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theimpossiblescheme · 2 years ago

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(Kind Of Not) A Big Deal

(My next entry for Carbucketty/Pouncival’s day of @flame-x‘s Kittens Week--I hope everyone enjoys!)

This whole thing was stupid, really. It wasn’t like Macavity had really pulled his arm off or anything. It was just twisted around a little–it was Carbucketty’s own fault for getting so close. It would heal on its own, it was fine. Honestly.

Jenny and Tanto didn’t seem to think so. The former kept saying stuff like “Lucky you weren’t killed” and “What made you think you could take him on like that?” and “What were we supposed to do without you?��, all while shoveling spoonfuls of something that smelled like rotten fruit down his throat “for the pain” (what pain? He felt fine, truly he did). And the latter wouldn’t stop looking at him with those big, spooky blue eyes as they wrapped his shoulder in bandages that smelled like tea and dirt. And now here he was, stuck in the healers’ den until they decided he was well enough to leave. It hadn’t been so bad while Munkustrap and Alonzo were still here–at least when they fussed over him, they mentioned how brave Carbucketty had been to stand up to Macavity, even if only for a few seconds. They appreciated him, being a future Protector like them and all. But once they were healed up (and how unfair was that? They were older, shouldn’t that make them slower to heal or something?) Carbucketty was left alone once more. In the single most boring place in the Junkyard. Probably without even a cool scar to show for his time, like Electra was gonna have. Why didn’t she get sent here, too? At least with her around, he’d have someone to talk to.

Whatever Tanto had put in his bandage was making him sleepy, so mostly he just napped to stave off boredom. Half the time he’d wake up without any idea how long he’d been out, and Hathor would confirm for him that he’d missed most of the day. And every single time he was horrified–what kind of Protector slept most of the day? They needed to be alert at all times, sharp enough to hear a Pollicle coming halfway down the street! If they slacked off, the whole Junkyard might get eaten or killed or worse (he couldn’t actually imagine what could be worse, but other cats said that all the time)! He couldn’t keep laying around like this–he needed to get out of this den and back on duty!

So when Pouncival came to ask if he wanted to watch the morning patrol come in–”Maybe they’d let you walk them back to the gate”--of course Carbucketty said yes. Even if watching was all he could do, that’d be enough to prove he was ready whenever they needed him. He’d be like the wounded hero watching the army march home to victory. Maybe then he’d get more appreciation out of the rest of them.

“Help me up onto the wall,” he said, bounding to his feet and rolling his shoulder to prove it still worked.

Pounce nodded, but looked a little dubious–oh, Everlasting Cat, not him, too! “Or we could just go over to the gate and you can see through the bars. Wouldn’t that work, too?”

“Yeah, but it’s not as cool, and I won’t be able to see them coming from very far.” Pounce seemed to see the logic in that, nodding more vigorously this time and motioning for Carbucketty to follow him. Right along the far wall of the healers’ den, there was a seam in the tarp that never closed all the way–they could sneak out through it. Squeezing their way out, Pounce pulled over a stack of cardboard boxes and held out his paws for Carbucketty to climb up first. Stepping up was no problem, but as soon as Pounce’s paws began to lift he felt his head start to float over his neck and a slight stinging in his shoulders…

Oh, right. There was the pain. Well, too late now.

He managed to stay upright all the way to the top of the boxes–he couldn’t just topple backwards and make Pounce fall, too. Once he’d made it up onto the solid wall and could see out into the nearby alley, where Alonzo and Plato were leading back a group of Trainees with Electra and AJ bringing up the rear and laughing over a tiff with a particularly avid birdwatcher, Carbucketty felt the pain continue to shoot up through his arm and figured he’d better do the smart thing.

And fall forwards.

He heard Pounce’s panicked yelp and Alonzo’s equally panicked and very loud curse right before his jaw collided with someone’s shoulder. It took him a moment to realize that Plato had caught him on his back and was now giving him a look of horrified concern.

“What are you trying to do, dislocate your other shoulder?” Alonzo demanded, giving him very much the same look. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the healers’ den?”

His entire upper body felt like somebody had stuffed it with rocks now, but Carbucketty at least tried to shake his head. “I j’st wanted to wait for you guys,” he wheezed out once his lungs were cooperating again.

As Alonzo squinted over the wall–and Pounce quickly made himself scarce, the traitor–Plato lowered Carbucketty to the ground as gently as he could and Electra came running over. “You okay?” she gasped, paws hovering indecisively at her chest like she couldn’t decide to hug him or dust him off. He probably would have batted them away anyway–his head hurt too much to care.

“He’ll be all right, he’s gonna walk back with us.” Plato craned his neck down to look Carbucketty in the eye. “You think you can make it?” When Carbucketty nodded, Plato gave him a quick smile and motioned with his tail for everyone to keep going.

“I thought Jenny and Tanto were making you rest,” Electra said, refusing to leave his side even as he kept his eyes fixed in front of him. “After that whole thing with Macavity throwing you.”

Carbucketty shrugged. “I dunno, I just… didn’t want to let it get to me. Figured it was the brave thing to do, right?”

At that, Electra gave him a very familiar Look. The “All That’s Keeping Me From Punting You Across London Is The Fact That You’re Already Hurt” Look. But somehow affectionate at the same time. “You didn’t have to fall off a wall to make us think you were brave,” she drawled, the Look slowly softening. “You already pretty much proved that a few nights ago at the Ball.”

He just shrugged again, but he still couldn’t help the little bit of pride swelling up in him at the recognition. Especially from Electra, who was closer to his age and knew better than most adults about what really counted as a Big Deal. It wasn’t his shoulder, really… it was more about how it had gotten that way. About something other than a scolding for getting in trouble, because it wasn’t really trouble if it was for a good cause, right? The sarcastic little smile on her lips, right where the edge of her scar faded into the fur, said she understood.

She knew who he’d done it for. Not for himself, but for everybody else--the ones he cared about and all that sappy junk. That counted for something, too.

Just for that, he wanted very badly to give her a little shoulder-check for old times’ sake, but all he could manage now was a mild tap. She snickered and gently swiped at the back of his head. They’d have time later.

And as soon as they got back to the Junkyard, he was asking her to put Pounce in a headlock for him.

#Pounce ended up being more of a cameo role admittedly but I kind of love writing Carbucketty--what a delightful little scamp. XD #Also I've discovered I need to write more about his and Electra's friendship.#cats the musical #kittensweek #carbucketty #pouncival #alonzo #plato #electra #fanfic

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kadavernagh · 1 year ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Regan’s “apartment” PARTIES: Regan and Beau SUMMARY: Beau has come to greet the love of his life and Regan finds a love of her own.

Beau was nothing if not an impressive, and thorough stalker. Looking up Dr. Kavernagh’s address had been as easy as putting in her address in the system. Beau had appeared earlier in the evening, but was deterred by another car and the sound of another man. Jealousy had been his first response, but he was nothing if not patient. Beau waited for the man to leave, his car pulling away into the night, before walking up the driveway. His typical smile pulled at his cheeks. In his hand he had a three inch bone he found and ordered off of eBay because he didn’t want to come empty handed, and he thought it would be very kind of him to tell a full truth instead of a half truth. “Hello?” Beau called. “I’m here to fall madly, deeply and passionately in love with you.”

Another Tuesday, another evening struggling through her interactions with Reilly. Regan was tired of this sham of an apartment, and this stupid winter coat, and trying to make conversation that didn’t involve death or the last six years of her life. But Siobhan had entered the scene like a whirling hurricane, and now Regan wasn’t sure she even had the option to put up with things much longer. She couldn’t betray any of this to her brother. Every second around him felt like lies upon lies. It was hard to bear, and she doubted being across the Atlantic from him again would make it easier. She didn’t want to think about it. So she’d shooed him out as quickly as possible, not sure when or if they would get an actual goodbye before she had to leave.

She watched Reilly’s car drive off, feeling a heavy weariness sink into her skeleton, but there was someone standing there, in the driveway. She opened the door and squinted at them. A man, holding something – a bone! – with an amorous look in his eyes. “That’s… forward of you.” Regan said slowly, trying to process what was happening here. There was something off. Well, beyond the obvious eccentric boldness. She could feel the bone. It beckoned and pulsed and she was even willing to approach him to get a better look at it. But there was something else, there, too. Something familiar. Some part of her recognized it, but her mind kept turning the possibility away. Regan crossed her arms and slowly descended down the stairs, turning her nose up at the man. “I don’t fall in love, and I don’t think you should pursue something that will always be unrequited.” Her eyes roved from his face to the bone in his hand. “But tell me more about that.”

The familiar touch of magic spun around Beau, informing him he was in the presence of a fae. Beau looked between Regan, and the bone that she seemed so interested in. “Unrequited?” Beau slapped a hand over his chest. Rejection always stung, no matter how much he pretended it didn’t. Had he been forward? Yes, but look at him! He was a catch. He was basically the number one eligible bachelor here, if not in the whole world. Surely she could see how lucky she was to even be around him. So why was she more interested in the bone than him? Fine. He could work with that.

“This is the bone of my love.” Beau held the bone up between two fingers, turning it back and forth. He didn’t think it was untrue to call it his bone of love, since he bought the bone specifically to find love. Any other detail about it, he didn’t know. He’d only looked for the criteria of three inches long. Because Beau wasn’t a liar. Mostly. When he didn’t feel like suffering the consequences. “It’s a mystery bone.” To me, he added silently. “I will give it to my one true love and they will know what it is.” He hoped. She liked bones, after all. “And that is how we will know.” He would have loved to add something like, we’re meant to be or we’re soul mates, but that would be a lie. He hoped she would fill in the blanks for herself.

Regan’s skin prickled as she neared the man, but that didn’t make any sense. It felt like he was fae. But once more, something inside of her turned away from what was surely a coincidence. He was not fae. It was impossible. That was something she knew in her bones rather than her skin. “Did you know I was here?” She asked, taken aback. Despite everything she knew about not getting murdered by strange men showing up at her home unannounced, it almost didn’t matter. Not when he had such a nice find between his fingers. Besides, she had nothing to fear from others. She stood taller and prouder than all of them… even if she scarcely felt she did.

“Mystery bone?” Regan tilted her head, giving the bone a long look. It was no mystery. “That is a raccoon baculum. A bit on the small side, actually.”

“Yes, of course I know where you live.” Beau gave out a chuckle, a laugh that said women are so silly for asking such dumb questions. “I came looking for you specifically, because from our few online conversations I just knew we had a spark.” Because Beau was a charming guy, and rom-coms have taught millions of people around the world that creepy and stalkerish behavior was okay, as long as it was in the name of romance. Not that Beau considered this creepy or stalkerish. Everything he was doing here was romantic. It was something they could laugh about to their kids, grandkids and great grandkids years from now.

“You, you know what it is?” Beau was putting on a show. Beau was acting surprised. Beau was clasping a hand over his mouth and staring wide-eyed back up at Regan. “According to the story, that means we’re destined to fall madly in love.” It wasn’t a lie, because it was according to a story. Not according to the truth. The story may have been a lie, but referencing it was a nice little work around. Beau ignored the fact that the bone was on the small side, it was how bones were used that mattered! Not their size. Beau threw himself to his knees, arms held stretched out, bone cupped lovingly in his hands. “Regan, the story was clear. We are destined to fall in love, get married and have children. Will you take my bone in marriage?”

Regan blinked at Beau, momentarily taken aback by the theatrics of his declaration. For a second, she considered whether this was some elaborate prank or performance art, but the sincerity in his eyes told her otherwise. “Online conversations?” She leafed through her recent online interactions in her head, and recalled the strange, cheese-fixated man who had attempted to ask her out. This was, undoubtedly, the same individual. Beau. That was his name. “Ah. You. There is no spark. What you’re experiencing is your brain flooding with oxytocin and vasopressin. The weaker-willed among us have a difficult time resisting such base urges.” Regan was better. She could turn away from her brother. She could hold her breath as she drowned.

As Beau got down on his knees, a shock of dread ran through her. Just what was he… Oh no. Regan’s eyes widened and her slow heart felt like it had just stopped altogether like a sputtering, failing engine. She was right, and sometimes she hated being right. She had never been in a sufficiently close relationship to ever consider engagement being on the table. And here was Beau, a stranger, who was doing exactly that, proposing. And knew how to, in the way Regan had been taught was proper and right, although there were a few pieces missing. Cliodhna sometimes spoke of the baculum Regan’s grandfather had gifted her, and despite her tone lacking in any and all warmth when he entered her thoughts, Regan had once uncovered what she suspected was the very same bone, securely preserved with all of Cliodhna’s precious heirlooms.

This baculum practically shined in the sunlight as Beau held it toward the heavens, an offering. Regan backed up, her palms out in a stop gesture. “I don’t know who filled your head with these stories, or how you know about… this. But this is insanity. Beau, right?” She looked down at him, this desperate, sweaty, cheese-loving man, and something like pity bubbled up inside her. She refused to entertain it. But she would attempt to not leave a scar. “Beau, I don’t know you. At all. And beyond that, I’m not – look, if you want all of those things, you would never receive them from me.” She stammered. “I reject your proposal, in case that’s unclear”. But… “That is a lovely baculum, though. And I think you should give it to me anyway.”

"Vasopressin?" Beau spluttered out the word, eyes blinking rapidly as offense took him fully. Who was she to tell him what he was experiencing? Beau was the master of his own emotions, names, cheese puns, and much more. So what? She had a doctorate and suddenly she thought she was better than everyone? Beau knew how fae worked, she probably wasn't even a real doctor. She probably paid to have her credentials faked because she was probably older than science itself. "Old hag," Beau mumbled under his breath. He let that moment of anger flair around him before swallowing it back, forcing it behind his characteristic smile. It burned the muscles of his cheek. "I assure you, I am not week." Because he wasn't a week. Ha. He was weak, but she didn't need to know that.

The moment of the proposal had everything a fairy tale-obsessed little lad might have wanted. The shock of the woman of his dreams, brought wordless by the beautiful moment. Good weather. Not enough names were being offered in a dowry, since no dowry had been offered at all, but really who was he to be picky about that at this moment? He could get her name and the name of her family members later! Why did she need a name anyway? She would be Mrs. Doctor Bueford afterward. That was surely enough names for her. Except, apparently it wasn't picture perfect. Because she rejected him.

What an uppity prude.

"Hahaha, it's not nice to call someone insane." Anger bubbled against the surface of his skin, ready to turn him into a lava nymph, erupting with anger all over the situation. His smile remained in place. Practiced. Pulled. Stretched skin, like the small part of him not yelling. Then she did the unthinkable. She asked for the bone anyway. "NO!" Beau shouted, falling from his kneeling position, face first into the driveway pavement. His arms and legs thrashed around. "NO! YOU DON'T GET TO BREAK MY HEART AND KEEP MY BONE" Beau whined, his voice going up an octave in a shrill cry. "YOU'RE RUDE AND MEAN YOU DON'T GET THIS BONE YOU'LL NEVER GET THIS BONE." Beau rolled over, facing up at the sky. He held the bone up in one hand, then the second. He struggled to break it.

He wasn't strong enough.

Most of Regan’s romantic relationships had been short-lived and dispassionate; she rarely had time to engage in anything other than studying or, later on, her work; then, finally, her training. As a result, she was fairly certain she had never broken a man’s heart before. If anything, she was often the slighted party. You don’t care about me. You reek of death. You look at me like you want to cut into my stomach. But that was what she thought she was seeing here: heartbreak. And not in the more interesting way, involving aortic dissection or another cardiac pathology. This was the emotional kind. And despite Beau’s protests, that certainly did make him weak.

At first, she thought Beau was about to do some kind of… performance. Why else would he be on the ground, dancing? But it wasn’t a dance, she realized quickly. He was flailing. His limbs thrashing against the pavement, his eyes pinched shut in agony. His scream couldn’t match hers in volume, but somehow, she thought it had to be more grating. Regan winced through the tantrum, torn between wanting to make sure he didn’t injure himself in this display, and wanting to back off, never seeing him again. “Stop yelling and get up. This isn’t – I mean, sure, I suppose I am mean. Or maybe just not nice. Your life is not over.” She hesitated. “Yet.” Regan crossed her arms, grateful that the puffy coat felt like a barrier between the two of them. “I have had child patients whose maturity exceeds your own.”

And then his hand moved. And her mind jolted with the realization of what he was about to do. Regan reached toward him, mouth open, fingers outstretched, wanting to stop what was going to happen. But she was too slow. The bone – it did not snap. Her hand flopped back down. Could she just walk up to him and pluck the bone out of his hands? It was tempting. But his flair for the dramatics made her wonder if this was part of the act, feigning weakness. She didn’t want him to go from disagreeable to apoplectic. “Beau?” She asked, since he seemed to have quieted. He was looking up at the sky like he had been failed by the universe. “We do not get everything we want in life.” She looked at the bone. She was not able to apply her own advice to it. “When you’re ready, give me the bone.”

Nothing ever went Beau’s way. All he did was try and try. He was a good guy! He deserved good things to happen to him! He deserved the rewards of a good life! He deserved for women and men to be falling over themselves to get a chance with him! And all he got was this! Scorn! Pain! Immense disappointment! The pavement of the driveway hurt where his flesh met it, leaving red scrapes where he’d thrashed too hard against the rough surface. The driveway didn’t care about what he wanted just as much as the woman standing before him. Was he not sexy when he was in his feelings? Did she not see that he was the total and complete package?

Beau did get up. “I’m not getting up because you told me to.” He needed to make the distinction clear. This floozy would hold no power over him. Beau was a man of his own choices and considerable maturity. “Yet.” Beau repeated the word, rolling it over his tongue. It tasted disgusting. “Are you threatening me?” He asked, vitriol lacing his words. He was no longer hiding behind his practiced smile. He would waste no more unwanted time or energy on this wench. “You’re a lost cause.” He was searching for words that would hurt, he wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him. “Threaten me all you want. You’re going to die alone, completely unloved.” He paused; she would probably want that. Cold hearted as she was. “And your bones will rot.” He didn’t know if bones rotted.

“You’ll never get this bone. You’ll never get me. You had your chance, and you blew it. I hope you cry every night.” Beau made eye contact as he raised the bone to his lips. He was going to swallow the bone so that she would never get it. Beau shoved the three inches into his mouth and found himself choking on it before he could even get it down the hatch completely. He spluttered and spat. The bone landed on the driveway in front of him with a soft and wet thud. “Fine. Take that too. Just like you took…” He cast around for words, she hadn’t actually taken anything from him. There had never been anything there in the first place. “My happiness!”

A lost cause. Regan certainly was that, and she knew it. But as lost as she was, as much as the word failure burned in her brain more fiercely than iron, she was not, at least, a slave to her emotions. Not like Beau. Such a flagrant, dramatic display of unadulterated feelings was offensive. Regan shied away from it like it could be contagious. Sometimes emotions seemed like they were. Reilly’s tears made her skin crawl in a way that was difficult to bear, and whenever she turned away from them the effort only grew larger. Had Beau put on such a show at Saol Eile, they’d shred him apart on the spot, scream him to ribbons. “Death will take me however it wants, whenever it wants. Whether I die alone and unloved is of no consequence to me.” It clearly mattered to him, though.

She watched, equal parts disturbed and curious, as he lodged the bone into his mouth. Just what was he trying to accomplish? He couldn’t snap it in half with his teeth. There was no way. And as much as she didn’t like the thought of such a specimen being inserted into any one of Beau’s orifices, she was too thrown by the whole ordeal to cut in.

Whatever he was trying to do had failed.

Coated in Beau’s saliva, the raccoon’s penis bone shined even brighter. It called to her – that little, invisible line cast from it, straight into Regan’s center. She cherished it, every time. It sang against her skin. So when the thread tugged, she recognized the opportunity for what it was. The baculum could be hers. She reached past Beau, letting instinct draw her closer, letting death take the reins.

And then death attacked her. It became a violent, snapping thing, too big and heavy and present for her to hold. Her head filled with it. Regan’s knees buckled and her knuckles scraped against the pavement. She could feel dead earthworms and bugs and the smallest of scattered teeth and vertebrae. Nearby, a neighbor was slowly dying of atherosclerosis. Another down the street was going to be killed in a few weeks by an escaped hippo at the zoo. Cats, dogs, a dead bird baking on a rooftop, another in an oven. It was a mountain on her shoulders. Her ribs vibrated from the strain. A scream wanted out. Not because Beau was dying – this was something else, the torrent of her senses overwhelming her. She didn’t care for Beau – even held some disdain for this pathetic man, so far as she was allowed – but she wasn’t going to deafen him. Or worse. Regan dragged herself away from the bone, trying to create any amount of distance. It didn’t help at all. The world seemed to sink out from under her, but she did her best to claw her way up. Standing. She needed to get away from it all. As she ran, she could feel the dead grass beneath her feet, a field mouse decomposing, a hawk swooping down on a rabbit. “Keep it,” she tried to utter back, but it came out a harsh screech.

Regan sprinted back up to her apartment and slammed the door shut behind her, trying to keep out far more than just the decompensated man in her driveway. On the other side, that thin thread that had so lovingly and gently connected her to the bone was now a thick, creeping vine, trying to drag her out by the ankle. Regan swallowed with effort, closing her eyes against the death – all of the hundreds, and hundreds she could practically feel right beneath her fingers.

#writing #c beau #i love this lil guy. this scamp. this rascal #the logical follow up to my last thread?

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firstqueen · 2 years ago

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a woman about to embarrassed her adopted-daughter/great-x10k-granddaughter in front of her husband for the lols:

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no but seriously they take to parental roles SO fast oh my gosh. this is such 'parent supporting you but also teasing you about your crush' energy.

#. 🌻 ˗ˏˋ out of character ࿐ྂ #she is such a little scamp honestly !!#sorry i'm rewatching all the memories w/ sonia in them in order to write ALL of her dialogue down for myself

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outoftheirdifferences · 2 years ago

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Open starter?

She knew she shouldn't. Still, when she'd been rummaging through the overturned trash can and found a fancy collar with its license still attached, Angel had lost herself for a moment. A symbol of the home and family that she so longed for... clearly it wasn't meant to be in the trash, but that was neither here nor there. Before she'd really thought it through, she was slipping the thing on over her head. The weight of the tag, one that she was passingly familiar with but hadn't experience for oh so long, nestled against her breastbone, and for just a moment Angel allowed herself to get carried away in her fantasies.

Heart in her throat for a moment, she turned to the nearest reflective surface, expecting just for a moment for her reflection to take the form of a smart, happy house-dog staring back at her, a mirror into a life she could never have...

Instead, she saw only a filthy, scruffy street puppy playing dress-up.

Immediately disgusted with herself, Angel pulled back from the reflection. She felt stupid, what had she expected, what was she even doing? As much as she might wish and dream, she could never belong in such a life; and if the weight of the collar felt comfortable, well, it wasn't an honour that she deserved to wear anyway.

She sighed heavily.

Then, suddenly, her ears pricked up. She could hear the sound of someone approaching, paw pads on the ground... and it belatedly occurred to Angel just how dead she would be if Buster or anyone from the pack saw her like this. Wrapping her jaws around the collar, she tried to rip it off, but it got caught on her matted fur, she couldn't get it back over her head--

So it was a relief when the approaching figure resolved itself into someone other than who she had been dreading. Still feeling embarrassed and ashamed of herself, Angel nonetheless let the collar drop back into place for a moment.

"Don't ask. Please."

#talented [angel]#v; life on the streets #ic #open starter #so this is random but #I saw a symbol meme where one of the options was #to send it for the other muse to walk in on mine 'being well-dressed'.#and that reminded me of a line from an old Scamp comic #where he said that a well-dressed dog just wears a collar and license #and THAT just inspired me to write a random scene based around that idea for Angel and so #here we go! xD #Open to anyone but mostly other animal characters ^^

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maybeamiles · 1 hour ago

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Okay so I'm going through some of my old comic writing and I need to share some of my villain lines becaus HOLY SHIT. It's so clear that I'm trying to find this guy's voice because I've got some amazing badass lines like:

"I will always forgive you, even if no one else will."

And then goofy-ass shit like:

"You- you bastard!"

"On the contrary. My family has been free from such sin for generations. It’s too bad yours can’t say the same."

On the other hand, Astyanax has some very sweet lines that I absolutely love. Like look at these cute lines that he may not ever be able to say:

"It’s funny, for the first time in my life, I’m wanting to do things for myself and not just because someone tells me it’s the normal thing to do. And yet, I’m terrified to actually do any of them. I want to go out on dates and kiss people, but I’m scared they’re not going to like me, or that I’m going to hate it the way I hated being with that girl."

"You’re always saying I should chase after what I want, why is it so hard to believe I want to be with you?"

Thanatos is also just- a completely different guy. Like I can't even share his dialouge cause it's so different from who he is now. He was so nice and well-adjusted and talkative. I didn't introduce the rule of "he doesn't say anything he doesn't need to" until way later in my drafts and it SHOWS.

Also I wrote an entire draft about what the protagonists experienced as children and god is it tragic. Full-of-spoilers tragic but holy shit. It's a good tragedy. Here are some spoiler-free lines from one of these kids:

“I got kicked out of school for pulling out another girl’s hair. She started it. She was all ‘oh Melinoe’s so snobby, her parents work in the royal palace’ ‘hey Melinoe introduce us to the prince’ ‘Melinoe steal some dresses from the princess’ ‘Melinoe can we switch parents? I’d make much better use of them than you!’ So naturally I punched her, and she punched back, and I pulled her hair and a bunch came out of her head and then she started crying like a baby and the teacher said I had caused too much trouble and now I can’t go back to school.”

#wip posting #writing #oc stuff #Melinoe's such a little scamp I hope nothing bad happens to her :)

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kitchen-scamp-scraps · 10 months ago

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Hello!

Made this to put all my more creative posts in one place. I don't know what all that will include but I've put some guesses/plans down below. I get obsessed with my own work so please engage if you're interested!

Writing

Journaling/Solo RPGs

Thousand Year Old Vampire

The Fool Who Got Married (the solo or multi-player version, although I'll be starting solo)

Fiction (original and fandom)

So many Baldur's Gate ficlet requests from my wife

Potential write-ups of former ttrpg campaigns I've run

Drawing

Character portraits/design

Short comics

Charcoal and pastels or digital art most likely, might see some watercolor and ink as well

Misc

Historical factoid tangents pertaining to fashion, textiles, and their cultural significance

Patterning and sewing projects

Whatever other craft I'm into at the moment

#kitchen-scamp-scraps #art blog #intro post #drawing #sewing #writing

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a-little-scamp · 3 months ago

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"heart wont stop beating i hate this fucking feeling trapped with no control trapped with no allusion of any fucking control im trying so damn hard for something to just go right her heart wont stop beating hers next time mine right next to mine im holding her tight, tight like im losing all control like im losing her, her, her heart wont stop beating i fucking hate this feeling"

#scamp writes #hey Amy if you’re out there reading this fuck you #not really just #I fought so hard to get here and I’m always one step behind anyways #don’t make this any worse for z #please I’ll beg you if I have to #just #fuck you

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jockpoetry · 2 months ago

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womp womp

#me literally still last night: i feel too cringe #Well Anyways. more uh. probably to come #my writing #c: miasma looking a lovable scamp #i am not going to main tag in fact this it can get 0 notes like god intended

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literaryvein-reblogs · 2 months ago

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words for when your characters get into a fight (pt. 4)

Pain

ache, anesthesia/anaesthesia, distress, harassment, hurt, pinch, strain, suffer, torture, wrong

Attack

aggression, assail, beat up, blast, blind-side, bomb, brutality, charge, come at, coup d’état, embroil, encroach, fire, foray, go for, infest, insurrection, invasion, lay into, mug, occupation, offensive, onslaught, overrun, pillage, pounce, raid, ravage, rush, sortie, subvert, waylay

To destroy

ablate, abolition, annul, batter, bomb, bring down, burst, butcher, clobber, come unglued, consumption, coup de grâce, crumple, cut down, decimate, deforestation, demolition, desecrate, desolate, devastate, dismantle, dispatch, do away with, do in, end, endanger, eradicate, erosion, execute, expunge, exterminate, extinguish, finish, genocide, hara-kiri, homicide, jeopardize, kill, knock off, liquidate, mangle, massacre, murder, obliterate, paralyze, pillage, poison, prostrate, pulverize, put away, put out, quench, raze, ruin, sack, shiver, slaughter, smash, stamp out, subdue, suppress, undo, vandalism, violation, wipe out, wreck

To injure

abuse, ail, batter, beat, bruise, cost, crush, debilitate, deface, deform, desecrate, devastate, disagree, disfigure, expose, fragment, gripe, handicap, hurt, incapacitate, jeopardize, lacerate, maim, mar, mistreat, mutilate, outrage, paralyze, poison, pummel, repay, ruin, sabotage, scar, shatter, shoot, smart, snap, spoil, stress, taint, torture, turn, violate, vitiate, wrong

To make dirty

adulterate, clutter, mess up, smudge, stain, tarnish

To make hot or cold

air, chill, freeze, heat, melt, numb, refrigerate, shrivel, warm

To make wet

absorb, dampen, dip, drench, drool, dunk, extinguish, marinate, oil, permeate, saturate, souse, splash, spray, squirt, submerge

Military action

barrage, blow up, conflict, coup d’état, deploy, deposition, dethrone, disarm, draft, engage, enlist, explosion, incursion, induction, invade, maneuver, occupation, offensive, overthrow, rebellion, revolt, salute, station, volley, warfare

Bad person

accessory, accurser, adversary, aggressor, alarmist, antagonist, ass, assassin, authoritarian, barbarian, bigmouth, bottom feeder, bum, burglar, cad, captive, charlatan, clod, cold fish, conspirator, criminal, crook, culprit, deadbeat, delinquent, demon, derelict, desperado, devil, dirty old man, dolt, do-nothing, dope, dregs, drone, dumbbell, dunce, enemy, espionage, exile, failure, fall guy, femme fatale, fighter, firebrand, fool, fugitive, gangster, glutton, good-for-nothing, gossip, grump, hellion, hobo, hot dog, hypocrite, imbecile, impostor, incubus, insurgent, intruder, Judas, killer, klutz, know-it-all, lawbreaker, lemon, loafer, loser, lummox, mad person, maniac, menace, misanthrope, miser, mole, mountebank, naysayer, ne’ er-do-well, nuisance, nut, ogre, organized crime, parasite, pawn, pessimist, pill, placebo, prodigal, prostitute, psychopath, quack, rascal, renegade, rogue, ruffian, sap, scamp, schlemiel, Scrooge, shirked, shyster, simpleton, skinflint, sleazebag, sneak, sourpuss, spy, swindler, tattletale/tattler, thug, tool, traitor, troll, truant, tyrant, vandal, wanton, whipping boy, wimp, witch

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary. Writing Resources PDFs

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary Writing Notes: Fight Scenes ⚜ Word Lists: Fight ⚜ Pain

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