#thinking thunking thonking

[fowlofprey]

//once again tempted to make a blog for the jade fantroll i remade for discord then haven't done much with

but like on the one hand i don't want to make another account but then on the other hand sideblogs tend to go a lot more dead (and also which fucking account would i make her a side on i have Too Fucking Many and i'd forget which one i had her on)

ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

what do

[rickless-self-indulgence]

also sorry to send two asks in a row but do you ever consider the moral dilemma ricks have if they genuienly develop feelings like (prepare for a ramble i am SO sorry)

"i fell in love with myself, from another universe" THATS GOTTA POSE AT LEAST SOME MENTAL INSTABILITY. how would you feel if the most beautiful person youve ever met (personality wise at least) was a slightly different version of yourself, or if you were cloned and suddenly you developed feelings??? how would that even work??? imagine the judgement too bro that would be insane

AUTOSEXUALITY???? does it even matter if your partner looks ridiculously similar to you or not??? i think part of the reason why opposites attract a lot of the time is because genetic diversity gives an evolutionary advantage but in a scenario when thats completely thrown out the window how does that work? would prime and c137 rick have the same genetics??? Hefhv.dnbabmvvjdk

i think too much my thinking has thonked its last thunk

DUDE WGAT NO WAY YOU FUCKING HIT ME WITH A CRISIS AFTER MY DAY COSPALYING @ SCHOOL 😭😭/lh (<= written when I first red that)

I THINK ITS PART OF THE APPEAL like Ricks find the world around them so futile and disgusting they resort to settle with the only people who share the same hyper specific views of the world as them. In my opinion, it’s where most of Prickcests conflicts comes from, Prime likes C137 for his brains and his ability to solve problems in a way that’s different enough for him to not have considered it but can’t possibly understand why he cares so much about anything else than their relationship and it’s kind of the same for C137, he’s extremely smart and autistic so being understood and feeling seen is kind of his grail. Prime gives him just that plus the thrill of being a little bit fucked up in the head.

But we’re talking about general rick4rick relationship not… Their frustrating particular case lol although I can’t help but mention them since Prime (in the garage talk) explained so well the perks of only being around other version of himself. As a Rick the things you love and hate the most are yourself, it makes up for such interesting conflict because trying to ignore someone’s toxic traits is impossible and trying to mold them into the idealized version of them you got in your head is straight up manipulative. The vicious circle of stubbornness and love and hope and escapism leading to rick4rick relationship always violently falling apart is so fascinating to me and you completely understood one of the key elements for why it’s this way…

THANK YOU cinna, thank you for sending this ask it literally rearranged some of my atoms, shook my whole world and bursted a door open in the back of my mind

[gyarakarpia]

my sleep-deprived inner voice delivered "a person that thinks thonks all the time has nothing to thought but thunks"

thanks brain

I once heard a quote by a dude named Alan Watts that went “A person who thinks all the time has nothing to think about except thoughts. So, he loses touch with reality, and lives in a world of illusions” and now when I get trapped in an anxiety spiral that likes to pop in too

[mhaccunoval]

thinking thonking thunking about combined goop cowboy... but that means i still gotta figure out what the fuck them goops are made of.

[seakicker]

still thinking about shadow xiao fucking you while your bf’s asleep right next to you. xiao couldn’t care less if the sounds of the bed creaking or, better yet, the sounds of you moaning and gasping wake your boyfriend up— at least it’d show him that you were already spoken for months before he ever came into the picture. xiao’s had his eye on you since you first moved in.

[mndvx]

[birds4hands3000]

Gonna see piss I’m boots tomrrow I’m so excited

Fingers crossed I live!!

[sukirichi]

imagine tokrev characters but in a street racer au concept 😳 pls yknow the haitani brothers would be considered royalty on the street, hanma as one of those sleazy dealers, draken as a great rival against the haitanis and idk just let me wrap my head around this 😫

but if ever !! would you guys like a series of this?

[jentlemahae]

mark baby 🍊

[starberryhwa]

thoughts are being thought. thinking hard. the thoughts have been thunk. thunking thonks intensely.. 💭💭💭💭💭💭

Its him

[babyboy-cody]

Would you guys participate if I created a kink bingo? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼🥺👉🏼👈🏼🥺👉🏼👈🏼🥺👉🏼👈🏼🥺👉🏼👈🏼🥺👉🏼👈🏼

I may have created a draft last night... and mapped out what kinks I want... and the rules... soooooo

IT’S REALLY UP TO YOU LOVELY PEOPLE 😭🦖

[thelemoncoffee]

thinking thonking thunk-

Kokichi has a habit of making himself out to be a saturday cartoon type villian, and everyone seems to respond by treating him like one instead of like another human being. they frequently assume that because he's there he has the intent to stir trouble, and because he isn't there he must be somewhere else plotting. I can imagine this in an hpa non despair au would kinda make it a bit worse.

what if Shuichi notices he himself has fallen into this mindset despite having a distaste for his peers doing it, and has to stop and take a step back to look over how he veiws Kokichi. Like he really dislikes that his classmates really treat Kokichi like some sorts of fictional entity thst only exisist in the school, but being exposed to it so much he slips over time into the mind set- albeit a less intense version of it. perhaps his realization of this slip is triggered by Kokichi doing something every human does (ie something like jetlag or spotting him doing something in town), and Shuichi breifly thinking it was "out of character" for him suddenly snaps his own bias to his attention.

idk, just Shuichi going "i hate people treating Kokichi like a cartoon villian" then realizing "oh shit i treat him like a cartoon villian" is quite amusing to me

[theriu]

For A Bit Of Bread

I’M SORRY TEAM TOLKEIN And @inklings-challenge I DID NOT FINISH. Feeling super unmotivated lately. But I did complete two scenes!!! (I’d like to say this is half of the story, but knowing me it’s MAYBE a third of what it will end up being. XD;) I chose Secondary World Fantasy and ended up thinking of a short backstory for one of the characters that would be interesting to explore! So since we were told to share even if we didn’t finish, please enjoy these two scenes. I shall try to reblog with further updates when I get them done!

----

(A/N: This is a short story set in the world of my hypothetical someday book Turtledove. For context, pretty much everyone joins one of the many many varieties of guilds that cover all of the usual (and some unusual) professions. I hope you enjoy....and please know that things are sometimes not as bad as they seem.)

A small figure raced down the dark alleys of Spheino’s business district, prize clutched firmly to his chest. With practiced skill, he leapt around, over, and even under the various barrels and trash bins that got in his way. Just a little farther and he’d be safe!

That is, if he could lose the three much taller figures barreling along behind him. He was nimble, but the City Watch had longer strides. Some of the obstacles that he had to crawl under, the men were vaulting over. The little figure skidded around a corner and turned up his speed, hoping desperately to reach the escape route before they could see which way he’d gone.

Another crash and a roar of anger sent fear tripping up his spine, but he reached the intersection and turned down the narrow alley between a brick church and the tall fence of a junkyard. Tucking his loot under one arm, the boy pushed against a board, which swung inward and upward, granting just enough space for a slim boy to duck through. The board thunked softly back into place behind him, hiding his escape.

That should throw them off for a second. Greg allowed himself a second to catch his breath, mentally calculating his next move. The junkyard dogs were chained up, he knew. He could skirt the yard outside their range easily by climbing over the stacks of old carriage wheels, then leap to the top of the fence on the other side and—

A growl far too close by froze him in his tracks. The boy turned slowly, staring wide-eyed at long, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He took a step back, eyes darting for an escape route. The dog lunged and the boy dropped, hands flung protectively over his head.

The loose board thonked the dog in the muzzle as it swung up, breezing just over the top of the boy’s lowered head. Before he could think, a hand grabbed the hood of his ragged tunic in a fist and yanked him backward into the alley, the board blocking off the image of the snarling dog as it swung shut behind him.

The boy landed on the ground with a breathless thud, gasping with fear and confusion. Then he got his bearings and looked up to see the owner of the hand. A simple silver cross glinted on the looming figure’s breast in the moonlight, his hands planted firmly on his hips.

“That was your last chance, little Greg,” Pastor Judson said in a stern, disappointed tone.

As the three men from the Watch ran towards them, Greg slumped where he sat and sighed. He took one last, longing look at his stolen treasure before he was yanked upright again by rougher hands.

———

Greg scrunched in on himself on the rough stool, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor and not at the two towering adult figures standing over him. If you can’t get away, hide, and if you can’t hide, be as small as possible. It was the mantra that had kept him safe and free this long.

He had a dread in his stomach that this time, that freedom would be ending for good.

“Bread, Greg? Really?” Pastor Judson sighed, looking at the large loaf of artisanal bread in his hand. It was a work of art, hard-glazed and styled in the shape of a dragon, complete with flaked almond scales. “Do you not care for the bread we give out at the soup kitchen?”

Greg didn’t answer, hugging his knees closer and tilting his face parallel to the floor.

The Watch officer grunted. Greg had encountered him before—Captain Herschel. Their past meetings had not been any more appealing for either side. “You can’t speak up for him this time, Tim. He’s had every chance to curb that kleptomania of his. This is his third strike.”

Greg’s hands clenched against his threadbare pantlegs. He didn’t like having his stealing thrown in his face as some mental malfunction. So what if certain things jumped out at him at unexpected moments, begging to be added to his private collection? He could control it. He didn’t need to steal.

Greg glanced up at Pastor Tim Judson, nursing a faint hope that the nice man might be able to wiggle him out of this incident like he had the last. The pastor met his gaze and sighed, giving a slight headshake that sank Greg’s heart in his chest. “I know, Reese. You’ve been more than fair, and he almost got himself mauled tonight besides.” The image of flashing white teeth lurked behind Greg’s eyes, and he had to suppress a shiver as Pastor Judson went on. “What’s to be done with him? He’s only ten or so—too young for most of the guilds to accept, even if they’d be willing to take someone with a record.” The pastor sighed regretfully. “I had hoped he would make it to that age so I could get him safely apprenticed before he ended up in the youth prison.”

The mention of the youth prison made Greg tremble, but he bit his lip, determined. He would not cry. They would see how tough he could be! Besides, some of the street kids who’d served shorter sentences in the prison said it wasn’t too bad. You got consistent meals and an actual mattress and blanket to sleep on, even if you had to work.

Captain Herschel crossed his arms behind his back and considered the tiny ball that was Greg. He crouched abruptly, still slightly taller than the curled-up boy but closer to the same level. “Greg. Look at me.” The soft but inflexible command made Greg peek up. He stared into the solemn, square face with its slight beard and brown bangs. “Why did you steal that bread? Were you hungry, or was it another reason?”

It would be easy to make excuses that he was hungry—that was always a smart way to earn pity. He might have if he’d been caught anywhere else. But with Pastor Judson standing right there, brow furrowed in concern, Greg couldn’t bring himself to lie. “N . . . no, sir. Pastor Jud’s soup kitchen’s real nice. I get enough to eat.”

The Watch captain nodded to himself. He turned and gestured for the bread Pastor Judson held, then looked it over, turning it slowly in his hands. Greg’s eyes naturally on the masterful design, just as they had an hour ago when he’d passed the bakery and first laid eyes on its. A masterpiece of bread artistry, displayed in the window more as a demonstration of the baker’s skill than as a meal to be eaten.

“This is a beautiful bit of work,” Captain Herschel murmured, as if to himself. Greg nodded anyway. “So was the jeweled belt buckle you stole two weeks ago. And the top hat you nicked from the Men’s Boutique last month.”

“You never caught me for that—” Greg bit his tongue and winced. A knowing grin flickered across Herschel’s mouth, so quick even the sharp-eyed boy couldn’t be sure it had happened.

“Putting aside the number of strikes you should actually have on your record,” the captain continued softly, “I’ve noticed something about the places you target. All fairly high-end. Hard to get into. And yet we never seem to find the items being sold back onto the market, despite being worth a pretty penny. And now”—he eyed the artistic bread, which, despite being crafted to last, obviously wouldn’t fare well in a street boy’s possession—“this. Tell me something, Greg.” He tilted his head, brown eyes searching. “Are you part of a gang?”

Would it be better if he was? Could he bargain for a lighter punishment? But it didn’t matter—Greg didn’t have anyone to rat out. He shook his head.

“No, I didn’t think so. Do you plan these thefts out ahead of time? Or is it more spur of the moment?”

This time, Greg shrugged and looked down. But a stern throat-clearing brought his head reluctantly back up, and he sighed. “It just hits me sum’times, alright? I saw it, I wanted it. I got it.”

“Would you have taken it if Pastor Judson had been the one who owned it?”

Greg’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his black bangs. “What? No! I’d never take something of Pastor Jud’s!”

Captain Herschel pressed farther, his brow creased. “Why? Because he’s your friend?”

“’Cause it’s wrong!” Greg burst out, face heating even as he said it. He knew stealing was wrong, even if it wasn’t from a pastor. But his ten-year-old reasoning didn’t know how to put it into the right words—that some things just felt more wrong. The boy shrugged again and fiddled with a tear in his pants, refusing to meet Captain Herschel’s eyes. So he missed the glint of understanding in them.

Captain Herschel studied him a moment longer, then pushed his hands against his knees and straightened. What had all those odd questions been about? Not that it mattered; Greg already knew where he was going. The boy braced himself for the final pronouncement.

“I don’t believe youth prison’s the answer for this one,” Captain Herschel said to Pastor Judson. Greg looked up, confused. What other option was there?

The captain turned and looked down at Greg, giving a sharp nod as if in decision. “He may be a good candidate for the Civil Servants Guild.”

Shock bolted through Greg, freezing every limb. Pastor Judson’s eyebrows shot up, but he only eyed the captain doubtfully while the boy at their feet sat immobile. “Are you certain? I’ve heard they’re very strict, and they only take apprentices by recommendation.” He hesitated, then ventured carefully, “No one’s really quite sure what they do, either. I don’t suppose you can share why Greg could be a good candidate?”

A smile creased the captain’s face, and he patted the pastor’s shoulder. “They are strict, but I think this one can handle it. And I’ll be recommending him.” He hesitated. “As to why . . . let’s just say I see a certain potential I think they can do something with. Beyond that, I’m not allowed to say,” he finished, half gruff and half apologetic.

The pastor waved a hand dismissively. “Alright, alright. I suppose the air of mystery is important to their work. You know I trust your judgement.” He looked down at Greg thoughtfully. “At least he’ll be putting that clever energy into learning a trade that serves King and country. Whatever trade that may actually be.”

The rest of what they said to each other turned to senseless buzzing in Greg’s ears. He stared straight ahead, gazing into an unexpected yet terrifying new future. The Civil Servants Guild . . .

Every street kid knew the rumors about that mysterious, secretive guild that sat like a walled fortress in the East District of Spheino. They all avoided it as much as possible, whispering of particularly bad kids who got sent behind those walls. Maybe they were made into apprentices and taught how to be assassins. Maybe they were test subjects for weird experiments, or brainwashed and turned into mindless servants. One thing was certain: None of their old friends ever saw them again.

“I’ll be good.” His voice came out as a rough squeak, and Greg had to fight through his own terror to speak louder, though no less squeakier. “I’ll be good! Send me to the youth prison! Or, or, I’ll work for the Watch! I can clean the offices and the barracks!” He was babbling now, sweat beading on his neck. He’d do anything, anything!

Captain Herschel and Pastor Judson shared a look. The captain gave a wry smirk. “I see their reputation precedes them.”

“Don’t worry, Greg,” the pastor said, leaning down to put a hand on the quaking boy’s shoulder. “Captain Herschel wouldn’t take you somewhere dangerous.”

Part of Greg wanted to believe him, but the other part could only see himself disappearing forever into the dark mouth of those dreaded gates. He cowered on his stool, glancing around for a good escape route. But just as he bolted off his stool, Captain Herschel grabbed him by the upper arm. Greg struggled with sudden violence, but he was lifted to his feet like a wet puppy by the much taller and stronger man.

“Sorry, Greg,” Herschel said implacably, “but you don’t get a choice in this matter. You gave up that right when you threw away all the second chances you were given.” He marched the child to the door of the pastor’s office, out towards the street where a horse cart had been summoned.

“It will be alright, Greg!” Pastor Judson called again, following them to the door and watching as Greg was handed into the cart with no chance of escape. “Trust in the Lord. He will see you through any trial.”

As if that was comforting, Greg thought bleakly as the carriage door shut on him like the lid of a coffin.

(To be continued...)

[crackedpumpkin]

i thunked until i think i thonked.

[inkmossdragon]

With Myra's Abilities, does she favor her Water or Rifting? Which one is stronger/more useful to her? What is the extent of her capabilities with her Water and Rifting? (EX: How far can she mess with water/liquids or utilize space-time?) Does she have any particular weaknesses in those Abilities or things she wants to work on?

oooh now this one I had to actually think on because I've actually never quite considered it before. But after some think thonk thunk I think I have a suitable answer. Myra's more proficient at her Water Ability because its the only one available to her until she turns 16 when Gawain undoes the seal partially on her Rifting. The full extent of Myra's water is actually quite versatile with many uses in and out of battle, for example she can lower or raise the temperature in her body to affect the water basically turning it into boiling water or mist, which is extremely helpful for getting away. Not only that but she can also draw moisture from the air to her bidding with enough time and practice. As well as create waves and even to some extent conduct electricity turning her weakness into a strength. However that last bullet is something she is working on as she more than likely will shock herself and doesn't have much control over an electrified water source quite yet. And her bending of Rifts is still quite uncontrolled. So far her Rifts are pretty unpredicable and she has to really keep focus on how to get them to do what she wants which right now is a long way to go. But hey, it makes dimensional travel funny as hell when its 67% accurate and somewhat of an accident.

[thejonymyster]

thunk and think and thonk are sound effects