#behind the scenes snippets

[words-with-wren]

Trying to figure Shermie in my Pines Behind AU like; he's a Pines man, I need to write him so incredible flawed but also likeable.

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Lala...

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant and Catherine Tate having fun on the set of Wild Blue Yonder / Doctor Who 60th Anniversary

(and Bernard Cribbins too)

[uniquethingtastemaker]

More Rook x Observant Reader:

“Why aren’t you nitpicking Epel or Jack?!” Grim cries before spotting Ortho and adding. “Or Ortho?!” 

Deuce turns to him and replies, “Because we did something wrong and got detention.” 

Idia comments, “The braincell has been passed to Deuce today."

You can hear the smirk in his voice as Vil eyes the virtual dorm leader. 

“Indeed,” he agrees, pleased.

(Idia is funny lol. This whole section is found family vibes. It's very nice. I was complimented on how I wrote it because my family life is extremely different. It's not as nice as this, so I was proud of myself for showcasing these natural interactions.

(I made sure that each person is put there for a reason. I also like to ensure that each scene has a purpose in my fanfics. If it doesn't, it goes into scrap. This is more for myself than anyone else. It's a way to verbally fact-check what I'm doing.

(This scene is a direct result of how Rook, Vil, and Reader have gained a family when they never had one before. It showcases everyone's personal progress in that aspect. Plus, it sets up the next few scenes)

[nemaliwrites]

have a snippet from the lil kwami swap thing i'm working on!

High above the streets of Paris, Mister Bug and Lady Noire talk about love.

It's a dangerous topic, to be sure; one that has to be tiptoed around with utmost care. A balancing act for Mister Bug. For Lady Noire too, perhaps, but she never seems like it affects her quite as much. Maybe that's why she's the one who brings it up.

"Are you in love, Mister Bug?"

His feet, from where they'd been kicking back and forth rhythmically, come to a stop. "Huh?"

"I'm just curious," says Lady Noire. On the rooftop they sit, there's more than a few centimeters of space between them. A gap that they're both waiting for Mister Bug to bridge. He only wishes he could. "Are you?"

Mister Bug tries to catch her eye. "Are you sure you want to talk about this? We... we don't have to--"

She waves a clawed hand in the air dismissively. "It's fine," she says, even though he knows it's not. He wonders what it is that's fine: talking about love, or talking about love when they both know he won't -- he can't -- reciprocate her feelings? "I wanna know. Is there anyone you love?"

There is. 

[ireallyamabear]

HAVE YOU SEEN THESE 4 DEAD PEOPLE

[felassan]

post from Dragon Age: Dreadwolf developer Luke B. (Game Systems Director for Dragon Age) on the unofficial BioWare forum, discussing the reasons why in Dragon Age: Inquisition there was no healing mechanic and instead the barrier system was introduced in the gameplay:

"I can't speak to any other games directly but I can give a bit of historic context for DAI. The game was initially a more dungeon/linear delving - see how far you can get - experience and there was no barrier of any kind. As a side note: healing has always been a hot topic in design because as soon as you include it there are many other conceits you now need take into consideration for the gameplay - one of which I will call 'the Anders problem'. Anyway, as DAI got the date moved and shifted more into the pseudo-openworld the concept of attrition (see how far you can get before having to return to camp) became less relevant and we needed to help the Players have more moment-to-moment agency around their survival. Unfortunately for various reasons (one of which is the sad reality of designing a game with a shifting timeline) the healing couldn't be re-added so we ended up with more of a mitigation strategy in the barrier system. It went through a lot of iterations but eventually landed on what it shipped with which I would call... acceptable (but just barely). Now, I will concede that a part of the reason it didn't return after that shift was an aversion to holy trinity gameplay specifically for MP but it wasn't the core reason. As a side story, trying to balance the game (as that was my job on DAI - and yes, it could be much better haha) we had to all but force Players to take barrier. It is intentionally the first skill in the first tree for the Mage and all the autolevel (I also handled that) is designed to get it right away. Feel free to ask other DAI questions, I'm happy to answer about things I was directly involved in 😁. Anything DA:D related you'll have to wait for at least a few months after launch to grill me...though I'm hoping they let me stream at launch as an official thing 🤞." [source]

a user asked about what the hardest class to balance in DA:I was:

"I feel like anyone who was around for the post-launch content will already know the answer to this as it was the bane of my existence when I got put exclusively on MP after launch but the Knight-Enchanter barrier absorbing was a pain. Stuff like that is very challenging to feel good without being broken as they are relative to damage so scaling is fairly open-ended. Too little and the casual players won't get use out of it, too much and the character builders will be wildly OP. We actually had a 'no nerfing' guideline for the SP side so it was a hard battle to fix that silly thing 🙃." [source]

[ladyhallen]

Betting Pools and Man Eating Sheep: Behind the Scenes

Hermione felt a headache blossom under her eyes.

“Harry, why do we have a dozen sheep in the front yard?” she asked Harry, hoping for a different answer.

Harry beamed and answered, “Fon called. He said he found some and needed to get them off his hands.”

With her perfect view from the window, Hermione saw one of the sheep eat one of the chickens. Hermione felt faint.

“Harry, your sheep just ate a chicken. Whole.”

Harry blinked for a few times. “Well, he did say something about it plaguing the countryside if left alone…”

This was just like that time Fon found a few hundred parrots that needed to be re-homed. Harry had, of course, agreed. Like she always would with anything her husband asked. And then it turned out they were parrots that had eaten a magical mandrake by accident and their cries would and could kill now.

And someone in Fon’s workplace had been breeding them to assassinate his enemies before Fon’s coworker Reborn noticed and killed the man...but not before getting saddled with the impossible task of moving a hundred song-killing parrots.

Harry had agreed when Fon called and her incredible Potter luck made sure that Luna tagged along and noticed the birds strange feather mutations and identified it before the birds could kill anyone else.

But it had been exceedingly close!! No matter how much Hermione stressed this out, Harry would always just shrug off the danger. And her damned Potter luck was not helping matters! Neither was Fon. He always wound up in such strange situations and needed Harry's help. Hermione rued the day they met.

“Harry,” Hermione said in warning. She was a bit nervous about this. If this sheep could unhinge its jaws and eat a chicken whole, what else could it eat whole?

Harry nodded obligingly. “Okay, okay. I’ll take care of it. Maybe Charlie would like to have his dragons play with man eating sheep.”

Hermione whirled around to shout, “Man Eating What!” but Harry ran out of the door to corral the sheep to Romania too fast to hear her.

.

Note: I updated the AO3 to include this snip, coz it just occurred to me. HAHAHAHA

[antilocaprine]

Slowly but surely plugging away at the conclusion of Evergreen. Things will get worse before they get better.

[words-with-wren]

Ooooh I think I figured out the plot point i was struggling with >:)

[author-a-holmes]

#FantasyIndiesMaytober May10th; Saturday Snippet! "Regret"

I use ‘Regret’ exactly three times (so far) in the current version of the Darkling manuscript.

All of them have... some spoilers. So I’ve had to pick the one that gives away the least.

Let’s just say that Telepathy isn’t Lizzy’s strongest skill...

Regret flavoured her thoughts, but she tried desperately to push it down. To keep her emotions calm, steady, even. Any little push or nudge could shatter his mind at this level, and as intricately connected as Lizzy was it could just as easily shatter hers. It's why she was still spinning. Why his mind slammed against hers. Why the screaming as he tried to expel her hurt. Get out. Get out. Get out. GET OUT! "I can't!" Lizzy snapped, and everything stilled.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Whenever (since I'm way late for a Wednesday check-in)

Popping in with a new OC reveal this week, mwah. Meet Sébastien as he runs headfirst, or shall I say falls, into trouble.

"And above all, keep your feet and legs together.", the faint droning of the instructor rang in the background as Sébastien regarded the picturesque scenery below him through the opening of the small plane, "You listenin'?" He let out a chuckle before sending a smile the man's way, same one he would offer his father's investors anytime he'd be forced to sit into a meeting with them and pretend he knew all about running their family business. "Of course, m-", he racked his brain, trying to remember a name, first or last, anything, at the end coming up empty, "my dear newfound friend." The bored look he received as a reply wasn't promising, but he wasn't there to impress anyone, rather than seconds away from plummeting down from 10 000 feet up, if luck had it, gracefully and without a hitch. "You sighed the waiver.", the man muttered under his breath before continuing, "From your demeanor, I take it you're not worried?" "No.", Sébastien lied as he braced against the side of the plane, completely suited up, wondering if the truth would stop him from his most recent adrenaline seeking spontaneous trip. His forged license ensured him passage, a seat on the plane, almost making him forget he had to also act the part, doubting money would slay the person in front of him with how much weight he put on the rules even before take-off.

"Good.", a mumble sounded from the front, followed by a wave from their pilot aimed at the instructor. "-clearance.", he strained his ears, trying to catch whatever the two were hunkered down and whispering about. "Okay. Showtime, Mr. King.", it took him a lot of willpower to not instinctively correct the fake name he had given upon meeting the man and signing a stack of documents before his dive. His father would always talk about how much pride he had to have in the Gallagher-Kerring name, the legacy it carried, same one that gave people a pause and made it super easy for him to be tracked down. "I thought we weren't due for a couple of more minutes?", checking his watch was close to impossible, with all the gear he had on, but eventually he managed to confirm his suspicion. The scenery wasn't of much help location wise with the fields and various small structures scattered between winding roads signaling, he could have been anywhere over Montana. The body of water they passed reminded him he wasn't exactly listening to that part of the lecture. Just aim for anything that's not water. Easy. "Time flies.", was all the instructor offered before bracing his hands on his hips, "Usually we would need the equipment back by Friday, or else you lose the deposit, but seeing how you have your own and didn't request retrieval…" "That won't be an issue?" The plan was to skydive, land near Missoula, maybe hitchhike there if he felt extra adventurous. Everything he wore was practically brand new, purchased after he had stormed the closest specialized store he could find the moment he had left the most recent gathering Frank Gallagher-Kerring had bestowed upon him. The bright yellow and black piece covering his lean body wasn't exactly his first choice, but he was assured it was the best and most expensive one they had.

"Yeah. Any further questions, Mr. King?" "No. Thank you.", he paired the words with another grin while wishing for the man to already stop talking. With a final clearance and another quick whisper session with the pilot, Sébastien found himself threading air, all his instincts screaming at him he would die. Instead of listening to the pesky voice, he focused on his surroundings and how the small dots that were in reality trees and other buildings became large, closer as he spread his limbs face-to-earth to avoid spinning out and actually making true on that fear. "I'm alive!", he screamed on top of his lungs, absorbing as much of the giddy sensation as he could. There always came a time during whatever dangerous endeavor he partook where his mind would seem so much clearer, though usually he had others with him, drowning out the tranquility. "3000 feet.", the altimeter attached to his helmet announced, kicking him back into action as he recalled his instructor's word about the moment he needed to open his parachute. His right hand grasped the rip-cord while his left came to rest across his waist. A sudden jolt followed as the canopy unfolded, making his breath hitch. He pushed through the shock as a satisfied smile spead over his features. "Piece of cake.", he muttered while his eyes zeroed on a white shape speeding down one of the roads he could see from his position. He had no idea how much time passed where he descended towards the clearing he believed was good enough for a landing with the alternative of ending up in one of the trees nearby, slightly worrying him.

Then he felt it, trying to convince himself the adrenaline was playing tricks on him - something flying past him as smaller forms that looked almost like ants came into view. Whatever calm had taken over his body left him at once when the whoosh happened again, followed by another. A stinging sensation registered in his arm as he gripped his parachute risers tighter. His gaze widened in horror at the tear in his suit as another bullet flew past and missed him. The multiple holes marrying the previously intact material of the bright yellow and black canopy only fueled it. "No fucking waaaaay.", he let out a string of curses as panic swooped in together with the realization he was being shot at. That the shapes that previously looked like ants were people with guns and coming in closer as he descended down. In his attempts to avoid getting killed by something that had nothing to do with his questionable choices, he focused on the road next to the clearing, hoping the maniacs would let out if he landed outside of what he assumed was their private property they were so dead set on defending from an innocent skydiver. Their angry yells mixed until they were indistinguishable as he began plummeting down faster thanks to his parachute being turned into swiss cheese. The wind worked in his favor somewhat, granting him a lead on his pursuers. More bullets flew, all missing him by mere chance, making him glad whoever those men were they certainly had worse aim than him at his very first shooting lesson his father had dragged him to when he was but 10.

"Come on. Come on, baby.", he chanted as his luck ran out and his hopeful descent turned nightmarish, faster, out of control. It was becoming clear making it to the safety of the road wasn't in the cards for him when his trajectory shifted dramatically despite him trying his hardest to keep steady. "FUCCK.", ripped out of his throat as he calculated his chances of making it over the tree line separating the fields from the road. No way. It was going to take a miracle. All he could do was close his eyes while his elbows locked together to instinctively protect his face from the incoming collusion. A part of him wondered if he should pray, if anything would even consider saving him with his track record of mayhem. "I wanna live. I'd donate all my money if I have to.", spilled out as a promise, thought he meant just the first part, letting go of his usual lifestyle felt impossible, out of the question. It's all he had and considered deserving off after surviving being raised by a Gallagher-Kerring. Sébastien had no idea how his landing actually unfolded as he kept his eyes shut, chanting reassurances under his breath, all he knew was that one second he was facing certain death, the next he felt his parachute hook onto something. "What the-", he could still hear faint shouts behind him, as his harness pulled at his body, feet dangling uselessly midair instead of touching the ground below, "I'm alive? Fuck. Gotta move." His hands shook as he grasped at the buckles, willing for his fingers to cooperate and undo them before whatever advantage he had on his attackers would vanish entirely.

"It's not that high. Nope.", he lied to himself, feeling idiotic for fearing such small drop after having literally dove out from a plane and risked his life for thrills. He held his breath as the final straps keeping him suspended gave way and gravity brought him down, his not so graceful but loosened stance softening his fall to a degree. With racing heart he relaxed into the grass beneath him, his victory becoming shortlived as he looked up and met a pair of angry eyes, then his gaze lowered, stopping at the rifle cluthed in the bloody grip of the unkept man looming above him. "Friendly, kind sir.", he whispered and shimmied back until his helmet made contact with something solid. It's just a big stone. Yeah. Not a leg connected to a person. It's what went through his mind despite suspecting reality was different and granted, when his head twisted to glance at what he had run into in his attempt to retreat, another just as equally furious seeming man greeted him by sneering his way. He would have bet a good chunk of money they were brothers, with the one behind him looking like he had been eating his vegetables and then some. "Fried-", a hand pulled him to his feet like he weighted nothing and made the word die before it formed fully, especially with how the longhaired Berserker wanna-be was holding onto his helmet, making him wonder if his grip would squish his head if nothing stood in its path. The fact he was taller than Sébastien didn't help, either. "We should call this in. Otis, get me Brother John on the line.", the shorter brother barked an order, attention shifting past the two. And then there were three?

His captor let out a low grunt, "We should, Bo… but he said he is to not be bothered today. Under any circumstance." "With the exception of anything related to the Deputy.", a third voice presumably belonging to Otis added, or at least it's what he hoped - that he wasn't about to be surrounded by a whole gang of trigger happy locals that took trespassing way too seriously. I wasn't even touching the ground. His hand inched up to his face, aiming for the clasp under his chin while Bo rubbed his dark beard, contemplating their options. "This Sinner fell from the sky.", he pointed his rifle at Sébastien, making him hold his breath in anticipation of the worst, "What if this is part of the Father's prophecy? A sign?" Sinner? Father? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING? Did I travel back in time? Sébastien forced a laugh, "It's called skydiving, have you people not heard of it? You know, plane, jumping, freefalling, then parachuting the rest of the-" The Berserker shook him in warning, its threatening tone not halting his concealed efforts at freeing himself, "SHUT UP." "Sorry. Just-" "I said shut your mouth, Sinner before you become an Angel.", the sentence was uttered through gritted teeth, before the man addressed his shorter look-alike, "Or the Sinners are sending in reinforcements, airdropping them, hoping we'd be caught off guard." Like I have a chance at taking you all out. I've been hitting the gym, but not that HARD. "Call this in, Otis. Brother John would like to know.", Bo concluded with a nod.

The second the command was spoken out loud, the clasp securing the helmet to Sébastien's head came undone. Before any of the three men could blink, he was making a run for it, discarding the piece of equipment as years of running track in highschool came back to him, but instead of running to impress his father, he was running for his life. "GRAB HIM.", the scream Bo released pushed him to speed up, his calves and whole body really aching from the fall while his eyes remained glued ahead, knowing glancing back would do him no good. Only add to his raising panic, feeding a different level of adrenaline. With the rustling behind him signaling the nearing recapture, he vaulted the fence that stood between him and freedom, leaping onto the road and almost getting ran over by a white truck in the process. His hands rose up as to shield him as Sébastien saw his life flash before him for a second time that day before whoever was behind the wheel hit the breaks hard, forcing the vehicle to an abrupt stop inches away from him. "I'M CROSSING HERE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.", he yelled and hit the truck's hood for good measure, and he would have been embarrassed by how high pitched the words were, if he wasn't absolutely furious. I'm a Gallagher-Kerring. His brain didn't even fully register the strange cross painted on the vehicle or how it matched the one on his pursuers' sweaters. "Get down.", a deep voice responded before a shot rang out and he ducked without a second thought, scrambling towards the side of the truck as bullets began flying. A rumbling noise sounded from the treeline, followed by a red light exploding in the sky. A flare.

Sébastien watched in horror, suspecting more trouble was headed his way when the gunfire died down as fast as it had started. "Hey.", a door slammed shut, making him move further away from the passenger's side of the truck while the same voice from before added, "You alive, jaywalker?" Boots crunched against the gravel as he rounded the front of the vehicle, his determined approach and the fact he was armed activating Sébastien's fight or flight instincts. "Stay back.", he hollered as a blond man, who couldn't have been older than him, came into view. "Easy now.", a laughter escaped him when he shoved his gun in the waistband of his jeans, his palm circled his own face then pointed at him, "Did you fall into a bush?" "No." "Got caught in the cattle fence as little ducky was crossing the road? Where's your mama?", Sébastien eyed his outstretched arm with suspicious before reluctantly grabbing it so he can help him up. He shook of the man's hold, putting safe distance between them as he braced for another attack. "Skydiving into a tree.", he muttered under his breath and a realization dawned on him, "YOU- YOU- DUCKY?" The stranger shrugged as he regarded him from head to toe before swiveling on his heel, "Yellow. Duck. Wasn't me who picked that outfit, chief. Would you rather me call you baby chick? That was option B. Felt too on the nose."

His anger rose back to the surface as the man climbed back into his truck and he spun to stare at him through the rolled down window, "You have no idea who you're talking to!" All he got initially was a slow, unimpressed blink, "Do tell, your Majesty?", he tapped his watch, an old looking thing, "But make it quick." "I-", his mouth snapped shut. A smirk came over the man across him, "Well? You shy? I'd start first, name's Calahan. Calahan Hartley. Your turn." "Sébastien Theodore Phoenix Sawyer Thatcher Landon Nicholas Gallagher-Kerring.", his full name spilled out, making him feel like he was at the front of his class, confusing everyone and then himself by the reaction it always got out of people. Blond eyebrows twisted in confusion before Calahan released a chuckle, the usual of recognition upon speaking the Gallagher-Kerring name nowhere in sight, "Wait. Are you actually for real?" "It's my name." "Jesus. Your parents hate you or something, bud?", he leaned back into his seat, giving him a first look at the bodies laying on the road a few feet away from them, the pools of blood making him woozy. In turn, Hartley seemed completely at ease, like he hadn't just taken out three men and potentially saved his life. Sébastien frowned, "No." Silence took over before Calahan cleared his throat and nodded at the passenger's side, "You need a ride?" "I will pass." "Be my guest, your Majesty, just a friendly word of advice… that red flare? Means more of those fuckers are coming as reinforcements and I ain't sticking around to play your bodyguard, I'm on a tight schedule. When they roll up, just say you're ready for your Cleansing and praise the Father."

"You're not one of them?" "Hell no." A sigh left Sébastien before his fingers lowered to the door handle, "They shot at me." "Their usual modus operandi with all of us locals. Where?" He pulled at his sleeve until the place where one of the bullets had grazed his upper arm peeked through, crimson marrying the yellow material. "Have seen worse, far worse." "Are you serious?" Mischief shone in his eyes, "You're gonna live, bud, I promise, giving ya the word of a Hope County Deputy. Last chance, are you hitching a ride with me or going for a Peggie pick-up? John is going to have a field day with ya." As he said that, he stepped on the gas enough for the vehicle to inch forward, clearly enjoying the precicament Sébastien had found himself in and how riled up he got at his words. "Who's John?", he asked as he settled into the passenger seat. "It's a long story, short one is: someone you don't want to mess with. How about you start tellin' me how you ended up here and why these three were chasing you?" "It's a long story.", Sébastien parrotted back, finding himself unable to shake off the bitereness at the man's previous comments. "Cheer up, your Majesty. I should be sulking at you for almost denting my truck, after the hassle it was to steal." "I have a name. And you stole a truck?" Calahan rolled his eyes, "Among other things. So, what should I call you for short because I ain't reciting that long-ass name back to you…"

His hands crossed over his chest as Calahan put the truck into drive, "Nothing." "Rubber ducky it is, then." "Maurizio's fine.", he grumbled, causing the Deputy to laugh again. So happy to be providing entertainment for you. "That wasn't even among the names you listed, chief. I think." "It's what friends call me." "Uh-oh, did I get upgraded to a friend?" "Absolutely not." "Ouch.", Calahan rubbed his chest, "Hurts almost as a bullet. You part of a dynasty?" "Something like that. Why were they shooting at me?" "Cult took over after we tried to arrest their leader, has the whole county on lockdown and communications cut off, hence why I was askin' how you got here." "What, I don't look like a local?" He snorted, "Do I start with your outfit, posh accent, or long name that won't fit on a name tag?" "I'm regretting my choice to hitchhike already." "Hey, no offense. You asked. Plus, you need to flag me down first, not jump out in the middle of the road like you're trying to trap me into paying you damages." Sébastien ignored the apology, "How do I get to Missoula?" "You listening to anything I just said? Or did you hit your head as you fell down? Lockdown." Denial seeped into his system at the fact he was stranded in the wrong place, "I need a ride to Missoula." "Can't do."

"I will pay you.", he patted the inside pocket of his suit, the wad of cash he carried around for emergencies giving him a sense of comfort. "As tempting as that sounds, we're in a middle of a holy war, so I can't be your personal driver." "I need to make a call then. You got a cell?" He had left his own behind, knowing his father would immediately track him down otherwise, now he kind of wished he would have left a trail to follow. Certainly, would have solved his 'stuck in the middle of a hostile conflict' problem promptly. Calahan groaned, "You truly ain't listening." The truck drove past a sign announcing they're entering 'Fall's End.', and his attention drifted off again, forcing his reluctant driver to call out his nickname. "What?" "I asked if you're fine making a quick stop on the way to the doctor's. I know you have to get that fatal wound treated ASAP." "Stop where?" Various structures lined the road on both sides, some burned down, others appearing like they had housed a face-off or two. "Here.", the vehicle rolled to a stop in front of a relatively spared building, the neon sign of a woman in just her bikini and a set of wings drawing his gaze. "A bar? It's barely past noon." He had no idea why he had even muttered that, considering he himself had participated in far worse activities in his lifetime, ones that often created a media storm Frank Gallagher-Kerring paid a fortune to bury. "You can stay in the car, posh boy. I won't be long."

Calahan didn't wait for his reply, quickly exiting the car without sparing him a look as he strutted inside the bar. "Fuck this.", Sébastien slammed the door with way too much force, contemplating if he should try to track down a working phone line, no matter how much he dreaded crawling back to his father that soon. This is hardly a proper rebellion. At the end, he dragged himself towards the bar, the bell's jiggle cutting off whatever conversation Calahan was having with a woman and by the knowing look she gave him, he was most likely the subject of it. "Mary May, this is…", Hartley paused, expecting he would just introduce himself, then turned around to shoot him a glance, "Humor me. I saved your life." "Sébastien Gallagher-Kerring." "Hilarious. You forgot like 20 names." "Whatcha drinking?", the blonde nodded his way. "Organic tea?" Before he knew it, she was placing a quick kiss against Calahan's cheek before backing away with an annoyed expression, "I hate you, you know that, Rookie?" "The feeling of being right.", he sighed and locked his hands at the nape of his neck, leaning back in the chair he was occupying. "Sorry, I'm lost.", Sébastien uttered out as he slid into the seat next to his. "You're in a bar in Montana.", Mary May began and placed an empty glass in front of him, "Closest you'd get to me making you tea, even at lunch is serving you lukewarm water with some of my spit in it. Organic." Calahan leaned in, whispering loudly, "Also known as blatant disrespect. Which I would advise against." "Damn right. You order liquor.", she chimed in as she poured him a drink, "With how pale you are, it might even do you some good."

"Man went through his first Peggie encounter, Angel." "And then Zorro got to his face and bold choice of outfit, too?" It was the second time someone had commented on his face, making him wonder if he wanted to see the damage done by his landing while his hand ran across his clean-shaven cheek. "Skydiving." At the same moment Calahan said, "Maurizio hugged a tree… and it hugged him back." "No wonder he asked for organic tea." "He is also in the room.", Sébastien retorted back before he brought the glass to his lips, hoping the alcohol look make his situation seem less hopeless, or at least take care of the constant dull pain in his arm. The bell chimed behind him, and while he ignored the sound, choosing to wallow in his bad luck, Hartley spun around in his seat and let out a low whistle directed at whoever had arrived. "Chief! Come meet a noble." "Noble?", there was humor in the newcomer's voice as he slapped his back and leaned against the bar. Sébastien could feel him staring and he reluctantly lifted his gaze, meeting a pair of friendly blue eyes. "See this face, ducky? You see someone like him but covered in tattoos and rambling about sin and the Power of Yes,", Calahan waves his hand towards the man's face like he was giving a lesson, "you run the other way. Preferably not in front of my truck." "Very funny, Cal.", the dark haired man grumbled out, before reaching his arm across him for a handshake, "Leslie Parish. Don't mind him. I look nothing like John." "Still in denial." "Sébastien Gallagher-Kerring." "Well, now that you two are acquainted, Les, do you feel like givin' me a hand and taking this one to the doc? Peggies gave him a boo-boo." After blowing a kiss to Mary May Calahan jumped out of his chair, pushing the door open just as Leslie finally realized he was being entrusted to take care of a complete stranger, "Should I expect trouble?" He smirked at the question, "From me or him? Both debatable."

[syn4k]

due to frequent budget cuts (and the fact that the mianite s1 nether and end temples are missing from the world download), the portions of this trailer that are set in said dimensions are going to be recorded with the relevant characters standing in front of green screens instead

[aspectpriority]

Once again wondering how Anyone does Anything, and I have to remind myself that most people who Are doing things aren't dealing with the same shit we are. We're doing our best under our specific circumstances, and that's all we Can do, even if it's frustrating sometimes.

[grayscale-sparks]

gray how do you not yap about fanfiction you're working on.

I'm realizing how big The Fox and The Butcher will be if I write what I'm thinking/ how big it has the potential to be if I flesh it out a lot and it. It's a bit daunting. And I want to yap about it. Since realizing how big I could make this part of me feels like I should like do it chronologically and not publish anything au 39 or 40 related till I do some things in the 2 year gap and then 35 and all but I want to talk about it. so much. I wrote part of a conversation that takes place post 35 last night and I want to scream about it (it's not amazing. I wrote it at like 2 am when I couldn't sleep. But there are a few particular lines that I love and HHHHHHH I want to scream about them.) but I also feel like I should finish that First Meeting fic first but that's going no where at the moment or do something pre 35 at least that's purely hitman Noel related but. I want to think about how realizing Dennis's target was the man he was told to help affects his brain in the day between 35 and 39.

And it's making me think about The Man in the Mirror and yeah I wasn't caught up on malevolent during those 7 months so I wasn't there in person but like did you talk about things? How did you not talk about things? Did you keep any secrets in a vault. Gray how do you not talk about exciting ideas and fun lines. Like you spent 7 months writing this guy's back story.

And Also! Noel's (Charlie's) just neat. Call us the King in Yellow the way we're in this guy's head.

And it's an AU!!!! (tfatb that is.) This isn't even canon Noel! or canon divergent! But I sit down to think about a wip like the 3 years earlier au or like the "What if Arthur mentioned to Noel that the KiY had made him not hear John and then the moment where John forgets who Noel is has more implications for Noel" idea from a bit ago and suddenly I have The Fox and The Butcher doc open instead. I can write canon compliant fics! I have! I just also can't stop thinking about the differences between canon Charlie and tfatb Charlie and it makes me sad and suddenly I'm typing a whole lot (as seen in this ask)

So feel free to make anything on any post I ever make Charlie Dowd related because yeah I get it. I also want to yap about him. I want to put him in stressful circumstances and then have someone show him the tiniest bit of concern. I want to tear apart the masks and lies and layers that are him and those that he's been dealt.

So like. How do you not yap about things. Or do you? Do you just yap about things?

HI this is an absolutely delightful ask

so first of all your fic sounds so so good and long huge fics take A LOT out of you. So make sure to pace yourself and TAKE NOTES! I cannot stress this enough. Take. Notes. Anything and everything even if you don’t use it. Write it down somewhere.

and if you need to take a break please for the love of god do it. I never would have finished TMITM if I worked through my burn out there at the end.

that being saaaidd. Eight months. It was eight months working on it. I started in the beginning of August. But fun fact! I didn’t join tumblr until October I think.

and about the yapping truuust me once I got comfortable with my mutuals I did not shut up. I posted snippets on Wednesdays and chapters would go up on fridays. I vague posted so much.

but honestly? I never ever would have finished if it weren’t for @lordofthesoups. I could talk to him about anything and everything and the last few chapter titles of New York underwent SERIOUS renovations. Being completely honest New York wouldn’t have been anything if it weren’t for them.

what I’m trying to say is, talk about it! Get people excited! It’s just as good for you as it is for other people to get interested in your work. My dms are always open if you need help or if you’re just really excited about some dialogue. It’s hard work, but the pay off is phenomenal.

[soulproductionsgames]

"Aino"