ago
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course paper defending goes like--- 🦢hyoga's line, in russian: "просто поставьте зачёт..." (= "just give me a passing grade...")
GO HYOGA!!! YOU GOT THIS !!!
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tenchikotheartist · 10 months ago
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I've been working on this for months and at this point, I need to call it or I'll never be done!
Tumblr hates my fancy pieces so plz click for quality Q_Q
I've loved Bee and Puppycat since teenage me saw the original pilot! An oddball gal getting cute outfits and going on a wacky planet with her weird cat-dog-bestie-thing is such a fun idea! I saw this dress on Pinterest and it was downhill from there xD
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dawnthefluffyduck · 11 days ago
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Had to make a pigeon decal for a class, I kinda like how it came out
edit: forgot that a little bit of shading goes a long way (also changed the line color, might still darken it)
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aimzicr · 1 year ago
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A bunch of would-be adventurers coming into the Adventurer Mart's Bhaalspawn Experience, stepping into the Spooky Dungeon and reading the plaques and talking about the way they would have handled themselves if this was their first dungeon, checking for traps, swinging some punches at the mannequins etc.
Then they turn the corner and see someone kneeling down in the middle of a room full of Spooky Cages, someone who gets up and leaves as soon as the group calls out to them. They don't respond, but they leave behind two bouquets of flowers. On closer inspection, the flowers are labelled: one is 'for Khalid' and the other one is 'for Dynaheir'.
"Huh," the visiting would-be adventurers say, "Weird." And then they move on with the tour.
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aimzicr · 1 year ago
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“Alright, we’re about to head into the dungeon. Daz has gone ahead to check for traps, but we’re pretty confident -- hey,  M’stha’venalth the Destroyer, thanks for the three months, really appreciate it -- yeah we’re pretty confident we got the, uh, we got the thing in the bag, shouldn’t take more than a few sessions at best. Who needs a long rest, am I right? Oh, just got a Sending from Gleek, ‘are you gonna need Darkvision again’, nah, comrade, torches all the way. You know we gotta keep it real around here. Plus I love the burning pitch smell. Okay, good vibe emojis only, viewers, we’re going in!”
You're a Warlock. But instead of drawing power from a higher being, people can choose to donate a portion of their magical power to you. In exchange, they can scry on your adventures and can send telepathic messages to you, as well as make requests. It can get annoying, but you make it work.
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guardianofnightmares · 1 year ago
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… yeah, I got (partially) sucked into BG3… thanks to a video from YT about a certain romance option (if you know, you know). Brainwash is real, dudes, join the club, we welcome everyone with open arms tentacles.
Another addition to an “album” of works which were drawn solely with pen(s). These dudes were created during ride on a bus, so, you may notice where my hand was jostled around a couple of times.
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danneroni · 1 year ago
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Duck Shuffler 🦆🎰🌟
The final pages of my tan sketchbook! Flip thru video soon 🤭
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bythehearts · 1 month ago
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not to bring tiktok drama on tumblr but like every time a ‘scandal’ comes out with one of these ‘production companies’ that make fan films i always hope we’re finally gonna discuss how they professionalize something that should be an hobbyist endeavor… and yet every single time i’m disappointed.
#like I know we’ve been talking about it here on tumblr and i remember seeing like one or two videos on tt about it#but other than that creators really don’t seem to be engaging critically with the impact that the very nature of what they’re doing has#and look i truly do love the art that some of the people involved in the project make#like arone is truly one of the most talented cosplayers i know#ethan is an amazing actor and I’ve followed him since before he was even in the marauders#dorian is a great writer and idk the others as well but I’m sure they are all great artists#((naming the just cause i feel like being vague would be worse in this case))#and i do believe they engaged with the project with the best of intentions#without knowing or trying to afford grace on past controversy#and it truly is a horrible predicament to have your work be tainted like that for something you had no control over#but like i do think we should be questioning the very idea of how this fanfilms have been made is inherently a problem#like fanfilms are essentially fanfiction on camera#so as long as a few cosplayers want to get together with their iphones write a script and shoot at the local park I don’t have a problem#but if you are putting in place a product that somehow requires you to fundraise consistently for two years then I have a problem with it#ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE SELLING THE SCRIPT TO DO SO#cause even if that script hadn’t been ai generated#that script is fanfiction and you do. not. sell. fanfiction.#seriously like… do we need to go over our abc again?#like fanart and cosplayers are a bit different in the sense that people sell fanart/do commissions and they can be professional cosplayers#but for any other fanmade project that requires you to put pen to paper (or keyboard to chatgpt ig)#you need to be engaging with several ethical questions regarding any exchange of money#and personally i don’t think that there’s been engagement with those ethical reflections#and this isn’t about any of the people involved and not even about mischief productions specifically#it’s about a wider issue in how we have been collectively normalizing a way of doing things that should not be normal#and like yes star using ai and being overall not good is bad but like can we talk about EVERYTHING ELSE please
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dangus-doo · 11 months ago
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Quickswitch Chapter 1
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