You Guys Get ONE Animated Wip For The Laikas Comet AMV I’m Working On ‼️‼️ It’s With The

Traditional hand-drawn animation my beloved

I love the warmth of the pencil

Idk why quality is so bad 😔

Lively chatter and the swell of festive music warmed the cold air. The protagonist had settled into a rhythm passing out food in the soup kitchen, greeting their guests with a smile, when they locked eyes with a certain unexpected visitor.

"T-this isn't what it looks like," their rival stammered.

The protagonist stared back, because how could they not. "I thought your parents were rich," they blurted.

"T-they... They are," they said, face burning red.

"Then why are you here?"

Back it up back it up BACK IT UP

Google drive, Dropbox, email it to yourself, I don't care how you do it. If it would hurt you to lose it, create a copy. Create SEVERAL copies.

((TL;DR: I lost my data multiple times so please don't trust one app))

For years I was using a writing app called Write. The developer stopped supporting the app. I noticed it wasn't backing up and tried to put in my credentials. That froze and crashed the app, and I lost everything. I worked so hard to try to get it back, but I was only able to recover partial sentences. I still don't understand how the local version could become corrupted just because it was backing up. I regret not copying and pasting that stuff elsewhere so I wouldn't have lost QUITE SO MUCH.

What's more, the reason I moved to Write in the first place was because files on the Notes app disappeared and couldn't be recovered. And no, they weren't some epic sagas lost to time or anything, just little stories I liked to occasionally work on. It brought me joy. It was so hard to get myself to write again knowing how quickly I could just lose 5+ years of content in a flash.

So please.

BACK. IT. UP.

Also while we're here don't forget to hydrate.

pleased to inform everyone that onedrive stopped syncing 6 months ago without telling me and in the luckiest moment of my life so far i discovered this because i had some time to kill in a scaremaze queue and tried to look at the chapter i was drafting on my phone rather than the usual way anyone discovers these things

Look, writer’s block is not some giant, mysterious monster. It’s you, in your head, holding yourself back because you’re afraid what you’re writing sucks. And here’s the truth, yeah, maybe it does suck. But you know what? That’s okay. Writing something bad is still better than writing nothing at all. You don’t wait for inspiration to strike, you show up, write the garbage draft, and then fix it later. Writing isn’t about perfection, it’s about getting it done. Even if it’s one crappy page at a time.

The villain found the hero stocking cans in Big Box Store.

"Is this why I haven't seen you lately?" The villain asked disappointingly.

"Heroism doesn't pay," the hero said. "My folks want me doing something more practical with my time."

The villain leaned on a shelf. "They do if you work for the Agency."

The hero grunted and plopped a particularly enormous box down. "The Agency rejected me multiple times. I have to- ugh -earn money somehow." They sliced the box open violently. "Besides, you think those hospital visits were cheap?! Move over. You're blocking the shelf."

"Wow, someone's a little grumpy," the villain said. They shifted to block the shelves even more.

The hero slammed down a can. "I told you to MOVE OVER--"

"Hero!" Someone barked.

Hero froze. The manager.

"I am deeply sorry for their behavior," the manager hurriedly said to the villain. "Hero, you do not under any circumstances raise your voice at one of our guests. That is not Big Box Store behavior. Apologize this instant or consider this your dismissal."

"Sorry," the hero mumbled.

The manager glared expectantly.

"I'm very sorry," the hero tried again. "I should not have raised my voice. It was not a reflection of Big Box Store values, and it will not happen again."

The manager gave a satisfied nod and left.

"... You think I can get them to make you kiss my shoes?" the villain snorted.

The hero launched at them.

By the time the fight was over, half the canned foods aisle was in shambles. Needless to say, the villain had their nemesis back the next day.

However, the hero started receiving a generous stipend from an anonymous benefactor, making the job search a bit less urgent...

Villain could feel her mind go blank. God, she really said that out loud.

Hero was close, much too close, and her strong arms gripped her shoulders so, so tightly. She smelled a little like strawberries and musk, and her hair tickled her face a little. No one had ever gotten this close before. Villain twisted her wrists in the cuffs behind her back and tried to ignore the warm feeling in her gut.

"I… Um…" Villain tried, flustered. Her eyes flicked to Hero's lips. They looked soft.

Hero cleared her throat and put an arm's length between them. "Nice try, but you're still going to prison."

Villain's stomach did little somersaults. "You're, uh, going to take me there yourself?"

Hero blinked and seemed to avoid her eyes. "Well, um. Yes."

"And, um, keep a close eye on me?"

Hero flicked a glance at her and grabbed a walkie-talkie with one hand. "Hey, Superhero," Hero squeaked, voice cracking, "When's your ETA?"

Villain could see a little pink in her ears.

Static. Hero muttered a curse. Superhero always took his time answering.

Villain knew she should take the opportunity to try to run. Hero only had one hand on her shoulder. One warm, strong hand.

She pulled her shoulder back and barreled into the Hero. Hero, caught off guard, dropped the walkie-talkie and fell back. Villain made a run for it, jumping off the rooftop onto a fire escape.

"Hey! No, get back here!" Hero roared. She leapt onto the fire escape below Villain, cutting off where she was headed. Villain jumped off the fire escape to the ground, and Hero launched after her.

The full impact hit Villain square in the back, and the resulting fall knocked the wind out of her. Hero straddled her from the back and roughly grabbed her arms.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're cute," Hero grunted.

Villain's heart fluttered. She turned her head as much as she was able. "You think I'm cute?"

Hero reached for her walkie-talkie and came up empty.

"It's on the rooftop," Villain helpfully reminded her. "Does he normally take this long to respond?"

Hero seemed conflicted in whether to answer. "…Yeah," She conceded.

"With just you, or--"

"I really, really don't want to talk about it," Hero sighed tiredly. "Just… Please."

Villain hummed. "You deserve better," She said.

"So do your victims," Hero said, voice hard.

Villain opened her mouth. Shut it. "This seems personal," she said.

"It is," Hero said. "Superhero saved me from Villains like you. So now, I work for him and pay it forward."

"Funny," Villain said, voice lowering an octave. "Superhero is the reason I'm like this."

Hero was going to ask what she meant, but Superhero came flying from above. A short while later, a prisoner transfer vehicle arrived.

"Thanks for your help as always, Hero," Superhero said. He flashed a wide, toothy grin for the paparazzi as he secured Villain into the back of the vehicle.

"I have something important to take care of, so I'll see you back at the base, Sport," Superhero said, patting Hero's back. Hero slid into the passenger's seat quietly, knuckles white. She watched him laughing with the press as the car rolled away.

"Wow, he can't even help escort me back?" Villain said, smile sardonic. "Also, what was that just now? Is he stealing the credit from you?"

"I don't want the attention," Hero said. She looked down. "Justice is its own reward."

Villain snorted. "Oh, honey... You keep telling yourself that."

The driver flicked his eyes towards the backseat, and pushed a button to lock the car doors.

"Just ignore her," Hero said to the driver, flashing a smile. "Have we met? You don't look familiar."

"He didn't get in the car," The driver gruffed.

Villain sighed. "I know, I know, but proceed with the plan anyways."

"Yes, boss," said the driver.

Hero whirled around. "Hey, wait, what plan--"

There was a sudden sting in her arm as the driver injected her with an unknown substance.

"What th--" Hero ripped the tranquilizer from her arm and tried to grab the wheel.

The car veered and the driver wrenched her arm back. She elbowed him in the eye and grappled for the wheel. He pulled out a gun and aimed it at her.

"Hey, now," Villain said, reaching her arms through the bars. "I like her, so be gentle."

"Yes, boss," The driver said. He kept the gun ready, and glowered at Hero with his good eye. They were speeding down a gravel path. Hero tried the door but her hands felt weak.

"Child lock," Villain said.

Hero bit her tongue to stave off the unnatural woozy feeling in her head. "You'll... Be... S-sorry," she said.

"Don't worry, shh, I'll take care of you," Villain shushed, petting her hair gently. "I just can't let you interfere with my plans. Okay? Okay? Sleep."

Hero's eyes went heavy. She leaned into the soothing hand despite herself. Her vision went black.

Prompt (440)

The hero clicked the handcuffs over the villain’s wrists. “You’re done terrorizing the city. Any last words?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” the villain said.

The hero turned the villain around. “What?”

"Do I even have a purpose?"

"You're the reason I'm tolerating this world at all."

The squall pushed them straight into the rocks, which tore clean through the starboard side. The hull was damaged beyond repair. Gwen screwed her eyes shut. She knew she shouldn't have let Harvey goad her into trying to prove herself. She knew she wasn't ready to be captain. She knew she wasn't enough. She just wanted so badly to be taken seriously. And now they were all going to die for her pride. This was her fault. This was all her fault.

"Snap out of it, Captain!" one of the crewmen cried. "We need to evacuate!"

Gwen shook, heaving, with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She stared ahead, wide-eyed and shellshocked.

"Leave the wretch! She'll take us down with her!"

"I knew we shouldn't've trusted her!"

Gwen snapped out of her trance. She had a job to do. "You lot! Move the cargo port side! You two! Hold the life boats! I repeat, hold the life boats! The current is too strong and we'll be dashed on the rocks! Wait until my signal!"

Her arms shook, fighting the pull of the wheel. She had trained for this. She had trained so long for this.

The ship was losing the battle against the punishing wind, pulling them toward a rocky alcove. Gwen knew what she had to do, but it would take them wildly off-course.

"Brace yourselves!" Gwen screamed.

She began to turn the ship.

"Captain, what are you doing!" one of the crewman cried.

"We must change course or be drawn further into the rocks!" Gwen yelled over the howling wind. "This will draw us to safer waters!"

"Are you insane! We need to go towards land!" Joshua cried.

"We won't make it to land in these waters!" Gwen screamed.

The ship groaned and pitched. The crew clung helplessly onto the bough and rails. Foaming waves crashed over the deck. In harrowing minutes that felt like hours, they were tossed about in the squall. Finally, mercifully, the ship calmed. The worse had past. The water was rising still, and they were running out of time.

"Drop anchor! Deploy the life boats!" Gwen said. "Begin evacuation!"

"Cap'n, it's customary for women and children to--" Joshua began, reaching for the wheel, and Gwen turned on him with a wild fury.

"I am the CAPTAIN, and I WILL be the last to leave," Gwen snapped.

"Captain--" Joshua protested.

"You are in charge of ushering our passengers onto the life boats," Gwen said, a little softer. "There is a trade route a few clicks off. Someone will see us and come to our aid. You are the only one I can trust with this task."

Joshua set his jaw. Nodded.

"You lot! Keep calm!" he shouted. "In an orderly fashion, make your way onto the life boats! I repeat, in an orderly fashion! This will all be over soon! Help is on the way!"

The first life boat was filled, then deployed.

And then, the second.

The first one, slowly, began sinking. One of the children jumped, taking the risk of swimming for it, and found the water too choppy.

"Captain, the life boat is sinking!"

"Man overboard! Throw the life preserver!" They tossed the life preserver and the child grabbed on. The first boat paddled closer and pulled the child to safety.

"Lower the third life boat!" The passengers from the sinking boat clamored to the other two.

The water was rising. "Lose the cargo!"

The cargo fell into the water, buying them time.

They deployed the fourth life boat. The ship was sinking faster. The crew cut loose the final life boat and abandoned protocol. The life boats barely stayed above water, filled well past their intended capacity. The crew unable to fit clung to floating barrels and planks.

"Captain-!" one of the crew cried. Gwen tried to swim for it, but the current pulled her under. Water surged into her lungs. She kicked and clawed, fighting for survival, and losing. Down, down, the ship sank, and Gwen with it. Her limbs were heavy, and her vision grew dark.

Gwen awoke to a burning sensation in her lungs. She gasped in a breath, but felt a lazy, liquid pull, not air. She questioned whether she was dead. Judging from the pain in her lungs and limbs, she didn't think so. Something smooth brushed her cheek. Her eyes snapped open.

"Oh good, you're not dead," a woman said, leaning over her, holding her cheek. Her voice sounded strange and melodic. The lighting too low to see her properly.

Gwen shook her head. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a high whistle.

The woman tilted her head.

Gwen tapped her throat.

"You're breathing because I made you breathe," the woman explained. "Using a little bit of magic I concocted. It seems you're still adjusting."

Gwen tried to speak again, but choked, little bubbles forming around her. She tried to shift away, but something constrained her.

"Where do you think you're going?" The woman tutted. "You're still recovering, and you are many, many leagues deep below the surface. Most don't survive the journey."

Gwen's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. The woman's silhouette was strange, as if her torso were a writhing mass of... something.

"I'll take good care of you," the woman said. "I've always wanted a human for a pet."

You are the captain of a sinking ship. As you feel that the sinking is your fault you decide to go down with the ship instead of evacuating. It is only when your ship hits the bottom of the ocean and you are still alive that you notice that something is off.

You jokingly called it your little Trash Shrine.

Suspended from the window hung little earrings you'd picked up from the ground over the years.

On the sill, glass jars held marbles, seashells, buttons. A planter grew dandelions, henbit, and white clover. A little vase of blue jay, cardinal, and raven feathers. A decoupage box filled with magazine clippings and pressed flowers.

You were just adding to your little cushion full of yarn bits when you hear skittering on the kitchen floor. Something tugs at your pants leg and you flinch back. A raccoon stares up at you with unnaturally glowing eyes.

The little raccoon chatters and skitters up to the countertop. It promptly sits on top of the cushion you were just stuffing yarn bits into.

"Thank you, human," a voice says in your head.

You jolt. "Y-you're welcome?"

"I truly thought I was all but forgotten," the voice says. "Not many of your kind pay homage to the God of Discarded Treasures."

"Oh, well, I didn't know I was," you say honestly. "I mean, I would have if I did know. You seem like a cool God."

"I am the rain reclaimed from refuse," the voice says. "The rainbows left by gasoline spills. The flavor of raspberries left by castoreum--"

"I'm going to stop you there," you say. "I mean, I can't be the only person who likes to creatively use trash. What did I do differently?"

Silence.

The raccoon turnes and analyzes the shrine, and skitters over to the decoupage box. They nudge the lid off with their nose, and dumps out the little clippings that lay inside.

"It seems you invoked me accidentally," the voice concedes. "The clippings you have in this box just so happen to perfectly match the words to summon me, if left in the right order." It laid out the passage letter by letter.

"Deus Quisquiliae, exaudi orationem meam, benedic mihi thesauris abiectis."

"Well, no wonder no one summons you," you sigh, sipping your tea. "Most people don't speak Latin these days. Maybe some linguists, Catholics, or doctors. God of... I don't know that word. Hear my praises? Exaudi like, exhalted? Benedict Cumberbatch something me something something."

"There are others that would work. Discarded languages. Discarded treasures. The prayer asks that I bless you with the items that deserve a second life."

You took a picture of the Latin phrase in your phone. "Well, I could make this a daily thing. Do you show up every time?"

"Not in ways you might see, but yes."

"Well, okay. Thanks."

In the following days, you find money in the parking lot. A barista offers you a scone they couldn't sell. The persimmon trees drop their fruit as you come near. You find a discarded chair after yours falls apart. You slip down a hill and find a bed of natural clay that you form into shapes and bake in the hot sun.

Perhaps it's not what everyone would consider a blessing.

Some may even think of it as a curse.

Nevertheless, you set aside a little time each day to thank the little Trash God for their bounty.

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

CW: Violence

Beware, friend

story by @yeehawpim and illustrated by @rvicta