#Uhh an au I made

[misty-zzz]

BROKEN TITANS AU

my msm au lol, 🤩🤩

Just some things I wanna say:

Some parts maybe similar to the fs AU, this au is inspired by the fs au. But most of the time, I thought of those parts before I got to read the similar parts. 

ANYWAYS, plz enjoy 😋😋

Tootoo is literally a self insert, I swear 

🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️

    Tootoo wasn’ t the happiest today, a party for Sky Painting was going right outside the castle. She didn’t exactly like the fire works, or just being at a party in general. “I wish the party could just end…” complains the Tootoo. The party had been going on for hours. The door opens, Sooza enters the room, “ I hope the party isn’t too loud,” she says locking the door. “It’s alright Sooza, but how was it for you?” Asks Tootoo. Sooza plops onto the bottom part of the bunk bed they shared. “It was alright, mostly hanged out with pluckbill.”

      Tootoo gets back to what ever they were doing before. “Whatcha doing anyways?” Sooza climbs to the top bunk. “You’re making a lot of noise, and I can’t read my comic!” 

“I’m putting up these posters I drew,” drawings of Tootoo’s original characters hangs on the wall. “I forget that you’re a really good drawer.” Sooza gets up onto the bed. “What’s their name?” She points at an almost hoo-man like character. “That’s Delta, she’s a mix of a hoo-man and what the hoo-mans call, I think they’re called a dragon..?” It responds. “Well that’s very cool, but I think we should both go to sleep.” Sooza climbs back down, and gets to bed. 

     Tootoo wakes up. Everyone in the castle wakes up. Everyone on the island wakes up. A shift within the titan made everyone awakened. “Sooza, what was that…” Tootoo hangs off the edge of the bunk bed looking at her sister. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to check it out.” Tootoo thinks for a moment, “Well… you keep on being a Snooza, but I want to check it out.” Tootoo climbs down, with the soft bells from the shoes making that soft noise. “Be safe, dont die, or get lost…” 

     Tootoo walks outside, to see many more monster on light island crowded around trying to figure out what just happened. Monsters all spoke about their theories. Most monsters were convinced it was an earthquake. Even if it was a small one, Tootoo wasn’t fully convinced by this. “But Light island isnt on top of any tectonic plates…” mumbles Tootoo, remembering their lessons from school. So they go off away from this crowd. It was too loud anyways.

 She goes to the edge of the island. Near the eyes of phosphorus. She sits on the edge, they like to have her legs dangle, but was also scared that she might fall off into the endless ocean below. Tootoo’s hands feel groves and cracks. “This island is one of the younger islands. It shouldn’t have this many cracks at this age…” She traces the cracks, which seemed to form from the eyes, and they where opened…

I hoped you like this au im working on!!!

sorry if there’s any mistakes

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[eyenaku]

let it be known i thought abt fool the whole time i drew noon AHA <3

gift for @little-sw33tie <3 - GITM by @venomous-qwille

alt colour:

[zecoritheweirdone]

okay so i have, like. a lot of msa doodles that i just haven't posted anywhere,, mostly of aus i've barely talked about, if at all,,, and like. i've mostly been waiting on posting some of them until i writes lil smth 'bout 'em,, since i have a habit of sharing art for aus and then never doing anything with them again,,, but like. haven't been in the mood to write for a while 👍. so i might as well share 'em now instead of letting them rot,, dkdjsks. so here's a peek at what goes on inside my mind!

(the last doodle was colored by sap @/pinesented my good friend sap)

[holysheithyall]

i made. an au.

newly graduated journalist tony becker spends most of his time trying to solve the infamous serial disappearances case. after running into multiple dead ends, he finally has a promising lead. unfortunately this ends up with him becoming a cult’s target. oh well.

[skyward-floored]

Another fic with my one zelda au, where Link is corrupted and forced to hunt Zelda. Takes place sometime after this fic here.

Even corrupted heroes need their sleep... which luckily gives Link a bit of a break. Along with more than he expects.

————————————————————

Thunder rumbles, and Link drifts into awareness.

It takes him a moment to get himself to move, even when the sound of a sword swinging drifts through the air, and he slowly blinks his eyes open and looks around.

The sky is grey above his head, thick with clouds that threaten to release a steady rain. Link carefully sits up, a deep, heavy ache in his chest, and realizes the ground around him is a vast expanse of water, stretching as far as he can see. Somehow he isn’t wet though, and he touches a hesitant hand to the liquid, tilting his head at the odd feeling.

It strikes him then that he’s moving of his own volition, no darkness instructing his steps, no whispered orders aiming his sword.

He can think clearly.

Link takes in a shuddering breath, almost unable to believe it. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been under Vaati’s control, but it feels like it’s been weeks. And he’s finally able to move, and breathe, and stand up without a voice screaming in his head that he needs to kill all of his master’s enemies.

The sounds of a fight ring out again, and Link looks to his side, eyes widening at the sight.

A mass of darkness lurks mere feet away, swirling with faint dashes of purple and red. The dread that hits Link when he sees it is like an arrow to his chest, but then he sees something else.

There’s a man moving among the shadows, moving so fast that Link can’t easily focus on him. From where Link is standing it looks like he’s faintly glowing, green and gold, and his sword flashes in the light as he swings it. The mass of shadows the man is currently fighting lets out an odd howl, and he slices it neatly in two, before turning to another behind him.

Link would help him, but he feels rooted in place, unable to do anything but watch as the glowing man dispenses the shadows with terrifying efficiency.

He thrusts his sword into the last heaving mass of darkness, and Link hears a faint wail as it shrivels away, the space finally clear of enemies.

The man exhales, taking a moment to breathe, and Link isn’t sure what to do.

He’s saved from deciding when the man turns towards him, and Link is struck with the sheer presence he exudes, something ancient and strong, like one of the towering trees in Faron’s woods. He isn’t sure whether to bow or try to fight, but the decision is taken from him when the man lowers his sword, and looks at him fondly.

“Hello, Link,” he greets, voice gentle, but strong. “I’ll admit I’m somewhat surprised you’re here.”

Link narrows his eyes at the odd familiarity, and the man hums.

“I apologize, this must be strange to you. You’re asleep,” the man explains, and Link nods, relaxing a bit. Ah. A dream, then.

He’s a little surprised he can dream in his current state, but he won’t complain. Being able to trust his actions and make decisions for himself, even in nothing but a dream that won’t last, is extremely relieving.

Apparently he hasn’t lost all of his humanity.

“Don’t be mistaken though. You’re asleep, yes, but this isn’t... exactly a dream,” the man says, as if reading his thoughts. “Which is why I was surprised to see you here.”

“And where is here?” Link asks quietly, breaking his usual silence.

The man sighs, resting his hands on his sword as he gently plants it into the ground before him. “That is a complicated question. I guess the simplest way to put it would be... inside you. Deep in your very being. Your mind, or soul. Spirit perhaps. The part of you that makes you, you.”

Link must make a face, because the man chuckles, a warm smile pulling at his cheeks.

“I know that’s strange to hear. It’s very odd that you’re this deep in your own psyche.” His face turns suddenly serious, brows creasing his previously warm expression. “It’s doubtless a product of the corruption that is attempting to fully overtake you.”

A chill runs over Link at the words, and the spot on his back where Vaati hit him with the spell aches with a bitter cold.

His legs tremble, and suddenly he’s on his knees, the heaviness he experienced upon first waking up here hitting him again. It’s worse then the first time though, and Link grits his teeth, trying to fight through it.

The glowing man looks at him in deep concern, but then a swirling mass of deep darkness wells up from the ground, approaching them both with an unholy moan.

He whirls around and slices at it, and Link is unable to do much except watch him fight. He’s not sure how the man is landing hits on a literal mass of darkness, but fight he does, and he fights well. The more the man slices at the darkness, the better Link feels, and the thick shadows are no match for his incredible swordsmanship.

They’re soon dispensed with a wail, and Link can breathe again, though shakily.

The man lowers his sword with a sigh, and returns to Link’s side, offering him a hand up. Link takes it, a warmth running through him at the contact, and the man doesn’t let go once he’s upright, looking into his eyes with such an intense sadness that Link isn’t sure what to do.

“You are in quite the difficult situation,” he says gently, and Link looks away.

“I was attacked with dark magic,” he quietly admits. “In my waking hours it forces me to obey its master. I’m powerless to stop it.”

The spirit nods, a grieved look on his face. “Yes. I know. The corruption runs deep. It was a very cleverly designed spell... it cut straight to your spirit, deep enough that I have to actively fight it off. It’s attempting to corrupt even me. You’ve shielded me well so far, but I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

Link looks back at the man, feeling a strange recognition in his face, the brightness in his eyes, the kindness in his gaze. There’s a feeling of other about the man, something dangerous as a lighting strike, but also something so familiar and warm that it aches.

“Who are you?” Link asks.

The man smiles gently, and lifts his hand, placing it on Link’s shoulder.

“I’m you. I’m all of us. I’m Courage,” he says, and the word strikes deep, a warmth blossoming in Link’s middle like a flower in spring. “I’m the Spirit of the Hero, forged in fire and trial. I’m a gift, and a burden, one that emerges only in great time of need. I’m you. You’re me.”

A tear falls down Link’s cheek, and the man tenderly wipes it away, his touch like that of a parent.

“Not many heroes meet me face-to-face during their life,” he admits. “You’re one of very few... I only wish our meeting could be under better circumstances. Unfortunately you have to take what you can get sometimes.”

“I’m no hero,” Link interrupts, speaking around the lump in his throat.

“...No?”

The spirit raises an eyebrow, and Link swallows. “I allowed myself to be ambushed and corrupted, I fought against my fellow knights— I don’t know the fate of any of them, but some of them must be dead. I’ve harmed innocents. Vaati is planning to use me to hunt down the princess herself. What’s heroic about any of that?”

“You didn’t want to do any of those things, did you?” The spirit asks in a firm voice.

Link slowly shakes his head.

“That’s what I thought. The fact that you’re still fighting now is a testament to your nature,” he says gently, cupping Link’s cheek. “If you weren’t a hero, you already would have given in.”

Link doesn’t reply, not willing to argue, but not entirely willing to believe him either. Zelda may have believed he was a hero, but all he’s done is fail from the moment she told him so.

What kind of a hero fails before he even begins?

The spirit searches his gaze a moment, then lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his hand back to Link’s shoulder.

“Our enemy was cleverer than usual this time around. He knew that if he corrupted you, Hyrule’s defenses would be severely weakened,” he says more quietly. “He hit us where it hurts. Even now the darkness is attempting to corrupt me. If it succeeds, you will remain a servant of darkness forever.”

Link stills, and the man squeezes his shoulder.

“Take courage, Link. You are strong, and so is your kingdom, and princess. We will not stop in our fight against the darkness,” he says firmly, and Link nods, blinking back the sting in his eyes. Hero or not, he’s not planning on giving up just yet. “You’ve been given a hard fight, harder than most, but I know that you can endure until you are freed.”

“Do you have any advice?” Link asks quietly, wiping his sleeve across his face.

“Our enemy may overestimate himself with you in his clutches. If he does, it will be up to you and your princess to take that opportunity if it arises,” he says, and Link nods. He isn’t really sure if that will ever happen, but he’ll remain hopeful just the same.

For Zelda’s sake, at least.

The spirit’s expression softens again as he looks at Link, and he glances up at the sky, then looks back at him.

“You’ll wake soon I’m afraid,” he says, and Link swallows thickly, stomach churning as the clouds above them darken.

It feels like he just got here. He doesn’t want to go back to being a mindless soldier, locked in darkness and unable to resist. The thought of being under Vaati’s control for the foreseeable future makes him want to curl up in a ball, as cowardly as that sounds, but waking from even this brief comfort threatens to make him wail.

It must show on his face, for the man gives his shoulders one last bracing squeeze.

“Courage, little brother. You’re not alone,” he says, and gives Link a hug, one so soft and safe that Link feels like he’s a child again, held in his parents’s arms.

The spirit holds him for several long moments, and Link closes his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he was hugged like this, and the spirit is warm, and safe. Normally he’d bristle at hugging someone who’s essentially a stranger to him, but this is different, and he...

He needed this.

A light kiss is pressed to his hair, and then the spirit pulls back, giving him an unimaginably fond look.

“I don’t know if we’ll be able to speak again,” he cautions, and the edges of Link’s vision suddenly darken somewhat. “But I will be here fighting all the same. Don’t lose hope.”

“Thank you,” Link says in a stronger voice than he thought he was capable of, and the spirit unsheathes his sword, the hilt glowing bright.

He smiles back at him. “You’re welcome.”

Darkness rears from the water at their feet yet again, increasing in the edges of Link’s vision, nearly overtaking his sight. He stumbles to his knees, and one of the last things he sees is the spirit thrusting his sword into the shadows, fighting for them both.

And the darkness overtakes him once again.

[emry-stars-art]

What was Abrams favorite thing that Andrew gave him during his courting attempts?

Okay I’ve been sitting on this one because I was trying to give it my best answer and like. I still don’t know lol

I know that people in the replies and tags are going to have incredible answers as well so I want this to be more of a “here’s a collection of things he likes the most” and I get to start so here’s my take:

It’s a book. I hear your valid confusion but LISTEN. In the stretch before Abram finally realizes what’s been going on with the gifts/etc, Andrew gives Abram a book - could be poetry, could be a romance story, idk - with a ribbon just barely peeking out of one page. Abram, obviously, doesn’t think much of it and he’s never been big on reading (I don’t know why I never have Neil liking to read lol is that canon) so he keeps the book on his dresser or something like “I’ll get around to it if he insists”

And then after Abram actually, clearly says he can accept Andrew’s advances, Andrew remembers about it and realizes Abram must not have ever opened the book because he would have figured this all out before now if he had

He asks him about it, if he ever read it, and Abram’s like “…no”

So Andrew tells him to. Later, when Abram’s back in his room, he picks up the book and checks out the first page, and it’s something pretty obviously unimportant or unrelated. And the next page. Eventually he thinks to check the ribbon; he flips to the pages and somewhere on them a quote is underlined in steady deep blue ink:

My glances through the eyes of friendship grow more brief by the day. You remain in the kindest, softest embrace of my heart, but now I find myself watching, hopeful, and friends do not look at friends the way I sometimes look at you.

Stunned, in a word.

But this is something he can figure out. This isn’t flowers - they’re lovely but die so quickly, and Abram doesn’t know the language of them or which ones Andrew would like. It isn’t meals shared, because that’s too common by now. It isn’t direct words or actions of affection because those are far too awkward for someone with so little experience with them. But Abram looks at this book, sees exactly what to do with it, and he knows certainly that this is a way the prince wouldn’t mind communicating because he was the first to do it. Abram doesn’t even have to be around when Andrew reads it.

So Abram spends the next several days scanning the book when he has time, finding many quotes he could perhaps imagine returning, finding a few he keeps marked just in case. Then he finds one that he doesn’t even bother marking with a scrap paper, he immediately picks up his pen and underlines it.

I look at the moon and she has your face: the brightest thing in my sky, the most beautiful, and so, so far away.

(And @jtl-fics had the sweetest idea of Abram pressing and keeping the flowers from the bouquet Andrew gets him in this post; and that he uses some to make bookmarks probably because he knows how much the prince likes books. He would definitely use one of those bookmarks to mark the page he underlined rather than the scrap ribbon 🥰)

Anyway the next time Abram sees the prince he wordlessly hands him back the book. Andrew sees the new mark but doesn’t try to open it yet (which relieves Abram more than he’ll admit), just keeping it under his arm until he has somewhere to put it. But it doesn’t take him near as long to find another quote, since he tends to get distracted reading the context or surrounding passages; he underlines the very next sentence and gets the book back to Abram the next morning. Understanding the risk of Abram’s misunderstanding and completely willing to explain himself in plain terms when Abram asks. Still with the pressed flower bookmark.

To have you near enough to touch should surely destroy me.

When Abram opens it later he first sees that the pages look very familiar - those passages look very familiar - that quote is certainly familiar. And he gets very worried very quickly. Maybe Andrew didn’t like that one, maybe Abram had chosen wrong and he didn’t know how to do this as well as he’d thought. But he doesn’t close it fast enough not to finally, mercifully read on and realize that some of the ink on the page is not his own black ink. After it, dark enough to almost be black in the wrong light, is Andrew’s dark blue.

But after reading Andrew’s quote he does in fact close the book quickly, sitting back and just staring, mostly because he’d surprised himself; he won’t know Andrew’s intention for certain until he asks, but this time - likely for the first time - Abram looks at the word destroy and doesn’t immediately think of the harm he’s done. (Andrew’s new, unfamiliar way with words had to work it’s way into Abram’s understanding eventually.)

They go on as long as there’s still quotes they like in the book, and only once does Andrew get frustrated that Abram stole one of his before he could get around to using it.

Anyway thank you for the sweet ask, here’s a quick sketch of Andrew reading to Abram in the library

[phosphorus-noodles]

had a rough day so i made an au of my au to cheer myself up <3

there's not much to this au besides these silly fellas meeting in the beastkeeping classes at school and becoming good friends (or maybe more ?! 😳🤯) but it's still cute <3

joel is in that track for sniffer autism reasons (they're both insects...) and oli is there bc his dads were like "you're a critter. you should learn about critters. go study the critters boy" (that and his name matches both tracks lol) but he really just wants to be a musician 😔 sad! also i don't know how to name palismen hope this helps

(and also shoutout to @10piecechickenmcnugget for helping me brainstorm assorted things for this thanks bestie xoxo)

[ethanharmonia]

The Hisui Trio in my AU!! :D

(they dont know how to dress up 😔)

I wanted to make reference sheets for the three, even though i took a ton of inspo from many things but its for investment i promise i promise

Those three are friends in this AU, they are all in the present world and they are like a family to each other tbh, they might get into a few arguments but they talk it out later on.

To be fair i think those three would give each other kisses, not in a romantic way though, its just more of a platonic thing i guess??

The three of them own dragon type pokemon, from gen 4, 6 and 8 (me like even numbers dont mind me), i kinda felt like these pokemon fit them best by personality (im not exactly sure for 100%)

Dropping the lore here :

The only way Adaman and Irida could go back and out of Hisui was by Volo taking them with him by going through portals with Giratina, of course the two of them got frightened at the sight of Giratina showing up right in front of their eyes for the first time but they got used to it later on.

As a gift of gratitude from Volo for still being accepted by Adaman and Irida even after everything he's done in the past, he made and gave a clone of Origin Dialga and Origin Palkia to them so that they could also travel through the portals or around the world without his help (he's getting tired from babysitting them pls let him live).

Adaman and Irida just live with Lucas, Dawn and Barry in Twinleaf Town, sometimes Volo comes by to visit them and hang out with them. Lucas and Dawn dont have memories of Rei and Akari, so they have no idea of what Volo used to be back then, if they would then oh boy they would try to kill him.

{With Dialga} Adaman possesses Steel type powers (or Metal Bending as they say), he uses it a lot for combat but also for reaching high places if he cant go up there or reach it by climbing, he bends the metal into a form of a long rope in order to get up there.

{With Palkia} Irida has Water type powers (or Water Bending), she is not really the type of a person to fight but she rather heals others, it also works on pokemon too, though sometimes she can kick ass once in a while if anyone drives her mad.

{With Giratina and Arceus} Volo has all the elements, including Dark type powers but he never uses those as he only sees the bad in them and never wishes to use them, reminding him a lot of Cyrus {bro hates him more than anything}, with Volo being an Archon, he can summon pretty much every pokemon, including the legendaries and mythical ones, and the ultra beasts, even though the legendaries are gods too and are feared by many, Volo however just sees them as misunderstood creatures/beings, as he has a better bond with them than with his own people.

Volo despises humans, he only sees the bad in them as he has only seen the bad things that humans did, and with Volo being isolated in Arceus's realm and being there for about 280 years (met Arceus at 20), he cant really change his opinion about it, even if he has friends that are different than the rest of the humans, Volo still has doubts that humans are good, unless proven to him. Sure, Volo is the archon and savior of this world and he is trying his best to make the world a better with no wars or catastrophies, he hates humans, but he just wants peace, but he is aware that even if this happens one day then the peace wont last forever, the world cant remain peaceful for eternity, theres always going to be something happening all the time and he will have to deal with it on his own.

This would be Volo and his Dragapult (canon)

Imagine praying to god, and this is who you're praying to

[soupmanspeaks]

Silly salvaged au and it's Greg exploiting on CC's ever-present tears by having him guilt trip staff members to get him stuff like

"No, what--I'm not doing that trick again"

"Cmon Ev please, I need a snack and you know I can't get one in opening hours"

"....FIIINE-"

Cc, walking to a staff member:"E-excuse me, I think i'm lost...could you..help me find my family?"

Staff: "oH-yeah--Yes, of course."

Cc: "Thank you...i-its just so scary..being here alone" -starts tearing up-

Staff: "Hey, Hey, don't cry...uh--oh--here! Take this, having a snack while I cry always helps!"

Cc: "...Thanks."

Staff, on walkie: "yeah, so we've got a little boy and he's wearing a striped sh-....where'd he go."

G: "WOOOO, thanks man :3"

Cc: "next time you ask, I'm not doing it again >:("

And then the next time he asked, he did it again

[buubonita]

Fresh! Wallpaper

I made this edit almost a year ago of Fresh using @/rainbowboom cool's art to use as a wallpaper. I still love the result! I wanna do more of these later.

[nb-hedgewolf]

What would happen if once all strong forms of magic returned to equestria... something went... wrong. What if... it brought with itself evils even beyond the threat Opaline could've ever imposed. A disease that hundreds of years ago was already mysterious and forgotten. Reawakened by all forms of magic bursting with power at the same time.

My Little Pony: Cutiemark Chaos

[traggalicious]

WIP!!!! Thumbnails r fr from September of 2023 💀

Progress, plus a lil school doodle of the loser as emperor! Speaking of, what name should i give him? Should he simply take the name Emperor Belos? Should he be something else? Bc Emperor Hunter sounds juvenile lmao

[kingollyorigami]

hi i havent art posted in forever have these phighting x sonic au doodles LOL

[cain-speaks]

🍑 𝘼 𝙎𝙄𝙈𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝙁𝙊𝙐𝙍-𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙔 🍑|| Wukong's Mom AU

» russian girl (jenia lubich) « 0:53 ──〇──── 2:36

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝❀╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗❀╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is a oneshot involving @journey-to-the-au's Clover + Marshal Liu! ➤ This is hurt/comfort. ➤ death to SEM bro. ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include angst, hurt/comfort, self-deprication, minor injury, referenced identity theft, referenced framing, and referenced manipulation. ➤ Word count: 1,372

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

❝ I am just a simple russian girl, I've got vodka in my blood .❞

The guards are none too gentle as they throw the boy into the holding cell, making him cry out as his skin splits on rough stone. The pain is immediate, proving to him that what's happening is real—that the mighty troop of Huāguǒshān truly believes Clover poisoned their beloved King.

"W-Wait!" Clover cries, righting himself as quickly as he can. "Wait, please—!"

He reaches out to the guards, faces that had once looked on him with kindness and friendliness, only to recoil when one snaps at him, long fangs bared threatening. The boy, unfamiliar with such displays, especially from anyone on the mountain, tucks his arms close to his chest and scrambles backwards until he's pressed firmly against the wall. But even as he's out of reach of fang or claw, he can't escape their eyes.

Wrath, regret, disappoinment. Did he prove them wrong? Or prove some of them right?

"You're lucky it's us that were ordered to escort you and not Xīnshù," a mousey brown-grey male—Cypress—spits out. "If she had, I doubt you'd have made it here."

The male beside him, Pecan, scoffs. "You've an atrocious amount of gall, poisoning our King. And during a festival, no less—"

"I didn't!" Clover cries, surprising even himself at the sheer desperation that pours out of him. "I didn't do it, I'd never do it! The mountain..."

Is all I have, he wants to say. But his throat closes and he can't get the words out, try as he might. Cypress and Pecan shake their heads, closing the door and locking him into the cell.

As they turn to leave, Cypress pauses. Then, over his shoulder:

"We should have chased you out the moment you arrived, Sì'ěr."

And then Clover is alone.

Again.

The holding room is dark, barely lit by a single torch Pecan left behind. It's cold and wet and it smells like dust, like it hasn't been used in... forever. If he focuses hard enough, the four-eared macaque can get whiffs of a copper tang, making his stomach turn. So instead he buries his face into his knees and wraps his arms and tail around his legs, trying to calm himself.

You can explain. They'll understand. It wasn't me, it was—

...his own grandfather.

What had Clover done wrong? What had influenced his grandfather to... to trick him, to trick the entire troop (the one he was sworn to protect)? And why did he let Clover take the fall? Surely he didn't do it on purpose? They were family, after all; as far as blood went, they were all they had left of each other. That had to mean something.

But that smile before unconsciousness had claimed him... Clover has never seen his grandfather so happy before.

A storm of emotion lights him up inside. Rage at having been framed and tricked, grief for what he could lose, fear of what will happen if he can't convince the troop it wasn't him.

What are they thinking right now? He wonders, hot tears building in his eyes. Does Miss Xīnshù feel validated? Does she think I'm a monster? What about the queen mothers?

And then his stomach drops.

What about Pear? Mulberry, Apple, the rest of his darling friends so lovingly dubbed the Fruit Troop? What was Rin-Rin thinking? Was she worried, and if she was, for what? For him, or for her daughter, who was so often within his grasp? What... what about—

The door opens and Clover clamps his hands over his ears, waiting for the screech of stone grinding on itself. Only it never comes, at least not at the intensity he was prepared for, as if the person opening it was taking great care to avoid any unpleasant sound. But considering it's certainly not hush-hush that Clover is down here (and the only one, too), he can't imagine who'd grant him such generosity.

As a familar figure appears, silhouetted by the corridor behind them and illuminated in the dim torch light, Clover understands.

"L-Liú," Clover gasps, scrambling to his feet. He hurries to the front of the cell, hands wrapped tightly around the bars despite how it irritates the scrapes. "I'm so glad you're here."

Marshal Liú doesn't reply. He enters the room in silence, the door closing behind him. Neither does he spare Clover so much as a glance as he pads to a few more sconces and lights them. When Liú finally approaches the cell, he presses his back to the wall beside it, arms crossed. His face is pinched, eyebrows drawn together and nose wrinkled in a thinking expression. The quietness of it all is unnerving, almost suffocating for the boy. But he keeps silent, not daring to break it.

"The troop is furious," Liú finally says. Clover feels his heart pound anxiously. "Xīnshù especially, considering little Blueberry's birth."

"...I know," Clover murmurs, ears pinned.

"And to make matters worse, Wisdom and Courage have been poisoned, too."

Clover's ears immediately perk, eyes wide as fear settles into his body.

No, no, no, he couldn't have—I couldn't have... He didn't...

"Thankfully, they seem to just be asleep. Beng reckons they'll wake in a few hours," Liú continues, and the four-eared macaque can't help but suck in a deep breath of relief.

They're alright. They're going to be fine.

But is he?

Liú steps in front of Clover, then squats, meeting his eyes.

"You understand how bad this is, Clover," Liú says. "The queen mothers and the King are unconscious, save for a single clone, and you were seen both giving Wùkōng tea and giving the mothers fruit. Somehow."

The two lapse into silence with Clover trembling, tears threatening to escape him again.

Liú slowly raises a hand to cover one of the boy's, holding it gently. "No matter how we look at the evidence, you're responsible, Clover."

A sob breaks loose; he can't help it. Clover knows how bad this looks for him, knows that the odds are not in his favor. The amount of people undoubtedly on his side are barely a fraction of Huāguǒshān and no doubt will lose their power when faced with Xīnshù and the Wùkōng clone.

"I didn't do it," Clover sobs, pressing his forehead against the bars. He bends until he's nearly kowtowing, though he refuses to move his hands from Liú's. "I didn't do it. Please believe me."

Liú make a soft noise—a gentle grunt meant to soothe infants, and Clover would perhaps be embarrassed if it didn't work so well.

"I know," Liú soothes. "I know. Rin-Rin and I know you didn't." His free hand snakes through the bars and cradles Clover's face, careful of his ears, and raises his face.

Clover sputters and uses a sleeve to messily wipe his face, shaking. "I'm so sorry," he weeps, eyes shut tight. "It's all my fault. I-I'm so stupid! I'm not even smart enough to g-get my stupid powers under control! M-Maybe if I did, I could've stopped all this!"

And I'd know if Grandpa was really lying to me the whole time, he adds within his thoughts, his teeth biting into his tongue at the wave of anger that bristles down his back.

"Stop that," Liú coos, gentle. "It's not your fault, Clover. I know it's not. You're..."

Clover barely notices the pause, too caught up in all his feelings. But when a second hand cradles his face and pulls him close, his forehead barely ghosting against Liú's, he's granted a brief moment of confused reprieve.

"Liú...?" He asks softly, noticing the wet sheen in the marshal's eyes with a prick of concern.

"You're my boy," Liú whispers, voice cracking. "And in a few days, we'll catch who really did this and you'll come home."

Clover sniffles, fighting off tears once again, and laughs a little. "And Rin-Rin won't let me leave."

"And Rin-Rin won't let you leave," Liú confirms, laughing a little too.

So the two sit there, cooing softly to each other and wiping away tears and fears alike.

And when Liú has to leave, Clover keeps his chin up.

I'm not alone, he thinks.

Blue eyes flash before his mind's eye, and a determined look settles on his face.

And I won't lose to you.

❝ So I dance with brown bears, and my soul is torn apart .❞