#so yeah. options. have fun!

[cupcakes-and-pain]

I want to push myself with some small writing projects. But the question remains, which to do first? (I will do both of them eventually. This is just about which gets done first)

Read tags for more info, ran out of room on poll :(

[meamiki]

mira !!! :]

[sysig]

Chewtoy (Patreon)

[beetlethebug]

okay so i'm thinking about like. in my emmrich x rook x lucanis x spite polycule, it probably bothers emmrich (and spite) that spite cannot be heard by rook. so, he and bellara team up to use the power of ancient elven technology, some magic, and a whole lot of sleepless nights to make something for spite to speak into that allows rook to hear them. kind of like an object for him to possess, in a way? in my mind it's like an earring or ear cuff, and it's a set. lucanis, emmrich, and rook each have a piece, so no one gets left out. in my mind it works a lot like the earrings of sending from the vox machina season of critical role. they can touch the earring and send a message to a person who has an earring.

they spend a whole day just testing the limits. can spite speak to rook when they're all the way across the lighthouse? how about half-way into arlathan woods? can rook speak to them underwater (quickly abandoned for obvious reasons). spite is so so happy for rook to be able to hear him that he talks to them all the time. Lucanis finds it hard to be annoyed when Spite is so eagerly and happily saying "Hi, Rook," for the fourteenth time that day. Maybe it's because he gets to hear Rook giggle and say, "Hello, Spite," back.

spite being able to ask every question that he wants! spite who has two patient teachers (and lucanis) readily available to answer any question that he has. yeah, sometimes they're silly. but it's also so fucking charming when spite goes "do you like this?" and then seeing twelve of them in their room later. spite who can now ask for help when lucanis cannot. who isn't afraid to admit when they're struggling because what's the point? help is right there and he can reach them now!!!!

spite who is so happy because now he can flirt with rook directly! and he can flirt with emmrich and rook when they aren't in the same room!! spite who will get on the line and demand manfred updates. emmrich who finds a way to fashion it for manfred to wear so lucanis and rook get to hear manfred and spite chatting away. (it's actually very endearing. they forget that the others can hear and talk about how much they love and care about their people and they all get a little tear eyed).

i just!! i 100% think that between everyone in the veilguard they can absolutely provide spite with a vessel to communicate!

[muscariii]

Is this anything? (also poll below)

Quick shitpost I had time for and also doodles based on a picture I'll add below.

Soooo. That poll I mentioned about the comic. I'm putting it in this post. I would appreciate all feedback from those of you that are interested in the Rasha comic and its future.

Basically like I mentioned in another post, I'm currently overworked at uni and making next parts for the comic will be difficult with the amount of things I have to prepare to pass the semester (meaning it will take me ages to get it done). That's why I want to know what you guys would prefer.

This is a random picture I found that I showed to my brother and he said I should remake it with Rasha.

[meatball-soup]

aint even lying there buddy, my name checks out

[squuote]

there’s probably a reason for why the narrator’s voice is much more monotone in the original mod compared to the ultra deluxe or even the 2013 version, but. i think it is fun comparing the different versions. It almost creates a greater sense of character growth within the narrator. From a less emotive and more cynical other worldly being to an expressive and more humanly being. non human characters growing a sense of humanity over the course of time and whatnot. ngl, it makes me crazy. I think about the comparison so much, it’s just such a fun way to interpret it

[mymarifae]

sooooooo when i jokingly said to myself "haha did ruan mei play aeonic necromancy on tingyun's remains or something" i wasn't expecting that to literally be the case what the fuck

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I just got into the very first xmen dating sim ask (I think). Imagine if what makes Charles' secret route even harder, isn't only that he has his self-hatred massively cockblocking you, not only do you have to work against his polite and subtle redirection (you won't even notice his "why are you here? There are better places than my office, silly"), but you also have to be sneaky and smart cuz one wrong move one of the bad ending is you triggering Erik's jealous rage ajfjsjgj

(Would be worth it for me ajfjskf)

-the anon who'd gladly try (and horrendously fail) to fight Erik for Charles' cute cute butt

Also imagine if one of the "bad" ending is you unknowingly playing cupid for Erik and Charles ajfjsjf imagine if there's multiple ending that's literally just them getting together ajfjdjkf

Sorry if I am incoherent, I really like to browse your blog before I go to sleep ajfkskg

its mandatory theres at least like TWO routes that involve erik's intrusion when it comes to charles' route that's so true and REAL

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Hello, me again.

Thx for answering :)

I guess Zhongli really is a catch in the eyes of everyone, and no one really knows Childe. So maybe they wouldn't get what Zhongli sees in Childe. At least not at first. Maybe we'll get to see more of his badass side later on? I'm also curious if he got some powers from Skirk and the Abyss.

Anyway, their relationship is really cute and developing nicely.

Looks like I mixed up some of Guizhongs and Hu Taos actions ^^"

as another ask just said, there is sort of like a jessica and roger rabbit situation going on there from the eyes of everyone else. like you said, nobody really knows childe here, so for everyone to consider zhongli liking him (zhongli, legendary thaumaturge, certified gentleman, gorgeous man) is kinda like ????? out of left field hahah

i think if they stop to think about it the folks close to them would kinda get it but still be confused. like- you like childe? ...i mean yeah i guess he's very nice. he's also pretty. and yeah he's very generous and kind. and he cares a lot about the kids and he's very good w them. and he gets along with like everyone if you give him some time- ok yeah i can see it. yeah nevermind i get it.

(whereas when they realize childe likes zhongli the reaction is an immediate "of course you would")

[shima-draws]

Is there a One Piece rarepair ships week. Is that a thing. It should be a thing I think

[ryssbelle]

JD is going to ugly baby cry when he finally finds Clay? Like the overflow of Relief and happiness Will literally turns him into a blabbering mess That only Floyd can understand Because Floyd is the sensitive one.

I haven’t fully decided how the moment would go, there’s a lot of directions but I did decide to kind of do a concept doodle of this scenario, sort of. I was gonna send it with this ask but I think it deserves its own post for how long it is XD but know you were the ask that spawned it. But yeah I have lots of ideas on what could possibly happen, the biggest aspect of it that is subject to change is whether or not Clay is there in what would be this aus version of the Branch Floyd reunion from the movie, and then like what goes with that you know?

I’m more along the idea that Clay would be there, as would most of them, due to the circumstances having changed so drastically that they wouldn’t be separated by a fight, but you never know. This is pretty close tho to some of like my first thoughts, also sorry for taking a literal month to answer again the concepts I made were meant to go with this but I was going through so many drafts I legit just exploded.

The concept doodle will probs be posted tomorrow tho ;D

[kindlythevoid]

Y’all, y’all, I know this is (among many, many other things) the talk-about-your-fanfics site but I physically cannot talk about them without being prompted. However, because I am dying to talk about them, I have decided to do it in the format of an ask game.

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that you’ll most likely publish next? ∩(´∀`∩)

What story (stories?) are you writing rn that will most likely linger in your head for an undetermined period of time? (*´▽｀*)

What tropes do you like writing about the most? (´▽`ʃƪ)

Lore dump about the OCs (see tags for options)! (∩˃o˂∩)

One individual fun fact for each OC in the tags. ヽ(‘ ∇‘ )ノ

Longest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Shortest fic you’ve written (published or not)? ‹•.•›

Fic that is near and dear to your heart? ♡

Top three fics you’ve written (in author’s opinion)? ♡♡♡

Story Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the story; author makes). (◡‿◡✿)

OC Moodboard of choice (either you or author picks the OC; author makes). ❀☉‿☉❀

Write another line in your WIP (rude, productive, but okay). ◔̯◔

Drop a playlist for a story! ♪♡♪

Umm… yeah, so feel free to reblog to use the ask game yourself!! Fingers crossed all those nervous writers get to lore dump, yeah?

[whomeidontknowthem]

Eyes on me – an interactive whump story. Part 5.

Previous part. Masterpost.

Content: institutionalized slavery, imprisonment, dehumanizing language, it/its for an inhuman whumpee, pet whump, whipping, blood, physical abuse, withholding of food, training, torture, intimate whumper, carewhumper, mentioned pet death, tell me if i missed something

Lord Teelo didn’t strike. 

He lowered his arm, eyes never straying from holding the creature’s terrified gaze. The room reeked of blood, now streaming down the lord’s fingers in a warm waterfall. He worked hard on pushing his fury back, taking it under control as many times before. He was in control. He would show it, careful and persistent and levelheaded. He would make sure it remembered the lesson forever. The crop was not meant for punishments, it was too short, too soft – he hadn’t meant to punish it. He was going to be a kind and gracious owner. It had left him no choice!

He opened the door, finding the redheaded guard still in the corridor.

“Get a proper whip,” he ordered. “More chains – gods damned handcuffs, whichever idiot thought of leaving it like this?! And a knife, scissors – or whatever, something to file its atrocious claws.”

The guard stared at him, not in the face – at his arm. Lord Teelo felt it – the consistent drip-drip-drip of his blood. He didn’t feel the ache yet. Nothing but the quiet, cold fury he couldn’t wait to unleash at the world. Haltingly, the guard started, “Should I bring someone to take a look at–”

“I have told you what you should do,” his voice came out as a hiss.

“Yes, my lord,” the guard saluted and hesitated only a moment before running down the corridor. 

Lord Teelo closed the door with a loud crash. He paced inside, steps echoing around the room, as the pain slowly started to radiate out. He hated it. Oh how he wished he could slice the thing’s skin just this moment, not waiting for anything and anyone. He picked up the crop once more, stoped before the creature – it cowered to the very corner between the wall and its cage, never letting its eyes away from him. Oh, now it was looking. It dared to look! 

“You think yourself smart?” the lord hissed. “Think you did something good for yourself? Oh, no, you’re gonna regret this. You’re gonna regret this so much.”

The pain seeped into his consciousness with every heartbeat, radiant and nauseatingly familiar. He held a handkerchief to the cuts until it filled with deep red. He threw it away – it landed in a wet disgusting lump on the table, by the bowl of wet disgusting meat. Oh how the lord had tried to be a nice host, how he had tried to accommodate this, this– 

“Damned, ungrateful, hateful beast!” Lord Teelo roared. The glass of the bowl nearly slipped from his bloodied fingers when he grabbed it, and then shattered to thousands pieces to the side of the creature’s head. Its dinner fell onto the floor, useless. Oh, it wouldn’t get any, it would have to work, to beg for any crumb from then on – it would regret, regret it so much!..

The door slid open soundlessly after a short knock, letting in the heavy footsteps and the clanging of metal. The lord turned on his heels, facing the guard. “And why in the world have you not brought a damned healer!” he hissed. “Can’t you see I’m bleeding out!”

The guard blinked. “But you have–” 

“YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME?!” 

He was struggling to breathe, chest heaving with effort. The blood was still warm down his arm, still bright on the broken glass and light wood of his floors. How could the idiot not understand!

There were chains in the guard’s arms and a leathery length of the whip. Lord Teelo snatched it and demanded, “Chain it up!” The guard hesitated, opened his mouth. “NOW!” 

He did. The lord watched as he came to the beast, careful with his steps, cautious of it. It squeezed itself deeper into the corner. Lord Teelo could see it shaking. He was delighted to see it shaking. The guard reached out, the first cuff prepared, and Lord Teelo watched from a step away as it lifted its hands up, close to its chest. Its teeth were bared, pupils wide and eyes wider. It tried saying something, but what came out was only a mess of sounds with no meaning. 

The guard squeezed its arm even as it tried to avoid it. It whined and fought back, tried getting out of the grasp, tried pushing him away, tried and fought and struggled as he cursed under his nose. Its claws went through the skin of his palm ripping out a sharp hiss. It managed to raise its hind leg as the cuff clicked around its wrist, its claws scratching against the metal in an effort that only delayed the inevitable. 

Lord Teelo had little patience left. He stepped forward, connecting his heel with the middle of the creature’s tail. It yelped, flinched backwards – its head connected with the wall, and before it could regroup the second handcuff was in place. After that, restraining its legs was only a matter of time.

“Turn it around,” the lord ordered. Chains clang as it fought in an ever increasing panic. “To the wall, yes… yes, just like that.” The locks rattled, forced closed. The guard let the key fall onto the ground, forcing the creature to kneel. It hid its tail between its legs, whining as its head was pressed into the wall. “Is the chain short enough? Will it be able to move?”

“I don’t think so, my lord,” the guard answered. 

Lord Teelo played with the whip, trying it out. “Good. Go fetch the healer– wait. I need – something sharp, something – to secure on its tail. See how it hides it? I need something it can’t hide from.”

The guard looked puzzled. He eased his hold in a test, and the creature threw its whole weight backwards, fighting the chains. They held. Kneeling, with its tail hidden and only back visible, it looked strikingly like a human. “Perhaps clothespins, my lord?” It wasn’t what he had in mind. What he wanted – it wasn’t that. Not this easy, tame solution.

“It would work,” he drew out. He would go to the smith when he had time. He had an idea, oh, that would be a genius idea. “Just this once."

He flexed his left arm and rubbed his right. It hurt as all deaths, but it had stopped bleeding. He failed to crack the whip the first time but managed it the second, inches from the creature’s back. The guard bowed, taking it as a sign to leave. 

The creature mumbled and mumbled more, sounds a meaningless mush falling from its tongue. If Lord Teelo was generous, he could see it as an apology; he would not even entertain the possibility of giving in to it, of course. 

The second crack was right by its ear. It flinched and curled up further but couldn't hide.

It wailed when the whip connected with its back – so loud, so quickly, taken by surprise. Lord Teelo bared his teeth in a smile and struck again, violent purple already flowering on the gray of its skin, and struck again without waiting – three, four, six, twelve hits in a row, as it flinched and writhed and cried out.

He paused afterwards, and saw as it tensed, first, its whole body shaking with the effort of breathing, hiccupping in what sounded almost like sobs. He waited, watching how it trembled more and more. He let it marinate in the anticipation, the fear coiling and coiling with no release, the stinging of its sore back growing as its patience ran thin. 

When it raised its head, just barely, as if to look, the whip snapped through the air again. 

It screamed out. He didn’t give it time to recover. 

The lord hit it with no pattern, pausing and continuing at his leisure, until his arm grew heavy with pain and the creature nearly silent. Lord Teelo could only hear its labored breathing, air forced out of its body with every strike. Its back bloomed with purple that gave way to red when the skin opened, the new lines covering the rainbow pattern in an unstructured, repulsive mess.

Oh, he nearly pitied it, trembling pathetically in the corner. Then he rubbed his arm and the sharp pain was enough to remember why he didn’t. 

He struck for the last time, lazily, with his left, and then a few more for a good measure. When a polite knock announced the guard’s return, he felt pleasantly tired, like after a good work out. He called out for the man to enter. 

The guard did and the healer, an old woman the lord knew for most of his life, followed in. She looked the room over with stony, unreadable expression, and Lord Teelo met her gaze with a nice enough smile. “You’ve got your toy,” she stated and that was all the attention the creature got from her. 

She made a quick enough work of the wounds: cleaned and bandaged them up after applying that miraculous numbing cream the lord appreciated since early childhood. The creature would appreciate it even more, he thought, glancing at the pathetic thing. It had shifted at some point, stretching its legs just a bit but keeping its head hidden. Its body shook violently, trembling so much it in itself looked tiring. 

“Should I look it over?” the healer suggested, all business. 

The lord huffed, “What would the point of a punishment be then?” 

The woman looked him over with that annoying, unreadable gaze. “Call me whenever you change your mind,” she bowed and left when he dismissed her. 

Lord Teelo tried the clothespins with interest, forcing the spring to coil and then letting it go softly around his finger, just a tad, until it started hurting. “Good enough,” he concluded finally and got up. 

The creature flinched when his boots stopped by its form but didn’t try anything. “Poor thing,” he drew out and crouched, ran his fingers along its back lightly, brushing fingertips over the painful ridges of future bruises. Its breaths hitched, but it didn’t make a sound. “And all you needed was to not act like a brainless brat to avoid all this. You have no one but yourself to blame, silly thing,” he told it. It didn’t answer, shivering under his touch but not attempting anything stupid. 

“But maybe you can learn,” he hummed and moved his hand down to where its tail started. It tensed even further, if it was possible at all. “Let’s just make sure the lesson sticks, huh?” It curled up even further as he tagged on its tail, releasing from under the creature’s body. He flickered it back and forth and rubbed between his fingers and was satisfied when it sobbed and shuddered but remained motionless otherwise. 

“Like this, yes,” he muttered. With the softest touch of his second hand, he stoked its head. “But look at me now. Eyes on me,” It didn’t understand. He caught a fistful of its fur and tagged. “Eyes on me.”

Too drained to resist, it lifted its head as he guided it. “Eyes on me,” he demanded again, and it either guessed or truly learned – its gaze settled on him, focusing to the best of its ability – and, oh, what a pathetic mess it looked, eyes bloodshot and wet in ways he’d thought only a human's could be, dark lines from where it pressed into the floorboards marking its cheeks. There was something red around its mouth – did it bite itself, the poor thing? 

Lord Teelo clicked his tongue, smiled softly and released its fur. It settled back instantly, curling up again. Its tail remained in his hands. 

He picked up the first pin. 

It must have assumed at first that he was just playing like he had been, – at least, it didn’t seem to tense up too much, nor expect the sharp pain when he released the spring around its tail. It shuddered, head whipping up, staring at him once again. He smiled. Picked up the second clothespin. 

It tried to get its tail free – oh, it tried as much as it could without hurting him, but he tightened the grasp and played with the pins as it couldn’t help a new whimper, and hushed it and urged it to sit still. “That’s for you to remember the lesson better,” he told it pleasantly. It must have cried, body shaking again, and tried to kick just once, the movement stopped halfway through by a short chain. 

Lord Teelo wondered how many pins would be good for it – should he go with the whole set the guard had brought? He settled on five, at the end, a nice even number not even halfway through what he had. He was feeling rather merciful and forgiving, and it sounded just so pathetic. 

He called the guard in to urge it into the cage when it was done. It didn’t even try fighting, following the man's tagging and pushing until it was inside, drawing its limbs close and curling up to fully fit. Nearly immediately, its fingers itched towards the pins, human-like thumbs ready to work on the problem. Lord Teelo snapped his fingers to get its attention.

“No,” he said, words dripping with finality. He reached through the bars and tagged its tail outside. “The clothespins stay here for the night,” he told it. It probably didn’t understand – there was so little thought in its eyes. He let go of it hoped for its sake it understood what he meant. He didn’t want to have to punish it so soon for their lack of common language. 

When he went to sleep, the shaky breaths and the rare clanging when it tried to settle more comfortable sounded like a lullaby to his ears.

In the morning, his arm stung mercilessly and unendingly, and no melodies of birds and gentle sunrays could make his mood better. He turned lazily, letting his eyes fall onto the cage. The creature was curled inside of it, eyes shut tight and ears flickering restlessly. Its tail fluttered too, freed at some point from the pins, one of its hands curling around it protectively. 

Lord Teelo felt stuck between endearment and irritation. He moved and the cuts on his arm ached, and irritation won. 

“Hey… you,” he called and realized he hadn’t come up with a name. He should think about it as some point, he decided grimly, and banished the thought of the last pet he’d named, back in childhood. That was a just a cat, a stupid spoilt creature with too much attitude. The lord remembered the way it looked, painted red and unmoving, after crossing one too many lines. 

The creature didn’t move at his call, either. He picked up an extinguished candle from his bedside table and threw it towards the cage. “Hey!” 

There was no reaction. With an undignified groan, he forced himself on his feet and towards the cage. He rattled the key across the bars, the way that always seemed to get the creature’s attention.

It didn’t react. It was outright ignoring him! 

Had it learned nothing?!

He reached through the bars and tagged on its tail, finally getting some response in return – it flinched weakly and grimaced. Slowly, its eyes fluttered open, but didn’t settle on the lord. They looked as if through him, unfocused and dizzy, and a pang of worry cut through the just rage when they closed back and its chest heaved, struggling for breath. 

Something was wrong.

He reached through the bars and towards its forehead, forgetting for a second it wasn’t a human. The skin under his fingers was blasting hot and sickly wet. It moved closer to his fingers, all but nuzzling against him. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Updates every 7-10 days (depending on how much time I have and how obvious the poll result is) (unless something goes wrong and it takes me too weeks to get myself to write something. I'm so very sorry about the delay!)

@isikedmyself878, @fraugustends, @otterfrost, @fuchstastisch, @3-2-whump,

@the-lone-youth, @will-o-the-wips, @catnykit, @granny-aaravos, @mj-or-say10

Tell me to be tagged in the new parts!

[basicallyjaywalker]

All I Know

Good evening everyone, the time has finally arrived

@someloserinajaywig for you I present, the final fictravaganza fic: Zane angst. Zangst, if you will. I will admit this is not the best bc i'm not super familiar with writing a Zane POV BUT. I hope it is an enjoyable read regardless

Also, I didn't know if you had an AO3 handle but if you do and would like to have the fic gifted to you, lmk!

Prompt: Zane, The Run and Go by Twenty-One Pilots, and temporary amnesia

AO3 Link

Fic under the cut as well!

His throne was a glacier, built with his own powers, his energy, his essence. 

His throne room was the frozen ocean, vast and inhospitable. The only living beings that dared pass through were himself, his advisor, and the guards that made their rounds. Their punctuality was the only way he kept time anymore.

His empire was barren, overtaken by the ice. His ice. His subjects either learned to cope or succumbed to it. Their preserved bodies littered the tundra, a warning spread through whispers amongst the people. 

He was an emperor. A symbol of might, of terror, of strength. He was an iceberg. He was an all-consuming blizzard. 

He dreamed. 

He hated his dreams. He was always in a vast forest. There was always a snowstorm swirling, obscuring his vision. The air was always crisp, and if he focused he could catch something between sickly sweetness and earthiness clinging to the world around him. He was always acutely aware of the absence of something, though exactly what eluded him. He simply always knew there was always an emptiness within the world. 

Sometimes there were beasts with long limbs and hollow eye sockets, but they did not disturb him. They simply passed by, their towering bodies stretching up into the gray sky. 

Sometimes there was someone with him. 

A man with messy hair, white like fresh snow, dressed in the same color. He wore something over his eyes. The emperor felt he knew what they were called, once, but that couldn’t be true. Nothing like them existed in his empire.

Whenever he saw the man, the emperor would just watch him as he went about menial tasks. The man spoke, but the emperor couldn’t hear him, as if wind was constantly rushing right past his ears and drowning everything out. 

The emperor awoke from these dreams agitated. He tried to get his advisor to tell him who the man was, but he insisted he had never seen nor heard of him before. 

“A figment of imagination, your eminence. Do not let it trouble you.”

And so he did not. His advisor was always right. He had rescued the emperor from certain death after being ousted by the traitor. He restored his throne. He reclaimed his throne room. He returned the emperor to his glory.

---

Zane still had those dreams, even after his return. 

They weren’t uncommon before his tenure as the Ice Emperor. He often dreamed of his father and him wandering the Birchtree Forest where they lived. However, something felt wrong about the dreams he had during and after his time in the Never-Realm. He couldn’t explain it. It was like watching a different cut of a film he’d seen a  million times before. There were details missing, but he couldn’t remember them. 

He tried to reach into his memory banks for them, but was met with nothing. The previous version of his dreams didn’t exist anymore. All that existed was the incomplete, glitched version.

Every time he woke up from that dream afterwards, his face was wet. He hated it. He missed something that seemed to have never existed. More than that, he knew, he hated that he felt like it was his fault for forgetting. His own memories were obscured by a horrific episode of megalomania in which he had no choice. At least, that’s what the others said. Truth be told, Zane tried very hard not to dwell on the thought too much. He wanted to imagine he was forced into that role by the manipulation of Vex, but it was fifty years. He was a conqueror, a destroyer, for fifty years, and never thought anything of it? He’d crushed dissent at Vex’s suggestion, but it was still him who brought the hammer down. He froze the changelings because he was worried they would usurp him. Did it matter that Vex told him a lie and he believed it? Would it have been different if they did want to usurp him, destroy him? 

Perhaps that was why he tried not to delve too deep into his memories of that time. They remained only because he couldn’t wipe them without wiping everything else about himself, but sometimes he wished he could. Originally, his father built him with his memory switch to provide that fresh start, to allow him to forget inconvenient histories like his father’s death and their life prior. He built it to protect Zane from pain. He must’ve believed it was worth the cost, since he refused to remove it despite Zane’s request upon their reunion. At the time Zane believed it wasn’t worth it to avoid the pain if he had to forget all the good that came before, but sometimes, in the dark and cold nights where he couldn’t sleep because of the visions of Ice Samurai and innocents encased in bergs that plagued him, he wondered if his father was right. 

Then he would remind himself of his friends. He thought of Pixal and her warm smile, Jay and his neverending bad puns, Kai and his fierce loyalty, Cole and his firm reassurance, Nya and her cunning wit, Lloyd and his unconditional love, and Master Wu’s constant support and guidance. He thought of them and he knew he could never forget. Even if he could build a new life with them, flip the switch, remove it, then make up some grand lie about what happened, those memories were irreplaceable. 

The unfortunate consequence of wanting to remember his friends meant he had to remember every time he failed. 

He had to remember finding Pixal disassembled in the labyrinth beneath Chen’s Island.

He had to remember when Cole fell off the Bounty and into the uncertain shadows of the Oni invasion.

He had to remember Lloyd’s face as he begged, pleaded with Zane to remember who he was.

Every time he failed and someone got hurt. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t just forget and start over. They couldn’t just reset. They still had to live with the consequences. 

So Zane would lay there in the morning, face wet with tears. If he was unable to forget, how come he couldn’t remember? His father’s voice and the look and feeling of his home when he was young were fading. What was the point of having a computer for a brain if it just lost memories like a normal brain?!

Then one night, he ended up in that place again. His home. 

Tall birchwoods towered into the cloud-speckled sky. Small rays of sunshine peeked through gray clouds, turning patches of snow on the ground into clouds themselves. Dr. Julien sat on one of these patches, with Zane beside him, shaded by the skyward stretching trunk of a tree. He could hear animals going about their lives around them. Squirrels scuttled through trees, cardinals flew through the air, and even a few bees came up and settled on the sparse greenery around them. 

Zane heaved out a single word. “Father.”

“Hello, Zane, isn’t it such a pleasant morning?”

“Father, it’s been so long.”

The doctor tilted his head. “What do you mean? I only left you and Falcon alone for a moment.”

“No, it’s that… Never mind. I simply missed you.”

“Well, that is sweet of you. I’m glad you decided to join me. Spring is almost here, you know. It’s always nice when a bit of life returns to this place. The primrose will be blooming soon.”

“Yes…” Zane took a deep breath. “Father?”

“Yes, Zane?”

“May I ask you something peculiar?”

“Of course, son. What’s on your inquisitive mind today?”

“What should I do if I ever start to forget things?”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if years go by and I forget days like this, where we both sat together and talked? What if one day I forget your voice or your face? What if one day I forget… you?”

“Well… that won’t happen for quite a few more years. Why does it worry you now?”

“I’m simply curious.”

Dr. Julien hummed. He pulled his glasses off and painstakingly cleaned the lenses. Zane locked onto his every motion, inscribing it into the artificial synapses of his mind. If he knew how to in the dream, he would motion capture the process so that he could recreate it. 

“I suppose it’s something we all have to deal with. Our brains can only hold so much information. There are days I find myself slowly forgetting the details of my friends' faces, the voices of those I loved…”

“So what do you do?”

He shrugged. “There is nothing you can do. You can swear to yourself you will never forget, that you will commit every minutiae to memory, you will remember a person or place or story over and over until one day it’s simply… gone. I suppose that’s why they invented photographs. You can never forget if it’s preserved, but even those will fade over time, or you can forget the when and why and who of their taking. There are photos in my scrapbook of people I know I once knew, but whose names I can no longer recall… Zane? Are you alright?” Julien reached over, turning his son’s face and seeing the fresh trails coasting down his cheeks. He wiped them with the sleeve of his white overcoat. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to upset you. I believe I must’ve gotten too wrapped up in my own melancholy.”

“I don’t want to forget you, father. Never.”

“Zane…” Dr. Julien shook his head, his deep brown eyes full of softness. “One day, you will, and it will be okay. You may forget the details of my appearance, or all of our memories together, but you will always remember who I was to you. You will always remember your father.”

Despite the fresh tears still replacing the old ones on his face, Zane nodded. “You will always be a part of me.”

“Yes, I will, son.”

Zane woke up, the wetness of his face following him to consciousness. He sat up, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his pajamas. From the half-closed blinds, a beam of golden morning light shone directly on his bed. 

“I will never forget, father.”

[rawliverandgoronspice]

:D

I have finished the lineart of Thralls of Power Episode 1!!!!!!!*

🍾🥂✨

(*safe for a couple of reworks I want to do and also the end credits that I want to actually animate)

The current time for the episode is 40'19 and the current approximate number of frames I have drawn (minus a couple that are not in the actual episode, and some I have in double for Reasons, and some I haven't counted which have been done several times but I can't be arsed to do the maths right now) is 1168 frames (!!!), which, even if a lot of those are small adjustements, I AM going to pat myself on the back for because!!!! hell yeah!!!!!! heck yeah!!!!!!!!

the problem with lineart is, it's not super shareable without solid render, but have a Celebratory Messy Dorf as a bonus!!!!

(I have also finished the soundtrack EXCEPT for one track, which will be the most difficult to tackle, so !!!! oops, also my computer that can do music is dying and I need to learn a different music software but I don't have the time, so OOPS, truly Thralls has killed like, 2 different computers, maybe two and a half, insane)