#anyway I’ve wanted to post this for years

[silksongeveryday]

Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 700!

Choosing not to do anything fancy for this milestone since 2 year anniversary is coming up soon anyway and would prefer the big artwork be done then. Also I’m too tired to do one lmao.

Some general updates and announcements below the cut:

Hornet’s Strange Adventures:

While initially my plan was to have the whole base game done by January, life likes to get in the way. I have made zero progress since my last major update about barely getting things into the game engine I chose. Going forward, it’s possible this project will not be done any time soon but it will happen eventually. (I almost sound as bad as team cherry lol). Progress will be a lot slower than I want unfortunately since I’m kinda burned out at this point.

Continuing Hornet Journal Series/changes:

So I’m still technically on this project currently. While at the beginning it was fun and ambitious, I can definitely feel the burnout from it too. I do want to finish this project to the end, but I refuse to make myself post it every day because that’s made me more and more upset about having to just get it done instead of enjoying it. So going forward with this project, I plan to only post Journal Entries about once or twice a week with large batches of entries in one drawing until it’s done. Even if it happens after my two year anniversary. (Though it’s likely it’ll still finish before then I believe.) This is just so I don’t get absolutely exhausted from this again.

General life stuff:

So I meant to mention this on my main but I was too emotionally exhausted to explain it and didn’t feel like to afterward. I member of my close family passed away a few days after christmas. We already knew this was coming so it’s actually why I took a break from my big project with the journal series around that time and haven’t been able to really pick it back up until now. It’s also the reason a lot of general doodles have been posted late and/or are not that high of effort. I’m just tired.

And this kinda leads into my next thing.

Taking an actual break:

1 month left. That’s how long I plan to keep doing daily doodles for. Once my 2 year anniversary hits, I’m no longer planning to post every day. As you can imagine, posting something every day for two years can take a toll and life has changed a lot since two years ago. I really want to move on to bigger things now and keeping this blog running at constant speed hasn’t allowed me to do that. So I’ve made the decision that I’ll be taking a long break from that.

Will I return to daily doodles ever? Yes, technically.

My plan is start daily doodles back up only when a Silksong release date is announced (if it ever is.) Ptherwise my art/doodles will be posted very infrequently, especially at the beginning when taking my break. For sake of mental health and creative burnout with this blog, this is the best decision I could reasonably come too

—

But thank you all for your wonderful and continued support of this blog!! I look forward to the last official month of daily doodles!

[chelseeebe]

guilty as sin

18+. mdni. smut, mentions of alcohol and drugs. harrington!reader x eddie;)

eddie shouldn’t even be entertaining his best friends sister, but when one thing leads to another.. he can’t help himself.

um hello! i hope you all had a good christmas and new year!!! i’m terribly sorry for not posting but christmas is always a crazy time and writing becomes the least of my worries.. but i’m back (hopefully)!!! got some steddie x reader brewing that i genuinely really like

𓆩⚝𓆪

eddie fucking hates these parties. 

he hates the smug girls that only look at him when they want something. he hates the boys and their fake leather jackets. 

but he doesn’t hate coming out of said parties a couple hundred dollars richer. 

he skirted around the edges, taking their cash and leaving before things ever got too much. everyone had heard what happens at a billy hargrove party and eddie wasn’t keen on sticking around long enough to witness it. 

he lurks in the hall, a line of supercilious kids await his party favours, girls that would definitely fuck him for half a gram of his finest white powder. 

eddie wasn’t like that, he preferred a flush of president jackson’s in his pocket instead. 

he glances up at the empty hall and that’s when he spots a familiar skulking face. 

steve would kill you for ever stepping foot in this hellscape, eddie’s astounded you’d even try. 

billy didn’t like steve, or eddie really, for that matter. he just tolerated his presence for his assets. there’s no telling how he’d react to steve’s younger sister floating around his party. 

“what’re you doing here?” he steps over, deciding to take over the overprotective position for steve tonight. 

your eyes look guilty, and then narrow, as if to question his audacity to even ask. 

“i’m partying, what’re you doing here?”

“selling weed to schmucks like billy hargrove,” nodding towards the testosterone filled man, hovering around like he was something special, “you should go home.”

“you should fuck off,” scoffing at his efforts, as pitiful they were. “i’m not a kid anymore eddie,” taking an elongated sip from the red cup your grasped. 

“yeah i can see that,” glancing at your rather revealing outfit, letting his gaze slip to your cleavage just once. 

he wasn’t going to pretend you weren’t attractive, he’d made enough lewd, only half-joking comments about you to steve before. 

“you should get a life eddie,” snide and weirdly endearing, slipping past him to filter into the party, and away from his prying eyes.

-

he should go home. he’s made enough money for tonight, and this is all due to start getting weird any minute now. 

and yet, he just can’t, in good conscience leave you here. especially not after watching billy sneak his arm around your shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your soft cheek. 

eddie could’ve sworn he only looked away for a minute, dealing with some bonehead looking to short him, but it had all erupted in the millisecond he wasn’t watching you. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” a piercing shriek comes from behind him, alerting the entire party to the altercation. 

it’s you, billy trailing behind not long after. he’d say he’s never seen you so furious but that would be a lie, he had, many a times seen you like this. mostly when steve ate something you’d wanted or that time he’d told your dad about you sneaking out of your window. 

“oh c’mon,” billy squawks, tommy hagan peering out of the door like the loser he was, “i wasn’t even touching you, not yet anyway,” his smug grin taking over his face. 

“and you never will!” disgust rippling through your voice, arms crossed tight over your chest. 

“don’t be so frigid,” sneering his upper lip, “from what i’ve heard, it doesn’t seem to run in the family,” a wisecrack about steve’s community dick no doubt. 

“oh yeah, i’m sure you know all about my brother, freak.”

“yeah yeah, get the fuck out of here, dumb bitch,” storming back inside the house and past eddie who had carefully positioned himself just beside the doorway. 

eddie feels he has some moral duty to fulfil, traipsing outside after billy had pushed his way back past, “what’d i tell you?”

“oh great!” you exclaim, “not you too, didn’t i tell you to fuck off?”

he takes it on the chin, your words meant very little, after all he’d become accustomed to them having been caught in the crossfire of yours and steve’s arguments plenty of times. 

“c’mon,” practically ordering you around, “i’ll take you home,” walking backwards while beckoning for you to follow him to his van. 

you stare stern faced for a second, realising that eddie was your best bet to get back across town. 

“fine,” huffing as you oblige, glaring back at the roaring party one last time before slipping inside. 

it’s no doubt that someone will feed all of tonight’s happenings back to steve, especially where billy hargrove and his little sister were involved. 

“why’d you even go?” eddie starts when you’re on the road, deciding that you can’t jump out while he’s driving.  

“because i wanted to party, is that okay with you?” scooting as far away as possible, pressed against the door. 

“right.. sure,” deciding to no longer entertain the conversation. he wasn’t steve and he had no intention of ever becoming him either. 

the rest of the drive is mostly on silence, up until he reaches the end of your street; “do you wanna come in?”

he risks a glance over, your features settled and friendly once more. 

“what?”

steve was out, presumably all night, with christina, his new plaything. eddie had helped him pick out a shirt, only for his choice to go completely ignored. 

“do you want to come inside? it’s pretty simple,” staring back expectantly, like he was the one suddenly trying to form a friendship after you’d shunned him. 

“isn’t anyone home?”

“no, no one’s home, they’re never home,” pouting slightly. eddie knew all too well how often you and steve were left to fend for yourselves, they’d taken advantage of your empty house enough as teenagers. 

he hesitates for far too long, “-or don’t, i’m just being polite eddie,” getting out of his van in a huff. you were just like steve, a real child when things didn’t go your way. the signature harrington move, and it exhausted him no end. 

“jesus fucking christ,” he exclaims to the empty van, ambling up the long drive right beside you, “you can’t tell steve about any of this,” 

your eyes roll back, glaring into the cracked window, “as if.” 

ouch. 

he exhales, cruising into the empty parking space before hopping out. he has this rumbling gut feeling that something bad is about to happen and yet, he can’t help but follow you into the house. 

flicking the light on to illuminate the sad, lonely building, heading straight for upstairs. you had invited him to just leave him here, questioning his life choices. 

“help yourself, i know you know where everything is,” striding up the stairs to your bedroom, reminding him of many nights he and steve helped themselves to your dad’s whiskey, throwing the empty bottles over the fence in a bid to hide the evidence. 

what else do you know about? you and steve were close but surely not that close. but he knows his friend and he knows how much of a gossip he is. 

you probably knew everything, how he fumbled chrissy and have been sorely single ever since, how his band are taking time apart to figure things out, steve was just the type of guy to tell you it all. 

eddie does help himself, getting two glasses from the shelf and whatever bottle he reckons your dad won’t miss too much before walking over to the gigantic, and honestly, uncomfortable couch. 

this felt wrong, like he was doing something naughty and deceitful. maybe he was, come to think of it. steve wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to walk into whatever this is, he’s sure. 

you reemerge, changing from your revealing outfit into some equally as revealing pajamas. huh. 

he can’t figure you out. maybe you were just tricking him, a stupid joke steve had put you up to. 

“how much did you make?” coming to sit on the far side of the couch, grabbing the other glass he’d carefully poured. 

eddie buffers, debating whether telling you was the right or worst thing he could do. he supposes you’ve got enough money, so you wouldn’t want that. steve too. 

“couple hundred,” shrugging nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t some of the best he’s had in months, “trick is to always undersell them,” tapping his temple, “they’re too stupid to tell the difference.” 

“so, what you’re trying to say is that you’re a scam artist?” sipping haughtily on the bitter whiskey, crossing your leg in some sort of power play. 

“no- no, i mean, it’s billy-,” stopping only when you reach over and place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m joking eddie.” 

his eyes fall to your hand, he can’t recall if you’ve ever touched him before. why does it feel like that? like he wants your hand to shift further over and grab his thigh instead. 

“yeah, i know that,” opting to clear his throat instead of letting his thoughts tumble out of his mouth. 

“good,” smiling with the corner of your mouth, giving his arm a squeeze for good measure. 

“so.. what were you doing with billy anyway?” tipping his head back to allow the rest of the liquor to slip easily down his throat, “didn’t think you were into guys like that?” 

keep it fucking cool eddie. 

jesus christ. 

he’s trying, and subsequently failing, to keep his head straight. 

you’re unrelenting, keeping your eyes trained on his and the your fingers wrapped around the glass. 

cruel. 

inexplicably cruel. 

“billy’s not really my type,” sliding your finger around the rim of your glass, “i like them to be friends with my brother at least,” shrugging, completely smug behind your glass. 

eddie’s eyebrows knit together, he thinks he’s picking up what you’re putting down but he can’t be sure. 

you look up from your half-drunk whisky, eyes low and hooded, charged with a little something that definitely shouldn’t be there right now. 

“oh,” his lips curating the perfect ‘o’. 

this was a cruel prank, a master plan you’d thought up from the minute you’d seen him earlier. 

exhaling softly when he doesn’t immediately make a move, back to the petulant child act he despised so much.

the couch dips, eddie’s eyes watch your legs march past him, displeased that he hadn’t leapt at the chance to ruin his friendship.

“are you gonna come with me or are you just gonna sit there all night?” poised on the bottom step, knowing full well that you’d already won. 

eddie looks up, hoping for some guidance from whoever it was that resided up there, only to be met with the stark white ceiling. it’s grounding almost, only almost, because he swears he can make out the faintest yes in the cascading shadows. if there were ever a sign from above, this must be it. 

ah fuck. 

his feet make the decision for him, climbing up the staircase with far too much enthusiasm. this was a bad, horrendously stupid decision. 

he knows which room is yours, the door ajar, inviting him in, tempting him to waters he definitely shouldn’t even ponder treading in. 

eddie takes a moment to really consider whether this was the right choice, whether being balls deep in steve’s younger sister was truly worth the shit that would inevitably follow. 

yes, yes it was. 

he pushes the door open, you stand on the other side, no longer fully clothed, your silhouette projected onto the wall behind. there’s an attempt to move forward but his knees fail him, turning to jelly at the sight of you. 

“jesus christ,” exhaling deep into his palm, flashing images of steve’s fist pummelling into his face flash before his eyes, only for a brief second. not long enough to have any consequence on what he’s about to do. 

“stop staring and do something.”

he takes his time, stepping closer and closer until he’s about to touch you, a force or maybe his own self-doubt stopping him in his tracks. 

“am i gonna regret this?”

“probably,” nodding innocently. 

eddie nudges his forehead against yours, letting a sigh slip past his lips. this would go one of two ways; steve would never find out and you’d all live in blissful ignorance for the rest of your lives or, steve would find out and he’d bury eddie in the woods behind your house. 

fuck it. 

eddie’s prepared to take that risk, barrelling forward to connect your lips, almost knocking you off of your feet. 

your arms interlock around his neck almost immediately, closing the distance between your bodies as you press against his torso. stumbling over one another’s feet to get to the bed, a rushed, hungry ordeal. 

because now he’s done it, now he’s done the one thing he should’ve never have done, he’s raring to go. hard as fuck with a guilty conscience which feels anything but right. 

you’re sprawled back onto the mattress, pulling him down over your body before he can even think to pull away. 

you’re intoxicating, moving carefully against him, every next move more calculated than the last. like when your lips move from his to graze against his ear, sucking and nibbling your way down the length of his neck. it’s masterful, and slightly evil. 

god fucking damn it. 

he’s not supposed to like this. he’s not supposed to think about this for the rest of his pathetic little life but he knows he will be, certain he’ll be craving this forever. 

your fingers work at the button on his jeans, grazing purposefully over his erection, drawing obscenities from his gasping lips. 

his jeans are off and onto the floor alongside your panties in a hasty rush, the feel of your pillowy thighs slide over his ribcage, allowing him in closer, much closer. 

“steve’s definitely not coming back tonight, right?” just needing to make sure one last time. even if you said yes, he’s not sure he’s be able to pull himself away at this point. 

“can you stop talking about my brother while you’re about to fuck me?” 

immediately understood. pressing another fiery kiss to your wetted lips, to both shut you and himself up. 

you sigh into his mouth, intertwining your hands at the nape of his neck, thighs hugging his waist as your head lols back against the pillow. 

eddie slides his hand from your waist to your hip, he wants to say it feels unnatural and weird but it really doesn’t. it feels as if his calloused fingers were made to hold you against the mattress, like his lips slotted perfectly against yours. 

you shudder when he places his tip at your glistening entrance, keening your hips to ensure he really couldn’t go back. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” heaving all of his words out in one as slides inside, fingernails using your skin as leverage, keeping him on this earth. 

“ohh.. wow,” you breathe, pulling on the roots of his wild hair, your thighs squeezing him in closer. 

if this was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

he’s not exactly the playboy your brother is but he’s got some idea about how otherworldly this felt. 

the gentle slap of his balls against your soaked cunt feel criminal to hear in this room, a whirlwind of gasps and mutterings of expletives fill his ears. 

your hair frames your face like some sort of halo, though you were the furthest thing from an angel. your gaze keeping him in this realm, heavy though your eyes flutter with every thrust, every nudge of his cock against your cervix. 

“fuck- sl-slower eddie,” panting softly into his ear, delicate fingers tracing his scalp. 

his strokes grow weary, slowing down as you ask, though much too close to climax to really notice. 

leaving behind fingerprint shaped bruises on your hip from his ironclad grip, cock stretching your pretty cunt. eddie can’t decide between looking at your face or the space between you, enamoured by the slight buck of your hips, the ways your lips mime unintelligible babble. 

“l-like this?” he asks, flickering back to your face. your nod of approval was all he needed to keep going, placing a hasty, messy kiss to the side of your mouth, making out with your puffy bottom lip as you whine against him. 

“feel so good.. shit- ’m gonna cum sweet girl,” stumbling through his words, a mess of bleary eyes and nonsensical thoughts. 

your mewls grow louder, echoing around the empty house, no long meeting his gaze, too overwhelmed with your own climax to care. 

“whe- where?” losing his train of thought as you come undone around him, husky growls that deaden his pathetic pleas. 

you don’t respond with words, only shaking your head to indicate anywhere but inside. having sex with you was one thing, getting you pregnant would be an entirely different feat. 

eddie pulls out, thankfully, painting your heaving stomach with his release, only to collapse in a heap beside you. the weight of what he had just done had not yet hit him but knows it’s about to. 

your breathing slows, turning your head in his direction, without a single word spoken you sit up, leaving him to recover. 

“sh-should i go?” eddie proceeds with caution, this was already too far, he didn’t want to overstep and assume you’d like to spend the night with him too. 

“no eddie, you should sleep here,” you sigh, swinging your legs from the bed, “steve won’t be back before i’m awake,” padding over to the door, flashing him a smile before disappearing. 

he lays there, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, making shapes out of the illumination of your fairy lights. he can’t get over the stark contrast between your room and steve’s, and how damn clean your bed smelt. 

you come back, smelling vaguely of mint as you slip back under the covers, twisting your body to face him. 

“i can trust you, can’t i?” lashes cascading over your cheeks with every blink. 

eddie can only nod, held captive by your glossy gaze and slight pout, a puppet really. he wouldn’t tell steve, not ever. 

he falls asleep with one hand on your hip, tracing vague patterns onto the skin, dreaming of a future where this wouldn’t ultimately get him killed, one where he could have this, have you whenever he wanted.

-

eddie wakes to an empty bed, surrounded by decorative cushions and stuffies. he’d only ever seen the inside of your room a handful of times and now he’d slept here.

he’s terrified to get up, too afraid he’ll bump into steve in the hallway and have to awkwardly explain why he’s coming out of your room. or why he’s even here at all, come to think of it. 

it’s a slow, groaning descent out of bed and down to the kitchen where he thinks he can hear you tinkering around, getting redressed in the process, petrified that it was steve or even your dad instead. 

he peaks around the corner, holding his breath just in case, only to find you at the island, coffee and toast laid out in front. 

“oh.. steve’s still not back?” proceeding with great caution. you’d cleared the glasses from the table and replaced the whiskey, making sure there were no signs of any foul play. 

“nope,” looking from your book, same glint in your eye, “you can relax.. you stayed in the guest room, you were too fucked up to drive and i said you could crash here… remember?” 

eddie nods instinctively, he’d do anything you asked, he fears. 

as if on cue, the front door swings open and you share one last glance before steve inevitably steam rolls into the kitchen and demands to know why eddie’s van is parked in his drive. 

your brother looks.. disheveled, peaking around into the kitchen with the same shirt he had worn last night and his jacket over his shoulder. 

“now what the fuck are you doing here?” immediately pointing fingers, walking into the kitchen with the air of a man who had just gotten laid. 

and well, he wasn’t the only one with a bounce in his step this morning. 

eddie seizes up, staring at steve with widened eyes. he’d fallen at the first, measly hurdle. 

“-i said he could stay,” you interject, saving the day, “he showed up thinking you’d be back, way way too fucked up to drive,” rolling your eyes, the final nail in the coffin to really sell this shit. 

a professional.

touché. 

“oh,” steve nods, still floating on his high to pay too much attention, “what’ve i told you about smoking on your own supply?” clapping his hand on eddie’s shoulder, jolting him out of his frozen state. 

eddie chuckles along, he could keep up with this lie easily, it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for him. 

“where were you last night anyway?” expertly changing the subject, using a snide sip of coffee to hide your smirk. 

“if you must know,” clicking his tongue against the backs of his teeth, “i was with christina,” a twinkle in his eye and a tone that only came after getting his dick wet. 

eddie’d sure he’d be the same if he could even muster the courage to speak, too terrified of the truth to even dare usher a word. 

“you stay in my room?” nudging eddie’s elbow, “don’t tell me i gotta change my sheets too,” much too jokey to have any inclination of the truth. 

“i set him up in the guest room, no fucking way would i step foot in your room,” snarling your upper lip, putting on a real performance. 

“wow,” steve remarks, taking the other slice of toast from your plate to immediately shove into his mouth, “you did all that for eddie?” spraying his crumbs over the counter. 

“yeah, i take care of him steve, don’t worry,” and you do, or did. because it can never happen again, there was no way he’d allow himself to commit such sins again. 

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Breaking the Silence, posted by Neil Gaiman at 10:20 AM (1/14/25)

I haven't had a chance to process this yet, but NG has posted on his website:

Text below the cut if you don't want to follow the link (And a reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways):

"Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something.

As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever. 

I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides.

And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's.

I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel. 

Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers.

At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone.

Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do."

Here's information about yesterday's article, which he's responding to:

And another reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways.

[bethanyisinjail]

in honor of the heat breaking and EVERY pipe in my rental house freezing, i really wanted to document and post my growing legend of zelda collection!!! it has some of my most valuable possessions and was literally THE only thing i was worried when i wasn’t here. because it’s all ok and NOT waterlogged or frozen, i figured i’d share it and maybe it’ll bring someone else even a fraction the joy it brings me!!

i have a wall of loz decorations at my parents’ house, but decorating this room for scratch when i moved in last year i decided why one wall when i could have the whole room????

more rambling under the cut:

here’s a closer shot of the shelf! i’ve been collecting amiibos since i was probably around 12, and the empty spaces are for when i buy myself new ones as treats for NOT dropping out and never doing anything challenging ever again. it’s tempting sometimes, and one amiibo is cheaper than three useless years in college if i drop out lmao

all the crochet pieces are made by my beautiful partner, and all of the ceramic pieces are made by me!! there’s a mug for every linked universe link + zelda and the sages from totk. the shadow crystal next to wolfie i made out of air dry clay and painted for a lu twilight halloween costume last year.

in the chest on the bottom are collectors edition guidebooks, i’ve had them for years and they have a sick gold plate with the zelda logo you can kinda see. crochet link and zelda are kind of blocking it but i have no where else to put them, which is probably the best problem i can have lmao

my partner made me this linked universe tapestry too!!! it’s probably my MOST prized possession out of all of my stuff.

peep the cards above it, they’re a majoras mask tarot card deck i have spread out around my room. hoping they don’t make me take everything down to install the new heating units…. plz don’t do that to me

this is a birthday card a friend drew for me!!!! of course, linked universe links, they’re everything to me if you can’t tell <3 also the picture below it lights up so it looks kinda like stained glass, but i lost the remote so if i want it to light up i have to put batteries in it and have it light up until they die. a lot of this stuff is old, including that, so it’s not in tip top shape… but it’s mine anyway :)

although it’s not in my room, there’s more to my collection:

another very prized possession, my lego deku tree my parents got for me!!!! i plan to rebuild the oot tree this semester as my little downtime project. i also painted that rock. i’m not kidding when i say this series is everything i think about

i had a skyward sword puzzle but… since the pipes froze the ceiling in the dining room started pouring water when the maintenance guy came over and turned on a faucet… damn our old house!!! even in puzzle form link is on the front lines 🫡

and finally, way back home at my parents’ house i also have a cat named midna. here she is before you go:

thank you sm for reading <3333 i hope you love my beautiful collection

[korgidorgi]

I LOVE YOUR WINGED READER STUFF.

At the end of your HC with Mel, you mentioned that Reader and Mel see each other after the fic with Ambessa. So, and hear me out, Singed turns Reader into a giant monster to fight in the war‼️

Mel Medarda x Winged!Reader - new plot idea (thanks anon :3)

I actually already have a plan for the next bit of the story, but I really do love that idea! So I’ve maybe kinda added an alternate timeline for you :)

This was actually super fun to write, thank you so much for the prompt! I’m so glad you like my series!!!! I didn’t really do the giant monster thing, but I did practically get rid of everything that makes King Raven King Raven >:3 (lmk if you really want the big scary monster reader and I’ll write another one this was so funnn)

Idk when I’m posting this, but I wanna post it now bc all I’ve been doing the last few days is writing writing writing for this Winged!Reader series thing. The hyper fixation is hyper fixating and I can’t stop it. Gods I need to learn patience lmaoooo (I lied I wrote for 6 hours and now I’m posting)

Lowkey, this can be a follow up next chapter to the Ambessa fucking hates you fic. Like, it actually flows and that one makes this all make sense. Nothing feels better than puzzle pieces putting themselves together for a project you never thought would be a project. Like, I’ve had this fucking character in my head since before season two came out and this just let me put it all together and develop this story for myself. (Maladaptive daydreamer much?) Anyways, I’ll stop ranting and raving, I just actually lost myself in writing this wsjjkanjsidfiwj.

Oh my gyatt this is a long one…

Warnings: Violence, cursing, mind control?, blood, injuries, angst

Summary: basically the above ask.

Ambessa still has you in her possession, hidden away from the world. Singed runs the final ‘treatment’ you’d failed to receive three years ago when he first had you in his lab, when he first made you into his creation. Under Noxian control, possession, and guard, you remain close to his needles and his concoctions. With the help of the Herald’s existence and the relationship with Singed’s work, your mind becomes entangled with thoughts that are not yours. Commands slip into your head, your body obeys. Flashes of what’s happening feel like a dream, or a bad trip. Sound is a whirr in your mind, blending together in a cacophony of noise. You’re unable to make out what is producing them, let alone be able to separate them. Your mind is barely present, pushed down by whatever concoctions Singed has pumped into you once again. Trying to fight the loss of control is painful, a way to keep you compliant, keep you beaten back and unable to defy your destiny.

Flashes of large ships stain your mind, just barely in focus. The harsh clinking of metal, chains, waves against a hull, people shouting, Ambessa barking orders. It’s a blur. The only thing crystal clear in your head is the orders you’ve been given by Singed and Ambessa. It’s hard to focus on anything but your orders, even then, you blindly follow, unable to stop your own body from moving on its own accord. Your body is wrapped in red and metal. Noxian war garments. A new, metallic mask adorns your face, a twisted version of a falcon with sharp edges and a dark aura. Your hands grip the weapons in your hands; a Noxian war spear in one, and a close combat heavy blade gauntlet in the other.

The boat lurches, and the utter of a single word sends you into action. Your wings spread, beating quick and sending you into the air. Dodging projectiles, you use your weapons expertly, fighting with horrifying swiftness and strength. Piltovian’s stand no chance against you. You’re stabbing, slashing, swinging, wrestling with anyone you come across. Each face your eyes focus on only reveal the same sinister face that put you in this position, the face that causes agony whenever you see it. Rage boils in your blood, activating the Shimmer in your body. Pain surges through your body and your mind, forcing you to continue and discouraging any urge to disobey.

You’ve flown past the enemy lines, far into their territory. Your objective to clear a path to the Hexgates at any means necessary. You slaughter your way to the building, leaving so much blood in your wake. Stepping up the staircase to the front doors of the building, you wipe the blood from your weapons, revealing the shimmering steel beneath the red liquid. The heavy doors are locked, but it’s not a problem for you. One swift, Shimmer-fueled kick to it breaks the locking mechanisms. The doors uselessly swing open slowly, groaning as the hinges protest. More enforcers are inside, opening fire the moment they see you. You move quickly, dodging most of their fire as you rush them one by one. Blood splatters across your form with each enforcer you take out, staining your red drapes, your feathers, and your armor. Only a few stray bullets hit their mark, but only to just end up grazing you. Small tears in your outfit build up, showing the others how much strength you wield against them despite each injury you sustain. None of your injuries slow you down, your body moving like a machine. Your movements are automatic, calculated, the end goal to remove everyone who stands against you. The Shimmer in your veins helps to begin closing the wounds, keeping you moving towards your objective.

His face is everywhere. No matter how many times you rid your vision of him, another version of him pops up, another sting of pain paired with it. You close in on him, quickly slashing his throat with your spear before he can fire at you. Another version of him fires at you from down the hall. Your eyes snap over to him and your body moves on instinct, quickly closing in on him. You thrust your spear into his chest, easily slicing through his blue armor and quickly staining it a dark red. He falls from the tip of your spear, only for another version to take his place further down the hall. It’s a nightmare you can’t wake from. The only way forward is to fight, to kill until you stop seeing his face. You remove the blade from another body, huffing as you do. Confusion, rage, panic, it all flows through your system, your mind. You can feel that something is wrong with you, but you’re so disorientated, stuck in this twisted nightmare that feels so real with the pain searing through your body.

You turn your attention back to the task at hand, focusing on clearing the way to the Hexgates. One more figure stands in your way. Singed stands at the end of the hall, donned in a white cloak, a hood over his head. There is no weapon in his hands, only the golden threat of pain swirling around him.

His words are muffled, making your vision blur more. You shake your head, trying to clear your vision. You can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s so similar to his voice, but there’s another element to it. Something gentle.

“Get out of my head…” You seethe at him, your grip on your weapons increasing as you begin to take strides towards him.

With a wave of his hand, a wave of golden pain rushes towards you. You swiftly dodge it, beating your wings to get an advantage above him. Before you can get too high to make your move, two golden tendrils wrap around your ankle, pulling you back down to the ground. You quickly adapt, swiftly closing in on him to land a strike against him. You miss. He’s too quick and sends another wave of gold at you, his mottled voice ringing out yet again, this time his tone is a bit more desperate. Only a few of his words stick in your mind.

“I… …not… …r— enemy—“

His voice is barely understood, fading in and out of your mind, but it doesn’t sound like him. It’s something softer. Familiar.

Despite it, you don’t stop your objective. Your body moves against your will, continuing to strike out at him. Your body and mind are still driven by fear and illusions, working like an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

With each golden wave of potential pain sent your way, you fight harder. It’s a very balanced face off. But you don’t let the golden waves touch you. Who knows how painful he’ll make you. You can’t get close enough to land a hit on him, but neither can he. It doesn’t seem like he’s fighting very hard to stop you, but hard enough to keep you at bay.

“Fucking fight me you coward!” You urge him angrily, rushing in to try to land another hit.

Before you can reach him, another golden wave comes at you from the side, sending you into the walls of the hall. You let out a grunt at the contact, your mask flying off your face and landing on the floor with a metallic clatter.

Something jostles in your mind. Now your mind can’t make up if your looking at him, or Mel. That’s impossible. Mel is still missing. She can’t be here. Not with Singed.

You shake your head, trying to clear your vision and your mind. You let out a growl, fighting against another golden wave that tries to pin you to the wall. He speaks again, the voice muffled, distorted. Like there’s two people talking at the same time. He approaches you, a hand outstretched to keep you at bay with his golden magic. The closer he gets, the more confusing everything becomes. You’re seeing two faces on the same body, sending waves of intense emotional distress, polar opposites. It’s overwhelming, causing pain to shoot through your mind. You lash out again, trying to keep him away, to end him, to stop the mental torment. Mel is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Please!” He pleads with you, sending another wave of energy to keep you against the wall. “Remember!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” You scream at him, your vision flicking between Mel’s face and Singed’s.

You fight against the golden energy, but it’s stronger than your body, keeping you in your vicinity as he approaches you. You shake your head again, trying to right your mind and your vision, to try to make sense of this nightmare. Despite how unreal everything looks and sounds, the pain and emotion surging through your body and mind screams otherwise. You can’t tell what is what anymore, if anything is even real.

You break free of the golden energy, rushing him again with unparalleled speed. You manage to push him back, pinning him against the wall on the opposite side of the hall. You hold your blade against his throat, your body freezing as you pin him to the wall. Your mind can’t make up who you’re looking at. You can’t bring yourself to hurt her.

“What did they do to you, my Dove?”

The first cohesive sentence uttered since your mind got thrown into a blender. Your chest feels like it’s being squeezed, but your body remains frozen. Singed would never know to say that. Despite your mind flicking through the two different faces, one thing that remains constant is the eyes. Full of concern and sorrow, holding a tenderness only one person has ever shown you. Your breaths come out in ragged huffs, your mind erupting in pain as you try to piece everything together.

A hand comes up to gently move a piece of hair from your face, the touch gentle, so gentle. The longer you look, the more clear her face becomes, the illusions beginning to fade from your mind and vision. A soft, warm, golden glow emanates from her hand, her face slowly coming into focus, the illusions of Singed’s wrinkled, bandaged face slowly fading. You blink, shaking your head slightly before focusing back on her.

“Mel…?” You ask so softly, your voice breaking.

Your grip loosens on her, noticing the heavy blade you have against her throat. A stab of guilt washes over you, sending a small electric shock through your chest. Slowly, you come to your senses, but the pain in your head begins to increase. Your face contorts into one of pain as you try to fight it, trying to believe that Mel is here. And you almost killed her.

You back away from her, your body trembling from the emotional and reality whiplash. Your weapon drops to the ground with a loud clatter, echoing through the hall. Your hands move to your head as the pain increases. The room begins to spin, sending you stumbling back as you try to right your bearings. Pained cries leave your lips, both from the physical pain and emotional overwhelm. Tears streak down your cheeks, both from pain and intense anguish. You can’t bring yourself to look at her again, backing away from her. You glance down at the armor you’re clad in, noticing the blood staining the metal and soaking it the cloth.

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, pulling you back to the present. You flinch from her touch, backing away from her yet again. Your eyes meet hers, wide with fear and anguish as you finally see her face. The pain in your head is intense, making it hard to focus. Mel just takes another couple steps to you, placing both of her hands on each side of your face.

“My Dove…” She murmurs softly, her eyes taking in your physical and mental torment. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She presses her forehead against yours, her eyes closing softly. You lean into her touch, your body losing the strength to continue with your orders from Ambessa. It’s like a filter has been removed from your mind, or maybe placed in to filter out the filth that’s been clouding your mind. Everything is still confusing, you’re still trying to piece together what you’ve just done, what you’ve been seeing, acting upon.

A choked sob leaves your throat, your knees becoming weak under her touch. The way she so quickly forgives you. Her arms wrap around you, pulling you against her as you cry, apologies tumbling from your mouth as you cling to her.

“Its okay, Dove.” She reassures you, her voice soft, smooth like silk. “You weren’t in control. It wasn’t you.”

You try to compose yourself, remembering the war that’s happening outside. After a few moments, you pull back, gazing at her, taking in the golden markings that adorn her skin. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, your thumb gently stroking across her skin, tracing over the gold.

“I can’t believe you’re really here…” You murmur softly, your voice threatening to break again.

“I’m here, Y/N,” she reaffirms to you, giving you a small squeeze to emphasize her statement. “I always will be.”

“We can’t stay here.” You speak again, pulling back from her, albeit reluctantly.

“I know.” She replies solemnly. “We have to stop Viktor from getting to the Hexgates.”

“Yeah,” you confirm quietly.

She takes a step towards you, not allowing you to pull away from her.

“He’s not in the sphere.” You reveal to her, trying to remember the flashes of Ambessa’s plans. “It’s a diversion.”

“Then where is he? How is he getting to the Hexgates?” She asks, concern evident in her tone.
“I don’t know, exactly.” You admit, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.”

“Don’t apologize,” she brings a hand to your cheek again, gently guiding you to look at her again. “You can only do what you can.”

••• ••• •••

The telltale sound of a rifle firing rings from the other side of the door. There’s a glow about Mel, a physical manifestation of her magic. The large doors of the building swing open as Mel approaches them, sunlight bathing the hall in its warmth. She approaches Ambessa, lowering her hood.

You look out at the terrace from behind her, seeing Caitlyn kneeling on the ground, a body collapsed right next to her. The slew of Noxian soldiers awaiting Ambessa’s orders, red flags waving in the wind.

“If you care for me at all, spare their lives.” Mel speaks as she strides out onto the terrace of the building. “There is nothing to gain from this senseless bloodshed!”

Ambessa rolls her eyes at Mel’s appearance. “Still a fox.” She scoffs before calling out to her soldiers.

Her soldiers weapons raise, broad shields protecting their bodies. Mel glances around at the army before her. A distant approaching sound of music echos through the city, an airship rounding a corner and setting off explosions as it enters the airspace. People on hoverboards launch themselves from the craft, descending on the soldiers. Everyone’s attentions are on the cacophony above.

“Fire!” Ambessa orders, taking a swing at the Firelights as they swoop in from above.

Chaos erupts as the soldiers follow her orders, attacking the firelights as they close in. Some of the soldiers engage Mel and yourself, the two of you defending yourselves against the soldiers. The scuffle ends quickly, however. The ground shakes as a large block slams into the cocoon like sphere, smashing it into pieces. You immediately rush over to Mel, using your wings to wrap around her to shield her from the blast. Mel also shields the two of you from the debris with her magic, a golden shield appearing between the two of you and the impact. Once the dust settles, you step back from her, glancing between the diversion and Ambessa.

Ambessa smirks at the two of you, glancing at Caitlyn’s fallen face. Her soldiers move to create a ring around you, a sort of battle ring.

“Mother, look at the price of your ambition.” Mel speaks again, glancing around at the chaos of the city, taking another step forward. “You’ve sacrificed everything. Rictus, Kino, the city I built for this family.”

“If it was for us, you wouldn’t have fought me.” Ambessa sneers at her.

Mel scoffs at her mother. “You are no Medarda.”

“You remember your—“

A sudden blow from Caitlyn cuts Ambessa’s response off. “Shut up and fight!”

Caitlyn grabs an unattended spear from the ground, readying herself to take on the warlord. Without words, Ambessa picks up her own spear before launching it at Caitlyn. Mel deflects the spear with her magic, the weapon ricocheting off the shield and embedding itself into one of the Noxian soldiers surrounding the terrace. Ambessa doesn’t wait before sending her foot into Caitlyn, breaking the hilt of her spear and sending her stumbling back. She puts on her own helmet, preparing for a fight against the three of you. Between Mel’s Magic and Caitlyn’s desperation, Ambessa continues to hold her own. Caitlyn and Mel trade attacks, but are unable to do much against the warlord. Mel’s magic just gets absorbed by runic stones wrapped around Ambessa’s arm. The woman fights through a slash to her leg by Caitlyn, easily taking the younger woman down. Mel moves in for a close quarters attack, still using her magic against her to almost no effect.

You stalk around the other side of Ambessa, waiting for a good moment to strike. While she’s distracted with Mel and Caitlyn, you quickly move in, raising your own weapon to take a slash at her. She senses your attack, pushing Mel back before turning her attention to you and colliding with you, flipping you over her shoulder. Her attention is divided by the three of you, but she’s good at staying on top of your movements. You scramble to your feet again, ignoring the searing pain in your abdomen, beating your wings and going in for another attack, this time from above.
Ambessa flips Caitlyn onto the ground again, using her stones to simultaneously block another magical attack from Mel. Before you can land a hit on the warlord, she dodges, grabbing one of your wings, and throws you to the ground once more. She doesn’t let go, bringing her foot down on it with a snap. She lets out a smug scoff at your cries of pain, enjoying the way you remain somewhat under her control, even if you’ve broken through the mental force of it. She sends her boot into the side of your head, finally dropping your wing at the dazed expression on your face. She stalks towards Caitlyn, who grabs a broken spear. She moves in for her own attack, but Ambessa quickly reverses the roles, holding the blade dangerously close to Caitlyn’s face. A golden shield tries to prevent the the blade from touching Caitlyn, but in the end, Ambessa’s blade hits his mark, slicing through Caitlyn’s face.

Ambessa stands, triumphant over Caitlyn as she watches the blood gush from her face and onto the ground. She pulls her mask off.

“You fought well, child.” She speaks down to her, watching the blood drip from Caitlyn’s eye.

Her eyes finally catch the small blade in Caitlyn’s hand, the stones on the ground, and it dawns on her.

“Now!” Caitlyn shouts back to Mel.

You glance from your dazed position, over to see Mel rise from the ground, her eyes boring into her mother’s.

“A wolf has no mercy.” She speaks, her hand landing on a thick necklace.

Your vision begins to fade in and out, the combination of the pain and injuries you’ve sustained beginning to take a toll on you. You try to rise, your strength sapped from you from the fight. Pain shoots through your wing. It’s bent at an angle it shouldn’t bend in, in an area that doesn’t bend. Your chest heaves at the pain and exhaustion, but your grit through it, focusing on folding your wings and sealing them back in the ink of your back tattoo. It’s an agonizing process with the damage done to your wing. You no longer feel the pain in your wing, but in the ink embedded in your skin where they’re stored.

When you finally gain the strength to sit up a bit, you look over to see Mel approach her mother. She catches the taller woman, gently bringing her down to the ground and cradling her in her lap. It’s hard to watch. Despite the life the woman had led, she was still Mel’s mother.

You force yourself to your feet, pushing past the pain of a multitude of injuries. As the adrenaline wears off, the pain becomes more pronounced, even revealing injuries you hadn’t realized you’d sustained. You limp over to Mel, lowering yourself to your knees at her side. Your hand rests softly on her shoulder, a small gesture of comfort if she’ll accept it.

That’s when the strings from above latch themselves to every single person, Noxian, Piltovian, Zaunite. Linking them— you— to the Arcane, to Viktor. It feels almost identical to what Singed had done to you, the magic of the arcane flowing almost the same as the Shimmer in your veins.

It doesn’t last long, an explosion from the top of the Hexgates sounds off. The strings are destroyed, dropping everyone back to the ground.

It aggravates your wounds again, your blood pooling on the ground more than before. The feeling of soft hands on your face and shoulder encourage you to open your eyes. You meet Mel’s eyes, concern etched into her features. She looks over your injuries, wincing at the sight of you all beaten up, your blood pooling on the ground beneath you.

You raise a shaky hand to rest on one of her wrists, your fingers gently wrapping around her. She can see the pain in your eyes, and you hers.

“I’m okay…” You try to reassure her, forcing a small smile. “Are you… are you okay?”

You look over her for any injuries of her own before she guides your face back to look at her.
“I’m unharmed.” She replies softly.

“Mel… I…” You try to speak, but you’re almost at a loss for words.

Her thumb brushes across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry about your mother…” You finally speak, leaning into her touch, your eyes closing again.

“Don’t be.” She responds, her voice soft but firm.

She doesn’t say anything more. She just pulls you closer to her, embracing you gently.

[stilljuststardust]

Hi! I’ve been working with the loa for just a few days now, I’m very new to it. But ur blog has helped me a lot to figure stuff out!!! Thank you for making ur posts so accessible and easy to follow!!!

I’ve been trying to shift for a few years now, went through all the shifttok nonsense. It’s. Been a frustrating journey. But I feel like I’m on the right track with loa. I was wondering, with using the loa, saying affirmations before bed, telling myself I am in my dr, what do I say if I wake up here? Currently I’ve just been telling myself “it’s fine I did shift because I exist in my dr always” but, idk, I’m not sure how to not feel like I failed while still affirming that I haven’t.

Another thing I feel a bit stuck on, is focusing entirely on the 4d while shifting. I’m plenty good at imagining vivid scenarios. Other senses I’m okay at for the most part. But how do I bridge the gap of “I’m imagining this happening right now” and “this is really happening in my reality” I feel like it’s a mix of still feeling the 3d which I’m trying to acknowledge will be the last thing to change. While also it being the fact that I’ve been imagining scenarios in my head for years. I’m finding it difficult to tell myself “this is real become aware of it” when I’m used to just daydreaming. If that makes sense?

Anyways, thank you for all u do on ur blog, you’re really helpful!!!

✧Hello love!

You don't need to acknowledge the 3D. You don't need to do anything with it. It is dependent on you to stay the way that it is. I can't stress this enough it just isn't a factor. It's not that you have to find a way to remove it you just have to know it's not part of the equation at all.

The way to close the gap is to realize that there is no gap. It'll be enough when you let it be enough. I know that's the hard part. It's hard to just let it be because part of you is worried that it's not enough and is in search of something "better".

Visualize from the perspective of your DRself. Not just in the literal sense of the visual POV but as in you interact with the visualization as if you are your DRself. This is where I am, this is what I think about where I am, etc. You're trying to put yourself there mentally by thinking as if you are already there.

For me the difference between a daydream and a visualization is a day dream is detached in a way, like a scene I'm replaying, a visualization is putting myself there. Like one of those moments where the world is still and you just look at it. Then again I'm more of a robotic affirmation person myself so take what resonates with you.

If that is hard then affirm over and over "this is real, I'm in my DR" or something else like that. Repetition is a powerful tool for changing how you think.

Don't twist yourself into knots over belief. It may feel weird at first but that doesn't matter what matters is that you stick with the weird instead of entering your old mental state.

It's ok if you had an emotional reaction, it's ok if your heart dropped a little, just stick with the new story mentally. Your emotions won't stop you. It's ok to feel them. Your subconscious will take you at your word so only tell it what you want.

All that being said I think I know the perfect method for you if you're good at day dreams! The distraction method is a method where you get yourself into the alpha state, and the daydream. That's all. Click the link if you want to know more.

✧More links

My post on "ignoring" the 3D

You only have one limiting belief.

Senses shift last. I've said this in like 3 different posts so I don't know if this is the one you're coming from, so I thought I'd link it anyway.

[missw0rld]

Marilyn Monroe (1952)

Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not (2006)

[doccywhomst]

[fantasykiri5]

Ticklish

[mi-spark]

what’s up, party girl!!! 🪩🌈✨

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

A story told in pictures:

✨ I love this cast so much 🐉

and @toodrunktofindaurl (thank you to the person who reminded me of her URL! I had her insta tagged here before bc I couldn’t for the life of me remember her url.)

(also honourable mention to Yellowjackets’ Jane Widdop)

[kamabokobun]

Old rough gijinka raidon designs

[myokk]

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

Oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

from my oneshot💘

[banditblvd]

GHHHHHRR….GHGHHHOSTNKNIFIRE……..GHHHRGHOOOSTNKMIFE…

[samglyph]

I might delete this, but shout out feeling real grief about inanimate objects.

[waddles-ex-machina]

soooo I’m very very bad at being photogenic and I’m never gonna get around to making a proper post, so in honour of it being halloween here’s some miscellaneous pics of the Kaisa cosplay I made (aka me goofing around at cons). I still love this cosplay very much and take it to cons whenever I can. I’m proud of it :) also ft. my own familiar inspecting the wand for me :))

(also if you look at the 2nd one you can see my friend standing behind me to hold the wand in my hair while we tried to recreate that one shot from the show JBKSHJSH)