#i feel like ive forgotten how to draw almost

[pickled-flowers]

My art feels so unsatisfactory lately TT

[cartarg]

just want to say u r one of the best artists i have ever seen 🥹 your stuff is so well rendered and expressive and i just love it. you’re so creative 😭 never lose your passion for art, the world would miss it ❤️

(this is @rulemakingrat btw i just forgot how to send an ask using that blog LOL)

🥺🥺🥺oh....

thank you 😭😭😭❤❤❤what the hell!!! that's so nice of you to say ;_; the encouragement is greatly appreciated it rly rly is, been in a bit of a slump in general + concerning my art for a while now, it can be really hard to get out of my own head abt it sometimes.. so tysm :(( <3 im honoured someone could think so highly of my silly little drawings!!!

[libingan]

— woven from shadows.

summary: two killers meet in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse. one is a master of charm and deception, the other, a figure shrouded in menace. despite their differences, one thing remains clear: they’re both cut from the same dark cloth.

a/n: IM ALIVE!! ive had this idea for DAYS yo, im so glad i can finally write again!!!

enjoy some killer! simon x killer! fem reader teehee

might make a part two, but it rlly depends on how much this shit eats

the warehouse is a relic from a forgotten era, its rusted metal frame creaking under the weight of years. the broken windows filter in sickly beams of moonlight, casting long, jagged shadows across the dust-covered floor. piles of rotting wooden crates and rusting machinery are scattered around, relics of a time when this place was alive with the hum of industry. now, it’s silent, the only sound the occasional drip of water from a leaking pipe, a steady rhythm that seems to count down to something inevitable. the air is thick with the scent of rust and decay, a perfect place for someone like you.

you’ve spent the better part of the night weaving through the labyrinth of the warehouse, playing with your prey like a cat with a mouse. he thought he could hide from you, but they all think that—right up until they don’t. the thrill of the chase had your blood singing, a familiar rush of adrenaline and anticipation. you left him bleeding in a dark corner, his gasping breaths echoing in the silence as you walked away. it was a clean kill, but nothing special. just another body to add to your collection.

but something feels off tonight. a sense of unease has been gnawing at you since you arrived, something in the air that doesn’t sit right. it’s like you’re not alone, like there’s someone else in the shadows, watching, waiting. you’re not sure what it is, but it pulls you deeper into the warehouse, toward something—or someone.

and that’s when you see him.

he’s just a shape at first, barely visible in the gloom, but there’s something about the way he moves that catches your attention. he’s not like your usual prey—there’s no panic, no desperation. just calm, calculated steps, as if he’s been hunting you just as much as you’ve been hunting him. it sends a shiver down your spine, a thrill of excitement that you haven’t felt in a long time.

as you step into a large open space in the heart of the warehouse, where the roof has partially collapsed, allowing a shaft of moonlight to spill across the floor, you finally get a good look at him. he’s tall, broad-shouldered, wearing tactical gear that’s seen better days. his face is hidden behind a skull mask, the hollow eyes staring back at you, unreadable. but it’s his stance that really catches your attention—rigid, controlled, like he’s ready to strike at any moment.

he’s like you, you realize. cut from the same cloth. a predator in a world full of prey. but unlike your usual targets, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show any sign of fear or hesitation. if anything, he seems... curious.

you smile, a slow, sly grin as you step closer, deliberately drawing his attention. “fancy seeing someone like you here,” you say, your voice light, almost teasing. “i thought i had this place to myself.”

he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move. those dark eyes behind the mask stay locked on you, watching, waiting. the silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating, but you don’t let it get to you. you’ve dealt with the strong, silent type before. you know how to break them.

“let me guess,” you continue, circling him slowly, “you’re one of those types who thinks brooding in the dark makes them mysterious. but me? i prefer a little conversation before things get... messy.”

still nothing. his silence is almost unnerving, but you push through, trying to get a read on him. there’s something about him, something that tells you he’s not just another killer. he’s more than that, something darker, something dangerous. and it makes your blood sing.

you inch closer, testing the waters. “tell me,” you whisper, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? looking for someone, maybe? or are you just here to watch?”

and that’s when you feel it—the cold press of steel against your throat. the knife is sudden, swift, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. instead, you grin, a slow, wicked curve of your lips as you stare up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance. you’ve met killers before, but this one... this one is different. this one is like you.

his voice is a low, gravelly growl when he finally speaks, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “you talk too much.”

you don’t falter, meeting his gaze with a smirk that’s all teeth. “and you don’t talk enough.”

for a long, tense moment, neither of you moves. the knife stays where it is, a silent threat, while your heart pounds in your chest. but fear isn’t what you feel—no, it’s something far more dangerous, far more intoxicating. the thrill of a worthy opponent, of someone who won’t break so easily.

slowly, deliberately, he lowers the knife, but his hand doesn’t leave your skin. instead, he tilts your chin up, forcing you to hold his gaze, as if daring you to make the next move. the tension between you crackles, electric and suffocating, and you know, without a doubt, that this isn’t over. not by a long shot.

you’ve finally met your match. and you can’t wait to see who wins.

[jojo-schmo]

hi jojo! im just wondering but ive been wanting to make a comic for a little while but im not too sure where to start 😅. i really love your style of art and your forgotten land roleswap, and i was wondering if you had any tips for beginners?

Hello, hello! Thank you for enjoying my Forgotten Land Roleswap comic, it means a lot! <3

I'm very honored that people have been asking me for tips and advice. All of this is coming from a hobbyist who draws these comics purely for fun outside of my regular day job. Some of my methods would probably deal psychic damage to a professional, LOL. But I'm more than happy to share some things I've personally learned! :)

First of all, the book, "Understanding Comics" by Scott McCloud ROCKS. It literally gave me a new dimension to understand the medium of comics and how it presents ideas and emotions to readers! And I haven't even had the chance to finish it all the way! I'm very happy I own a copy and I recommend having one of your own if you can, but it's archived here if you want to read it :D

I also like analyzing other comics and thinking about how they get information across to me as a reader. It's helped me learn more effective ways to visually tell a story, like what to include in a frame, how zooming in or out affects the feeling from the panel, maybe building a scene by focusing on other stuff if someone is talking a lot... etc.

ANYWAYS-! Some other tips I've learned through my personal experience-

I had to overcome a lot of negative self-talk in order to tackle a huge comic project like this and stay committed. I was a pretty severe self-deprecator for most of my life so far, and getting help has allowed me to catch myself when I'm slipping back into those habits, look in the mirror, and go, "NO, JOJO! You pour your heart into what you make and that is a wonderful thing! You are appreciated and loved and you deserve to have fun making something you are passionate about!!" Some examples of the negative self-talk I catch myself in....

"I'm a noob at writing and making a story interesting... What's the point of even trying?"

When it comes to starting a project, whether it's 2 pages or 2000 pages, is to just jump in and start! It's okay to be a little insecure or nervous about your technical art skills, writing skills, etc... But writing a "bad" scene is better than no scene- because you can always edit a "bad" scene down the line, but what can you do with nothing? Nothing!! I also put "bad" in quotation marks because I am trying to use that term less, and instead call them "early drafts." or "works in progress."

The first Roleswap scene I fleshed-out was the first Bandee boss fight, in May 2022. I made this drawing on an impulse, getting my ideas down on the page without thinking about the technical stuff like comic panel borders. I consider it like a "pilot episode" almost, haha. The final project is going to be very different from how things play out here. But it got me interested in the concept and excited to see where I could take it, and I made the decision to commit to an entire game plot's worth of AU comics!!

Also, what's the point in trying you ask? The point is to have fun! Making a fan comic in my free time means I don't have restrictions like deadlines, nobody's telling me what I can and can't write, and I can make the story as long or as short as I want! I have full control, which means the world I'm writing is all mine to create! Yes, with a fan comic there is a pre-established world with existing characters. But a universe like Kirby has enough open-ended concepts for people to take basic concepts in the world and take them to whole new levels! I think that's why there are so many amazing fan interpretations of Kirby characters and OCs. The rules are so vague, you can just make up your own a lot of the time!! And it's a wonderful exercise to learn skills for someday building an original world with all original characters from scratch! Magical!!!

"I'm not good enough to make a comic. I don't understand perspective or color and other stuff. Anything I make will look bad.

I once read a two panel comic on here. I can't find it anymore but I remember most of it. First panel showed the artist looking at what they're drawing on their tablet, looking defeated and sad. "Man, I don't even know how to draw this....."The next panel was like them smiling and shrugging, I think rainbows and sparkles were coming out of their tablet, ".....I GUESS I'LL JUST HAVE TO DRAW IT SHITTY!! :D "

IF ANYONE KNOWS THIS COMIC I'M REFERENCING, PLEASE TELL ME AND I'LL LINK IT!!! Because it permanently and positively changed my brain chemistry.

No kidding, making the decision to just do my best even if it's not perfect, helped me a LOT. I was always waiting to "reach a certain level" to tackle a huge project because I felt like I'd never do it justice at my current state. Except I had been telling myself that kind of stuff for years and I still didn't start any projects!!

So the day I said, "Oh well! If I draw backgrounds shitty, then it is what it is! I'll learn from it and draw the next background a little better," Was the day I could commit fully to the project. I'll keep studying how to draw them better for my own benefit, but I won't let my skill issues stop me from even trying!

And for my limited confidence in full-color art, I solved that by making the comic in black and white with no-to-minimal shading lolol. Because I can only address one skill issue at a time before it takes me 25 years to finish this HAHAHA.

It saves a BUNCH of time to work with skill issues rather than against them! Because at least experience is gained in other ways, and who knows, maybe that new knowledge will help address the skill issues someday! So identifying your personal skill issues and deciding which one to try to grow stronger, and which one to work around, could help with big projects!

"Nobody will read this. I'm going to put months or years of my life into a dumb little thing nobody will even care about."

Learning how to draw for my own enjoyment instead of somebody else's was one of the biggest breakthroughs I ever made. Enjoying the feeling of being challenged artistically and just doing my best, even if it's not technically perfect, is the reason why I was even able to start this!

And just because someone doesn't directly like, comment or whatever on a post doesn't mean nobody saw it! I used to get really down on myself for the lack of engagement on my art on other websites.

I was a lurker for pretty much my entire teenage years and never posted my own stuff or commented much. But that didn't take away the fact that I really enjoyed the things I saw online. Those positive feelings were real to me, even when I didn't know how to articulate it in words. Granted, I grew up into a Words of Affirmation main, and I use words to tell people the positive things I think about them as much as I can! But I know not everyone prefers words to express themselves. So I think about the people that I don't know enjoy my work- that just because I don't see it doesn't mean I didn't make a positive impact on someone by sharing my stories.

THIS IS GETTING LONG-- UHHH, STORY TIPS!!

If you work best on technology, start building the story in a Notes app, or a Google Doc! If you work best with pen and paper, start a notebook and rearrange stuff as you need to!

Or if you're chaotic like me, a mix of tech and paper!! I bought a notebook with ring binding so I can remove and rearrange pages of drafts as much as I wanted to! Like here's two very rough concept pages of one Chapter 1 scene made months apart.

I'd say planning out the biggest basic plot points and then filling in between as I went was most helpful! I also have separate notes for character motivations, important story-changing events, etc... So I can have my own reference when I'm writing new scenes!

Okay this was a lot, sorry about the yapping! Hopefully it helps even a tiny bit. If you have any specific questions I'm happy to talk about my experience in the creation process! Or elaborate on anything I said above.

And finally, because I'm not a professional there are probably plenty of other tactics that could work better for some people. My ADHD probably doesn't help with the chaos of my process either, HAHA. But thank you for reading this far and enjoying the peek into the rainbow glitter and soap bubbles that inhabit the right side of my brain, heehee.

[sweetdreamspootypie]

hey, saw your tags on my iStop notice and had to say something. if you're a nurse you really gotta take the can't leave port accessed thing super seriously. I think it may apply to all IVs but I have a port so that's what I know.

I don't think I was explicit about it: the reason it is so highly illegal has nothing to do with infection. it is specifically to prevent people from having IV access for illegal drug use.

so imagine how I feel about the port being left in now that I know what they think I wanted from the hospital.

@kelpforestdwellers

(idk how tumblr does notifications for asks so figured I'd tag you)

Yeah that makes sense as the reasoning

But still

Plenty of people have central lines out in the community - people on chemo, long term antibiotics, dyalisis, gastroparesis patients who are TPN / IV hydration / IV antiemetic dependant. And those are just the ones I have met going through y particular ward which is general medical, not specialized.

I know you have been / are going through a very long and frustrating process around getting it added to your official care plan and being properly facilitated to access your port at home.

But I have assumed that's just bureaucratic paperwork nonsense about like. Which doctor wants to put their signature to it that they've done due diligence about risk management with you. And stuff about who's job it was to organise it for you.

As opposed to being issues with just having an accessed port at home itself.

It is obviously a huge fuckup to have an /accidentally/ accessed port - but that's still to my mind mostly about infection control.

If they did actually think you were at risk of unsafe IV drug use then yes that is also a major beach of duty of care.

I just had a quick scroll through your blog and you haven't said anything about the process of discharge besides the fact that there was back and forth about when it would be. So tbh I'm confused how you also didn't know it was still accessed, as it's a whole process to de-access it unless you were expecting procedures to be done while you are unconscious. But there was so much other things you were chasing for a safe discharge that I guess it just got forgotten for you.

It sounds like that ward were not confident with the port - you mentioned them getting snotty about doing a blood draw - which is wild to me, because central lines are amazing for that. It's so easy to do a blood draw, we love it. Especially ports! Way easier than PICCs. The only issue is that a phlebotomist will not do patients with central lines, so the nurse has to do it. So it's not a 'patient refused' it's a 'not done on pleb round - awaiting nurse to do it's

So the fact that that happened implies a high percentage of nurses there aren't familiar with central lines, which almost certainly contributed to it not being on their mental checklist for when you left.

Which is a silly situation but also kinda familiar. One of our gastroparesis patients has a standing plan that if she ever needs to go to hospital, she will access her port herself and draw her own blood samples at home before she goes, because it's not worth dealing with ER staff where nobody is confident to initially access a port.

Anyway yeah

I can see the reasoning about it being bad to have an unplanned IV access for drug abuse concerns

But I still would absolutely not blink an eye about a patient coming in from home or going home with central line access. But it should be part of a clearly documented plan for discharge.

I'm in aotearoa though, so different laws obviously. If there is something similar here, I wonder if it's one of those things where they tell you as part of putting the port in in the first place, but. For anyone else it's not relevent.

I hope things start moving for you for being able to access it safely at home.

[txtssera]

don’t jump me bc i know some of yall like to tussle BUT so much of the calypso hate feels very misogynistic and just bc she did/said smth to your fav male character (whether it be leo or percy). I 10000% don’t like caleo either but that’s not really what i’m referring to. just bc she was freed from the island doesn’t mean she’s gonna unlearn falling in love with almost everyone she meets and especially someone who saves her from the island??? she’s been deprived of human connection for like 3,000 years of course she’s not gonna be a great romantic partner to any character right after returning to civilization. they both deserved someone better than each other personally. also the cursing annabeth in tartarus? i very much doubt she did it with the intention that annabeth would ever actually experience it / be in a battle against arais where she would feel the curse. not that annabeth deserved it bc she didn’t but calypso thought she was forgotten about again, left alone to her own devices and fears yet again, i would have cursed them too. but hey i guess understanding character’s complexities and having sympathy is only reserved for the male characters. also there are so many worse immortal characters in this series but a titans daughter having the bitterness and pettiness a human would irl if they had been forgotten about is where some of you draw the line? also i think it’s interesting how some people are so vehemently against caleo (understandably) but will also ship other demigods with gods…

im not saying that all calypso hate is invalid or that everyone who doesn’t like her is a misogynist etc etc, im sure there are smaller details i might be looking over / might not know ( i haven’t read toa ), but calling her a bitch over her birthday message for percy and saying she deserved to stay on that island Is Crazy, like some of you guys need to listen to yourselves speak.

(sorry i saw a twitter post and got annoyed and ive seen similar hate on tiktok too so i needed to rant)

[hb-writes]

The Doctor's Orders

Summary: Emma has been pushing herself too hard between her college courses and work at SIP. When she suddenly faints at the office, she's taken to the hospital. As the truth behind her fainting comes out and the repercussions start to feel overwhelming, Em finds allies in her sister-in-law and her favorite nurse.

Characters: Christian Grey, Ana Grey, and Emmeline Grey (sister!OC)

Request: Can i please request where Emma got into an accident and Christian is there with Ana. (note: I've already written about Emma getting into an accident in Replacable, so I changed this up a bit).

Warnings: adderall misuse.

Fifty Shades Masterlist

--

When Emma finally woke, it was to a quiet room, the silence only interrupted by the steady beep of a monitor to her left. The lights were off, the shades drawn, and her sister-in-law was seated in a chair pulled up close to her bedside, a blanket draped over her while she slept.

Emma’s mind was foggy as it held fast to the remaining wisps of sleep, and a list of questions began to pile up in her mind though her sore throat and slow-forming thoughts wouldn’t allow her to voice any of them. 

Why…was she at the…hospital?

Why was Ana here? 

And why was Ana wearing yesterday’s clothes?

Why—

Emma’s internal monologue paused as the door creaked open, her eyes drawn to the far side of the room. 

Christian looked like he hadn’t slept, his face pale and his eyes tired…his usually pristine suit rumpled beyond recognition.

“You’re awake,” he said quietly, his eyes darting to his pregnant wife for a brief moment before shifting back to his sister. 

“How…” Emma croaked, gently clearing her throat. “How long was I…?” The question drifted away as a distinct itchiness in her arm brought her awareness to the IV anchored there. 

“Leave it,” Christian warned, Emma’s subtle glare shooting toward him as he finished the directive, the needle in her arm temporarily forgotten. 

“And you’ve been out for seventeen hours,” Christian continued, answering her earlier question.

Emma nodded as though that cleared things up, as if it even helped her to determine what time it was now, but her brain couldn’t do the mental math even if she’d wanted to. She once again cleared her throat, and Christian reached for the small cup of water on the bedside table, holding it out so Emma could sip from the straw. 

“Why am I…What happened?” she asked, her voice quiet and hoarse as she formed the words. 

“You don’t remember?”

They held each other’s gaze for just a moment before Ana shifted in her chair, drawing Emma and Christian’s attention as Ana stared back at them, her sleepy gaze taking an extra moment to realize what she was seeing.

“You’re awake! Thank god,” she said, ungracefully pulling herself out of the chair so she could lean over the edge of the hospital bed and wrap Emma in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Ana started to pull away, her hands on Emma’s shoulders as she stared into her eyes. “Don’t ever do that to me again!” 

Emma swallowed, trying to remember exactly what it was she had done, but she didn’t know, almost like there was a wall up to keep that particular knowledge separate…

“You don’t remember a thing do you?” Christian’s sharp tone pulled her gaze back to the other side of the bed.

“You passed out and hit your head in the middle of a conversation. Ana had to call an ambulance.” 

She remembered being at the office. She remembered Ana telling her to stop what she was working on and head home despite the fact that she was behind on her to do list and they were on a deadline, but Emma had no memory of fainting. No memory of any of it. 

Christian leaned over to grab the chart off the end of the bed. “Sleep deprivation. Dehydration,” he listed off before flipping to the next page. “That’s what he’s diagnosed, but the doctor says your bloodwork suggests you’ve been taking something—an amphetamine of some variety.” 

Emma tensed, and it was enough that Christian clocked it, his voice immediately rising in volume and sharpness as he dropped the chart on the end of her bed. 

“Christ, Emma. What the hell were you—”

“Christian!” Ana hissed. “Do not yell at her.”

His nostrils flared as he shifted his gaze to his wife. “You think I’m yelling? Just wait until our mother hears about it.” 

Emma gulped. Christian was right. He was pissed, but she would rather endure his lecture than their mother’s, assuming that the woman didn’t go straight for some other method of dealing with it instead. Like locking her up forever and never again allowing her to see the light of day, no heed spared to the fact that she was 18 now and no longer legally in her care.

“And clearly she needs to be yelled at!”

Emma cringed away from the tone. She knew it was a mistake, taking the adderall pills that her friend Izzy had offered. It was a big mistake, an idiot move. She knew that, but they had helped Emma get through finals while working at the same time, and she had thought she had it under control.

She had been careful about it, limiting herself even as she had come to rely on the pills to get by during the last few weeks. Somewhere along the line, she had started to feel like she needed them—to study throughout the night and stay awake in classes and at work. And it had all been working out fine. She had set limits on how much she took. She didn’t allow herself to go beyond the limit, and with the small dosage she allowed herself, she had been so focused and productive. She had barely needed to pause to sleep or eat.

“Taking drugs, Emma? Of all the idiotic things you could do…I am so—”

Ana shouted her husband's name to cut him off, but Emma was certain her brother had intended to voice his disappointment, as if it wasn’t already inherently clear from the way he was acting that he was appalled with her choices. Emma felt a certain shame wash over her even though the words were left unsaid.

“She needs to hear this.” 

“Maybe,” Ana answered, once again pulling her unwieldy body from the chair to square up against her husband with Emma and the hospital bed between them “But it doesn’t need to happen here and it doesn't need to happen now. Your sister needs rest. That is what the doctor said was most important.” 

“I don’t care what he said. She—”

Christian shut his mouth, heaving a few irritated, silent breaths as Ana pressed the nurse call button, bringing a familiar face—Emma’s favorite nurse—through the door. 

“Ah, sleeping beauty finally wakes from her slumber,” Sarah said as she moved to the bedside and began checking over Emma’s vitals. “I’ll notify the doctor and give you two a few minutes to clear out. Do try to keep the noise to a minimum as you go, Mr. Grey. The girls out front were debating calling security just now…” Sarah spared a glance at Christian, her gaze chastising him alone even though Ana’s outbursts had been as loud, maybe louder. “Lucky I was out there to convince them otherwise.”

Sarah was an emergency room nurse, and she had worked alongside Emma's mother for years. The woman had gotten herself reassigned upstairs to monitor Emma the second she had heard the Greys were in the building.

“We’ll keep it down,” Christian answered with a nod that was something close to gratitude, even though the way Sarah had said Mr. Grey had been mockingly deferential.

“Good,” Sarah answered with a nod as she moved to the end of the bed to record something in Emma’s chart. “There’s a waiting room at the end of the hall, and you know where the cafeteria is. Assuming Miss Emma wants visitors after speaking with the doctor, you’ll be—”

Christian laughed, glancing up from his phone. “I’ll be staying right here to meet with my sister’s doctor, and our mother will be on speaker phone.” 

Sarah glanced at the monitor beside Emma’s bed. She noted the sudden spike in the girl’s vitals, but didn't comment on it, instead focusing her energy on Christian. Sarah folded her arms delicately over her chest as she snorted.

“Christian, come on. I’m hungry anyway,” Ana started as she once again began the difficult work of pulling her very pregnant body from the chair, but it was too late, the tension in the room too high to be alleviated so easily.

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, Mr. Grey. Your sister is an adult, and now that she is awake, she can decide who she wants in this room. She’s entitled to privacy. She is entitled to decide who hears about her medical care and who doesn’t. It’s not up to you. It’s not up to me. And it’s not up to your mother. And so help me god, if you keep riling the girl up when she is supposed to be resting, she won’t be the only Grey tucked in a hospital bed.” 

The room was still, tension still humming in the air that had even Christian remaining quiet as Sarah’s words hung between the four of them. 

“Now, is that clear or—”

“It’s clear,” Ana answered before Christian could offer a retort.

Sarah nodded once to Ana before turning to Emma. “Now, Miss Emma, do you want them here or no?”

Emma didn’t like being put on the spot like that and she swallowed thickly rather than answering straight away, a long enough pause that Ana crossed the room, intending to meet Christian and guide him to the door. 

“Emmeline,” Christian prompted, pulling her gaze as they all waited for her answer. He had something more to say, but he never got to it as the phone in his hand started ringing, their mother’s face suddenly inhabiting the screen as the incoming call came in. 

“Ana,” Emma sputtered out. “Just Ana can stay.” 

“Alright,” Sarah nodded before glancing to Christian. “You heard her. Ana stays. You and the phone can take a walk…unless you’d rather walk out with security?” 

Emma watched Christian debate his options as his mother called again, her first call having gone to voicemail. He could make a fuss and get his way if he wanted. Emma knew that, but rather than answering Sarah, Christian turned to his sister. 

“We’ll talk about this later,” he offered. Christian stepped to Ana’s side and kissed her before he slipped through the door, pulling the phone to his ear as he went. 

Emma rubbed her hands over her face, heaving a huge breath as the door closed behind him. She knew it would probably be worse because she had put her mother and brother off, but Emma knew she couldn’t deal with their judgment just yet. She had a few well-deserved lectures waiting for her, but Emma felt bad enough on her own for now. And she was exhausted, eager to drift back away into sleep even as Sarah slipped through the door to go fetch the doctor.

Emma knew she was owed lectures, and she also knew she owed a few apologies, but none more so than to Ana, who’d been the one there when it happened and the one to deal with what Emma assumed was a terrifying aftermath.

Emma knew it had scared her sister-in-law. Scared her enough that she had insisted on staying over at the hospital and sleeping in that uncomfortable chair when she should have been home. Ana was 8 months pregnant. She didn’t need this stress, and yet, she had been worrying over Emma for weeks now, insisting that Emma take a break, noting that something seemed off. But she had held back from involving Christian because Emma had insisted she was perfectly fine. Emma had promised Ana that there was nothing to be concerned about. 

Emma had been convinced it wasn’t a lie. She had been convinced that she was fine, but seeing it from this side, that’s all she’d been doing. Lying to Ana. Lying to herself. 

Emma watched as Ana eased back into the chair, rubbing at the back of her neck before she settled and pulled out her phone as it dinged.

“Ana?” Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper as she waited for Ana to finish sending a text. “I’m really sorry. I—”

Ana shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine. I just sent him a list of snacks to bring back for us. It’ll give him some time to cool off and anyway, I really am hungry.” 

Emma forced half a smile. “No, I mean, I’m sorry about that, but I’m really sorry…I’m an idiot and—”

“No,” Ana interrupted, reaching out for Emma’s hand. “We’re not doing that. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing to focus on is getting you better and making sure it doesn’t happen again. You need a break from school, from work, from…well, everything.” 

“But—”

“No buts,” Ana answered, her free hand drifting down to rest on her belly. “You can come stay with me at the lake house. Nothing to worry about but relaxing and helping me get things ready for your nephew.”

Emma sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be real relaxing with Christian lecturing—”

“You leave your brother to me,” Ana answered with a smile. “As far as he’ll know, lecturing will be strictly against the doctor's orders.” 

Emma snorted. She didn’t believe her brother—or her mother, for that matter—would let a doctor stop them from saying their piece, but she allowed her sister-in-law’s assertions to bring her a bit of calm, even though a part of her was having trouble believing that she even deserved it.

Fifty Shades Masterlist

[crushedgraham]

Fic where Widowmaker’s girlfriend secretly learns a love song in French for her because she’s shy and bad at expressing her feelings 🫶?

Suns and Stars

FICS ARE COMINGGG ive been busy with projects and tests BUT IM GONNA LOCK IN FOR KINKTOBER REQUESTS but enjoy this fluff :)

It's been 6 months. 6 damn months in you and Amélie's relationship and you still hadn't said the three big words: I love you. You've tried. But every time you get even remotely close, the words die on your tongue. God, you can't even kiss her without your body temperature skyrocketing - so how the hell were you supposed to express how much you loved her?

Everyday at exactly 8 AM, Amélie does her morning stretches, yoga and cardio sessions. You've been using this to your advantage - sneaking out of bed a few minutes after her to practice your French in an abandoned music room on the far side of the castle, then slipping back in before she comes back to take a shower. This morning followed the routine.

Soft padding from your fluffy slippers shuffling against the tile floor echoes against the stone walls, the sounds barely registering in your groggy mind. Your eye lids still felt heavy from sleep - a soft huff of a yawn escaping from your lips. The room is spacious yet empty, forgotten pieces of furniture scattered amongst the dust but a grand piano remaining in the middle. Faintly you can just barely make out on the body of the piano, a neatly carved heart with the cheesy "A+G" initials in the center - a testament of the history now long gone.

The squeak from the rusty hinges of the fallboard causes you to cringe while lowering yourself to the cold leather bench. From your pocket, you unfold the sheet music to "Je l'aime à mourir", small notes and lines scribbled across the paper. By now you know the song by heart but every time you hear even the slightest noise you lose concentration and forget the notes.

In a practiced motion, your fingers draw towards the correct keys. Time seems to stop with everything in your mind fading with it except for one name: Amélie.

The lyrics begin as a soft hum, gradually increasing with the piano in crescendo. Melodies flutter throughout the room, carrying the harmonies deep into the rest of the castle - unbeknownst to you.

A pair of golden eyes stare at the back of your head, a far off look present in the irises. The overwhelming rush of emotions is almost painful, her heart defying the countless hours spent to repress any and all traces of soul left in the shell of the French woman. Distantly Amélie can feel the mourning, the grief, the utter anguish squeezing at her heart. Memories of her past life - the life that she could never have - glimmers like twinkling stars; Thousands of miles away yet shining ever so brightly.

But bittersweetly, the only happy ending she can envision is a life with you. Gerard may have been her stars but you are her sun. The warmth and light of her life - the very reason for her existence.

"Je l'aime à mourir" (I love her to death)

The French rolls off your tongue perfectly and raw, unadulterated love floods through her veins. Amélie believes that no experiment or torture can take this feeling away.

As the final note fades out, you nearly jump out of your skin as cool air brushes against your ear.

"You play beautifully Chérie, such a talented girl," Amélie's voice lacks the usual teasing undertone, sounding unusually vulnerable. You move to turn your body but her strength outmatches yours. Her forehead rests against your shoulder, a worrying dampness sinking into the fabric down to your skin. Instinctively your hands reach behind you to stroke her purple tresses, a small attempt at comforting your lover.

"Do you mean it?" Amélie's voice is hushed and muffled against your body, quivering ever so slightly.

The question makes you hesitate but not because of your love for her. No, you knew with every atom in your body that you loved Amélie - but saying it out loud had your body tensing. Though your silence sends the wrong message. Amélie begins pulling away from you, off put and disappointed by the lack of a response.

"Je t'aime! I- I love you so much." The words stumble out clumsily in one breath - desperately trying to make up for your silence.

Amélie pauses and you swing your legs over the bench to face her. She leans closer, her eyebrows pushed together - traces of fear and vulnerability lingering in her orbs.

"Truly?" Right now, she was just Amélie, not Widowmaker, not the emotionless assassin - right now she's just your Amélie.

"Yes! God - I'm so stupid. I should've told you sooner but I just couldn't get it out! I...I really do love you though, Amé"

In a flash, her lips surge to capture yours. The force slams your back into the keys creating an ugly shrill, piercing sound, akin to a noise in a horror movie. But you pay no attention to it, hell, you don't even notice it when Amélie's lips are devouring yours. The kiss is bruising and your chest burns from the lack of air but it didn't matter, no only Amélie mattered right now.

Sharp, black nails dig into your soft robe, pulling your body impossibly closer. Her lips trail up to your ear, a fanged canine catching the lobe as she whispers:

"You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that Mon Amour, je t'aime aussi"

Je l'aime à mourir - I love her to death

Chérie - Darling

Mon Amour - My love

Je t'aime - I love you

Je t'aime aussi - I love you too

[purple-blep]

I need to draw her more again, feels like ive almost forgotten how to draw her

[violethowler]

After my last re-read of Iron Gold, I felt that what dragged down the pacing of the novel was how disconnected from everything Lysander’s chapters felt. His chapters didn’t have any tangible impacts on the others the way that Darrow, Lyria, and Ephraim’s did. But while re-reading Light Bringer and how Atlas and Atalantia used The Syndicate to draw the Rim into the war, I realized that the moment in Romulus’s trial where Dido name-dropped the Ophion Guild as the source of the footage of Darrow destroying the Ganymede Docks was supposed to be the big “oh shit” moment where it dawns on the reader that Lysander’s story was connected to the others all along and that the Syndicate was trying to get the Rim involved in the war on top of meddling with the Republic.

But that reveal went over people’s heads because the only frame of reference the reader has for the guild at that point is a single, easily forgotten throwaway line about Ephraim’s broker being an intermediary between the Guild and the Syndicate almost thirty chapters ago. And then we don’t even learn about the nature of the Guild and the Syndicate’s relationship until four chapters after what should’ve been our big, dramatic “oh fuck” moment.

What I think would’ve helped the flow and pacing of Iron Gold better is if they had structured the book into four parts like all the others instead of compressing everything into three.

Then we could have something like this:

Part I would basically be everything in the published Part I except for Lysander’s chapters, because my timeline notes place his chapters several weeks later while the other three POVs are happening near-simultaneously with each other, and make repeated references to the events happening in other chapters. (In other words, chapters 1-7, 10-14, 16-19, and 21)

Part II would open with Lysander’s rescue of Seraphina and capture by the Rim to set up the tension for what he’ll find when he gets to Jupiter, and then we’d cut between Lyria, Ephraim, and Darrow’s canon chapters for Part II up through Chapter 31. (So chapters 8-9, 15, 20, 23-24, and 27-31)

Part III would open on chapter 34 when Darrow finds Rhonna on board the Nessus and makes his agreement with Apollonius. Then we’d cut back and forth between Lysander’s chapters from his arrival on Io up through the chapter where Bellerphone declares a blood feud against Cassius, and the heist at Quicksilver’s party in Lyria and Ephraim’s chapters up through her escape in chapter 43. (Canon chapters 22, 25-26, 33-39, 42-43)

And then Part IV would go from chapter 44 to the end of the book, plus chapters 40-41 for the start of Cassius’s duels with House Raa. For maximum tension and dramatic impact, I would structure the chapters so that the chapter where Dido explains how she acquired the footage would come after Ephraim tells Virginia that the Ophion Guild is in the Syndicate’s pocket. (Chapters 40-41, 44-65)

I feel like that would do a much better job tying Lysander’s chapters into the rest of the book and making us feel like his plotline is connected to the others despite the physical distance.

[flowercrowns-n-punks]

btw lark & sparrow as a little mushroom fellas btw. what is ur take

(u don't have to draw anything if you don't feel up to it :3)

NOW YOU ASK ABOUT THE FAMILY I AM SO OH SO WAY TO TALKING ABOUT???? [My irl friend tek has to deal with at least almost 4-6 times every day at this point i swearfrom how much i talk about the oaks]

Okay first off i do wanna do doodles ill reblog this with the doodles after or later in the day when ive gotten some sleep.[i need to consider my options here]

This will be long

But from what i think first off same mushroom type cause twins or two mushrooms that get mistaken for eachother easily.

I could easy n give them two very different mushrooms that fit them.

But no they are to codependant on eachother, their own paralells and oppsites are screaming i dont go the easy route here.

So the mushroom would need to be unexpecting but harmful if i were to give the same mushroom.

Which im leaning towards.

First idea

Fly agaric mushroom

The classic the pretty red & spotted mushroom. But like thats to classic, doesnt scream the twins to me.

Death cap mushrooms were the next option

small, green-tinted mushroom might look innocent enough, but it is actually the most toxic mushroom worldwide and is responsible for the highest number of fatal mushroom poisonings across the globe.

Seems beyter honestly if had went a different mushroom for each twin route Lark would been this.

BUT I FOUND THESE.

Funeral bell mushrooms or Galerina marginata!

Poisonous and deadly, these little mushrooms definitely live up to their ominous-sounding name. They grow on dead decaying wood or tree stumps.

And just idk why but the symbolism of funerals to me with the twins as if they had a funeral to the boys they were before the forgetten realms, a funeral to the kids that they were msde into because of the forgotten realms.

The funeral of time turning its next chapter on "reconciling" with henry when lark released tge doodler. So on so forth!

To now what they are now these mess of adults/parental figures broken and mournimg so much by the actions they both took.

And just from A art stand point

It fits nicely with their color schemes too-

But like Funeral Bell Mushrooms. Are what id def be doodling the twins as lil mushroom fellas

[ybetzarts]

random question, what draws you to knuckles as a character? do you have a favourite version of him?

Okok...bear with me, I have to start from the beginning..

I first encountered Knuckles during the time when he was mostly portrayed as, as they described him, a character merely for comedic relief. I watched the boom series back in 2015 and so my first impression of him was that he was an all-brawn-no-brain kinda guy. I found him funny, i guess...i had no clue back then. To explain why i didnt bother to do any research, here are some screenshots of my response on IG...(see below the break)

I was a shallow "fan". I find the sonic casts' design interesting and fun to look at. At that time, that was enough...

1. What drew me into Knuckles then?

I'll get into that, but first...The 2nd movie...The only reason i gave Sonic(by Sonic i meant the whole franchise) a chance was because i saw how Knuckles was portrayed in the 2nd Sonic movie. Very different from what i knew of him at that time.

I began researching about him, after watching the movies. There was something. Yea, i was on an info hunt of just about the guy for months! Along the way tho, i also discovered a ton of things about Sonic, the cast, etc. BUT, i was mostly so eager to know about Knuckles. Then man! There was so much to know about the guy...He wasnt just that all-brawn-no-brain type of guy. Those character analysis videos of Knuckles explained a lot of things about him. He's the most interesting of the cast(for me)---his personality(Most of all), his backstory, his sacred duty, being the last of the echidnas, angel island as his home, what's left of his kind(relics, tech, architecture, art, etc.), so much to unpack...and YET there were almost nothing said about them??? The mysteries about the guy continues. Lots of angles to look into his character.

Hmm... I also realized that there were many ways to interpret(?) Knuckles. The tons of fanfiction you can make about the guy, tons of ways to do headcanons about him---one can look at him through his duty as a guardian, through him being a warrior, through his ancestors--and then recently in Frontiers--through the hidden and long lost and forgotten structures within angel island, also, through the M.E. and through the power that resides in the M.E. Am I making sense even???

[I should say that i liked a lot of these things first, before i even liked Knuckles for his design LOL (gawsh, those times when i struggled drawing the dude. I was so eager to learn how to draw him. Usually i would have given up, but surprisingly i didnt), and the "why did he have to be RED" XDD I didnt like red, until Knuckles...] His personality drew me in at first, then came all of these things...

About his personality/character...I can really relate to that. I also happen to like characters who are tough on the outside and are good (not exactly gentle) in the inside LOL. Knuckles looks so tough, immovable as a mountain, but deep down, he's carrying a lot. Rarely or almost never opening up. I can only imagine him as he got older, him thinking like

"No one will be left to take care of the island after I'm gone anyway...so why should i even bother? I could be doing something else, I could be anywhere, I could make use of what time ive been given, of what time i have left."

*proceeds to chuck them thoughts away* Then just like that, back to guarding duty again, still feeling loyal and determined to fulfill his role, and to who knows until when...

For that, Knuckles is the only fictional character that ive come to genuinely like and become interested in. So much so that i got out of my demotivated-uninspired-artist-prison and began drawing again, and for the fun of it!🌟��

2. As for my favorite version of him?

My gosh! um, currently Renegade, I suppose??? Man, this is hard gah! Theres always something to like about every version of Knuckles. The Knuckles version in my head, the one i created after consuming a ton of Knuckles info, yea i also like that version LOL XDD🌟

[skulkingfoxes]

hi, i bought your comic "twigs" and loved it, i was wondering if you had any willingness to share the process of making it?

im an artist whos trying to start doing comics but i find the idea of starting a larger scale comic (such as kingfisher) wildly intimidating in terms of art direction. im trying to start small, such as a 30 page comic (ive done 5-10 page comics before) but i still find the art direction so scary lol

(Oh god this sent is was much longer ago than I thought I'm so sorry I took so long)

First off, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked Twigs, it's a project that still holds special place in my heart.

Okay, SO- the Twigs you know today was made originally for Shortbox, a digital comic fair for debuting short comics.

The concept of what would become Twigs was one developing in my brain for a while. Or, rather, the concept of a changeling trying to figure out where they belong after the person they were meant to replace comes home. At that point though, the changeling was just a cute fairy boy, because who wouldn’t want that. It was playing with the idea of choosing your own family and where you belong. But it was only a vague half idea, I didn’t really have a good sense of how long it could be or even what the point was. I remember musing that it was a story that I would probably never make. These are the only sketches I made for it.

It wasn’t till I remembered another variant of the changeling, one where the creature was just an enchanted bale of hay or twigs and thrown into the fire once they’re discovered. I wondered what it was like to realize that you are in fact completely disposable, destined to fall apart and be forgotten. I thought this was far too depressing of a concept and that I would never use it.

If you’ve read the story, then you know that I changed my mind. The idea just stuck around in my brain too much, it gave such a bittersweetness to the story. It was then the story began to come together. I ended up writing the whole first draft of the outline in a phone-tapping frenzy at 1 am. It's almost stream of conscious prose, where I write out how I imagine the scene going. I'm a very visual thinker.

You mostly asked this in terms of how I figured things out visually. Something that helped me out when I first started was making a pinterest board. It was very useful to put together a visual library to help gestate my ideas and vision for the story.

The inspiration of the witch was the folk tale character Baba Yaga, so that was a starting place for her and, since her home is an extension of her, figuring out the cottage. Down to earth, practical, with an agelessness to them. The Witch doesn't share her home with others so everything in it is suited to her. But it's also warm and cozy, since the cottage serves as a safe space for the characters to talk and rest. Getting reference photos helped a lot in imagining the home and making it feel lived-in.

You can also see me finding a couple of photos that helped my picture the character Tristan and his big feather cloak and other illustrations/photos reflect the world I wanted to create. A dark ancient setting with strangeness and sense of whimsy. Like a sad fairytale.

Don't be afraid to look at movies, books, paintings, etc when finding visual inspiration! For another project, a colored comic based in the Salem Witch trials, I was taking screenshots from the movie VVitch to copy the palette lol. Be a scavenger! Do studies! Take pieces of everything around you to make something unique!

After that, I admit, a lot of it was a lot of sketching, Drawing out ideas, figuring out vibes, I took a pen to cheap sketchbook and just brainstormed. This is how I often bang out design- just keep drawing them until it feels right. It feels a bit like carving away at clay to find the statue underneath. I like designing with a pen because it keeps me from getting too precious with the drawings. These sketches are meant for exploring, not for drawing anything nice yet.

(I know there was a lot more than this but I can't find those files now rip)

I also say- you don't have to figure everything out before you start drawing. It's great to get used to drawing your characters and maybe a blue layout of certain rooms, but it's not 100% needed.

I've seen comic artists obsess over perfecting character sheets and concept art and never actually starting the comic. I've never made a character sheet unless a job demanded I did.

I'm sure there is some pithy quote here I could use, but I find so much of comics to be improv based on what a scene needs lol. If the characters go to the other side of a room that I didn't design, I will probably just find a decent reference (thank you pinterest) sketch it out, and use that.

This really is a great representation of my process 80% of the time.

Whew that ended up being long lol. Sorry about that. But I hope it was helpful at all!

[lovinggreeniehours]

pen thread music flame and comet? (@snowpuffclovers)

i can finally essay about takaharaa :DDD yayyy

🖋️ pen: say a fact about your self insert, it can be absolutely anything! short or long winded!

(hehehe angst)

when takahara absorbed the magic from the forbidden door, he obtained inhuman powers, among a few other things. one of the 'other things' could be read as somewhat of a curse? because ever since absorbing that magic, people have started to forget him

people he knew well and were close with weren't quite affected, of course. but acquaintances would find that his face, name, and voice have blurred in their memory. if an old classmate hadn't talked to him in a few months, there's a good chance they're right on the cusp of forgetting him altogether

he and solomon made a talisman to give to people that's charmed to help them remember. and to ease takahara's nerves a little. it's hard to go through life everyday having to remind everyone who you are. especially as someone in diavolo's inner circle

but he supposes it helps a bit during investigations, that people do not remember his face. but it keeps him up at night sometimes, wondering if he'll wake up the next morning only to find that his entire family had forgotten him

🧵thread: what would your self insert wear in the source your f/o is from? it can be multiple outfits or just one!

ooooh takahara has a lot of outfits lmao. i have yet to make better refs though 😭 so ill take the time and ramble about it instead im so sorry about how long this is HDDJFFJ

in s1 and 2, takahara's casual outfit is his signature red hoodie, grey pants, red sneakers (very random but important design note: after lesson 6, he always keeps the hood up because he feels like it better protects his neck :) ) it's very unassuming and comfortable, as that's how he hoped to be perceived

god wait that is so strange to say lmao not to tangent but 🥹 wow character development 🥹🥹 "oh no! guy who used to try and fade into the background and avoid attention realizes that he likes attention and has been deprived of it his entire life! he begins to work on himself and become confident so he never has to hide anymore and- oh fuck he's been cursed to be forgotten by everyone" like wow okay 😭

i haven't thought about it much before (just a little hehe) but takahara's wardrobe changes actually kind of do reflect his character huh 🥺 yay. go me im so good at this

his rad uniform is very standard. as i said, bland and unassuming. the most customized thing in there his how he uses the red sash as a scarf (also to cover his neck). as time goes on, the scarf becomes a staple part of his design. and i like it a lot because it's still takahara signature color red (more vibrant than his hoodie though 👀), but unlike the hood, it doesn't quite hide his face. takahara in rad uniform is like. almost foreshadowing for how he feels at home in the devildom. how well he fits in there without even realizing

(extra: in s2, takahara very briefly has a white and blue outfit when he and lucifer visits takahara's family in the human world. it's meant to directly contrast his usual color palette AND emphasize the demeanor change/masking takahara does in his old life as a human compared to how he's grown to be like in the devildom

in s3, takahara's outfit is somewhat similar as s1, but he has a black shirt, red hoodie (it's a slightly brighter red and has a zipper left open this time), and a denim jacket. i don't think about s3 much but ive contemplated whether or not takahara should put down his hood this season

now s4 and onwards is the outfit i usually draw takahara in now :D which is the light brown trench coat, signature scarf, boots, and rad emblem! these are his work clothes essentially. since by this time, he's joined diavolo's inner circle 👍

EXTRA BONUS: his nightbringer outfit, which i do have a reference for hehe. takahara has like a million more outfits for different events, but these show up the most in the main story :)

bonus: do you have a weapon? if so, describe it or show it!

hmmmm i wouldn't call it takahara's weapon exactly, but he had a rapier during nightbringer. which plays a um. somewhat significant role, let's say 😁

🎵music: if you/your self insert had a theme song, what would it be?

THIIIIIIIS!!!! THIS ONEE!!!!!

hate me sometimes - stand atlantic is The takahara song and it has been his theme song since the moment i made him 🙏 amen. i will be talking for actual days if i was told to do lyric analysis about this song so that's all i will say

bonus: an extra song that fits your self insert and your f/o!

if you ask me to lyrically analyze easy to hate - waterparks i might actually kick your door and talk for a million years but just know. that this is THE ARIFER SONG. it is SO their song. and i adore it with my entire being

i viscerally remember when i was first writing up their story and making the playlist and being so stuck because i couldn't find a single song that fit them well enough. AND THEN THIS SONG JUST. RAN ME OVER 😭 all the lyrics about them source trust me

🔥flame: does self insert have an enemy? if so, who is it and why are they so hated? what was a particularly heated moment between you two?

my enemy is lucifer. i hate him because he exists and for a heated moment there was- (is shot)

um. serious answer idk 😔 like to be very frank takahara hasnt hated anyone more than lucifer HDSHHSG like seriously 😭 he's not. an emotional guy. there are people that annoy him or people that inconvenience him but they don't really matter to him i think. he just calls annoying people worms,,,

and like the question is so funny to me, you can't say HEATED MOMENT and ENEMY around takahara 😭 that's the fucking enemies to lovers guy 😭😭

☄️comet: what was a moment where your self insert really shined? this can be a badass moment, a moment where you felt important to the overall lore, or just a really cool and important moment!

takahara mattering to the plot? 😭 lmao since when /j

i think the first things that came to mind are all instances of takahara trying to protect his siblings (the grimoire incident in lesson 6, distracting lucifer so they can sneak up to the attic unnoticed, all the times he steps in front of them when he senses danger) 🤔 hm. yeah i genuinely find it hard to find a very specific moment where he "shines", as the question put it. it's just that a lot of his more important moments involve his relationships with others

the only moment i think he really has for himself is absorbing magic from the forbidden door but god that is so trauma heavy i don't know if im allowed to call that badass lmaoo 😭

maybe, i'll consider that bit in nightbringer when lucifer loses control in cocytus so takahara (no longer powerless) gets to magic fistfight him :) HDDHFSGH

[nessieart]

tooth&claw chapter 4

An: sorry this took so long. And it just ends. Ive been struggling so I just wanted to get this out there!

Pairing: Tony Stark x Shifter!Reader

Wc: 1.9k

Age of Ultron

Warning: Canon typical violence, language!, no y/n used. Nicknames: Poppy/Flowers

Catch up HERE

t&c masterlist

Previous

Divider by @firefly-graphics

He wasn't really sure what day it was. They all seemed to blur together after he got here. 

Here? Where was here, anyway?

The four-poster bed was nice. The canopy above his head fluttered in the wind a little.

Leon never was one for hot summer days in the south - had to be, with a humidity like this - but here he was. His neck hurt. That's the second thing he noticed, an ache that went through muscle and tendon - bone deep.

He shifted to move off the bed, swinging his legs over the side and planting his bare feet on the hardwood floor. Even the floor was warm. Did no one believe in air conditioning? At least there was a breeze, the french doors were open wide, and the wind was blowing the sheer curtains about like ghosts in the night.

Leon wasn't sure if it was sunrise or sunset, the sun not being visible where the doors faced the massive expanse of fields and trees.

He paced toward the open doors, a metal clanking drawing his focus behind him. There were metal chains connecting him to the floor. Leon's hand followed the heavy metal links up, up and stopped when he reached his neck. It wasn't silver, but it was a thick metal collar he was sure he couldn't break free of.

Leon could feel his heartbeat against his chest like it wanted to escape the confines of his ribcage. His breaths were quick and shallow. How did he get in this? Why couldn't he remember? What was he doing here? There was a heavy ache starting from his neck, and it pulsed through him with the staccato beating of his heart. It urged him to calm down.

How could he? The panic was all he could feel, his hands shaking. Leon bent down to the mooring point where the chain met the metal link on the floor. He had to get free. Had to find his sister.

Oh, Gods. He had to find you. There was another surge through his body. This was more persistent. It felt like a command to stop. Stop what you're doing or else.

Leon never was one for playing by the rules. He gave another hard yank at the chain on the floor, but it didn't budge.

The door to the room is flung open, Leon whirls around to face the intruder, painstakingly making his claws appear in defense. It's almost like his body is rebelling against him. Nothing feels the same.

Leon knows this man, though. He may not know how or why he's tied up, but he knows the man in the doorway.

The man tuts, a mocking show of sympathy on his handsome face, “now, now, puppy, what's with all'a th’fuss?” A sweet southern accent fills the room, and the man walks smoothly into the room like he's gliding on air. A gust of wind whips through the bedroom, carrying all thoughts of escape once the scent reaches Leon’s nose.

“Oh, mate,” a dreamy sigh leaves Leon's throat as he straightens back up, feet shuffling forward as he meets his mate halfway.

Leon remembers now being in the presence of his mate, which triggers the memories from the last few months. He inhales sharply at the intrusion of new memories he shouldn’t have forgotten.

“Well, there he is,” Deacon says proudly. Leon wants to ask why he's tied up or what happened to him, but Deacon speaks up before he gets the chance.

“Kept try’na hurt yourself, Peaches. Ah couldn't have that,” Deacon brings a hand to the side of Leon's face, thumb stroking lightly over his cheekbone. “Full moon is soon, and Ah think Ah’ve almost got it right this time.”

Leon's brows furrow, head tilting to the side, “got what right?” 

Deacon lifts his hand to the empty space in the room. The hand on Leon tightens a little, long claws digging into his skin to draw blood. Leon hisses at the action, pulling away when Deaon brings a bloody finger to his lips and licks them clean. 

There's a surge of energy in the air. It makes Leon's hair stand on end. Deacon snaps his fingers, and in the empty space, a body shimmers into existence. The skin is pale and sickly, emaciated, and sallow. The figure stands hunched over, and elbows pull in tight to his body and hands covering his face. The long boney fingers dig into his scalp. It doesn't seem like the creature is breathing, but there it stands. Almost translucent.

“What…?” Leon takes a step back, chain shuffling with him as he does. The creature across the room seems to perk up, hands falling away from his face and gleaming eyes zero in on Leon.

Leon feels sick. He bends over to dry heave and the chain all but chokes him. He can't breathe. He needs to get out. He needs to leave and never look back. Mate or no. He needs to find you and warn you. He needs to find you and tell you how sorry he is.

The creature looks over to Deacon, hollow eyes unblinking as it shuffles forward, feet dragging against the hardwood. Scarping. 

“M.. mm. Mas-tr. Massster,” the voice rasps, and it sounds so familiar. 

“Ah’ve been tryn’ for awhile, Peaches,” Deacon ignores the abomination slowly shuffling its way towards them. “Ah just cain’t seem t’get them right.” He shakes his head, stepping forward to meet the creature in the middle of the room.

It has fangs, Leon notices, long claws at the end of its boney pale fingers. Then the creature stumbles and falls to its knees, a coughing fit racking its body, and Leon thinks it won't last, and it might crumble right there.

“Cain’t get them to last longer than a few minutes,” he tuts.

“why does - why does it…”

“Look like you?” Deacon hums, brilliant blue eyes sparkle at Leon when he turns his head, “Ah make doppelgangers, o’course. Though they don't last long when Ah try with you.” Deacon furrows his brows, the creature on the floor wheezes to breath, hands reaching out and scraping along the floor to get to its master. 

Deacon doesn't seem to care in the slightest as he turns to leave the room. Before he can exit and close the door behind him, he spares another glance to Leon.

“That's all gonna change this comin’ full moon, puppy. Ah can feel it.” The grin he gives is all fangs as Deacon walks away.

And Leon is left in his room with a dying creature that looks eerily like him, but he can't seem to take his eyes off it. He sinks to the floor and brings his knees to his chest. Eyes unblinking and chin wobbling.

“I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry.”

And Leon isn't sure if he's apologizing to himself, the creature dying a few feet from him. Or to you.

**

“I'm only going to say this once,” Tony could scream. He was so done with Captain Righteous and his moral high ground. Couldn't he see he was doing this for him? Doing this to everyone to keep them safe? To keep you safe.

“How about nonce?” Tony is all about sass. He spares a glance to Steve and his new companions. His eyes seek you out, but when he doesn't find you his brows crease, he pauses his hurried fingers of booting JARVIS through the synthetic body inside the Cradle. 

“Shut it down!”

“Nope, not gonna happen.” He goes to ask where you've gotten to, and when he tries to make eye contact with Steve again, the man just can't seem to hold his gaze. 

Steve sighs through his nose, “You don't know what you're doing.”

Bruce straightens, brows pull down over his eyes, “And you do? She's not in your head?”

“I know you're angry-” the girl, Wanda, Tony, remembers her name being brought up earlier. And she was just that, a girl.

“Oh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.” Oh, Brucie.

“Banner, after everything that's happened–” Captain Moral High Ground goes to interject.

Tony really wants to slap some sense into Steve, “That's nothing compared to what's coming!”

“You don't know what's in there!”

“This isn't a game–”

“The creature–”

There's a rush of wind, lights flash in warning, and the equipment around the room spark and shut down. All in the blink of an eye, “No, no. Go on. You were saying?”  

Well, guess he was fast. No time to think about it now.

“I'm rerouting the upload,” Tony tried not to pay attention to anything else around him. And the fact you weren't around had him a little worried. He kept thinking you'd come up behind him and hug him. Your head resting between his shoulder blades as your arms wrapped around his waist. 

But your touch never came.

“Wait!” Bruce's shout pulls Tony from his thoughts, just as Thor calls down lightning to strike the cradle. 

**

You awake with a start, chest heaving, and a dull ache to the side of your head. You bring a hand to soothe it away as your eyes blink to clear the blurred vision.

It's dark and cold, wherever you are. There's machine parts and alien tech hanging about the space you're in. It looks like a junkyard. 

A metallic voice pulls you from your inspection, and you startle at the intrusion.  

“I wasn't sure you'd wake up. I hoped you would, I wanted to show you something,” Ultron looks over his shoulder at you. They slump slightly as you try to sit up more. “I don't have anyone else.”

You wonder where the twins are. Did he kill them, too? Did they escape when they had the chance? You take in the room again, scanning to make sure they aren't here.

Ultron seemed to notice, hands stilling with whatever he was assembling, “They left,” his voice is quiet. It's silent for a moment as he resumes his tinkering.

“I think a lot about meteors, the purity of them. Boom! The end starts again. The world made clean for the new man to rebuild. I was meant to be new. I was meant to be beautiful.” He sounds wistful. You're sure his eyes would unfocus if he wasn't a homicidal robot.

It seems Clint got away with the Cradle, after all. Good.

“The world would've looked to the sky and seen hope,” Ultron continues his one-sided conversation, “seen mercy. Instead, they'll look up in horror because of you. You've wounded me. I give you full marks for that. But, like the man said, "What doesn't kill me…" 

Something red hot pierces through Ultron, pulling him apart down the middle, and from it steps out a larger version of him. Upgraded and broad, pointed metal and anger seethe through him. His red eyes flash down at you, and you can't help the whimper that leaves your throat.

 "…just makes me stronger.”

*

“What do you mean, ‘you lost her’?”  Tony's trying really hard not to strangle someone. He's visibly shaking, and he can't bring himself to calm down. He rakes a hand through his hair for the 100th time as he paces the room. “how could you have lost her?”

Clint cringes a little, face scrunched up in apology, “it's my fault. She got the cradle to me and told me to go, but Ultron took her right from under me, and I couldn't do anything about it. I'm sorry, Tony.”

Steve shook his head, “Not just your fault, Clint, I'm the one that told you to leave her.” Steve seems to puff up, instead of deflate like Tony wants him to.

Tony scrubs his hands down his face, leaving his hands around his mouth as he glares at Clint and Steve, “Well, any ideas where Ultron could have taken her?”

“Sokovia,” the Not-JARVIS says plainly.

Of course, it all comes back to Sokovia. Tony is tired. But he won't stop until he finds you and has you back.

[stovetoast]

a year ago today, kirby and the forgotten land released worldwide. i didnt have energy for a full drawing, so i wrote a little something under the cut to celebrate.

it feels strange. i still remember all of those months of waiting. theorizing. hoping. discussing. watching failboats reactions over and over. the day it was leaked, i typed KIRBYDISCOVERY into my calculator because i couldnt calm myself down from the news. its all so vivid, as if it happened yesterday, but... no. the game's been out for a year. to say that leaves a smile on my face.

the smile on my face is one of fondness. its been out for a year, and im growing along with it. i was 15, now i turn 17 in almost exactly 3 months. welcome to the new world was new to me, now i know how to pronounce most of the fake lyrics because of how much ive listened to it. i had short hair, now its down to my shoulders. people were unsure about elfilin, now theyre a beloved part of the franchise. i have a kirby hoodie now, my childhood dream. i can stand up for myself more. im growing. forgotten land won best family game of 2022. the start of a new world. the franchise is growing, and ive never been happier with my choice to live for it.

im not exaggerating when i say kirby and the forgotten land is what kept me alive in the months before its release. i was hurting, so badly, but i couldnt die. i didnt want to die. the idea of missing such an important addition to my favorite series, a milestone, a new start... it was torture. i had to keep going. and i still press on, even after i got my final waddle dee. i still press on, because why choose to live for something at all if youre going to take it back when the rest of the world seems to have moved on? i didnt. and i dont think i ever will.

every second of this game is an experience. every waddle dee you save, every note that plays, every hit you squeeze in on a boss. is it a perfect game? no, but it never had to be. i dont want it to be. i dont want a patch. i dont want an update. i dont want dlc. i dont want perfection. i want my unbridled love for this game to be questioned, because whats more human than finding beauty in mistakes? whats the point of singing karaoke with your friends if everyone hits every note? whats the point of skin if every mark is covered? whats the point of a funny exploit if its patched out? i still teach my friends the hammer jump glitch, because why should something like that stay hidden when its brought people joy?

forgotten land, its reception, its story, and the people who were so enthralled by its beauty that they stuck around... it captures the human experience better than any other installment in the franchise. the ties to the lore. the fake language. the music. the world. the way the waddle dees found the resources to build a town and start fresh. the way it was previously left behind, not out of malice, but out of curiosity. in japan, this game is known as kirby of the stars: discovery. the people who made interdimensional travel possible in-universe worked at a place called lab discovera. youre encouraged to explore, to find, to search.

this game is about discovering something new, whether it be something as grand as a reason to live, or as small as a rare stone hidden around the town. thats what life is all about too, isnt it?

yet most that care enough have already reached 100% completion, including me. people arent tagging spoilers anymore. everyone knows who fecto elfilis is. theres no anticipation for why it has a fear warning. its meant to be experienced as if it were new, but... its not anymore. maybe thats why my smile isnt as big as it should be. my mind wants to move on with the rest of the crowd, but i dont want to. i never want to.

i dont know how to close this in a clean way, mostly because i dont want to close it at all. theres so much more i want to say but if i did id be here for hours, so... ill leave you with this: if youre still reading by this point, thank you. if you played this game, thank you. if you voted for it in the game awards, thank you. if you suggested it to a friend, thank you. thank you. thank you. i have never held a game this close to my heart, at least not enough to wrote about it in this way. im overjoyed that hal labs loves their games in the way they do, and hope that they continue to stay this passionate for years to come. do they know we can feel their love? do they know how much theyve done for me? for us? maybe, maybe not.

to anyone involved in forgotten land... thank you. you made me feel human again, even if only for a week, and thats a sort of debt i will never be able to repay.