all the awards, holy hell, @bluestale hell yes hell YES HC ACCEPTED
i literally dropped the animation i was working on because i got emotional just reading your message earlier today at the memories of that song - then i listened to it, and immediately doomed myself - soooo here, here you all go, please join me in having feelings about Blue?? it’s a storyboard-style video but i had to do something with all of these feelings aw geez.
When Lucas, although clumsily, asks Max to dance, Will hides
a smile for his friend. Max accepts teasingly, and the two head off to the
dance floor together. Mike, Dustin and Will stand there for only a moment, eyes
lingering on their friends as they dance, when a girl from their Science class,
Ava, walks up to them.
“Hey,” she says, looking straight on Will. “Do you wanna
“Uh, um, I don’t, I mean” Will stutters while he
instinctively looks to Mike, who for a moment looks as shocked as Will feels. Much
to Will’s disappointment though, Mike does not relieve him, but gives him an
encouraging nod, urging him to respond. Will looks away, meets Ava’s eyes
awkwardly. “I mean, yeah, sure.”
brienne is good. she’s very good, and she learns quickly. it’s that, more than anything else, that makes arya glad that she was training with her and not the master at arms. the master at arms was a good man, and had his hands more than full teaching children and girls who’d never held a bow in their lives how to shoot. arya could have swept the floor with him.
but not brienne. brienne’s big, but she’s quick too. that’s what makes her so powerful. and it’s not long at all before she’s started to read arya’s little tricks.
arya’s good–she’s trained hard for years now. the feel of needle in her hand is right. she refuses to use a broadsword when sparring brienne; she trains with it separately, but with brienne she is testing herself, testing them both. needle is a part of her in a way the way other steel never truly will be. jon gave me needle. needle, which had gotten her through anything. she wishes he were here. if i’d come straight here instead of going to the twins…but she hadn’t known…
the flat of brienne’s sword smacks her side and she lets out a cry.
“you’re distracted,” brienne barks. arya crouches and lets out a growl and this time, when brienne swings, she dodges easily. no distractions, she reminds herself. she wasn’t allowed distractions–not ever. it’s why she was good, it’s how she’d survived. never letting herself give in though gods only knew how the world had tried to make her. she steps aside as brienne swipes and snakes needle through the woman’s outstretched arm. brienne pulls away, and arya presses forward. quick as a cat.
oysters clams and cockles! she’d been a girl named cat once–cat for her mother. her mother had once watched her chasing bran through the yard and–
“you’re distracted,” brienne repeats, knocking needle from her hand. the steel spins across the courtyard and brienne’s sword swings for her chest, halting just short of it. “you’re not usually distracted.”
she’s not. it’s true. she looks around the courtyard and her eyes fall on needle. i’m home, she thinks. home, except home’s not quite right. sansa’s the lady of winterfell, and bran doesn’t smile anymore, and jon’s not here. and robb, and rickon, and mother and father… somewhere deep down inside her, that old hole in her heart aches. it’s strange being here without them.
in all the years she’d dreamed of coming home, the years of empty bellies and lies and fear–gods, so much fear–she’d not really imagined what it would be like to be home. and not like this.
she bends down and picks up needle. the sword is the size of a toy in her hand, and much smaller than brienne’s valyrian steel blade. she closes her eyes for a moment and remembers for just a moment the way it was, when father had been alive, when jon had been here…
she opens her eyes and turns back to brienne, sinking back to a guard stance. she’ll fight for that. fight for how it was, fight for how she remembers it, because if she can do that, then it’s not over, not truly. winterfell beats in her heart so long as she lives.
Me:“I want to make a high fantasy story! With adventure and magic and elves and dwarves and stuff!“
Also me:“But first let me just figure out their genetics really quick…”
(I swear I’ll get back to stuff I’m supposed to be working on soon…)
A really quick evolutionary tree of the five main races in this one fantasy setting of mine. (For more stuff check my tag #I STILL don’t have proper tag for this setting) Represented here by the main cast of the story, given how they’re very conveniently each representing each of the races.
Dwarves diverged first from the rest of the races by getting stuck on an island. They are adapted to their home island environment of ginormous dense forests and cavey rock base, so they are actually about as well adapted to climbing trees as they are dwelling in caves (hence long arms and dense muscles similar to great apes, though the muscle density also means they can’t float which isolated them from the rest of the world for such a long ass time). By a fluke they’re technically able to reproduce with humans, but the chances of that happening are very low, and the resulting offspring isn’t healthy even if it manages to survive long enough to be born.
Humans and the elvish races were separated in different continents, and somewhere in the early development of the pointy eared kind they had a mutation that changed the number of chromosomes they had, before splitting on to orcs and elves. The pointy-ears can breed with humans, but this results in sterile offspring. (Dwarves can’t reproduce with the pointy-ear people at all.)
The elvish peoples have divided themselves pretty arbitrarily. Orcs and elves were originally separated first by a desert and/or mountain range, the orcs being more ambush predators while the elves being more of a pursuit hunters, both of them being slightly more on the carnivorous side of omnivores than humans and dwarves. The final and most recent split happening when the elves split in two groups, the other moving up north and becoming smaller and lighter in coloration, around which time the taller elves and orcs were reunited and started to mingle culturally, mostly in a friendly way. Culturally speaking the two races consider each other sisters, while othering the northern elves completely. You call a high orc an elf only to insult them.
The “high orc” is an elf term, since the “high” ones themselves don’t see the highness. They themselves consider orcs to be divided in two, to fire and earth, and that those elf people are just being arrogant by saying that since the fire orcs look more elvish they are by default of “higher” quality. The orc folks generally don’t really like elves all that much.
(Also worth noting that none of them are immortal or live to be thousands of years old. You won’t get extra free lifetime coupons in my worlds.)
Morpheus, son of Sleep, the leader of the Oneiroi (personified spirits of dreams), and the god of dreams who delivered messages from the gods to the mortal world. The name signifies the fashioner or moulder, because he shaped or formed the dreams which appeared to the sleeper.