#saguaro drabbles

[saguaroblossom]

something something sentences on a day

I have started a Thing™️. It's not a lot; it's likely not even going to be finished (ADHD brain, c'mon, we can do this). It's soft, it's not left my head, and it just has been where I keep going when I have a moment or two to just allow myself some space. But I've written about a thousand words of this thing and I've got a moment of bravery to just put a small chunk out there.

Henry finds himself today fixated on a couple of corners of the living room, where bookshelves line the walls and are decorated with the bits and pieces of his life he’s able to reveal and revel in. The shelves hold some books, the ones he’s wanted to make sure are on display as he works on some of his personal projects. It’s nothing like the small library up on the next floor, stacked with more books than one could reasonably imagine owning and possessing (but he is a Prince still, and so one should probably stop asking about the sheer amount he has - that is between him, his trust fun, and higher deities, thank you). Along with books are some photos in tiny pewter frames, lining the shelves in the spaces between thick leather-bound tomes. There's Pez, gloriously glam one evening with a fluorescent blue feather boa that probably costs more than the average apartment in Queens. Bea, in a candid shot, playing a vintage electric guitar and in her element. June and Nora appear in another, hooked arm-in-arm and beaming widely together, dressed in their “White House Trio” best: smart, business casual, utterly chic and cool. And, of course, Alex. Alex with his devilishly good looks, grinning at the camera and ensuring his dimpled chin is on full display, shirtless and casual at the lake house one time. The light loves him, a golden boy in the golden hour. It makes Henry catch his breath, knowing that he gets to have this. Alex is his and Alex – – Alex has left a bloody coffee mug on the shelf next to his volumes of obscure queer figures in European history.

Enjoy, my friends, and have a good week. ❤️

[frontierbound-archive]

Bring yourself back online (Westworld Vignette)

 @somniaxperdita​

“Bring yourself back online, Samuel.”

As Samuel is reawakened in the Mesa Hub, he has no comprehension of his true surroundings, or the fact he is sat completely naked, surrounded by glass walls; through which other hosts can be viewed, each in various states of disrepair. Samuel is still consumed by his last narrative, a narrative he created for himself, one that is painfully desperate and framed by loss, one that immediately causes a panicked outburst.

“Where is she, I can’t…God Damn it, don’t you understand, I have to find her!”

“Cognition only, no emotional effect.” Ford instructs, taken aback by the host’s distressed reaction; normally when a host’s mind is wiped, it resets their narrative, but it is clear the host believes he is in the midst of something.

“Find who, Samuel?”

When Samuel responds to Ford’s question, his tone is flat and while his usual accent remains, both his tone and his facial expression have been rendered utterly neutral. “Olivia, she left without me, I need to find her.”

Ford’s expression is quizzical as he turns towards his assistant Bernard. “Olivia? Who is Olivia, part of his narrative?”

Bernard shakes his head, at a loss for why this is happening. “She’s a guest Robert, a guest that left the park three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks ago...”  Ford’s surprise is obvious and as he turns towards Sam, there’s a slight smile that hints at warmth for his creation. “…three weeks and you’re still searching for her, still distressed…why must you find her, Samuel?”

Once again Samuel responds matter-of-factly and while there is no emotion in his response, it is clear his words are heartfelt, his gaze fixes on Ford as if he is confessing a deeply held secret. “I need to find her, I need to tell her I can be the man she needs me to be.”

This is not the response Ford expected, and immediately he is keen to know what motivation sits behind it. “Analysis...what prompted that response?”

Samuel’s posture instantly changes, stiffening to become more upright as his eyes de-focus, causing him to stare off into the distance. This time when Samuel responds, all traces of his accent are gone, the words are spoken coldly and automatically, as if stating an undeniable fact. “I love Olivia and I believe it is important to communicate this to her.”

Ford’s brow furrows; he had expected a much less emotional motivation. “Where did you find him, Bernard?”

“At the bottom of a ravine in the unclaimed territories, he was shot my bandits, he’s never ventured that far from Sweetwater before, he broke his loop. They tried to reset him, wipe the memories, but he keeps returning to this state.”

“Broke your loop over the love of a good woman…” Ford can’t help but chuckle, as if making light of the situation. “…there’s something almost poetic about that, wouldn’t you agree Bernard?”

Bernard however does not respond, finding very little to take lightly, the hosts are not supposed to respond this way; what is happening shouldn’t be possible.

Taking the tablet from Bernard, Ford hunts through the host’s code, looking for anything that might explain this strange behaviour. As he finds it, his eyes widen. “There are changes here, to his core code, but no author, strange, it’s something I’ve seen only once before. That’s why a basic wipe was insufficient. Have you reported this to anyone?”

“No, not yet.”

In truth Ford is relieved, the last thing he needs is for Behaviour to begin investigating this. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we Bernard, it’s only a slight indiscretion, a small error if you will and one I can fix.”

“Yes Robert.” Bernard acquiesces, in truth still unsure if he should speak to Theresa about this later tonight.

Ford takes a few minutes, working on the tablet to delete the rogue code, turning Samuel back to a previous build. Glancing up at Samuel, Robert smiles, issuing an instruction as if chatting to an old friend. “There, all better. Now, turn off your event log and erase our interaction Samuel.”

There is a slight flicker of Samuel’s right eye before his posture eases, a relaxed smile returning to his face, all signs of his previous struggle now gone.

“Where are you Samuel?”

“I’m in a dream.”

“That’s right.” Ford nods. “Now, it’s time fall into a deep and dreamless slumber.”

Hearing the instruction, Samuel’s head instantly lulls down to his chest as he enters sleep mode.

“Have them patch up these gunshot wounds and send him back to the park.” Ford instructs before standing to leave. Turning, he glances at the host one last time; there is still puzzlement in his expression. “Keep an eye on him Bernard and if you witness anything out of the ordinary, report it directly to me and only me.”

[titleknown]

Hola amigo. I’m surprised somebody’s here.

Who, me? I’m just a friend you haven’t met before. A slightly suspicious saguaro, shall we say. But, I am here with no ulterior motive.

You must be in some deep shit amigo. If you’re stuck runnin all the way out here. Might be some time before they lose your trail.

I’ll tell you what I can do amigo. While you’re waiting, I can make whatever you need to fill up this place. It’s a talent of mine, a gift if you wanna put it that way.

No price necessary either amigo. It’s dull as baked mud pies out here. It’s good to have the company...

So, yeah, a bit of a quickie this week. I’ve been stuck in Home Improvement Hell (Long; self pity-ish story) and I thought I might as well do something that doesn’t take that much time. And; I might as well do something fun with it.

So, reply or reblog with what you want to see added to the scene, and I will try to add to it in later blogs of it.

Feel free to ask questions of the Saguaro too! Ideally, I wanna tell a story; with viewer input for the unknown protagonist, because everybody loves reader-response-relevant storytelling these days!

It’ll be under CC when it’s done, hence the lack of the license for now. And, for the record, I imagine the Slightly Suspicious Saguaro’s voice to sound like Ron Perlman voicing an old west gunslinger. Take that as you will...

[simper-fi]

SSU Student Union (ft. Melanie and Graham in the distance)

[saguaroblossom]

some sentences sunday

oh my god look at me? with a fancy little graphic and everything~

right, it's still sunday here, so here's something:

No one told him that having a space that you truly can call your own means filling it. Certainly, he had his space at Kensington. The apartments housed his belongings and things, but it had already been done up in centuries old tradition. Gaudy, gilded, and heavy with the weight of monarchies even before his grandmother’s reign. Much like his title, it stifled him and kept him from feeling who he truly is: a young gay man, hopelessly romantic, wanting to tell the stories of the past, the present, and a hopeful future. Now here, in the brownstone, he’s been able to crack open the hardened stone of his soul and bare it to the few worthy in his life.

always open tags, though i know it's not sunday for a lot of people anymore 😅 still though, feel free to hop in!

[titleknown]

Upon the world where Babel lay,

Its memory gauntly fades

Even echoes have burnt their last,

The echos’ echoes worn to shades

There is a fable borne,

from traveller’s tales

I don’t know if it’s true

But it happens on, again and gain

So I will tell it to you

Upon a desert painted bright,

A cactus saw one day

A glimpse of true heaven’s light,

When the rain had passed away.

It painted itself in colored signs

upon its bonds did stray,

Like Jacob’s Ladder arcing,

It reached for truer day

Crack the moon and burn the sun

The skies began to part

And even soon the world did strain

Upon the master art]

Life was melting half away,

An act of white unbirth,

The cactus strained upon the grain

And slowly broke the earth

And black and thunder roaring light

The axe came chopping down

The librarian knew what towers brought

Her eyes contained no mirth.

Now slowly did the shining flesh

The blazing bones the boiling blood

Sink deep into the earth

The cactus knew not what it did wrong

And that but was its sin.

For towers grow when no one knows

The terror that they bring,

And though the librarian waits to speak

To talk about the while

She fears its sprout is crawling back

To save its favored trial.

And though she’s tried to speak it reason

Many times before,

It will still think, upon the wink,

The winning time will be twenty-four…

So yeah, a bit of another weird poem for the drabble! Trying to get the theme of recursive echoing of past mistakes despite the warnings, and more Babel stuff.

And yes, for the record, that librarian in the poem is the Librarian of Babel I keep referring to.

And, while the poem itself is CC-By-SA, the base concepts/characters/ect are free to use as you see fit under a CC-BY Vanilla 4.0 license so long as I, Thomas F. Johncon, am credited as its creator!

[titleknown]

TitleKnown’s Drabble Masterpost!

Yep, we’re doin this, an archive of my mini-stories; usually with attached art, organized by each rough-Storyline and also with a Misc section!

Character Intros (Probably Best To Read First):

Ooky-Spooky/Quentin Quigley

Carkinekros

Iga Rosencruz

Agent Freakout

Magnum and Opus

The Cybernetic Queen

Love Buster

Storyline 1:

The Crystal Castle

The Great Clock

The Cursed Cup

In The Halls Of The King

Storyline 2:

A Set Stage

Beastly Weather We’re Having

Torment Song Boogaloo

Free Her

Storyline 3:

A Message To The Man In The Moon

This Ain’t Halloween

Gettin The Christmas Creeps

The Reason For The Season (Is Mayhem)

The Final Holidaze

Storyline 4:

Down In The One Very Specific Dumps

Not So Worthless?

A BRIEF MUSICAL VILLAINOUS INTERLUDE

In Tribute To Jack Chalker

All’s Hell That Ends Well

Storyline 5:

Underground & Ungrounded

In The Hall Of The Mountain King

And Now For Some One Completely Different

Forcible Negotiation On The Low Seas

Invited To A Mixer No Not That Kind

Somewhere Be-Undersea...

Body Shock’s October Open Species Spooktacular!

Intro

Gothic Horror

Atomic Horror

Slasher Horror

Cosmic Horror

Cryptic Horror

Rakuga Horror

Sexy Horror

Secondary Gallery

Cavalcades O Crap:

Carkinekros’ Cabinet 1

Ooky’s Closet 1/2/3

BURN DOLL’S GUIDE TO CAPTIALISTIC CREEPAZOIDS!

Magnum & Opus’ Guide To Lesser Known Power-Ups 1/2

Misc (FOR NOW!):

And Now, Our Feature Mortification!

The Dark Fate Of President Nuke

Eat At Jo’s

Typical Wrestling

Short Fic 1: Gorbus

A Poem Of Revelation Sun

Terror And Consternation At The Kaiju Fight

G.U.F.F. Statement of Introduction

The Saguaro Of Babel

Dread And Abhorrence At The G.U.F.F.

Films That Don’t Exist [Pt 1] [Pt 2]

Saga Of Egg/Meanwhile At The Castle

Writing Advice:

Writing Good Wish Fulfillment Characters

Writing Good Creepypasta OCs

Writing Good Open Species

Writing Good Gamepastas

Other Writing

X Artworks That Should Be Made Into Figma Table Museum Figures

5 Characters I Want In Sma5h That Will Never Ever Happen

7 Fictional Substances In The Public Domain [Also Bonus Content From Myself/Others]

Storyline Gaiden/Novella (Linked to Storyline 1 & the novella I need to get to writing):

The Grave Of Bombers

The Field of Blue Flowers

Boarding-House Prelude (We Hope)

All these stories are CC-BY-SA for direct adaptation, but all the characters; settings; base ideas; ect are CC-BY Vanilla freely for you to use, and there’s even more in another masterpost of mine!

And, if you wanna support my art/writing and get previews beforehand, maybe check out my Patreon, send a few bucks my way!

And yes I know my defintion of “drabble” is apparently inaccurate to the use of the term in writing circles, but Either way, I hope ya dig ‘em, and I hope this is a good archive!