#I'm still crafting for the most part over drawing as well!

[sysig]

Ranking Pepper’s hammocks A-F now that he’s made five of them

First - B - Not a bad start! But why did he put it on top of the pre-built nest. It is literally right there. Overall, good protection and well reinforced just... You didn’t have to make a new one, Pepper

Second - C - No reinforcement, no safety net, out in the middle of the top of the enclosure, extremely visible and see-through, which is great for me because I can see him napping - very cute, but Pepper, your safety and security!

Third - A - The molt hammock! Thick webbing, obscured under moss, easy to overlook and well protected! But he stayed in there for a literal week and scared me >:0

Fourth - D - Made a tiny, very sparse hammock in the cattails for one night and has since abandoned it. Why even bother at that point? He still fit in the first two hammocks!

Fifth - A - The best napping hammock so far! In the opposite corner from the pre-built so not directly on top of an easier solution, closer to the light source in the evening, decently thick and secure, and in a corner so he’s not just hanging out in the direct middle of the enclosure - protected on two sides! Bonus points for having caught a little video of him doing the booty dance construction :)

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

The Facade of You

I wanted to write him off putting and cocky at the same time, but that sure is a fine line. Reader is a bit of a spitfire when they probably should keep their mouth shut. (And I love that) ~2.3k words

When the Arkham Knight wants something, he gets it. Driven. Focused. Torrent in his mission and desires. You knew it from the moment you met him. Knew it the second you swung the aluminum baseball bat at his head, and he stopped your swing without even a flinch.

This was going to be a problem. Well, more of a problem than it already was.

Most of Gotham had evacuated because of whatever insane plan Scarecrow had crafted. Most, but not all. You had shored yourself up in your apartment, ready to ride out whatever happens from the comfort of your own home.

Was it the smartest decision? Maybe not. But you had survived blizzards in July, streets lined with living plants, and some guy who liked to run around hosting tea parties while wearing a top hat. So, you think you could be forgiven if you thought you could handle some threats of fear gas and anarchy.

And honestly, you probably could have. If not for the figure wearing armor worth more than your whole apartment breaking through your window.

On any other day, you probably would have screamed at the sight of the stranger standing in your living room. But tonight, there's no neighbors to call the cops, no vigilantes with time to spare patrolling the streets to hear you cry for help.

So you swung. Swung your bat right for his weird, glowing helmet with all your strength.

His fingers caught and curled around the metal before you even registered him moving. Everything seemed to go still, your instincts practically screaming at you to flee. You didn't need to see his face to know that he's smirking at you, head tilting like what you did was interesting, but pointless.

The silence stretches as you try to tug the bat from his hold, but the man doesn't even seem to move. No, he only starts to laugh at you, laughs like this is the last he expected, like the entire situation is ridiculous.

It draws a scowl to your face. So what if he's covered head to toe in armor and weapons? He broke into your apartment to what? Revel in your misery? Make fun of you? And you're just supposed to take that?

You open your mouth to confront him, to demand answers, when he laughs again, low and still full of disbelief, "Of course, of course you're still in this damned city. I shouldn't be surprised. Always in places you shouldn't be, aren't you."

He punctuates his words with a low, long drawl of your name, the letters falling off his tongue and through the modulator of his helmet as if he's said them a million times.

He drops his hold on the bat, but it hardly matters when your own grip starts to slack at the sound of your name, "Who are you," You demand, every hair on edge as the stranger starts to pace your apartment, almost as if he's looking for something to occupy himself with.

"You aren't supposed to be here, you know," he murmurs, picking up a framed photo, "It's not part of the plan. But I suppose I'm to blame for not expecting this of you."

You step forward, anger clouding your better judgment at the sight of him picking over your things like they're his own, "Put that down."

He turns his head towards you, lifting the photo to your field of vision, "This? It's hardly important."

You grit your teeth at the sight. It is important. More than he could possibly understand. Yours and Jason's smiling face shines from the picture behind the glass, your figures illuminated by the rare summer sun Gotham gets. It's one of the only pictures you have of him, some of the only evidence he was ever in your life.

You lunge forward without warning, dropping your bat in a bid to grab the frame. He easily side steps your desperate attempts. Something seems to shift in the air as he practically purrs, "whoops," and drops the photo from between his fingers.

The breath leaves your lungs as the glass shatters, leaving the photo in a pile of shards and broken wood. Your gaze snaps back to him, outraged, "Who do you think you are? How dare–"

"You can call me The Arkham Knight," he cuts in simply, stepping on the shards– on the photo of Jason– like it's less than nothing.

"What do you want," You hiss, biting back insults over how insane you think he sounds. You match his step forward with your own backward motion, keeping space between you.

"To make Batman pay," he drawls, honest and never slowing his steps towards you, even as you rapidly run out of space between you and the wall.

You shift your free hand to your pocket, trying to fumble for your phone without him noticing, "Then why are you here? I'm not Batman."

He finally stops stalking your every step as your back hits the wall, lingering only an arms length away from you, "No," he relents, "You're not Batman. But he does feel responsible for you."

"He feels responsible for everyone," You protest, fingers tapping blindly across your phone. Your voice shakes, even as you try to hide it. But it's hard not to be intimidated by the man towering over you, by the unblinking whites of his mask shining on your face.

He sighs, like whatever game he's playing suddenly went dull, "It's a shame you were here. Really. It would have been better if you'd left the city."

You press send on your phone. At least, you hope the (ideally) coherent message you're trying to get to Babs without seeing is sending, "Are you going to kill me?"

He recoils like the idea repulses him. It's the first bit of proof you've gotten that he even has feelings outside of whatever front he's been putting up. But he settles back into that lazy, uncaring pose, nodding towards your pocket, "Go ahead, sweet thing. Call Barabra. Call Dick. Call Bruce, even. They won't help you. Even if it wasn't such a busy night, you've never been their priority."

You tense, frozen under his unwavering gaze and the revelation of his words. His jabs don't bother you. He's clearly trying to get under your skin. But, he– The Arkham Knight– knows. Your mind races as your breathing shallows. He knows about Batman– everyone. But how much does he know? How much could he know? Their identities, that secret, it always felt untouchable.

It nearly makes you tremble. Is that why he's here? To get back at them somehow through you? It hardly makes sense if it's true. Jason's the one that cared about you– that wanted you to be okay.

His words feel like a trap. The idea that he wants you to call for help is just another game he's letting you play. But you pull out your phone anyway, your eyes never really leaving him even as you dial a number with trembling fingers.

The line rings. And rings. Then, "Hi, it's Barbara–"

"Babs, I need–" You start, only to be cut off by the continued message.

"I can't answer the phone right now, but leave a message after the tone, and I'll be sure to get back to you!"

Your heart drops, and you don't get the chance to consider your options before the Arkham Knight is plucking your phone out of your hands to end the call. He tosses your only hope of getting help towards your couch.

His voice is mocking, when he speaks again, "See? They can't even save themselves. How could you think they'd bother with you?"

"Why are you here," You ask instead, desperate to ignore the growing pit in your stomach, the fear creeping up your spine.

He hums, and reaches up to grab your chin, turning your face this way and that to study you. "A lapse in judgment. Curiosity. A weakness for the past. It hardly matters," he mutters, more for himself than you, "What matters is what to do with you."

"You could leave me here," you suggest quickly, grabbing at his wrist to keep him still, "Pretend you never saw me. I won't get in the way. I'm– I'm no vigilante. I won't be any trouble."

He scoffs, dropping his hand from your face, "This city would eat you alive. You can't handle what's coming."

"And what's it to you," You snarl, sounding braver that you feel and driven by the annoyance course through your veins. You're more than capable of taking care of yourself. (Just not necessarily against military trained rouges)

That seems to snap him to attention, and you regret your words immediately. You've essentially given him a reminder that you mean as much to him as the photo he left broken on the floor. And if he wanted to send a message to Batman, it would be easy to start with you.

"It's nothing to me," he hisses back, but even the modulator in his helmet doesn't hide the tightness– the near lie– of his voice, "You're in over your head, doll. If anything, you should be grateful I'm showing you the truth."

Your blood runs cold, your tone sharpens, and your eyes narrow. He doesn't have the right. Jason's the only one that's ever nicknamed you doll. His eyes always seemed to shine when he said it. "Don't call me that," You warn, words dripping with malice.

He honestly snorts at you, unimpressed by your threat, "What's wrong, doll? Hit a sore spot?"

You throw yourself at him, aiming a fist for his dumb helmet as your heart pounds in your ears. If he's going to make an example of you, use you against Batman, you're not going to lay back and just let him pick at your wounds.

He catches you like he expected it, hauling you into the air as you scream obscenities and curses, kicking and hitting your fists against his armor until he dumps you unceremoniously onto the couch. You scramble for your discarded phone, and he's quick to pin you down, his knee braced to your stomach to keep you from moving as he knocks your phone out of reach.

He huffs as if this is just a minor setback, reaching down to fix the wrinkles forming in your clothes every time you struggle, "And here I thought you liked being called doll."

"Not by you," You practically spit, all rationally thrown out the window as you continue to squirm. You bring your nails up to his arm, trying to dig into any weak spots in his armor for a chance to escape, to make him hurt.

"Only by me, sweet thing," he coos, and your world stills to a halt as he clicks the faceplate of his helmet back.

Jason Todd is grinning at you. It's not quite right. His eyes are wilder than you remember, his smile too forced, too tense. There's more scars across his skin than you recall there being. A stark white brand stands out on his cheek. But it's him. Undeniably him.

"Now where'd all your fight go," he questions, fingers trails up to rest on your throat, "no need to look all surprised, doll."

All you can offer is his name falling from your lips, eyes wide, and face shell-shocked.

He tuts, fingers flexing ever so slightly against your pulse, "Is that really all you have to say?"

"They told me you were dead," you choke out, unable to fight the tears threatening to well in your vision.

"They lied," he says simply, as if that answers anything. He lifts his hand from your throat to press his thumb against your lower eyelid, the light pressure forcing your tears to spill onto the fabric of his glove.

"Jason–" You try again, wanting answers, comfort, anything you can latch onto.

He only shushes you, "I don't blame you, sweet thing, for falling for it. That's just what they do. They lie. Change the narrative to fit their twisted perceptions. But I'll help you. I'll tell you everything you need to know. All you need to do, is come with me."

It's a bad idea. You feel it down to your bones. Jason, your Jason, isn't the one digging his knee into your stomach, isn't the one collecting your tears on his glove like they're a trophy. But he is Jason, and he's only ever done what's best for you. So going with him has to be right, has to be what you're supposed to do.

You nod. What else could you do? How could you even think to deny him when his face lights up in the shadow of how he used to smile at you?

He stands, and it takes every bit of strength you have not to surge forward and beg him not to when he clicks his helmet back shut. The Arkham Knight– Jason– offers you a hand, and you don't need a second thought to take it.

You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. He said it himself, he didn't plan for you to even be here. But his grip is steady in yours, and he keeps turning his head to check on you as he leads you across your apartment and to the window.

Relief clouds your mind, the idea that everything could be okay as long as he's back. So you follow him, don't ask questions even as he leads you down the fire escape and towards a suspiciously armored truck.

You don't press, even as he barks orders at the driver that's dressed more like a soldier than a chauffeur.

You let him tell you that you made the right choice. That he's going to fix all of this, that you being here will help in the end. You let him guide you through Gothams ruined streets, far away from your home, from where the memory of him is shattered on the floor.

And if you left your phone ringing over and over again on your couch in a frantic attempt to reach you, you're far too blinded by the echo of the boy you're chasing to care.

[deesblanketfort]

Sick and regressed ☆´ˎ˗ ︶︶︶ 

Well, while I'm writting this I'm bedridden (likely with covid), and for some reason I really want to spend my sick days regressed and take something good out of it at least.

Getting comfy!

🧦: Pajamas time! Is there anything more regressor-coded than cozy printed pajamas, an animal kigurumi or onesie? I'd say no. And since I'm staying on bed, I'm surely wearing those all day long.

🛏️: Bed setup! When you're bedridden, a bed table ends up being really useful in case you want to do stuff that requires a flat surface. If you have one of those, lucky you! I, however had to improvise with a smooth wooden board standing on my lap, therefore any kind of long, resilient and flat surface can do the job just fine.

🧦: Blanket fort! Alternatively, if you're able to roam around your house or have someone to help, you can build a blanket fort over your bed or a comfy surface to stay in!

🛏️: Sick gear! Runny nose? Bring tissues. Got a fever? Make a cold damp towel for your forehead. Tummy aches or localized pain? Make a hot water compress. And make sure to keep track of the meds you're taking, of course.

🧦: Get your plushies! Since what I got is very contagious close contact with anyone is out of the table, but my stuffies are completely immune to sickness and ready to cuddle! (I'll have to wash them afterwards to disinfect them though)

Games and activities!

🎮: Viddy games! Either on computer, phone or a console (handheld preferred), videogames are perfectly stationary and don't require much movement from your part.

🖍️: Table games! Table games are also stationary and can be played right from your bed if you have a bed table, although most games need other people to play with you, your plushies can serve this purpose.

🎮: Play pretend! Playing pretend can be limited when you're bedridden, but there are some scenarios you're perfectly able to do! Such as pretending you're a shop owner and your stuffies are the clients, pretending your stuffies are your doctors/nurses taking care of you, or vice versa. Things like tea parties and pretend schools are still on the table!

🖍️: Arts and crafts! Being sick won't stop me from wanting to draw and color, since I can do it from my bed anyways! Aside from drawing and coloring, I might as well do some collage and paper craft, just might need help to clean up afterwards.

🎮: Cartoon time! No better opportunity to (re)watch your favorite cartoons than when you're sick, bedridden and bored, right? And since this brings me comfort, here are some cartoon episodes that center on being sick: Bumpy and the Wise Old Wolfhound (Bluey), Steve Gets The Sniffles (Blues Clues), Bear Flu (We Bare Bears), Doctor Daisy M.D (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse), Arthur's Chicken Pox (Arthur)

Snack time!

🍼: Hot drinks! Specially if you're with a cold or a sore throat in general, hot drinks such as hot cocoa and tea are perfect for warming up an icky throat.

🧁: Spices for a sore throat! Like mint, honey, ginger and lemon. I'm sure there's plentiful of drinks you can make using these!

🍼: Give preference to healthy snacks and meals! Like fruits and veggies, yogurt, noodles, soup or sandwiches. Bonus points if they're arranged in a fun shape (animal, plant, star, etc)!

🧁: Keep your appetite in check! It's pretty common to lose your appetite when sick, therefore I'd say it's ideal to keep your meals smaller (and sometimes eat more often) than usual.

Taking care of yourself!

🧸: Stay hydrated! Water is always good, and if you're sick you likely need it more than usual, drinking from sippy cups, baby bottles, straw cups or any kind of fun themed cup is usually more fun and encouraging than boring adult cups.

🧶: Keep your temperature in check as well! Besides from checking if you have a fever ever so often, it's also good to keep yourself warm with blankets and heating if your body feels cold, or alternatively, turning on fans and using lighter sheets instead of blankets if you're too hot.

🧸: Beware the germs! If you got a contagious disease (like me), make sure to properly wash and disinfect anything you bring to your mouth such as pacis, teethers, bottles and cutlery before and after using them. Plus, it's important to wear a mask or ask others to wear a mask when near you as well.

🧶: Resting is key! Some of these days I'm too tired to do anything above, and I'd rather just nap the whole day, and that's okay! Sometimes being sick means not being able to do anything at all and it's important to have your extended napping time to get better.

[florsial]

you should totally talk about ur lily more😔 (pleasepleaplepleasepleaspeleaapleaase)

Sigh, I have a very love-hate relationship with Lily with how some of her fans can get. Unfortunately, I did post about her at some point but took it down. Truthfully, I do love her in my own personal way.

Anyways, here's some headcanons:

-She's from Spain and was raised Catholic. Her family moved to the UK and unlike Petunia, Lily settled kinda well while Petunia wasn't used to the sudden change in environment. They moved when Lily was 10 and Petunia was 12.

-I feel like people will hate me for this, but I think her friendship with Severus was one of the most important ones. First friend-first love kinda of thing. They were each other's first person and even when they part ways, Lily will still feel fond of him even when they both wronged each other (because there is no way in hell two lonely teens weren't gonna hurt each other one way or another). Modern AU version of them is just two teenage girls who don't know where the boundaries of romantic-platonic end and begin which causes a lot of weird feelings and toxicity (don't ask how I know that)

-She's like one of those people who are like "Stop doing that, you're making me stressed", and the other person just placed a book in a different place. There is always a certain way she likes things done because she feels like works better, so if another way is introduced, she will be skeptical about its efficiency

-I don't see her reading fiction books all that much. She would much prefer biographies to draw her life inspirations from, literature essays to validate her internal points, and poems for small readings to just relax with. I think if she would read nonfiction, they would definitely have an overall message that she obsesses over. However, I think she would LOVE magazines.

-Not all that into movies, I don't think she would have the patience to watch them.

-We as a fandom must never forget her skill for potions. I think in the muggle world, she was very into chemistry (I've always found this funny stereotype about religious people not liking stuff like chemistry)

-Much more easily agitated during the war. Her head was constantly filling with regrets and a back-and-forth desire to run back to Petunia or stay with the Order. Once Harry was born, she kinda had this melancholy look about her, she won't be able to return or try to make amends with her sister for a long long time, or if she's even able to. At every meeting, she had a frustrated look in her eye but when she was pregnant/after Harry's birth, she just looked like she was reluctantly accepting a terrible fate. She's happy with the family she's crafted for herself but also misses when she didn't have to go through the loneliness of making one for herself because she had Petunia and that was more than enough for Lily.

-I don't think she regrets helping muggles at all. That's not what I'm saying. I'm more in the thinking that she wanted to the comfort of her own family in a such difficult time. Jealously when Regulus dies, Sirius can finally mourn and put his family to rest while Lily fears for her family's life every day as they live, living in regret and feeling like an outcast. James and his parents and her desire for her mother when she's pregnant, yes Effie is kind, but she isn't Lily's mom. Remus has the comfort of knowing his family is safe because Lyall is a wizard, and the same can go for Peter. Lily's family probably doesn't even know what was happening.

-All that anger and frustration kinda boils over and I WISH that JK Rowling made her more angry before her death. Lily's life was unfair! She deserved to yell and scream, plea for her son's life but also cuss out Voldemort. Screaming and crying (literally), shaking with fear but also anger, and I know, female characters can be soft/sensitive/emotional, it's not a bad thing. It's just I wish she was more angry/a mess because she was seen as a witty, sharp-tongued girl! This stereotypical fierce redhead! I would've been fine with her simply pleading for her son's life even in the most pathetic way (no shame) but her personality was established as being very fierce by JK Rowling!! But this could honestly be just me and yes, I know, situations change people sometimes. I just wished there was more anger, or maybe I'm angry on her behalf lol

-Teenage Lily is the helpless romantic, the girl who reads real-life love stories to prove love is real, the girl who cheers her boyfriend on the field, and the girl with gum and finished homework notes that could be given to anyone who needed them. But 20-21 year old Lily the tired woman who cried for her mother when she had her first child, the tired woman who wanted her sister's hugs again, the tired woman with sickly green eyes and moved too slowly for a woman in her early 20s, and the tired woman who watched everyone like a hawk at Order meetings that talked of more death. She sits in the corner, the chair seemingly too big for her, or anyone for that matter, and watches with frustrations simmering under her eyes. Sometimes give a cutting remark that Sirius laughs to.

[riggedbones]

ok now that chapter 2 of my fic is out I can finally share nearly everything consequence related I've been drawing over the last two months. so let's start with my design process!

it's probably pretty obvious, but I wanted consequence's design to pretty closely mirror loop's. I don't want to go into all of the reasoning behind what I decided to keep similar and what I decided should be distinct (some of it is spoilers for my fic), but generally I kept a lot of the more general design elements that seem to be a result of whatever the fuck wish craft did to make loop Like That. loop is naked? consequence is naked. loop has an objecthead? consequence has an objecthead. loop has a shape on their chest? consequence has a shape on its chest.

this all being said, I did also want to make sure that consequence was distinct. of course. my initial focus was pretty resolutely on the objecthead, as you can see in my first page of concept sketches, but I did explore some other elements early on as well!

you can also see my first concept sketch for odile's death screen, and just a smidge for the looping animation that is something i might also animate for a chapter, who knows.

more drawings and discussion under the cut, i'm realizing this is getting a bit long.

i had the node object head concept on that first page, but it was definitely something that needed iteration. which is where this page came in. i settled on the diamond shaped geode at around this point too, but was still struggling a tad on what to do with the general body texture. this was also, clearly, WAY too many squares. my beta kris told me as much.

i may be an animator but by god i love making my designs as animation unfriendly as possible sometimes. still wouldn't call consequence animation friendly at all, but i've done a lot since to cut back on the sheer volume of squares.

this was my second pass in an attempt to cut down on the complexity, still way too many squares, but this is when i started drawing the head as a foreground later of nodes with a more abstract cloud of squares behind. for the most part, just shading behind the foreground layer is still how i draw the head traditionally.

aaand then i started playing around digitally and i realized i did not like how that looked digitally. these are both doodles i did via mouse (for the second one i traced an odile sprite to help with proportions), so they're a bit looser in general, but this exercise generally let me know that i needed to slightly rethink how i was going to express the idea digitally.

because this, the final talksprite design i landed on, looks more complicated, but between the smaller amount of foreground squares and the fact that the ones in the background were just made with the rectangle tool, it's honestly not that bad. a pain to replicate? sure! but id5 reused loop's head shape for all of their art in the game, so i can do that too.

i think i solidified the idea of its body having strata before the talksprite (not sure which doodles that would be), but doing the talksprite really helped solidify the idea of a gradient in my mind, and also is where i decided on the textural element. i also decided to look at a reference image for the geode. that helped a Lot.

...i still do like drawing a more simplified consequence though. the key in my eyes is to just get the general shape of the head down, make sure you get a few of the squares floating in the air, and emphasize the nodes around its eyes. also make sure the eyes are offset vertically, it REALLY helps with the character of the design, sometimes i'll doodle a connie quence and think it looks a bit mid, move the eye on its left up, and then boom it's fine.

or you can just not do that because you drew it 2 crumbs big lol

[loopdile]

loopdile so real. i have a Vision of both siffrin and loop being Deeply Deeply Closeted Repressed Transfem and having gender envy over odile and i feel like that'd do Something to the Dynamic. Something......... Something........................... well i'm not successfully envisioning it but maybe YOU are?

i am positively plagued by loopdile gender visions!!! maybe not the exact same as you're thinking but i think you will enjoy them. walk with me, anon, through the garden of my loop gender headcanons. it's kind of a big garden but we'll get to the odile part eventually i promise.

Before they were Siffrin, Siffrin had their gender on lock: something transfem, but also tied to unique cultural elements in some way, either the specific identity or the way of thinking about it or just the particular set of presentation options. Perhaps they even started fantasy HRT! But then they forget everything, obviously, including their identity and transition plans. They decide pretty quickly that they're not a man, but none of the alternatives feel exactly correct either; if their previous identity was presented as an option, maybe it would click and they'd settle into it pretty fast, but unfortunately that is literally impossible.

So, no clear goals in mind. And because of his forgotten past, continued memory problems, and constant traveling, Siffrin starts to really value the few things he can count on to stay consistent. He'd rather wear his comfortable hat and cloak than leave them behind in favor of anything more gendered. He'd rather stick with his familiar body than risk changing it. Still, maybe there are some changes he'd be happier in the long run to have made... but the process would be stressful, and he's got enough stressful things to worry about already!

But then we get to Loop. Who has already been changed, suddenly and irrevocably and so very, very accidentally. They are not Siffrin anymore, they do not have the hat and cloak, they aren't even human. They don't even really remember who they were pre-loops. There is no familiarity for them to cling to; instead, they're desperate to find things they can control, things they can change, proof that the world moves forward and they're in charge of their place in it. The motivation that Siffrin lacked, Loop now has in spades!

However, their negative feelings are more intense as well. They struggle to face real stakes, to put effort into anything too complicated, to try anything that might disappoint them. They take risks, yes, but not about things they care about; they take risks because they don't care. And they have a lot of other things going on, too, both practically and psychologically, so gender isn't their immediate priority. "Who and what am I?" is a very difficult question for them right now on multiple levels, a difficult question with only difficult answers.

But, starting with the practical: wearing clothes is an easy way to look and feel a little bit more normal, right? So they experiment, and they decide that dresses are just similar enough to the cloak to be comfortable, but distinct enough to not be as emotionally fraught. And they like them in a frivolous way that Siffrin was never willing to lean all the way into. Siffrin didn't put much thought or energy into his appearance, but Loop's inhuman form is a constant issue, so they might as well dress it in a way they like! Something good to balance out the bad, since they can't be neutral any longer.

And of course they think about body craft, though in a different context from most people. Even the nearly-human parts of their body are lacking detail, without all the right functions behind the form, and then other parts aren't human at all. Their body feels wrong, distracting, constricting. They don't understand how it works, and it draws attention they don't want, and it's not them. And yet, isn't it? Even if they'd been put back into a Siffrin body again, they aren't Siffrin anymore, either. Loop is what the loops made them. They want to change their body, to make it something they can be comfortable in, but they can't. Because body craft is a method of changing flesh and blood and bone, and Loop is not made of such human stuff anymore.

So we've got Loop. Trying to find themself, and maybe succeeding in some ways, but stymied or uncertain in others. Desperate to change, but scared to hope. To make a long story short, they join back up with the party, which brings its own set of problems, and yet... it's also a step towards fixing some of their problems, too. Most relevant to our post, here: Odile is a craft expert with a unique set of experiences. She's got a wide foundation of knowledge, since she's familiar with all three main craft types. She used to be part of Ka Bue's underground body-crafting scene, where she not only crafted her own body but also helped and taught other people; and unlike in Vaugarde, where Houses provide resources and education, Odile and her peers had to do their own research and experiments, develop their own techniques. She even has some knowledge of wish craft from Siffrin, and the way she stopped Siffrin from looping proves that she's unusually good at analyzing and adapting to new forms of craft.

So once Loop's dissatisfaction with and ignorance regarding their own physical form comes to Odile's attention, of course she offers to help. To see if she can figure out what their body is made of, and how it works, and hopefully, in what ways it can be changed.

And this dynamic with her... it's totally different from her relationship with Siffrin, both pre-loops and post. And Loop has always admired her, and here she is, talking about the confidence and determination with which she changed her own body, not without fear or frustration but not letting herself be slowed down by them, either. Taking her fate into her own hands and refusing to be anyone other than herself. And Loop used to feel that Odile understood them best, and losing that connection felt like the end of the world, but here she is, still! Observant and caring as ever. Dedicated to figuring them out again. Unflinching as she sees them for the strange thing they currently are, but equally unshakable in her insistence that they do not have to stay exactly as they are.

So Odile helps them figure out their body. Helps them with the craft itself, too, but even more than that — through both encouragement and example, she helps them be brave enough to genuinely try. To ask themself what they really want. To strike a balance between Siffrin's complacent hesitation and Loop's miserable desperation. To experiment, and face both the chance of failure and the chance of success with head held high. To hope.

Odile is not one for platitudes and empty positivity, after all. If she says something's possible, then it is, or she will make it so, one way or another, despite any setback. Isn't she proof? She remade herself, and she can remake Loop, too. Changing them, slowly and carefully and so very, very deliberately. Loop will never be human again, but they can decide who they are and become themself.

[cherrycherryking]

Wally x gardener puppet? Idk the concept to me seems cute,,,,

the concept is SO cute!! I know it was just supossed to be wally x reader but i looove concepts for welcom home characters!! like, how would you interact with the neighboorhood? what stuff would you teach?

┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴

wally darling x gen!reader (platonic or romantic!) + drawings

Gardener Puppet Reader

────────────

✧You're a puppet like Wally or Julie! Your little house is mostly took over by the garden behind it, and most of your segments take place in your work table.

✧You talk about...well, plants! Easy ways to start kids on gardening with plants like beans or herbs. Your segments crossover to recycling and all things around taking care of the planet.

✧For this reasons you would often appear with Frank when it got to talking about insects or more technicalities about plants like bees or their life cycle! With arts and crafts to reuse trash Julie and Wally would accompany you :)

✧When not in your house you could be seen taking care of the flowers around the neighborhood, stocking food on Howdy's store or bringing fresh produce for Poppy's baking segments!

✧Look!! Its You!!! (or just an outfit idea)

✧Only gray so you can decide the color palette. I also thought it would be funny for you to be a scarecrow but that i leave up to you.

───────────.★..─╮ Wally x Reader part!! ─..★.───────────╯

✧As said before, Wally would appear in your segments about recycled projects

✧I like to think that Wally is really good at all types of paintings but not so much with arts and crafts.

✧Everytime hes your co-host the camera will be looking at you doing an explanation of the steps, cut to wally and:

✧Home has pretty white flowers outside, so you take care of them :) A good couple of episodes start with Wally looking out the windows or getting out of Home and saying finding you there!!

✧One day you decided to gift your friends some pretty plants, and for Wally you decided on an Aloe.

✧He's so so happy with the gift!! He promises to take good care of it.

✧It was nothing really, Wally has always been a dear person to you. He was so calm and smooth and charming that you couldn't help but want to hang around him all of the time.

✧And it seemed he thought the same about you,

✧Your patience with his mess ups, your sweet words of encouragement, the care you took of Home so its flowers and bushes were always healthy made his heart melt!

✧That's why he looked so sad when you opened the door after you heard his knocking.

✧"I am so sorry y/n, the plant you gifted me died :("

✧He kept apologizing but you stopped him, telling Wally it was okay! It wasn't yours but his, and you didnt felt angry or anything.

✧"Aren't you mad at me?" "No, of course not! If anything, i'm more curious about how it got like that..."

✧You gave Wally an Aloe plant on purpose. He was a little uhhhh lost some times! head empty, so you choose a plant that would do just fine with little care.

✧But it seem he took too much care of the Aloe. It got like this thanks to overwatering.

"Its okay" you told him, holding his face on your hands. "You just worried too much for the little guy."

"Oh- haha, I ruined because I overdid it?"

"C'mon! You didn't ruined it. Lets go to the back, i'm pretty sure we can still save the aloe. This time i'm going to give you a better guide to take care of it."

His gaze softened, leaning his head to one of your hands. "That sounds nice..."

┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴┬┴

can you tell how excited i got with this? can you tell?!?!?! it was so fun omg

PLEASE!! pleasepleaseplease send me more asks about ideas for you all self insert! tell me if you want a puppet or like a human costar like sesame street.

[voidheartkisses]

Okay hello hi hello,

First off you're amazing and a gift to the world, I wish I had even half your talent. Your last piece blew my mind and I just HAD to ask,

How long have you been drawing/painting for? I imagine forever but I'm always curious how long it takes before artists reach these sorts of levels where it evolves into full-scale projects as opposed to smaller hobbyist crafts. There are so many beautiful art pieces on this platform as a whole and I'm constantly baffled by it all

Sorry if my excitement is off-putting that piece is heavenly and my mind is blown. Hope you're doing well!

Hi and thank you! That's a good question

So I've been drawing since I was born, but I've been drawing digitally for 8 years. I think in the very beginning most artists should just focus on having fun, you'll basically improve by default

after a while you will want to improve. It will be slow, but this is the stage where you'll recognize what you need work on

I'd say the turning point is when you've finally gotten far enough into your art journey without any sort of formal training (ie, a lot of artists dont learn the basics/fundamentals first, which is fine since most of us start as hobbyists) But I think learning them really did help me a lot. You start to think more about how light and shadow lays, depth, 3D objects, and more.

I highly recommend watching this video about levels of art, it's been really helpful and motivating to me throughout the years

This part is going to be long so you don't have to read it but I just wanna give my personal journey and how I got to now if anyone thinks it'll be helpful:

(2017) With digital art, I started off on ms paint and occasionally ibis paint x. Mostly using anime deviantart bases (EMBARRASSING), but after a while I developed my own style based on the people I was inspired by at the time, I was just happy to draw and didn't care much about improving at this time

(2019) The people you look up to artistically will naturally change over time (and thats okay), after a while I decided to switch to firealpaca, where I guess I got more invested on how light and shadows work, as well as making my characters look a bit more natural and develop my own style, your preference in aesthetic may also change over time which is noticeable here

(2021) Eventually, I began to lean more into semirealism (which isn't everyones preference and thats okay! realism shouldn't be the ultimate end goal of art) but I really enjoyed making stylized characters look 3D and in natural looking environments, since I felt it spoke to my own experiences, a lot of artists draw from real life experiences. I focused more on anatomy at this time as well as textures and environments, composition also became a big deal for me at this time, as well as wanting to use different colors

(2024) The change from LINEART to DIGITAL PAINTING in 2022 was the hardest for me once I switched to clip studio paint, it was basically like starting all over and I was so lost. I had a lot to figure out on my own but I knew it was a transition I had to make to draw the kind of art I wanted. But I began to study and take more things into consideration, I didn't like my art so I simply kept going "I can do better", learning from my previous mistakes and slowly making something I would be more satisfied with. At this point art felt more like "projects" then anything, because I wanted to make pieces that were of quality and had time and care put into each of them, sure it meant there was no longer much quantity. but hey that's what my smaller Cult of the Lamb lineart drawings are for!! 💙

I'm still growing and I definitely have a long way to go, but I am very proud of my progress this year, and I'll continue to grow until I'm satisfied (haha im stubborn) I also want to develop my secondary lineart style that I do when I'm not painting, since I feel that is important too

in short; time, practice, dedication, and passion are the most important, draw what you love above all else because it will be your drive to keep going, staying motivated was the most important for me

Sorry for the long post 😭

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

The Glass Merchant Part One

Masterlist

Contains: Fluff, mild angst, slow burn.

4.5K words

The beginning

Hydromora was an unfamiliar place to Kai; he thought he knew the whole universe, but since the Motherworld's defeat, a whole new trade stream had opened up, and so had his job prospects, all be it a little more moral than before the fall. He arrived at the market just as night began to fall, hopping off the steam transport ship at the dock as the water beneath him glowed blue with each movement.

The air was rich with spice, the sound of bartering and coins sliding across wooden tables floating on the wind as he walked through the stalls. It wasn't lost on him that he was drawing attention; the strange looks from stallholders and customers alike making him feel less than welcome.

"Kind stranger." He turned towards the voice, and an elderly man lifted two crocked fingers up to his face, moving them backwards as if to pull a hood away. Kai understood the message, pushing the hood off his face before walking to the stall. The man looked him up and down and smiled. "Can I help you with something?"

Kai nodded. "Ay, I'm looking for a stall selling pretty glass things, clocks to be exact."

The man pointed behind Kai's left shoulder. "Follow the broad path through the wooden wares, you'll see a sign to the glass seller soon enough." There was a coldness in the man's gaze, and he looked Kai over. "You should relax. You look jumpy, and we don't like that."

He got the sense that he was still being watched, even though most of the eyes on him had turned away once his hood was lowered. "Thank you."

The man smiled. "You best be on your way now."

He gave the man one last thank you and walked away, following the directions until he came upon what he was looking for. The owner had her back to him, her curly hair in a bun as she worked, bent over a desk. She clearly heard him as he approached, her head tilting ever so slightly to the side before she returned to her work. "There's nothing for sale here that you can buy."

He loved a challenge, and something in her tone provoked him in just the right way. "I'll pay you handsomely." He looked at her goods, and it was apparent why his employer wanted one of her clocks. Each piece was carefully crafted from fine, coloured glass, from tiny pocket watches to grandfather clocks as tall as he was, and jewellery, where the glass sparkled like stone and knives with their handles and scarabs, inlaid intricate reliefs.

She spun around, and he had to suppress his laugh at the sight, her strange glasses making her scowling eyes look huge. "I only sell to those who will appreciate my work." There was a thud as the glasses landed on the table, and she stood from her chair, her head coming to his chin as she met his eye. "So you see, your statement about paying me is a waste."

She looked like a dream in the warm glow of the lantern, and he remained undeterred. "You got a name?"

Her eyes crinkled with interest. "You don't already know it?" He shook his head, and she blinked up at him, and a rare prickle of self-consciousness came over him as she studied him. "You aren't here on behalf of Magnus Voytek?"

He huffed, offended at her statement as if he would do anything for a Motherworld banker. "No, I don't procure for him. I'm here for a man named Darius, he wants one of your clocks for his wife."

She lifted her hand to her face in embarrassment. "I am sorry for my rudeness. Since the fall, that man has been trying to put his money into whatever he can to keep himself from the gallows, and my work is just his lastest attempt." She extended her hand with a smile. "My name is Minna, by the way."

He took her hand and mirrored her smile. "Kai."

She gestured around as the mood shifted. "Do you have any ideas what your employer is looking for?"

He nodded and pointed to the clock hanging on the back wall. "He said she likes birds." The piece would be well worth her price. It was a scene of tiny bluebirds, fine pink flowers and lush vines for the clock hands.

She lifted it off the wall and held it before him, and he readied himself to start haggling. "Good choice. It's four hundred darams for the clock and a lifetime of repairs."

He sucked on his tongue and shook his head, leaning in with a smirk as he turned on the charm. "That's a bit steep, surely you can drop the price for a man in love?"

She shook her head. "If the man is that in love, he can come and find me himself, and then I'll drop the price. Four hundred is my price."

He pressed his lips together, that just wouldn't do. "Come on now, Love, three hundred and fifty, and I'll throw in one free job from me."

Her smile gave him some hope, he was getting somewhere. "I have everything I need right here, and I want for nothing. You offering your services is a waste of time. The clock costs four hundred; that's what your man will pay, or he'll get nothing."

He sighed and hung his head. "You drive a hard bargain, Minna. Three hundred and sixty."

Her shoulders fell as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Kai, my price is my price. If there's nothing else you want, you'll have to move on, I have close soon."

He decided to be bold, taking her hand and laying it on his chest over his heart. She made half an effort to pull away but stopped when he placed his hand over hers. "I'm a romantic Minna, as sure as my heart beats. You can drop your price for me."

She wasn't sure what to say; between the heat coming off his rock solid chest and the roughness of his massive hand, it was hard to think. "Three hundred and ninety-nine, no less."

He grinned and dropped her hand, and he didn't miss how it lingered in midair, nor the way she wouldn't meet his eye. "You got a deal."

He reached into his pocket and unloaded a pile of coins, counting each one out as he slid them over to her side of the booth, but she stopped him when he was about halfway through. "Half now, the rest tomorrow, I don't have time to pack it tonight."

He was giddy; sure, he only got a single daram off, but he still won. Only when Minna turned her back to place the coins away did he notice that the market had begun to empty out. The thick panels of glass and metal emerging from the ground to wrap around the simple wooden booths was a strange sight, and he realised he may have misjudged the planet as much more backward than it was.

His suspicion was confirmed when the line of people leaving parted to allow two soldiers to walk through. While the expressions on their faces were pleasant, the guns they had slung over their shoulders told him trouble was not tolerated. "Relax, they only shoot at Motherworlders."

"Shite, this place is a little deceptive." He relaxed a little as he watched them help the citizens with their pack-up, and the symbols on their uniforms fussed at his memory as they drew closer.

"You should really have a look around, we are the most technically advanced planet in five systems. We just choose to live a simple life." She waved as the soldiers walked by, and they watched as the glass covering rose up over her stall, only moving away after giving Kai a thorough once-over.

"Ay, I guess I will." He watched her with wrapped interest as she pulled a small cookie out of her pocket and placed it in the lantern in her hand, and to his surprise, the light was not coming from a candle but a cluster of the softest looking creatures that grew brighter as they ate. "What in the bleedin' 'ell are those?"

"Lantern bees." She let one crawl out on her finger and held her hand out as it crawled around her palm, a little bit of cookie held between two of its tiny legs as it ate. It wasn't very large, only slightly smaller than her thumb, but she seemed to hold genuine affection for the creature. "They are wonderful little things. Everyone has a hive in their home; they make sure our crops grow, give us honey and light out lanterns, and in turn, we keep them safe when the storms hit."

She didn't part from him as they started to walk towards the boats, and he made himself comfortable in her company for the short time it would last. "I might be a bit late getting here, seeing as I have to leave my ship and take a shuttle." It was rare that he couldn't land on the planet, even rarer that he had to park on the outer edge and take transport, but with each passing moment he spent there, he realised it was because they had something to protect.

"I can take you to the inn. It's cheap, and you'll get a good meal. That way you won't have to do the shuttle two step." It was getting cold now, and she pulled her coat tighter around her as they drew closer to the water.

"Well that would be grand." Now that they had reached the docks, there were soldiers everywhere now, still just as pleasant and helpful as the first ones. "Why are there so many of them." He paused at her supposition look. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Her eyes twinkled like she knew a fun secret, and she pointed to a brightly coloured boat painted in the same style as her clocks. "Pray you never have to find out."

When they arrived at her boat, she hung the lantern on the pole at the bow but shook him off when he reached down to help her unlash it. She did, however, accept his hand when she climbed in and only let it go when he was seated opposite her on the boat's second seat. The blue glow in the water he noticed when he docked was even brighter now, so much so that it lit the paths of the boats as they made their way home.

"It's algae, it glows when the water moves." She handed him one ore, then used the other to push away, and they were off, rowing in tandem as she guided them through the water.

He snuck glances at her in the glimmer of the planet's moon, and the mix of blue and purple it gave off gave her big, dark eyes a shade of sadness. "So Minna, is there a fella waiting at home for you?"

She shook her head. "Nope, just my fisher bear. His name is Zephy. Is there a lady waiting on your home planet with the porch light on?" She knew by how he stiffened what she had just done. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

He huffed, it wasn't the first time his lack of a home to return to had been inadvertently thrown in his face. "No harm done, Love. No, there's no one waiting for me anywhere."

The boat had slowed, and her hand landed on his knee. "We have all been touched by the Motherworld's cruelty, in one way or another."

It was such a simple touch, and despite it being far less intimate than the move he had made to secure the sale earlier in the day, something fluttered in his chest. He dared not question her when he finally pulled his eyes away from the water and gazed at her face; there was something there that was so painfully familiar. "Ay, but the war is over now and we have peace."

She smiled, and the boat went back to its original speed. "Yes we do."

They travelled for another twenty minutes, their conversation consisting of Kai's question about Minna's planet while she laughed and replied to him like he was asking about the colour of his own eyes. When he focused on the water, he could see the fish moving between the boats, large dark shapes occasionally shifting the water more as the boats rocked with their movement. In the distance, on all sides, he could see land and the faint lights, and he couldn't quite put a word to the body of water they were travelling on.

Eventually, the sea in front of them slowly lit up with the lights of houses, and he was in awe as they came into view. Many islands took over the landscape, and the glass-domed roofs of homes stood out against the square berry-covered hedges. There was a land border around each passel of homes, and the pathways were rimmed with more plants.

The boat slowed once more, and she angled the boat towards an island and into a channel. The waterway they moved down was only big enough for two boats, and he could see more of the homes as they moved towards the inn. Every front yard had a small garden filled with strange plants he had never seen, and he could see the glow of the lantern bees in little boxes next to every front door.

The boat turned into a larger house, its fourth level sticking out above the skyline of the rest of the domes. He noticed the inn sign as they went through the open fence before finally stopping next to the boat tie. "We're here. You'll get a good feed and a warm bed, and I'll pick you up bright and early tomorrow."

He held onto a post as he climbed out, finally happy he was back on solid ground. "Thank you, Love."

She smiled and began her journey home. "Goodnight Kai."

He stood leaning against a yellow fruited tree and waved as he left, yelling after her. "Goodnight Minna."

****

Kai hadn't slept so well in decades, he woke up to birds singing and the sunrise in his window instead of the hum of his ship and the endless darkness of space.

Knock knock

"Ay?" Being waited on for no reason other than being a guest was new too, and as the door swung open and the smell of pasties filled the air, a familiar longing swam in his chest.

"Kind stranger, can I offer you breakfast?" He walked to the cart, piled high with a variety of delicious looking items.

He plucked one of the cart, drawn in by the spoon of bright pink jam in the middle. "Sweet berry jam with butter pastry, good choice. Anything else from the cart?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you." Nevertheless, a steaming cup of tea suddenly appeared, and he took it with a smile.

The cart rolled off, and he headed to the chair by the window. He could hear children swimming in the canal, but mercifully, Minna's boat floated into his view before his thoughts had time to drift to the past.

He wasn't skipping towards the boat, or at least, that's what he told himself as he made his way down the stairs with a noticeable spring. He all but jumped into the boat, and Minna shot him a look as she steadied its rocking. "Well good morning, you're awfully chipper."

He made himself comfortable next to her and took the ore in one hand while he continued his breakfast with the other. "Ay, it is a good morning, Minna, it's been a while since I slept in a real bed."

The place was very different in the daylight; gone was the blue glow of the water, and replaced with it was the bright warmth of the sunlight pouring through the clouds. There were larger boats on the water, too, small sailboats with nets hanging from their sides and steamships moving slowly along while people looked out from the balconies.

"So do you row your way everywhere?" Judging by the lean muscles of her arms, the answer was yes.

She smiled and shook her head warmly as if his question was silly. "In winter, when all the water freezes, some of us walk, and we have transport on the larger islands, but yes I row most places. It's good for me."

He downed the last of his tea and looked at the boat. The floor was covered in little mesh bags filled with fruits and vegetables, and there was a pile of colourful embroidered blankets on the third seat. Without her long coat, he could see the forearms; she had the same strange line tattoos that he had seen on others during his walk through the market yesterday, and curiosity got the best of him as he bent his head towards them. "I swear I've seen those on half the people here, what do they mean?"

"Most of the adults have them, it's a tradition from the old ways." Her tone had shifted to something tinged with a distinctive coldness, and she was all of a sudden very interested in the fish swimming by the boat instead of his eyes.

Her evasiveness wasn't missed. "Ay, but that's not what I asked. I asked what they mean?"

She chuckled softly and shook her head. "I'm afraid you don't want the answer to that question."

He raised his eyebrows. "Alright then, keep your secrets. You said there's no fella at home, what exactly do you do in your spare time?"

She sighed. "Lots of things. Why the sudden interest in me? I'm just a glass merchant."

The charm was back on, his blue eyes looking over her as if to hint at his intention. "Ay, but you're a very pretty glass merchant."

Her head tilted, and her eyes wrinkled as she assessed his words, slightly incredulous at his continued boldness. "Does this work for you every time?"

He smiled as he fought the urge to kiss the chilliness from her plump lips. "I don't have a clue about what you're talking about, care to tell me what you're referring to?"

She huffed, and her grip tightened on the ore as she grew ever more doubtful. "You haggle me for my goods, you ask questions that you ought not to, and now you are trying to charm your way into my pants." He didn't respond right away; he was too stuck trying to decipher the expression on her face. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself, sir?"

His cheeks ached with restraint as he did his best to drop his smile. "I don't know; I'm worried if I say the wrong thing, you'll toss me overboard."

It was her turn to struggle away her smile, and she half glared at him. "I find you quite inappropriate." Despite her point, she didn't move away from him, and their legs still stayed pressed together as they rowed back to the market; when they docked, she still took his offer of an assisting hand and only sighed in protest when picked up her goods are carried them to her stall without asking.

It was a slow walk, and he found himself acting as her assistant as she traded the fruits and vegetables from her garden with the other merchants. When they arrived at her stall, he stood there watching, admiring her efficiency until she had him place the goods on the shelves that were empty when he was there the day before. "Are you going to pay me for all my hard work?"

She nodded. "Yes, in lunch." She swapped her workbench for one of the display tables to face him while she worked and sat down with a sigh. "I have a few things to work on before I pack your clock, you can go and explore if you like, or you're more than welcome to stay."

He smiled and took a seat, leaning his elbows on the bench as he watched her begin to work. "Ay, I think I'll stay." He looked around, nodding his head towards a pile of uncut glass and wooden stencils. "Is there anything I can do? I figure I should earn my keep if you're going to entertain me."

She puffed, although her exasperation was tinged with affection. "I'll give you some glass to cut." She showed him what to do, once again shooting him an unimpressed look as he suggested that she should use a more hands-on approach when he misused the tool, but nevertheless, her hand found its way on top of his as she guided him around the tight bends of the design.

She placed a small bowl of light blue squares before him, and the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. "Bandages, you might need them."

She was right, but he blamed her for his wounding. Had she not looked so beautiful as she worked, he would have paid more attention to the blade in his hand. There was a pause in the work as a man walked by a huge plate of small glistening berries, and she waved him over with a smile. "Oh Kai, you have to try these."

They conversed in their mother tongue for a moment, and he found himself trying to pick familiar sounds from the melodic speech. Before he could ask for a translation, he was handed a small paper bowl filled with the treats as Minna passed the seller a coin. "I hope you enjoy, kind stranger."

When the man walked away, Kai leaned in as if to ask her a secret. "What's with the kind stranger thing?"

"Why, would you rather we call you distinguished guest?" Her tone was tinged with disgust.

He shook his head. "No, that sounds like something you'd call a Motherworlder."

"Exsalty, now eat your candy." He popped one of the red balls into his mouth a bit down, the crunchy crackly of sweet sugar giving away to the same rich flavour as the jam he had on his breakfast pasty. "Good, right?"

He nodded. "It's fucken grand."

That went on for the rest of the morning as vendors walked by with different foods, and there was something comforting about the way she continued to feed him, like he was visiting an old friend who worried about him just a bit too much when he was away.

He felt a flash of disappointment as she pulled the bird clock off the wall, and with all the glass cut, he busied himself looking at some of her wears, his attention falling to a pocket watch that had a rush of memories flooding his brain. The light yellow cascading blossoms were the same ones from his homeland that his little sister used to wear in her hair, and a lump formed in his throat as the memory of the smell of the flowers wafting over him as she hugged him.

He picked up the piece, running his thumb over the smooth glass face as his heart began to pound. He choked down his feelings enough to question her. "Where did you get the idea for this one."

She looked up from the clock, and his heart rate only doubled when he saw the look of sadness in her eyes. "The flowers are from the fields of Saaldorun. My father brought home a cutting for my mother, he never told us what they were called."

He placed the watch down and smiled softly. "True Loves Kisses, they were my sister's favourite."

She huffed and regarded him as if she sifting through her mind to find something to say. "My mother loved them so much she spent hours with tweezers and a magnifying glass trying to retrieve a seed, then a year getting it to grow. It's still going strong today. I have to admit, they do smell lovely."

"Ay, that they do." Butterflies dashed the walls of his chest as if they were trying to break through his ribs as the pang of grief swirled with something entirely different.

A beat passed before she spoke again. "I am sorry, it's a terrible thing to have nothing left to tether you to where you came from." She reached out, her hand opening and closing as she debated laying her hand on his before she decided against it and returned to her work. "It won't be long now, I just have to make sure it works then I'll have you on your way."

The disappointment was back. "Sure thing, Love." When it was finished, she held it in front of him, and he smiled, and it ticked away. "Ain't that pretty."

She packed it carefully and then placed the box on the bench before sighing, her eyes differing to the jewellery. She picked up a necklace, its tiny pendant displaying two, one grey and one bluebird, locked in a mating dance and placed it in a box before wrapping it. He looked at her, a smile on his face and one eyebrow raised, and she shook her head. "I, too, am a romantic."

He grinned at her, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she shook her head at him. "You are doing it again."

His tongue darted out as he leaned into her space. "Doing what, Love?"

Her eyes crinkled as if he should know what she was talking about. "Looking at me altogether too fondly for a man who has known me for less than a day."

He raised his hand in supplication and smiled. "Ay, perhaps I am altogether too fond of you." He picked up the pocket watch from early and held it up, the watch face dangling from the silver chain. "How much for this one?"

She smiled. "Whatever you feel it's worth."

His eyes drifted to her plump lips as he coiled the chain around his hand. "How 'bout a kiss."

Her hand found his cheek as she grew closer. "Yes, a kiss is a fair price." He closed the distance, sealing his lips to hers as she slid her hands into the loose hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled away, and he licked the kiss from his lips as he spoke. "I better make sure it works for you."

He passed it to her, and she tinkered for a moment, sliding a small pin into a hole before handing it back. "All done."

He placed it into the coat and patted the pocket as if to check it was secure before collecting the other packages and paying her the other half of what he owed her. "I imagine my employer will want to thank you for your kindness."

"Does that mean I should expect you again?" He nodded. "Well then Kai, until next time."

Despite the payday waiting for him a few systems over, he was finding it hard to leave, but he took a deep breath and took a step backwards as he began to walk away. "Ay, until next time Minna."

Part 2

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Okay, a good amount of time has passed, and after having seen this post by @weretiger-be-my-horse , I've been turning it over and over in my brain going absolutely feral over this concept. I need to expand upon my thoughts on this idea and all the evidence there is pointing towards it, whether that be actual tangible things, or purely strong vibes I have.

First of all, full disclaimer: I did not like the season 5 finale, and how it wrapped up the DoA arc. To say that I "disliked" it is putting it extremely lightly, in fact -- I absolutely hated it, and I am still, to a degree, in disbelief that I actually even watched those 24 minutes with my own two eyes, and that it somehow wasn't a complete fever dream. While I'm not going to go in long-winded detail into all the ways that I feel like the finale almost completely bastardized all of its featured characters and destroyed any and all buildup we've had going on in this arc for 50 some chapters now, because that's not the main point of this post, I will not make any attempt to hide the fact that the theory-crafting I'm about to pose here is partly influenced and prompted by how much I hated the finale, and how much I desperately hope that it will not end up being manga canon. Therefore, if you enjoyed the finale — and that's fine! — and don't want to read any negativity about it, then I would not recommend reading any further (I mean, you've probably already left by this point, which is fair lol), While obviously it's important that I be as objective and unbiased as possible when explaining my thoughts, some of my negative feelings about the writing will be a part of this analysis, even if this isn't going to be a full-blown rant. Just know that if you proceed.

With that out of the way, let me continue.

So. In the aforementioned post, the theory presented is that the anime may be operating on an alternate timeline, and that this will become evident once we read the upcoming October chapter, wherein things will go completely differently post-chapter 110 than they do in the final episode — probably for the worse, with the s5 finale intending to lull us into a false sense of security and make us assume that everything in the manga arc finale will wrap up as smoothly and consequence-freely(? lol) as it did in the anime one. It also suggests that the Fukuchi we see at the very end that sskk are fighting came from the manga timeline, where he won, and that he used the Book to jump to a timeline where he lost, the anime one, proven by the fact that this Fukuchi is wearing a mask with the same design on it as the mask Fukuchi is wearing on the chapter 110 DoA color spread/title page.

First of all, I want to note the fact that it's not just the mask design that's the same: the entire outfit is roughly more or less the same as well. It's not completely 1-to-1, because the anime can never fully match the intricacies of Harukawa's beautiful outfit designs, and the Fukuchi in this scene has the kimono half-off because of the... super saiyan mode he's in, but most all of the main pieces of clothing are there. Any small inaccuracies could also be attributed to the fact that Harukawa probably didn't have this finalized art ready back when this episode was being made, so the animators wouldn't have had the complete design to work off of. But in general, because it's all so similar, I think we can quite confidently say that the ending episode Fukuchi is meant to be the one from this manga art.

Also, people have pointed this out, but it's worth mentioning that the mask Asagiri wore at Anime Expo in July was referencing this Fukuchi. It's not a crucial detail, but it just proves more that Asagiri is a gigantic fucking troll, and that he clearly wanted to draw attention to this Fukuchi design. It's important. He describes the mask here as made in the motif of an ellipses inside a speech bubble... could that perhaps be referencing meta aspects, like the Book?

Next, I want to talk about the even bigger elephant in the room, which to me is the most damning and undeniable piece of evidence there is of the anime operating on a completely separate timeline from the manga:

This Fucking Hand™️

As we all know, in the anime, Fyodor injures his hand when the password input device blows up, and as we all know, this does not happen in the manga. In the last episode, Dazai claims that the final nail in the coffin of his impromptu plan to kill Fyodor relied on this hand injury: because Fyodor couldn't pilot his escape helicopter himself, he would ask one of his Meursault vampires to do it for him, unaware that Bram and thus this vampire was now on the ADA's side, and said vampire could kill him while his guard was down.

Ignoring how utterly stupid and contrived this plan is when you stop and think about it for more than two seconds, the fact of the matter is that something that initially seemed like nothing more than an odd but inconsequential anime original addition ended up snowballing into being the entire reason one of the big bads was brought down. If Fyodor hadn't hurt his hand, he wouldn't have needed another pilot, and so the traitor vampire wouldn't have had an opportunity to get near him and kill him without him expecting it even though said vampire was presumably with him as they were leaving Meursault, and was probably already a traitor by then, so there was plenty opportunity for him to still die. not to mention by Chuuya's hands at literally any time he wanted to, because Chuuya was coherent the whole time. Also there's absolutely no way Dazai could have known exactly what Ranpo would do, no matter how smart he is and how much he trusts him. idk it's fucking dumb, just roll with it. Therefore, putting aside all other variables for now, we can conclude that, on the most basic level, this signifies that no hand wound = no death.

And let me tell you, this hand wound bothers me. It really, really does. Because they focus on it a LOT — they go out of their way to draw attention to it MULTIPLE TIMES, from the moment it first happens to the end of the season. Fyodor even talks about it to himself, about Dazai being able to cause him tangible, visible, bodily harm, (something that, again, as far as we've seen, has never happened in the manga). Hell, even after Fyodor's death, they're still drawing attention to it, because his right arm is all of him that survives, and Dazai picks it up and gives it to Nikolai to do his hilarious sad little gay fondling of it played completely straight even though there's nothing straight going on here at all! It's like it's a big red flashing sign at all times going "you see this injured hand? This is important. Are you picking up that it's important? Are you taking note of it?" Why is that? Obviously, it serves to give us the lore crumbs about Fyodor and "that man", but that's hardly the main, much more glaring reason, as I've already mentioned.

Fyodor doesn't hurt his hand in the manga. Fyodor won't die here in the manga. I am so dead serious by this point about this, and it's not just simply the fact that this was absolutely not at all the time for him to die, or the fact that his hand is the reason for his death in the anime in and of itself, but how much EMPHASIS they place on this, and on the hand in general. What would be the point of adding something like this, if it's not meant to alert us to the fact that it has a major impact on how the story plays out? We all know Bones: they struggle to get right and include everything that's already there in the source material; they would never go out of their way to add something this noteworthy if there wasn't a very good reason for it, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've seen a few people bring up the fact that Fyodor gets shot in the shoulder by Sigma and that that could lead to the same outcome in the manga, but I disagree: although he has blood on his shoulder in the manga, it seems like the bullet just grazed the top of it, because his arm and hand appears completely functional afterwards (not hanging limp by his side or anything). But that doesn't even matter, because this isn't even about the semantics/logistics of how the hand wound caused Fyodor's death because again, it's a stupid outcome, or what could serve as a substitute in the manga — thematically, this is a textbook example of the butterfly effect. Countless parallel universes exist within this series, ones where even the most minute differences lead to a majorly different outcome: this just happens to be one of them. There's no reason to think it isn't, and there's no reason to not think that the anime wants us to clue into the fact that things only went as smoothly as they did on the Meursault side because of this wound; in other words, that things will go very differently in the manga thanks to the absence of said wound. They wouldn't have added it in the first place and put such clearly deliberate emphasis on it otherwise.

Things are going to happen very differently in the manga, at least when it comes to the Meursault crew (but then, if you assume that, you then naturally assume it all will be very different). This is the only conclusion one can come to with the presentation of this anime-only wound, combined with the fact that parallel universes are a very real thing in BSD.

I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent, so bear with me. I play a lot of visual novels, and although such concepts aren't really as original now as they were a while ago, some of my favorite and some of the very best VNs out there are the ones that break the fourth wall and make the visual novel branching route format directly intertwined with the story: you know, the ones where the characters go "if only I had done things differently, maybe everything would have turned out better...!" in a wink wink nudge nudge moment, and the ones where the characters are aware of the different timelines, even, or even have the ability to gain information from their selves in said alternate timelines to influence events in their current one (I'm intentionally not naming the games I'm thinking of for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know lmao). It gets very meta in this regard, and this is how I started viewing BSD through the lens of ever since I first learned about Beast: like a visual novel with many branching routes, and only a few routes that feel entirely "right".

When I first read Dazai's Entrance Exam, I was struck by how unnerving the ending sequence in the abandoned hospital felt. Obviously, Kunikida's internal struggle over Sasaki's actions and motives is him still desperately clinging to his ideal world that does not exist, but the specific type of phrases he uses — "who is wrong?" "[who is] the cause of all this?" "there has to be an ideal world" "there has to be something, I'm sure of it" "There must have been something we could have done!" — and the framing of the scene in general, is eerily reminiscent of a bad ending in a visual novel, to me. There's a haunting, looming, bleak sense that a different outcome could have been achieved, if different decisions had been made, or if things outside of anyone's control had been different... and we know that this is true, because in Beast alone, Kunikida never goes through the Azure Messenger incident, because Dazai doesn't have his entrance exam. Hell, you could even consider the anime's version of the Azure Messenger arc an alternate timeline in of itself, if you really wanted to, long before we even arrive at season 5.

When it comes to Beast, this timeline has almost the opposite feeling of what I described above, that I've also encountered in visual novels: the idea of a "good route" or "good ending" that still doesn't feel quite earned, or as perfect as one would expect. Beast is presented as the "ideal" timeline purely for one sole reason: Oda is alive. It is the only timeline where he's alive, and keeping Oda alive is the ultimate goal Dazai wants to achieve, the only reason this timeline exists; therefore, disregarding all else, Beast should be the best timeline, because Oda's death is the greatest devastation in the series to date. We all want him to live, so why wouldn't the timeline where he does be the best one? And yet... of course, it isn't. Dazai is alone, and steeped in darkness and loneliness without Oda, and dies by the end of the story for Oda's continued living. Atsushi has Kyouka still, but he's suffering and more traumatized, and unable to heal while stuck in the mafia, and neither can Kyouka. Akutagawa is living a much better life in the ADA... but without his sister, and without what he has from his bond with Atsushi in canon, that isn't replicated in Beast. And Oda... Oda is alive, and he has his children and his novel, but there is a feeling that he is aimless, that something in his life is missing. He has everything he ever wanted, but all that means nothing without what he truly needs: Dazai, and his time with Dazai and Ango at the bar. In this way, things going well and us getting what we want — in this case, Oda living — goes against how it's supposed to be, the natural order, which is why it feels so hollow. In the specific visual novel I'm thinking of here as a comparison (again, shoutout if you know), there's an alternate ending that involves you inputting information you gain at the end of the game very early on in the game, wherein the protagonist now has memories of the future and is able to bypass and prevent all of the events that take place normally. This means that people who die or are hurt somehow in general are saved from that fate, and nothing bad ever occurs; everything wraps up neatly and nicely... but again, there's an undeniable, unsettling feeling of emptiness, of a victory that rings hollow, because what's the point if everything is simply handed to you easily, where's the sense of accomplishment, without any struggles to achieve said victories, or any growth along the way? How can it feel earned if one doesn't have to, in Dazai's words, "scream within the storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood"?

You can probably already see where I'm going with this.

This finale feels weird. Really, really weird. It feels too cheap, too simple, too unsatisfying. So much so, in fact, that for almost the entire runtime, as I was bombarded with resolution upon resolution one after another, I kept thinking "There's no way this can be real. Where's the catch? When is the "gotcha!" moment gonna happen? The "it was all a dream" reveal?". And this isn't just because I hated the writing, and that it really did feel like a fever dream watching fanfic levels of bad (actually, that's an insult to fanfic writers, tbh; they could do better) — no, it genuinely feels so incredibly fake. Even upon rewatching it and already knowing what happens, my brain still naturally keeps expecting some kinda of "sike, you THOUGHT!" moment to suddenly appear. It just.... feels "too good to be true". Dazai and Chuuya come out unscathed, and it's revealed that they were never in any real danger to begin with. Fyodor, one of our biggest threats, is dealt with supposedly for good (I say "supposedly" only because of the Jesus line, but if anything imo, I think that's just a hint that this won't be the canon ending in the manga, so in a sense he's going to "come back to life"), and Nikolai seems somewhat at peace with his death. The other biggest threat, Fukuchi, is also dealt with, and he and Fukuzawa get their final moment together of closure. Yes, Sigma is left in Meursault don't even get me started on how angry this alone makes me, and Fukuzawa loses Fukuchi, but overall, everything is portrayed in a positive light, and any negatives or losses are quickly glossed over. Everything is tied up nicely, neatly, and smoothly. ...And that is exactly what makes it feel so wrong, and hard to trust in.

I'm not sure if this will make sense, but to me, the finale is so incredibly poorly written that it almost feels.... intentional. It's so bad to the point of feeling self-aware in how bad it is, how unrealistically happy and convenient an ending it is. It had to end this neatly in order to rush to wrap up this arc for the season finale and not leave the last episode on a cliffhanger — which imo is chiefly the main reason it turned out this way, and, if this whole theory is true, Asagiri just used it to his advantage — and I'm not saying this was probably an effect Bones had in mind intentionally, I'm sure they just threw shit at the wall and went with whatever stuck, maaaaybe with some suggestions/approval from Asagiri, but the result is that you have a conclusion that contradicts so much of what was set up before and goes against so many character arcs, making some characters so out of character and even regressing in their development Dazai. I'm talking about Dazai abandoning Sigma, because he would never; hashtag #NOTMYDAZAI. Also Nikolai, Nikolai for most of that is so ooc I can't even begin to describe it oh my god. Everyone is OOC to a degree though lmao, and opens so many plot holes, to the point that it's impossible not to watch all that and get the feeling that it is subtly saying to you "did you really think it could be this easy? It feels wrong, doesn't it? It doesn't feel satisfying. It feels unearned." I find it incredibly interesting and suspicious in particular that they confirmed multiple theories people had about soukoku in Meursault: that Chuuya slowed the elevator's fall so that Dazai wouldn't die from it, that Chuuya slowed down the bullet so that it only penetrated Dazai's skin and not his skull, and that the both of them used Fyodor's camera angle to their advantage because they knew he wouldn't be able to see certain things from his view. I'm not saying that Asagiri trawled BSD twitter and tumblr after those chapters dropped for the most popular theories before the final episode was made lmao, there was no time for that (imagine though lol—), but I do think it's highly likely that he already had in mind exactly what theories would be made about these parts (I mean, the evidence for the gun scene was all there), and that Dazai rattling them off in his long monologue to Fyodor at the end is essentially him speaking to the audience and going "yeah, that's what you would predict, right? Those are the clichés, after all", much like him suggesting earlier that he can maybe bring Chuuya back to himself with a few moving words and the power of friendship, and Fyodor using the split personalities trope to fool Sigma. We expect these tropes to be true. Of course we'd fall for them, as Fyodor tells Sigma, especially if the evidence is right there. But Asagiri himself has explicitly said that he likes doing the opposite of what people expect. And so just because people predicted correctly with the three things I mentioned in this timeline... doesn't mean they'll be true in the manga's. Things happened how we wanted and expected it to, and everything turned out happily. So we can relax now, right? Everything will work out just as easily in the manga, right? Or... is the reason most of this finale feels so fake and unsettling and unsatisfying because it's meant to lull us into a false sense of security before all our heroes lose in the manga? Because deep down, we don't want an ending that's this simple, because we'd rather have a conclusion where our characters have struggled more and grown more and come out the better for it, and we know it?

After rewatching the episode a lot, and watching some other videos, and doing a lot of thinking, I am pretty confident in suspecting that the only part of this finale that is actually from manga canon, aside from Aya jumping off the building of course, is Fyodor and Nikolai's exchange after Fyodor leaves Meursault — specifically, them talking about Fyodor leaving Sigma behind, and their "new game" and Nikolai being excited at the prospect of it. This little conversation actually feels in character for them, and it's easy to tell this when contrasting it with everything that happens immediately after, wherein Fyodor is fatally stabbed, and Nikolai, completely at odds with what he was just talking about, just... stands there and watches Fyodor die while Dazai monologues lmao. I'm not sure if the helicopter is still a factor, but I would bet good money on Fyolai getting out of Meursault being manga canon, and that Dazai and Chuuya getting out as well and killing Fyodor + everything with FukuFuku, is part of the anime original ending, in order to wrap up everything positively. It makes much more sense if you think about, in reality (aka in the manga), Dazai and Chuuya still being left behind in Meursault (where they can eventually try to get Sigma), because none of it was an act and things did not go according to plan, and Fukuchi having an entirely different goal that doesn't feel so stupid and contradictory to his character, and Fukuzawa possibly dying — everyone seemingly loses, with Aya still being the last hope, perhaps by awakening her ability like we all speculated.

There's a youtuber I watch who covers BSD in-depth, despite being an anime-only (she reads the respective manga content after each season, though). Going into this finale, she knew about the fact that the anime had overtaken the manga, though she didn't know where the cutoff point was; despite that, however, she made predictions about what was from the manga so far and what was anime original, and it was almost entirely spot-on, based mostly on what she basically described as "anime original dialogue." She talked about how you can always tell when dialogue is veering into the realm of anime-original, because the sentences are very short, choppy, and slightly out of character, but generic enough to not be TOO out of character, and so that anyone can easily write said lines, even if they're not extremely familiar with the character like the original author would be. And when I heard this explanation, everything clicked — because so much of this finale has dialogue like that. The Fyolai scenes just feel peppered with it, around the lines I mentioned earlier, the Dazai dialogue does too, and ESPECIALLY shit at the end like Fukuchi and Fukuzawa exchanging the cliche death lines to end all death lines: "Are you there? I'm a little tired." "Rest up." That just isn't Bungou Stray Dogs. That isn't Asagiri. BSD is cheesy at times, yes, but it isn't like this; it's smarter. The dialogue is smarter, the explanations/plot twists are smarter, Asagiri is smarter, and the aforementioned youtuber I watched agreed. She's a pretty casual fan of the series, so if even she could pick up on these things, I think it speaks volumes.

I mentioned this briefly earlier, but this theory makes sense if you consider that this situation probably came about because of Bones wanting two seasons back-to-back when they did, and this arc being as long as it is. Season 3 aired in 2019, and I imagine Bones would have wanted season 4 in 2020, and might have then been willing to wait a bit longer for season 5 in order for more of this arc's manga chapters to come out — but then covid happened. Because of that, season 4 was delayed to 2023, creating the longest gap we've had between seasons, and I wouldn't at all be surprised if the delay made them want season 5 right together with it, after getting so far "behind", so to speak. S4 was announced in November of 2021, and roughly around that time, Asagiri was finishing up writing the plot of the DoA arc. If Bones came to him sometime in late 2021 and said they wanted two seasons now (so basically, one giant two cour season), Asagiri would know that not only of course would this arc not be finished publishing in the manga for a very long time yet, but that roughly 20ish episodes would not be enough to cover it all to the end, with this arc being longer than any arc the anime has adapted to date. Because of all this, and the arc manga chapters being nowhere near fully drawn to completion, he'd have to make a decision about what to do, and what to give Bones. Without ending season 5 on a massive cliffhanger that wouldn't be resolved for years until an eventual season 6, the only other option would be to rush towards an anime-original ending for the DoA arc.... and for Asagiri to take advantage of that, and integrate it into BSD's lore. Thereby creating a truly unique cross-media experience that utilizes the different mediums to create multiple timelines, that could make both the anime and manga interact with each other and become part of a bigger picture (not that you'd need to see both to get the full experience, mind you, just that it'd provide a little bonus if you did).... and would without a doubt be Asagiri's biggest surprise yet.

...I feel like at this point I'm starting to ramble, and my evidence become more and more incoherent and less substantial lmao, so I should probably end this post. 💀 Thank you if you've read this far, and hopefully it made some semblance of sense, despite not being structured very well; I know I promised at the start to try to be as objective as possible and curb my negative feelings, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that regard. If it weren't for the Fukuchi thing and the Fyodor hand thing, I probably wouldn't take how wrong and strange and bad the finale feels to me as serious evidence about it being an alternate timeline, especially since I seem to be one of the only people who actually hates all of it.... but combined with everything else, I am just so convinced of this theory being true. It started off as pure copium, but as more time has gone on, I fully, 100% believe in my bones (ha) that there is no way that finale is the same Bungou Stray Dogs I know and love, for so many reasons. It just isn't. It can't be. I know BSD better than this, I know Asagiri better than this, and I know that it's absolutely in the realm of possibility for him to cook up this whole scheme to completely blindside us with in the upcoming chapters, because that's exactly the kind of shit Mr. "Please Be Surprised!" himself would pull. If I end up being completely wrong, I guess I'm wrong, and you can laugh at me all you want then.... but I just know that ages ago people were teasing the idea of the anime operating on a different timeline from the manga, and I truly do think that only now are we finally seeing that idea come to fruition, as a setup for Asagiri going full-bore insanity with the Book in the upcoming arc(s). if I and the OP of that theory end up right, this will be the wildest time in the BSD fandom's history.

Like. I cannot even emphasize how hard they are trolling us at this point. Something is going on. Something is being cooked over there, the likes of which we've never seen before... and I don't think any of us are ready for it.

Oh yeah, and one last thing of note: both Fyodor and Nikolai here have their right arms hidden from view. Is that alluding to anything? I'm not sure. I also think that since chapter 110 was so short, next chapter will likely be 110.5 instead of 111, and if that's the case, this title spread could still technically be associated with the next chapter... wherein we might see this Fukuchi, who ends up wreaking havoc, right before he jumps to the timeline in the anime, as we see him at the end of the s5 finale.

I guess we'll find out on Tuesday.

[butmakeitgayblog]

I really admire the amount of thought you’ve put into understanding the core of both of these characters in canon. Even in your asks it really shines through how deeply you understand them and it makes your writing of them really next level. All of your clexas are so different but all somehow really ring true in a way. How do you decide how to develop/craft each of your clexas in a way that you feel stays true to the base of the original character in a way? Like, are there core characteristics or motivations you try to keep for either of them across any au? Or an element of their arc/development? I know all of your AUs vary wildly but I wanted to ask because it really comes through that you have thought deeply about what Clarke and lexa either would or wouldn’t do etc.

Ok well first of all, thank you 🥺 that's just an incredibly lovely thing to hear. Really, I've had a righ couple days and this was just such a nice thing to read, that you feel that way about these weird little stories 💕

As for your questions, stuff like this is always jard to answer because while I'd love to give some intelligent, big brained answer, the truth is I'm not entirely sure 😅

I tend to mostly just get an idea for a story and then it kind of... idk, it develops in my head in stages? And it's different every time with every story. I don't go into each story looking to purposefully focus on core elements or characteristics, but rather as the story comes together each character kinda - as absolutely pretentious as this sounds - tells me what parts of them fit best in the story?

For example, MBFW Lexa. Since I've been talking about her a lot lately. Once I knew that she'd be the Jules character, she kind of built herself around the attributes of being devoted and dependable, but jarringly unpredictable at times when she feels it is for greater good. She does things that she thinks are best even when they may hurt herself and other people, because in her mind she is ultimately making the right and rational choice (even if from an outside perspective that may not be true.) With MBFW Clarke, her loyalty and devotion are her driving forces, but also her stubbornness and ultimately her rash decision making when her emotions run high (you'll see 😏). Clarke will go through hell for the people she loves and she is a ride or die bitch, even in the face of her own heartache. That's what she does when she loves someone. So you get these two personalities together that have this intense and unshakable love, but it's one that's also a revolving door of missed opportunities, and staying silent even when they shouldn't for their own percieved thoughts of the greater good, and unwittingly hurting each other in the process. But the love is still there, always.

I guess overall in each fic I just try and go at it with the thought of, "What traits and quirks of themselves would these life experiences have developed most (i.e. moodiness, playfulness, stubbornness, standoffish, nurturing etc.) over the others that they had canon? And ultimately, what about those characteristics would make them love each other in this universe? Because they are still always themselves, even in different universes. And Clarke and Lexa, they love each other. They'll always love each other. But why this time? What about them would draw them together here? What pieces of themselves would connect in this situation? How do they compliment each other in this world?" And then it just builds itself from there.

If that makes sense?

[zopharooni]

"Lament"

A DMAU story, part 3/4 (start / previous / next)

Chaos. That's all that my life has been as of recent.

Now? That's all my life will ever be.

I step into the cult grounds, and immediately I'm greeted with bustling crowds, all working in tandem on one thing or another. Everyone is talking, it's so loud, and yet there is order among them? Strange.

I blend right into the crowds and attempt to locate some building where I can speak to a leader, priest, or someone in charge. I stow my greataxe as to not appear larger or more threatening. I spot a large temple, that seems mostly unoccupied right now, make my way over and slip inside. Immediately, I spot a Rodent follower, clad in better robes than most of the others. They spot me, and immediately draw a sword and rush me, recognizing I am not a member.

I swiftly draw my greataxe, and parry their strike, knocking their sword to the ground. Immediately after, I toss the greataxe to my side, as to show I mean no harm.

"I'm here to join. Who do I talk to?"

"Uh.... We don't really have a leader here, but I'm responsible for educating new members. If you'd like, I can help? First step being... not attacking members." the Rodent meekly states, still on the ground.

"Yes. I wish to devote myself to chaos, and chaos only. Also, you struck first. You simply failed."

The day quickly passes, as I am shown around the cult ground and am outfitted with proper robes, minus the hood, as per my request. I wish for the heretics to know my face. The education process was very fast, as I wish for nothing but to serve Chaos.

The next few months pass by in a blur. I spend this time acquainting myself with beliefs of chaos, and blacksmithing, as to craft my own weapon. One to serve as the hand of chaos. I eventually fashion a wicked glaive to be my weapon of choice. After gaining sufficient trust of the cult, I am allowed to go on solo missionaries. Finally, I can bring the fight to the other cults. I'll start with rogue cults in rotwood, then make my way back to the cults that wronged me.

A year passes, then another, as I hone my skill past that which I was taught.

It's time. I need to go to Ombros and find the cult that caused all these problems. Pestilence will pay. I prepare my bag for the journey, and sharpen my glaive. I won't spare a soul. I leave the cult, and begin my journey back to Ombros.

A few days pass before I reach my destination. I know Rotwood well now, but Ombros I know better. The journey is no challenge at all. I push through the underbrush and reach it.

The cabin.

I... had to know.

Cliff and Spike are almost certainly already gone... but I wanted to check anyways. I'm not sure why. I push open the door, and the cool air inside pushes out, a smell of dust and a stagnant musk lingering. I make my way to their room, and look at the bed. Empty. Don't know what I expected. There's a picture on the side desk.

Its... Us....

Me. Spike. Gid and Cliff. Collecting dust. I slowly grasp it, wipe the dust from the glass... and stow it away. I shouldn't keep it... It will make me weak, but my heart isn't whole without them.

After a minute I check Spike's room. Empty.

I check mine. It's exactly how I left it, so long ago. Except... there's a note on my desk. I pick up the dust covered paper and read:

"Thorne, if you ever read this, know that you were the best sister I could have ever asked for, and it hurts me so much to know I might never see you again. Whatever reason you had to leave us for, I'm sure you were justified. Cliff left us yesterday, and I had to lay him to rest. It hurt me so much, seeing him go, but at least he isn't suffering anymore. I miss you. So, so much. I'm going to venture out to look for help. This illness has me close to the light, but I will push on. For Gideon. For Cliff. For You."

"Love, Spike."

"...I miss you too." I mumble, unconsciously.

I wipe my tears... wait, I'm crying? It doesn't matter. I have a job. I wipe my tears away, pocket the note, and leave the room. It's time to go. As I exit the cabin, I spot it. A grave, a wooden stick marker poking up from it, all surrounded by stones. In the middle... is a familiar iridescent crystal. Said to bring good luck. Good health.

I swiftly push back into the forest, I have a job to do. An obligation. For my family. To get back at the bishops. After a few hours I begin to hear them. Those pestilence heretics. I catch a view from my elevated position. It looks... similar to the layout of the chaos grounds back at Rotwood. Simply with added Ombrosian flair. Rock pathing, rain catchers, crystal decorations.

I make my way closer, and try to think how I want to do this. Take them by surprise in the night? Attack in broad daylight to send a message? The rain is very light right now and a fire might be possible. That's it. I have to strike now. I'll target the ones in charge first, with the stronger fighters following them.

Activity seems to be low right now, so I'll just walk in and force my way to the temple. What if I act like a messenger first? That may do it. I walk into the open cult ground, cloven hooves clicking against the stone path. I see the temple right away, and start making my way over.

Suddenly, a monkey follower lunges at me, with a large sword. I parry with my glaive, attempting to disarm him, but his grip is tight and his resolve steeled. Still, no damage, but he doesn't seem the type to talk.

"I'm here to send a message." I calmly say.

"We don't listen to the falsehoods of chaos!" They bark out, garnering attention from the crowd. This might change things.

They strike fast and aggressively. Not nearly skilled enough to beat me, but enough to give trouble if I want to continue my plans.

Suddenly, a deep bell sound is struck, resonating throughout the cult. The monkey quickly withdraws from our fight upon hearing it. Interesting.

"It seems the leader and his right hand wish to speak to you directly. Lucky you." The monkey sneers.

Two figures make themselves known from the crowd. One hooded, one without, with antlers.

The larger figure removes their hood, and deep purple fur with large ears poke out. Beside him, I finally recognize a familiar set of blue eyes.

[ambiguouspuzuma]

The Cobbler

Cordelia wasn't supposed to be a pirate. Most pirates weren't, of course, but she imagined that they'd started out as sailors or thieves and transitioned in one direction or the other. For her part, she'd only been a cobbler, a mender of old boots: she'd never stolen nor sailed at all, let alone served as a buccaneering captain. But this ship had needed a crew, and so she'd cobbled one together. 

It was all in aid of the mission, or so the prophets had explained. The Caterian Empire had hung for too long like a shadow across their coastline, lurking just across the water from the town where Cordelia had been born, raised, and hoped to one day retire, if they survived this voyage of the damned. Their island was small, and couldn't muster much of an army to slow the Empire's ravenous advance, which had already consumed so many of their peers.

But it could muster her - and she'd pulled together the rest.

"Why have you come to me?" she'd protested at the time, when the prophets appeared at her door. Cordelia had understood their warnings of imminent doom, the threat of conquest, the need for a chosen one to defeat the evil once and for all - she just hadn't understood why that meant her. "I'm not a soldier. I'm a shoemaker, for crying out loud. I'm not the sort of person who wins battles."

"Well, that's sort of the point," one of the prophets had replied, knocking one of a pair of boots off the shelf behind him. "Are you familiar with the concept of langrage?"

"Not unless that's you struggling to speak ours."

"It's a nautical term," he continued, ignoring her. "When a ship runs out of conventional shot, it loads its guns with whatever lies handy: nuts and bolts, cutlery and clockwork, anything that might tear an opposing sail to shreds. Even shoes, in a pinch. Sometimes they even do it by choice, a cannonade of loose ephemera over your traditional balls of steel."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Cordelia stood firm, demonstrating some of the latter. "Why are you in my home? What do you want from me?"

"We've studied the histories," another said, and from the lines around his eyes she believed him. "Any sufficiently potent evil, your archetypical dark lord or dragon, is always defeated by a motley band of unlikely heroes. Always and only. The soldiers on their own can't make it all the way. We don't know why, but something about having a mixture of backgrounds and skillsets works out better."

"Many organisations have found they benefit from diverse hiring practices," the first prophet said. "Why not an army?"

The other shoe dropped, and Cordelia leant against a wall, momentarily deflated. "You want to build an army... of people like me?"

"Well, sort of."

"A load of old cobblers?"

"We thought so too, but it checks out." The prophet paused to stack the boots back up. "But the point is to find people who aren't like you. A real assortment of profiles, you know? Think about all the tools you use in your craft, the rasp and last and awl and all of that. Each serves a different function. That's the sort of effect we're going for."

"But who, specifically?" she asked, still wondering why they'd chosen her. Perhaps they hadn't, and just knocked on a random door. "How will you decide upon this perfect, random mix?"

"Well," they said. "We were rather hoping that you would."

Cordelia tried her best to follow their approach. If she was planning this endeavour of her own accord - perhaps after some trauma to the head - she knew that there were certain people she'd look to recruit for her crew, and others who she wouldn't trust to scrub the decks. But if the prophets had chosen her house at random, she would have to do the same.

Her list of customers was a solidly mixed assortment of potential allies, and she thought about drawing names from a hat, before realising that she already had them in order: she had a schedule of commissions, and figured she'd just press-gang those who'd come to her. It would mean acting out a reverse Cinderella: choosing anyone who had a shoe that didn't fit.

She had to start somewhere, so she started with those who already owed her for repairs, including Aldous, the actor whose boots had been shelved by the door. A career of treading the boards had worn them down. She wondered how he'd feel about walking the plank.

"I've got your boots," she said, once he opened the door. There was no time for pleasantries. They'd have plenty of chance to catch up on the open seas.

"Ah, wonderful." He beamed for his audience of one. "You know, costumes come and go, but you absolutely cannot beat a comfy pair of shoes. One does so much of one's work on one's feet, and people really do underestimate-"

"Speaking of which," she interrupted, wishing to be spared the soliloquy. "Are you in the market for a new role?"

"Well, one would never rule oneself out at first blush, so to say, at least without-"

"Excellent. It's yours."

"Mine? I mean, one's? But what is it?"

"First mate."

"A nautical tale?"

"A pirate adventure."

"Oh, how marvellous! Yes, one always fancied oneself as a swashbuckler, but of course such roles are rare nowadays. When do we start rehearsals?"

"The ship is being readied as we speak. We leave at dawn, two days for now." Then, because it was important to maintain a sense of fun. "Please bring your own costume."

It hadn't been how she'd pictured it, until the prophets had explained. The Caterian Empire was a fortress, their borders well-defended, and even a small band of adventurers would struggle to sneak all the way into the palace at its heart. But sea was a different matter, and every now and again the Emperor found the need to travel to one vassal isle or the next, placing himself uniquely vulnerable to attack.

"If you challenge them under the flags of this island, there will be reprisals here first," they'd said. "But under a black flag, you can operate in the shadows. Befriend the others who live there, if you can. Form a pirate fleet, guerrillas of the sea, chipping away at the Empire's naval strength. If they can't leave the mainland, their armies are irrelevant. That is how you'll win."

"By starting at a disadvantage."

"The heroes always do. They're never under an official flag, the admiral of their own armada. They're rogues, rascals, underdogs against overwhelming odds. The less likely your victory, the more inevitable it will be."

Cordelia's next recruit came to her, which was convenient, although she wouldn't have chosen her in a million years. Janina worked in the citrus orchards, and was famously all fingers and thumbs with anything smaller than a clementine, but she just about managed to knock on the door with a pair of shoes in her other hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you with this," he said, handing one over with some gratitude. "But I'm afraid I've done something awful to the laces. They'd unravelled when I came to put them on this morning, and I seem to have made more of a mess trying to rethread them. Sorry, I know it's a difficult one."

"Mhm." Cordelia held her tongue, and inspected the eyelets around it. She didn't know much about sailing, but she suspected a pirate's life involved some quantity of ropes and knots. If she was choosing a crew from her customers, she might choose those who tied the neatest bows. But the prophets had stressed the hodgepodge nature of successful groups, thrown together by fate. She would have to trust in the randomness of shoe entropy.

"Oh, thank you so much," Janina said, once the first aglet was successfully laced back through. "I don't know what I'd do without your help. Is there anything I can do to make it worth your while?"

"Funny you should say that," Cordelia said. "I'm looking for a quartermaster, and a bulk order of oranges. have some concerns about scurvy."

So it was that she formed her makeshift crew. Aldous and Janina were followed by Leonore, a smith whose steel toecaps had come loose, and Florian, a draper who had simply lost his sole. As the prophets had insisted, they were a diverse mix of characters as well as trades. Leonore was a pillar of the community, as straight-laced as they came, whereas Florian had been a misfit his whole life - although Cordelia had given him some insoles to help with that.

"Have you ever made a sail before?" she asked, making her own stitches where the rubber had come away.

"I have many customers," he said, taken aback.

"No - I mean for a ship. I'm looking to commission one. I'll need help with the installation, too."

"Oh, well. Yes, I could certainly help with that."

She felt a bit of a heel, fixing his shoe for so great a cost, weaving him into her multicoloured tapestry. None of these people knew how to fight, or sail; life at sea would be hard for them, even without the dangers of rebellion . But she was in the same boat, and supposedly that was the point. They were bystanders turned to weapons: collateral damage that went the other way, a human sword instead of a shield. That was what the prophets said would work.

So it was they assembled two days later, arrayed across the deck like cards of different suits. The prophets had arranged the ship, and dubbed it in her honour: the Shoemaker’s Levy, for the rabble she'd been able to rouse. Not the island's most seaworthy individuals, nor the most skilled, but those who'd had the most trouble walking on land.

Those who hadn't already been assigned were quickly shoehorned into roles, but it would take a while before they could be called a crew. Even Cordelia would struggle to adjust to life as their captain: she'd always been a sole practitioner, only used to working with winklepickers and brothelcreepers, not actors and blacksmiths and the rest. She wasn't supposed to be a pirate, let alone their leader. But they would have to learn the ropes together, just as she'd once learnt about shoes. One foot after the other. One step at a time.

[wundrousarts]

Various Wundersmith thoughts and things I've noticed after rereading the book for yet another time:

This one is significantly longer and a little bit more random than my recent Nevermoor reread, but who cares 🤷 the more the merrier!

There are things both serious (theories, thematic parallels, etc.) and silly (jokes, personal reactions). This time around I discovered the annotations feature in Apple Books and had a lot of fun with that, so I'll try to include the bits I highlighted when necessary. Enjoy!

— I don't mean to have a shippingbrain, but it feels impossible to view Jupiter and Israfel as anything but exes/folks that had a Thing in the beginning, omg.

—— Israfel throwing the "old friend" back at Jove..... my note for this one was "#gay"

— I like the interest Mog has in Bohemia, and I'm interested based on that one Silverborn snippet for her to return (and eventually explore other parts of the city as well)

— Jupiter referring to the junkies as "they're not patrons of the fine arts" feels like a nice little set up for the Museum later on. Thought of and admired as an art piece, but the rich folks at the auction don't actually care about the work put into it.

— Do you think the folks at Wunsoc that organize the little show that welcomes 919 are a little peeved that the Fireblossom's being reignited means that they can't perch creepily in them anymore lol.

— I wonder if the Wunsoc Oath has a pre- or post- Massacre origin

“The nature of Miss Crow’s unusual –" she paused, seeming to catch herself before calling it a ‘knack’ – "situation.” (Ch2)

—— Elder Quinn hesitates to refer to Mog's power as a knack, so I wonder if that's just a general thing of Wundersmithery being different, or if knacks are a post-Massacre categorization

— I love how this book really starts to solidify the theme of family in Nevermoor... Wunsoc, her Unit, the Deucalion, Wundersmiths, the Crows, her mother..... AAAHHHH!!! I can't wait to see where it all goes.

— A "note sealed with silver wax" from "the Celes-" ..... YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!!! 😁😁😁

—— Likely about Cassiel but even that and beyond could tie into a lot of other Silverborn Theories..... Noelle..... The Silver District....... I will keep this all in mind

—— Also, updating my SIlverborn Masterpost posthaste ✍️✍️✍️

— It likely doesn't matter and will never be explained, but I wonder if the room between student's houses and their hometrain station is part of the Gossamer, and like a thin place between worlds

— Miss Cheery's first outfit is so y2k I need to draw her. It makes sense because she's like 20 in this book.

— The Wunsoc circle diagram has always interested me since I first read it. I wonder if the size of the circles ever means anything??

—— Could it relate to the probability (?) of the knacks? Mundane is the most common to occur, Arcane more specialized, and then Wundersmiths are very, very rare

—— Something I often forget is that folks in Wunsoc that weren't Wundersmiths have always existed. Were there more than 9 of them in each year? Were there always 9 non-Wundersmiths? Did the trials always exist? What was the relationship between non-Wundersmiths and Wundersmiths like?

—— On that note, did C&D only become the Wunsoc motto / purpose post-Massacre? Or did they do that before as well? If the motives of Wunsoc have changed over the years, has what they look for in students changed as well?

“Everybody at Wunsoc has a job to get on with – every junior and senior scholar, every graduate, every teacher, every patron, every Elder and every Master.” (Ch5)

— I am still forever curious about what Masters are, and why they are on the same level or possibly even slightly higher than Elders

—— Are they previous Elders? Are they people who excel in their craft? I'd like to say there could be a connection to Wundrous Apprenticeships but 1. those seemed like a natural given, 2. likely aren't really around anymore, and 3. I'm not really sure why they would have so much authority if so.

—— I like to headcanon that senior scholars do internships/apprenticeships

— Something that makes me laugh is that I will famously agonize over something, in this case the Wunsoc academic school year, only to discover upon a reread that it is explicitly stated how it works. lol.

— Brilliance Amadeo and her predecessors are referred to as "First-Line Wundersmiths." This likely relates to the chambers in the Liminal Hall in Sub-Nine that we see in Hollowpox.

—— Knowing Jess, I bet that either Mog or Squall are part of the Ninth Line

“Your kind are … all … dead," continued Professor Onstald. "And if they’re … not –" he blinked his watery eyes at her and took a long, rasping breath – "they should be.” (Ch6)

“My duty is not … to save you … from yourself. It is to show you … that you are … beyond saving. All of your … kind … are beyond …” (Ch6)

“If you were half the Wundersmith you ought to be by now, it wouldn’t be possible for me to tap into your power like this. (Ch24)

— I've had a theory post on the progression of Wundersmiths in society towards the Massacre in the works for awhile that I've postponed until after my Hollowpox reread, but:

—— What if it was a group effort?

——— There's a part in one of the books that's like, "Squall led his fellow Wundersmiths in a coup, and then turned on them" and as much as Wunsoc likes to spin and fabricate things, I think that this could also be true. What caused Squall to turn? That's a mystery we'll have to unravel later...

———— This book is heavy on Squall controlling and manipulating folks, both literally with Wunder but also mentally with words, so could be interesting if that played a part in the revolt

— Regardless, something spooked Onstald enough to turn from admiring and studying Wundersmiths and their ways to hating them, and I'll forever be interested in what happened.

—— I think there could be some slight truth in him viewing all Wundersmiths as bad, because some stuff, like Mathilde's Morbid Museum (lol), could indicate some darker inclinations by folks other than Squall

— Maybe I'm an idiot for not realizing this before, but I don't think it was Jupiter that got Mog/919 into the Maps class.

“I have dedicated my life to taming this monstrous city, and I love her with every fiber of my being.” (Ch8)

“Goodness. You’ve only been here a year? And yet you and Nevermoor seem to go hand in glove. It’s almost like this place was made just for you.” (Ch8)

—— So Squallish. I wonder if anything he said was coached.

—— Do you think this is how he got him on his side? Did they bond over both being obsessed with Nevermoor?

— I think a lot of Mildmay's problems would have been fixed if he had simply been more proactive about networking instead of turning to a life of crime. I mean, he's only 19, just out of school! Way to quit early, dude.

One bite brought on the specific sensation of bittersweet late-summer nostalgia … which sent Francis straight back to the test kitchen, as he’d actually been aiming for the carefree abandon of a mid-summer music festival. (Ch9)

— I wonder how much of Francis's knack/what he cooks/cooks with has a Wundrous origin. I'm also often reminded of the Smoking Parlor.

—— I like to relate it to my Communication "Art" but alternatively... does remind me of Israfel's voice. Curious about how Celestials and Wunder interact.

—— Alice Frankenreiter of 915 is mentioned as a shapeshifter..... how Masquerade-esque. Another point for the "knacks being related to Arts" theory?

——— I also have to point out how funny to me the "Franken-" is with the knack. lol. (makes me think about Frankenstein)

— There is a "noise like a thousand tinkling bells" when the Ghastly Market is revealed. This noise also shows up in the other two books during the Christmas Eve battle. In a world where magic by Wundersmiths heavily involves singing in order to use Wunder, I like the further comparisons of magic and sound. Will keep an eye out for more during Hollowpox.

—— We see this as well with this line:

Her fear and revulsion and rage swelled inside her like a symphony (Ch16)

which I just annotated as "music/art comparison. slay."

——— On that note, I feel like the connection between Wundersmiths/Divinities and the Celestials being explored more could be interesting, as both of their powers involve singing. I'm curious how/if their magic overlaps.

— The fact that the Loyalty Trial was from the Elders and thus they were the ones who asked Cadence to humiliate Baz will never not be funny

— Chapter 18 mentions a "Polaris Hill." Named after Griselda Polaris?

— Have to say: Between being excited about a killer flytrap and teaching 919 swears, an underrated Mahir trait is that he is actually very silly.

— If you've ever seen me call the Gossamer-Spun Garden the "Wundergarden", please know that the Murdergarden is 100% why lol

— I hope hope HOPE!!! we get some proper definitions someday for the Wundrous Act Classifications. Like Spectacle, Phenomenon, Singularity, etc... I hope we get to learn what they each are someday!!!

“To do just what a Wundersmith does," One corner of Squall’s mouth twisted into a quarter-smile.” ... "To grant your fondest wish. To give you the thing you want more than anything else.” (Ch19)

— I feel like this line is often overlooked and is an underrated hint at what a Wundersmith's role in society was like

— I'm a bit of a pessimist (SORRY) about the movie adaptation, and once thing about this book is that I'm mourning that it'll probably never get adapted.

—— I think that the idea of Nevermoor as a movie musical works so much better with Wundersmith because there's so much more magic and music and singing in this one, with both Israfel and the first Nocturne lessons. I could see it the integration of the non-diegetic (?) songs that the characters sing and the themes of the movie/books work better with this book than the first one just because of that.

—— Also the theatricality of characters such as Squall and Mildmay is off the charts in this book! I'd even throw Dearborn and Murgatroyd in there as well. I think they could make for more interesting characters in a movie musical than the general supporting cast of the first book.

—— I'd say that perhaps they could mix and mash stuff from both books 1 and 2 into a single movie, but I don't know if they have rights past the first book.

Squall cocked his head to one side, a deep frown etched into his forehead. ... Squall took a step towards her. He looked like he was remembering something. (Ch19)

— I wonder why he recognizes the song!

—— Curious if anyone else has their own theories on this they want to share. I brought this up in the discord a few months ago and have yet to make a proper post but here's my idea:

——— Squall's song and Mog's song are very similar in a few ways, so perhaps one of the songs was influenced by / is “descended from” so to say from the other, or they have a common ancestor.

——— Could explain why Little Crowling is familiar to Mog and Morningtide’s Child is familiar to Squall

... into the cold embrace of a capricious and unknowable city. (Ch19)

— This is like, baby's first comparison, but I do enjoy how this refers not only to Nevermoor but also Squall just a moment earlier. They are sooooo linked. I wonder if there's other moments like this in the book that I've missed.

— The Jemmity Park stuff is interesting to think about because I think Odbuoy is the youngest Wundersmith present at the time of the Massacre.

—— The idea of him being the youngest I feel then fits with him making the park only work for children, as that seems appropriately mischievous.

——— Because of my (outdated tbh) Eventide theories, I had a silly theory he was 7 when he made the park, but when you think about that more, it falls apart. A little funny to think about though, ngl.

— Anyone else think that the Elders should have told Jupiter about Sub-Nine in case he wanted a part in that? I feel like as a patron and adoptive father figure of a Wundersmith, he might want some access to Wundersmith history and culture. His excursions to the park and Cascade Falls really prove an interest and he could be helpful to the group.

— Morrigan compares Squall's Séance Synchronicity to Coven 13 in the Fright Trial... are these magics connected at all, or will we learn more about the different magics in the world at some point?

Squall held his hands out – palms downward, twisted into claws – and made his fingers dance like a puppeteer twitching strings. (Ch24)

— I find it so funny how the Puppeteering (also known as Marionette) parallels– the statue in the Elder's hall, the stunt with the Charlton Five on the platform, and this scene– were so obvious, and yet it took a solid 2 years after Wundersmith's release (right before Hollowpox was out!) for somebody to bring it up for the first time. And now everyone accepts it as basically canon lol!

— Wonder if the Wundrous Arts sign got changed to Wretched Arts before or after Squall's exile, in order for him to know about it. I have some theories on the timeline of all that that I'll share at a later date.

— I often forget and I think it's often overlooked that the Magnificub growing was Squall's doing, not just Mog's.

—— Wonder if he was stalking her that night as normal OR detected her intention and swooped in OR was there already due to the auction

— The way that Squall bows dramatically to tease Mog and then Mildmay does the same a chapter later is so funny.

“There are far greater monsters –" his eyes flashed – "and far greater dangers. Miss Crow, we have a shared enemy you could never imagine. If the Wundrous Society doesn’t take you off the leash, if you aren’t given the freedom to grow, to become the Wundersmith I need you to be … then terrible things are coming down the line. For both of us.” (Ch24)

— War in Arc 3 pleaseeee

—— It's interesting because it seems that Nevermoor/Free State has been relatively peaceful ever since restructuring… but the Wintersea Republic has had the same amount of time to build up! And now they’re looking to take the last slice of the pie…..

“There. That feeling. That fire in your heart, that spark of anger and fear. Focus on it. Feel it. The flickering, burning anger inside – THAT is Inferno.” (Ch24)

— What if each of the Arts are bolstered by an emotion? Doesn't seem so but 🤷 could be a fun AU idea perhaps

— A lot of the description of Inferno in this book– a flame or firework in Morrigan's chest– reminds me so much of Howls Moving Castle (2004) that it's on my eternal to-do list to draw.

— Between Mog's lessons in this book and Goldberry's circular breathing, I think it's interesting how much of Inferno relates to breath

—— "Breath of life" ?

—— Could relate back to music/singing, which is needed to summon Wunder

—— Do any of the other Arts (excluding Nocturne and Inferno) have any connections to breath that we know of? Or even are just aligned with a specific part of the body? If anyone has any thoughts on this, please do share!

— Anyone else like to think about the Hunt of Smoke and Shadow and the way the Hollowpox hunted? No? Just me? Okay

—— I think that Wundersmiths definitely probably have specialties– and these are based on natural affinities, NOT lineage– and Mog's is likely Inferno whereas Squall's is likely Veil

He took a deep bow, still laughing. (Ch25)

— My note for this line and the whole scene was simply, "🖕 WORST 19 YEAR OLD EVER" lol

“You saved my life tonight. I find myself in your debt." He watched her for a moment, pressing his mouth into a line. Morrigan could tell he wanted to say something more, but wasn’t sure if he should … or perhaps he couldn’t quite find the right words. Israfel breathed a deep sigh. "You’d do well not to mention that to the folks at Wunsoc. I shouldn’t be in your debt.” (Ch27)

— What does this all meannnnn

— Interesting how Jupiter mentions that he thinks Cassiel's disappearance is unconnected to all the Ghastly Market stuff

—— I've mentioned before (maybe not on here, sorry) that the timing could perhaps line up in order for Cassiel to be the Celestial that Noelle's knack is stolen from, if we want to go with that theory

— Mog saying that Squall said something funny, as in weird, yet Jupiter's first response is to ask if he said something "funny haha" is so funny to me. Why is that his first response.

— Folks have mentioned it before, but I'd love some more bonding between Mog and Lam based on the fact that they're both from the Republic

— Elder Quinn refers to Mog as "our Wundersmith" as in like, just another brother and sister in Wunsoc, but it could be interesting if that wording is ever brought up again to try to use Mog, or make her do something no one else can because of her powers, like in the days of old

And finally (about 3k words later):

— Lam is referred to as "the smallest of all of them" in terms of 919. Not to me! While I wholeheartedly believe she is certainly short, she's not the shortest for me. #ShortMogSupremacy.

[cuddlebetter]

Wilson Percival Higgsbury x Reader (DST) (comfort from a panic attack :3)

Y/N's feet almost left the ground as Wilson spots them running down a hill, keeping quick on their feet they duck out from the jaws of a Terrorbeak- darting past the bite of a crawling horror as fearful eyes scan what's in front of themselves

Y/N runs into Wilson- falling backwards they hit the ground and wince from the sharp pain of the fall as Wilson stumbles backwards " Y/N!-? What are you doing running like that!? " he huffs, his eyes fixed to Y/N's fearful stare

" . . . Y/N? " his voice grows worried, darting up to the faint flickers of a Terrorbeak's open jaws above Y/N as his eyes widen- his hands quickly snap up as he draws out his spear, stabbing at the air where the terrorbeak's faint outline was to him- causing it to screech as it fads from his view again

" Terrorbeak's . . . Y/N are you feeling okay? . . . " his eyes slowly meet Y/N's once more- Y/N still sitting themselves up shakily, fearful eyes darting around as Wilson moves closer . . .

Wilson's voice softens as he sits on his knee next to " Y/N look at me- Hey, Hey!, what's wrong? Y/N?- " tears begin falling down Y/N's face as a panic attack begins to set in, their sanity having dropped to next to nothing as fear seems to overwhelm their mind

Wilson stands himself up, thinking quick on his feet he begins picking fist fulls of flowers close by- snapping his head up to Y/N ever few moments as he begins to craft something, running back over before sitting back down onto his knees- softly placing a flower crown on Y/N's head

Wilson's hands slowly move down from the top of Y/N's head to the side's of their face, making Y/N look towards him " Look at me, please- Your safe now, I promise- Breath with me, nice and slow- okay? "

the two seem to stare at one another for a few moments before Y/N shakily breaths in, Wilson copy's Y/N- waiting until Y/N exhales before he himself exhales " Now- Again, Your safe- I promise you as a scientist, Your safe now- okay? " he gives a warm smile to Y/N . . . Y/N stares at him blankly for a few moments, sniffling and trying to wipe away their own tears before Wilson pulls Y/N into a hug, resting their head on his chest as he softly pets their back

" This isn't really something I studied for but, Fear is . . . Relentless- powerful even, it can alter our mines and change the way we see things- change how we act as well, I've been here longer then you have and had my fair share of Fearsome days but unlike you I didn't have anybody to help me, and I don't what that to happen to you- okay? "

y/N lifts up their head a little- staring at Wilson as he stares down at Y/N in his arms, Y/N slowly nods- wrapping their arms around Wilson before nuzzling their head back onto his chest . . .

" As long as I'm alive, fit and fighting- I'll do my best to keep you safe, even when Fear tells you otherwise " Wilson speaks with a soft tone- still petting Y/N's back softly as Y/N shakily breaths . . .

" Your safe . . . Your safe . . . " he humms again, softly as always with Y/N- even giving Y/N a small kiss on Y/N's forehead as Y/N now sits on his lap, still wrapped up in his arms- what fear Y/N had within their mind seems to have left, at least for the most part . . .

[ End ] ( not 100% sure how well this turned out cause I don't know a lot about panic attacks, this is also my first Character X reader thing I've made )

[playroom-sekaii]

Hello!! could you do some little mizu & cg ena hcs if thats okay (>^ω^<)

Alright, here you go! :D

-Mizuki's the epitome of a chaos toddler, normally slipping to around 3-4 years old. They can go a bit younger if they're feeling especially bad, but Ena's there to help them feel all better!

- They're a voluntary regressor, usually after having to go to school they'll use the evening to relax and feel small. They don't usually like letting others be around them when they're little though (not only from thinking it would be like their other secret, but I sort of headcanon that they've had bad experiences in their past telling others that they're an age regressor, making them even more nervous about letting anyone know), but Ena is working to help them feel more comfortable with it. When their anxiety over their secret gets especially bad, they involuntarily regress, which is normally when they allow Ena to step in and help.

-Ena is currently one of only two of Mizuki's true friends that know about this part of them, the other being Rui. She wants to do everything she can to help them when they're small, wishing to support their mental health however she can. Though she'd never admit it, she spent a lot of time researching how to be a good caregiver for them, along with thinking about when she was younger with Akito.

-Ena's quite good at telling when Mizuki's trying to hide that they're regressed. Their voice gets a bit mumbly, their teasing doesn't hit as hard as it usually does, they tend to fidget with looser parts of their outfits. Even if they try to deny it, Ena will tell them that it's okay, and try to take them somewhere more secluded if they're in public or start a private Nightcord call if they're not physically together.

-Little Mizuki absolutely loves playing dress-up, it's their favorite thing in the world! They let Ena pick out special outfits for them to wear, and then they put on a little fashion show for her! Sometimes Ena gives them small makeovers as well, and she occasionally lets Mizuki do the same for her (sure, her little one's attempts at doing her makeup make her look like a clown, but she's proud of their hard work!)

-Ena enjoys getting to do arts and crafts with her small one - coloring, drawing, finger painting, she absolutely cherishes every piece Mizuki makes while little. They really like watching Ena draw as well, she can make almost anything, it's like she's magic! There have been a few incidents of Mizuki coloring on Ena's walls, and while she was quite proud of her little one's art, she didn't want to get in trouble with her parents so she had to scrub it off-

-Sometimes Mizuki will want to play games with Ena, be it board games or things like hide and seek, but they're quite a competitive and sneaky small one. Making up rules on the fly is quite common, much to the annoyance of Ena ("An' I can go a extra space!" "What?! Why?" "Cuz I'm special!" "I mean, you are, but..." "Hehe~")

-Mizuki still teases Ena a bit while they're little, though their attempts don't hit as hard as when they're big. Ena likes to pretend that they're the most insulting things she's ever been told, though this sometimes makes Mizuki worry that they've genuinely upset her ("Ena you butthead!" "*gasp* Goodness, Mizuki! How dare!" "Wait Ena no-")

-Cuddles are very abundant! Whenever Mizuki's upset or tired, or just randomly, the two of them will end up on Ena's bed surrounded by plushies, it makes Mizu feel especially safe and happy <3

-Mizuki's favorite stuffed animal while little is a cat Ena got them that they named Amethyst (though they sometimes struggle with the pronunciation, simply calling her Ammy), they take her everywhere with them. If Ammy goes missing you will not know peace around little Mizu until she is found.

-Ena is somewhat overprotective of lil Mizu, she always tends to go the extra mile to make sure nothing happens that could cause them to be hurt or upset. Mizuki thinks she's being a bit silly when she worries like this, but they truly are grateful for how much she cares for them ♡