#Had this idea for a long time but finally got the chance to draw concept for it

[narson03]

What if Off the Hook crossed over with WALL-E?

[plaguewormart]

Delicious Benitez whump concept because I think you would appreciate it:

Vincent's spent most of his life eating a very simple largely vegetarian diet, because most of the places he's worked there wasn't a lot of money to go around, and there were always better uses for it than buying meat. He usually didn't eat meat except for special occasions.

Then after he moves to the Vatican, due to the sudden and drastic diet shift to but richer foods he becomes quite ill.

Ooooooh I love this!! I kinda changed it a little bit because I wanted to draw out the suffering,,, hope u enjoy!!

Vincent had expected a lot of hardships to come from his role as pope. He had been well aware of the scrutiny of the press that would analyze his every move and word, had been expecting working long hours and spending countless days in meetings with diplomats and members of the Curia. He had known that the papacy would make him unable to ever live a normal life again.

What Vincent hadn’t expected was the constant nausea. During the conclave, when tensions were running high and he often skipped meals in order to pray for guidance or walk alone in the gardens whenever he had a chance, he had felt weak and tired, but in comparison to his normal routine of working from sunrise to sunset, his lack of energy and slight nausea had been nothing to worry about.

During his first weeks as God’s representative on earth, Vincent had assumed the sickness came from the anxiety of suddenly being one of the most famous men alive, suddenly in charge of the entire Roman Catholic Church. Whenever he woke up with an aching stomach or ended up on his knees in front of the toilet, he thought the illness came from the grief of leaving his flock behind.

It wasn’t until a month and a half had passed, that anyone noticed how Vincent seemed somehow skinnier than the already borderline malnourished man that had appeared in the office of the Santa Martha. How the new Holy Father would seemingly have to force himself to swallow the food presented to him by the nuns, as if each bite was torture.

The nuns panicked, thinking that the Pope disliked the food they were cooking, Aldo kept inviting himself over to the Holy Father’s table at meals to watch him eat, and Thomas was fretting over the pope as if he were an overprotective mother.

Vincent never complained. Whenever the nuns would ask him his favorite foods he would, to their great dismay, wave them off with a comment of appreciating every meal they cooked. When Aldo would gently try to pry about his eating habits and weight loss, Vincent would tell him that he would make sure to take better care of himself. When Thomas practically begged Vincent to tell him what was wrong, Vincent would reassure him that it was simply the stress of the papacy getting to him, and that he would surely become better at handling it as time went by.

But time didn’t remove Vincent’s ailments. He would keep going through the days burdened by not only the papacy but also the pain that never seemed to leave him alone. He would pray for guidance and help, for forgiveness - just in case his pain was some kind of punishment. For a while he considered that God was finally striking him down for the sin of being born with a uterus.

Three months into Innocent XIV’s papacy, the pope was invited to share a meal with some of Rome’s homeless population. Vincent had loved the idea, finally getting to interact with and help people in need instead of trying to lecture world leaders on the importance of basic human decency.

The lunch was great. Vincent hadn’t been that happy since before the conclave began. He got to share a table with men, women, and children who told him of their lives and the things they’d experienced. He could comfort the hurting and feed the hungry. He’d even been able to almost ignore the pain that had become his constant companion.

Until, of course, it all went wrong. A short while after finishing the meal, Vincent felt the now all too familiar sensation of nausea, and knowing that there was no way to prevent the inevitable, he quickly excused himself from the table. Yet, this time something felt different. The nausea was accompanied by a strange itching in his throat, and the strange sense that he could not get enough air to enter his lungs.

He only made it a couple of steps away from the table before he realized something was very wrong. It felt as if his throat was closing, and every breath became more difficult than the next. He clawed on his cassock, trying to pull it away from his throat as if it were the white vestment that was suffocating him.

Vincent heard a voice yelling something, and he recognized it as one of the homeless men he had just been dining with, but his mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t understand what was being said. As he felt his body start to give up, his knees folding underneath him and his vision blurring, the last thing he felt was fingers on his neck and hands lifting his legs into the air.

-

Vincent awoke to the sound of beeping and the sterile scent of a hospital. His mouth was dry and instead of his normal white cassock, he had been dressed in a flimsy blue gown. Next to him, on a chair, was Thomas. The man looked exhausted, his skin a pale, almost gray color, and dark bags were present underneath his closed eyes.

Vincent watched silently as Thomas moved from bead to bead on the rosary, his lips twitching in silent prayer. He wondered for a moment whether Thomas had regained his ability to pray, because it didn’t seem as if the man had any issues right now.

When Thomas opened his eyes and saw Vincent looking back at him, he nearly fell off his chair in surprise. “Vincent! You’re awake!” Vincent smiled at the man’s excitement, “I wouldn’t have you hold another conclave so soon.” He joked, only to be met with a stern expression.

“Well you nearly did, Your Holiness.” The title was spoken as if it were an insult. “You didn’t think to mention to anyone that you’ve been feeling sick? We’ve all been trying to get you to open up to us, and you’ve been saying that you’re fine!” Thomas pauses his rant, grabbing Vincent’s hand as the anger seems to drain from his body.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Vincent. But you nearly died. If it weren’t for Mr. Bilal, you would be dead.” This shocked him, he knew something had been wrong for quite some time now, but to have been that close to death? In a situation so much safer than most of his work had ever been?

“What happened?” He asked.

“You had an extreme allergic reaction. Anaphylactic shock, they said. Mr. Bilal used to work as a doctor in Syria, and managed to recognize the symptoms fast enough that the ambulance arrived in time to give you epinephrine.”

Vincent was confused, “allergic reaction?” He asked. “I don’t have any allergies.” Thomas looked at him with raised eyebrows and an expression that showed how stupid he thought the comment was. “Right, sorry, I obviously do… but I didn’t know that!”

Thomas sighed before speaking, his tone that of a tired man trying to explain something to a child. “You wouldn’t have known, for a while. But once you came to the Vatican, it should’ve been quite obvious. And I know that it has been. We’ve all seen you lose weight, leave meetings to throw up or try to skip meals whenever you feel sick, unfortunately we all assumed it was because of the stress… because that’s what you told us.”

Vincent grimaced at the frustration in Thomas’ voice. But calmed when the other man grabbed his hand in his own, gently caressing it with his thumb.

“The doctors believe you have an allergy to…” he pauses to squint his eyes at a paper lying on Vincent’s bedside table. “Galactose-alpha-1,3-galactose protein.” Vincent levels him with a blank look, conveying that he has no idea what Thomas is talking about. “Apparently it means you’re allergic to red meat.”

Vincent once again blinks in confusion. “But I’ve had red meat lots of times?”

“Apparently, you can develop this allergy through a tick bite. You probably got bitten and didn’t even realize it. But God…” Thomas runs a hand over his face. “You must have been feeling so sick, for months!”

Vincent nods shamefully. As he thinks back to the previous months, it all seems so obvious, how he’d suddenly started eating a whole new type of diet, and how he would never leave food on his plate, not wanting the nuns to think he didn’t appreciate their food. How he’d been feeling nauseous constantly and throwing up more often than he’d ever done before. The pain that had become part of him. And the fact that hiding it all could’ve killed him.

After that day, Thomas makes Vincent promise to never ignore medical problems again, and to always tell someone if he was feeling sick. Vincent promises to try to take better care of himself, and to start asking for help when he needs it.

5 months into the papacy of Innocent XIV, one Mr. Bilal receives a letter requesting his expertise as the private doctor for the pope.

[seven-re]

Day 20 / Day 21 / Day 22

I'm really tired today and didn't have much time, so I took the chance to comply to that comment lol. Still had to sketch him shirtless, but I really idn't try much today, I lined it really quickly from the hips down too xD! I just wanted to show the concept :)

The idea had been on my mind for VERY long, so finally pushed through and got a design down lol. Sorry it couldn't be a complete drawing, ;_;

[jojo-schmo]

hi jojo! im just wondering but ive been wanting to make a comic for a little while but im not too sure where to start 😅. i really love your style of art and your forgotten land roleswap, and i was wondering if you had any tips for beginners?

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying my Forgotten Land Roleswap comic, it means a lot! <3

I'm very honored that people have been asking me for tips and advice. All of this is coming from a hobbyist who draws these comics purely for fun outside of my regular day job. Some of my methods would probably deal psychic damage to a professional, LOL. But I'm more than happy to share some things I've personally learned! :)

First of all, the book, "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud ROCKS. It literally gave me a new dimension to understand the medium of comics and how it presents ideas and emotions to readers! And I haven't even had the chance to finish it all the way! I'm very happy I own a copy and I recommend having one of your own if you can, but it's archived here if you want to read it :D

I also like analyzing other comics and thinking about how they get information across to me as a reader. It's helped me learn more effective ways to visually tell a story, like what to include in a frame, how zooming in or out affects the feeling from the panel, maybe building a scene by focusing on other stuff if someone is talking a lot... etc.

ANYWAYS-! Some other tips I've learned through my personal experience-

I had to overcome a lot of negative self-talk in order to tackle a huge comic project like this and stay committed. I was a pretty severe self-deprecator for most of my life so far, and getting help has allowed me to catch myself when I'm slipping back into those habits, look in the mirror, and go, "NO, JOJO! You pour your heart into what you make and that is a wonderful thing! You are appreciated and loved and you deserve to have fun making something you are passionate about!!" Some examples of the negative self-talk I catch myself in....

"I'm a noob at writing and making a story interesting... What's the point of even trying?"

When it comes to starting a project, whether it's 2 pages or 2000 pages, is to just jump in and start! It's okay to be a little insecure or nervous about your technical art skills, writing skills, etc... But writing a "bad" scene is better than no scene- because you can always edit a "bad" scene down the line, but what can you do with nothing? Nothing!! I also put "bad" in quotation marks because I am trying to use that term less, and instead call them "early drafts." or "works in progress."

The first Roleswap scene I fleshed-out was the first Bandee boss fight, in May 2022. I made this drawing on an impulse, getting my ideas down on the page without thinking about the technical stuff like comic panel borders. I consider it like a "pilot episode" almost, haha. The final project is going to be very different from how things play out here. But it got me interested in the concept and excited to see where I could take it, and I made the decision to commit to an entire game plot's worth of AU comics!!

Also, what's the point in trying you ask? The point is to have fun! Making a fan comic in my free time means I don't have restrictions like deadlines, nobody's telling me what I can and can't write, and I can make the story as long or as short as I want! I have full control, which means the world I'm writing is all mine to create! Yes, with a fan comic there is a pre-established world with existing characters. But a universe like Kirby has enough open-ended concepts for people to take basic concepts in the world and take them to whole new levels! I think that's why there are so many amazing fan interpretations of Kirby characters and OCs. The rules are so vague, you can just make up your own a lot of the time!! And it's a wonderful exercise to learn skills for someday building an original world with all original characters from scratch! Magical!!!

"I'm not good enough to make a comic. I don't understand perspective or color and other stuff. Anything I make will look bad.

I once read a two panel comic on here. I can't find it anymore but I remember most of it. First panel showed the artist looking at what they're drawing on their tablet, looking defeated and sad. "Man, I don't even know how to draw this....."The next panel was like them smiling and shrugging, I think rainbows and sparkles were coming out of their tablet, ".....I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAW IT SHITTY!! :D "

IF ANYONE KNOWS THIS COMIC I'M REFERENCING, PLEASE TELL ME AND I'LL LINK IT!!! Because it permanently and positively changed my brain chemistry.

No kidding, making the decision to just do my best even if it's not perfect, helped me a LOT. I was always waiting to "reach a certain level" to tackle a huge project because I felt like I'd never do it justice at my current state. Except I had been telling myself that kind of stuff for years and I still didn't start any projects!!

So the day I said, "Oh well! If I draw backgrounds shitty, then it is what it is! I'll learn from it and draw the next background a little better," Was the day I could commit fully to the project. I'll keep studying how to draw them better for my own benefit, but I won't let my skill issues stop me from even trying!

And for my limited confidence in full-color art, I solved that by making the comic in black and white with no-to-minimal shading lolol. Because I can only address one skill issue at a time before it takes me 25 years to finish this HAHAHA.

It saves a BUNCH of time to work with skill issues rather than against them! Because at least experience is gained in other ways, and who knows, maybe that new knowledge will help address the skill issues someday! So identifying your personal skill issues and deciding which one to try to grow stronger, and which one to work around, could help with big projects!

"Nobody will read this. I'm going to put months or years of my life into a dumb little thing nobody will even care about."

Learning how to draw for my own enjoyment instead of somebody else's was one of the biggest breakthroughs I ever made. Enjoying the feeling of being challenged artistically and just doing my best, even if it's not technically perfect, is the reason why I was even able to start this!

And just because someone doesn't directly like, comment or whatever on a post doesn't mean nobody saw it! I used to get really down on myself for the lack of engagement on my art on other websites.

I was a lurker for pretty much my entire teenage years and never posted my own stuff or commented much. But that didn't take away the fact that I really enjoyed the things I saw online. Those positive feelings were real to me, even when I didn't know how to articulate it in words. Granted, I grew up into a Words of Affirmation main, and I use words to tell people the positive things I think about them as much as I can! But I know not everyone prefers words to express themselves. So I think about the people that I don't know enjoy my work- that just because I don't see it doesn't mean I didn't make a positive impact on someone by sharing my stories.

THIS IS GETTING LONG-- UHHH, STORY TIPS!!

If you work best on technology, start building the story in a Notes app, or a Google Doc! If you work best with pen and paper, start a notebook and rearrange stuff as you need to!

Or if you're chaotic like me, a mix of tech and paper!! I bought a notebook with ring binding so I can remove and rearrange pages of drafts as much as I wanted to! Like here's two very rough concept pages of one Chapter 1 scene made months apart.

I'd say planning out the biggest basic plot points and then filling in between as I went was most helpful! I also have separate notes for character motivations, important story-changing events, etc... So I can have my own reference when I'm writing new scenes!

Okay this was a lot, sorry about the yapping! Hopefully it helps even a tiny bit. If you have any specific questions I'm happy to talk about my experience in the creation process! Or elaborate on anything I said above.

And finally, because I'm not a professional there are probably plenty of other tactics that could work better for some people. My ADHD probably doesn't help with the chaos of my process either, HAHA. But thank you for reading this far and enjoying the peek into the rainbow glitter and soap bubbles that inhabit the right side of my brain, heehee.

[pkmnirl]

How do you go about getting ideas for arcs? I’m struggling to figure out what I want to do with my character :(

Great question! This happens to be one of my absolute favorite parts of writing and pkmn irl itself. I've always been more of an ideas guy myself. I hope you don't mind but I decided to turn this into a bit of an overall tutorial for planning and writing arcs. Feel free to ask for any specifics because I could delve into my personal process for arc brainstorming, but I was admittedly writing this before getting ready for work and this post was getting kinda long haha

Knowing where to draw inspiration from can be a good place to start. It's wonderful to be inspired by music, a movie or tv show, a book, or even other people in the community and their writing. Ask yourself what elements of that thing draw you in. What do you like? What would you maybe do differently? I must mention though to be respectful of the work other blogs have put into their writing. Being inspired is a wonderful thing, lifting exact details or passages is not. If you're unsure, there's no harm is asking!

The most helpful thing I can tell you right off the bat is that you want to find out how to brainstorm. In schools they'll often try to teach you ways of brainstorming and outlining to structure your essay writing, if you're lucky they might even mention that there are multiple ways you can do this. The ones in school never worked for me personally, so for a long time I assumed brainstorming and outlining was a complete waste of my time and would launch straight into my writing drafts. But as I wanted to write more complex things and I wanted to indulge in more creative writing, I found myself getting stuck all the time. The truth is brainstorming is a helpful tool, but you have to know what type of brainstorming works best for you. Flowcharts, bullet points, stream of consciousness, word clouds, moodboards, drawings, whatever it is that gets your creative juices flowing. In my experience it works best to remember that not every one of these elements will make it into the final arc. You want to get your ideas down first and trim the excess later. I personally pay for a program (Milanote) that allows me to brainstorm in the methods that work best for me, but by no means do you have to pay for a program to do this. Pen and paper works just fine.

The next thing you wanna do is establish what you want your arc to do. Not every arc has to be a grand character development, but all arcs do something. No matter how small that something may be, something has to change as a result. Maybe your character meets a new person, obtains a new Pokemon, gets a new scar and a story to tell their friends, or maybe all they got was a t-shirt. If you already had a loose concept for your arc this can help you hone it. You can start asking yourself, "how does my character reach this point?" and work up to that. Map out what you think your character would do when dropped into a particular situation. This can also help you to establish the tone you want your arc to take. Is it silly and lighthearted or is it more serious and high stakes? Refer to the stakes tag post about proper tagging.

It can help to conceptualize your arc as a series of events rather than a single event. This allows you to understand how many posts you may need to split the arc up into, how much time the arc may take, or other hard to sort details.

These things ramp up when you start to incorporate more people into your arcs. Planning with your fellow writers is extremely important and that requires a lot of communication. Some writers prefer to do what we call pre-writing, which is typically you and the other writers get together and write out the posts in advance. This gives people the chance to look over each other's writing and make edits before the posts go live. Planning discords are useful for keeping things organized, but google docs or other collaborative writing programs can work just as well if those better suit your needs. Organize who is posting what and generally at what time, especially if the post involves other people's characters.

Remember all of this is for fun! These are not hard rules you need to follow. You should not force yourself to write things you do not like for the sake of others or for an imagined audience. Write what you want to write.

[blackjackkent]

All right, we're starting to get down to the wire on my Veilguard playthrough! We've got two companion quests remaining (Neve's and Taash's), and then a whole bunch of sidequest/faction quest cleanup to do, and then I'm pretty sure we're gonna start sliding down into the endgame, since everyone will be a Hero Of The Veilguard. :D

As always, feeling a bit sentimental about coming into the final arc of an OC's story; Helena has been very fun to mess around with. <3 But still plenty to do for now!

Since we've just been going down the list in order, Neve's quest is next up!

Helena has had some real tough adventures of late, so an afternoon going back home to Minrathous and hanging around chatting with Neve sounds GREAT. Maybe there won't even be any Venatori although I'm not counting on it. XD

-----

It's raining in Dock Town, as usual, when Helena finds Neve at the memorial on the neighborhood's north end.

"The Minrathous Wall of Light," Neve says wryly as Helena approaches.

Helena nods. "A light to remember the dead." She's never been to this particular memorial before, but there are a few such around the city, and one in particular in her neighborhood where the local Dragons usually pay their respects. Her visits there are usually late at night, when it's easier to sit with her thoughts rather than figure out how to voice them aloud to fellow mourners, but she's certainly no stranger to the general concept.

Neve grunts. "Unless the family lacks mages to keep them lit. Or the money for one. Then you're left in the dark." She snorts bitterly. "Tevinter subtlety."

Her eyes drift to a darkened sphere sitting among the stonework, and the sardonic grin slowly slips from her face again. "This was Brom's," she goes on in a lower voice.

Helena's eyebrows lift in recognition. "Rana's old partner."

Neve nods. "His light was out when I got here," she mutters. "I should've been back sooner..."

Helena draws a breath slowly. It's been a long time since she said a proper memoriam ritual out loud for anyone, but the words aren't hard to remember. "The light drawn echoes back," she says carefully. "In aeternum."

Neve blinks, and then laughs softly, surprised. "Formalities," she murmurs. She clamps a hand on Helena's shoulder, squeezing it briefly, fiercely. "He wasn't big on those... but he'd appreciate it."

She's quiet a long moment, then lifts her head and looks at Helena steadily. "I'm stopping Aelia," she says.

It's a flat statement of fact, almost without inflection. Helena smiles slightly; her friend never speaks in requests for help or support, even though Helena of course plans to offer both. But before she can say anything, another voice cuts into the conversation.

"Looks like we had the same idea."

"Rana," Helena says, in mild surprise. This is quite a coincidence - or perhaps not. More likely, the Templar has been watching them.

Rana gives her a sideways flickering glance before returning her eyes to the dark stone. "He read serials between assignments," she says pensively, half to herself. "Romance. The last one ended on a cliffhanger." Her eyes flick now to Neve, then away. "He was sure he knew the ending..."

Helena's lips twitch in spite of herself. "He'd have liked our friend Bellara," she says lightly. "She loves those things. Although she expects happy endings."

Rana hesitates, then smiles crookedly. "So did he. At least on the page."

"Better chance than here," Neve mutters. She hasn't looked at Rana since she arrived, keeping her gaze fixed on the stone.

Silence stretches a moment. Then Rana folds her arms, fixing her gaze on Neve's profile. "You're not the only one chasing Aelia," she says flatly.

That gets Neve's attention; Helena watches her friend's head shoot up, dark eyes suddenly narrowing.

"I've tracked some of her followers," Rana goes on. "They aren't quick to talk. Most said I'd be 'saved' soon." Her lip curls in a cool sneer. "But I did get the name of a place. Sanctum Lusacan."

Helena raises an eyebrow, then sighs. "Ominous formal name. Tied to Elgar'nan," she mutters ruefully. "Off to a good start."

Neve smiles faintly, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes as she turns to face Rana properly. "You forgot the catch," she says.

Rana shrugs. "It's an old temple. A lost one. If there's a record of its location, I can't find it."

Neve purses her lips, then nods slowly. "It's more than we had," she says. "I can track this down."

"And you'll tell me?" Rana asks. A pause; she sighs heavily. "Look, I know who else you work with, what they might suggest, but... what are you going to do?"

Neve doesn't answer for a moment. Helena can see her fingers fidgeting restlessly at her side.

"The best I can," she finally says.

Rana nods again, relaxing a little. "Right. Dock Town will see--"

"What, Rana?" Neve says impatiently. "Magisters who look the other way? Bribed Templars? Venatori who walk?"

"They see you," Rana finishes calmly, unphased by Neve's sardonic tone.

Neve snorts. "Is that all?" A pause. She lets out a heavy breath, glances from Rana to Helena to the array of glowing memorial orbs before them. "What will that mean?"

Silence again. She flicks a hand out, icy-pale light flashing from her fingertips. The dark stone glows with sudden light, lifting into the air as the magical power envelops it.

"Brom's light," Rana says softly. "Thanks..."

"I do what I can," Neve answers, equally low, and turns and walks away.

[nochiquinn]

book three part 4 FINAL

(thank you for indulging this project; if it made you at all interested in the books there are roughly one hundred million more words than I included here and you should check them out at the author's website here. also if you have no idea wtf this is (understandable since it took me nine years to finish it), the full list is at the top of my masterpost page because the tags have never wanted to aggregate properly. thank you again and enjoy this last installment of The Saga Of Edda Earth MST Edition)

How very Roman, Freya murmured.

Is he, y'know, [pantomines calling the enemy onto your own turf instead of chasing them down forever] Roman?

Odin rubbed at his empty eye socket.

that sounds disgusting. I suppose someone who actually has one eye knows what that actually means/feels like, but my mental image is Not Pleasant.

Sigrun wanted to tell Quetzalcoatl, You had better survive, old friend, but the usual sense of cognitive dissonance stayed the words. Ehecatl was in there. But so, too, was Quetzalcoatl, who had been ancient before she was born. She didn’t have the right to address him as a comrade in arms.

except he literally is. he is literally your peer at this point. maybe he has seniority, but you are both gods and I am going to spray you with a water bottle

“I am saying my farewells.

checking in with all your companions before the final boss battle

“You know, forty years or so ago, I was working my way up to trying to ask you out for coffee, when Adam got hurt, and you took the wounds from him. It was all over after that.” He shook his head in rueful amusement. “Do you ever wonder, Sig, what the world would look like, if we’d made other choices?”

YES. YES I DO.

Her eyes filled. All the time. I suspect I could have easily fallen in love with you. You were so innocent then. I’d like to think that you’d have warmed me, and that I’d have gotten along very well with Saraid, as I always have.

I'm convinced Davitt really wants to write polyam romance and just doesn't (or at least didn't at the time; I don't know her life) have the real-life reference points to know how to write a long-term polycule and instead ends up offending me personally. or equally likely is the chance that she's only familiar with the concept of a full triad 'cule, where everybody's dating everybody, and has stated in the past that she's uncomfortable writing gay relationships because of lack of personal experience to draw from (she got better in the prequel series, kind of) so doesn't know how to make a V 'cule work bc Sigrun is very straight and also [gestures at every time I've yelled at her for her Married People Don't Get To Talk To Anyone But Each Other bs].

also (bc this aside isn't long enough already) there's every chance in this hypothetical timeline that Sigrun as she was then wouldn't have shared Trennus with Saraid so easily, or Saraid with Sigrun (though the fact that Sigrun is Not Lassair might have helped).

OKAY I'M DONE BACK TO THE BOOK

“I am of Valhalla,” she said, her heart contracted down to a tiny, painful lump of cold-hot diamond in her chest. “I may love people who live here, but my loyalty is to my people, as a whole. This is the same duty I have had since I was born. This is the same duty in me that you accepted when we married. In that regard, nothing has changed, except your willingness to accept it.” She gestured at the city outside the windows. “But explain to me why I should abandon millions of my people to death, when they are in immediate danger, to protect this land, which has its own god, if a silent one?”

YEAH

(very hard not to paste their entire argument here bc we all know how much I love yelling at adam)

“How can you save anything by becoming solely destruction?” Sigrun’s voice caught. “I might ask you the same thing.”

Adam is planning to sacrifice himself to summon a godslayer, because he is an idiot. Sigrun's main abilities are healing, truthsense, and fertility. Please fuck off forever, Adam.

I trust in the gods. Because I have no faith left in humanity.

that might not be the best place for your faith either, honestly

It wasn’t black. It was the absence of light.

Vantablack. No, wait, that's not the darkest one anymore, shit

You would be surprised what I can hold inside of me, Venus snapped, and Mercury laughed, a mad, fey cackle.

always time for a dick joke

Another shockwave, and the major godling that Pluto was fighting absorbed it. Swallowed it. Stop feeding it! Juno snapped.

fucking feeders

Another tear trickled down a perfect cheek as Venus replied, He is with my beloved Mars. And if I knew where they were, I would go with you to meet them.

So Pluto pulled all of Rome into the Veil, because he's a madman, and Livorus' widow's first thought was that she was dead and would get to see him again.

WEH

“It’s said that she and the dragon, Niðhoggr, killed Hel, stole her kingdom, and now rule over the dead. So now she’s the queen of lost battles and the night sky.”

I mean. he's got the spirit.

“Maybe your friend the goddess will give us a lift on her wee dragon, then.”

Don't tease him, Sig was purposefully hiding herself. Again. (For a good reason this time, at least.)

I would be a very poor moon goddess, if I could not provide for my people in my own realm.

no dogs tho

Mothers, fathers, and children were not separated.

stares into the camera in american

Remember two years ago, when that Hellene technomancer had a suit breach when he was exploring Aristoteles Crater with the geology team? He sealed his suit by solidifying the air at the breach site itself, and prevented the air from subliming away in the vacuum.”

that's...pretty neat, actually

Linnea watched the people, who, straight-backed, continued to walk towards the great hatch that led into the hangar area. Some of them were barefoot. And last in line was a woman who was close to a jotun’s height, but covered in blue-green scales, like a nieten...but who just as plainly was not mortal. And behind her, a long, solid box of what appeared to be gold floated above the ground. “This is a god at work, Larus.” Oh, good. Gods can bend the laws of physics. That, I can accept.

I don't know why this is so fucking funny to me. "Humans are walking on the moon??? IMPOSSIB oh, a god did it. That's fine."

Why have I never remembered this before?

nith just broke sigrun's ptsd baby gate

No hiding on this night, daughter, [Tyr] chided her, gently. We do not cower in the face of death. We rejoice. You may rejoice all that you wish, Loki returned, sardonically. I plan to resist it to the end.

I enjoy Loki

Fenris, who lounged by the fire, with Ciele, Njord’s daughter, who’d fallen asleep on the wolf’s fur.

That's fucking adorable. (Of course I can only picture Fenris as the wolf goddess from mononoke and therefore Ciele is a tiny San.)

What, no flyt for Niðhoggr? Thor gibed Loki now. Nepotism, I see. Have you ever tried to rhyme ‘Niðhoggr’ with anything?

he's got a point

No, daughter. It is because your heart is too fragile yet for such. There is no target I could aim at, that would not make you bleed. And such is not the point of flyting. Flyting overturns the social order, but also reaffirms it. How can I make you one with us, by cutting you asunder with my words?

I enjoy Loki

Eat, and be renewed, Freya told her, kindly. Everyone must change to grow. Everything must change, to endure.

"be in a poly with the dragon"

She could not go back to Judea as Sigrun Caetia. She had to say farewell. Not to the people in her life, not entirely. They would always have a place in her heart, and she would always be there for them. But she had to say farewell to herself. She had to be ready to die in battle. She had to be ready to live. Either way, she had to let go.

Sigrun finally finishes ascending, after Eating The Fucking Apple. Again.

I have always wondered what Sophia felt, with her prophecies pressing in on her. And only now do I realize that I have lived with the weight of her vision all my life.

You are having A Moment and thus I will not yell at you about Sophia. I'm just gonna think about it real hard.

I love you. He forced the thought out. I have loved you since I met you. Is that not strange?

niiiith

Your mother twisted and tortured you, and held you back from all acquaintance for two thousand years. You cannot judge if you love— A low rumble of sound broke from the dragon’s chest. Yes, I can. I know what is in my heart.

I am not a smart dragon, but I know what love is

I love you, too.

y yo a ti

You love many people, Stormborn. By your own words, you could have—should have loved Worldwalker.

I know I did that whole rant up there but it wasn't in my original notes, so I'm including THIS rant from my original notes for posterity: I believe in my heart that Sigrun was made for a polyamorous lifestyle. She just never had the chance to experience it until she saw Trennus & Co. and by then she was locked into Adam's bullshit and also probably took Lassair's issues as a sign that poly doesn't work. WHICH IS WHY WE NEED MORE HEALTHY POLY REPRESENTATION I'm done now

I would have accepted him being soul-bound to me, for that it would have kept him alive, and young, and would have given you joy. And I might have shared some small spark of that joy. He paused again. And yet, I say he is a fool.

nith gets me

No more, Nith. I love him. And I love you. A mortal love, and an immortal one. One who will leave me, and one who will never forsake me.

[gestures at Polyam Sigrun Conspiracy Board with one hand and That's Not How Polyamory Works powerpoint with the other]

I love you, you who are so much more than mere death and darkness. I love you with my goddess-self, and I love you with my mortal heart. Will you take it, though it bleeds?

yessss put that dramatic emo shit in my VEINS

He shook as his form shifted and blurred, dropped to a crouch that felt wrong, because his knees no longer bent the proper way, and then stared down at his hands, recognizing them from the times he’d carried Sigrun in this shape.

where is my animorphs cover

We could course the heavens forever. Visit every star.

this is what happened with Joker and EDI in Spirit of Redemption. and I still love it.

also nith would rather flee into space than try to make his face look human.

In this case, she had the opportunity to make the face match the voice she’d heard in her mind so often.

and then sig spent ten hours in the character creator

I will resume my dragon form. No.

cowards

His instincts were, unsurprisingly, inhuman; he nipped and bit at her neck,

I just realized that Sigrun survived 44 years of the blandest, most vanilla sex mankind is capable of

And for now, she embraced the goddess.

title drop

Love is never wrong. It is sometimes inappropriately timed.

nith gets me

Nith...my sister’s prophecy... A child in your womb? The father a man alive and yet dead, your husband and yet never truly wed...

[pounds fists on table] dragon babies DRAGON BABIES

You were all bound to the defense of the city, long ago. This is the day and this is the hour that you have awaited!

The gargoyles have jumped off the Odinhall to fight the mutations attacking Burgundoi and it is every inch that one scene in the last Harry Potter movie

It came to be because it happened the way it happened, and it also came to happen because we would be and always have been bound...now.

veil time is bullshit

Catch this. What? Visionweaver had blurted, and then Dvalin had pulled the trigger. His hand had snapped up of its own accord, and there had been a dull sensation of impact, as if he’d been aiming for a nail with a hammer, and missed. He’d sworn, and brought his new hand down gingerly, fully expecting to see a gaping hole in the metal. Instead, he found the bullet, malformed and very hot, sitting in the palm of his hand.

Gloves of Missile Snaring! (did you really have to take Rig's hand off to give him these? Just let him take a level in Monk, it's fine.)

You’ve all worked with him before. You know what to look for.” “Something that lands on the Persian in front of you in the body of a wolf, and then leaps away looking like a lindworm, or a lion, or whatever the gods sent him as an impulse today?”

you leave maccis alone, he's a good, creative egg

Content with the damage he’d done for now,

I can only picture the Goose. you know which one.

A burst of quick pride; a male voice that said at the back of his head, That’s my wife. Look at her go!

wife guy brandr

“Listen. When Joris...died...you were angry. Don’t...set the world on fire. Not for me. Don’t need...that big a pyre...”

hey fuck this actually. not in the way I usually mean "fuck this" in this book but "fuck this" in the sense of Fuck This Thing In Particular

he dug his hands into the wolf’s ruff, and more or less pummeled Maccis in greeting.

solinus no he's been through Some Shit

Two hours ago. There were Persians fleeing the fight. A pause. They aren’t fleeing anymore.

I enjoy Maccis. Don't enjoy what happened to him. Just him as a concept.

Kanmi grimaced. He hated not knowing why the ground here, and the entire ley-system, seemed resistant to the deaths of mad godlings and gods. His current theory was that the god of Abraham had spread himself out into the soil of the province, silent and intangible...and turned himself into the world’s biggest heatsink, dispersing and absorbing the power of the gods who died here.

it's not the worst theory

“You...you betrayed your own kind. All the god-born have. They should be helping us against the gods!”

all of Potentia ad Poplum is very stupid

Death! came the echoes from millions of minds below, and Sigrun reeled with it, echoing the word, herself. Calling out to oblivion, acceptance and taunt. Come and take me, you bastard, if you dare.

I'll punch death, I don't give a fuck

You are bound to me, Niðhoggr, and I do not permit you to die! I will not permit you to leave me!

I'm not going back three books to check, but this seems akin to what Lassair said to Trennus before she autographed all his insides

Sadb found a bench to sit on, and for the first time in what felt like days, remembered the rose that had fallen at her feet, from the miraculous bush that had bloomed downtown, in the very face of winter. She’d have thought she’d lost it, but there it was, still tucked inside her shirt, in the protective cradle of her bodice. As she pulled it out, everyone in the training area went silent, and its scent wafted through the air, bringing with it an odd sense of peace. “What is that?” the bear-warrior asked, his voice reverent. “I’m not sure,” Sadb admitted. “I was thinking you might know.” She cradled it in her fingers, feeling unaccountably warm. And as she looked down into the petals, which had unfurled further against the warmth of her body, her eyes widened. “That’s a wonder, now,” she whispered softly, as Drust wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and looked down into the rose with her. Inside its heart, where there should have been golden stamen, they could both see a galaxy’s worth of stars swirling with cold, unending light.

Congratulations, Sadb, you're a goddess now

The Odinhall trembled, and became a pillar of light as Odin, Freya, and Tyr all liberated their entire stores of energy, at once.

Congratulations, Sig and Loki, you lead the Valhallan pantheon now. You also are the entire pantheon, but semantics.

And then, as he looked up, the stars went out.

and then they were in kingdom hearts

She couldn’t hear the screams of the men, but she could see the flash of their guns going off, and winced. Some of those bullets could injure the books on the shelves around them.

zaya's priorities are Correct

And she glanced down at the fiery tablet in her hands, and her lips started to mouth the word Azar...

HO DON'T DO IT

“Oh, I know who you are.” Her voice was thin. “Your Name is Nanghaithya. You are the daeva of discontentment. And while I have probably given you too much power in my life to this date, today, I abjure you. I am a daughter of the Magi. These archives are my charge. And this is not your place.”

zaya is more badass than you

But there is a difference between a loving parent, who steps aside to allow the child to walk on their own...and a parent who is entirely absent. Or worse, indifferent.

which sig TOLD you, and you bitched at her. you don't get to feel like you've had some great revelation (ha) now

He’d made the wrong damned choices.

y'think?

Sigrun! Neshama! I am so sorry that I couldn’t believe in you. Doubts and fears clouded my mind, and I couldn’t see. Can you ever forgive me?

look down, whisper no

—Why do you fight me? You and I are the same. We are one. We always have been, disunited on the opposite sides of time— We are not the same. You are not me. I am not you.

I am thou, thou art I

You are the first to have come so far. You are the first who has remained who you are. And thus, we are one. As we always have been.

"Humans require change to be human." "Correct." "I have stayed as I am." "This is a bad thing." "This is the best possible thing." I feel like that This Is Your Wallet tiktok audio

“Sorry, Sig,” he said, quietly. “Sorry it took me so goddamned long. I had to do it...my way, I guess.”

YOU LITERALLY DID THE THING SHE LEFT YOU FOR EVEN CONSIDERING. And instead of being part of her, beside her, you are being an enormous tool and risking the absolute worst outcome on the basis of "rip to all the other godslayer hosts but I'm different". Fuck off.

Visionweaver blinked, looking up to see Hecate join them.

We are potential, possibility, waiting to be birthed.

we are waiting for the scratch, scratch, scratch, of a universe being born

Many of the men wore tight-fitting vests of thick material that had had sleeves added to them,

Okay so Sig is looking into another universe - ours, presumably - and I cannot for the life of me figure out what this is supposed to be. Suit jackets???

She has Memory with her, where I have Thought. And she’s fought a lost battle.

there's a metaphor in here somewhere

She could see every moment of them, unfolding like the chain of lives on Juno’s tapestries, except they unfolded off the side of the road, like droplets of rain trickling along the outside of a moving motorcar’s windows. She could stare at them forever, fascinated. Hypnotized.

doors and windows

Especially as the Veil was a single dot of time, where the mortal realm was a continuum comprised of such points? She could enter the Veil, and exit it at any place in reality. And at any point in time.

it's all coming together

Such a task requires . . . an able, active gardener. Willing to prune and weed as needed. She paused. Or perhaps, instead of an absent father...an involved parent.

where's my theory about the Voice

I will knit Sophia’s mind whole, and I will tear Apollo of Delphi’s  grip from her. If he attacks me for it, I will execute him, and give his power to Sophia as a gift. Possibly with a bow to adorn it.

PUT SOPHIA IN THE GOD SQUAD

She put her arms around her former self, and Muginn cawed and leaped off the valkyrie’s shoulder, landing on Stormborn’s right shoulder, balancing opposite Huginn, who already perched on the left, and then both launched themselves to circle overhead. Sigrun put her head on Stormborn’s shoulder, and wept. Let go. Surrendered. Her outline wavered and dissolved. Faded into a sphere of energy, nestled in the palm of the goddess, with a tiny point of light inside of it. She studied it tenderly for a moment, before dissolving her armor, and tucking the spark into her bodice, just at her heart. I will give you and your memories to the next Sigrun. And like the one whose name we bear, perhaps her third chance at life will be the best. I will remain the goddess. She may choose her own way. Mortality. Divinity. Something in between. Nothing will be lost. Nothing will be forgotten. Not this time. She looked at the two ravens, as they circled over her head. Follow me. She paused. We’re going back.

WHERE'S BOOK FOUR

WHERE IS SIG3'S ADVENTURES IN A NOT-FUCKED-UP UNIVERSE

[BANGS POTS AND PANS TOGETHER] WHERE IIIIIIIS IIIIIT

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

Sorry guys (hits my agents with the horse transformation beam)

Ok admittedly I’ve had a rough idea for all these designs floating around in my head for a bit now, but I never actually got the chance to draw it digitally so here’s a quick concept doodle ig?

Anyways, ig as you can see from the image, in the “mlp AU” Iota is an earth pony, Min is a pegasus, and Astra is a unicorn. Their personalities remain relatively unchanged but idk how they’d all be “agents” in the mlp world.

Iota is a survivalist with a strong dislike for magic. They believe magic is just something to “cheat your way to success” with. Generally unfriendly and tends to keep to herself. Her Cutiemark is a branch wrapped in thorns.

Min is a pegasus with pretty weak flying capabilities. She doesn’t let that stop her however, becoming well known as an excellent engineer (or mechanic, something of the sort). She’s still pretty down to earth and smart (but with a bit of a hidden superiority complex). Min is not actually a blank flank I just haven’t thought of a cutiemark for her yet.

Astra is a unicorn astronomer. She had moved to town fairly recently to study the stars, but she’s is seldom seen by the townspeople due to her work requiring her to live a more nocturnal lifestyle. But despite this, Astra is very lonely and wants to be able to make friends and interact with everyone, but she’s always too tired to do so when everyone is awake. To solve this, she began using her magic to force herself to stay awake for long periods of time, which does technically allow her to socialize during the daytime now. However, her extended overuse of this magic has taken a very noticeable toll on her, and now she just tends to scare people away as the weird unicorn with the pinprick eyes and unbreakable stare. (If you can’t tell, she takes a lot of inspo from the Apple Sleep Experiment creepypasta, but without all the murdering). Her cutiemark is the planet Saturn surrounded by 3 stars.

All of these guys are also gonna get MLP style names, I’m just really bad at coming up with those so I don’t have anything yet.

But uh.. yeah these are the agents but horse. I’m having a lot of fun just reimagining everybody and I’m def gonna do more with these guys (and hopefully I’ll finalize their designs soon)

[from-one-to-seven]

Hey Mun, it's so nice to finally get a chance to send this fanletter. I've been a big fan of f1t7 since 2020, and I'm so grateful to finally get to see this blog again and glad to know that this blog is still running. Your blog really inspires me a lot, especially your artstyles and stories. I drew a lot of your dwarfies, even on my water bottles lol. I know, I'm not so creative at making illustration, most of the fanart that I made is just redrawing from yours (please don't be mad at it, it's not my original idea so I don't have any rights to it, tell me if any of it's wrong). I don't really get into the QnA section, but I really enjoy the lore a lot. Btw here's some pic of my fanart and OCs. Thanks for noticing :)♡

Btw, were you ever got inspired by steven universe in creating this blog?

Ps: Popmart release a Snow White and the 7 dwarfs blindboxes, get em if ya haven't got one

((Heya! Great to hear that my story and characters inspire you so much ^^ And what a lot of awesome art that you made, as well as characters of your own, that's super cool! Making drawings based on my existing work is totally fine as long as you don't try and sell it, haha. This blog has changed a heckuva lot over time. The dwarfs are now called Domov and are basically their own thing; not Disney-related. I wanted to make them completely detached from anything pre-existing and truly make them my own original creation. So if you haven't already, you should catch up to that as well. I hope you'll find it just as inspiring. I originally had a more solid idea of the characters using their gems to produce weapons, but that was right BEFORE Steven Universe became popular and I decided to scrap it so people wouldn't call me unoriginal, haha. Fate is the only character who has stuck to that concept. And thanks for the Popmart tip! I'll look into that :D))

[ashtoberr]

ASHUTA IS SO COOL OHHH MYYY GODDD •□•!!!!!

Hi hi I loveeee your csm oc / insert ♡♡ THEYRE SO COOL Her lore is so interesting 💭💭 At least. The lore that I've seen so far is so interesting. AND HER DESIGN IS SO CUTE I ADORE IT SM 🏂🏾🏂🏾🏂🏾

I always love it when ocs break the "norm" of their universe (idk if that makes sense but her being a vampire when most, if not all of the supernatural entities are devils/Devil adjacent is so swag and cool and based I LOVE SEEING CHARACTERS LIKE THAT 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽)

Her and Aki seem so cute too :3cc I don't think you understand how STOKED I was to see them in the selfship tag. Saw it and ran around my room screaming (in spirit not in action) because YES !!! FINALLY!!! IM STARTING TO SEE MORE PEOPLE W/ CSM SELF SHIPS / OC X CC SHIPS !!!!

I wanna know all ur thoughts about Ashuta 💭💭 She genuinely seems like such a cool character they're so epic and awesome n cool n swag ((o(^∇^)o))

OMG HI!!!! IM SORRY I JUST SAW THIS Ahhh thank you so much!!! It's super exciting to met another CSM selfshipper!!!! :DDD I'd love to hear abt ur self insert omg I'm so glad you like her!!!!!!! It actually means a lot, she makes me really happy to work on :D

And trust me I will provide on Ashuta lore >:3 Here is The Food For Today. I didn't include art this time bc I have been eepy. I have ideas for long after this, but this is the general gist. I plan to eventually draw a lot (if not all) of this out. Here's her concept for her first appearance and mission (Chapters 14 to 20, or up to episode 7 in the anime):

So, after being found by Makima:

She is added to the team briefly after Denji and Power. I'm currently undecided at which point she should enter the story; I'm thinking about prior to Chapter 14.

Makima helps her find a place (up until this point, she's been homeless since becoming a vampire) near Aki's apartment, encouraging her to make friends. She suggests Denji could use a friend since he's similar to her (not fully human, rough background).

Ashuta believes that since she'll be on a team of devils and humans, she would be more likely to make friends since they should be more accepting, right? She shows up to the Hayakawa apartment with some food, trying to introduce herself as a new member of the team (and not disclosing herself as a vampire yet- Power can tell, but doesn't care enough to point it out).

Denji thinks at first she's friendly, but a bit too polite and wonders how someone like her got chosen by Makima. Power doesn't initially feel strongly about her either way, though she's delighted to meet Meowy.

Aki thinks she's polite (and finally someone easy for him to get along with on his squad), but questions why she became a devil hunter after a couple hours of them hanging out. She briefly explains that she's a vampire, and that her life was ruined by the Vampire Devil. Aki's tone quickly changes knowing she's not human, and the night is sort of abruptly ended.

CHAPTER 14:

She's integrated into the group with Chapter 14's mission in the hotel being her first (could be retconned later.)

She's a bit hurt with the talk of Aki and Arai not trusting "non-humans" and saying they don't have human rights, so she's quick to become very quiet since she assumed Makima's team of devils and humans meant she was more likely to be accepted.

Himeno can quickly tell that she looks upset and comes over to strike up a conversation, and the two make small talk throughout the mission. She tells her to not mind Aki, that he's just had bad experiences with devils. Ashuta protests that she's not a devil, but a devil makes an appearance before Himeno can respond.

Himeno discusses with Aki later in the mission that she's surprised Ashuta is so conscientious for a vampire- Aki shrugs and believes it's her being deceptive. Himeno goes to suggest he give Ashuta a chance.

CHAPTER 15:

Ashuta does bond a bit with Denji over the mission, both of them asking each other questions about their respective species ("So are you allergic to garlic?" and "Does it hurt when your chainsaws come out?")

CHAPTER 16:

In hopes of winning Aki's approval, Ashuta offers to help Aki hunt for the devil. She explains that since vampires don't really need to sleep much, she could help him all he wants.

Aki, unimpressed, asks why she's so hellbent on trying to please him when he doesn't care about wether she lives or dies as a non-human.

CHAPTER 18:

In the hysteria of facing the eternity devil, Ashuta finally snaps at Kobeni after trying to keep everyone calm the entire mission, telling her she's going to be a shit devil hunter if she freaks out at the slightest inconvenience. Kobeni yells back that it was easy for her to say, that she'd been calm and collected the entire mission because she can't die. Ashuta yells at her that pussying out and turning on her teammates made it more likely for all of them to die, and to shut the fuck up and help if she was going to stay a devil hunter. It certainly doesn't make Kobeni like her, but it shuts her up.

CHAPTER 20:

Ashuta joins the newbie welcome party. Denji questions how she can eat if she's a vampire, and she shrugs and explains that it's the same way devils eat- the only difference is human food isn't of nutritional substance to her and she doesn't retain any energy from it, she eats it for nostalgia purposes and the taste.

Ashuta lightens up when Makima joins the party, glad to see someone familiar- she considers Makima a friend, being the first person who was nice to her.

During the party, Makima asks Aki how Ashuta's first mission was, and wether she had done satisfactory. Aki admits that she did well, and Ashuta can't help but be a little happy at his approval.

As the night progresses, she gets drunk enough where she feels less afraid to approach Aki again. The two actually end up talking some. While drunk, Aki apologizes for the way that he had regarded her earlier in the night, and that she handled her first mission well, remaining composed in such a stressful situation .

Ashuta shrugs, and says it's fine- when she was turned into a vampire, she'd been shunned by everyone she once knew. She explains she still considers herself the same person she was before, but she fears rejection from humans more than she fears injuries from devils. He suggests she come stop by their apartment again sometime (more out of drunken guilt than actual like for her, but it's a start to them becoming friends).

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Iteration - a Malevolent fic, chapter five

John has been poisoned. Who did it? Unknown. How can he be saved? If not for Arthur, he wouldn't.

The ripples from this event hit far distant shores, and no one will come out of it unchanged.

Part 100 of the Surrogate series.

AO3 - chapter five

-------------

Not-John was not okay,

Not only had he died, but could again, and now would allow no one near them,  howling and flailing his arm.

Arthur was trying so hard. He sat on his bed, holding a drawing from Sadie. Get well soon, it said, and had been delivered by Faroe.

It’s a bunch of people doing things, said Not-John sullenly.

“You can do better than that,” Arthur said, trying so hard to be patient.

Fine. There’s a man who looks like you, twisting in mid-throw of some kind of spear. There’s that shitty little girl—

“Watch it,” Arthur said, low. “Fucking attack me all you want, but Faroe is off-limits.”

Not-John touched the mark. Is that your official request, my own? he said, low and smug.

Arthur shivered. “It’s a godsdamned line in the sand, and you are pushing it.”

It was a button, is what it was, but Not-John knew to hold onto it for when it would count. Fine. The girl is there, riding on… I have no idea what that is.

“A baby Dark Young,” said Arthur.

No, it’s not. I remember what they look like. That’s not one of those.

Arthur blinked. “You remember that?”

Yes.

“But not fucking anything else?”

Not-John paused. I… recognize, which is different from remembering.

Arthur sighed. “All right. We can work with that. What else do you see?”

I don’t understand why we’re doing this.

“Because we—” Arthur had gotten sharp; he stopped and gentled his voice again. “Because we built a life together, John. I’m hoping eventually something will help you remember it.”

What life did we build?

Arthur sighed heavily. “A complicated one. There’s Faroe, and Nibbles, and Hastur. The Keeper.”

The Keeper?

In the mirrors, Arthur looked uneasy. “I’m not sure how to explain her. She’s an Outer God.”

An Outer God!

“She’s helping us.”

They don’t help people. Outer Gods bring chaos! Outer Gods bring death! Outer Gods bring carnage!

“Well, this one brings books,” said Arthur. “Oh! Maybe you’ll recognize the comic books. I haven’t had the chance to give them to Parker yet.”

Comic books? said John as though the concept were absurd.

“Yes! Comic books, where the stories are all drawn in… in pictures! With Dick Tracy! You liked them before. They’re about a detective.”

Not-John was silent for a long enough moment that Arthur grew concerned.

“John?”

I give up. Why do we want to look at dick tracing?

Arthur choked.

And with incredible timing, there came a knock at the door.

Go away! shouted Not-John.

“Be more mature than that,” said Arthur.

No! I died! I don’t have to be anything!

Arthur sighed. He caught Not-John’s hand and held it. “Listen to me. You’re not dead now.”

I was, though! And you’re frail! Mortal! It could happen again!

“I”m not letting you die,” Arthur said softly. “I’m not letting you drown. I’m with you, John. I’ve got you.”

And that should not have brought the comfort it did.

This was a mortal man, a blind one, a ridiculously willful one. He was skinny and stubborn and covered in scars, and didn’t know his place to such a degree that he almost seemed insane.

And yet those words brought comfort.

John’s hand twitched in Arthur’s. Slowly, he returned that grip. You’re an idiot, he finally said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and headed toward the door. “Who’s there?”

“Hey,” said Parker on the other side. “Got a minute?”

And Not-John saw the way Arthur’s shoulders relaxed, saw the way his lips quirked in that soft, near-secret smile, and so help him, he almost threw a fit. His. This was his. Who the fuck was this, showing up without any kind of permission to—

Arthur opened the door.

"Hey," Parker said with obvious relief. "You're up. It's real good to see you up, English."

Not-John stared. Who was this motherfucker?

"Parker," Arthur sighed, and there was such relief in his voice and his expression that Not-John growled.

The other man looked a bit taken aback. (Which did nothing to make him less handsome, and that was a personal offense.)

Well that's just uncalled for, said the tiny golden piece inside this man, the tiny piece that felt exactly like him.

Not-John startled again, far worse this time. What? What is that?

“Moving on,” said Parker, who clearly didn’t find that growling as terrifying as he should. “You feeling any better?”

“I’ve stopped throwing up,” said Arthur. “I don’t… know what you were told.”

“We heard some fucker—”

What is that? Not-John repeated, and his left hand flew to the door to slam it shut.

This man—this Parker—stopped it easily (familiar with his own, handsome, and strong? Oh, no, no, no, this was not allowed). “The fuck, John?”

“He doesn’t know who he is.” And oh gods, Arthur was crying again, crying with this person, and in front of (what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck) that little tiny reflection of godhood. “He’s lost his memory.”

“Oh, shit,” said Parker. “Hey, take it easy, there. It’s gonna be okay.”

The tiny little golden bit sounded horrified. Oh… oh, no. No, no, no. Parker… Parker, he…

“Easy. I  think we’re all a little different than we were,” said this Parker, which made no sense, and caressed his jaw.

Not-John tried to close the door again.

“John, stop it!” Arthur snapped, and stepped away from it. “Come in, you two. I’m sorry, I… I’m trying to help him.”

Help him? said the golden bit as if suspicious.. Are you really? Your help can be… He stopped. I’m sorry.

“No, it… it’s warranted,” said Arthur, gaze down. “After what I did to you…”

They all had shared history, these three, and Not-John wasn’t part of it, and he couldn’t handle that right now. Leave! he commanded.

There was a pause.

“Nuh-uh,” said Parker.

Arthur looked like he was trying not to laugh, and that did not help.

Not-John snarled, a sound that went with bared teeth and flailing tentacles. I am god here and you will go!

Another pause. And again, this Parker defied him with complete dismissal of who and what he was. “Naw.”

Parker, whispered that bit that had no right to look like him, however tiny. He doesn’t know who he—

I AM THE KING IN YELLOW, AND YOU WILL OBEY ME! Not-John bellowed at the top of his lungs.

So am I, you fucking buffoon! the tiny piece yelled back.

Not-John gawked at him.

Arthur Arthur winced as though that hurt him. Of course it did; Not-John’s anger made him hot against Arthur’s seams, straining mortal limits. “Let’s, um. Let’s try to, um.”

“How about some good old-fashioned introductions?” said Parker, and began pointing. “I’m Parker. Arthur, you know. Sunny’s in here.” At his own head. “You’re John. You and Sunny, you’re both parts of the King in Yellow.”

Both parts? Both? No, that was his designation! Fuck you! Not-John decried.

Parker sighed, closing the door behind them so they’d have some privacy. “Guessin’ he wants to rejoin Hastur, too, huh?”

“He’s never rejoining,” Arthur snapped.

"Hold on, pal, I’m not saying he will,” Parker soothed. “Just establishing facts."

Rejoining! Not-John scoffed. Why would I want to? I need my own body, not someone else’s.

Your… your own? said Sunny.

“He doesn’t believe me that he doesn’t have one,” said Arthur evenly.

Oh, said Sunny quietly, and then evidently rallied. So he’s an idiot.

“Not helping,” said Parker, but his lips quirked.

You’re right. We’re going about this all wrong, said Sunny, whose voice had gone soothing (and it was his voice and what right did this pebble have to—) Have you tried playing any music yet, Arthur?

“No, not yet.”

“Maybe you should,” said Parker. “Though that shot Sunny like outta you a cannon before, so maybe not?”

"That’s why I don’t know if I dare risk it," Arthur said fervently. "I can’t lose him.”

It brought him back when we were in Addison, Sunny said, so quietly. It's worth a shot.

Be quiet, you fucking little sliver, Not-John snapped. Arthur plays music on my command, not yours.

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry about him. John, you didn’t even know I made music.”

A pause.

Well, I do now, and it’s all mine! Not-John declared.

“Been like this since he woke up?” said Parker.

“Yeah,” said Arthur.

The tiny, insulting sliver of a god trembled. Parker…

“We won’t keep you,” Parker said evenly. “All right? We just got a few questions.”

Arthur looked up. That smile—oh, that smile, it hurt, it was knowing and comfortable, and it suited him so well. “What, you’re on the case?”

“Yeah, actually.” Parker didn’t smile. “Sunny and me are gonna get to the bottom of who tried to kill you.”

And Arthur took a slow breath. “The Keeper said it wasn’t aimed at me.”

They all took that in.

What? said Not-John.

“Huh,” said Parker. “That kinda… changes shit. There’s been no threatening notes, or nothing?”

“Not that I know of, but I don’t know much,” said Arthur.

Tried to kill me? Not-John said, stating to panic,

Arthur took his good hand. “You’re all right. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

I’m sorry, John, said Sunny suddenly. I’m sorry this is happening. I know what you’re going through.

Not-John was spiraling. Bullshit!

No, said Sunny, this insolent little scrap of golden fabric. I do. I’m sorry it’s happening to you.

Not-John growled again. None of you know anything. You’re insulting to even witness. Leave, before I do something this fool of a human regrets.

“Since he woke up,” Arthur repeated.

“Yow.” Parker shook his head.

“But at least he’s awake. I’ll take it.”

Sunny made a small noise of assent.

“Anything else you can tell us before we go?” said Parker.

Arthur thought. “It tasted normal. It smelled normal. Everything was fine until I got ready for bed, and then… it was really sudden. It didn’t ramp up.”

Parker nodded. “That’s good info. Get better. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

You’re going to be all right, John, Sunny suddenly said. You will. You… you’re not alone in this.

How the hell would that breadcrumb know? Not-John fell quiet again (apart from growling).

Parker, said Sunny, voice so soft it was almost inaudible, I think Arthur could use a hug.

Arthur’s eyes widened.

Parker didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Arthur and pulled him in, a tight, firm hold that John could feel on their left side, a familiar, full-body situation.

In the mirrors, Arthur returned it, and  his eyes—still wet—closed as he rested his head on Parker’s shoulder and breathed. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“Take it easy,” said Parker, and let go.

Arthur predicted trouble and was already gripping his left arm. There was no chance to retaliate. You… Not-John started, unable to hit or anything. How dare you manhandle…

“Sorry,” murmured Arthur.

Parker just nodded, touched two fingers to his forehead like tipping a hat, and left.

Arthur relocked the door.

How dare they!

“I’m going to lie down,” said Arthur, who… come to think of it, was pale.

Not-John switched tracks at once. You still haven’t eaten.

Arthur wouldn’t even move toward the car with their breakfast. “I just don’t feel like it.” He flopped on the bed.

Damn it, Arthur, it’s my life you’re playing with, too! Not-John growled.

“It’ll be fine,” Arthur said.

This was beyond frustrating. Here was his person being a moron, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Had to stay so compressed, couldn’t just take control here without hurting him… it felt horrible.

Surely, this couldn’t be how it felt all the time.

Surely.

Unacceptable, he said. You must eat.

Arthur sighed into the pillow. “John…”

You are temple to the divine, said John. You will care for yourself.

Arthur started laughing. It was quiet, muffled in the pillow; his whole body shook.

What? Nothing is funny!

“You’re even worse than before,” said Arthur. “I swear, telling you about Hastur just sets you off every time. How do you even do that?”

What? said Not-John. What?

“I’ll eat soon. I promise.” His words were already on the edge of slurring. “I just… this was a lot. I need to rest.”

His person did need it. Then sleep. And he brushed the mark to make it so.

Arthur was out like a light, for once behaving as expected.

What an absolutely infuriating human. He wanted to eat him.

None of this was how things ought to go. He didn’t know enough to take true mastery of any part of this situation. He was shackled by this human. Everything hurt. And he was afraid, and liked that least of all.

Someone had tried to kill him. No wonder Arthur was sick.

For now, he was stuck, and as Arthur slept on, he picked up the drawing Arthur had left by the bed, and tried to remember what any of it meant.

#

“You did good in there. I’m real proud of you.”

Sunny felt pleased by the praise. You were right, is all. He’s not what he was. And… I do understand John.

“That might come in real handy,” said Parker, on his way down the hall. “That guy’s full of bats right now. So, question: any chance there’s like… magical poison that can get triggered by something?”

Sunny paused. Do you think we triggered it? he said quietly.

“No, bud, no. I’m just thinking… what he said. You don’t go from fine to not fine like a switch hours and hours after being poisoned. Unless that’s how magical poison works.”

You have… that’s a good point, said Sunny, thoughtfully. Curses do that, but this is specifically poison. I don’t remember if it can be triggered, but perhaps… we could research?

“Research means one thing. You thinking what I’m thinking?” said Parker.

Librarian, said Sunny.

“That’s my guy,” Parker praised him, and made a left at the next hall.

#

The Librarian was surprised to see them—or, at least, Parker assumed. It was hard to fully confirm when the person you’re trying to read had a book for a head, but he tried not to dwell on that too much, instead brushing it off under the thought of ‘something new every day’ and focus instead on their task: tracking down the poison.

Our problem is two-fold, Sunny said, voice low and emphatic. First that the poison appears to be magical in nature. Parker and I were with Arthur for the better part of an hour, and yet Arthur didn’t feel the effects until he was fully alone. The second is that John was the intended target, which… if John was the target, the assassin knew much more about the inner workings of the palace than is reasonable. Things that no one outside the palace should know, information that Hastur has not revealed.

The Librarian had been very still ever since they’d explained who they were and why they were there, taking a seat on a large pile of books, half-closed. It tugged at the sleeve of its coat, before its head snapped open to flip to an illustration of Parker, with a halo, and a humanoid blob next to him with another, much less humanoid, blob in his arms.

Parker furrowed his brow, trying to decipher it, but Sunny seemed far ahead of him. Oh, no! John isn’t… Oh. You haven’t met them. That… complicates things.

“Sunshine, catch me up,” Parker muttered.

That seemed to catch the Librarian by surprise; one of its white-gloved hands flew to its chest and its head flipped to an illustration of Parker, face peaceful, head tilted towards a stylized sun.

Parker felt his cheeks flush a bit pink.

Um, yes, Sunny said, almost shyly. That is… Yes. Parker, the gist of what the Librarian said was that… Well, it asked how, since John is Hastur’s offspring, which is… Not true. At least, not in the conventional sense. John is… John is like me.

The Librarian’s head snapped shut.

Parker could get the idea. “This ain’t public knowledge,” he said, voice low. “We’re askin’ because you’re one’a Hastur’s most loyal. Sunny vouched for you.”

The Librarian pressed its hand to its chest again, nodding, and then rose, stalking off between the rows of bookcases like a dog on the hunt.

Parker let out a low breath. “What are we lookin’ for, bud?”

I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure, Sunny said, soft and wary as they surveyed Hastur’s private library. I’m hoping we can seek out some answers by process of elimination. One of the most intriguing aspects of this case is the idea of a magical trigger that sent everything into motion, particularly since that would mean Arthur wouldn’t react until the trap is sprung. Most poisons that would kill a god would absolutely kill a mortal as well, long before the god began to feel its effects, but Arthur…

“Arthur wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things,” Parker finished. “I mean, shit, he’s up and walking around again. That means it was targeted specifically to hurt… you know, I never thought there was a type of thing involved here. What exactly are you, Sunny?”

Sunny made a low noise of frustration. I… I’m not sure. I’ve never had to really think about it before, Parker. My whole life I… I didn’t think there was anything particularly strange or unique about what I was until John was unveiled as Hastur’s ‘offspring’. It had never occurred to me that my—his—our true origins needed to be a secret.

“You think understanding that will give us a leg up on this hunt,” Parker said. “Smart. We already know it’s someone on the inside; who might have that information, much less access to Arthur as a whole? Good thinking.”

Sunny would preen, if he could.

Instead the Librarian returned with a stack of books nearly as tall as Faroe was, and Parker’s eyebrows shot upward, and Sunny let out a soft groan.

Parker cleared his throat and smiled. “Thank you, mist—mi—Librarian. I don’t, uh, suppose you have any specific chapters for u—”

The Librarian flipped through its pages and made a sound almost like a laugh, its spiraling arms already pulling books off the stack and opening them to particular pages.

Most of these books were in languages Parker could not even begin to parse, but luckily, Sunny was on the case.

#

So this was complicated.

Forgotten Ones. Apparently, they were called that now because the gods who’d made them back in the day often just left them on their own… usually, to die.

Once again, Hastur was a weirdo.

Sunny and John were both weird, too, surviving as they had, but it got weirder still: apparently, John no longer looked like a Forgotten One.

The Librarian made it clear, showing illustration after illustration of tiny little versions alongside larger gods, and then showing John.

John looked fucking Arthur’s size. It made no sense. The Librarian didn’t know why that was, either; there was no record of such a thing ever happening before.

(And Sunny was…)

(Parker had to process, had to think later about the fact that Sunny…)

(Sunny would fucking fit in his hands. Sunny would fucking fit in his pocket. Sunny would fucking fit in his mouth, which was a funny idea, and one that would send Parker into hysterics if he thought about it too much right now, so later, later, later.)

They also found that the spell-trigger idea was valid… and continued to narrow things down.

It was a deeply complicated piece of magic. Very few beings had the power to do it, and the trigger tended to carry “fingerprints” of whoever handled it. Esthetic resonance aside, they also tended to be disguised like insects, or small animals—though they were not alive.

That right there gave Parker and Sunny the next step: since no one would have known to look for the thing, they needed to get into Arthur’s room and search on their own.

Unfortunately, that would be a bit challenging. This was a crime scene, and not exactly open to guests.

Parker eyed the Dancers in front of Arthur’s empty bedroom. Sharp, golden, deadly, beautiful; not for the first time, he shook his head at how perfectly Hastur had represented his essence in these creations.

How are we getting in? whispered Sunny (who was little and Parker could not think about it).

Parker exhaled. “We’re gonna test something. You up for it?”

With you? Always, Sunny vowed, barely above a whisper.

“The way it is on Earth, a lot of authority is assumed,” said Parker, peering around the corner at the Dancers. “It’s real simple. Back there, you wear a nice suit, you act like you’re supposed to be someplace, and most of the time, it works.Though I had to have Arthur do that for me a lot. Racialism.”

Sunny considered this. Here, no one cares about your heritage.

“Yep,” said Sunny, counting guards, timing their movements.

We may be able to bluff our way into his room.

“That’s what I’d like to do, pal.”

Sunny was having a little too much fun, he was pretty sure. I’m sure they’ll let us in. We can bluff it.

“Well. Guess we’re about to find out,” said Parker, tugging his shirt down and smoothing his trousers. Then he marched toward the room as if expected.

Dancers had no faces. They still sure as fuck looked his way, all at once, creepily synced.

Parker nodded as if all of this was normal and reached for the door.

The one on the left, raised her (its?) arm to block him.

“We’re here on orders,” he said without hesitation, without stammer, without stutter (and it hit Sunny just how bad Arthur was at lying). “King in Yellow himself sent us. Check with him, if you want.”

The Dancer didn’t seem to know what to do with that. Maybe it was outside her routine.

He is my partner, Sunny rumbled, and we need to investigate the Composer's quarters. Kindly step aside.

And the Dancers… recognized him.

Not who he was. As in who he had been.

They swept aside, forming two perfect lines along the door… and bowed.

Parker was a damned good liar, but it still took effort to keep his face straight as he stepped inside.

He leaned against the door, eyes absolutely huge in the mirrors. “You did it again. How’d you do that?” he whispered after the door shut. “That was fucking amazing!”

I… Sunny said, stunned. I just… asked. Perhaps it is because I am a piece of the King, I don't know. Maybe they also listen to John. But that is… very good to know. And reassuring. Comforting.

“Fuck, Sunny.” Parker looked (so many mirrors) and sounded impressed. “You are one heck of a guy.” Which, from him, was a hell of a compliment.

Well, maybe to you, Sunny said, flirting just a little.

Then again, flirting in Arthur’s room lacked a distinct amount of appeal, so Sunny let it go.

“Right,” said Parker, surveying the space before stepping further in. He snorted. “Thought the mirrors were bad out there. Geez.”

It seems the King wanted John to see Arthur at all times. Perhaps to ensure he was fit for court before leaving the room?

“Pal, I got no idea,” said Parker. “I never seen nothing like this before.” And then, so casually, he said, “But if you were the King, why would you do it?”

Oh, said Sunny at once. To keep John bound.

“Bound?”

Constant reminder of what was his. Arthur is… far from my favorite communicator, but he makes so many faces. He’s not like you, Parker; he doesn’t have full control over his emotions or himself. I will begrudgingly admit he… can be interesting to watch.

“So you think it’s a honeypot for the bee that’s already striped-ass-deep in honey,” said Parker with a grin.

I… I think so?

“I got questions,” said Parker, “but that’s gonna have to wait. Okay. Let’s see. Time to do some inspection.”

They had done this before in the Dreamlands, and had it down to a science. Parker missed nothing—as long as it was in the physical world. Sunny caught the magical things Parker couldn’t see. Between the two of them, bad guys had a lot of trouble hiding their tracks.

The downside was only vaguely knew what they were trying to find.

The room seemed huge for one guy, especially one who was blind; the bed was a four-poster with a gauzy white canopy that dominated one side of the room, facing a balcony that overlooked an interior garden. A massive wardrobe lay across one wall, mirrors inset into the doors and walls and ceiling.

The whole place was warded to hell and back. Parker’s heart fell as Sunny described it. “Confirmation it had to be someone trusted,” he murmured.

Yes. No one else could have done it, Sunny said, softly grieving. It’s someone they know.

Parker looked through Arthur’s wardrobe. “Some of it’s kinda clowny,” he said, because it was just the two of them.

Strange, said Sunny. They’re also… wildly inconsistent in size.

“More questions,” murmured Parker. He finished inspecting the closet and returned to the perimeter.

There wasn’t anything notable around those walls but mirrors. Which were weird. Parker squinted at himself. Then he stuck his tongue out at Sunny with a grin.

Sunny curled the tip of their tongue to touch their upper lip and Parker let out a snort of laughter.

I don’t mind the view, but these… these just seem excessive. There’s nothing magical I can see in the reflections, at least not yet. He let out a rumble. I think their bathroom is to the right, past the bed, if it follows a similar layout of the rest of the palace’s rooms.

“Good thought. Let’s see…” Parker backtracked to the door. “Right. Let’s go slow. See if you can spot anything on the way to the bathroom.”

And Sunny gasped.

Parker went dead still.

Under the bed, Sunny whispered. There’s something… under there. Fuck.

Parker swallowed. “Think it’s our trigger?”

I don’t know, Parker. There’s something strange about it. It flickered into view, like a broken spell. It’s… it’s moving a little. Weakly.

So there were no weapons of any kind in this room. Parker exhaled through his nose. “Fuck. Do we get the Dancers, or go check it out ourselves?”

It’s very small, said Sunny. And… I don’t think it’s… long for this world. But don’t touch it, or you might compromise the esthetic resonance.

Parker went into the closet and found a shirt. “Guide me, partner.”

Parker trusted Sunny to direct him toward a thing he could not see. That  trust was powerful, and Sunny treasured it—Arthur had never trusted Sunny as much as Parker did.

But then, there were reasons for that.

Under the bed twitched a… thing. More like a spider than anything else, but it wasn’t alive; it was a spell with a time-limit, and as they approached, it faded more, bits of it flaking away.

Sunny’s instinct was good. Thousands upon thousands of years of handling magic didn’t go away just with loss of memory, and he understood something at once: Parker, he said quietly. We need magical help at once. Something in it malfunctioned—it should have already been gone, but if we don’t act now… wait. I know.

“Yeah?”

Spell. I think I can… I think I remember… He thought, precious seconds flaking away while the evidence faded. It’s… it’s a stasis spell. It should keep it from fully fading away. Though it should’ve faded already, and I don’t understand why it didn’t.

“Maybe Arthur’s so toxic he cursed it back,” Parker joked.

Ha, said Sunny, then sobered again. Ready?

“Yes.”

Mgfm'latghnah.

Parker felt it slide in them the way magic always did, starting in his throat and somehow slipping through his veins, feeling oddly foreign, as if his blood briefly turned to solid glass, yet kept flowing.

There was a spark under the bed, and suddenly, he could see it: an ugly little thing, weirdly textured as if made from ash, twitching inside a glass box.

“Got you, you son of a bitch,” Parker said to it.

I think we may have found the trigger, said Sunny.

“We gotta show the King.”

Yes. He’ll be able to identify who handled it.

“Safe to pick up?”

Yes.

Parker did a further search of the room just to be sure, but the Dancers had done their job, and it was clean. “Why’d they miss it?”

It was made by someone very powerful, said Sunny nervously. If we hadn’t been at exactly the angle we stood at, I would have missed it, too. And like I said… it should already have been gone. He paused. Maybe Arthur did somehow accidentally break it.

“More and more questions,” said Parker, using Arthur’s shirt to hide it. The glass cube was surprisingly heavy. “But with this, maybe we can get some fuckin’ answers.”

#

Hastur was having trouble finding words for this situation.

Upset was a mortal term, appropriate to lost pencils or (heaven forbid) keys snapped in locks, requiring aid.

Afraid fit smaller beings, who had no idea what the loss of themselves would bring, and could more look forward to erasing their carbon footprint than they could affecting the very world.

Furious only worked in the sense that he was, indeed, angry, and he could apply the Latin for violent passion, rage, madness, and  to rage, be mad.

No… this was something else. This was threatening a six-year plan in one fell swoop. This was disregarding the good god he'd been, ignoring how hard he'd striven, and shitting on all his recent effort to make peace and be even more good.

This was threatening his end game of Faroe Safe At Any Cost, and that alone was enough to make him feral.

Whoever it was had more luck than they knew because he didn't know who had done it yet, but when he found them, oh. Oh. The world would feel their suffering.

In the meantime, he had triage to do.

Arthur and John were speaking as he approached the medical wing. He’d thought—maybe hoped—that his absence would give them the chance to establish John’s personality, identity, self, but that… did not seem to have worked.

Surprise, surprise, they were fighting.

It happened here, and that means I am in danger. We need to leave!

“This is the safest place we could be,” Arthur snapped. “What do you want to do, go wandering around the Dreamlands? Like that’s ever worked out well for us!”

You—we did that before?

“Yes! It’s where I got half these scars!”

Well… you… didn’t have me then!

“Yes, I did, you twit!”

Clearly not, Not-John rumbled. Given that I was calling myself John and didn’t know I was a god.

Oh, good. They’d clearly handled that revelation well.

“You did know.”

Liar!

“I’m a lot of things, John, but lying well isn’t one of my skills. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m lying.”

A pause.

Well… you… Sputtering sounds. We did it wrong! That’s what that means!

Arthur sighed. “Look, John, I’ve been in the public eye for… fucking years now, and we’ve been at Court for months. We can’t go out unnoticed. We can’t sneak around unseen. They’ll know who I am, and…” He sighed. “We couldn’t defend ourselves, anyway. We’ve only just started magic.”

Just started! It’s been ten years!

“You didn’t know you could at first, and then I wasn’t attuned, and you tried and it stopped my heart, and—”

I would never be so inept, Not-John rumbled as if he’d been directly insulted.

Arthur sighed. “The point is, this is the safest we can be.”

Where we were attacked!

“We weren’t attacked.”

Then what the fuck happened?

“I—”

You will tell me, Arthur Lester!

Hastur stiffened. He felt it happen—felt John trying to use the mark to force his way. Well, damn. Had that been happening all morning?

Another pause.

OW!

“That’s what you get!” Arthur declared.

Hastur had to see.

He opened the door to find John wildly shaking his left hand, on which reddened bite-marks indicated exactly how Arthur had shown his displeasure.

Hastur stared.

You bit me! He bit me! You… Not-John gasped. Oh!

“Who is it?” said Arthur, voice cracking, afraid.

“Me,” said Hastur.

“Thank fucking hell! Where the fuck have you been?” Arthur snarled at him.

What… what…. trembled Not-John.

“I am the King in Yellow,” rumbled Hastur without putting much effort into it.

Not-John made one small, unhappy sound. I… see that you are.

“He doesn’t remember anything important!” Arthur cried.

Important!

“Yes, important! Me! Us! My daughter! Arkham! Anything!”

“Been holding this in all morning, have you?” said Hastur mildly, and picked Arthur up.

Not-John gasped and smacked wildly at him. No! Mine! Mine!

“Calm.” Hastur inspected closely. “You are improved, Arthur.”

“I still can’t stay awake very long,” Arthur said.

“The Keeper said that you are… ah. Recharging,” Hastur said, lifting Arthur’s arms one by one, peering close. “Whatever it is in you that protected John was used heavily.”

“He’s still all right, though?” said Arthur.

“Yes.”

Put my… put him down, said Not-John softly, and he sounded like he was going to cry. He’s mine. You can’t have him. I marked him first.

Hastur sighed. “Reduced to the most base parts of himself, I see.”

“Something like that,” Arthur muttered.

“John, I will not take him from you. Now shut the fuck up,” said Hastur. “Your heart still isn’t as steady as I want.”

“When is it ever?” Arthur muttered.

His heart?

“When the poison could not snip you clean from him, it struck at that which blocked your death,” Hastur said simply. “Arthur, you aren’t well enough to resume any of your duties. You will remain here.”

“Sure,” said Arthur, who clearly didn’t mind.

Poison? Poison? Not-John sputtered. That’s what was done? We were poisoned?

“You didn’t tell him?” said Hastur.

“I… he was already freaking out so badly,” Arthur said.

Freaking out—you neglect to tell me this, and then attempt to convince me we’re safe here? Not-John’s voice rose, building to a full-on bellow.

Hastur paused. “I am being requested. Remain here. You are safe, John.”

Bullshit!

Arthur sighed.

Hastur put him back down (so much more gently than he used to) and left, closing the doors.

You fucking liar, Not-John seethed the moment he was gone..

“Hey! I never lied to you!”

You did! It was poison? What next? What else haven’t you told me?

And yet another knock at the door.

Arthur and Not-John shouted at the same time: “What?”

Faroe opened it.

Her eyes were red, her cheeks blotchy; she carried a tray with numerous spoons, two small bowls, and a glass of water. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

And at her heels, Nibbles entered, like a guilty stormcloud.

“Oh, baby girl,” Arthur said, sliding right off the bed and heading for her.

Faroe handed the tray off to Nibbles before Arthur could knock the whole thing down and let him grab her in a tight, tight hug.

“I’m so sorry I scared you,” Arthur said, muffled.

She clung. Clung like a little monkey, clung like an almost-young-woman who knew too well the frailty of life. “I love you. You’re okay. Uncle Dagon knew what to do.”

“That he did,” Arthur said with a gentle laugh. “The Keeper told us she’d consulted someone—I’m glad it turned out to be him.”

Hmph, Not-John opined.

“I brought you something to eat,” Faroe said, pulling away just enough to look at Arthur, at the naked expression of relief and joy on his face and the cold, calculating expression in those golden eyes. “The medimages said it needed to be simple, so it’s just some broth and rice. I cooked it myself.” Her face set, grim. “I know it’s safe. But Nibbles volunteered to test all of your food from now on, too.”

Ha, said Not-John. Bad luck for you, because this asshole isn’t eating.

“Thank you,” said Arthur. “It looks delicious. I’ll eat it with pride.”

What!

“Don’t you know, John?” said Arthur, a twinkle in his unseeing eyes. “The secret ingredient is love.”

Faroe giggled.

Not-John was baffled silent.

“Nibbles will test it now, just to show—well, John, I guess,” Faroe said. “Do you want me to describe it? Or is he behaving?”

“It’s fine,” Arthur said.

It was almost comical as a thin tendril, little more than a root, picked up a spare spoon on the tray and gently scooped a bit of rice onto it, pulling it into a toothy maw that opened on the side of the goat’s face; the entire spoon disappeared with a crunch. Then Nibbles did it again, this time taking some of the broth (and another spoon).

“She’s probably able to do this just sniffing it, but… she’s really, really sorry she didn’t sniff your food beforehand.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Arthur said, his voice gentle and soft as he reached, blindly, with his left hand. “You’re a good girl,  Nibbles. Thank you.”

Don’t! Not-John yelped.

The goat pressed her nose into John’s hand, ruffling the sleeve of his shirt with her nose as she nuzzled into it.

“See? She knows you. You’re safe. But is it safe for her to be testing this?” said Arthur. “If they had a poison to target John, they might target her. I don’t like that.”

Nibbles gave him a magnificent look of deep offense, which unfortunately was wasted.

Faroe sighed. “Dad’s already setting up a pretty rigorous testing system. I think we’ll be okay, I just…” Tears filled her eyes again. “I just want to be sure.” She smiled weakly and wiped her nose on a handkerchief. “You can’t keep doing this, you know. Almost dying. Stop it. That’s a royal order.”

Arthur saluted her. “Yes, ma’am, order received.”

She jumped him for another hug. “I love you, dad,” she whispered in his ear.

This was all absurd. Every last bit. Maybe she’s the one who poisoned us! Not-John said. Trying to get rid of me!

Faroe rolled her eyes. “He’s really a jerk without your influence, isn’t he?”

Arthur laughed. “We’re good for each other. I wasn’t great before him, either.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” She stepped back, took the tray, and gave it to him. “Please eat.”

“For you, baby girl, I will.”

Fuck you both.

“John,” said Arthur evenly. “I told you. That’s the line.”

Fine. Fuck you, then. Just you.

Arthur nodded like that was fine and dandy and felt his way to the spoon. “Where’s the bowl?”

What? So you can re-infect yourself?

“The rice is right in front of you, a little right of center,” Faroe said—she gently took Arthur’s hand, lifting it, setting it down onto the surface of the bowl. “The broth is about five inches to your left. It will probably be easier just to sip it.”

“Thanks.”

Not-John lifted his hand as if to knock it all away.

“John!” snapped Arthur. “Do I really have to have Nibbles hold your damned arm down so I can eat?”

No, Not-John said sullenly.

“Nibbles wouldn’t lie to us,” Arthur said. “And Faroe definitely wouldn’t.”

Faroe stuck her tongue out.

Not-John gasped. She made a face!

“Good for her,” said  Arthur, getting a spoonful of soup.

At me!

“She’s nine, John.” He sipped carefully, testing his stomach.

“And a half,” she said. “Practically ten.”

“Growing so fast,” said Arthur a little thickly.

Not-John sniffled.

Arthur sighed. “You’re fine, John.”

Nobody’s listening to me, Not-John bemoaned.

“Be reasonable, and they will,” said Arthur, and let John contemplate on his own what reasonable might look like as he took another bite of soup.

#

Hastur came to Sunny’s call.

Parker gave him the spell.

Hastur recognized the etheric resonance.

He gave the trigger to the Keeper along with the second volume of the Leaves of Leng.

And then everything started moving so very fast.

(chapter six)

[bvannn]

Weekly Update January 5, 2024

I’m still recovering slowly. I never mentioned this because I want to be as vague as I can about my big congenital medical issue, but the surgery last week removed some tissue that affects my endocrine system, and now that it’s gone I’m having some problems with my mood. I have a medicine that corrects it, but I need to wait another week and a half to get my dosage adjusted, so all next week I’m going to be volatile which sucks. Stomach has seemingly gotten better though so hopefully that pain was just caused by those cysts and nothing else was wrong. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much tonight, I am loopy because of the endocrine stuff so I might go on too long. Anyway artstuffs.

I got a music project done. It was for Mav, and it was pretty small but I stayed up all night working on it. Working on it I discovered a big set of plugins that I got somewhere that look to be automatically doing some of that balancing I was worried about. I still need to double check what exactly it can do, since I’d like a widener plugin, but I don’t want to stack my brain over it if I already have one. I have a few ideas floating around for the next song thing, I’m a bit hesitant on continuing that vocal one I haven’t finished because I watched a bunch of videos today in the bad lyrics of the Wish soundtrack, and the lady kept bringing up cadence and pentameter which are concepts I know about but can’t hear. Like, pentameter is supposed to be the natural inflection a syllable has, but like whenever I hear it, I just hear the inflection of the vocalist. I think I’m overthinking it, since she used a writing scheme to explain it and I think the vocaloid software uses that same writing scheme so maybe I can learn through practice? Or I can just write lyrics that match the melody and call it good as long as the flow sounds natural because of subconscious understanding, like how I figured out how to do harmonies. Whatever. Music theory is hard but my stupid will and brute force is harder.

Other instrumental things I’ve been kinda thinking about include a little Zelda medley that I already recorded the melodies and stuff for, instrumental themes for my OCs because of course. And then I kinda want to just do a big fat medley that goes on for like an hour-ish because I love those kinds of medleys they’re great for car rides and stuff. And the final two I’m thinking about would be for animation memes: either an arcade beat-em-up style boss fight sounding theme, or a cover of a 90s pop-punk-rock (idk what genre) song. I think that one would be cool because I could use it as promotional stuff for a comic.

Oh yeah that O’Malley comic! I actually did good thumbnail work on that this week! I was going to do more today but mood and sleep schedule were wonky, plus I had a meeting this morning, so good chance I’ll put it off until tomorrow. But either way, chipping away at it, trying to watch more movies so I can get better at understanding shot comp, watched Kill Bill part 1 last night and wasn’t expecting it to be like, the best fucking movie ever? Like why does everyone talk about it like ‘eh it’s pretty good’ like no that shit was *Phenomenal*! Hoping part 2 lives up to the first, planning to watch it maybe tomorrow night? Definitely before I go back to uni. Anyway pitch comic is coming along nice, after it’s drawn I can either work on the rest of that story or a pitch for the secondary story I’ve been working on, depending on demand. Right now leaning towards series, since I have general synopsies for a couple more general ‘episodes’.

Also only done like one general drawing for comsheet practice hehehe it’s fine I can try others as time comes and is appropriate. Also did epithet stuff but not as much as I’d like. My original plan tonight was to work on TTRPG stuff but maybe I’ll do writing or thumbnailing instead. Or maybe both.

TRGA: got shot 1-4 done enough. Also got Jon tweened for 1-5. I need to clean him up and do his face and stuff. Tonight maybe if I’m having trouble focusing on the other stuff I’ll clean him up, I think I want to go back to that ‘one significant development a day’ schedule I was on for a bit, but pushed a bit further since I have better strategies now. I’ve also started the ‘every time I sit down and open clip studio I’m going to draw one (1) prop’ strategy so hopefully props won’t be as bad in the future either (even the ones I can’t just recycle). Tomorrow if I’m doing better I’ll try to get 1-5 Jon’s face done (and clean him up too if I don’t tonight) and maybe do another drawing. Maybe more epithet TTRPG stuff maybe not.

I’m trying to get my priorities back in order. 1) TRGA 2) Comic work 3) fix your commissions 4) other projects. Inspiration is fickle though so I’m really all over the place. My mood being volatilized is also not helping but I’ll keep going until my brain explodes. For now I’m able to plan out enough with time for sleep and stuff. I don’t know what’s exactly going to happen when classes start but I am taking *fewer* credits than normal so theoretically that means more time.

[artbymesa]

Not a mutual but I wanted to say I know it’s probably been cancelled/discontinued but I loved well still love your Undertale series Windows Of Reality back in the day with its unique premise and ideas that had it going and seeing a update back in its haydays is something I remember fondly all this time later ❤️

Aww, I appreciate this! ❤️ I'm sorry I wasn't able to complete it. If it gives some amount of closure, the biggest reason I stopped was that the concepts were just getting too ambitious and long running for a fan comic. I hit a wall in the writing because it played with the concepts of time travel so heavily, and at the time, it didn't hit me how important it was to iron out the early parts for the later parts to work properly. I kind of wrote myself into a corner and never found myself out of it. I should have completed much more of the script prior to putting ink on paper. Lesson learned, I suppose. The research I had to do on the source material got to be kinda overwhelming too 😅

But I owe a lot to Window of Reality. If I remember correctly, I think it was the first real comic I ever did to dip my toes into the medium and experiment with it, and I owe a lot of my artistic improvement to it!

The biggest of which being I used to scan in every single piece of art I did on paper, then color it digitally because I liked the texture of the real paper and pencil in my work. Digital lines felt too clean. When I started working on panels for WoR, it became a nightmare of collaging scanned in lineart (i have soo many sketchbooks still from it haha), so it pushed me to finally learn how to draw completely digitally. I improved significantly, and it made me so much faster once I got a hang of it!

I know it's little consolation, but if you promise to give it some grace and not to judge my years-old notes and rough, unfinished writing-- i do still have what i had left of the script if you're interested. There were some fun parts I never got a chance to get to in there. I just wasn't sure how to bridge that gap and make it there, haha

A lot of it might be scribbly and nonlinear nonsense, but I'm happy to share if anyone might find closure in it ❤️ maybe the community can grab some ideas from it, maybe not-- but at least it can exist out there in some capacity

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bUqrj04sxD2IQMg8JfOPr3O9ML2ZhOQ9/view?usp=drivesdk

[xeransisgd4]

Week 10: Critique & Writing Initiative #6

Critique

I can consider making the beginning even slower of a transition. I should take all sounds out at the end instead of leaving the background noises like wind/creek. Consider ending in black, or white, or keeping it brown since when a plant dies, it wilts into a dry brown.

Writing Initiative #6

1.Which piece did you present to the class today? How does it relate to the other pieces previously presented?

I presented my 4D piece. It follows the same obsession with the word "gradual" in the previous pieces. The 2D piece was about memories and the way time erodes them. The 3D piece was more about burnout and the wear and tear of a constant force, leading to a breaking point. This would be less about the outcome and more about the process it takes to get from point A to B. The frog in boiling water, how you can't notice it's changing until it's too late.

2. Describe 2–3 specific strengths your classmates found in your work and their reasons for identifying them.

I think the general consensus was that the concept worked with my word. There is a clear connection to drying up/gradual loss of moisture despite my veering off with kenopsia. It makes sense. Someone also liked the connection between the brown tones with a withered plant because it made sense with my theme.

3. Describe 1–2 specific ways your classmates thought you could improve this work going forward.

There seems to be varying opinions on the pacing of the transition. Someone said the beginning felt too quick while around the midpoint it started slowing down. I do want to perfect the pacing to be as unnoticeable as possible since the point is that you don't notice until it's gone. Maybe I can experiment with the timings and probably extend the video by another minute?

4. Consider the remaining outcome yet to be presented in a couple of weeks; why have you put it off the longest? Describe your reasons for presenting this outcome last.

The reflective eludes me. It got better after this critique though. I realize I don't have to connect it that much back into my process which freed me from the idea of it being a process book of some sort. That thinking was what kept me from starting it since I felt like everything would just devolve back into a fancier version of a process book.

5. Finally, you have now had a chance to present each of your projects (2D, 3D, 4D, Reflective) in process to the class. Produce an image of each one and describe how an aspect of your word is manifested in each piece.

2D: Time erodes memory like the sun bleaches a photograph. The piece shows one side before and after, drawing attention to the gradual loss that occurs over time.

3D: All things struggle with wear and tear. An eraser will disappear with time, a pencil will get shorter, and a string might snap under its load. Wear and tear is exclusive to prolonged use over time. It's impossible to perfectly fake the effects of it but I still try. The string struggles under the weight of the bottle that will eventually fall and crack open. If not today, then someday in the future.

4D: If a change happens over a long period of time, no one notices it happening. With nature, the fact that the environment degrades at such a slow pace means that it's hard to see it as a direct result of our actions. If I litter a little bit each day, one day I'll fill a lake with my trash. The fact that it's a gradual loss means it becomes imperceptible to me until it's too late. In this piece, bird calls and signs of biodiversity peter out into nothingness at a pace slow enough that it's hard to notice until they're already gone. It (hopefully) leaves you wondering, when did that happen? And how did it happen?

Reflective: I think I messed up somewhere because I didn't present this yet. I can still explain it, however. Translucent paper with the different definitions, interpretations, and directions I explored that block out the original definition with every new layer. A dilution of meaning, like a game of telephone.

[creature-wizard]

The New Age concept of ascension - what is it?

The concept of ascension is central to New Age belief, so you'll hear New Agers talking about it a lot. So what is it?

New Agers essentially believe that it's humanity's destiny to undergo "spiritual evolution" to a next level of existence. At this point in time, the popular belief is that our DNA - or at least the DNA of those who "download" "DNA upgrades" from Source will "shift to 5D" in the near future.

Despite its name, "5D" has nothing to do with mathematical dimensions. Instead, New Agers believe that matter exists in varying states of density, and the fifth density is essentially more ethereal than "3D," or the third density, which we presently live in.

Ascension is functionally the Christian rapture with a eugenicist twist. Where Rapture-believing Christians believe that if you'll spontaneously be translated to spirit form if you convert to (the right kind of) Christianity, New Agers believe that you'll essentially be spontaneously translated to spirit form if you get close enough to God, or Source.

Some people believe that New Agers don't think they have to do any work to ascend - but this really isn't true. Most of them that I've seen believe that they have to "raise their vibrational frequency" so they can connect to Source energy and receive these "downloads." It's functionally the same idea that in order to go to Heaven, you have to get right with God.

So what are the problems?

First of all, it's spiritual eugenics. They effectively believe that people who practice their form of spirituality literally have superior genetics to those who don't. Many believe that it's just nature, fate, God's will, or whatever you want to call it, that those who don't or can't "upgrade" will essentially die off.

Because New Age doesn't have any central authority, beliefs surrounding this vary wildly, and there are relatively benign beliefs about what ascension will entail; EG, Earth will split into two timelines - one where the people who ascended get to live, and one where the people who didn't ascend get to keep reincarnating until they finally do get to ascend and join the other Earth.

Unfortunately, there are also those who believe that climate change is not a man-made phenomena, but rather is part of Earth's ascension process (they believe that Earth is going to ascend to 5D, too), and that related deaths are meant to purge the world of the unevolved.

Another concerning belief is that of "ascension symptoms," where symptoms that could potentially be very medically concerning are dismissed as a natural part of the ascension process. Couple this with a strong mistrust of actual medicine and real doctors (New Age is tied up in conspiracy theories of all kinds), and you've got a recipe for disaster.

One other thing the idea of ascension has in common with the Rapture is the number of times it's been supposed to happen, but failed to materialize. Lots of New Agers expected it to happen on December 21st, 2012. When it didn't, many rationalized it by saying that a consciousness shift had still taken place, and that this consciousness shift was important in preparing the world for actual ascension later on. Basically, it was pretty typical failed prophecy rationalization stuff.

New Agers continue to draw in people who are simply unaware of the movement's long, long history of failed predictions. The average person isn't going to go back and comb through 50+ years of New Age literature to see just how long they've been making extravagant predictions that just never manifest, let alone realize that all of these other failed predictions means the current predictions aren't all that likely to come true, either. If someone looks into it, there's a high chance they'll accept the rationalizations and believe that the predictions actually apply to their own near future, because "your generation is the special generation" is a powerful ego trap.

So yeah, in a nutshell, ascension is just the Rapture for people who believe in spiritual eugenics; and just like the regular Rapture, it has a long history of being involved in failed predictions.

[trashboatprince]

Normally, I tend to keep quiet here on theories, but sometimes I like to indulge in them. The Henry is a perfect Bendy one is a mixed bag, but I can’t deny I've played around with the concept in the past. (I used to have an au for it, but someone stole my ideas and I left the au alone because it upset me to work on it.)

And since the theory is making the rounds again, I decided to write up an idea that's been rolling about in my skull for a while, well before the release of the new trailer, and now is a good chance to write up the idea.

Warning: mild anxiety attack

Please note that this is all headcanon based, since the game hasn’t been released yet, haha. Also, there’s some art included! 

On with the fic!

--

“It’s amazing how much stuff is down here.” Audrey commented to the little devil that walked alongside her. “I mean, it’s one thing to find art supplies and some equipment, but a whole little community? A car?”

She laughed a bit in disbelief, and Bendy couldn’t help but to laugh with her, his laughter whistles and wheezes, it was all he could do, he wasn’t allowed a voice.

No, he didn’t have one.

Bendy never talked in the cartoons, hence the lack of a voice. 

Yes? Yes.

He grinned, whistling a jaunty tune as the two of them continued to walk the halls, on a mission that Bendy hadn’t paid too much attention to. Audrey listened, she’ll know what to do, he’ll help however he can. 

“Oh! I recognize this!” 

Bendy stopped, blinking, and looked up at something that caught Audrey’s attention on a wall. 

Like many of the hallways, there were posters and framed items, drawings, writings, and scattered sheets of paper peppering the wooden boards. This one was no different, though whatever was framed seemed to have the human’s attention. Bendy made a questioning sound and she looked down.

“Ah, well, in my office, in the-the real world, I have this framed animation cell! It’s an original, I don’t think it was ever actually in a cartoon, a special cell as a gift from Mr. Drew.”

Any time Bendy heard Joey’s name, he felt a twinge in his chest, he hated it.

“The cell’s always been in my office, for as long as I can remember. It’s like a little bit of motivation, you know?” She was smiling at whatever was behind the glass, the lights of the hall reflecting off of it, making it hard for Bendy to get a clear look. He didn’t like being short, made it hard to see some stuff.

“I wonder what it’s doing here.” Audrey frowned. “I bet Wilson brought it down here to taunt me or something.” She sighed and Bendy squeaked, reaching for the frame. “Oh, do you want to look?”

He nodded and she removed it from the wall. “Now, be careful, this was a gift to Mr. Drew from an old friend of his.”

Bendy nodded again and carefully took the frame from her, grinning as he finally got a look at what she had been staring at.

Oh.

It was an animation cell, there was no denying that, including a background to go along with it. The cell contained Boris, Alice, and Bendy himself, looking so happy as the trio walked down a path together.

There was writing down in the corner of the inner frame, protecting the cell and background.

The writing was clear, familiar.

Congratulations on your success! 

Your Best Pal,

H-

Hen-

Henry S-

Wait, he knew this name. Knows this name.

Why does-

Who am I now?

“Bendy?”

He could hear Audrey’s voice calling from somewhere far away, muffled by what sounded like rushing water ink in his head.

Alright Joey, I’m here...

A hand was on the frame, gently taking it from his own and he looked up, confused, alarmed. “Bendy, are you alright? Your eye is...”

Blinking, he touched at the side of his face, his fingertips came back coated in runny ink. 

Why did she call me Bendy?

What’s going-

He blinked again, rubbing at his leaking eye. Huh, Bendy frowned, confused as to what just happened. He looked up at Audrey, smiling at her, why was she looking concerned? 

“Right... should we get moving?” She asked, giving him an awkward smile.

He squeaked, his grin wide. He must have spaced out or something, he didn’t remember anything of what just happened. She put a framed image on the wall and took his hand, the two of them continuing down the hall. 

--

It’s not a trashboatprince au without Henry and/or Bendy having a weird eye.