#anyway i need to draw the rest of the cast and find a name for the onnagata

[elliottjpg]

Woe! Transgender samurai be upon ye!

-pulling my old OC out of the filing cabinet and giving him a shampoo- LOOK I HAVE A NEW CHILD!! :D

I've decided to rework an old story/universe from several years ago, so here we go again, from the top:

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暁の物語 Akatsuki no Monogatari

光 Hikari

Hikari, aka Shitaikou, is a young ronin, a master-less samurai, wandering around Edo-era Japan on a soul-searching journey.

He was raised as a girl named Sayoko (小夜子) by a samurai family, and taught swordsmanship and the arts like his brothers, although he was never destined to become a warrior. When the time came to find him a husband, he stole two swords, ran away and changed his name.

He now walks the roads of Japan on a quest to find [insert as-of-yet undefined quest here], and offers his assistance to villagers on the way. In doing so, he often runs into yokais and other paranormal occurences, to the point where in time he becomes an expert on the occult underworld of Japan and is often nicknamed the Demon Samurai.

Hikari is accompanied in his travels by Chihiro (千尋), a kitsune, and by Mochi (餅), a totally normal cat with the usual amount of tails and absolutely no supernatural powers, no siree. He is also regularly involved with an onnagata (a cross-dressing kabuki actor) and a yokai-hunting Buddhist monk, both of which I have yet to name (Mochi's name is also susceptible of being changed soon), and meets all kinds of strange people on his travels.

Hikari has a kind heart and a strong sense of honour. His driving force is his desire to help others; although he is very naive at first, and misguided altruism often gets him in trouble. As the story progresses, he will grow more mature and cynical, often preferring the company of yokais to that of humans, but trying to retain hope and faith in his fellow men.

(You can see older drawings of Hikari, including different outfits, here)

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Akatsuki no Monogatari (the Tale of Dawn) takes place in the very beginning of the Edo era, in the transition years between the warring period of the Sengoku-Jidai and the two hundred years of peace under the Tokugawa shogunate. It is a story about change and beginnings, both of a person and of a country.

Some name lore under the cut!

The kanji Hikari 光 means "light". Hikari is a "public first name", sort of an official nickname. It was common practice in feudal Japan (at least among the samurai class) to go by a public name and keep your real name private. In Hikari's case, that is also because he often frequents yokais and magicians, who could use his true name against him.

His real name is Shitaikou 志泰光 . The kanjis composing it mean "aspire", "gentle" and "light". He chose it as a reminder to himself to strive for kindness and to make the world a better place.

("Hikari" is the last kanji composing this name. When used with other kanjis, it is pronouced "kou". Such is the messed-up way kanjis work. -frustrated weeb noises-)

Hikari doesn't have a last name; he gave up his family's name when he ran away and saw no use in taking a new one: as a ronin he is not tied to any family.

His birth name, Sayoko 小夜子 , is composed of the kanjis "small", "night" and "daughter". Hence the title, Akatsuki no Monogatari, the tale of dawn, or how the night turns into the light.

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy on Tumblr, part 4

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

You were going to have to be strategic about this. You didn't want to step on Chilchucks toes after all, and you didn't know if there would realistically be work for more than one halffoot. It sounded like Chilchuck was strictly no combat, so maybe you could pick that side of it up? But even if you could convince them of your usefulness, would they be willing to sign a contract to take on a new party member? You frowned, considering.

You heard your name and glanced up. "yes, sorry, what?" 

"What do you think you want to do?" Marcille asked. "I'm afraid that I can't cast the leaving spell to get you out of here, it's not my specialty, but maybe we could get you back up to a higher floor? You could find another party and work your way back up."

"....I was actually going to ask if I could travel with your group." You hesitantly explained. "You wouldn't need to pay me or anything, and I don't eat much. I am skilled in my field and I could definitely be a big help to Chilchuck in disarming traps and giving advance warning of threats." You continued on with something that was only half a lie. "I think your group really can take down the mad mage, and I'd like to be a part of that." 

You were also pretty good at drawing monsters away or distracting them, or even engaging in combat if necessary. But you figured you'd keep that little tidbit to yourself while you figured out the dynamics of the group. Chilchuck had seemed to be pretty against the idea of halffoots as bait and combat participants, if you really needed to use it as leverage you could, but otherwise it wouldn't be wise to offer services he'd shut down already. After all, alienating the other halffoot in the party could only go badly. 

Marcille looked surprised, but before she could say anything, Laois jumped in. 

"Yeah! That would be great! Chilchuck you've talked about the difficulty of disarming traps before, if you had a helper wouldn't it be a lot easier? You guys could work in a team! And she's right, halffoots don't eat much." 

Chilchuck frowned consideringly. "Hmmm, I usually don't work with others....I guess we could give it a shot but if you get in my way and aren't helpful you'll have to stand back with the rest of the party. I'm good at my job and I don't need anyone jumping in trying to help and fucking it up."

You nodded, trying to keep a look of some kind of humble gratefulness on your face, reminding yourself firmly that you needed to stay on the good grace of the guy you'd be working with. But internally you felt the full concentrated wrath of a thousand suns. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? The god king of traps? All you were suggesting was working as a team to do shit like simultaneously disarm arrow and pressure traps and shit. You'd have to be fucking stupid to not be useful to another trap disarmer. Maybe he had more experience in this dungeon than you, but you'd hit plenty of other dungeons before this one was even discovered.

Senshi piped in. "I'd want to have y/n along for a bit anyway." He turned to you. "I'll need to draw up a careful food schedule for ye. I think you'll need to be eating a small amount once every couple of hours for the next few days."

Everyone kind of nodded, and...that seemed to be that. Through the rest of the night, you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, more questions to be asked, someone to demand you demonstrate your skills, but it never happened. No one pried into your business, and it seemed to be just business as normal.

Once nighttime hit you were set up to share a bedroll with Marcille. A little awkward but Marcille was skinny and you were half her size so you actually both fit pretty nicely without having to be too tightly packed. 

Laois attempted to suggest that perhaps you and Chilchuck could share a bedroll, being the two smallest party members, but Chilchuck shut it down with a clearly practiced level of defensive aggression. 

Before bed Senshi popped up with a bowl full of delicious smelling soup. 

"Took me a bit but I've made some hearty stew with the lamb chops! I'm just giving you the broth to drink right now, but in the morning you should be able to eat it fully."  

You drank the broth slowly and carefully under the watchful eye of Senshi. You also noticed that Chilchuck casually positioned himself strategically close to you, although he was feigning an air of unconcern. 

So NOW the fucker cared what happened to you. He'd insult your ability without even knowing about you, but apparently he'd deign to babysit. 

You shot him a somewhat halfhearted glare as you pointedly sipped your soup with all the patience of a woman determined to prove she did actually have survival skills. 

By the time you were finished with your food, everyone else was already settling down. You slipped into Marcilles bedroll as quietly as possible, and almost immediately passed out cold. 

Tag list, ask to tag:

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

[lanasblood]

SKYRACER | neteyam x reader 

pairing: neteyam x f!reader

summary: you love your life, and you love your two best friends, lo’ak and kiri, missing them deeply when they leave for the tulkun season at the eastern sea once a year, leaving you all alone with the rest of the sully’s, including neteyam. as you prepare for another farewell, everything takes an unexpected turn on a fateful night, altering the course of your lives forever.

word count: 4.9k

warnings: mention of blood, (no sweat), and tears, best friend lo’ak (platonic soulmates), lovely supporting friend kiri, tension between neteyam and you, protective neteyam, caring neteyam, angry neteyam, mention of heartbreak from previous relationship, alcohol use and parties, basically the beginning of a love story through melancholy and hardships . 

note: takes place five years after the events of atwow. this is a repost. series masterlist

* gif‘s not mine.

in the depths of my mind, I kept you hidden,  a treasure too priceless to be revealed,  for your soul is pure, your beauty unbidden,  a rose in the fields, unconquered, unconcealed. 

On the night when it all began, the sky stretched above, clear and serene, while a gentle breeze rustled through the air. The moon, a slender crescent, cast its ethereal glow upon the dense forests of Pandora, drawing intricate shadows upon the tents nestled amidst the towering trees. Its radiance danced upon the still surface of the deserted lake, while the forest itself seemed adorned with a tapestry of fallen leaves and meandering vines.

Your body felt weak, your heartbeat faltered, its rhythm growing feeble, and your pulse felt strangely sluggish. With a heavy sigh escaping your lips, you sank down onto the ground, your trembling hands finding their way to the tangles of your hair. The wind, mischievous in its playful dance, toyed with the fabric of your loincloth and the flowers and feathers that adorned your form, teasing and loosening a single strand from the intricately braided locks that Kiri had graced with delicately handcrafted beads that evening.

With a desperate gesture, you pressed the balls of your hands firmly against your closed eyes, seeking respite from the world. Colors of light and dark swirled in a dizzying dance behind your lids, creating a kaleidoscope of sensations. The sharp pain that had taken residence above your temples intensified, causing another low, pained sigh to escape from your chapped lips as if carrying the weight of your weariness.

You heard your name before you felt his hand on your arm, his knee touched yours and for a brief moment, your heart almost completely stopped. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him yet; your eyes were strangely veiled as if they were watering. "What's going on?"

There was an uncomfortable metallic taste in your mouth, and you carefully put your hand to your lips, only to discover the crimson evidence of blood trickling on your lips from your nose. Images of that night were difficult to push aside anyway, but in connection with the headache, it was almost impossible to suppress the onslaught of memories. 

You cursed under your breath, your voice cracked and feeble, as you looked up at Lo'ak with an awkward expression.

"Bro—" Lo'ak's voice trailed off as his eyebrows shot up, his gaze shifting to the blood on your hand and then on your face. Swiftly, he retrieved a cloth that was secured to his side near his hunting knife. "Take this, it's clean. I only used it to polish my knife."

Gratefully, you accepted the cloth and pressed it against your nose to stem the bleeding.

"You need to see Tsahìk," he said softly, his eyes fixed on your profile.

"That's—" you began to protest, but the pain cut through your words. It hit you suddenly and with greater intensity than before, almost violently, leaving you gasping for breath. You attempted to stand, but your knees gave way, and you slumped down. Lo'ak struggled to keep you upright, his arms straining to support you.

"You have to see Tsahìk," he repeated, and you could only weakly shake your head. Blood trickled down your chin in thin lines, dripping onto the edge of your upper piece, leaving dark-red stains on the feathers. "You've been feeling unwell all evening. I'm worried about you."

That's how he was, Lo'ak Sully. Caring and considerate, not towards everyone, actually towards no one, but towards a selected few, including you. Instead of enjoying the celebration held in his honor, he had barely left your side throughout the evening. Even now, he preferred sitting with you rather than accepting another drinking challenge. In two days, he would embark on another journey to the Eastern Sea as the Tulkun Season was about to begin, and you wouldn't be able to see him for a long, long time. Actually, you should be grateful; missing him would only be temporary, and you would have something to look forward to. Five years ago, when you thought you would never see the Sully's again, it looked quite different. Back then, external circumstances had forced them to leave your clan and seek shelter far away in the East, leaving you with a void deep inside you. Fortunately, those external circumstances had been resolved by now, and Lo'ak, he was both Omatikaya and Metkayina now, being the bridge between the two clans, with the tattoo on his side below his cummerbund serving as proof. You were very proud of him and loved listening to his stories about his other friends and adventures. However, the farewell was close, meaning until his return in six moons, you would miss him, so much. 

"You're drunk," you managed to say with difficulty. Speaking was incredibly hard for you, and the words felt fragile on your lips. "The village is over an hour away. And I won't let you fly; I'd rather die a wretched death out here."

"As charming as ever," Lo'ak muttered but secretly agreed. "Y/n, I... Can you stand up?" Of course, you couldn't. He presumably realized that in the next moment. "I'm going to quickly run back to the party, and you'll wait for me to return, okay? I'll hurry, I promise. Do you understand me?"

Your nod came seconds too late; he had already headed back toward the direction of loud music and youthful laughter. The vibrations reached the ground, shaking the earth beneath you. You could faintly hear Kiri's laughter as someone played the blue flute in the background. The spots danced before your eyes without you having to close them, and while the pain in your temples had eased, every sudden movement felt like your skull was about to explode.

A small group of young Na'vi passed by on the other side, maybe ten meters away from you, laughing and drinking while heading straight into the forest, but without noticing you; two couples, maybe a year or two older than you, with their hands clasped and bottles sharing.

The following thought brought a crooked smile to your lips and, inexplicably, tears to your eyes. But it was true. Pathetic as it may seem at first glance, all you wanted was to be truly loved, to have your mate by your side; a man with a strong heart who would love you like Jake loved Neytiri, who would call you beautiful even in the mornings when you woke up with messy hair and a puffy face; who would create a safe haven in his arms, where you could be vulnerable and share your deepest secrets; who would make you laugh with his infectious sense of humor, turning ordinary moments into extraordinary memories; who would hold your heart in his hands and cherished it as if it were his own, loving you unconditionally, flaws and all, reminding you that you are enough. Sometimes, more than anything, you wished for that to happen. And on those days, even Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan seemed somewhat attractive with his fleeting, almost coy smile directed towards yet another girl.

Another girl, yes. By now you were convinced that not just the girls but your whole clan had developed a crush, no matter how tiny or big, on the golden boy, and he liked that, of course, he did, he loved the attention and praise from almost anyone; almost, leaving you to possibly be the only person in the whole village who he wouldn't willingly exchange a word with. Not that you minded, on the contrary, you'd never gotten along with Neteyam since you were kids and you knew that it was mutual. 

It wasn't that you had never been in love before, experiencing the euphoria and joy of a promising and fulfilling future ahead. But once your heart had been shattered, it became challenging for you to trust in someone else's words, no matter how beautifully spoken. This is why stepping out of your comfort zone felt incredibly difficult for you.

"We're back," Lo'ak's voice interrupted your thoughts, and as he helped you up, you realized who we referred to. Indeed, Neteyam Sully stood before you, holding the saddle for his ikran, and looked down at you, almost with a hint of pity.

"Why him of all people?" you grumbled, giving Lo'ak a weary glance. You felt like tears were ready to spill at any moment. "What about Kiri?"

"I didn't want to interrupt Kiri in her debate on equality versus equity against that flute guy. Plus, Neteyam is probably the only one around here who isn't too drunk to fly."

"No one?" you exclaimed, unable to hide your disbelief. However, before you could receive a proper answer, Neteyam himself lifted you onto his ikran, who rested a few meters away beneath the canopy of flower trees, alongside the other majestic creatures. With a swift motion that would typically have prompted an eye roll of annoyance — your current state sadly left no room for such sentiments — he positioned himself right behind you, his presence uncomfortably close, your thighs almost touching. He gently patted his ikran on the head to greet her, before he encircled your waist with his arms in a way that made your back lean onto his torso. And then, with a profound connection, he established a swaheylu bond with his ikran.

"Hold on tight," he whispered to you and nodded toward a slightly lost-looking Lo'ak behind your shoulder. His voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he continued. "I may not be fond of you, but I really don't want to bear the responsibility for your death. Got it?"

That night was the moment when you first grasped the gravity of the situation, realizing that it was indeed something serious.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

When Neteyam, as carefully and gently as he could, lifted you off his ikran right in front of a village that seemed unfamiliar to you and carried you with quick, firm steps into one of the tents in his arms, the night air suddenly seemed terribly cold and biting, and you realized you weren't home. All the words on your lips vanished into the darkness, and you seemed even too weak to cry.

He whispered reassuring words to you, told you he had to bring you to the nearest village he could find, looked at you with so much concern in his eyes that you were sure you were hallucinating, asked you to try and stay awake as long as you could, but as soon as you had entered the tent, everything seemed to flow into a single moment. After Neteyam formally introduced himself, an elderly woman with red feathers in her hair told him to carry you right after her, anything else would have been a waste of time. She asked him a lot; your name, your age, what had happened that evening, whether anything like that had happened before.

You were almost surprised at how collected he was and how many of the questions he was able to answer so quickly, but actually it was only logical – he also spent as much time with Lo'ak as you did, so you, too, couldn't help but learn a lot about the oh-so-legendary Neteyam Sully. As if that mattered.

Inside the tent, there was an unusual calmness, contrary to your expectations. In your own clan, Tsahìk's tent was always bustling with activity, filled with people seeking healing or simply enjoying each other's company. But in this clan, it felt different. It was quieter, almost serene, yet it carried an air of solitude. You couldn't help but notice a middle-aged man seated on one of the mats, his head buried in his hands as if he were anxiously awaiting something. Or someone. Next to him, a little girl lay with a peaceful face, seemingly asleep.

You really had no clue why this man of all people was stuck in your mind so clearly – this inconspicuous man, the only steadfast memory of that night. 

The night when it all began.

The last thing you felt was Neteyam's hand on yours. Then everything went black and the only thing that remained was the picture of golden eyes and the man in the healing tent.

Vawm na txon. As dark as the night.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

When you felt his fingertips on your wrist, you involuntarily winced and looked up. "Hey, Lo'ak," you muttered, and he immediately pulled you into a gentle hug and kissed your hairline. His voice sounded hoarse and rough and the bittersweet smell of sweet yovo fruit mixed with a bit of salt hung on his skin; and heaven, you would have loved to never let go of him again. 

For a moment he just looked at you in silence and frowned before he sat across from you on the grass. Lo'ak started to say something, but his voice failed and a low sigh caught in the air around you. 

"You look tired." You almost laughed, and it didn't even feel wrong. You look tired. Tuk had said the same thing earlier that morning while sitting in front of her herbal tea and half of Neytiri's infamous sari seed bread. She had preferred eating her morning meal in her grandmother's tent, because you were there too, not for relaxation, but to drink the disgusting mixture Mo'at prepared for you every single morning for the last three moons. Uttering those words, Tuk had even cast the same concerned look at you, with the same worried expression on her freckled, delicate face, just like her older brother was doing now, and it had almost broken your heart.

"I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

When he said your name, admonishing with a sigh, his voice quivered, teetering on the edge of concern, before he hesitantly continued, "Are you… okay?" 

His unspoken words hung heavy in the air, etched upon his countenance. You could see the unvoiced questions etching lines of worry upon his face, 'In the past few moons you haven't gotten back to me or anyone else, nor did you answer a single radio call, I tried to reach out to you several times, but you ignored me, you never asked to speak to me, and when my family sent you my greetings you just smiled and made promises that you never intended to keep, nothing.' yet they remained trapped within the confines of his sealed lips. The restrained inquiry and underlying disappointment were palpable, like a suppressed ache that threatened to consume him; and deep down, you knew his effort to withhold his concerns only magnified your own pain, intensifying the weight of his unspoken concerns.

"You're my best friend," he finally just said and ran his hand through his already chaotic braids. 

At the same moment, out of pure impulse, you brushed a tangled strand of hair from your face. You had already heard last week that Lo'ak and Kiri would return early to transport some rations from here to Awa'atlu, thanks to Max and Norm who had decided to expand their labs to the Eastern Sea. At the same time, you didn't want to get too excited because they would only stay for a maximum of one week before being away for three more moons. Nevertheless, you had missed him. Every day since that party and their department two days later, you had thought of the moment he and Kiri left for the Eastern Sea, how he had briefly refused to leave until you were feeling better, how hard it was for you and his parents to convince him that everything was alright; how Lo'ak had promised to check in on you over the radio every evening just before the eclipse, how he had kept his promise, but you hadn't, and how you were contemplating telling him what had happened in those three months since he was gone, too anxious of his reaction; even more than the one time you had to make an important decision almost ten cycles ago:

"Why is he so mean? His radio code name is Pathfinder, and he has the audacity to criticize mine? He called me Plain Grandma, can you believe that!?"

"He also called you Slow Vipertail which is far worse in my eyes," Lo'ak had commented dryly.

"Shut up, Eagle Eye!" you had crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting, "What is so bad about Stargirl?"

"No offense but it couldn't be any girlier." 

"Well, I am a girl."

"But do you want the enemy to know that?" 

"I thought our frequency was secure?"

"You never know with them." When you had continued to pout, Lo'ak had nudged you encouragingly with his elbow, "Come on, you can be Silent Thunder if you like."

"Isn't that what you call your farts?" Kiri, who had remained completely silent during your discussion, was the one who had made that comment. You had made a disgusted face in response.

"Okaaay," Lo'ak had groaned, "Then be anything but Stargirl, Eywa, just choose something or I'll do it for you. Remember, your code name sticks with you forever."

In the end, the discussion had dragged on for so long that during the evening meal, the two of you had managed to irritate every clan member within a two-meter radius. Jake had taken it upon himself to bring it to a close and gave you your personal radio code name, which you cherished to this day. Not because it had come from your former Olo'eyktan, but from a person you loved and respected like your own father; it was more than an honor to you.

You looked at him now, at Jake's identical copy, a bittersweet smile forming at the corners of your mouth, tinged with nostalgia. His eyes were like the early sun rays that morning at Tsahìk's tent; two orbs of amber with irregular, whitish spots of cream – strange that this, of all things, crossed your mind at that second. 

"Eagle Eye to Skyracer," he playfully nudged your knee in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Come on, tell me why you avoid me."

And then, then you said it out loud; a single little sentence of four syllables, and his once sunlight-radiating eyes were covered by lids streaked with fine, pale blue veins, holding a glimmer of melancholy, like a fading sunset.

"Please, no," he whispered, his voice filled with sadness, as you sought comfort in the embrace of his arms, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Salty tears mingled with your lips as you clung to each other, his fingers interlacing with yours, a desperate grip that turned his knuckles almost white, the weight of the impending fate pressed upon you both.

As the realization settled within him, Lo'ak let go of you and collapsed onto the grass, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs and trembling with the intensity of his emotions. You immediately wrapped your arms around him again, wanting to share his emotions, knowing that this pain was as much his as it was yours, while the air around you seemed heavy with helplessness as the two of you sat there, engulfed in the depths of your shared pain. 

"No!" he cried out all of a sudden, his voice choked on his tears. Saliva glistened on his quivering lips, his breath was ragged and uneven; and his eyes, bloodshot and filled with more unshed tears, refused to accept the harsh reality you just told him.

"Why? Why you?" Lo'ak's voice cracked as the words escaped through clenched teeth. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into the ground beneath you, as if trying to anchor himself to the pain, refusing to accept the meaning behind your words. His tears mingled with yours as you still held him close, feeling his agony reverberate through your own heart.

Lo'ak's voice was laced with raw fury. "This can't be happening! It's not fair!"

The wind whispered through the grass, carrying the echoes of his anguish across the desolate landscape, but leaving his voice hanging in the air. The setting sun, a silent witness to the unraveling of two intertwined souls, cast its pale light upon the scene, casting long shadows around you.

Lo'ak's emotions gave way to desperate pleas, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please, there must be a way. I'll talk to my dad, he… he can…" he choked on his tears once more, "Anything. I'll give anything."

You stroked his trembling cheek, tears flowing freely down your own face. "I know you would. But sometimes, there are forces beyond our control, Lo'ak, I need you to understand that."

Lo'ak's resistance crumbled, his body sinking into a heap of devastation. His nose ran, mingling with the tears streaming down his face. He clung to you, a lifeline in the midst of a tempestuous sea, refusing to let go even as the waves crashed around him.

The evening wore on, its grey hue mirroring the somberness of your hearts. There were no words that could ease the ache or undo the cruel fate, so, you remained there, seeking comfort in the silence, finding comfort in each other's arms for you drew strength from one another, offering support amidst the overwhelming feelings that engulfed you. 

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

The next day, as the sun bathed the forest in a golden glow, you were sitting near the quiet stream by yourself, keeping yourself distracted and enjoying the gentle tickle of water, when you heard footsteps growing louder as someone approached you. You turned around, a calm expression masking the inner storm within you, just to see Neteyam, his expression hardened with determination

Your eyes met his, and you could see anger, confusion, and concern in his gaze all at once, catching you completely off-guard; it was strange that he sought you out in the first place, and then seeing him so… emotional, that was a first. 

He stood tall before you, the sun at his back, giving him an angelic glow that he surely didn't deserve, and it was ironic, too, given his angry pout that you were sure Lo'ak would've made fun of if he was here. 

Neteyam's voice was laced with a tinge of bitterness when he spoke, "You've broken my brother's heart. What did you do to him?"

"You already have your answer, apparently I've broken his heart," you said sarcastically to which he scoffed. You remained composed, refusing to allow his words to rattle you, and your voice carried a hint of indifference as you added, "Trust me, I haven't done and wouldn't ever do anything to intentionally hurt Lo'ak."

Neteyam's nostrils flared as frustration mingled with his anger. The man, normally composed, couldn't be further away from that in that very moment, when he took a deliberate step closer, his gaze locking with yours. "Don't play innocent with me. You must've betrayed him in some way."

"Betrayal requires intent, Neteyam," You held his gaze, unyielding in the face of his accusations, "Whatever you think I've done, it wasn't with the purpose of hurting Lo'ak."

Neteyam's anger wavered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation. "Then why? Why is he crying and suffering if it wasn't your doing? What could have caused this?"

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you shook your head gently. 

"It's true, isn't it? What Ivät said at training this mor—"

"Don't say his name," you warned, your voice carrying a deep, growling tone from the back of your throat.

Neteyam's anger softened, replaced by curiosity and even a sense of empathy. Though skepticism still lingered in his voice, genuine concern emerged, "But why? Why would you go back to him? He should be exiled but here you are, running back to him after everything he's done to you."

"Tell me again why any of this matters to you?" you questioned.

"Lo'ak cares for you, deeply. I care for him, deeply. That means everything you do eventually affects me," Neteyam explained, attempting to convey the weight of his words. "Understand that your actions have consequences for everyone around you."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now," you declared sighing, walking past him with determined steps.

"Just tell your parents you don't want to," he shouted after you, "I can… My family could support you, you know. You don't have to do anything against your will."

"Well," you turned around, snapping at him, "you can't fight against fate, can you?"

There was a brief pause as Neteyam absorbed your words, realization slowly dawning on him that there might be more to the situation than he initially believed. His eyes darkened, and his nails dug into his palms as he struggled to control his emotions, "You can try."

You let out an ironic huff, shaking your head slightly and biting your inner cheek to prevent a sarcastic comment from slipping out.

"I am not your enemy," he continued in a softer tone, seeking your eyes, "I'm only here trying to help you, yet you—"

"That, Neteyam, is not my concern," you interrupted him harshly. You met his gaze finally, the weight of unspoken truths hanging in the air between you. "I never asked for your help, nor do I need it. If you truly care about your brother, perhaps you should be there for him and ask him directly how you can help him instead of mingling with my private life and assuming the worst of me."

With that, you turned back around and kept walking away with determined steps, leaving Neteyam standing by the stream alone with his swirling thoughts, but you couldn't deny the flicker of vulnerability within you as a twinge of guilt tugged at your conscience for the way you had treated the only person who had recently saved your life, accompanied by a sense of regret for your harsh words, realizing that you had never even thanked him.

∾⋄∾⋄∾⋄∾

A few hours later, you were sitting on the wooden floor in your family’s tent; leaning your head against the slightly dirty rolled-up rug near the entry and pulling your knees so close to your body that the hem of your loincloth slipped a long way down your thigh. The evening had long since settled over the landscapes, and it was now dark outside. In your hands, you were holding a handcrafted mug with still steaming herbal tea that Kiri had brought you a few minutes earlier, and you clutched it so tight that your knuckles were clearly visible on your skin. 

Kiri was now sitting at the opposite side of you next to your hammock as she thoughtfully twisted the hem of her loincloth between her fingers, like she always did when she didn't know what to say, before deciding to leave the fabric alone. 

"Now tell me, what's going on?" You sighed softly and something in your friend's gaze brought tears to your eyes, but you didn't want to cry, not again. You liked Kiri a lot, she was the girl you were closest friends with, in the entire clan, but you hated to refer to her as 'best friend', although, strictly speaking, she was. You liked Kiri actually so much that you couldn't do it to her. Not after seeing what it had done to Lo'ak. You couldn't bear to see two broken souls within a day. But your previous encounter with Neteyam had taught you something: you had to be the one whom they heard the news of, not someone else, let alone a stranger. It had to be you. That much you owed them at least. And yet, it was so difficult.

"Everything's fine. Really." A weak smile crept on your face involuntarily, while you took a sip of your tea. "Come on, Kiri. Don't be stupid, you're missing out on the evening meal."

"You as well."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry." You sat up straight and leaned one leg over the other so you could look directly at Kiri. There was something in her gaze between concern and helplessness, but you could only vaguely make it out. She bit her lower lip lightly before continuing. "I met Lo'ak earlier, he looked... he really didn't look good, and he seemed kind of absent."

"He's probably missing Tsireya already."

"He said I'd better talk to you about it."

You kept quiet at that, unsure how to respond.

"You know, Neteyam said that you-know-who goes around saying… that he has approached your parents, seeking their approval to court you once again? Is that true?"

"Yes," you answered without any emotion in your voice.

"But there is something else that saddens you."

You lifted your shoulders slightly, just a tiny bit, and you already felt the tears threaten to fall down your eyelashes. You ran the back of your hand over your face, exhaled shakily, and pressed your lips together, but the first sob stumbled over your lips before you could have done anything about it. 

You muttered a curse word, and it took you a moment to pull yourself together. "I'm sorry, Kiri. I am so incredibly sorry." The tears ran down your cheeks unsteadily, and dripped onto the feathers on your chest, leaving behind light stains that faded a heartbeat later. "So far only my parents know, and probably yours, too, along with Tsahìk, of course. And Lo'ak, he knows, too. The others will find out when it can no longer be avoided, and… and this moment, it will come, but… you really cannot tell anyone, Kiri."

Kiri stared at you blankly, a single hair strand had come off her bun and fell over her shoulder in a slight wave. She was afraid. You were too. You sniffed softly and looked down, just a brief moment before you pulled yourself together and looked up at her.

"I am dying, Kiri, and there is no cure."

so basically, my first upload kinda flopped and I’m trying to find out the reason why, whether it’s my writing, the topic of the story (which I can understand since it’s not everyone’s cup of tea), or if it’s the algorithm. if you like this piece of writing, please let me know through your interaction 💕

[shiemori-writes]

Hey there Quinn! Since the request are open, I would like a Jack, Leona, Sebek and Floyd x reader (separately), where the boys find the reader’s sketchbook, and when they open the book, they see a bunch of doodles of them and in the end of the sketchbook, there is drawing of the boys and the reader, holding hand or something. Headcanons. Fell free to ignore. Thank you!

(This request might get spammed, Tumblr is eating my messages.)

—doodles of us ♡︎

the boys find your sketchbook sketches of them! <3

characters: jack, floyd, leona and sebek! ♡︎

includes: sfw, really fluffy, gender neutral reader as always, and mutual pining! went a little bit overboard with leona whoops

notes: hello to you to anon!! ahh this was such a cute prompt!! heehee thank u anon <3 ALSO WOOO I HAVENT WROTE IN SO LONG THIS IS SUCH A TREAT!

♡︎ JACK HOWL♡︎

"—Wait prefect!! you forgot your.!..sketchbook...?"

you guys had just finished your little study (date) session in his room and was done for the day, you had just gone back to Ramshackle when he noticed that you had forgotten what seems to be your sketchbook, wide open.

Initially, he was in awe at your artistic ability, even by the doodles that were less polished, he thought they were adorable (he'd never tell you that though, hehe)

But then he saw doodles of what seems to be..him and you...ok ok cool.. him and you- wait— him and you?!

The doodles ranged from just doodles of his name surrounded by hearts, to him in chibi form, to tiny-him and tiny-you holding hands, god you were too adorable

He really couldnt stop his tail from wagging, nor the smile that was slowly spreading on his face, you were really cute y'know that?

At the bottom of the page he saw a different doodle, it was more of writing but from what he could tell, it was ai-ai gasa, which he could vividly remember you swooning to him, about how oh so romantic it would be with your crush,

And surely there the two of your names was, written under the little umbrella you had drawn, a little love-charm you like to call it, and while you had said you didnt believe it, you mainly just wanted to do it for wishful thinking.

He always wondered if he was the one you were talking about but now..

He felt his heart skip a beat and then another one, and another one..

He was thankful he was in his room right now, because he would absolutely die if someone saw him like this, red faced tail wagging at sonic-speed with an absolute love sick expression

He tried to calm his racing heartbeat with ease, (he is a runner after all) and when he finally calmed down he felt content, he was gonna return the sketchbook to you that's for sure, and maybe something more

He confessed not too long after <33

♡︎ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR♡︎

He had just woken up from a long-cat-nap when his eyes wandered to your slumbering figure, clinging onto his arm, a calm look on your face

unconsciously smiling at the sight 'cute' he thought. He was glad he convinced you to rest, that damn bird was dumping his work onto you again, it was a pain, you need more rest, really.

He sat up, uncharastically-careful to not wake you from your state of slumber, stretching his muscles and letting out a yawn when he noticed the sketchbook beside him, open and what seems to be unfinished,

Curiously he took a little peak, wouldn't hurt right?

He flipped through the pages, feeling a smile curl on his lips when he saw how passionate you were for art, he was glad you had something you loved, but also hated how soft he was feeling rn, seriously herbivore what spell did you cast on him?

Hes just a softie in denial mwuehehe

Anyways, he stopped skimming through the pages when he noticed what seems to be..Him? Oh, ohoho he was gonna tease you so much for this herbivore. (bastard)

While the thought of you being flustered entertained him, he really did appreciate the way you saw him, and..oh? Was this a doodle of you and him? You really are a sap arent' cha herbivore? (lovingly)

He chuckled, finding enjoyment at the way you'd doodle you and him holding hands, or the way you drew his names surrounded by multiple hearts

'cute' he found himself repeating in his head

Looking at the bottom of the pages, he noticed the way you'd consistently draw an umbrella along with your names on it through every page, ai-ai gasa as you call it. He found himself remembering your ramble about how cute it was, thinking he wasnt listening as much, but he was, he always found himself listening to your voice, as sappy as that was (really herbivore your sappyness is getting to him ugh)

Seeing his name and yours doodled under the umbrella sure was somethin', he remembered you joking about how you'd try it with him as it was commonly reffered to as a "love-spell-charm" of some sort in your world

frankly he thinks it was dumb, why do that when you already have his heart hmmm herbivore? And do' ya really think a love spell would work on him?

^ but you didn't know that, maybe that was partially his fault for not being too forward but he blames you too for being dense (wow rlly leo? smh../j)

Closing the sketchbook, he found himself grinning from ear to ear, tail flicking from side to side in delight as he peered back at you, still blissfully unaware of his discovery, heh, he'll tease ya for sure, but for now, he's gonna cherish this peaceful moment with you, after all, time spent with you is his favorite time of all (apart from sleeping)

♡︎FLOYD LEECH♡︎

"Ko~e~be~ CHAN!!!"

He sang through the empty hallway, pouting when he didn't see you

He couldnt find you anywhere!!!! It was so annoying!!! it was terribly boring too!! which!! he!! Hates!! Where's his koebe chan >:(

Angry eel later turns to sad pouty eel :(

(poor azul had to deal with his outburts)

Huffing in annoyance, he tried to work at his shift at the monstro lounge, to everyone's surprise, floyd leech????? Working??? The world must be ending!

But no, he just was hoping maybe, maybe his little shrimpy visits him, I mean, you did visit yesterday, so he now automatically assumes you're gonna do it everyday! And if not, well then he's just gonna squeeze someone, maybe that will make him feel better. Hmmph.

YOU DO VISIT YAYAYAYAYAY!!! (Jade and azul practically begged you at this point bc he was being so aggressive to the customers)

BUT THAT DOESNT MATTER!! WHAT MATTERS IS HIS KOEBE CHANS HERE!! :D

Upong seeing you his frown immediately turned into a bright grin, running towards you to give you the biggggesst squeeze!! ever!! because his koebe chans here! <3

He squeezed you tightly, (but not too tight! He knows his koebe-chan is fragile) and gave you the biggest kiss, a loud "mwah!" Was heard as he kissed your cheeks, giggling at how flustered you seem! koebe chans so cute!! hehehe!!

Ok maybe bringing you in was a bad idea cuz now floyd refuses to work...(cue azul ripping his hair out in the bg)

He grinned at Azul, waving goodbye as he dragged you out of monstro lounge with jade sighing and Azul screaming at him to COME BACK.

Asking where he was taking you, he just shrugged, "somewhere fun!!!" he replied, ah of course, as vauge as ever, you sighed, but couldnt help the fond look on your face when he looked so excited

(you just hoped he wasnt taking you for another swimming lesson hhh)

Annndd we've arrived!! To...Ramshackle??? Huh, you expected something more from Floyd, noticing your confusion, he simply smiled, letting himself in with your hand in his

"I saw shrimpy drawin' lotsa stuff!! I wanna see!!" He gestured to your sketchbook, like a child excitedly pointing his gift out for christmas

You were skeptical at first, but after he promised not to ruin anything, you gave him the sketchbook, with him asking questions about your drawings, whether it be a doodle or a finished piece.

He went silent

Were those,..doodles,,, of him??? :O

AWWWW SHRIMPY YOU REALLY ARE ADORABLE!!

He started giggling like a little schoolgirl with a crush, finding more and more doodles of you and him holding hands or just being rlly cute!

Then he saw the umbrella thingy doodle, it was your name next to his!! He was floored! secretly glad his shrimpy loved him just as much as he loved shrimpy<3

Curious to what he was giggling at, you redirected your focus onto your sketchbook and was absolutely mortified at what he found, trying to desperately take it from his hands, dang it how did you forget you drew those?!

he however didnt give you the sketchbook, instead setting it ontop of the highest shelf (bastard p2)

He couldnt stop himself from giving you the biggest hug ever (part 2) Only this time, you can tell it was filled with more love and adoration, with him peppering your face with kisses

"hehehe! Dont be shy shrimpy! its really cute!! This means you love me right?? I love you too!!" He swooned, his face being coated with a lovely-pink color, he smile uncharastically bright and genuine. It wasn't the twisted smile he'd display when he was squeezing someone, or when he got amusement to tormenting goldfishie, (poor riddle lmao) but a genuine, awestruck smile.

Bewildered, you can only hide your face at the crook of his neck, mumbling complaints while he laughs, kissing the top of your head when you eventually said 'I love you too'

♡︎SEBEK ZIGVOLT♡︎

Who would have thought, Sebek, the retainer of the soon to be crowned prince, befriend a magicless human like you?

Well..As much as he hates to admit it, there really was more to you then he gave you credit for, you'd always survive no matter what anyone throws at you, all without being unkind, and pushing through everything, and most of all, you liked him for him, and listened to him no matter what was on his mind, and that, he thanks you for, albeit clumsily (and very loudly)

You made it a routine to hang out everyday despite your busy schedules, often in the library (he got kicked out though, so you didnt stick for long) or in the comfort of his room, after all, diasomnia provides a more...comfortable space, no offense (name).

Anyways, during your normal sessions, you happily chatted away with Sebek, as he recounted tales from his childhood and the Valley of Thorns, a content smile on his face.

You hummed, sketching away while looking at the time, gasping when you noticed how late its gotten (and how hungry grim must be)

Noticing your sudden distress, he questioned you immediately, showing concern in a..very sebek way!

"Human!! What has gotten you so alert! Did I say something to alarm you?" He yelled, frowning at you.

You waved your hands, chuckling nervously, "Ah- no Seb, its really late- I'm afraid I need to get back to grim" you replied sadly, as he let out a quiet "oh" pouting at his unfinished tale

"Well-alright then!! I shall continue this story tomorrow human!! Be- be careful alright!! It is unsafe!!" He fussed over you, blush forming on his cheeks (which he denied he had) "Actually- I'll just escort you so I can-" "Ah its fine Seb!! I can handle it!" you cut him off, knowing he still has duties.

He huffed, "fine. B-but text me when you get there so I can ensure your safety!" He replied, to which you nodded. "Got it! bye sebek! i'll see you tomorrow?" "Of course."

And with that you shut the door behind you, leaving Sebek to clean up his room, when-

"HUMAN!!! HOW CAN YOU BE SO CARELESS TO LEAVE YOUR!!!....sketchbook..??"

He furrowed his eyebrows, really out of all the things you forgot it was the thing you were always carrying around? Humans really are forgetful, tsk tsk, Not to worry human, he!! Your greatest friend and fae shall make sure your!!..hmm? Is that him??

Now he didnt mean to peak but..It was wide open! and- were those doodles of..H-him and you?!?!

Congrats for once hes speechless! Flipping through the pages whem curiousity got the better of him, staring in awe at how simple it was but..admittingly cute. Hmph. Humans!! Theyre just so!!..augh.

He found himself blushing more and more as he found more and more doodles, whether it was his name with heart scribbles, or him and you holding hands..It affected him more than he'd like.

The last straw was when he saw your scribble of an umbrella.. He knew this trope all too well, as embarrassing it was to admit, he's seen it before in the novels he'd read.

His heartbeat was going crazy

Did you really wish to court him?! Human how come you've never told him!!!

Huffing out in fondness he carefully examined the paper, feeling a wobly smile display on his lips. He was going to answer this strange courting method of yours human!! Just you wait!!

end notes! "ai-ai gasa" translates to "love-love umbrella" which symbolizes sharing an umbrella with your soon to be lover/crush since sharing umbrellas are considered to be very romantic! it's also a love charm/spell of some sorts, though its not believed to work, its mostly done out of wishful thinking, and bc cmon its so cute! i decided to add that since technically it is a doodle! and ive seen tropes like this and its adorable imo, anyways thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed!

[petra-creat0r]

Chapter 5 Secret Boss Prediction

Ohohohoh boy! Finally got to this one. I've been just sort ruminating on this boss for a while. The only thing I knew for the longest time is I'm at least 60% confident that chapter 5 will happen in the Flower Shop? But then what could be abandoned, discarded, or unwanted in a greenhouse/flower shop? Weeds? Mushrooms? Well I guess? Lotta flowers and though the mushroom idea was enticing at first, I couldn't wrap my head around a good idea for it. There was also the thing with this boss likely having the blue soul mode, and possibly having a reference or allusion to Papyrus (or Sans ig but Paps uses the blue soul mode first). But then also also with this being Asgore's flower shop and Asriel possibly being involved, there's the chance it could be based on Flowery, but then- And you can start to see why this took me so long.

EVENTUALLY, I came up with the idea of an abandoned toy soldier, lost among the plants and eventually taken over by them. There was also some talk about it being a nutcracker or garden gnome instead, but toy solider won over. Nutcracker felt too similar to Spamton and I just couldn't really get the garden gnome to vibe right. Anyways! Like two, three weeks ago I managed to sketch a design I kinda liked before trying to think on it more. Still not the boss I'm proudest off, but everyone, met The Great and Mighty Veratus! (Name subject to change if I can find a better one.)

(Once again, theme commissioned by my good friend @kierangecko)

Veratus, from verrat (German for traitor), ratus (latin for rat) and a corruption of veritas (truth). I think the thing I was struggling with for the longest time was the name. It needed to fit with the other names, and also sound good with the title of "The Great" (because Papyrus reference). Like I mentioned before though, that name is subject to change if I come up with something better.

Like I've mentioned with the other two, I know this is no where close to what we'll actually get, but all of this is just for fun and so I have some secret bosses to draw my Junior Secret Squad kiddies with. Once we DO finally get chapter 5, Veratus will likely just become one of the secret bosses of Fool's Fate.

Now, backstory under the cut.

A solider from a distant land, Veratus found himself stranded in this dark world after the Great Divide. His king and fell soldiers in arms falling back and leaving him for dead. At the mercy of the Flower Kingdom's new ruler and its army.

Luckily for Veratus, the Knight chose not to bother killing the lone soldier, thinking that the side effects of the Divide would render the rat to stone soon. Yet for some reason, Veratus did not become stone...

Alone and outcast in a world not his own, Veratus was eventually found by a man. A strange someone whom some had theorized brought forth the Great Divide. The man cast pity on Veratus, and offered the stranded soldier his help. The opportunity to blend into this world and infiltrate Knight's army in exchange for his loyalty and help getting close to Knight. Veratus agreed.

Veratus's fur became overtaken with moss and his body with vines, though it might have been painful it did make him look like a rather convincing part of this floral Dark World. In addition to this transformation, the man also opened Veratus's mind to the reality of his existence, as the man had with the rest of his pawns.

Veratus was able to infiltrate Knight's army and climb up the ranks thanks to the assistance of the man, only to be left behind and forgotten once again once the man was able to get close to his true target. Disappearing and leaving a Roaring Knight in his place. Without the man, the cracks in Veratus's facade began to show and it didn't take long for the rat to be ratting out as a rat. the Knight's army tried to kill him, but something kept him from falling. The plants consuming his body wouldn't let him die. So instead, the opposing army cast the lone solider out. Exiling him back to a life of solitude.

Until another knight and their friends arrived in the kingdom...

[sincerely-sofie]

Have you ever wanted to draw something but you fought due to your skill level at the time you decide not to do it

Ohhh man. I’ve got so many projects that I want to make but haven’t because I view my current skill set as lacking— and they’re almost always drawing related, because I’m very insecure about my drawing skills— even moreso than my writing skills. To go on a tangent and paint a picture of how severe this visual art insecurity is, I will list off how many people I have directly permitted to read my major written pieces once I passed my mid-teens:

My older sister, because she was my co-writer for the project and not letting her read my work wasn’t an option

My mother on one occasion

My aunt, who has experience with writing and publishing, and I have only ever sent two pieces to

Look at that number of people. The number of pieces I shared with them, in total, was four out of the hundreds of projects I’ve made over the years. I was so precious about my writing because I’m insecure about it. I’m even more insecure about my art. I couldn’t list off all the drawing projects I hesitate to make because I think it’s impossible with my current skill level, not even in a thousand years, but I’ll give a few examples that are always in the back of my mind lately.

A semi-animated pilot to a fantasy-comedy cartoon parodying The Office, starring a goblin secretary who’s trying to assassinate her employer and take over as the final boss of an RPG-esque dungeon that operates like an office building, while her employer is a lich who misinterprets all her efforts to kill him as her being flirty, leading him to develop a very severe crush on the goblin. The project is titled “Boss Fight”, and I have all the resources I need to make it, but I drag my feet because of my art insecurity… also I would be doing all the voice acting myself, and I don’t find my voice very appealing even when I change it to fit different characters.

A webcomic about a fantasy world populated by bipedal bug people that features a very brief “save the world” plot, then focuses the rest of the storyline on how the characters recover from the events of their backstories and the trauma the experienced while saving the world. It’s titled “The Creeping Chronicles”, and I love the project but am so insecure about being able to do the story justice with my art skills that I’ve tentatively pivoted to making it a book series instead. It’s got 21k+ words across 10-ish chapters because I’m too insecure about my art to draw it fully.

A slice of life comic titled “Welcome to Wayside” that’s basically Gravity Falls meets Stardew Valley where a young girl saves a cryptid’s life and now he’s stuck helping her until he repays the life debt he owes. The story features a vaguely men in black-style evil secret agency called G.L.O.O.M. (Gents for Ludicrous Oddity Organization and Management) who have various ranks are named after facets of fashion (khakis are their grunt labor and pocket squares are researchers) and they use a threat-ranking system based on dress codes (i.e. “WE HAVE A BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET, REPEAT: BLACK TIE DOWN ON SOUTH STREET”), and I adored G.L.O.O.M. along with the cast of characters featured in the story, but I don’t feel confident in my ability to design interesting-looking original cryptids.

I could leave this post at that, but I’ve got an important thing to say on this subject—

If you want to make something but are hesitating to because your skill levels are lackluster, make it anyways.

Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever can. Let yourself make the thing, and let yourself make the thing badly. Love it and how ugly it is. The perspective is all askew in this part, and that character is horribly off model there, and isn’t it all amazing? You made that! You made a thing! And you wouldn’t have this thing that you made if you waited until the conditions were perfect to make it and refused to create the thing before your skills were sufficient.

There’s this terrible thing about creative projects— one that is very noticeable in drawing projects especially, in my experience. As your artistic skills develop, your artistic vision also develops to become more and more detailed and masterful… and it’s always going to be outside of your grasp. If you wait until you’re ready to make the thing, you will never make the thing, because you’ll never feel ready no matter how much you build your skills. But if you make the thing before you feel totally prepared, you’ll learn and grow artistically as well as personally, and will be able to feel more confident in future thing-making efforts.

[kidfoundonstreets]

LOVEBRUSH CHRONICLE. YOU LIKE?

ill try to keep it brief 1/20397

lovebrush chronciles is an otome game deisgbed by team/company I AM ACTUALLY NOT SURE DESPITE YOU SEEING IT EVRRYTIME YOU ENTER THE GAME HOLD ON neteaze games (passion of gamers) and it is about altnerate universes, time fuckery, and school life.

the game begins introducing itself as a regular otome school life sim (my condolences to the fans who fell for william first sight only to find out hes not an actual love interest trust me i see u i feel u) but then WHAM BAM!! just when u thougut ur girl best friend was lookin kinda cute she gets X_x in this summon circle and you jump in to save her only to find out youre now in a royal cage surrounded by people that needa sacrifice you to save themselves from their own doom. oh and youre not in your own world anumore good luck have fun

so now here goes the different plots and paths with the love interests. the way i playrd it was as they introduced it, which was ayn aklaid lars claerence. no cael route yet which rips me apart every night. the love interests seem to have consistent values throughout most universes despite all of their diferet upbringings which i find pretty cool considering schoollife and royaltylife are two completely drastic diferent things, and also i nejoy how mc is written with more character and an amazing design to match the rest of the beautifully drawn cast

on that topic the art is GORGEOUS. i have never seen such beautiful detailed art in a game before and i assure you it will not disappoijnt. the graphics and smoothness of the game are especially a great touch. THERES A MINI STORY FOR EACH CARD BTW SR AND UP ITS SO GOOD becasenit feels as if the creatoes actually put care and give a shit into whar theyre writing and drawing and even in little events the absolute quality and depth of the cast shines theough its just i cannot express how much you need to play tjis game if you like dating sims ITS FREE TOO??,×*#&@ IMSO SAD WHY ID OBEYEME GETTING SM ATTENTION WHEN THIS IS SITTJNGHERE HUH dont get me wrong i too was in that hole but trust me brother there is only one man worth it there and obeyeme sure as hell isnt gonna do it justice with its 200+ chapter peobably plotline

anywya its 11 pm and ibhave no idea how to organize this post so ill just go through the cast

he is my plaything

ANYWAY ayn is so maahh hes the stupid cat that sleeps on me at night HE USED YO BE MY FAV AND WAS EXACTLY MY TYPE OFF THE BAT ITS SO IRONIC HES MY LEASY LIKED NOW but hes still very good and god you need to see this

^^ bisexual dilemma

^^ HIS EMO PHASE

i like him as a side piece, he has a nice personality but it doesnt stick out to me as much as the rest but i heavily respect the enjoyers of him

Aigh now

HHHRHRGGGHWH HHRGGBW WHWHWBW W SLSOPE9282B3BDND BSHSJW W GHENRBR .R FJJGGW HJ W..B GHN.F. H . THROWSUP aklaid my dear my darling ! i lvouou my little STARBOY my favorite my self sacrificing devoted prince who acts soo nice but is the cause of his own decay. smooochh I ADORE HIM dude one time he almost dies and mc is like "i am so sorry" and hes smiling qhile saying "nono! this is the happiest ivebeen" GET THERAPY

lars is my favorite lesbian

im onsessed w him hes always fun no matter where he is and yet they still dont dumb him down the moments where hes serious only add to his character his charm is unexplainable his rizz unatainable you could never

my TRUE favorite lesbian

MY FABORITE MY FABORITE KY DAVROITE I WAS SO WORRIED HOW I WOULD ENKOY HIM BECAUSE SO KUCH WAS UNKNOWN BUT AHGGWDHHSHW HIS ROUTE HIS DEPTH EVERYTHING IT MAKES ME SO SADITS HWARTBREAKING DUDE "HAIR HOLDS MEMORIES" IM GONNA SOB INTO MY HANDS I CANT BELIEVE I LOVE A MAN NAMED CLARENARENCNEUXIHQBQ SHUTOROSHUSITP oh and he really likes cats :D

i have run out of images but cael caught my eye since the beginning and i dont know whats wrong with him is he my parental figure my wife my side piece my worst enemy my hater my lover my killer my doomer my caretaker my one-time-leave-you-for-nine-months

i genuinely cannot stand him hes the one who i always run to and check on firstin efents and stories not claerence not lars not alkaid but fucking CAEL.

i cant help it maybe in the end my heart really belongs to him because im still waiting for his route and for him to show moreemotion and maybe break down or slowly go through the agony of learning to accept love despite everything despite you

this is the only part i feel a little uneased about in the writers hands.. they are very capable hands.. but will they do him right.. hes so stupidly simple but not it makes me grit my teeth and die

◇°♡○♤○£▪︎¥°₩`£•♡○◇○♡♤◇•◇•♡☆

THANK YOU EVERYPONY FOR REASING IF YOU DID PLEASE SMASH THAT OIKE AND SUBACRIBE BUTTON FOR MORE UNHINGED RANTS IM SORRY FOR BEING AUSTISTIC AND MAY DO IT AGAIN ♡♡ GOD BLESS

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 49.5

Chapter 49

Masterlist

"Zoltan, what is happening?" Aemma inquires of the dwarf as she, Aemond, Criston, and Ivan run over to find out what was going on.

"It's Kaedwen," Zoltan tells her, "they've begun their siege. They're attempting to storm the gate as we know it." "Do we have any protective measures in place?"

"Of course we do!" Zoltan insists, "what you didn't think we'd be prepared for this, Silverlark? That we were sitting and farting all the live long day waiting for the Kaedwini pricks to arrive?" "...of course not, Chivay, I apologize for coming to that assumption," Aemma says with humor, "what exactly do we have in store for Kaedwen."

"See for yourself," Zoltan points to where Geralt was, who was in the middle of working the cogs on the other side to open the valves installed in the barricade. Zoltan then moved to his side and worked the cogs there. Soon enough, boiling hot oil poured forth onto the unsuspecting Kaedwini soldiers who began to howl and scream in pain. Aemma had grimace on her face, almost feeling sorry for the soldiers. "Aemma, you should look away," Aemond insists. "I've seen worse," Aemma points out. That was actually a lie, but Aemma has seen her fair share of blood and gore in the last six years when she fought monsters and the like.

"Aye, they fry up lovely," Zoltan says as he witnesses the scene before him, "can sure feel the heat from up here." "Dragons prefer heat anyway," Aemond assures. "If you say so," Zoltan says with a shrug.

Geralt joined the group. Aemma watched the battle continue to carry out. The boiling oil stopped flowing all of sudden. Looking ahead, one could see more of the soldiers marching forward. Both Aemma and Aemond could see who was leading the current assault.

"It's that sorcerer that caught me back at the camp," Aemma recognized. "Dethmold," Geralt speaks. Aemond said nothing, but had that look of anger in his eyes the moment the name was mentioned; he remembered back at the camp when Dethmold broke his promise to help him and Criston locate Aemma and not to harm a single hair on her.

"Fall back!" Zoltan directs the group to retreat along with the rest of the regiment as Dethmold cast a spell to break down the barricade.  Once past the gates, Zoltan has the alderman close the gates shut tight.

"Follow me!" the dwarf directs the group to the top of the wall surrounding Vergen. Ladders from the Kaedwen soldiers were set up so the soldiers could scale the wall. "Looks like they intend to climb over the wall," Ivan states. Right on cue, one solider manages to climb up. Aemond was about to draw his sword, but Criston beats him to it, disarming the soldier and pushing the ladder down, taking the Kaedwen solider along with it. "Knock the ladders down!" Aemma directs the regiment, "We can't let them climb the wall!"

The group work to do just so. Aemma was busy taking on one solider that managed to make it all the way up. She parried each clash of the soldier's sword. The soldier managed to get the upper hand and push her down. Aemma was about to get up and retaliate. "Aemma!" Aemond rushes over and disarms the soldier, pointing the sword at the man's throat. Aemma took this opportunity to trip the soldier and push him off the wall along with the ladder.

"I had it under control," Aemma scolds. "Could've fooled me," Aemond scoffs back, "you needed help, can't you admit it?" "I didn't NEED help," Aemma insists through her teeth, "and you should've been more concerned with the other ladders instead of being concerned with me!" With the two bickering, they didn't see the Kaedwen soldiers Aemond was initially taking care of sneak up on them. They would've been hurt had not Geralt intervened and decapitate the soldiers' heads.

That got both Targaryens' attention right quick. "You lovebirds can carry out your squabble some other time when we are NOT fighting for our lives," Geralt scolds the both of them. "Lovebirds?" "It is not a squabble," Aemond insists, "and it is hardly any of your business what-" Geralt silences the young prince by giving him a hard stare, "...she had it under control," the witcher points up, "if she hadn't I would've been there to help. You should've been more focused on the task at hand." Geralt then turned to Aemma with a small knowing smile on his face, "it is clear you have learned from the best, Silverlark. I recognize Vesemir's sword skills anywhere."

Aemma made a small, proud smile in response.

Aemond was taken aback by that statement, and he had to keep himself composed, though he could feel his lip twitch from the embarrassment of receiving a lecture from this lowly mutant while all Aemma received were complements.  Aemond was the one who learned from the best, he was the one who studiously trained with the sword. If Vhagar was here right now, perhaps the witcher would be more apt to mind his tone when addressing the prince.

The battle went on until the Kaedwen soldiers retreated. "We got them on the run!" Zoltan cheers.

"Silverlark!" Saskia calls out. "Saskia," Aemma greets. "I saw you out there taking on the soldiers. Your bravery is to be commended." "Thank you," Aemma nods, "of course I had a hand thanks to Prince Aemond, Ser Criston, Ser Ivan, and of course the witcher Geralt." "Of course," Saskia nods, turning briefly to the Westerosi trio as if she were trying to decipher who they are and then turning back to Aemma, "We must still stay strong. The battle is far from won, and we still have a ways to go."

"What must I do?" Aemma asks. "There are tunnels that connect to the mines under Vergen," Saskia explains, "no one else outside these walls know of their existence, or so I am hoping. I sent some scouts down there just to be sure, but they have not returned." "Then we should go in and investigate." "I will go with Geralt to investigate," Saskia informs, "you must stay topside to lead in my stead." "I uh, me?" "Can I count on you, Silverlark?"

Aemma looked over to Aemond and the knights to see if they would be prepared to object. They looked like they wanted to, but probably knew it was not their place. "Of course, Saskia," Aemma made her answer, "I will keep the morale of our comrades and see they hold the defenses." Saskia nods and gestures for Geralt to follow her to the tunnels.

"Princess Aemma?" Criston was about to speak but then Zoltan interjected, "your orders Silverlark?" "...prepare for the second invasion wave," was Aemma's answer, "see that the wounded receive the treatment they need, and make sure our soldiers are in top shape for the next attack." "At once," Zoltan nods before he turns to relay the orders.

------------some time later------------

"If those supposed tunnels under this village lead outside, then maybe we should utilize them," Criston suggests to Ivan and Aemond once away from Aemma's earshot.

"We can take the princess down there and escape before this battle escalates any further." "And how do we convince the princess to escape with us?" Ivan scoffs, "She won't leave these people to their fate unless dragged by force."

Aemond thinks on it for a moment, "perhaps we could do so under the guise that we intend to attack the enemy from the rear." "Are you suggesting we deceive the princess, my prince?" Criston gives a Aemond a wide-eyed look. "...it is our only chance," Aemond tells him.

Right on cue, Saskia and Geralt returned, Aemma and Zoltan rushing over to greet them. "I take it the scouting mission was successful," Aemma says. "You...could say that," Geralt nods, making a subtle glance at Saskia, something that didn't go unnoticed by Aemma. What exactly happened under the tunnels, she wonders. "What happened while we were gone?" Saskia changes the subject. "Fun's about to begin," Zoltan announces, "Herdsman Henselt personally leads his cattle here."

"We'll win," Saskia says with confidence. "Tell that to the rest of the defenders," Aemma says with a sigh, "they're convinced we're all going to die with Henselt leading his army." "You should have told them that if they don't believe in victory, they might as well fly a white flag." "We tried," Zoltan insists, "but they still look down."

"...maybe if we had some kind of plan to cut the down the enemy before they reach the gates?" Aemma suggests, "A sneak attack from the rear perhaps?"

"that is exactly what we were about to suggest, princess," Criston speaks up as he, Ivan, and Aemond join the group, "We've been talking and we had a plan."

-----------time skip to behind enemy lines-----------

"Aemma?" Aemond tries to get his cousin's attention. "Huh?" Aemma shook her head at the sound of his voice. Having just gotten outside Vergen from under the tunnels, Aemma felt a vision flash before her eyes. She saw Geralt in her vision taking on the Kaedweni scouts that had found a way in, along with Dethmold. One moment, she saw the witcher fighting, and the next she saw a gold dragon appear from out of nowhere and kill the soldiers. It was the same dragon, Aemma realized, that appeared at the La Vallette castle, the same one that abducted her from the skies.

There was also something else about that dragon as well, something oddly familiar like she almost knew it on a deeper level.

"I'm fine," Aemma assures, "We won't be able to take on the army on our own. We'll need something to get their attention on us, keep them distracted so the Vergen army can get the upper hand. Do we have any ideas?"

Right then, Aemma felt her gift take her to the past once more...the brief past in which Aemond and Criston had plotted to escape Vergen and drag Aemma back with them kicking and screaming. Aemma sighed the moment she saw this. She should have known better. She wanted to give Aemond the benefit of a doubt when he made this plan, thinking maybe he would let her be and stay if that is what she wanted.

Anger rising to the surface, threatening to boil over, it took her a split second to realize Aemond was already enacting his plan. Aemma made a 180, fixing to sucker punch Aemond across the jaw when Criston stopped her and restrained her. "Let me go!" Aemma demands. "I'm sorry, princess," Criston says with remorse, "but I promised the queen." "Aemond, you tricked me!" "I didn't have a choice!" Aemond insists, "you gave me none while you go about playing knight. If you kept this up, you would've been killed along with the rest of those fools!" he gestures towards Vergen where the resistance was about to square off with the Kaedwen army.

"Ser Ivan, I demand you fight them and release me!" Aemma commands. "You remember your oath to the Kingsguard, Ser Ivan," Criston reminds the half-elf, giving him a certain look, "there's no one here to stop you from honoring it."

Ivan stood there, conflicted.

Criston suddenly released Aemma, screaming in pain as he had taken an arrow to the back of his knee. Aemond drew his sword, ready to face this new foe. "I wouldn't try it if I were you," Iorveth's voice sounded as he came out from behind a couple bushes along with several of his Scoia'tel who were armed with arrows as well, "unless you wish to meet your gods so soon."

"You," Criston sneers the moment he turned to face the elf. Iorveth was quick to rush towards Criston, sword in hand. "you really wish to face me once again in combat, Sir Criston Cole? That's right, I remember your name, I have not forgotten, nor have I forgotten our battle back in Flotsam. Let's see you try and stab me in the back this time around when I clearly have the upper hand." "Iorveth-" Aemma was about to speak but Aemond charged at the elf. "Aemond, stop!" Aemma calls out, but the prince ignores her. Iorveth had a small smile on his face as he parries each blow of Aemond's sword. The Scoia'tel who were present stood by, clearly not seeing a need to interfere. It was clear Iorveth wasn't even trying, only fighting with one hand. But eventually the elf had enough and did a sweeper kick under Aemond, knocking the prince off his feet, "you couldn't best me even if I had one eye less than you, boy," the elf taunts, sword pointed at Aemond.

"Iorveth, that's enough, leave him alone!" Aemma demands, "the battle of Vergen is still raging as we speak. That was the reason you returned with reinforcement is it not?" Iorveth only gives Aemma an incredulous look, "have you just forgotten what these people tried to do to you, Silverlark?" "It was a misunderstanding," Aemma insists, "my cousin is a stubborn person, he's always been." Aemond fights the urge to scoff, you're one to talk, cousin, he thinks internally.

 "He just wanted to go home, but I told we can't leave just yet, not until I see this through," Aemma continues, "I gave Saskia my word after all, I won't go back on it."

Criston managed to pull the arrow out of his knee. Getting back on his feet, the knight drew his sword and charged at Iorveth. One Scoia'tel drew an arrow and fired but was cut off by Ivan's sword. Ivan then turned and parried Criston's sword before it could get anywhere near Iorveth. "What are you doing?" Criston demands.

"Don't hurt him!" Ivan exclaims, sword pointed at Criston now. "You are pointing that in the wrong direction, Ser," Criston warns. "I said don't hurt him," Ivan warns back. "We need to go," Aemma says to Iorveth.

"Why go through all this trouble?" Criston scoffs, "to abandon your post? Break your vow to the queen and the oaths you made before the Seven to serve your king?" "I haven't broken anything!" Ivan scoffs, "I am loyal, but I can't let you harm him?" "Why not?!" "BECAUSE IORVETH IS MY FATHER!"

Iorveth and the Scoia'tel stopped in their path, turning to face Ivan and Criston. Aemma and Aemond also stopped, shock looks in both their faces, but for different reasons.

"Ivan?" "In'hiede?"

Ivan turned to face Iorveth, everything he's been trying to hide was now out in the open, "did you know there was a woman in Flotsam? She went by the name of Joanna. Did you know such a woman?" Iorveth was left speechless. Taking a look at Ivan, he was finally able to figure out where he recognized Ivan from. The resemblance was uncanny. "Ser Ivan, how can this...bandit possibly be-?"

Before Criston could even finish his sentence, he was able to put the pieces together. Everything he had thought of Ivan, his quiet demeanor when he first took him to squire, his insistence on wearing that scarf everywhere he went...it all made sense now. To confirm it all, Ivan turned to face the knight, slowly reaching up to untie the scarf around his ears. The piece of clothing fell off, revealing the points of his ears.

"Commander?" one elf tries to get Iorveth's attention, "the uh, the battle.." Iorveth shakes himself out of the shock and runs off with his comrades, realizing they did indeed have a battle to win. He would need to sort this all out afterwards.

Criston was at a loss for words the moment he saw what Ivan had kept hidden all these years since the king had taken the young man er, elf off the streets all those years ago. Aemma and Aemond stood there in silence as well, unable to comprehend the fact that Ivan just outted himself before a knight of the Kingsguard.  "Now you know," Ivan breaks the silence. "You're...you're one of them," was all Criston managed to say. "No...not completely," Ivan shakes his head, "my mother was human and my father..." he turns his gaze to where Iorveth had run off.

Criston at this point was tempted to draw his sword, but why he wasn't so sure. He was angry for all sorts of reasons; Ivan having deceived him all these years was just another big reason. The knight reached for the hilt, hand shaking. All this time he saw Ivan as a skilled knight and an honorable man but now that this revelation was out in the open. Before Aemma or Aemond could intervene a horn had sounded off back in Vergen. The battle was turning and the non-humans were gaining the upper hand against the Kaedwen army, even with Henselt at the helm. "We'll need to talk about this later," Aemma insists, running off back to the village. Ivan took advantage and followed suit. Aemond followed next. Criston stayed behind, still reeling from the shock and sense of betrayal. He wasn't sure what he should've done. Despite the deception, Ivan had not broken his oath to the Kingsguard. Hells, Ivan had kept his oath better than Criston could have hoped to, especially after that night with Rhaenyra 16 years ago. He couldn't put Ivan to the sword; as far as Criston was concerned, Ivan was a better man then he was, even if Ivan was technically half man.

Taking a deep breath, Criston let go of the hilt and followed the rest of the group back to Vergen.

By the time they reached the main gates, Iorveth had directed the Scoia'tel to release arrows at the Kaedweni soldiers.

The Kaedwenis still held strong even as their escape routes were cut off.

The sorcerer Dethmold conjured a force field to protect the soldiers. "if we can't take out that sorcerer, Kaedwen might actually win this one," Aemma states.

Aemma looked around, wondering if Phillipa was nearby, or Geralt, or Saskia even.

A low yet loud rumble caused the entire battle to fall silent. All eyes now turned to the clouded sky towards the origins of that unusual sound. Among those looking up included Geralt and Saskia. Aemma looked up, "that...that sound," she looks to Aemond, whom recognized what that rumble was.

The surrounding area turned dark, almost as if a shadow had been cast over the battle. Out from the skies appeared a giant, lumbering creature with torn wings and scars decorating her body as a result of centuries of battles. All eyes from both sides had the time trying to realize what that creature is.

Iorveth muttered elven curses under his breath, realizing not just what the creature is, but WHO that dragon was.

Aemma and Aemond spoke in sync the moment they recognized her as well.

"Vhagar!"

Chapter 50

[pure-garbage]

Philosophical Mosshead? Eloquent Inner Thoughts Of The Swordsman

Punk Hazard presented one bizarre anomaly after another to the straw hats in what felt like a never-ending freakshow parade that defied everything Zoro knew about nature. He wasn't fazed by it, just curious. He accepted that there was a strong possibility that the island's multitudinous eccentricities would never be explained to him, and he was at peace with it.

Even so, nothing, not the bifurcated weather, not the human-animal hybrids, not the talking autonomous legs, none of it prepared him for the shock of seeing his crewmates personalities randomized among their bodies. His friends had been swapped around in a way that was mind-boggling.

'This circus is almost hilarious. Such an existentially challenging display of the superficialities of physical form,' Zoro mused privately as he watched his crew interact.

Zoro kept his thoughts to himself. He had two priorities. The first was keeping his bearings and not letting the situation rattle him.

The second was finding Lana. His eyes swept the cavern, taking in the befuddled straw hats, captive centaurs and gigantic children. The scene was incredibly chaotic in a quiet, dazed way. Even so, he felt like he should have spotted her by now.

"Think we should tell him?"

Zoro's haki caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Despite the fact that Nami hadn't said his name, he knew she was talking about him. Her intent invoked his presence and drew his attention preternaturally.

"I don't know. I doubt he would take it well. And she can take care of herself, right?" Franky replied, voice low. Not low enough. Zoro bore down on the two, hands firmly on his hips, eyebrows knit with concern and suspicion, lips pressed together in a hard, humorless line. His crewmates unconcealed intents betrayed the identity of the 'she' they mentioned.

"Where's Lana?" he demanded, drawing their attention for the first time. Franky squeaked, jumped and gulped, shrinking back a little from the imposing presence the swordsman was projecting. Nami, by contrast, crossed her arms obstinately over her chest, squared her stance, threw her shoulders back and met his gaze with no sign of intimidation. A second later, she cast her gaze down, eyes tripling in size as she realized the effect the change in posture had on her breasts.

"Wow, Nami! They're so full from this angle in this pose!" she exclaimed, expression enamored.

"Idiot!" Franky scowled. He raised his hand, but then seemed to think better of it and held back. "Stop looking! If that wasn't my body, I would have knocked you clean out by now!"

The strange behavior reminded Zoro that he couldn't take his crew at face value at the current moment. Sanji was in Nami's body and Nami in Franky's. He made a mental note. He wouldn't confuse the two again.

"Hey! Both of you cut it out!" he scolded the pair. He needed them to focus. "I know you were talking about Lana! What is it you're not going to tell me? What won't I take well?"

Nami and Sanji shared a look, then Sanji shrugged with Nami's delicate shoulders.

"He's wise to the fact that something's wrong," he sighed. "Might as well tell him what we know."

"For all the good it'll do," Nami sighed. "Not like we know much anyway."

"Nami! Spit it out!" Zoro barked.

"Cool the aggression, moss-head," Sanji scowled. "No one's happy with what's going on, don't take it out on Nami-swan."

"If someone doesn't tell me where Lana is," Zoro seethed, patience quickly wearing thin.

"We don't know," Nami cut him off. "That's all. She's... been missing since we all woke up after being gassed. She wasn't with the rest of us in the cell and we didn't see her while we were escaping the lab."

"The last time anyone saw her was on the ship," Sanji informed him.

Dread curled in Zoro's gut, but he clamped down on it with every shred of discipline and logic at his disposal.

'She's fine. She can take care of herself. Wherever she is, whatever happened, she'll be alright.'

Even so...

"Missing... you should have said something sooner," he grumbled. He reached inside his robe, down into the left pocket of his pants, rustling through its contents until he came up with a scrap of folded purple paper. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

'Not singed. She's fine. Still... just because she's not dying doesn't mean she's not in trouble. She should have been with the others when they were captured... why wasn't she with them when they all woke up?'

"Luffy!"

Zoro left Sanji and Nami to find his captain cavorting with the gigantic children like he was one of them.

"No one's seen Lana since we left the ship," Zoro informed him. "I'm going to look for her, that alright?"

"Don't see why not," Luffy shrugged. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, that's fine," Zoro shook his head. "You've got enough to deal with here."

"If you say so! Hey, Mocha peeked!"

"I did not!" the enormous child squealed.

Zoro walked away from his captain, leaving him to whatever game he was occupying the children with. He held the vivre card on his flat palm, watching as it slowly, surely tugged toward his thumb. He set off at once in the direction it indicated, but only made it a few paces before he came face-to-face with a wall. Unconcerned and determined to carry on in a straight line, he drew Shusui. The hum of tempered black steel caught Usopp's attention, who shrieked and rushed over to restrain his friend, frantically grappling with Zoro's wrist.

"Zooorooo! Whaaat do you think you're doing?!" Usopp howled, pulling Zoro's arm back with his entire body. Zoro submitted to his pulling, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I don't see any doors, so I'm going straight through," he explained, tone implying this should have been obvious.

"Are you crazy?! We know the marines are on the island, and Nami made it sound like Luffy's warlord buddy Trafalgar isn't acting as friendly as Luffy expects him to!" Usopp scolded fiercely. "How about moving through this place with at least a little attempt at subtlety?!"

"I don't need subtlety," Zoro growled. "I'm going to find Lana and I'll slice up anything or anyone who gets in my way!"

"Can't you at least put some distance between yourself and our little hideout before you start wrecking things?!" Usopp moaned desolately.

"Get off my arm, Usopp! You're slowing me down!" Zoro scowled, shaking his arm lightly in an attempt to dislodge his friend. Usopp just shook his head and held on more stubbornly as the waving motion of Zoro's arm pulled him off his feet.

Robin approached with a smile that was equal parts amusement at her friends' antics and a kind offer to help in any way possible.

"Why don't you let me accompany you, swordsman?" she proposed. "I can help you find the doors so you don't have to slice through any walls."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'll move faster on my own," Zoro grumbled. He raised and lowered his arm violently with Usopp still clinging to him, yelping through clenched teeth.

"And if you mistakenly slice Lana in half by cutting down a wall while she's on the other side?" Robin mused morbidly.

"Yeah, Robin, that's it! Psyche him out with the power of your secret inner darkness," Usopp cheered. Zoro finally managed to shake him off and he fell to the ground in a dazed heap. "So dizzy..."

"In addition to helping you locate the doors, I can help keep a lookout as well," Robin informed Zoro. As if to prove her point, she materialized a dazzlingly bright blue eye on the wall at eye level with the swordsman. "I may even be able to locate Lana in advance."

"I'll know when she's close," Zoro retorted. His observation haki was still rough, but he imagined he was familiar enough with Lana's presence that he would be able to feel her when he drew near to her. He sheathed Shusui. "But... I guess a few extra sets of eyes couldn't hurt."

"You two have fun," Usopp called after them, recovering and hauling himself back to his feet. "Robin, try to make him be subtle! And don't let him get lost!"

"I'll see what I can do," she promised in parting.

_________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ==>

== First Chapter ==

[smallraindrops-blog]

The Eros of May

WMFTD!Y/N x Hypnos

(Day 30)

Wordcount: 700

Summary: Told in snapshots. There is a beautiful man with sleepy golden eyes, warm skin kissed by the sun and the lingering days of spring.

Warnings: no beta

notes: a writing challenge for myself, I took two different challenges and mashed them together. Credit to this post and this post and their creator for making these challenges.

One more thing, these are out-of-order, not a straight timeline. Sorry for any confusion.

To find the rest, use ‘The eros of may’ tag please.

I am not ready for this to be over. 😭

Sketching

“Absolutely not.” You grumbled, eyeing the blonde man. You couldn’t remember his name, just that he was one who kept trying to play his lyre in the ungodly hours of the morning.

”It pays well, I appreciate all of my models’ hard work.” He told you, turning pleading eyes on Hypnos. “You too, I need couples models for my students and you are so gorgeous. Especially together.”

”Apollo. I don’t think we want to nude in front- ” Hypnos said, a splash of soft red on his cheeks. You were torn between ugly, blinding jealousy and the pleasure of Hypnos learning that other people found him just as lovely as you did.

“It is a great confidence booster!” Apollo tried again.

You deepened your scowl at this Apollo, debating if you could get away with pushing him down the stairs. 

“I said no.” You growled, shifting to put a protective arm on Hypnos’ shoulder.

It was then when his twin appeared, pitching his side. Hard. He yelped like a cat that got its tail stepped on. 

“We agreed you won’t ask the neighbors.” She hissed, then flashed an apologetic expression toward them as she all but dragged him away.

When you were washing the dishes after dinner, Hypnos came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as Hypnos rested his head on your back.

”I tried to draw you. When you were cleaning up earlier.” Hypnos admitted minutes later, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades. You placed a bowl on the drying rack, glancing over your shoulders at him.

”And?”

”Your head definitely isn’t as much of a circle as I remembered it was.” Hypnos grumbled. You chuckled, warmth bursting in your chest. You felt Hypnos smile, squeezing his arms tighter. 

You placed the last dish away, “Wanna show me?”

”No.” Hypnos muttered but went to get it anyway.

The drawing was ridiculous, your head far too large and far too round. Your hair definitely didn’t look like that and the last time you checked, you had five fingers, not three. There were unsteady lines and squares suggesting a kitchen. 

When you saw it, you had to turn away with a hand over your mouth to hide your laughter, it looked like a five year old's first attempt at art. 

“I can see your shoulders shaking.” Hypnos said tartly, poking you in the ribs. 

You broke, laughing as you pulled him into a hug. Hypnos crossed his arms, trying to look displeased but his lips were quivering in an effort to not to smile. You dropped a kiss on his mouth, causing his gorgeous smile to break through.

”I love it.” You told him and it was the truth, you really did love it.

“If I tried, you gotta as well.” He informed you. You rubbed your jaw, you didn’t draw as much anymore but you were willing to give it a shot. You nodded.

When Hypnos flopped onto the sofa, he dramatically tossed his arms over his head and batted his eyes at you. “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

You scoffed with amusement, sitting on a chair you dragged from the kitchen. “I will do my best.”

A few minutes in, you realized you had forgotten how relaxing - and frustrating- art could be. Hypnos yawned, his eyes going heavy. It didn’t take long for him to doze off, his face relaxed as he shifted into a more natural position, his arms crossed over his stomach.

You didn’t mind, carefully working as skies darkened into night. You definitely had to start on new papers a few times before you were satisfied. You paused to turn on the lamp, casting the inside into honey gold. Hypnos sighed but didn’t wake up.

When you were done, you rubbed and rolled your sore wrist. You placed the drawing on the table, a part of you seriously considering picking up drawing again for a hobby. 

A whole book just filled with Hypnos and for your eyes alone.

Carefully as you could, you silded your arms under Hypnos’ body, lifting him up in bridal style. Hypnos muttered nonsense, something about his twin stealing his French fries as you took him to bed.

Early in the morning, barely awakened, Hypnos stared at the drawing for a long time, and his whole face went red. You tried to look calm as you began the coffee maker. 

“Is that how you see me?” Hypnos whispered, tucking a stray curl behind his ear and he wasn’t able to meet your eyes. You just nodded. 

“Oh.” Hypnos said, his expression shy and pleased.

You were definitely going to order that sketchbook you were eyeing online.

[thenopequeen]

okay I am going to go on the rant, although this might not be 100% what I said eairiler IRL because there are some things that are only able to be communicated via hand gesters and stutters.

Also I am aware I sound very Red String on Cork Board. I am open to taking criticism. um but gentle if possible.

So to start, let's look at the actual role given to Racer (I will be using either Race or Racer as it's a bit easier to type out and are the names used to refer to him in the broadway musical which is what I'm most familiar with.). Oh and when coming to anything specific I will be referring to the recorded 2017 version because that's the one I've got a link to so I can watch it while reading fanfics or drawing (/srs. i do do this)

Race is listed as a background/ensemble character in any source I can find (although I could be missing some). however, his actions/overall role in the story are more comparable to Crutchie, who is listed as a supporting character.

This is heavy evidence for placing him as a supporting character, however what makes it interesting is that Racer almost seems to be favored over the other background characters.

About 50% of his dialogue could be given to another character and it literally would not impact the plot much, unlike the other supporting characters, who are unthinkable to replace in anyway shape or form.

If we're continuing comparing Race to Crutchie, which I will because they share the most similarities role-wise, those two are the ones with the most prominent solo lines. Racer has several from multiple songs (King of New York, Carrying the Banner, and Once and For All include at least one solo line that could technically be given to literally anybody else), and Crutchie has a few solo lines and a song to himself. Actually if you remove the tap section, King of New York could be potentially read as the closest thing we get to a 'side' character having a song. Literally all the other songs are group focused when it comes to singing, or are done by main/supporting/antagonistic characters. Racer carries King of New York, setting a wonderful tone with the conversation just before the song starts, as well as his very over the top energy that is present through out the entire song. Okay I also have a soft spot for the song because it was the first song I ever did a tap dance too last year (nowhere near as impressive as the show but it was cool)

Racer also is in at least TWO scenes where he doesn't technically need to be there. First off, the one where it's easier to explain: the scene just before Once and For All, where the gang is at the printing press. Technically, Race doesn't need to be down there in the first place. While yes, it's probably so he knows the way to direct the others into the room, he doesn't need to be there in the moment. This is also never explained in literally anyway. he's just there. Technicality, he could follow the trail of unlocked doors or somebody could bring him in. While this is technically grasping at straws I will stand by this. The second is a really minor thing that you'll only notice if (like me) you've watched this musical enough that you can quote a good part of it.

So in the scene where Jack is teaching Davey and Les to sell papes that ends with them getting chased to the theater, if you look closely you'll see a familiar face

I have rewatched this scene several times to make sure it's Race. it is. Why is he there. Literally the only other people in this scene are the passbyers who buy a paper, Synder, and the trio. Why is Racer here. He just kinda vibes. I still want an explanation because EVERYBODY ELSE leaves the stage quickly. WHY IS HE THERE???

Now to quickly break into the more IRL universe, in the cast call of this production, which my brother watches so so often (he wants to do musical theater), Racer;s actor is NOT listed with the other newsies. Even Spot, who is listed as support/featured in most sources, is just grouped into the rest of the ensemble. Instead, Racer is grouped in with the Delancey brothers. I still don't understand this.

This is your reminder that Race is listed as ensemble by literally all sources I could be bothered to find.

On top of this, in both the movie and the show, he's one of the most named 'background' newsies. While I've only seen the movie a grand total of once (didn't like the music in the slightest), Racer is a character you see A LOT. Sometimes he's not really doing much, but he's there.

In the musical this is in part because there is so much personality packed into him, but still. Elmer and Albert also have a lot of personality and yet I still find that Racer feels like he has more screentime.

On top of this, Racer is present in literally ever scene with all the newsies. And ALWAYS as Racer.

Anyways this is a slightly unhinged rant. Also if you haven't figured it out Racer is my favorite character.

Yeah idk how that happened.

Anyways agree with your sister that Racer is a supporting character. at least in everything but casting.

The cynical part of me says it's so the producers can get away with paying the actor less. The deranged crossover nerd in me says he's a Watcher

[silver-wield]

i find the whole tifa "SHOULD" be buff on twitter really sad. Some people are really taking the white Knighting complex and missing out why some are saying factual stuff about her. If the OP didn't try to force their way that she's a pugilist (which she is not, she's a monk but they're probably referring to ff14 pugilist -> monk system which didn't exist in FF7 yet.....but they really do no want to be corrected and would rather tantrum instead ... seriously so "mature" goddamn it, that's why I blocked them off) and that she should be buff otherwise you're kissing SE's/Nomura's ass. It's sad, really sad.

Do they even really love tifa just as she is? Then why ask to change her? Almost even removing most of her chest which is a part of her whether they like it her not? One could have a preference surely....but they shouldn't shove it down people's throat and call them names if they don't agree. If they don't want people to comment, then why post it on public then? It's the internet? I really don't like OP, they're being too defensive and insecure with their own work.... Just because people liked it, doesn't mean the majority will accept it, twitter is not the world. That isn't tifa, that's somebody cosplaying as tifa instead. Seriously..... If OP didn't say shit that she "should", this wouldn't escalate at all. there have been plentiful buff < - > ultra buff tifa fanarts made all throughout the years before but don't need to assert a stupid stance like this, acting like it's a fact when it's not. They should stop forcing tifa to be their poster mascular body type character in FF series and demand SE to create a new one instead. They should leave tifa alone and stop forcing their ideals on her, Tbh her best design for me will always be dissidia tifa.

Personally, I think remake tifa could use a bit off current Rose Namajunas' body type to balance with her huge chest and add more strength to her *design shape....but what OP drew was no offense, "not effective" at all in the grand scale of things. Completely deflated her chest and muscle size like compared to cloud lol would look like a sore thumb with the rest of the cast too. Perhaps they wanted a Reika Saiki....instead? But this muscle idol, unlike their redesign is still able to keep her feminine vibes though??? Hmm

Anyway, I don't appreciate op being too defensive and aggressive I think it was them who ultimately made it worse and those who sincerely do have muscle fetish too (in the guise of pro muscular women), Im sure cleriths are taking advantage of this moment. There are indeed bad takes from clotis as well but most of them are only there because OP brought up what should and shouldn't be, no different from people who assert her breast should be larger than it already is. I clearly see no difference and "both are still objectifying tifa", it's just that their taste are different from the other. They don't even realize their hypocrisy smh. Tifa.... When will they ever stop talking about your body. You trully are the most realistic character I've ever laid eyes on 😢.

This was long but also silver, I may not always agree with you but I wish I could be more Idgaf in my life when it comes to shit like these, how the hell do you do it? It's incredible.

forgot to add srry! Not making tifa cute is like a no go especially in japan. Her youthful, feminine, cute design is like that for her (specially her), for a reason, especially when her looks are supposed to be reminiscent of general japanese Beauty standards and not western ones.

Op has zero respect for the devs or fans by being all idgaf about canon and my interpretation should be what the devs do because that's what I want.

I literally do not give a fuck if people draw Tifa different from canon. I also draw Tifa different from canon. The point I made from the start, and have stuck by is that op is body shaming women who aren't overly muscular like women can't be slender and athletic. They're disrespecting the devs creative process and acting arrogant af because they got a description from fucking Google that doesn't even match Tifa's job. She's a monk, not a pugilist. Op acting like they're being bullied when they were the one antagonising people with what they said is so much garbage I can't even.

You'll notice it's never any other character being demeaned this way. Cloud lugs an 80lb sword around but nobody says he should be more muscular.

Op even thought they had some gotcha by saying they'll draw Aerith overweight, but unless she also says this should be canon then she's just being a fucking body shaming moron. They're not doing it to celebrate bigger women, they're doing it to piss people off, and at the same time implying Aerith's canon appearance isn't adequate either. Women look like Aerith. She has a straight up and down frame. When people warp that by making her look like Tifa and then try and claim she has curves that also pisses me off because she doesn't. It's not so much the art, although I also don't like it, but typically ignore it, it's the mindset of the people making and commenting on it like their opinions should be taken up by the devs and the game changed to suit them.

And comparing a body type to a haircut is ridiculous. Anybody can get a haircut. Tifa does get a haircut in AC. Hair is not body type.

Tifa's design is canonically cute and adorable. She's yamato nadeshiko

People can draw Tifa how they want, but this is how Nomura canonically designed her. She emulates the delicate beauty, so screaming that should be changed is just a disrespect to Nomura and ffvii.

If y'all are fans then why you being assholes to the creators?

[castleofshit]

[VIOLENTLY KICKS DOWN YOUR DOOR] ONLINE IM HABITED TO USING THE NAME BRI AND WELCOME TO MY CAVING AU

(I recognize caves are a genuinely distressing topic to a lot of people but I'm chronically under ground and here to kill off the beloved cast of Marble Hornets. This is your warning, the actual details with images of caves for visuals are located below the cut.)

I know parallels are going to be drawn to the burried from Magnus Archives so I'll open it with if you want to interpret that as the implied influence go for it! My friends (mostly @youkoartemis tbh) have assigned me avatar of the burried and I wear that title with pride (after crying about being bullied)

Anyway onto the AU!

Our antagonist, as canon- Alex! He is also chronically underground and lets the gang know hey! I've found this underground cavern and nobody else in our local circle seems to know about it from the hints I've dropped. Lets go explore it; maybe impressive breakthroughs will be found in this one! The depths are calling I spend every waking and resting moment thinking of this space needing others to descend into the depths. It needs it

The gang! They actually have done underground trips together and all have their own roles within exploration! Tim is great with directions and does have underground sketching and mapping skills. His mental maps even underground are frankly impressive! Jay! He's great at exploring smaller spaces especially those that you have to squeeze through. He's usually the first into small spaces (willing because he loves doing it) and will report back. He's told the gang that dead ends are ahead more than once. Brian! He's great with vertical and pathfinding especially in precarious sections, he's also has the groups highest degree of first aid capabilities. Seth! Kind of the scientist of the group and thus the photographer- he with Tim logs the groups progress and will compare spelothem with other areas they've been to start drawing conclusions on how spaces and formations they find are made. These special skills have nothing to do with their demise! They have everything to do with their demise

In what order everything happens is honestly a toss up though i will be putting then in an order just to get it all out. Seth is the only exception though. He's last bc he's the camera man!

First up Brian! And honestly the inspiration of this entire post! (No surprise comsideting the online name!) Very similar to his canon tbh. Only he thinks everything is normal and fine. He tied the line securely, he knows it will hold, he's done multiple decents. He even climbs for fun! Was it secure? Was foul play involved? No one knows in the depths

(The image that inspired it all)

Jay! He likes small spaces! I don't understand the fear (maybe youko has a point...) so i don't think I need to go into depth with this one... but heres some visuals!

Tim...the surveyer... maybe its the panic of seeing his friends hurt (broken) stuck (trapped) maybe it was his mistake that started it all. But have you ever been so certain of where you are going only to find out your dead wrong? Yeah its not fun. But is it his fault?

Seth...our cameraman. Dutifully logging the doomed trip. But everything has been a freak accident right? We will be able to find our way out right? When we do we will be able to get help for Jay right? He's just stuck after all...Tim's somewhere in here and with a true search party we can find him right? Brian...we can get home at the very least... right? We will be okay right Alex?

Alex.....

He arrives home, with none of the joy in his eyes none of the usual noise of his 4 friends that usually accompany him. There's a look in his eye. Amy knows something has gone terribly wrong. Before he says a word, she has texted Jessica to contact the SAR. She never liked the depths.

[go-to-the-mirror]

March, 2023

I MEANT TO DRAW SOMETHING HHHH

Istg, if the only art I make for this whole relisten is for fatigue I'm gonna cry.

Anyway, 152 time!! I love 152, I love Jon and Helen, I love the parallels, I'm excited, ohhh this is so cool we're heading to like fantastic episode WAY TOO MANY NOTES ones really quickly (too quickly, i want to draw something for 160) and yeah! Yeah! Oh god it's almost season 5.

Below is a mixture of amazing words - mostly Jonny's /j (i have some as well) - and rambling. I love this statement so. much. now.

@a-mag-a-day!!!

I'm putting a content warning for I think it's unreality, cause I talk a bit about... not being able to trust yourself, and that could be... not grand for some people.

Statement of Hezekiah Wakely, regarding his career as a gravedigger. Compiled from a series of letters to Nathaniel Beale between 1837 and 1839. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.

Who's Nathaniel Beale? I feel like I've seen his name before. Unless, of course, it's another Michael situation. There's... Nathaniel Thorp and Nathaniel Lukas. Hmm.

I’ve been installed here some weeks now, and I’m finding myself well-contented, my sexton duties keeping my time employed such as I scarce have a chance to allow myself those dark thoughts that so concerned you when last we visited.

What thoughts, I wonder. It probably mentions it further along, but I haven't really paid attention to this statement enough to be sure. For a while I thought it was "A Gravedigger's Entry".

The Lord gave him that voice for a purpose, no doubt – but sometimes that purpose does feel like it might be providing me a few minutes of unearned slumber

Hehe

My troubled sleep, on the other hand, has not, of yet, resolved itself in any way to my satisfaction. I work myself to exhaustion, cleaning, polishing and looking after the church proper, and I tell you, when I lie abed I can scarce rise again for the weakness I leave myself in. And yet, sleep still eludes me.

Heh, real. I too cannot sleep.

I’ve never quite known a rest like it. Perhaps it is the harder, more physical aspect of the task, or perhaps the quiet rhythm of it. There’s no echo as there is in the church, just the sound of pick and shovel hitting dirt. And when it’s deep enough, when you stand at the bottom, the noise of the world just… fades away to nothing. It is the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though the commotion and hubbub of life were but a terrible dream, and in sleeping you were waking up to peace.

BLANKETS ARE NOT ENOUGH I NEED TO BE BURIED ALIVE

That just sounds so?? Nice??? HHhnhnmhn

There is such peace in the churchyard, you see: to walk atop the soil knowing that, deep below my feet, those blessed souls wait happy and silent in the cool, damp earth, counting the days until the Resurrection. It gives me such warmth to think of that I have taken to spending much of my unoccupied time wandering the graves, and, where the mood allows me, taking my sleep there.

That is creepy, but like... I mean... I can understand it? It's nice to be outside in nights that aren't too cold, it's nice to sleep under the stars, the creepy part is the fact that it's a graveyard, but that can be brushed aside.

But I do long for that rest. I tell myself I wake each day renewed, but I am never as truly satisfied as when I’m in my slumber, and insensible to the world.

This statement is making me want to go to sleep and/or be buried in the dirt.

I do find, however, that when I dig my graves, I have been going deeper. And at times, I worry I might dig so far as I can no longer get out with my meager ladder. Now, those moments – you must not cast judgment on me for this, Nathaniel, for it is simply a passing fancy – but I will often lie myself down on that soft earth, and I will sleep. And I swear to you that the sleep I find there is more blissful than any I have ever found.

A Gravedigger's Envy? He's getting the nice grave sleep, I want the nice grave sleep, how is Jonny making grave sleep sound so appealing?

At least until a few feet down. But by the end of it… oh, I tell you there was warmth in that grave. Whether by my own body or the heat of the soil, I couldn’t say, but it was as comfortable as the fireplace of a public house, and the wind could not reach me in the hole that I had made.

I want that, I really want the grave sleep, that sounds so nice.

I had a dream, then. I dreamt a rain had come. A terrible bitter rain that chilled my bones and turned the soil around me dark and sodden. The walls grew damp and slippery, their firm shape lost as they began to slip and crumble. And then all at once they collapsed, the grave filling in a moment with a wave of mud and wet dirt. In a single terrible moment of utter terror, it was atop and around me, covering my face and filling my lungs with its awful choking sod. And the strangest thing was that it was wonderful. I had never felt such safety as within the crushing weight of earth all around me, the pressing embrace of the buried. In that instant I knew what it was to be dead, and I ached with envy for them.

Ok, hi, I saw a post, and I was thinking about the post, and I'm going to make a vague rebuttal (friendly-like, because they had good points). Hezekiah was afraid before the walls crashed around him. He was not afraid of some other terror, he was afraid of being buried - in the dead way or the forever deep below creation way... I don't know. Seems to be both, fear soup, remember.

The dreamers that have no idea what Smirke's fourteen is, or the supernatural, still affect the dream. Hezekiah associates being buried with being dead, and therefore the fears affect him as if being buried and being dead were similar things. I'm guessing quite a lot of people fear destruction and associate that with their fear of fire. Spiders and control for the aesthetic and also little bug guys fear being trapped when they're in a spider's web. People fear judgement when they're being looked at. (Speaking of, I swear at the shops today everyone was looking at me, like I saw them look at me, I felt their eyes on me, I associated this with the fear of judgement, and was appropriately spooked. What is this, episode 188 of The Magnus Archives?)

Anyway, back to this, Hezekiah's fear transformed into what Hezekiah became. Similarly, Martin - he was afraid of being alone, abandoned, and afraid of being found out. He became an "avatar" of The Lonely and The Eye. Also, would Martin's fear of being alone and being judged overlap, or feel similar? Is this why he gets both?

Mike was afraid of the part of The Twisting Deceit (The Spiral) that chased him, but he also had encounters with The Vast before Ex Altiora, he was afraid of the unfathomable power of that which chased him, he said that the form it took belonged to The Vast, the way he describes the pain of being struck by lightning - how it is so painful that to try to measure it is impossible. That's all pretty Vast-y to me.

Jane... Jane was afraid of the Hive. She didn't want it, she was afraid, she went to it... sure, she was lonely, but looking at her statement, how much of it is the Hive - if we're separating the two - and how much is Lonely? She talks of picking at her skin, of worms that emerged from the ground after rain, of an itch that called her to the attic, to the wasp's nest.

Sure, something chased them to becoming an Avatar, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it's "another fear" both because fear soup and because... a lot of their stories are about being repulsed and terrified by something, but getting so caught up in it that you forget that person who was scared, and you hurt others just how you've been hurt. Cycle of violence, babyyyy!

For an example, let's grab Peter and Martin. Peter's from the family of... basically a cult? Sure, he doesn't seem too bothered by it, but humans are social animals, and he was neglected for his whole childhood, that fucks people up @ the person who said yea Peter's childhood was actually fine. Then he becomes an avatar of the Forsaken and manipulates Martin into becoming an avatar of The Lonely in turn, who then - in the Eyepocolypse - hurts people in his domain. It's not one to one, but no analogies are.

I’ve been thinking, Nathaniel, of funerals and bodies. Souls that escape leaving this common clay to become one again with a truer clay. Were we not created from mud? And it seems more fitting to me that we should return forever to that mud, not pulled from it by some would-be Redeemer, or lifted to sing hosannas in his holy court. I’ve worked so long, so hard. Do I not deserve a rest in the mud from which I came? Commit my body to the earth and let it stay there. I’d do the same for you. For worship of the Most High - though it may be earned, perhaps, by He that made the heavens and the earth - well, to my mind, all that prayer still sounds a lot like work.

The difference between this and the beginning. Speedrunning his decent, as it were. The difference between envying the dead, and their rest before they go to Heaven, to wishing that when he leaves the world he stays in the ground. Hmmmm!!

But He is the son of God and we are merely sons of the dirt. We are not as strong as He is, and we deserve rest. We deserve to sleep.

The Buried oft represents being metaphorically under pressure, as Hezekiah is. He wishes to be Buried to finally rest from his work. That's interesting to me.

Also, feels sort of Flesh-y, but in a way where it's like... yes, soup, is not the fear of being one and the same as animals, as already being dead, as being from the earth and knowing one day you shall return all part of the same thing? Is that not a similar fear? Feels like one to me. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, that's about death, that's about the earth, are they not one and the same? We all come from the same earthen roots, people, animals, plants, everything, we are the same, and we will die the same.

I’ve been trying to sleep, but that bell kept ringing, the one over Jacob the baker’s grave. That nonsense safety valve the Reverend insisted on putting there, ringing and ringing, and disturbing the sleep of everyone in the churchyard. I’ve no doubt it disturbed Jacob as well, who worked so hard all his life and never thought to complain of his lot. He deserved to rest. So I cut the cord. And now he is quiet.

Oh, lord, he buried Jacob alive.

But I can see why he did it. He fears being away from the earth, he fears not being able to die, and so he sees it as saving Jacob and I understand that, I can understand that in his position, robbed of restful sleep, the grave being the only place where he can find his rest that he would do this.

I think this statement has just achieved the rank of "one of my favourites," because... that line. "He deserved to rest. So I cut the cord. And now he is quiet."

But worry not, Nathaniel. The love I bear you will not let me leave you ignorant. As I did with the Reverend, I will come and I will show you, once and forever, the true and glorious peace of the Buried.

Wow. Just... wow.

Nathaniel Beale is buried on the grounds of St. Peter’s Church in his hometown of Dunstable. And I am only the third person to know that in almost 200 years, after Nathaniel Beale himself, and Mr. Wakeley, the person who buried him.

Hey, we're still getting post-statement spookiness, but because everyone's just stopped doing work it's with Jon's eye spookiness.

I... wow.

I cannot tell how much of the change that comes over someone when they are taken by one of the Fears is a direct product of their influence, and how much is their own mind, desperately contorting itself to accept and justify the awful things they find themselves drawn to doing.

I have a really good quote that ties in with this, but it's only in the deluxe transcript of Hive (patreon exclusive transcripts that have Jon's notes and are canon, the Hive one is the most emotionally ruining of the ones out (1 - 33 as of 22/03/2023) so far), but I will say that his attitude towards them has changed significantly as he's... become one.

He called Jane Prentiss "the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss" and now... hm...

It's interesting how his understanding or conception of avatars and the like changing over the seasons, and although season 4 doesn't have a lot of other avatar interactions... Jon's whole humanity thing, it's enough to make it my favourite season when it comes to this stuff.

I have read many statements now by those who are changing, who are becoming – something else, and few if any of them seem… entirely rational. Entirely the people that they were before.

GIDDY LEG WIGGLE LIKE HHJNNHNHEHN!!! Humanity and identity and monsterhood and trauma!!! The THEMES of this podded cast, I'm love, I'm love!

But how can I tell, I suppose. My job is to view people at their lowest, their most fearful and unstable moments. Perhaps there is less change there than I imagine. Certainly, I don’t feel different. I have no desire for pseudo-religious philosophizing, or delighting in the suffering of those I harm. Then again, I suppose I’m hardly in the best position to judge. Perhaps to anyone listening to these tapes I sound remarkably similar to Hezekiah. Or to Manuela. Or to Jane.

So, I talked about this to my (middlest) sister because sometimes when you're this excited about things you just have to talk to people, like actually talk, and I had some pretty good thoughts about rationality, about if you can know if you're a monster. If you're slipping and you can't trust your mind anymore, how can you trust your mind enough to know that you can't trust your mind? It's just, how can you know you're so far gone, if you can't trust you, then you can't trust trusting you, therefore you can never truly trust yourself, can you? Everything is your perception, and you will never know if you can trust that. You will only know that you can't.

I just think that it's very neat, the whole... everything, all of this, it's just really cool, like how would Hezekiah know he's wrong to be responsible for the death of Jacob, for the Reverend, for Nathaniel? Does he? How does Jon know if he's just like Hezekiah, how can you truly know yourself - or understand yourself? Oh boy, this is such a cool statement and post statement.

HELEN Hello, John. Been a while since you’ve been down here. ARCHIVIST (Impatient noise) I didn’t come here to see you. HELEN Oh, come now! I’m sure I’m more interesting company than the late Jane Prentiss. ARCHIVIST It’s all that’s left of her now – apart from a jar of ashes in my desk. Just a circle of rotten stone on an otherwise-unremarkable wall.

Is the circle of stone a mirror? Is the jar of ashes as much a part of you as your rib? What was she trying to achieve, you wondered so long ago and now you have the answer and you still don't know why... why she listened to the song in her dreams, why she scratched the itch, but then again, why did you?

HELEN (Cont.) Ah… But that’s not why you’re here, is it? ARCHIVIST Yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jane. She was the first, you know. The first I actually encountered like… like us. She seemed so… inhuman. Like everything she used to be was stripped away. HELEN And now…? ARCHIVIST I wonder how much of her was still in there. How much did she choose to be what she was? I read her statement, she was… (inhale, exhale) she was scared. I assumed she’d been possessed completely against her will, but now I’m not even sure that’s possible. HELEN It is astounding the sort of thing you’re willing to choose – given an unpleasant enough alternative – isn’t it? ARCHIVIST How much of willpower is just – safety? “Comfort” by another name. The option to choose and be fine.

THEMES OF CHOICE AND HOW MUCH YOU'RE AFFORDED!!! God, I love this so much! I love how Jane Prentiss, our and Jon's conception of Jane Prentiss changes from season 1 to season 4. How it starts with her as an inhuman enemy, no longer the person she was, and changes to be... what was she, why did she chose this, who was she, she's humanised as Jon becomes a monster, knows her. Understands her.

She was scared.

Good lord.

And then Jon's line, "How much of willpower is just - safety. Comfort by another name. The option to choose and be fine." and that choice isn't really afforded to them, it's always these hard choices with one option that's like "at least you don't die", or live in fear, or whatever. The option to choose and be fine.

Themes. So many themes, I love this bloody podcast.

HELEN Hungry, are we? ARCHIVIST (Angrily) That’s not – – I haven’t done anything – HELEN – yet. ARCHIVIST (Roughly) I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing. HELEN … Do you… Know that? ARCHIVIST No. But I… (frustrated noise) I can’t die. They need me. HELEN Come on, Jon, no excuses. (The Archivist sighs.) HELEN (Cont.) They don’t need your protection.

I DONT KNOW WHAT TO SAY, JUST PODDED CAST!!

ARCHIVIST When does it stop? HELEN (Impatient) What? ARCHIVIST The guilt. The misery. All the others I’ve met, they’ve been – cold, cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does the Eye (inhale) make me monstrous? (Helen laughs.) HELEN What – why would it ever do that? ARCHIVIST I don’t… HELEN When has your guilt, or your sadness, or your handwringing ever actually stopped you from doing what it wants? ARCHIVIST (Stammering) I-I – I have not been taking statements – HELEN You’ve sworn of other people’s trauma for now because you’re caught. Because continuing would endanger you. But other than that, when has your discomfort ever actually stopped you walking the path of the Beholding? ARCHIVIST I… I don’t know… HELEN Even if it were capable of doing so, what possible reason would the Eye have to change how you feel, when it makes no difference to your actions? Helen was like you, at first. She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

OK FIRST OF ALL SOMETHING I CAN DEAL WITH, SIMILARITIES AND DIFFERENCES BETWEEN JON AND HELEN! Helen went to Jon for help with the guilt, and Jon turned her away because he was scared of what he was becoming. Jon asks Helen when the Eye makes him monstrous and she says no, it's not the Eye that'll do that, it's you. You have to decide to stop feelings guilty about the monstrous things you're doing.

Secondly, *gestures* yeah fr fr! I don't even... I just need to listen to this over and over and have it burned into my mind please :3.

Yeah, well, wow! Yeah! For real for real, this is just like 111, I'm discovering a new love for this statement, I need to make a new "holy shit tma" playlist because. Wow. Wow! Mhm hm! WOw!!! Uhh, well, uhm.

Your most humble servant,

landscaping-your-mind

[lunastarhawk]

The Call of the Stars

Part 14 of Julian post-route series Tides of Memories (on AO3).

On and on into the starry abyss, living my best life. Because who needs canon anyway.

Also, The Star is my new favourite to write. She's so fun.

Summary

An unexpected visitor sheds new light on Julian's book of constellations and myths. Altheia's desperate search for her gateway leads her to make a reckless decision to venture to the Arcana realms alone, and only Julian can pull her out - and chance encounters with The Star and Judgement are more than a little revelatory.

~*~*~*~

"I felt something pulling me, across the lake.  But then the feeling faded, and I walked us right into Valdemar’s trap.” “Is that really what happened?” “Yes,” Altheia said bitterly.  “I nearly got us both killed.” “Hmm.”  Judgement’s trunk curled upwards lazily.  “I don’t think so.” “That’s exactly how it happened,” Altheia said bitterly.  “My ‘intuition’ wasn’t good for much.” The impossibly deep, golden eyes narrowed a little.  “Your intuition wasn’t the problem.  When you stopped listening to it - that was where you made the wrong choice."  They paused, and then added, "But was it really wrong, after all?  You didn't find your gateway, but you found something else, didn't you?" Altheia shifted her weight on her knees as she thought.   "Well, yes.  Valdemar."  "A purpose." Altheia huffed in frustration.  “That doesn’t really help, you know.” “It helps more than you think it does.”

Excerpt

“You… really don’t know what this is, do you?”

“Ah… it’s a book of stars and stories?”

But it was intoned as a question, because suddenly Julian was certain only that it wasn’t just a book of stars and stories.  

“The name didn’t give you a clue?”  Selina was lightly mocking him. 

“I… I didn’t think… no, it didn’t, I didn’t…”

He looked at her helplessly.  Now she smiled gently.

“I won’t pretend to know much about it,” she admitted.  “But I read about a fair few schools of magic before I settled on alchemy.  Astromancers take the science of astronomy, and the magic of astrology, and they make talismans.  Very powerful ones.”

“They do?”

Julian was aware of how stupid he sounded, but for once he couldn’t find any words.

“Like I said, I don’t know all that much about it.  But I do know that these are alchemical…”  She traced around the outer circle again.  “These are planetary, or astrological… or maybe illusory.”  She tilted her head a little as she traced around the inner circle.  “Could be.  Anyway, and then you have the star chart in the centre.  I’d bet that one of those magical symbols is a trigger.”

Julian’s head whirled, partly from disbelief, partly from his underlying mistrust of magic that hadn’t quite faded - despite being in love with a magician - and partly from excitement.  

“Star charts, I understand,” he murmured.  “Alchemy, too… you take something, and you make something else.  I… don’t know about these other symbols, but…  What is it?”

Selina gave a little burst of laughter, of disbelief that Julian still wasn’t understanding.  

“It’s a spell, Julian.  Three different schools - or languages, as you say - alchemy, astrology magic, and astronomy.  Two charges, and a when.  It’s astromancy.”

“What does it do?” 

Selina shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’m not a magician of any kind.  I don’t even know all the alchemical symbols.”  She flashed him a grin.  “Try it and find out.”

Julian’s breaths quickened, his heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out on his palms and neck.

“I don’t know, I’m not a magician, I know science, the astronomy makes sense, but I don’t know any of the rest of it.”  He pushed his hands through his hair with one hand, the other on his hip.  “And how does it even work?  How do you cast it?  Just… just draw it?”

“I was joking,” Selina said gently.  But then she peered up at him, and he knew how flustered and wild-eyed he must look.  And she hesitantly ventured, “Unless…?”

Julian’s hands were trembling and a sense of panic was coming over him.  He shook his head vigorously and closed the book firmly, pushing it halfway across the table.

“No.  No, I don’t think it’s a, uh…”  he fluttered his fingers.  “a spellbook , or astromancy, it’s quite nonsense I’m sure, and besides which I have no business with it.”  Nodding decisively, he turned from the table and waved his hand in the air as he spoke, looking back over his shoulder at Selina as she followed.  “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in all my years, it’s not to fool around with magic you don’t understand.”

~*~*~*~

“Mm.  Very wise.” 

The Call of the Stars

Part 14 of Tides of Memories