Summary: In the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the characters of the Tin Woodman and Scarecrow are two unique men who cannot sleep, and are therefore left alone when the others in their group do.
Ever wonder what they might have talked about during those long nights?
or: Nick Chopper has lost everything: his body, his heart, and his life. When he joins a strange band of characters headed for the Emerald City, he manages to gain a friend.
pspspsps any Tin Woodman fans want some food?
i’ve got four chapters done so far, i’ll post updates as i finish more. honestly very excited about this, it’s been a ton of fun to write.
What are you majoring in? You talked about being in school for a bit, and I got very curious
majoring in Animation, minoring in Native American studies! i’m aiming more for pre-production than animation though, i enjoy storyboarding and character design wayyy more than keyframing.
THE THREE-PART CIRCUS CHAPTER (14-16) IS FINALLY DONE. that means i can do a double-update with chapters 12 and 13!!
i usually try to do some kind of chapter cover, which i’ve managed for the last two uploads, and this time won’t be any different. i had an idea that got some good feedback in BWK’s woz server, so i thought i’d run it by you guys here since this is where i’d host it!
how would you feel about me doing the chapter cover as a dtiys? Draw This In Your Style challenge for those unfamiliar. i draw the chapter cover, and then anyone that wants to participate redraws it in their style however they want to! i would reblog any submissions here as well as feature them in the chapter they’re for on ao3.
lmk what you think!! for now, i will be proofreading the heck out of the double update and sketching out some concepts.
first i get sucked back into the Transformers hyperfixation in the middle of writing, and NOW i’m cooking up an entire fic plot for Spider Noir!! brain let me FINISH THIS CHAPTER PLEEEASE-
i had to move the chapter into a separate doc because the whole of Alexithymia is lagging Ellipsus so badly i can’t write. i just pasted what i’ve written recently back into the original doc…
stares at how close i am to the end of chapter 15. stares at the fact i leave for somewhere this Sunday and will have very limited access for writing until the week after.
i need to speedrun the end of this chapter or i will explode
took me two weeks but i finally have the energy to write again. of course i got hit with the Tired Beam the second i acknowledged i was almost done with the chapter :’D
SLEXIT T. BIM!!! the inchworm of all time, official father figure of the campaign and a literally life-size photorealistic inchworm who also happens to be a bronze medalist in mixed martial arts wrestling with a 40ft movement speed per round.
it has been a while. maybe a lil preview of the next chapter is in order :]
(spoilers for Alexithymia chapter 12 if you want to wait to read it!)
The sun was setting in a yellow sky when Nick heard something that was not the wind. Something that crunched on the rocks like many footsteps and muttered like many voices. And then, a cry.
Nick believed he had finally gone mad, or slipped into a dream, because in a moment there came running up the young Dorothy. She fell to her knees beside Nick and said something that slipped through Nick’s ears and into the dust without him truly hearing it. Then there were others, all dressed in yellow, and even the Lion was among them. They were all talking and looking between themselves, Dorothy, and Nick. He tried to look back at them, but only his one good eye moved, and that was only slightly. Dorothy smiled, though it was a fragile and desperate sort of grin, and she said something to the others, who moved in close around Nick and began to lift him carefully out of the dust.
Even if it was a dream, Nick grew suddenly worried that they would label him scrap metal and melt him down. Dorothy wouldn’t let that happen, would she? Although, Nick wasn’t good for anything anymore, not even chopping wood. Perhaps it would be for the best if he was recycled.
The others, the yellow ones- the Winkies, Nick remembered- were holding him awfully gently as they carried him, more gently than he would have expected anyone to treat a scrap heap.
Dorothy’s eyes were red as if she had been crying for a long time. She looked tired. So did the Lion. If they were here, that meant the Wicked Witch had to be dead and they were free. They had set out to kill her, but Nick didn’t know how to feel about the idea that it’d been done.
The rocks marched past him, or rather, he was marched past the rocks. Their whistling sounded like the melancholy farewell of old friends bidding him away to the grave. Risen above the dust, perhaps it was the opposite, and they wished for him to return to his place in the ground and be buried with them.
Nick watched the sky turn orange, then red, then purple, and then a great castle came into his view. He was brought inside and then to a big yellow room and then sat down on a bench against the wall. His legs were too twisted up for him to rest comfortably, and the terrible dent in his torso left him hunched over himself. His head had been positioned so that he was facing straight into the room and he could see all the people in it and what they were doing.
There were a lot of Winkies, all in different sorts of clothes but none as richly dressed as the citizens of the Emerald City. A number of Pigeons sat on their shoulders and on perches. Dorothy was talking to them all, pleading it seemed. Nick tried to hear what she was saying and managed to understand the word ‘tin’. Some of the Winkies said something back, and then they left. Then Dorothy and the Lion came up to Nick again, and Dorothy was speaking to him and crying, and the Lion was crying, and then someone put a hand on Dorothy’s shoulder and she went away. The other people went away, too. The Lion stayed. He laid down at Nick’s feet and remained there for a long time.
It really was like a dream, with hazy edges and all the sounds strange and far away. Dreaming would be a mercy Nick had not yet been afforded, and he wished it were true. He wouldn’t mind so much being buried alone in the desert if he at least could dream he was with his friends. If only the Scarecrow were here, too.
