bysombreseas

[bysombreseas]

Weapon Idea: The Seven-Shot Revolver

I’ve always wanted to give a character a magic gun that can fire more rounds than what gets loaded into it. Like a seven-shot revolver, or something. Just so I can have one of those scenes where they fire a full clip, the villain gets out of cover and starts a monologue about how he’s ‘counted their shots’ and they’re all out of ammo. And then... BANG!

[bysombreseas]

Hi, could you reblog this if you're a writeblr (main/sideblog). My dash doesn't seem to be full of them at the moment. :) thank you!

[bysombreseas]

unpopular opinion: mental illness can make people behave in extremely toxic and sometimes even abusive or manipulative ways. relationships and friendships with mentally ill people can be extremely difficult, unpleasant, or even harmful. though this may not be intentional and i have sympathy for those who struggle with this, other people are allowed to remove themselves from your life for their own happiness and sanity. they are not bad people for this. the idea that someone *has* to stay with you while you heal or help fix you is wrong, people are allowed to prioritise themselves. it’s on you to seek therapy and heal. being mentally ill doesn’t give you a pass to behave in toxic ways and hurt others.

[bysombreseas]

This map took me by far the longest to make. The party journeys to an underground garden to rescue their benefactor from a masked madman. Won’t actually be in the campaign for quite a few sessions to come, but the eventual battle will be a crucial one.

[bysombreseas]

So I found out I have MS earlier this year. Multiple Sclerosis for those who don’t know. It’s a chronic, incurable illness caused by your body’s own immune system attacking the protective sheath around your nerves. Symptoms include weakness, numbness, loss of mobility, fatigue, vision problems, acute pain, depression, etc. Not particularly fun, to say the least. Getting a chronic illness didn’t exactly inspire me to be productive for a long while. But I’m back now, and hopefully for the future. I’ll try to post stories and writing ideas, and anything else that might be on my mind. Feel free to say hi. I’d love to meet new and old people alike.

[bysombreseas]

Ambush on the Broken Road! The party was attacked by a host of savage apes that leapt from the rocks above and crashed down into their column. The first combat encounter of The Drowned City, a homebrew campaign I’m running.

[bysombreseas]

Vampires who base all their political opinions on things that happened hundreds of years ago because they have literally no understanding of present-day society.

“Of course I voted Republican, you bigot, what, do you support slavery or something?”

so tired of this trope that vampires complain & correct history books like “no I was there here’s what really happened!”

buddy most of us couldn’t write a history book on the shit that happened this month and we get to see it unfold live on tv. there’s no way your 500-year-old plebian ass was on the front lines of the Shang Dynasty political scene and can remember it with any degree of accuracy. you were probably stuck in a back corner of the world herding goats anyway, your anemic dumbass can buzz off

[bysombreseas]

Prologue - Starlight

Author’s Note: This is the prologue of a story I’ve been considering writing, about a group of superpowered kids in a school for juvenile delinquents. Haven’t settled on a title yet for the work, but I’ll think of something. Reblog or comment if you want, I’d love to hear your thoughts. :)

*****

Breathe, Isabelle. Breathe. Are you ready? The ring in her hand felt like a thousand pounds. Backstage, behind heavy cloth curtains, Isabelle pressed her forehead against the cool metal of nearby scaffolding. Breathe. You can do this.

Onstage, the crowd had begun to roar. “STARLIGHT!” The air trembled as twenty thousand voices cheered in unison. The scaffolding shook around Isabelle and she pulled herself upright, trying to control her breathing, trying not to look like the mess she knew she was. Were the staff thinking about her right now? The lighting technicians manning the spotlights. The sound engineers hurrying to make their last-minute checks on Vajoy Stadium’s speaker system. What did they think of the stranger in front of them, the small woman in her disheveled pantsuit, hyperventilating in a corner as she cradled a diamond ring in her hands?

Breathe.

But the crowd would not let her. Their cheers grew louder and louder, heralding his arrival. It would not before she’d have to answer him.

“STARLIGHT!”

“STARLIGHT!”

What do I say? The obvious answer was yes, Isabelle knew. ‘Yes, Solomon Jones, yes. I love you, I’ve loved you since we met eight years ago, I’ve loved you no matter how long you were away, I want to go on loving you for the rest of our lives’. But it wasn’t just Solomon Jones she would be answering to. It would be him.

“STARLIGHT!”

“Isabelle, he’ll be here in five.” One of the technicians was looking at her, a sympathetic smile on her lips. “Are you going out to see him?”

Isabelle did not respond. She could see the confusion in the woman’s eyes. Why are you anxious? they seemed to say. This should be the happiest day of your life. Though Isabelle had not shown the ring to anyone backstage, they had figured things out by themselves. And they all knew who she was, they’d known about her for years. Isabelle wondered if the technician was jealous; there were women, probably even some men, who might kill to be in her position. To be Solomon Jones’s–no, to be his girlfriend. To see a side of him nobody else did. If only they knew how hard it was.

That was the problem, wasn’t it, that she got to see both sides. To know Solomon when he was vulnerable, when he was insecure, and to see him as the people of Panoply saw him. She would be marrying a man who might not come home one day, who would always have secrets from her, who was so great and important she felt small even when standing in his shadow. You want this, Isabelle, I know you do. It’s just–

“STARLIGHT!”

“–so scary. What if someone uses you to get to him? What if people hate you? What if he changes his mind?” It had been almost four days since Solomon had asked, four days since Isabelle had spoken to him in person. He said he’d wanted to give her time to think over the question, but she knew him well enough to see that for the lie it was. He was busy with work. Something more important than me.

Could she be angry with that? After all, it wasn’t deadlines or meetings that kept her bed cold and her dinners lonely. It was mob bosses and human traffickers and Gifted psychopaths. It was hero work that kept Solomon Jones away, kept him secretive and worried and unhappy, even when proposing to his one true love. Could I live with a man like that?

The crowd’s chanting had descended into discordant cheers. Isabelle pushed her way past the technician and peered out through a crack in the curtains. The stage was still empty, but the stadium roof was open. The crowds were hard to make out against the harsh stage lights, but to Isabelle the stadium looked packed. Twenty thousand people would see her when she stepped out. Twenty thousand people would hear her answer to Solomon’s proposal.

As Isabelle peered upwards, she saw the night sky was cloudless. A few dozen stars blinked at her, bright enough to be seen through Panoply’s smog. One star was brighter than the others, its light fast approaching. Starlight.

“Hey,” the technician said again, trying to get Isabelle’s attention. “I need a decision soon; we’ll have to get you fitted with a mic if you’re going out.”

Isabelle’s reply was drowned out by the crowd. They’d spotted him. Instead, she nodded, her body limp as the technician ran to get the necessary equipment. I don’t have to answer onstage, but I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay.

“STARLIGHT!”

“STARLIGHT!”

“STARLIGHT!”

Isabelle could feel her hearing go with each successive intonation. Her body felt light; she wished she could close her eyes and be swept away on the soundwaves. If only the ring were not so heavy in her hands. Breathe, she thought. Breathe. You’ll know what to say when you see him; it’s always so much easier when you’re together.

The technician returned, fitting a headset over an unresisting Isabelle. She could feel the stage shake from the crowd’s enthusiasm. He’s in the stadium. This is it.

The technician gave a thumbs up and Isabelle hugged her in thanks, before rushing forwards onstage. The ring no longer felt like a thousand pounds; she was caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd. Behind her even the technician was peeking through the curtains. Everyone wanted to get a good look at the man steadily descending beneath the stadium roof.

“Solomon,” whispered Isabelle, near-blinded by the lights and deafened by the crowd. There he was, her Solomon, a radiant sun floating above the stage. His golden cape flapping despite the lack of wind, his pitch-black uniform lit up with a thousand blinking lights, his eyes burning as daylight escaped from his smooth dark skin. The crowd was still chanting, and Isabelle could not help but join in. Starlight. Starlight. Captain Starlight.

The greatest hero in Panoply’s history. The man who had defeated the genocidal Endbringer and saved the city from Medium’s rampage. The man who had time for everyone, who talked people from jumping off rooftops and foiled bank robberies and saved kittens trapped in trees. The man who had devoted his life to the city, whose radiant Gift inspired tolerance, whose heroics had paved an end to violent vigilantism, the eternal protector of Panoply who–

–grew brighter by the minute, near-invisible now under a sphere of light. His hands by his sides, his blazing eyes looking forwards, his perfect skin swelling outwards as the glow grew and grew. He’s not okay, Isabelle thought, as Solomon paused in midair and her nervousness returned tenfold. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. She dropped the ring to the ground, discarding its weight, screaming against the roar of the crowd, screaming for Solomon to look at her.

And for a moment, he did, locking those burning white eyes with the woman who would be his wife. But in the next moment, he was gone, they were all gone, disappeared in a flash of light. For a brief second Panoply was lit by a midnight sun, bathing the entire city in premature dawn. When it winked out, darkness returned, but where Vajoy Stadium once stood only a crater remained.

 For the next month the papers did nothing but talk about the night Captain Starlight went supernova, taking twenty thousand people with him. There was postulations and outrage and grieving disbelief. But for Naomi Lee, who saw Vajoy Stadium consumed from her balcony window, there was only the slow and painful realization that her parents would not be coming home.

She was eleven.

[bysombreseas]

THE CLOCK CREATURES - EXCERPT (285 WORDS)

Hi everyone!! Here’s an excerpt from a new WIP that I’m working on called the Clock Creatures (TCC). I’m not going to tell you anything about it just yet, as I want this passage to speak for itself — but I really hope you enjoy it!!

(Also thank you so so much to @jess—writes, @mizzyplatinum, and @aurikhai for proofreading this for me! <33)

————————————————————

“You get used to it.” The dark-haired boy crouches down next to me, speaking in a way that suggests he has to do this a lot.

He’s a liar. I’ll never get used to it — he knows that. But he’s telling me I will, like it’s clear he’s told so many people. I can tell by his expression: it’s stale. His smile is a little too sincere. His words hit me just like it does, though not, perhaps, as loud.

The noise I can deal with. But the constant rattling of the room, the shaking of my soul — that’s something different. I can’t quite remember pain, but I am certain that this hurts.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It’s like my pulse has left my body. It roars in my ears as if it’s grown stronger, escaped me. As if it’s seeking its revenge. Every second, the world convulses. Every second, I can hear it scream. I’ve never experienced an earthquake, but I imagine that it feels like this.

My knuckles try to grip the floor, but they fail and scrape against it. My ears try to focus on that, instead — to the tearing of skin. To the flow of blood. No chance. There’s only the pounding of my heart that now surrounds me: the repugnant shaking of my world that will not cease. Every second, without fail, I fall.

I’m sat on the floor with my head bowed and my knees drawn to my chest. I think — at the very least — that some centuries have passed. I have no shoes. My feet are cold, so I sit on them, curled up against the chilly, wooden floor.

I would shiver, I think, if I could remember how.

————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading!! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed it :))

TAG LISTS UNDER THE CUT

Keep reading

[bysombreseas]

7. Your opinion isn’t special and you don’t represent anyone besides yourself. Likewise, if someone disagrees with you that is not some guaranteed proof of their race/gender/sexual orientation. In real life these groups are not hive minds who all think alike.

Stuff kids on tumblr better relearn

1. You are responsible for your own media experience. 

2. There is such a thing as a healthy level of avoidance towards topics that make you feel unwell or even (in a real-life clinical definition of the term) trigger you - but you are the one to actively take care of what you view.

3. Avoiding does not mean policing others.

4. You have no right to tell artists to censor themselves - you may criticize what others do, you may dislike it, that’s fine - but actively asking for censorship when you could easily unfollow or block a person just makes you look incompetent in your use of the internet.

5. Do not give people on tumblr or /any/ website the responsibility for your emotional well-being. Because these people do not even know you so no, you have no right to ask them to take care of you.

[bysombreseas]

Tumblr - We need more healthy male friendships in media. Men who are emotional with each other and do things together and have positive platonic bonds. Also Tumblr - Woah there, two male characters are showing emotion around each other and have a healthy close friendship? I ship them. They’re gay. Definitely gay. There’s no other explanation for this but gay.

[bysombreseas]

First Paragraph Tag Game

I was tagged by @aurikhai on this and I’m finally getting around to doing it. The game is to post the first paragraph/paragraphs of something you have not shared yet and then tag other people:

The Dusk Patrol: Chapter 9

The gravel rocks of the parking lot rumbled and churned as the jeep turned in off the empty road. Finding a spot next to a dirt-streaked cruiser, the jeep drove forwards, slotting itself between the cruiser and a battered wooden fence. After a moment of idling its engines fell silent and its doors opened. Dusk Patrol officer Sandra Elwood, just two weeks from promotion, got out of the jeep and stretched her legs. The sun beat down on her tan uniform, shadows running across her face from the wide brim of her hat. “Come on out,” she called, looking back at the jeep. “Case won’t solve itself.”

The jeep’s doors opened and four cadets emerged from within, squinting and cursing in the blinding sun. “What is this weather?” Rohan Chopra grumbled, his eyes tearing. “I’m sweating like a pig.”

“Suits you,” Harriet Hanzo smirked, brushing invisible motes of dust from her uniform. Behind her dark sunglasses she surveyed the squat building at the end of the lot with contempt. “What a dump.”

Tagging: @adayforducks, @danielleslayer, @raybansandcoffee, @azawrites, @adayforducks

[bysombreseas]

Rules: list 10 songs that you’ve been listening to and tag 10 people

I was tagged by my favorite @svmmerblues

Here’s what I’m currently listening to:

Hardest of Hearts - Florence and the Machine

Daydreamer - Aurora

Starlight Brigade - TWRP

In Vain - Within Temptation

Risk - Metric

Turbo Killer - Carpenter Brut

Masters of Destiny - Delain

Ain’t It Fun - Paramore

Living in the Shadows (from that one Love, Death and Robots short, with the space station, you know the one)

The Cadence of Hyrule soundtrack

Tagging the following people:

@wordsofpaintandsmoke, @aurikhai, @smudged-glasses-writing, @the-real-rg, @stereotypicalhotmess, @azawrites, @adayforducks, @arwallace, @prettylittlelyres, @writing-with-melon

[bysombreseas]

This is a really interesting thread, it’s neat to see all the different patterns writers get into. Also, @azawrites, thanks for the tag! I have a few patterns that I tend to have in stories I have written/conceptualized:

Really Flawed Protagonists: Pretty much every story I’ve written has a main character who has a number of traits that veer into the moral grey. My current protagonist is insecure, self-destructive, increasingly desensitized to violence. A prior one was incredibly cowardly. Another was really bitter about her lot in life and lacked sympathy for bad things that happened to other people.

Depression: Probably because I’m depressed, but I often have at least one major character who has a great deal of sadness and melancholy about their life. They sort of veer between being protagonists and villains, depending on the work, though their depression inevitably influences their actions in the story.

Villains Outclassing Heroes: Pretty much everything I’ve written has villains who are way stronger than the heroes they are fighting. Whether it be wealth or intellect, or just sheet unbeatable strength. I like the idea of heroes having to work for their victory, rather than them being on level with their antagonists. Consequently, a lot of fights are won by heroes outsmarting more powerful enemies, or having some furious fight for their life that they barely win by exploiting a weakness (e.g, unbalancing a massive demon enough that it falls onto a spiked fence).

I’ll tag @adayforducks, @danielleslayer, @crispgorgeousblack, @cookiecuttercritter

Random Writing Thought

Honestly, I think about this a lot sometimes. But does anyone else have a repetitive notion throughout their writings?

Mine is the fact that my characters often don’t have parents or have bad relationships with their parents. Or with at least one parent. And I have a hard time debating whether this is because of my own personal relationship with my parents.

[bysombreseas]

Tough Women

A few weeks back I was watching Aliens, and it got me thinking. So look at this lady below, Vasquez. 

Why can’t we have more female characters like this in action movies? Actresses who actually look the part of the strong character that they’re playing. There was Charlize Theron, as Furiosa, and every once in a while we get a horror film that isn’t afraid to make a female character bleed or sweat, but it’s there’s surprisingly little of it in cinema.

So, advice for upcoming directors on tough women, just a collection of things that annoy me whenever I see them in film:

- Stop making actresses look amazing in situations where the character would look terrible. I keep watching old Hunger Games clips and it fascinates me how their idea of Katniss in the Games, where she has basically no hygienic supplies and limited food and water, is Jennifer Lawrence with slightly damp hair. 

- If you want to show that your female character got injured, it’s okay to give her deep scratches, or a cut, or a bruise or something noticeable. Dabbing a little bit of blueberry jam under Brie Larsen’s nose does not tell me Captain Marvel just took a serious blow. If you’re going to half-ass it, don’t bother.

- If you want to cast stick-thin models to play assassins who can throw around men twice their size, at least cast people who can fight, or play a convincing killer. Luc Besson is by far the worst offender of this, but there are others. Also is it really necessary to sex them all up?

- Writing a woman with a ‘tough’, ‘strong’ backstory, like, say, an ex-criminal, or a mercenary, requires her to actually act like a criminal/mercenary. Take Vasquez, who is basically one of the guys with her male soldier buddies. I find it very weird when a writer’s idea of a strong woman is someone who kicks butt until a man comes along, and then she’s back to crying and being helpless again. 

I have other issues, for sure, this is just the first four I could think of off the top of my head. Anyone have recommendations for movies/shows with properly done tough women?

[bysombreseas]

“Darlings, why are you running away? That’ll be ten minutes in the timeout chair if you don’t get back here and LET ME STAB YOU”

writing a domestic AU for villains like “hello naughty murderers it’s children time”

[bysombreseas]

I usually put on music when I write, I find it can be very inspiring and really helps to set the mood in your mind.

How I actually manage to write

Listed below are a few things I do to make myself write (and enjoy it). this is how I wrote 15k words in a week and a half:

Sprints: sprints are basically a fun way to write a lot in a very short time. You set your timer for a short period of time you’d like to write (I like 10-15 minutes) and just write as much as possible for that amount of time. I also like to see my progress, I sometimes write 500 words, sometimes 100 words, it’s a great way to get to know your writing habits.

Compitition: I like doing the sprints with other people, this way I know how fast other people work. I’m a very competitive person, so if someone wrote more than me, I’ll keep writing until I’ll reach them. You can do that with sprints, or with friends (seeing who will reach a certain goal first)

Hints: this is kinda weird, but I do it constantly. I have little “hints” of my project laid all over my house. Little drawings of my ocs, my own quotes, the name of my novel. For example, my bio on Instagram is a quote from my novel; no one knows but me. It’s a small reminder that of your project everywhere you go. 

Force: force yourself to write for a while. make yourself write, and you’ll be so invested in your own little world to stop. I’ve done this many times, and ended up writing 2,000 words a day. It really reminds you of why you started writing. 

Imagination: I constantly imagine my novel (you know, the product). I can imagine exactly how the front would look, I can imagine my friends and family reading it, I can imagine myself signing it, I can imagine people on Tumblr writing about it. It’s your imagination, be wild, dream about your novel! This is SUPER MOTIVATING. 

Feel free to add your tips and tricks:)