esthelle18
Between Xanadu and Eldorado
Not all those who wander are lost. Female and Christian. Fandom flotsam and jetsam, including but not limited to LoZ, Linked Universe, LotR, Fullmetal Alchemist, The Promised Neverland, and Watership Down.
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In an everlasting state of confusion
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I replayed my favorite Zelda game recently and I was so inspired to draw some real fanart for it. I know phantom hourglass isn’t the most popular in the series, but it was the first Zelda game I ever played and it has a special spot in my heart. Also, I think Linebeck permanently affected my taste in fictional men all the way back in 2007
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And thus it was that the dark lord Ganon (while distracted by a fishing rod) was defeated by one sword, a silver arrow, and seven empty bottles.
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Linked Universe Triple Threat causing problems if you're still doing LU stuff?
(Triple Threat, in case you don't know, is Hyrule, Legend, and Wild.)
Arson is always the solution
#hyrule you aren’t fooling anyone son#I love this style very much#lu comic#lu legend#lu hyrule#lu wild
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I feel like modern au zuko can drive, is very good at it, has his license, and will get you where you need to go but like. with very dangerous efficiency. he drives like Evel Knievel. he drives like a bat out of hell. he whips the wheel hard as fuck and you will see Jesus even if the drive is from your house to the corner store. his car is used and like 10 years old but she is strong and loyal just like her master and wont break down for anything. she'll tear over anything in her path. zuko has given iroh so many mini heart attacks while driving him around (<- because iroh does NOT have his license). worst of all is that zuko does NOT talk or road rage ever when he drives he's DEAD SILENT and simply blasts the radio. and its always either terrifying Chinese opera or crazy shit like Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd
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i'm sure people have sent you the answer 293 times already too but just in case, the water texture is a default photo filter on the tumblr photo editor!
WE HAVE A PHOTO EDITOR?
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this showed up in my FB memories, the lightning bolt trick! I don't sketch out the lightning bolt much nowadays but it's still super helpful when I need to lay out tricky arms and leg poses. And I still apply the logic of it, especially with how I draw arms :' ) Biggest thing it helps with is shape breakdown and visualization, we gotta use whatever works to break down shapes into simpler concepts for our brains 👏💓
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mob + shoka + a laundromat late at "night", for the ficlet prompts
[set uhhhh vaguely between episode 14 and baseball. as with all things just pretend they visit this car somewhere in there]
"hey," mob says, passing in front of the washing machine where she's perched with her phone. "are you gonna help?"
"i am helping," shoka says, without looking up. "i'm moral support."
the group has a list of garments they need to find, to exit the car. shoka isn't doing that shit. the cars with an arbitrary list of things you have to find are so boring, and everyone else seems way more goal-oriented than her. they'll get it done in no time.
"you know, i - i still have questions for you," mob says.
"and i told you," shoka says, "i'm not answering."
"i don't get you," mob says.
she smirks. "i'm an enigma, baby. if that's all you've got, you can go back to your little scavenger hunt."
"no, i mean - i don't get you. you follow us away from the apex, you bully your way into coming with us, but you don't want us to know anything about you." mob's come to a full stop in front of her now, twisting whatever shirt or skirt he has in his hands into something more resembling a rope. "you haven't even tried to talk to any of us on, like, a real level besides insulting us. so, uh, i guess my question is, what the fuck is that about?"
"wow, you're swearing now? getting a little edgy since your friend left?"
shoka looks up through her lashes, watching the expression on mob's face skew more and more frustrated. if he stays here long enough, he's going to want to talk about her being dead, how she died, all that crap she doesn't care to answer. she's seen mob psycho 100, so she knows how this works. he finds an in to empathize with her, to make her realize something about herself - and shoka's in the business of a lot of things, but self-introspection isn't one of them.
"i'm trying to have a real conversation," mob says. "if you're going to stick with us, i feel like we deserve-"
"oh, tell me more about what you deserve," shoka says. she puts her phone aside, finally, to look mob in the eye; his gaze slides away from hers, just like she suspected it would. "you know why i haven't tried to talk to you? because i know you, dummy. i've seen your show. hey, i heard you went 100% in the casino, actually. how'd that feel? you scare any of your new friends?"
"that's - none of your business," mob says. his hands are balled into tight fists around the fabric he's holding, his knuckles paper-white.
"you're the one who wanted to talk," shoka says. "is this enough talking for you?"
mob opens his mouth to answer, real annoyance flashing in his eyes for a half-second.
"how's that percentage doing?" shoka asks sweetly, before he can get another word out.
"fine," mob says through his teeth. it's hard to tell if it's an actual answer or if he's just talking to himself, because he turns on his heel and walks off quickly afterwards, joining audrey on the other side of the room.
shoka shrugs and goes back to her phone. better to teach the kid now what happens when you corner a cat.
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Not-Yet-Written Fics Game
Thanks for tagging me @hobbitwrangler! 💛 Here's some of the ideas I've been turning over in my head:
Faramir & Arwen and the grief of loving someone whose life is much shorter: Arwen glimpses her coming grief as she witnesses Faramir's grief over Éowyn's death.
Finrod & Frodo and failed tasks: Finrod and Frodo meet in Aman, feat. lots of parallels between their failed attempts at defeating Sauron.
Nerdanel & Finrod and sculpture: Under Nerdanel's tutelage, Finrod learns the art of carving and sculpture that he will later use when helping shape Nargothrond.
Faramir dreams of fire: In the days before the siege of Minas Tirith, Faramir is plagued by dreams of fire. The dreams do not leave after the war is won.
Éowyn dreams of great deeds: Éowyn listens to a bard sing of the valor of a shieldmaiden of old and dreams of greatness.
Celebrían the scholar: Celebrían, noted scholar of natural history, fills Rivendell's libraries with her research.
Tagging @grey-gazania @dreamingthroughthenoise @sallysavestheday @slightnettles @thescrapwitch if you have some unwritten fics you'd like to share!
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34 for Al and Hawkeye, please?
Let Me Count the Ways ask game
Prompt: "I'll keep you safe."
Maybe they shouldn't have stopped for burgers and shakes. It was pouring rain out there, and the temperature was dropping fast. Might turn into freezing rain before too long.
But Five Guys was their tradition. Riza drove Al to speech therapy, and as long as he didn't drag his feet or have a bad attitude about it, they would stop for a late lunch on their way home. They even had a little ritual they ran through each time, just for fun. “Hmm, where should we go for lunch?” Riza would ask, pretending to think. Then Al would hold up one hand, grinning along with the joke, and Riza would say, “Five Guys?” as if she never would have thought of it on her own. Then they would both laugh like it was the best joke they'd ever heard.
The only time Riza got to hear her foster son's voice was when he laughed. It was worth it.
“Got your scarf and gloves?” Riza asked, opening her umbrella before putting one hand on the door.
Woolen blue fingers wrapped around her arm. She glanced down and saw Al huddling close to her as if for warmth, eyeing the door with trepidation. Riza tugged the hood of his blue coat over his head, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Don't worry, Al,” she murmured. “I'll keep you safe. Let's just run, and it'll be over in five seconds, okay?”
Slowly, Al nodded.
It was more of a huddling jog than a run, and it took more than five seconds because Riza had to juggle both the umbrella and the key fob, but they both made it into the car relatively dry. With a relieved sigh, Riza tossed the sopping umbrella to the floor on the passenger side and turned on the car, cranking up the heat all the way. She swiped her damp bangs out of her face and checked on Al in the rearview mirror. He was buckled in and shivering hard, hugging himself and rocking slightly. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to be instantly transported home. How she wished she could spare him the drive.
Riza decided the best thing would be to get home as fast as possible, so she didn't say anything more to him, just started the windshield wipers and eased back out of their parking space. “These wipers are useless in the rain,” she muttered, squinting through the smeared windshield and turning on the defroster. She needed to text Roy and see if he could pick up some replacements on the way home.
As she headed for the highway, Riza mentally ran through her to-do list. Once they got home, she needed to call the phone company to see if the issue with the bills had gotten sorted out. She should peek into the boys' bathroom and make sure they'd cleaned it like they were supposed to, and then she needed to clean her and Roy's bathroom. By then it would probably be time to start on supper, and oh, was today a karate day and had Roy said he could drive the boys or—
The loud blare of a horn startled Riza out of her thoughts. A semi, slipping out of control from the left. Moving on pure instinct, Riza slammed her foot on the gas and aimed for the shoulder. The semi slipped and slid on its way, and they jostled and bumped over the muddy grass. Riza managed to stop before the ground fell away into the ditch. Hands shaking, she pulled the parking brake and turned on the hazard lights before letting out a long, slow breath of relief.
She looked over her shoulder to find Al hunched over in his seat, his gloved hands clawing at his face as he drew in shaky, shuddering breaths. “Al? Are you okay?” No, that was a stupid question. “Are you hurt?” she amended. “Alphonse!”
The twelve-year-old boy peeked over his hands at her, but she could tell that he didn't see her. It was like he was looking through her, to another rainy day in another car with another woman sitting behind the wheel as a truck came out of nowhere....
“Al....” Riza unfastened her seatbelt and clambered over the center console, squeezing between the front seats to get to the back. It was difficult and inelegant, but she managed. Better than opening the door and letting in all that cold wind and rain.
As she settled into the seat next to Al, she listened to his frantic, choked breaths that came faster and faster with every passing minute. He wasn't looking at her, just staring fixedly at the driver's seat. Occasionally, his eyes slid over to the front passenger seat as well.
Riza's heart clenched tightly as she imagined what he must be seeing. Trisha Elric, forehead resting on the steering wheel, blood trickling down the side of her face, her vacant eyes staring into nothing. Ed, trapped under the twisted metal, blood spreading up his left leg. Still breathing, but so shallow, so erratic, eyes closed. No response to Al's screams. The last words Al had ever spoken, a desperate plea for his family to not leave him alone.
She hadn't been there. She'd only read reports from after the fact, and talked to Mrs. Rockbell and the boys' therapists. And yet, she could see it all as clearly as if she'd lived it herself. She could almost hear those screams.
“Mom...Mom...Mom....”
Wait. That voice, ragged and faint, wasn't just in her imagination. Tears sprang to her eyes as she heard that one word whispered in wheezing gasps muffled behind blue gloves.
She could have listened to that voice for hours, but Al was shaking so hard she actually thought she could feel the car rocking slightly. So Riza scooted a little closer, saying as gently as she could, “Al? Can you listen to me, sweetie? I need you to breathe with me.”
His eyes latched onto hers, and for the first time since they'd swerved off the road, he actually seemed to see her.
“That's right,” Riza said, reaching for his hands. “Just like we always do, okay?”
He let her take his hands in hers and pull them away from his face. Riza led him in a deep breathing exercise, and found that her own heart rate eased as well. The adrenaline from their near miss was beginning to wear off, leaving her feeling exhausted and limp. She almost wished she'd brought Hayate with them after all. They both could have used the soothing comfort of his soft fur and warm, wet tongue.
“We're okay,” she whispered, reassuring herself as much as Al. “You're safe now. We're both safe.”
Just like every time thunder and lightning put Ed on edge and sent Al skittering into their bedroom to crawl under the covers. Roy would get up to make everyone hot chocolate, Ed would crank up his music so they could hear it faintly through his headphones, and Al would curl up like one of his cats against her side, and they would all cram into the king-sized bed to wait out the storm.
“Mom,” Al croaked again, his voice rough from disuse. “Mom....”
Tears spilled over his cheeks, and Riza reached over to gently brush them away. “I know, honey, I know.” Hot tears stung her own eyes. “I'm so sorry.”
“Mom....” Al raised one gloved hand and placed it on her cheek. He was looking at her so intently, so earnestly, like there was so much he wanted to say, but he was stuck on that one word, choking on the sobs that shook him head to foot. He put his other hand on her other cheek, as if to hold her in place. “Mom....”
A thought occurred to her, as sudden and shocking as the semi that had nearly hit them: He's calling me Mom.
Tears blurred her eyes till she couldn't even see him. “I'm here,” she whispered.
He flung his arms around her, squeezing so hard it took her breath away. She hugged him back, held him tight, squeezed her eyes shut against the tears. She rocked them back and forth, patting him on the back.
Riza had always known motherhood would be strange for her, who had never known the gentle touch of a mother. When she and Roy had first talked about starting a family, she had been plagued with doubts about whether she would be able to manage it. A thousand times, she'd tried to imagine herself rocking a baby to sleep, kissing the skinned knees and bumped foreheads of a toddler or two...and she'd always drawn a blank, since she'd never had that herself. What if she could never get the hang of it? She was a soldier, not a mother.
And yet, sitting in this car on the side of the road, holding a twelve-year-old boy sobbing his heart out...it didn't matter that she hadn't given birth to him. It didn't matter that they'd only known each other for a little over a year. It didn't matter that they'd never once had a normal conversation.
This was her son. She loved him so much she thought her chest might split open with the force of it. And judging from the way Al kept sobbing that name over and over again, clutching at her like his life depended on it...he felt the same.
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On a scale of Tolkien protagonists, how has your adventure been treating you?
I’m so sorry in advance to anyone who says Túrin.
Keep reading
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they used to make smackable technology. you used to be able to hit your tv when it didn't work good.
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my line has ended!
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In a nail biting match between the docile reformed war criminal and the lesbian space wizard, round 7 has ended with Valerie Frizzle coming up just 2.4 percentage points shy of victory. Iroh now moves to round 8, facing the older taller of the Elric brothers in what is likely to be yet another match to remember.
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I saw a post about teachers giving their students shit for accidentally yawning in class and so I just
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