wardenswateringhole - Tumblr blog

wardenswateringhole · 20 hours

Text

Reclamation - Chapter 1

-death mention

Cut for length. Enjoy.

Keys twirled around Emmet’s finger as he walked toward his home. His mind sorted through several different lists in his head. All the paper work done? Check. Trains checked and secured? Check. Depot Agents debriefed and schedules made? Check.

When one list finished another began. Was the new hire squared away? Did they receive their required employee materials? Was their uniform going to be available on their first day? Yes, yes and Yes.

Did he need to go shopping? Milk and eggs were stocked. Maybe he should pick up some soda? No. Not this time. Did he need more batteries for the joltiks? Battery supplies were holding for now. Could pick up extra treats tomorrow. The team were doing an extra good job on the battle line. They deserved it.

Next list was ready. Could they do better? What strategies felt fun and new? Were they getting stale? Maybe it was time for a change. Would that bring more challengers? More challengers would be nice. Challenger numbers felt too low…

When was that meeting again? It’s written down somewhere. What was it about? Challenger numbers being too low. Share holders had a problem with that? Not sure why. Things were just fine.

There was no need to worry. None at all.

Emmets mental rambling came to a halt as the key jingled and the door to his home opened. A white coat and hat were hung with care and shoes were slipped off and place by the door. The tune of an overly energetic children’s show could be heard playing on a television deeper into the abode. The smell of spices and warm food wafted through the air pairing logically with the sounds of sizzling and chopping coming from the kitchen. “I’m home!” Emmet voice rang out through it all. An instant response of happy giggling and the sound of small footsteps rushing toward his location could be heard. Two young boys came around the corner, their faces bright and excited to see him. He made to kneel in greeting them before he noticed one was traveling far faster than the other. Emmet tried to stop the inevitable. “Emery! Wait! Brake--!” Emery lost his footing almost as soon as the words left Emmet’s mouth. The other boy watched on as Emery barreled straight into Emmet’s crotch, causing the tall man to crumple like paper. Emmet’s form flopped to the floor, curled in the fetal position and desperately pulling air into his lungs as the pain blurred his vision. He only vaguely made out the two silver headed forms standing over him. A small voice reached his ears through the blood roaring in them. “Sorry, Dad…” A third taller figure soon appeared. They waved the children away and leaned down to Emmet. Soon Emmet was being led to a sofa in the living room by the dark-haired figure. They were much shorter than him but still managed to support his weight. The smell of food clung to them. As he stretched out on the sofa, the children reappear carrying an icepack. She gently chided the rambunctious boy. “Emery, what have we said about slowing down and watching our step?” “Speed, not haste, Momma.” “That’s right.” Emmet’s voice croaked out. “Please drive more safely in the future…”

The boy nodded sullenly. Even though it was obvious he was sorry, his mouth still remained stretched in a smile. He was very much an almost exact copy of his father. The everlasting grin remaining plastered on his face through everything. The other child looked on with bright eyes and a thumb tucked firm in his mouth. He also sported the same hair and face as his brother and father. Unlike them however, his mouth stayed bowed in a frown. It usually stayed hidden behind the fist attached to the thumb he currently coveted. The boy tugged at Emery’s arm and pointed to a pile of papers and crayons in front of the TV. Emery’s face lit of instantly. “Great idea, Iggy! Let’s show dad what we made!” They scampered over and grabbed a couple of sheets before returning and holding them up proudly for Emmet to see. They were both drawings of the boys with Pokémon of various kinds riding on trains of dubious design. The one Emery held had a train that looked to have flames coming out of the smokestack, while the other looked like it shot electricity out of its wheels. “We’re gonna have a battle train just like you when we grow up! This is totally what it’s gonna look like!” Emmet raised his head and looked over the drawings with as much interest as he could muster. His voice was a bit less strained as the pain in his groin began to subside. “That’s great, boys! Yep! But which train will you two take?” The children turned the papers back toward themselves and inspected their work closely. Emery frowned as best as his face could let him. “We don’t know… Iggy says mine is better, but I like his more. We can’t decide.” “Hmm…” Emmet stared at his sons thoughtfully. He was incredibly thankful they had inherited his interest in trains. He didn’t know how he would have felt had they gained an interest in, Dragons forbid, planes. They carried a healthy interest in Pokémon as well, despite not being ready for their first Pokémon yet.

Above it all, Emmet could not get over how much the pair looked exactly like him and Ingo when they were children. Many joked that it was Emmet that truly birthed them. His wife, Lela, would vehemently disagree. No one could deny the twenty-four hours of labor she endured to bring these children in the world only for them to look nothing like her. Emmet had remained by her side the entire time, save for the time he had fainted, and the doctors had to tend to him alongside her. A bump on the elbow and an IV needle seemed trivial compared to what she had gone through and the sheer amount of joy he had felt seeing his children’s faces for the first time. Tiny, pink, and covered in tiny translucent tufts that would eventually grow to the silver locks they now sported. It didn’t feel that long ago... “Why not try to combine your designs in some way?” Emmet felt he would have been blinded had he actually seen the light bulbs flare to life in their little heads. Their eyes went wide and bright as his words. “That’s a great idea, dad! C’mon Iggy!” The other child nodded enthusiastically before they both ran off to their room with drawings in hand. Emmet chuckled weakly as Lela came to sit on the floor next to where he lay on the sofa. “Dad imparting more great wisdom?” “Yep. You know it.” She rested her head on his shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He sighed as her nails grazed his scalp gently. “How are you holding up?”

Emmet’s smile flattened as his eyes drifted to a picture on the wall. It was of Ingo in his subway boss uniform, saluting the camera with his trademark frown. A black band was wrapped around the corners of the frame. Other photos sat around it in various candid moments that had been caught of the subway boss. One of him laughing at something with a cat like smile, another with cake smeared on his face most likely during a party. Another of him and Emmet in the middle of roughhousing and staring at the camera like they had been caught committing a crime. They were all cherished memories Emmet had chosen to display in tribute to his long lost brother.

“I’m holding…” He responded after a long silence. He nuzzled his face against Lela’s head. “You?”

“Same…”

Emmet sighed deeply. “Seven years today… I had actually forgotten until I saw the flowers…”

Lela looked at him in surprise. “They’re still leaving tributes to him?”

Emmet nodded. “Every year. I thought it would stop. But no. He’s still remembered.”

Emmet new full well it would continue long into the future. Every year, on this day and during their birthday, flowers and small offerings would appear around a plaque dedicated to Ingo’s memory and the tragedy that took him. It was always hard to see, a stark reminder of his other half being gone from this world. It was also comforting in a way. The world still remembered Ingo. Ingo did not leave the world without leaving his mark on it. People still celebrated the fact that he had existed in the first place. Emmet could only hope to be remembered as favorably as his brother was when his time came.

“It almost feels like Ingo is still alive…” Emmet mused. “Like he could walk through the door at any moment…”

Lela nodded. “We both loved him dearly…”

Emmet scoffed. “And that love brought us together…”

“Yeah…” Lela kissed Emmet’s forehead. He regarded her a moment. His eyes seemed to be searching for something in her face. To him, she looked as beautiful as the day he married her. Her dark hair and emerald eyes always struck him as enchanting. It bothered him slightly the boys didn’t get her eyes. Deep and lustrous. He could stare at them all day. If something didn’t seem to haunt him every time he stared into them too deeply. Though it was his own reflection, it always looked like Ingo was staring back at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

Emmet hesitated but the words fell from his mouth anyway. “Do you regret it?”

“What?”

Emmet’s eyes widened slightly realizing the thought had come out his mouth instead of staying in his head where Lela couldn’t see. “Marrying me…” Emmet trailed off. “I mean… You belonged to Ingo first…”

“Emmet. We’ve been over this…” Her arms wrapped awkwardly but affectionately around his head. “Do you honestly think that I would not have taken your proposal and had your children had I not loved you?”

“Hmm… No.” Emmet replied flatly snuggling into the embrace. “It’s just… I… don’t feel I deserve this… You, the boys, this home… It feels like Ingo was cheated out of this life…”

Memories of Ingo speaking of how he had dreamed of the idyllic domestic life rose in Emmet’s head. He had caught Ingo looking at rings on his phone at one time. It had made Emmet giddy when he first realized what Ingo was planning. Now the memory made him sick to his stomach.

“We live as happily as we can in his honor…” Lela replied, trying her best to calm Emmet’s worries. “You know Ingo would be beside himself with worry if he knew we were miserable without him.”

Emmet nodded. He could not deny that Ingo was selfless to a fault. He would bend over backwards to ensure his loved ones were well and taken care of. The same conversation would most likely happen if the roles had been reversed. But they weren’t. Emmet was alive.

Ingo was not.

“You are right.” Emmet pressed his face into Lela’s shoulder. She could hear him sniffing against the fabric of her shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Are you cooking what I think you are cooking?” His voice was muffled from his face still buried against her clothing. She laughed and pushed away from Emmet.

“Maybe. You’re just going to have to wait and find out.” She stood and smoothed her apron before looking back down at her husband. His eyes were tired.

“Why not relax before dinner? You know the boys are going to want you to play with them after eating.”

Emmet nodded as a yawn crept up almost as if on cue. Lela laughed once more and smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, Emmet.”

“I love you too, Lela.”

Lela walked away to finished dinner. Emmet made himself comfortable. His eyes drifted back to the wall dedicated to Ingo. Fate had played a cruel trick in taking Ingo away. What would Ingo think, Emmet wondered.

What would he think of his brother leading the life that was obviously meant for him?

“I wish you were here, Ingo…” Emmet muttered, closing his eyes. “I truly do.”

#wardenwrites #Emmet #Subway boss emmet #Ingo #Subway boss ingo #Oc Lela #Oc Emery #Oc Ignius #Pokemon

4 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 4 days

Text

Just applied for a job.

Wish me luck.

#wardenspeaks #Need funding for my projects

7 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 5 days

Text

I want to share this amazing find. I was planning on sitting down and constructing Nimbasa City for one of my projects and it seems someone did it for me.

Provided it's not perfect but it's enough for me to get the general landscape and layout i want. I figured someone else would benefit from this.

Nimbasa City Free 3D Model - .3ds .obj .dae .fbx .mtl .skp - Free3D

The site has other cities from Unova. Overall even if you don't download the models, the pictures themselves are good references.

#wardenspeaks #Art Ref #Nimbasa City #Pokemon

9 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 6 days

Text

This goes for visual artists as well. All of it. High Inspo, low motivation: Write out or do a quick dirty sketch of your idea. You can get to it later when you feel better. Low inspo, High Motivation: Just start drawing shapes. Eventually something clicks and it'll turn into something. If not, go do something else and come back and try again. Can't Bridge the Gap: Can't figure out part of your drawing? put a pin in it and work on another aspect of it. Stuck on lines? work on background. Stuck on color? work on shadow blocking. Staying stagnant can kill your flow.

Perfectionism and Self doubt: Ideas die because of this. Better to get it out stupidly than not at all. You can always go back and play with it more in the future. Do not bottle up your inspiration with that kind of thinking.

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

#wardenreblogs #Ive had to scream this at myself constantly.#I really needed to see all of this.

2K notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 8 days

Text

Shadowed Cross - Chapter 1

(This is an AU worked on by @peachypede and myself. Inspired by @bluebellowl's 50's AU.)

-Mild body horror

-Blood mention Cut for length. Enjoy.

Ilona’s legs pumped as hard as they could. The bike sped along the darkened road. All traffic had thankfully cleared out before the coming storm. The wind threatened to push Ilona backwards as it howled through the trees. She persevered, her cargo sitting in the basket in front of her reminding her why she was rushing the way she was.

It was supposed to be an easy dead drop. She’d find the package, secure it, and take it to it’s intended destination. Most likely another dead drop. It hadn’t panned out that way. A couple of old women just could not stop talking. Even after bidding each other good bye on four separate occasions, the conversation between them dragged on, leaving Ilona to wait even longer for them to clear out so she could search for the package. The sun’s rays had begun to reach for the horizon by the time the two ladies left and she was able to get on with her job. She had silently prayed for whoever Robert was and hoped that he didn’t mind the entire world knowing about the painful rash on his rear end.

Now here she was, rushing to beat the torrential downpour and lightning that threatened to rip the sky in twain. A small wooden box sat in the basket on her bike. Plain and unassuming with some winding carvings on the front. The clasp on the front was a weathered brass and fastened shut.

Despite her urgency, Ilona couldn’t help but let her mind wonder. Perhaps as a method of dealing with the circumstances being completely against her on this night. First the conversation with Everett, now this. What it worth it?

She peered down at the box. There was no way to tell what was inside. She hadn’t seen fit to ask what it was she transported on these dead drop jobs. They paid exceptionally well for what seemed like such simple tasks to her. Sure she had to sneak around a couple times to get the item in question. It never seemed overtly dangerous. Other than some overly tenacious guards at a warehouse or dogs in a junkyard.

Was it the cargo that was so valuable then? The box was so plain it was hard to believe anything of value was inside. Ilona’s gut twisted slightly at the thought of there possibly being drugs inside. Maybe Everett was right… Maybe it was time to stop this business…

A shadow darted across the road in front of her. Small and black. Ilona snapped back to her senses just in time to twist her handlebars and avoid running the creature over. It hissed and ran into the bushes as Ilona fell, tumbling across the pavement and eventually sliding to a stop. The box flew past her, leaving wooden shards in it’s wake. It eventually stopped some ten feet before in front of Ilona’s body.

Ilona slowly pulled herself up. She rubbed her face, checking for injuries. Thankfully nothing had happened to her head. Her arm however, had seen better days. A sharp pain coursed through her limb as she tried to move the arm. It moved at least, but tell tale wetness on her hand and the shredded bits of her sleeve spoke of what damage had been done.

Her attention snapped to the box in front of her. She managed to pull herself to her feet to retrieve it. Holding the object in her hurt arm, she pulled the bike upright and fidgeted with the light on the front.

“Dammit… Fuck… COME ON!”

The light flickered to life as if almost on command. She used the small bulb to examine the cargo. The box was tattered and splintered but still whole. The clasp on the front was broken, gone and lost to the darkness of the night and the storm.

With careful hands, Ilona opened the box to check the contents. A segmented jewel glimmered back at her in the focused light. It sat framed by snakes and demon’s wings cast in light colored metal. The jewel itself looked shattered but as if someone had tried to make it whole again with some metal filament. Ilona picked it up and turned it around in her hands. She breathed a sigh of relief as she didn’t find any damage to the item itself. It seemed like some gaudy piece of antique jewelry. Probably for some eccentric collector. At least it wasn’t drugs…

She noticed the blood on her hand. Her hand had sustained a nasty scrape on the pavement. She’d have to make sure to clean that well when she got home. Along with all the other bits of road rash. She wasn’t going to hear the end of it from Everett tomorrow.

A distant flash followed immediately by a crack of thunder caught her attention. She quickly put the jewel back in the box and reoriented her bike. It wasn’t a pleasant ride to the drop off point. But she was determined to make it.

Later

Large hands held the box firmly as their owner walked down the darkened hallway. Sporadic flashes of lightning lit the path before the man. Shadows clung to the opulent trappings. Paintings, bright and beautiful in the light hung with dreary shades. The pale marble of a few small sculptures seems to almost glow with the lightning, the mottled shadows from the rain molding the features to something stark and alarming.

His footsteps, steady and purposeful, were muted against the ornate rug that lined the hall. What little sound his large frame managed to make was drowned out by the rolling thunder and rain battering the windows. Fine black leather shoes stopped at a door. A hand, complimented by a shining gold watch, reached forth and turned the knob.

The room within was just as dark as the hallway. A few moments and a desk lamp was clicked on. Golden light illuminated a desk covered in books of various sizes and titles while reaching weakly to the corners of the room. Shelves holding still more books peered from the shadows. The light was just bright enough to show off the embossed titles and ornate typing. Curious objects sat among the tomes. A decorated plate showing a battle from a long ago time. An animal skull of unknown origin. Trinkets tied with feathers and teeth, all dangling and rattling from their perches.

The man sighed as he held the box under the light of the desk lamp. It was damaged badly. The looping and winding carvings were scuffed and splintered. The edges frayed with bits of wood poking out precariously. The clasp that once held it closed was completely gone.

“This thing is in some state… What the hell happened?”

Papers and notepads that had sat on the desk were pushed aside to make room for the box. Though he was alone, a second voice was present. It sounded as if it had floated in from the ether. It sounded raspy, like blackened smoke.

“The pretty box isn’t important. What’s inside is still good, yeah?”

The man sat down in the padded chair and began to contemplate the parcel. The box was opened carefully with both hands. The hinges creaked loudly in protest, threatening to come undone in the man’s grasp. Inside, a brooch shined back at him. It was nestled carefully within the velvet interior. It looked tiny as he picked it up. Eyes the color of steel peered down at the purple jewel marbled with silver. His fingers ran delicately over the snakes and wings that framed it.

“It looks good. Not a scratch.”

“Great! Let’s get to it then! You know what to do?”

The man was already leaning down and searching through the drawers of the desk. After a few moments of rummaging, a small dagger was produced. It joined the box on the desk as the man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

“Yeah, yeah… Still a bitch though. Why does it always have to be a blood bond? The last three artifacts were duds. I’m tired of slicing myself for this shit.”

The voice chuckled, a series crackling hisses.

“Ah, but I have a good feeling about this one, Joseph, Old boy. With this bit of sparkle, you’ll be nigh unstoppable. Now c’mon! Get on with the show!”

The dagger was retrieved with a sigh. With grit teeth, the blade was pressed into the man's thumb. Blood oozed forth around the metal. The dagger was discarded to the side and the bloody thumb was pressed firmly against the jewel. A thick red splotch was left behind as the man withdrew his hand.

Moments passed by in silence. The rain and the thunder little more than a far off distraction.

“Shit.”

The man grabbed the handkerchief and wrapped his thumb. The voice growled. “No! What the fuck!?”

“Another goddamn dud!… SHIT!”

A heavy foot stomped against the floor causing the desk to shake. The voice continued to protest.

“That can’t be right!”

“The hell you mean ‘that can’t be right’? You saw as well as I did that nothing fucking happened!” “BULLSHIT! Check the brooch!” “I did check the brooch!” “I can feel it! There’s no way in the nine rings that thing is fake! Check it again, dipshit!”

The man pulled a book closer to himself roughly and flipped to a page. It showed an illustration of the brooch, drawn in exquisite detail and additional notes scrawled to the side. The brooch was turned carefully in the light, each feature compared thoroughly with it’s written and drawn counterparts. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of a drop of blood dried onto the metal on the back of the brooch.

“It’s already bonded!?”

His fist wrapped around the brooch and tightened. His steel colored eyes began to melt into the color of red slag.

“Did they think I wouldn’t notice!? Do they really think they can get one over on me!? Nobody is going to have more power than me! I’m Joseph Cross Dammit! I run this city!”

His fist raised into the air then began to descend quickly toward the mahogany surface of the desk with the brooch still firmly in it’s grasp. The voice bellowed out.

“WAIT!”

The man’s fist stopped immediately at the sound of the voice’s protest. It hovered over the surface a mere fraction of an inch. The man’s face was drawn back in a snarl as he huffed through grit teeth.

“For fuck’s sake… WHAT NOW!?”

The voice lightened to almost a purr.

“Easy, Joseph. Think before you break. Yeah, you could smash that thing real good. That would take the power away from whoever is bonded to it, but it would also take the power away from you. Let’s just track down the asshole with a tracking spell and off’em. Reset the brooch’s magic and have a little fun at the same time.”

Joseph’s arm relaxed slowly. He nodded in agreement.

“Yeah… Yeah! That’s a much better idea.”

He stood and sorted through the papers that were pushed aside before. One with symbols and strange writing was grabbed. Joseph held the brooch in one hand and looked at the paper. Red smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke in a tongue not of human origin. It floated to the brooch and swirled around it a moment before dissipating. The chanting stopped and the brooch was placed back onto the desk with the paper.

“I got a trail. Let’s go say hello.”

A dark swirling portal appeared behind Joseph as he retrieved his hat from the coat rack. He adjusted his tie and stepped through. The portal disappeared as if made of mist.

Joseph found himself bumping his knee into a shoddy card table. It clattered and squeaked lightly against tile flooring. Glowing red eyes scanned his surroundings. It was a small pillbox of an apartment. He assumed he stood in what was supposed to be the kitchen, though it was all just one room. The card table he bumped into had an opened first aid kit on it. It’s contents were strewn about. A tiny fridge sat against a wall with various magnets and a calendar marked up with various colors of ink. A picture of three people smiling hung from a magnet in the shape of a smiley face.

Joseph stepped carefully toward a window. He could see what looked like a fold out bed. A shirt was hung up on the door handle of a closet. It was torn with dark stains. A flash of lightning revealed a figure curled up in the bed. Even in the dark, Joseph could see ribbons of dark energy wafting from them.

He leaned down and examined the figure closer. It was a girl, clad only in a thin baby doll night gown. Her pale skin was barely hidden by a raggedy blanket that she had most likely shrugged off in her sleep. A pitiful whimper left her as Joseph's hand touched her shoulder lightly. Poorly tied bandages and badly placed gauze covered her arm and hand. The voice whispered harshly at Joseph.

“What’s the hold up!?”

Joseph gently ran a finger over forehead, brushing the hair from her face.

“I can’t kill this one.” “What!? Why the hell not!?”

“She’s one of our best delivery drivers.”

SO!? You have other delivery drivers!” “Not like her! She’s the one that takes the hard to sell deliveries. The ones no one else will take. Besides, what kind of boss kills one of their best employees!? It wouldn’t be fair…”

Another whimper escaped the girl. Her body shivered as the wisps became thicker.

“Fine, but you better do something quick! This girl is about to go through a very rough transition and it’s not going to be quiet! The whole town is going to hear this broad’s screams in a few minutes!”

Joseph looked around for a few moments. There wasn’t much he could do. The blanket was wrapped around the girl as he scooped her up and carried her back through the portal.

It was not a good night.

Joseph had barely gotten Ilona settled onto a guest room bed before it all started. Skin previously cold to the touch now burned fiercely. Joseph did what he could but he knew there was no making it easier. All he could offer was kind words and a cool towel on her forehead as she screamed.

Screams of pain, or terror, of something he could not identify altogether as her mouth bubbled with blood and teeth that had fallen out. Teeth fitting for a wild animal quickly grew in their place. Her eyes had blackened and garbled shrieks of blindness and confusion accompanied them. Her nightgown did little to hide the undulating of her flesh as muscles rearranged themselves. The squelch and cracking of bones breaking and reforming could just barely be heard over her suffering. Black fur pushed it’s way out her skin. Two horns did the same on the top of her head, covered in ripped skin and viscera. The skin around her fingers and feet darkened and the appendages warped into different much larger shapes. Claws sprouted from the tips of her new fingers and toes.

Through it all, she begged. Her sightless eyes stared at Joseph as she begged him for comfort, for death, for it to all end. He held her hand and cooed to her.

“You’re doing great… It’ll be over soon…”

He wasn’t sure if his words had actually reached her. Eventually her screaming began to quiet and her body went limp. Her eyes drifted closed as exhaustion finally claimed her. Joseph placed a blanket over her. She looked so peaceful as he ran his hand over the fur on her cheek.

“In the morning… You’ll be mine.”

#wardenwrites #Shadowed Cross AU #Joseph Cross #Brawlhalla #Oc Ilona

6 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 9 days

Text

So true it hurts...

writing fics be like

#wardenspeaks #Been howling about writing to friends on discord #Writing is hard

56K notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 9 days

Text

Covers courtesy of @katebluebird

The matte cardstock took a bit of the luster away from the art but they still turned out amazing. They've already sent me two more pieces that I plan on making into notebooks.

Kate keeps saying it's just something simple she threw together. Everyone go tell her how fucking amazing they are!

I did these with a singular hole punch. My hand is going to be so strong after making these notebooks lol

#wardenspeaks #notebook prototypes #katebluebird #I cant wait to get a decent print setup so i can see these in their full glory

4 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 11 days

Text

I'm going to put my blinders on and work on stuff for like a week. I might start a sale on commissions soon. I need money stat. Also dealing with little brat drama has tired me out. if you see bumblevscitrus report the absolute snot out of them and block them. This goes for any other brat trying to start something. Don't vote on any of their polls. If you feel the need to message them, remain civil and polite. No threats, no insults. Just say your peace, report, block, move on. Other than that... Shadowed Cross Chapter 1 this Monday. Still working on notebooks. Trying to find suitable cover material is proving difficult. There was a time I couldn't find regular matte cardstock for all the glossy stuff. Now I can't find any gloss at all. I'm planning on saving up for a laser printer so I can get the good thicc stuff and actually use it.

Probably do another run with the stickers once I have the printer to see if I can improve quality on them.

Also possible submas stickers in the works.

AH and mind your tags! The stories I'm dropping may deal with some stuff that some might not find appealing. Make sure to have the things you don't want to see tagged and blocked and I will do my utmost best to tag appropriately on my end. Please throw me a message if I didn't tag something.

That's all I think. Have a great day everyone!

#wardenspeaks

5 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 12 days

Text

Since Warden is a W name, I figure that she would go well in the Don't starve universe. I don't really have many details on how she got there or what she can do. Maybe I'll flesh that out later.

#wardendraws #Don't Starve #Oc Warden

12 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 12 days

Note

SPOTTED BATS MY BELOVEEEEED I used them in my Gliscor regional evo as the initial inspo years ago and I've loved them ever since.

Big eared babies my beloved 🥺💖 happy bat appreciation day

Happy bat appreciation day! These are my guys here: Honduran White bats (photo courtesy of livescience.com)

They are tiny little angels that roost together in leaf tents that they make by biting at the inner veins of large leaves, causing it to fold down and create a tent of sorts. They are usually around 9 grams in weight and specialize in eating figs from a species of tree known as ficus colubrinae. They are listed as near threatened as areas where this tree grows are being destroyed by human encroachment. Sentient Cotton balls.

#wardenspeaks #Bat #Honduran White Bat #Bat Appreciation Day

3 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 12 days

Note

I do not know the different names of bat species very well. But I love those with bigass ears. I remember looking those up when I was assigned to make Noibat art for a project years ago when I was still active on DeviantArt

Bat ears are fascinating. They can get downright alien looking depending on how specialized they are.

This guy holds the record for the biggest bat ears, at least in the Americas. The spotted bat. These guys are found in the western united states and areas of British Columbia. (photo courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History) More unusual ears include these guys:

The Ozark big eared bat (Photo Courtesy of National Geographic)

These guys are a species of cave bat. Unfortunately they are endangered due to many causes including habitat loss. The temperature in the caves they once inhabited varied too greatly for them to remain due to human encroachment. And the Allens big eared bat (photo courtesy of the Nevada Department of Wildlife)

These guys are found in the mountainous regions of the southwestern US and Mexico. They're insectivores that are specialized in swooping in and plucking stationary insects from their perch spots. Not only do their ears help in hearing, they also make them more maneuverable in the air to accomplish this feat.

And this has been your daily dose of bat facts lol.

#wardenspeaks #Bats #Bat facts #bat appreciation day

9 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 13 days

Text

IT'S BAT APPRECIATION DAY!!!

I love bats. Honduran White Bats are my favorite. What's yours?

That is all.

#wardenspeaks #BATS

5 notes · View notes

wardenswateringhole · 15 days

Text

Reclamation - Prologue

CW - none Cut for length. Enjoy.

Hisui.

A land of extreme beauty and extreme harshness. A fickle mistress that provided and deprived at a whim. Those that did not respect her ways would find themselves in dire straits. Or worse.

This place, as harsh as it was, was still home to many people. Some had been born on this island and knew no other land. Others came from across the ocean and settled in hopes of finding a new life and learning of all Hisui had to offer.

Some had been forced to traverse time and space to settle here.

Warden Ingo sighed as a gentle breeze blew over the Coronet Highlands. The mountains usually carried a harsh chill from the frigid air drifting down from the peak. The seasonal shift between Spring and Summer offered a brief respite from this. It was one of the very few times that Ingo could shed his coat and bask in the sunshine. The leaves rustled a soft melody and the grass felt soft beneath him as he laid on the ground, his hat and coat folded and stacked neatly by his side. His eyes drifted closed and he began to let himself sink into the currents of dreams.

It had been a few years from his estimate. He couldn't be sure. The beginning was a blur as he struggled to adjust to this new location. He owed his life to the Pearl Clan. They did not have to take him in when they did. He was a stranger with strange clothes, a strange accent, and strange mannerisms. They could have very well cast him out into the cold. However Ingo found himself being treated as one of their own and eventually had the honor of becoming a warden to one of the noble pokémon It was a grand task that very few ever had the privilege of undertaking. These pokémon were sacred to the clans and deserved the greatest of respect.

When the Galaxy Expedition Team showed up, he once again found himself being valued for his skills. Commander Kamado wasted no time in recruiting him to train his people to use and interact with pokémon Irida allowed it on the condition that it did not interfere with his duties as Warden. He took up a role that felt all to familiar to him as he battled and coached the inexperienced recruits.

All in all, Ingo felt content. While the memories he lost still scratched at the edges of his awareness, he could not say his life was poor. He had a home, loved ones, and a general purpose. One could dream for more, but he felt little need to.

For now, Sneasler had been far more successful in her hunts and needed little to no aid in caring for her kits. The dojo saw fewer challengers due to the between season clean up and the preparations for the rainy season that usually rolled in with the summer heat. Ingo was not needed. Work would undoubtedly pile up on him later but for now it was a time for relaxation.

The sound of footsteps approaching yanked Ingo from his sleep. The wilds had conditioned him to react in such a way to such sounds. One could never know if a pokémon saw them as a potential meal or a bandit saw them as a potential target. It was a fool's game to assume one was ever completely safe. A game that Ingo had played many times. Thankfully only his clothing had paid the heavier price while he got away with few injuries. His own scars and the tattered tail of his coat were a constant reminder of harsher days.

Ingo scrambled upright to see Irida walking toward him. He was quick to rise to his feet and place his cap back atop his head. She was young but Ingo looked at Irida as his savior. She had made the decision to take him in. He knew there were nay-sayers that had pressured her to turn him away. He would forever be grateful to her for not listening to them and allowing him a chance to prove his worth. She was the leader of the Pearl Clan. His clan.

His home.

“Lady Irida! To what do I owe this visit?” Ingo called out to her. His eyes focused in the bright sunshine enough to realize that Irida's expression seemed uncertain. Somber even. Her steps were heavy as they carried her up the hill to his location.

“Lady Irida?” Ingo felt a tightness in his chest as Irida stopped just before him. Irida was not one to keep her gaze down. Her head was always held high with a look of steely determination. What had happened? Was someone hurt? Was someone dead? These were not rare occurrences but they were still heart wrenching all the same. Tragedy was not something one could get used to. Even in a land where it was all too common.

Irida was silent for a moment. Her eyes seemed resistant to meet Ingo's. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to conjure the words she needed to say. The wind picked up. The rustling of leaves grew louder. The cacophony pulled Irida's quiet words to the wind but Ingo could hear what Irida said loud and clear.

He could not believe it. His eyes widened. He felt as if his chest would explode from how hard his heart started to pound. It took everything he had in him to keep himself upright as the world threatened to spin around him.

“W-What!?”

#wardenwrites #Warden Ingo #PLA #pokemon legends arceus #Ingo #Irida

8 notes · View notes