#anya askew (sixtended)

[altairtalisman]

List Of Info About Anne "Anya" Askew

Anya’s Updated Reference

Anya’s Backstory

Headcanons For Anya

Five Things About Anya

Five More Things About Anya

[lexartsstuff]

Southern Icebender

This one is special as it's an art trade with @thenicestnonbinary. They asked for Anya in my avatar AU and since I was planning on making her soon I was happy to do so!

She's a waterbender in the southern water tribe and a close friend with the Parr sisters. She specializes in the ice aspects of waterbending and she's one of the front line defenders of the south, having frozen fire navy ships in deep oceans

Hope you like it, Ave!

[inquisitive-mess]

Sixtended OC's Height Chart

I think this was long overdue. This is a height chart to all of the current Sixtended Verse OCs on Tumblr. I will update once new ones are made. I did both types just in case. Updated (October 10, 2024)

I like to thank @altairtalisman for the chart I used as a reference and both them and Finch for the help

Amalia “Mali” by @pandora-dusk - 5'3ft or 160.02cm (160)

Anne “Anya” by @toasty-owl-arts - 5'2ft or 157.48cm (157.5)

Anne “Ann” by yours truly - 5'8ft or 172.72cm (172.7)

Arthur Tudor by @djts-arts - 6′2ft or 187.96cm (188)

Cathryn Carey by @weirdbutdecentart - 5'1 or 154.94cm (154.9)

Christina of Denmark by @the-fox-arts - 5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Dorothy"Roth" by @altairtalisman - 5'4ft or 162.56cm(162.6)

Edward VI by @ratscraftz -5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Elisabeth "Sisi" by @ratscraftz - 5'6ft or 167.64cm(167.6)

Elizabeth "EB" by @spooner7308 - 5'11ft or 180.34cm (180.3)

Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Seymour by @vancsssa - 5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Elizabeth “Ellie” Tudor by @me-tizi - currently 4′3ft or 129.54cm (129.5), but will be 5′4ft or 162.56cm (162.6)

Ferdinand II by @weirdbutdecentart - 6'3ft or 190.5cm

George Boleyn by @ellielovesdrawing - 6'4ft or 193.04cm (193)

Guilford Dudley by @ratscraftz 5'8ft or 172.72cm (172.7)

Hans Holbein the Younger by @podsn - 6′0ft or 182.88cm (182.9)

Hans Holbein the Younger by @redlover411 - 5’9ft or 175.26cm (175.3)

Henry Carey by @weirdbutdecentart - 5'0ft or 152.4cm

Henry “Hal” by @blackdiamondwrites127 - currently growing, but will be 6'2ft or 187.96cm (188)

Henry "Fitz" FitzRoy by @sixaustralia - 5'11ft or 180.34cm (180.3)

Henry Percy by @cheemken - 6'3ft or 190.5cm

Isabella of Castille by @weirdbutdecentart - 6'2ft or 187.96cm (188)

Isabella Trastamara by @lexartsstuff - 5'5ft or 165.1cm

Isabella “Izzi” Trastàmara by @weirdbutdecentart - 3'7ft or 109.22cm (109.2)

Jane "Janey" Grey by @ratscraftz - 5'1ft or 154.94cm (154.9)

Jane “JP” by @altairtalisman - 5'8ft or 172.72cm (172.7)

John Astley by @yourdeepestfathoms - 6′0ft or 182.88cm (182.9)

Juan Trastàmara by @weirdbutdecentart - 6'1ft or 185.42cm (185.4)

Juana “Ju-Ju” by @ellielovesdrawing - 5'11ft or 180.34cm (180.3)

Katherine “Kat” Ashley by @yourdeepestfathoms - 5'11ft or 180.34cm (180.3)

Katherine “Kath” Tudor by @ellielovesdrawing - 5'0ft or 152.4cm

Lillia "Lily" Trastamara by @ellielovesdrawing - currently 4'11ft or 149.86cm (149.9), but will be 5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Margaret “Maggie” of Austria by @weirdbutdecentart - 6'0ft or 182.88cm (182.9)

Margaret Beaufort  by @redladydeath - 5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Margaret “Meg” by   @me-tizi - 5′8ft or 172.72cm (172.7)

Maria of Jülich-Berg by @blackdiamondwrites127 - 5'1ft or 154.94cm (154.9)

Maria Trastámara by @blackdiamondwrites127 - 5′7ft or 170.18cm (170.2)

Marion Trastámara by @vancsssa - 5'2ft or 157.48cm (157.5)

Mark Smeaton by @ellielovesdrawing - 6'1ft or 185.42cm (185.4)

Mary “Mara” Boleyn by @mariegreythepoet - 5′6ft or 167.64cm (167.6)

Mary Fitzroy-Howard by @sixaustralia - 5′3ft or 160.02cm (160)

Mary Stuart by @to-the-world-we-dream-about - 6′0ft or 182.88cm (182.9)

Mary “Marie” by @me-tizi - 5′5ft or 165.1cm

Mary I "Mari" by @crimsonnight186 - 5'9ft or 175.26cm (175.3)

Robert Dudley by @ratscraftz 5'9ft or 175.26cm (175.3)

Sibylle of Cleves by @blackdiamondwrites127 - 6′4ft or 193.04cm (193)

Thomas More by @spooner7308  - 5′6ft or 167.64cm (167.6)

William of Jürich-Cleves-Berg by @lexartsstuff - 6′0ft or 182.88cm (182.9)

Will Parr by @weirdbutdecentart - 6'1ft or 185.42cm (185.4)

Willie Strafford by @weirdbutdecentart - 5'9ft or 175.26cm (175.3)

[spooner7308]

My half of the Art trade with @thenicestnonbinary

It’s Thomas and Anya hanging out!

Anya’s talking about theology or something, but Thomas is just happy that someone’s spending time with him

[djts-arts]

If you're still doing art prompts, can you do Monster AU Ann, Cathy, and Anya spending time with each other, please?

Very intelligent creatures

But cat brain go brrrr brrr

Monster AU by @spooner7308

Anya by @thenicestnonbinary

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Suicide Queen (part two)

[Ice Skater AU]

Part 1

The Sixtended characters that cameo in this chapter belong to: Mary Boleyn- @marygrey, Meg Tudor- @me-tizi, Jane Parker- @altairtalisman, Christina of Denmark- @the-queen-of-the-castle, Anya Askew- @thenicestnonbinary, Anne Parr- @inquisitive-mess

TW: Referenced self harm

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

Bessie’s eyes were stinging when she woke up that morning. She groaned, draping an arm over her face, and knew it was going to be one of those days.

She hauled herself out of bed and gazed around her small dorm room. She always thought it was rather dull compared to some of the others she had seen, simply having a bunk bed with a black couch underneath it, a desk, a single shelf for her belongings, and a venus fly trap that she took care of better than she took care of herself. Thick grey blackout curtains were drawn tightly over the single window; she preferred to use light from the lamp sitting nearby or the fairy lights strung across her ceiling. She never turned on the overhead fluorescents if she didn’t have to.

On her way down from her bunk bed, Bessie stumbled on the last rung of the ladder and nearly hit her head against the wall directly behind her. She wished she had. She longed for her skull to shatter and for her brains to ooze out, signaling that she was no more in this horrible world.

Her bare feet sunk into the fluffy white carpet in front of her couch. The softness brought on an odd sense of comfort and she sighed softly.

  “Another day,” She said to the taxidermy crow sitting on her desk.

She wondered if the reason why nobody liked coming into her room was because of all the vulture culture stuff she had. Her shelf was full of various animal skulls and bones, she had a bottle full of fangs, a jar with peacock feathers sticking out of it, and even a real kangaroo fur she bought from an antique store hanging up on the wall. A lot of people found it creepy and ‘cruel’, but she found it all fascinating.

After watering her venus fly trap, which she had named Jackie, she grabbed some fresh clothes and her shower supplies and stepped out into the hallway.

Her dorm building was notorious for its decorations during the holidays. It was always set up, regardless of what season it was. Right now, black and orange fairy lights were suspended across the ceiling, with little rubber bats and spiders hanging freely, signaling Halloween. There were even a few skeletons and zombies standing around in the corners, which never failed to scare the absolute shit out of Bessie when she got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Several girls were already awake and mulling around, getting ready for the day. Mary Boleyn and Meg Tudor were chatting loudly outside Mary’s dorm room, talking about something some idiot said in their political science class. Margaret Dymoke was waiting impatiently outside of Christina of Denmark’s room, yelling at her to ‘hurry her ass up.’ Jane Popincourt was whisking out of the bathroom, shamelessly swathed in a pure white robe. Bessie shuffled past her with her head down and entered the bathroom.

Along with Jane Parker and Anne Parr, The Beast was there to greet her inside.

  “Good morning, darling,” It said from the reflection of the mirror.

Bessie used to have a mirror in her room. She had to get rid of it after she punched it while having a mental breakdown and shattered the entire thing. She remembered all the heads peeking out of the other rooms as she walked the broken thing to the dumpster outside.

Bessie felt Jane and Anne’s eyes on her as she trudged into one of the open showers. Their conversation resumed after she turned on the faucet, thinking the sputtering of the showerhead would drown out their words, but Bessie could still faintly hear them.

  “…She’s so weird.”

  “…Yeah. I’m surprised the counselor hasn’t called her in yet.” 

  “…They haven’t already? Damn. I thought literally everyone telling them about how she cries herself to sleep at night would be enough.”

  “…Clearly it’s not. I kinda feel bad for her.”  

  “…Yeah, me too.” 

Their gossiping whispers disappeared as they seemed to exit the bathroom, and Bessie was left in silence once again.

But only for a moment.

  “You wanted attention, didn’t you?” Said The Beast. Even with the spraying water, Bessie could still hear it so clearly. Probably because its voice came from inside her head, and it wouldn’t quiet down no matter how hard she covered her ears.

  “Not like this,” Bessie muttered. She stared down at her naked body, at the slimness of her sides, at the sunkenness of her stomach, at the cuts marring her stomach and thighs. She splayed her hands open in front of her and looked at the scoring on her wrists, the point system of her constant losing battles. She clenched her fists.

  “Be grateful,” Said The Beast. “They could ignore you. And don’t say you would want that because I know how you react to being shunned.” Even though she couldn’t see it behind the curtain, Bessie knew it was smirking. “You would be alone with me.”

Bessie grit her teeth. “Shut up.”

She roughly grabbed a bottle of vanilla milk and papaya shampoo and squirted way too much into her hand. She began scrubbing it violently into her hair, making sure to rake her nails down her scalp so she could feel the pain. 

Hey, at least she was bathing. Her hair had been a greasy mess for about two weeks now.

  “They can ignore you, but you can’t ignore me,” The Beast said. “I’ll always be here, darling. I’m your best friend. I’m your only friend.”

  “Shut up!” Bessie yelled, yanking back the shower curtain and flinging the shampoo bottle at the mirror The Beast was reflected in. At the same time, Anya Askew entered the bathroom with her showering supplies and gave Bessie an extremely confused and concerned look. 

Bessie jerked the curtain back so only her head and shoulders could be seen. “Umm-- S-sorry, I was--” She glanced at the mirror, and Anya’s eyes followed, but she knew she couldn’t see The Beast smirking in the glass. “Thought I saw a spider! G-guess I was wrong! S-sorry!” She wrenched the curtain shut completely and backed up against the wall, covering her face with her hands.

  “I don’t even need to ruin your life,” The Beast said, sounding like it was right behind her. “You do it for me. You make my job so easy.”

Bessie squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a few tears stream free. She sniffled and swiped them away quickly. She couldn’t cry this early in the day. She needed to retain some shred of dignity.

Turning her attention back to the shower, Bessie began scrubbing her body with apple-scented soap, wincing when any open cuts on her skin stung in reaction to the chemicals. The scars, those that hadn’t scabbed over yet, were still gooey and red, the flesh around their edges white and puckered from the water. The faint paint they caused brought a dull sense of clarity within Bessie.

God. How much more of a freak could she be? Was she some kind of masochist or something?

No… No, she only liked pain when it was self-inflicted. She didn’t like when it was put upon her by someone else. He proved that.

She shook her head, sending a scatter of water droplets flying throughout the small space. She twisted underneath the hot water, washing off all the soaps and suds still clinging to her frame. 

She was clean once again.

  “Or as clean as a teenage whore could be…”

Bessie just barely managed to bite back a yell, remembering that Anya was still in there with her. So, instead, she just closed her eyes and breathed out heavily.

After drying herself off and wriggling into her clothes for the day- grey sweatpants and a plain black sweater- Bessie stepped out into the rest of the bathroom. Even with the mirror completely fogged up, she could still see The Beast’s red eyes glinting at her hungrily as she walked to one of the sinks.

  “You’re beautiful,” The Beast cooed, materializing in the mirror over the sink she was using.

  “Shut up.” Bessie growled, thinking that Anya couldn’t hear her because of the running water.

  “I’m just complimenting you,” The Beast said innocently. “You should thank me.”

Bessie glared down at the sink as she began brushing her teeth with so much force her gums began to bleed. She spit bloody toothpaste foam into the drain before washing it out, gathering her things, and storming out of the bathroom. She faintly heard The Beast chuckling deeply before the door shut.

Once back in her door room, Bessie put her showering supplies back in their place and set her pajamas on the couch for later. She brushed out her long black hair, not caring if it was dripping wet, and then gathered her school supplies, put on her glasses, and left the dorm building.

Upon stepping outside, Bessie’s glasses instantly fogged up. She took them off while walking forward, wiping away the cloudiness until they were clear again. She put them back on and saw a black truck sitting by the curb.

Bessie froze.

All the dorm buildings on Princeton University were further away from the main campus, fenced in by brick walls and a gothic-looking gate. That meant that, unless Bessie wanted to try and scale the walls, she only had one way out. And she would have to pass the truck to do that.

Gathering up all her courage, Bessie began striding towards the gate. There were kids already outside in the courtyard, surely He wouldn’t try anything… 

Her confidence disappeared completely when she crossed the threshold, and Bessie fought the urge to turn and run back to the safety of her dorm. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry as she walked by the truck. The windows were so tinted that she couldn’t see inside, but she knew He was looking back at her.

The truck rumbled to life upon her crossing the street. Bessie didn’t run, knowing that running would only make Him chase her. Maybe He would just go away if she moved slowly and acted like she didn’t care…

A tear ran down her cheek as the truck began rolling along behind her. She turned sharply and walked up a short flight of stairs that led up the curve of a small hill. Princeton University’s sprawling, plant-filled campus was then stretched out to her, but not even its thriving beauty could calm her nerves.

Bessie walked faster, keeping her head down. She knew she should be monitoring the truck, but she didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want to risk seeing Him.

She tried to distract herself by looking around. The lush, healthy emerald green grass was sprinkled with early morning snow, glinting softly in the pale light slipping down from the blanket of grey clouds in the sky. It was too dull for shadows to be cast, and yet a dark shade grew from her feet and smiled at her wickedly.

  “Come to me, darling,” The Beast said.

Bessie jerked sideways and ran right into someone without even realizing it. She heard a grunt and instantly tottered backwards, apologies spilling from her lips.

  “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I-I wasn’t watching where I was going!” Please don’t hurt me…

The person she had rudely bummed into stepped back, blinking brown eyes that were so dark they looked like pieces of ebony infused in their skull. Bessie realized it was a woman a year or two older than her, and she was the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes on.

Internalized homophobia had always been one of the many problems Bessie had, but not even THAT could disagree that this was the most gorgeous human being to ever grace the earth.

She was a dark-skinned woman, tall and muscular, looking like she was capable of crushing Bessie’s skull between her thighs like it was a watermelon, and Bessie found herself longing for that to happen, and not just because she was suicidal. Her short dark brown hair was cut into a style that screamed ‘I AM NOT STRAIGHT!!’, tucked gently into a vermillion beanie, which only fueled Bessie’s hope that her gaydar wasn’t messing up. She was dressed in black jeans and a red-and-black flannel, which had its ends tied together over her stomach. When she spoke up, her voice was husky and warm, tinged with a German accent.

  “You’re good,” The woman said. “No worries!” She smiled down at Bessie, but it disappeared in almost an instant. “Hey, are you alright?”

Bessie sniffled, and she realized there were a lot more tears than she had thought. She opened her mouth, lips quivering, and pointed to the truck nearby without even thinking her decision through.

  “Th-that truck,” She whimpered out. “I-it’s following me.”

Bessie expected the woman to dismiss her panic, saying something like, ‘there’s trucks everywhere!’ or ‘how do you know for sure that it’s following you?’, but instead she glared at the truck and flipped the driver off as it sped away.

  “Fucking creep,” The woman muttered. She turned back to Bessie, looking concerned, and set a hand on her shoulder. When Bessie flinched at the contact, she respectfully pulled her arm away, and Bessie cursed her instinct to recoil at any touch because she really wanted this woman to touch her (just not like that, not like that--). “Are you okay?”

  “Y-yeah,” Bessie said, quickly wiping away the tears that were still on her cheeks. “Th-thank you.”

The woman smiled that beautiful smile again. “No problem!” She seemed to sense that Bessie was still on edge because she then said, “Would you like me to walk you to class?”

Bessie looked surprised, but nodded fervently. “Y-yes. Please.”

The woman nodded and began walking with Bessie, scanning around the area as if she were a guard dog. “I’m Anna, by the way.”

  “Bessie,” Bessie said.

  “Bessie?” Anna echoed.

Bessie blushed faintly. “It’s silly, isn’t it? It’s the 21st-century, who names a kid ‘Bessie’ if they aren’t a cow?” She gave a small laugh, shifting her belongings in her arms. “Umm-- My real name is Elizabeth.”

  “I think Bessie is cute.” Anna commented.

The blush turned from a light pink to a deep, dark red in an instant. Bessie’s pale skin definitely didn’t help make it any less noticeable. 

  “R-really?” Bessie stammered, wide-eyed.

  “Yeah!” Anna nodded, grinning. “It’s impossible to create a nickname for my name unless it’s the dumb ‘Anna Banana’ one.”

Bessie giggled. “What about ‘Annie’?”

Anna thought it over, then tipped her head at Bessie with a smile. “I like Annie, actually. Good thinking, Bessie.”

Bessie’s ears felt like they were on fire, but, for once, it was in a good way. She couldn’t help but smile back shyly.

  “Okay, so I actually have no idea where we’re going,” Anna admitted. “I’ve just been following you. I’m new here.”

  “Oh,” Bessie said, nodding. “That explains why I’ve never seen you before. Where’d you come from?”

  “Düsseldorf, Germany,” Anna said, which explained the really attractive accent. Bessie’s face burned even hotter. “I’m living in an apartment down the road. I prefer to have my own personal bathroom.”

Bessie giggled. “I get that. Living in a dorm has its perks, though.”

  “Really? Like what?”

Bessie was silent. “Hang on, I’ll think of something…”

Anna laughed loudly, and Bessie couldn’t help but join in.

  “You’re funny, Bessie,” Anna said as they got near the math building. “I like you.”

Bessie faltered. “R-really?”

  “Really!” Anna said, then tilted her head. “You seem surprised.”

  “Oh, no, I-I just--” Bessie trailed off awkwardly, not wanting to spill stupid stuff and ruin her friendship with this woman. She shook her head. “Nothing. Nevermind.” She looked at the large building looming over her. “Well. This is my stop. Thank you again for helping me. I had a really good time talking to you.”

  “I did too,” Anna smiled. “See you around, Bessie.” She gave a saluting goodbye before turning and walking down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets.

Bessie watched her go, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Not even the frigid wind could cool down the heat on her face.

  “Bye,” She whispered long after Anna had walked away.

[thequartz0ne-archived]

A gift for @thenicestnonbinary

Anya askew

[altairtalisman]

Dorothy Seymour's Bio

Did I just create a second Sixtended Verse OC that I will barely create any content for? Absolutely yes, but I really had to get this damn idea out of my head. It's been living in my head for months now...

Name: Dorothy Seymour, prefers to go by Roth. She was previously known as Dorothea Sailsmoore, but legally got her name changed to her current name.

Personality: Impatient and short-tempered, it's a miracle that she hasn't gotten herself fired from the theatre just yet. Constantly yells at the queens for not staying still enough when doing their makeup and hair.

When it comes to conflicts, she will stand up for her opinions though she is willing to consider others. Expect her to give a passionate defence in response though, because she won't go down easily.

She's willing to commit most crimes, with anything fatal (for all parties involved) being out of the question. She does have a set of personal ethics, and won't harm people in need or children (unless said children are just pure assholes).

Dorothy's cynical when it comes to love, and doesn't believe in the concept of soulmates. Her recent breakup with her ex-girlfriend was pretty bad too, with her ex cheating on her as well as attempting to manipulate her into thinking that Dorothy was actually abusive. While she doesn't show it, she is left insecure that she's not really enough for others to stay.

Despite her general personality, she can be considerate of others and tries not to bother those in her social circle with serious matters. One example is her previously crushing on @inquisitive-mess's Ann Parr, Dorothy would never let her know that she once crushed on Ann in university, partially because she knows that Ann's straight and that knowledge would just burden her.

Likes/Dislikes on food: She really hates vegetables, but tolerates spinach after her doctor told her to eat some as she had symptoms of hypothyroidism. Dorothy loves seafood, and is trying to cut down on unhealthy cooking methods due to the Sailsmoore family's history of heart problems. She always gets an espresso when ordering coffee, and she prefers Pepsi over Coca-Cola. Don't tell her that Pepsi is inferior, she will physically fight anyone who tells her that.

Type of drunk: She's more honest and sentimental when drunk, but she can hold her liquor well plus she doesn't drink in public often...

Hobbies: Stargazing (she's well-versed in constellations), camping, taking long rides on her motorcycle, and boxing.

Clothes: Dorothy prefers clothes that she can easily breathe and move in, as being a makeup artist requires concentration. She prefers plain clothes that is black, grey, or have a cold colour scheme. She owns a few mandarin-collared shirts for smart casual events, and evening gowns for parties the Sailsmoores host or go to.

How she died: Not stated online, but based on Dorothy's last memory of her previous life, it was a natural death.

People she get along with: She gets along with Ann, mainly because the latter was on emergency call back when they were in university. Ann's introverted personality as well as her not asking why Dorothy's laptop is always broken helped to foster a genuine friendship between them. She also likes @redlover411's Hans Holbein as he doesn't say much and doesn't give her problems in general.

Dorothy tolerates Jane Parker, @djts-arts's Arthur Tudor and @pandora-dusk's Amalia of Cleves, with Parker because she doesn't try to purposely push her buttons and they have a common hobby, Arthur because he serves her coffee at the theatre cafe and hates Henry VIII, and Amalia because she's really likeable.

She does interact with @spooner7308's Elizabeth Barton and @ellielovesdrawing's George Boleyn, though it's more out of necessity as she needs to know how much light is shining on the queens so that she can adjust the amount of makeup appropriately.

She has seen @weirdbutdecentart's William Parr twice, once at Ann's graduation, and once at the hotel he worked at. She hasn't spoken to him at all, and given that he mirrored her usual expression, Dorothy assumes that he's not interested in interacting.

Dorothy knows that @vanessaseymour's Elizabeth Seymour exists, but hasn't really interacted with her sister. She does know that her sister is awkward at flirting, and really loves @lexartsstuff's Isabella Trastámara.

People she dislikes: Definitely Henry VIII, for everything he had done in his lifetime. She also dislikes @blackdiamondwrites127's Siblylle of Cleves, @thenicestnonbinary's Anya Askew and @the-fox-arts's Christina of Denmark not because of their personalities, but simply because as managers, they tend to throw her own schedule out of the window at the last minute. She does try to understand that they're dealing with whatever crisis is popping up without warning, nonetheless she still doesn't like them.

People she's afraid of: She dreads the idea of both her previous husbands reincarnating, not because she hated them in her past life, but because she doesn't want to deal with the fact that she would have to explain that she doesn't love either of them anymore and she currently views them as strangers.

Ship: She's currently not dating anyone, and is still hurt that she was cheated on. She doesn't have a label on her orientation, and when asked, she will always reply "I've dated guys, girls, and people who aren't either, and so far, I like girls the best. What does that make me, you ask? I don't know and I don't want to think so hard about that."

Reincarnated life: Dorothy was actually born as Dorothea Sailsmoore, but on 4 January, 10 year old Dorothea was involved in what was supposed to be fatal accident. As a result of this accident, she gained Dorothy's memories of her past life. Upon waking up in the hospital she was sent to, she learnt that the wounds she suffered were supposed to be fatal and as such, it was a miracle that she survived.

Dorothy was actually confused towards everything at first, for she didn't grasp any modern concepts and initially told the doctor as well as the Sailsmoores that she wasn't Dorothea. The doctor then hypothesised that she had amnesia as she didn't remember the identity of Dorothea, with her formally getting diagnosed with it after it was discovered that she doesn't remember anything about Dorothea's life.

This made Dorothy realise that instead of Dorothea surviving the accident, it was more likely that Dorothy and Dorothea swapped bodies despite the time gap. While she didn't place much belief in the supernatural even in her previous life, it was the likeliest explanation given that Dorothy Seymour's last memory was on 4 January, the same day the accident occurred.

Dorothy felt bad that she didn't remember anything about Dorothea and instead, had the memories of who she soon found out to be some barely known sister of the famous Jane Seymour. She did her best to play the role of a daughter to the Sailsmoores, who was rich and nearly spoilt her rotten. Dorothy was actually uncomfortable assuming the identity of Dorothea, but she wanted to be loved by a stable family, thus she put up with it.

Six years later, as a result of the Sailsmoores expanding their business, Dorothy's parents and her brother, Johnathan, were absent in her life. As she was afraid she would be forgotten like how she was in her previous life, she started skipping school and eventually turned to fighting street gangs at night. Dorothy realised that she actually liked fighting and continued to start fights with street gangs simply because she didn't like the way they looked or because they accidentally bumped into her when crossing paths.

She was soon addicted to fighting, and eventually landed herself in trouble when a few street gangs banded together and launched an ambush the moment she arrived at one of her usual haunts. Initially, Dorothy didn't view the ambush as a problem as she was confident in her street fighting skills, until she discovered that everyone brought weapons.

While Dorothy was about to escape from the gang members with wounds that weren't life-threatening, one of them had managed to stab her abdomen which left her bleeding in an alley. Assuming that she was dying, the gang members decided to leave out of fear of being caught. Johnathan, who had just left a party hosted by one of the companies the Sailsmoores were working with, noticed a figure bleeding out in the alley and approached her. When he realised that it was Dorothy who was dying, he immediately called for an ambulance which saved her life.

Warded at the hospital, the Sailsmoores came down to visit Dorothy as well as to give her a dressing down after finding out from the school that she hadn't been attending her lessons for a while. She decided to admit that she wanted the Sailsmoores to pay attention to her, and acted out in hopes of getting them to do so. Dorothy also admitted that fighting was much more addictive than she expected, which made her unable to stop.

Her family informed her that while her actions were wrong, they understood that their lack of presence resulted in her taking the wrong path. They then vowed to spend more time with her, with the latter confessing that they vowed to spend more time with Dorothea, not Dorothy.

"All of you have been nothing but good to me... which is why I'm sorry, but I'm not Dorothea Sailsmoore. I haven't been for six years now, and I know that I sound crazy, but your family member died in that accident. This is Dorothea Sailsmoore's body, but the one inhabiting it goes by Dorothy Seymour, Queen Jane Seymour's youngest sister. I'm sorry for pretending, and I understand if you wish to turn off my... whatever that machine is."

With these words, Dorothy expected the Sailsmoores to react badly, but instead, they told her that they needed time to process the information Dorothy had tried telling them after the accident. She nodded, resolving to stop participating in street fights as even though she was doing so as Dorothy, her body was still Dorothea's after all.

After getting discharged from the hospital, the Sailsmoores informed Dorothy that they still view her as part of the family. Her father added that she was free to change her name given that she was already of age, and that they won't love her any less. This touched Dorothy, and she immediately went to change her name.

A few months after changing her name, she decided to experiment with makeup to cover up her scars. While searching up how to do so, she realised that makeup was much deeper than it seemed and wanted to pursue a higher education in cosmetology. Her mother noticed her attempting to cover her scars with makeup, and commented that Dorothea wanted to be a makeup artist herself when she was nine.

"Is that so? Well then, all the more reason to study cosmetology. For her interests, as well as mine."

Dorothy's comment became her goal, and after graduating from university, she applied for a job at the theatre. She was accepted without an interview as Anya was desperate for a makeup artist back when the queens first went on stage. Dorothy was shocked to meet Jane Seymour, and was even more shocked to find out that there were many more figures from her era that were reincarnated.

Dorothy can be easily found at the theatre cafe, and on the theatre's rooftop at night.

[altairtalisman]

Quick sketch of Roth interacting with @spooner7308’s Barton as well as @djts-arts’s Arthur and @thenicestnonbinary’s Anya watching said interaction.

It… probably won’t end well.

[altairtalisman]

Anya Askew by @thenicestnonbinary, AKA the shortest member of the theatre crew and Jane Grey by @its-too-fracking-early-for-this, AKA the shortest adult hanging around the theatre.

Neither of them are flattered by their titles.

[altairtalisman]

Here’s my half of the art trade with @inquisitive-mess, she asked for Ann, @blackdiamondwrites127’s Sibylle, @ellielovesdrawing’s Katherine, @thenicestnonbinary’s Anya, @pandora-dusk’s Amalia, as well as Parker bowling so I did a short comic on how it turned out!

@djts-arts’s Arthur appears at the end!

[inquisitive-mess]

I decide to do some doodles on some people she know would react seeing Ann in her current state and how each one treats it

When Jane (@altairtalisman) found out what happen, she was shocked and wondered how this happened. Ann explained the situation to her, told her it was an accident, and it only looked bad. She's fine, but may take time her arm to heal. Jane was a little better learning this, but still worry for Ann, like any friend would. She told Ann that she has no problem helping her out when she needs it and Ann answered that she already knows.

When Ann was on her way to go to her music lesson with Bella (@lexartsstuff), Sibylle (@blackdiamondwrites127) notice Ann was struggling carrying the pack of Monster with one hand. Siby went to Ann and ask her if she needs help. Ann politely refused and told her she got it. After Siby persisting and Ann keep telling her she was good, Ann eventually folded and let Siby carry it until Ann got to her lesson. Siby was glad that she actually started to repay Ann back for what happen and the laptop.

Finally, Ann was changing the bandage and gauze for her eye, which she had a hard time doing with one hand and was getting upset. While Ann was getting annoyed, Anya (@thenicestnonbinary) came to her shop during her frustration and scare her a little as she arguing with herself. Ann soon notice Anya was there, felt bad for raising her voice, and told her she was sorry. Anya notice Ann injuries and ask her if she need help nervously. Ann nodded and hand her the items. As Anya was putting the gauze and bandage on Ann, she saw she was still down about what happen and told her she know it wasn't aim at her. Anya then try to lighten the room by telling Ann jokes and Ann told her that she learning to play an instrument, so they can play together, once she heals. Anya smile a bit and told her that she like that idea.

[lexartsstuff]

A4 Anya for the prompt thing?

She's happy to see a certain queen :3

Anya belongs to @thenicestnonbinary

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Most Important Part of Your Body

[Wing AU; UK Tour]

My part of the art/writing trade I did with @thenicestnonbinary!! They asked for a continuation of my last fic for them and an explanation to Joan’s prophecy, so here you go! Enjoy!

Word count: 3486

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

  “Lighting a candle just to breathe the smoke is a bad, bad thing… Tread carefully, for we walk on hot coals… When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned… Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you’re going to burn with the rest of us.”

Those words kept replaying in Anya’s head no matter how hard she tried to think of something else. They kept shoving their way to the surface of her mind, ripping apart every other thought until it played on loop, taunting her, torturing her.

What did it mean?

She didn’t sleep at all the night it was said. The image of roaring flames flickered behind her eyelids whenever she closed her eyes, so she just stayed up, thinking.

That was a prophecy. She knew it was.

So what did it mean?

Would there be a fire? Was she going to light it? She couldn’t possibly see herself doing such a thing, but after the dark futures Joan told her about… 

She had looked down at her claws and saw that they were shaking.

It had been six days since then, and Anya was on high alert. She was always looking for something that may start a fire- a frayed wire, a fallen light, just someone who looked more pyromaniacal than usual. But, so far, there was nothing.

Morbid curiosity soon grew to be too much- she approached Joan.

  “Joan?”

She found the little hybrid in the rehearsal room, surprisingly. It was almost strange to see her out of her dressing room when a performance wasn’t going on. 

Joan was tinkering with the piano, practicing with notes and a few chords. When Anya walked in, her ears swiveled around to her, then her head. Her wings perked up slightly, tail raising.

  “Anya, hello,” Joan greeted, cracking a small smile.

  “Hello, Joan,” Anya greeted back. She cleared her throat. “Joan, I need to ask you something.”

Joan tilted her head. “What?”

  “Do you remember when you stayed over at my house?” Anya asked, and Joan nodded. “I wanted to know what that thing you said in your sleep meant. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Joan blinked. “What thing?”

  “The prophecy.”

Joan’s eyes widened. “I gave you a prophecy?”

Anya was confused. “Yeah, you did. Did you not know?”

  “I don’t know anything about a recent prophecy,” Joan said, sounding anxious. She wrung her claws in her shirt. “What did I say?”

  “Something about fire,” Anya told her, trying to swallow her own fear. “It was--”

Joan suddenly whimpered. 

  “Joan?”

The little hybrid was now curled on the piano stool, wings drawn in tightly around her, hands clutching at her head. She began to shiver, whimpering in distress, eyes squeezed shut.

  “Joan? Joan.” Anya gently touched her shoulders, and they quaked beneath her hands. “What’s wrong? What do you see?”

  “Fire,” Joan gasped raggedly. “Oh god, oh god, oh god--”

  “Joan? Joan, breathe.” Anya told her, hoping to get through to her. “Come on, honey. You can do it. Breathe. Come back to me.”

Joan suddenly flinched backwards, eyes popped open, breathing heavily. Sweat beaded on her brow and ran down her pale face. She scrambled to her feet, nearly collapsing.

  “W-we have to stop them!” Joan floundered, rushing for the door.

  “Joan! Joan, hey!” Anya grabbed the panicked girl by the shoulders, squeezing her to try and ground her. “Hang on a moment.”

  “No!” Joan yanked away from her and ran out into the hallway. Anya followed after her, watching the way she looked around wildly.

  “Wh-where are they? Where is everyone?!” Joan cried. “W-we have to find them, Anya! We-- Agh!!”

She suddenly crumpled again, clutching at her head. Anya lunged down to her side and propped her up against her, stroking her with one wing.

  “No! No!” Joan squirmed like she was being electrocuted. “Oh god, no! No!!” Tears were now streaming down her cheeks as she spiraled into full blown hysterics.

  “Joan, what’s going on? What do you see?”

Joan screamed and shoved away from her, hightailing it down the hallway.

  “Joan!!”

Anya chased after the girl, surprised by how fast she was despite her condition. She rounded the corner and found her collapsed on her knees in front of Cathy, Cleves, and Jane. They all looked simultaneously confused and concerned. 

  “Joan!” Anya went back down to her side and wrapped a wing around her. “Joan, honey, you need to breathe. You’re having a panic attack.”

  “That’s what this is?” Cleves asked.

  “Is she okay?” Cathy added. 

  “I--” Anya faltered, frowning down at Joan’s shuddering form. “I don’t know.”

Joan’s body spasmed. She looked up and her eyes were blank and glazed. When she began to speak, her voice wasn’t scared or panicked or anxious or pained. It was calm. Hollow.

  “You feel it all over, and you can see it. And it deals with you. It really works on you. And you don't like it. You don't like it, I don't deserve that, y'know. And nobody else can really understand. You feel it all over. You feel it all over. And you just get the shakes. And it just, it comes up on you. Feel it all over. You feel it all over. Feel it all over…”

Anya swallowed thickly and looked up to gauge the reactions of the three queens: Cathy looked frightened, Cleves looked curious, and Jane looked concerned, but they all seemed to be a little unnerved.

  “Was that a prophecy?” Cathy whispered.

  “Was it?” Cleves asked, shifting. She shook out her wings as if they were crawling with spiders. “Brr. I’ve got goosebumps. That was freaky.”

  “It’s coming,” Joan muttered, hanging her head limply. “It’s coming.” Her breathing rattled, body twitching. “We’re animated meat accepting complete infidelity of the body.”

Then, she shook her head and her eyes popped open again, grey and normal-looking. 

  “Joan, what is going on?” Jane asked. 

  “Where is everyone else?” Joan croaked. Her elbows trembled like they were about to buckle beneath the weight of her trembling body. “We have to save them!”

  “Save them from what?” Cleves furrowed her eyebrows.

  “The fire!” Joan cried. She leapt to her feet and scrambled down the hallway, using the wall for support. She began crying out the names of the other queens and ladies in waiting. 

  “Joan, wait!” Anya went after her. 

She chased the hybrid to the wings of the stage, where Kat was talking with Bessie. When Joan saw the fifth queen, she let out a cry of relief and collapsed against her.

  “Kat! Kat!” Joan wept.

Kat’s eyes widened and she lowered the girl to the ground. “Joan? Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

  “I think it’s her visions,” Anya said. She watched as Kat swept her wings around Joan and held her close to her chest. “She’s really freaking out.”

  “Oh, honey,” Kat murmured, stroking Joan’s head. “You poor little thing… Your head must be hurting so bad, huh?”

  “K-Kat-- Kat--”

  “Shh, shh,” Kat rocked her gently. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  “N-no-- No!” Joan tried to push away, breathing heavily. 

Maggie came down from the nearby staircase, glanced at the scene, wrinkled her nose, then began walking onto the stage. Joan screamed.

  “No!!” Joan shrieked, thrashing wildly in Kat’s arms and wings in an attempt to get free. “No! Don’t go in there! No!”

Maggie looked back at her. “Why?” She ruffled her wings and sniffed, clearly miffed. “I do what I want.

  “No! No, Maggie, there’s a BOMB!”

And then, with a whoosh and a crash and a burst of light, the stage exploded into flames.

------

  “Anne Askew was burned at the stake at Smithfield, London, aged 24, on 16 July 1546, with John Lascelles, Nicholas Belenian and John Adams. She was carried to execution in a chair wearing just her shift, as she could not walk and every movement caused her severe pain. She was dragged from the chair to the stake which had a small seat attached to it, on which she sat astride. Chains were used to bind her body firmly to the stake at the ankles, knees, waist, chest and neck.

Those who saw her execution were impressed by her bravery, and reported that she did not scream until the flames reached her chest.”

------

After an interminable time floating in a semi-conscious haze, the piercing smell of some burning annoyed her into a state of full wakefulness. 

The smell of smoke and burning feathers choked her as she shuddered on the floor, slumber against a wall, nose pressed against the gritty floor. Her wings felt heavy, like they were being weighed down by dozens of logs, and an uncomfortable heat pressed down on her. Pushing herself up on weak arms, she raised her head to face the destruction in front of her. 

Smoldering tendrils of curtains dot the floor from after they fell from the overhead poles, leaking toxic wisps of white smoke. Without them hanging up, she could see that half the stage had been turned into kindling, surrounding a yawning crater where the risers for the band once stood. The speakers and instruments and tech pieces were now blackened twists of scrap metal, and a hole’s been punched through the back wall, echoing into another room that was slowly being flooded with smoke and ash. Half the sprinklers above were raining water, the other half just dangled from busted pipes. She couldn’t see any bodies; the fire was too big. A few wounded in the wings with her were just now recovering from the shock of the blast; first someone groaned, then she heard someone calling for help.

Anya blinked and realized that her head must be rattled more than she had realized, because she was slumped against the wall without a memory of collapsing. She spent a few moments trying to make sense of what just happened.

As her head cleared a bit, she saw Kat pushing herself up from the ground, covered in a caking of soot. She saw Bessie on her knees, wide-eyeing the fire. She saw Cathy and Anne and Cleves and Jane and dozens of others running towards the wreckage, while others ran in the other direction.

She saw Joan standing in front of the flames, her quaking body outlined by the golden light.

  “Oh my god!” Jane cried, clapping her hands over her mouth in shock.

  “Wh-what happened?!” Cathy stammered in fear.

  “What did this?!” Cleves shouted at the same time. 

  “Where is Maggie?!” Anne yelled, her eyes wide with fear.

  “I tried to warn her,” Anya just barely heard Joan mutter. “I told her. I told her what would happen.”

Anne rounded on Joan, tears trembling on her lower eyelids. “What did you do?!”

  “What did I do?!” Joan’s voice raised into a fever pitch. “I did nothing but try to prevent this happening! I tried to save everyone, and she did not listen to me! She went in like the ignorant fool she is!”

She turned to the fire, spreading her wings to the heat. “I saw it! I saw these flames and I tried to save everyone! I tried! I tried!”

Anne took a shaky step back. “Is Maggie dead?”

Joan did not answer, and Anne sobbed.

  “Maybe I can--” Bessie stepped up and breathed in deeply, releasing a blast of frost on the fire trying to crawl into the wings. The flames were smothered, but the hell storm on the stage continued to rage wildly. She breathed out another jet of frost, fighting back the fire as more and more people began to flee the building.

  “Watch out!” 

There was a blur of gold as someone ran into the fire with their wings shielding their flammable clothing and hair. A moment later, they appeared again, dragging someone else by the arms.

  “Maggie!!” Anne shrieked, lunging down to the body. Her friend was covered in burns and ash, and one of her wings looked badly charred, but she was breathing. “Maggie, oh Maggie! I’m so sorry! Maggie, I’m so sorry!”

Aragon frowned, then ran back into the fire. She was not immune to the bite of the flames, but her scaly wings were not flammable, and she was able to pull out two more bodies without only minimal burns.

Anya couldn’t recognize the two other corpses. All she knew was that they were very, very dead, charred beyond belief, wings turned to black skeletons upon their backs.

Anya attempted to get up, to maybe help, but a comforting hand pressed on her shoulder and a warm voice spoke to her, “Don’t move, you’re hurt.”

Looking up, she saw Cathy kneeling beside her. Her face was twisted with worry and fear. Anya’s vision began to blur as she was gazing at her. 

  “I’m perfectly able to--” As she talked, she made the mistake of trying to push herself to her feet. Something shifted in her right shoulder, sending a flare of pain throughout her body, making her gasp as her right arm collapsed under her weight.

Instead of saying, “told you so,” Cathy yelled for help. Medics had apparently arrived.

  “Please," Cathy said, “don’t move. You have a large chunk of metal sticking out of your shoulder.”

Anya looked down and saw it gouged there. A twisted hunk of black iron embedded in her flesh, spilling out fountains of hot blood. Her vision began to blur even more. How did she not notice it before?

A painted lady Cimex and a blue Hydra in EMT jumpsuits finally made it through the crowd of people clogging the entrance and came over to where Anya was kneeling. They pushed Cathy aside with their wings, much to Anya’s dismay. She tried to reach for her friend, but the medics coaxed her into saying still while they began speaking. Something about a female black kite Avem showing signs of significant trauma and blood loss. She lost the thread of what they’re saying, because the Hydra medic started to cut the clothes off of her.

  “What?” Anya croaked, and she didn’t realize how rough her voice was. The word echoed in her mind like she was in a cave. How much blood was she losing?”

  “Shh,” The Hydra told her. “You need to stay still for me, hun.”

When she tossed aside a bundle of unidentifiable shreds of fabric that used to be a stage manager joke t-shirt, stained with equal parts blood and soot, Anya had to agree.

Anya felt very light-headed and dizzy, so she decided to close her eyes.

Funny. This felt a lot more peaceful than how she actually died. 

  “You’re right, Cathy. I’m really injured.” Her voice was a half-whisper and half-groan, and she had no idea if her friend heard her. She barely cared.

She felt the cold sting of something in her uninjured arm, and the drugs pushed her the rest of the way into unconsciousness.

------

Anya eventually woke up to bright white and the sharp smell of antibiotics. The slight dizziness she felt, and the absence of pain from her wounded shoulder told her that she’s probably still drugged-up on painkillers, if nothing else. 

She was laying in a bed in a blindingly white hospital room, staring at the blank wall. She could smell blood somewhere.

She wondered how long she had been drugged insensible. She had no real memory after the Hydra medic stripped her and shot her with something. But, however badly she’d been hurt, they seem to have patched her up. She recovered to the point everyone felt safe ignoring her.

Anya groaned as she got to a seated position. She ached all over. The place where the intrusive chunk of metal once laid was now gone from her shoulder, and she realized that there was an IV tube injected into a vein in her left arm.

  “Hey, don’t move around too much.”

Anya whipped her head around and saw Cathy. Relief instantly bloomed through her when she saw the blue jay unharmed and okay.

  “Cathy,” She breathed out.

Cathy smiled softly and took her hand, twining their fingers together. “Hey, you.” She said. “It’s good to see you awake.”

  “How long have I been out?” Anya asked, and her voice came out croaking and rough. She coughed and Cathy frowned, brushing some white hair from her face.

  “A day.”

Anya’s eyes widened. “A day?”

Cathy nodded. “They sewed up the wound in your shoulder, but wanted to keep you under for a while longer. It’s nine, now.”

  “Damn,” Anya muttered. “What happened? How is everyone?”

Cathy’s expression went grim. “Jackie and Sean are dead.” She said, referring to a robin Avem and cricket Cimex, both of which had been on the tech crew. “Maggie’s pretty beat up, but the doctors said she’ll make a full recovery soon. A few others are just burned.”

  “God,” Anya said softly. “I can’t believe that really happened…”

  “Me too,” Cathy said. “I’m just so happy you’re alive. When I heard the explosion go off I was so worried about you. I thought you had—”

  “Hey.” Anya brushed her wing against Cathy. “None of that. Happy thoughts. Look, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Cathy smiled. “You are.” She squeezed Anya’s hand again, then cleared her throat. “The show is being shut down for awhile. Obviously.”

  “Thank the goddesses,” Anya said. “I don’t know how anyone would be able to work after what happened.”

Cathy nodded. “Yeah. On the bright side, we get a vacation!”

They both shared a laugh.

  “Where’s Joan?”

Cathy made a disgruntled expression that Anya didn’t understand. “I don’t know. I don’t really care, either.” Her voice was so hostile; Anya wasn’t used to her sounding so angry.

  “Why not?” Anya furrowed her eyebrows.

  “She could have stopped it!” Cathy suddenly exploded, causing Anya to flinch in surprise. “She has precognition! And she was having visions! Why couldn’t she have told us what she had seen sooner instead of crying on the floor?”

Anya frowned. “Cathy, I don’t think she could.” She said. “You saw her. She was in a lot of pain. She was scared, too. I think she was too overwhelmed to be able to speak.”

Cathy scoffed. “Yeah right. I wouldn’t just flail around on the floor with the knowledge of a bomb about to go off. She could have told us before the day even happened! She can see the furtive! Why didn’t she see this sooner?”

  “There’s a lot of different futures to see,” Anya tried to convince her. “This may not have been one she saw.”

  “What, is a fucking bombing not big enough for her mind?” Cathy said cruelly, her voice loaded with venom. 

  “It’s not her fault, Cathy.”

  “It is!” Cathy yelled. “If she had just said something, then Jackie and Sean wouldn’t be dead, the theater wouldn’t be destroyed, Maggie wouldn’t be in urgent care, and you wouldn’t be hurt right now!”

  “Don’t blame her!” Anya yelled back. “She tried, okay? She tried. We have to give her that. A lot more people could have died without her.”

Cathy huffed and crossed her arms. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, alright.”

Anya clenched her jaw, but didn’t argue. She was just tired and confused and so, so worried.

She stayed in the hospital for another hour until she was deemed well enough to leave. The first thing she did was fly to the wreckage sight, even though the doctors advised she didn’t fly for a day or so. 

Police cars swarmed the building below Anya. Yellow tape was rolled out, restricting civilians from going in. The theater had turned into a full on crime scene. 

Anya flew to the park field next, and that’s where she found her. In the same place where she took her hunting.

Anya landed beside Joan.

  “I tried.”

Anya could tell from her voice that Joan had been crying. 

  “I did. I really tried. I wanted to save everyone.”

  “You did your best.”

  “My best wasn’t enough. Now two people are dead.”

Joan looked at Anya, and her grey eyes were puffy and red. Tear tracks were stained on her pale cheeks.

  “Are you--are you--?”

  “I’m okay, sweetie,” Anya said. She tugged down her sleeve to show Joan the bandages around her stitched shoulder. “See? I’m okay.”

Joan sniffled and tears spilled over. “O-oh god. Thank goodness.” 

Anya wrapped her wings around the young hybrid and pulled her in close. Joan clung to her like a baby bat would to its mother, latched on with her little dewclaws. She sobbed into her chest, and Anya stroked her hair comfortingly, occasionally scratching behind her ears, hoping it would help.

  “I wanted to save everyone,” Joan whispered shakily. “I did. I tried.” She sniffled. “Maybe I should just do what Henry did to me when I kept giving him bad prophecies…”

  “What did he do?”

  “He cut my tongue out.” 

[djts-arts]

Anya N3? :3?

She finally got some sleep

[altairtalisman]

The good thing about drawing monsters is that you can be shit at drawing them and people will think that you’re just making them look even more monstrous than they already are.

Anyways, decided to be even more ambitious this evening and drew @thenicestnonbinary’s The Watcher!Anya, @pandora-dusk’s Phoenix!Amalia and @ilenalovesdrawing’s Lamia!George, all of which are from @spooner7308’s Monster AU.