#it's been long enough since i read it that i forgot many of the details so im genuinely like i wanna knoww what happens next !!

[leaving-fragments]

i can't believe i have to wait 8 more days until the next episode of a good day to be a dog... are you telling me they don't even come out weekly

[reiderwriter]

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?�� he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

[hikaruchen]

Reading this blog and procrastinating what I should’ve been doing at the moment, but it’s super helpful if you want to know more about the Anglo-Saxon and Viking material culture but don’t want to be bored to hell. All articles are done by an archaeologist specializing in mortuary archaeology, and he has already written several ones about burials and pagan practices during that time through the lens of The Last Kingdom. I’ve linked one of his posts before on ao3 when discussing about the historical accuracy of Alfred’s tomb effigy in the show under the pic Prayer from the Pagan, but didn’t really had the time to check others out. I just did it and find his other articles are actually super interesting to read as well.

For instance, back when I post this pic in January I said the colour palette was inspired by the Alfred jewel, but I completely forgot that it actually appeared in the show (2x04) where Alfred handed it to Æthelwold and said “Take this. It is a symbol of my kingship. Bear it with authority.”, which might be partially true but is hilarious if you give it another thought.

Because, why, in God’s name, would Alfred hand an ARTEFACT version of the piece he commissioned himself to his nephew? As Prof. Williams already stated (in this post), the Alfred jewel has long been assumed to be the handle part of a pointer stick for following words when reading a book, and if you look at the artefact itself it is quite clear that there’s a part that’s been missing as well. The reason why scholars think it has something to do with Alfred is because:

1) It’s written. The text on the frame literally says that “ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN”, which means “Alfred ordered me made”. The more detailed explanation below (with the help of beloved wikitionary since I don’t understand Old English at all)

ÆLFRED (subject) Alfred, obviously MEC (object) me; accusative of iċ (I), but in the West Saxon dialect it’s actually an uncommon version of iċ’s accusative and is more often seen in the Anglian dialect. The frequently-used version for West Saxons is mē HEHT (verb) ordered; third-singular past tense for hātan (to call; to order etc.), often followed with infinitive verbs, cognate with heißen in German GEWYRCAN (verb) to make; I honestly don’t know if “to make” and “to be made” is just the same word in OE help And since the word order in OE is random as hell thanks to the case system (much like German which I eventually gave up learning because I don’t have a brain big enough for that. IT MAKES NO SENSE TO A NATIVE MANDARIN SPEAKER THANK YOU), it is eventually translated into “Alfred ordered me to be made”.

2) It was discovered in Somerset and has been dated to the late 9th century, and we all know what Somerset meant to Alfred

3) Alfred did say he would send a copy of his translation of Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care to every episcopal see in his kingdom in the preface to it, with the book accompanied “an æstel of 50 mancuses”. Mancus was a term to denote a gold coin or a unit for coins worth about a month’s wage for a skilled worker, such as a craftsman or a soldier. Whatever that æstel is it must be worth hell LOTS of money

But honestly while I do think this interpretation sounds very much plausible I’m thinking about other possibilities as well - how many Alfreds exactly existed during his time? We know that Æthel in OE means noble, so people bearing this prefix in their names were usually royal members or at least aristocrats, but what about Alfred? Was Alfred a popular name? Or was it unique enough that he could just go by this name without mentioning his title at all? Imagine if it were an Æthelred who made this, who the hell would know which one of these it was referring to, Æthelred the King, Æthelred the Ealdorman, Æthelred Ealhswith’s father, or even Æthelred the fucking Archbishop??? And yeah, I know Alfred was the king ™ here and there isn’t really much space left on the frame after all, but surely it wouldn’t cost a bone to add a cyning behind his name, right?

Sadly, as it was in the pre-Domesday-Book era, I can’t find the statistics of Anglo-Saxon names at that time (but keep in mind that there were at least 19 Alfreds worthy enough to be mentioned in Domesday Book even after the conquest. I don’t know if this says anything at all but I do want to mention it) What I’m trying to say is while it is highly highly highly likely (and I do believe and want to believe in this theory!), we cannot be one hundred percent certain that this jewel was really from the Alfred we’re talking about. And even if it was, it apparently wouldn’t be carried around by Alfred like THAT. Because that would be like, “Bear this with authority! Even though the symbol of my kingship is broken!”, said Alfred to a king wannabe. Lol.

The other thing I want to mention is this post about the show’s use of Fuller brooch, the one Alfred wore in S2 when he was in his war gear.

First of all, it is indeed dated to late 9th century and is assumed by scholars to be made by metalworkers of Alfred’s court. Everything is fine except I don’t think you would want to wear jewelry that luxurious to war…but then there’s this thing:

MEET GIANT FULLERS!

Well, can’t blame them since I am basically doing the same thing with my drawings (i.e. using patterns on jewelry and illustrations from manuscripts for embroidery design). But it’s worth noting that designs that are suitable for one art form doesn’t mean they can be applied to another well, and that’s why I claim my art is inspired by Anglo-Saxon art but NOT historical accurate for the Anglo-Saxon period. The reason I still do this and think it is understandable for TLK crew to do so is because we simply don’t have that many resources to reference from when it comes to this time period, and fabrics and wooden buildings are just extremely hard to preserve by nature. Instead of screwing up the design on your own, it just has more fun to add real historical elements into your work. Look at those easter eggs!

Ok, that’s it. I hope you enjoy my long rant and have a good read from Prof. Williams’s works!

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Lyceum Days Headcanons

Explanations around Merlin, Erin and Cyran up until the Second Divine War and Merlin's reawakening.

About Merlin/Erin

Since Merlin and Erin go through their various cycles regularly, they have established a certain narrative about their backgrounds. Usually, the people they befriend during any of these cycles don't know their true origin or purpose (the latter being not entirely clear to the pair either).

Here's the story they tell: "They are both adopted and raised by an old couple of mages, who lived secluded in the Mystical House. They left their children a small fortune, enough to comfortably focus on their education until they both have chance to support themselves again. Their parents died recently, however, leaving them alone to take care of themselves." 

That usually explains their home, their affinity to magic and comfortable appearance. They have even created a "reading room", which is said to have been the master bedroom of the house, which includes some memorabilia of their "parents". These memorabilia are actually truly little treasures received from their friends throughout their many cycles.

Merlin has established the Mystical House fairly early after the First War, but it grew and developed over the cycles. 

The camelossus is a recent addition to the Mystical House. After Merlin graduated, he travelled and visited the Ashen Wastes among others. When he created the oasis for the Uru Clan he also picked up Giga.

I did the math, and assuming they chose to reset their memories every 70-100 years, they would be in their 27th cycle. There are certain long-term memories that won't be erased and remain as certainties or instincts. Most importantly, knowing each other, of course. Then also having known Dura and Ygdris personally, or that Erin has a brother (even if she forgot who exactly). Erin will still know everything about her origins and race including the care she should take with her identity.

A lot of their time is dedicated to meticulous records of history and magic developments. These are built upon as time goes on but nothing is ever thrown away. Given that all human societies have their historical records sometimes very carefully curated and much is purposefully lost, the library in the MH is of unimaginable worth. It serves the purpose to "remember" things if necessary. Both Merlin and Erin will have their own little sections, carefully guarded from any third party access, as these would include very personal records.

Yes, if only Merlin would spend 20 years to read through his library to find the relevant information, his amnesia would be history. xD

There are things that haven't been recorded, though, like more detailed reason how the First Divine War started, how Merlin was truly created, how Dura sealed Ygdris away, etc).

(And THIS amnesia is different and maybe the solution suggested wouldn't be quite as straight forward)

Since each cycle offers a lot of time, both Merlin and Erin chose one or other profession to master. They have chosen among others: 

mages (obviously, since Merlin himself created the Lyceum once)

craftsmen (tailors, jewelers but also stuff like wood or metal workers)

chefs (they once had a really good and very popular restaurant and guesthouse in the capital)

musicians and composers (Merlin excelled at being a conductor, while Erin was better at composing)

architects (one or other building they have designed even still stands!)

...

Lyceum Days

For this current cycle, Merlin and Erin decided to return to the Lyceum, as students first, then as teachers. They wanted to update their magical records as well as have Merlin check on the current status of magical development and enhance it.

Since Merlin can adjust his appearance, he entered the Lyceum at around 15/16 of visual age and graduated at around 23-ish. Same for Cyran, except it's his true age.

Erin is not so adept at changing her appearance and joined a little later, at around 19. She appears to be in her 20 eternally.

It was Erin that showed interest in Cyran first and dragged him into the relationship. He had gotten some looks by girls at that time, of course, but he was overall a little unapproachable, as he kept to himself for his studies. Erin and Cyran ended up visiting some obscure lectures together and quickly connected over their studies. It took Erin half a year but they became a couple before Cyran hit 20.

Cyran can be a suspicious and insecure fellow. It took him a while to accept that Erin and Merlin were "siblings" rather than lovers.

(Erin and Merlin NEVER had anything going on, btw, in not a single cycle ever. ;-)

There are possibilities to live on campus, which was used by Cyran at first, but since he learned how to use the waystones, he prefers his own room at home. Merlin and Erin also come from and go back to the MH every day.

Erin and Cyran had to go out often (since neither could bring the other home easily at first) and ended up finding a quiet place that allowed comfortable sitting and drinking until late, plus and most importantly, had a large dance floor. The dancing became a huge passion for both, especially as the focus was on various ballroom suited dances, definitely matching Cyran's taste for this more strenuous activity.

Cyran couldn't really bring Erin to his home often (just a few occasions when they strictly did some studies). Erin hesitated at first to bring Cyran to the MH, since every visitor always had questions about its origin, but when their relationship became more intimate, Merlin made some adjustments, so as to allow Cyran to come and go without granting him full access.

Erin told Cyran about 2 years into their relationship that she probably can't have kids (being infertile) and Cyran was more than okay with that. He never thought of children as anything other than an obligation and chore left to any woman he would be unfortunate enough to be forced to wed.

He never proposed. They did talk about it at some point but quickly agreed that given Cyran's family situation, it was best not to pursue that direction. (He'd be disowned for choosing a nameless commoner.)

Cyran's family did try to find a suitable match but while he was with Erin he tried his best to subtly evade the deal. After Erin left, he openly refused a union.

Merlin and Cyran graduated in the same year. While Cyran became Court Mage, Merlin decided to travel a little. And on his own, too!

Erin remained two years longer at the Lyceum for her historical research. Merlin left the MH behind for her (and Cyran) to use.

During those two years Erin learned a lot if not all formal etiquette, as she often visited Cyran at the palace. Such surrounding was never naturally her thing but she certainly did enjoy displaying elegance and pride when having the opportunity to dance there.

Erin noticed Cyran's interest in dangerous and forbidden magic, of course, but always admired his determination to study. She considered telling him the truth as she wagered he might actually be happy to have a Hypogean partner. But before she could do so, he in turn decided to entrust her with something else, sealing their fate.

Cyran probably was invited to the cult after joining the cesspool of personalities at the palace, who know exactly who to pick to fill their legacy. He wanted to share his growing fascination with the Great Will and his teachings and so decided to bring Erin to a very small ceremony.

Not that Erin ever consciously ran from Ygdris, knowing full well that he was unable to act, nor did she actually feel to be in the wrong and afraid. But she seemed to always have avoided these places. She tried to stick through it, for Cyran's sake, but when she thought the Great Will beckoned her directly, she ran away, terrified.

Cyran apologised that night but there was nothing he could do.

The next day, Erin broke up with him. His association with this cult would not end, even if he were to promise it now. He would continue to love her, yes, but he could never, possibly protect her from the Great Will. Erin was still forced to be careful with Celestials, for her survival's sake. But she realised that the care she had to take from her master was infinitely bigger. And thus, Cyran had suddenly become a man she loved but could never be close again.

As a parting gift, she left him a magically locked box. It included a small vial of her own blood, aimed at saving his life once should he ever need it. The other item was a small book containing the most dangerous of Dark Magic spells. Erin's the kind of person, willing to create a monster, if only it means the mastery and application of knowledge and skill. At least, she is also willing to strike that very same monster down, if need be.

Erin leaves and joins Merlin.

Cyran didn't take that break-up very well, obviously. He hid even more behind his mask, moving forward alone. He never had any partners again afterwards. Neither did Erin, but that's also because she was gone for 20 years without being actually able to.

Afterwards, Cyran would, on occasion, invite ladies to his chambers. You'd think that he couldn't do so subtly enough in the palace and risk his spotless reputation? Well, you'd be wrong. The entire palace knows and ignores such thing, as these are common ongoings anyway (and for people with much higher status than a Court Mage, too. When I said "cesspool" earlier, it was for a reason. These are the same people that General Lorenzis offered his work to later on.).

Merlin returned to the Lyceum after 2 or 3 years of traveling. He was lucky to meet a former professor who told him about the upcoming position. Merlin didn't exactly apply, he just showed up and said "I'll be there tomorrow!". xD (He probably winged the entire time being a teacher there.)

Erin stayed away from the capital. She still lived in the MH (at a new location, so that Cyran couldn't find it) but she joined the Evergreen Consortium as a scholar and traveled until the war...

Cyran managed to open the box he was gifted shortly before the war. He couldn't study the book to its entirety but it still enhanced his abilities greatly. He probably needed to use Erin's life saver as well, but that could be reserved for a much later point, too.

In the war, as things got serious and the country needed to operate on emergency setting, Erin and Merlin united again to help. 

I am not sure when and how Hogan comes in, but latest by that war they had become good friends and fought quite a few battles together.

I envision that Erin might help to provide crucial information about the enemy at that time but not without endangering her secret, not least because pesty Celestials wouldn't hesitate to strike her down.

She will meet Cyran by chance, since he is on the battlefield as one of the surviving Court Mages. He knows what she is at that point, but they don't mention it or have time to talk about it. In fact, he probably covers her to avoid escalation with the Celestials at some point.

Erin is caught up the fight, injured and retreats into the leylines.

Merlin does his thing. Likely in Ryeham, where his... mysterious "seal" is sitting, next to the Rift.

Both, Merlin and Erin, disappear for the next 20 years. Although, Merlin seems to still be in touch with Hogan somehow, despite continuing to loose his memory in that timeframe.

And the rest is current events, covered to an extend here.

[featherwingfox]

One of my top favorite characters of the entire series, the Spirit Guardian! AKA Guardian of the Spirit World and Guardian of the World Beyond. You get the idea! He's an ANGEL!!!

I kept his design using the original Minecraft skin as a reference, but I just let his hair stick out of the hood a little. I figured he would have white hair to match his big BEAUTIFUL FEATHERY WINGS!!!!! 😍😍😍 I absolutely love big feather wings! Okay, okay, moving on, the colors were easy since he's mostly black and white, I tend to mess up lighter skin tones in traditional art but I managed not to this time! As for making the black stand out so you can see his pants I had to make it slightly lighter than his robe. I'm happy with how all this turned out! I unfortunately couldn't quite get the hands to look right, so I once again saved myself from the trouble of drawing them by covering them up! You can see some of his left hand so you know he has them, but I posed him in a way that would look natural, including his wings flapping in front of his hands, and it feels like he's descending to meet us! Most likely Sabre to say hello or tell him he's caused some more problems and needs to be responsible and take care of it!

I have been drawing wings, mostly feathery ones, for about as long as I have been drawing. Those are probably the most developed parts of my artistic skills since I can't tell you enough times, I love feathered wings! And as proud of them as I am...... I have noticed mistakes over time that really gets under my skin. I can't fathom how this happened, but some how, I MESSED UP THE WINGS!!! 😭☹️ And now I shall point them out as I need to burn this in my memory so I don't let it happen again, and hopefully helps someone else remember to double check your sketch before starting the line art! There's no fixing mistakes if you notice them after that. It's the point of no return.

There is a second layer of feather on the outside of his left wing, I forgot add a second layer on the inside of his right wing, and it really gets me because I haven't made this mistake in so many years! It came back somehow! Now I'll explain what wings are supposed to look like! Or at least these ones since there are many different shapes and lengths wings have.

These wings are supposed to have the longest feathers on the outside, so that second outer layer is not supposed to be there. On his other wing I forgot the second inner layer. The feathers on the outside are like the backbone of the wings, so there shouldn't be layers outside, only inside. There are two inner layers, the second longest being the support and the smallest ones are the softest. They get smaller and softer the closer they are to the flyer. I hope I explained this well as I have done my best to be clear and understandable. It feels good to talk about these mistakes! As much as they bother ,e it is okay, I can redraw him in the digital art someday.

Now I can say my last words about the posing. The wings specifically. When they are curved you can not forget the feathers behind the curve. I'm not good with examples, but the best I can explain this, incase your are still confused, is imagine putting on a jacket or a coat without zipping it closed. The opening in the front allows you to see the back of the inside of the jacket. But some of the jacket is curved as it wraps around you while putting it on. Pretend you're invisible or something, you can see the back on the inside of the jacket while the sides are blocked by the front of the jacket. You can even just grap an object like a cup or ball with a piece of paper and wrap the paper around the object. I feel like I'm over explaining now so I shall stop. Thank you for reading if you got confused, I'm told I can be a bit confusing in my writing so I'm trying to fix that.

Some additional details you can't see in the drawing that I'd like to share with y'all is his eyes. You won't see them often, but when you do just know I'm not holding back with how beautiful they'll be. I initially thought they'd be golden but I've seen many fan animations and drawings of him having blue eyes, which I like a lot too, so I'm asking, and you please someone answer😭🙏, should I make them blue or gold? Maybe mix them? I'll mix them if nobody answers again, I'll probably choose this one now! But one thing is for certain, when he's angry they'll turn red! Luckily it is difficult to incur his wrath.

The Spirit Guardian is a great character that I enjoyed and I loved the interactions the others had with him, he's especially fun to mess with. Out of the arcs I have planned, his will probably be my favorite to write and draw. I'm not spoiling anything buuuut let's just say some Demons were not happy with their punishments. 😈

I will see you tomorrow with another design, there is a shady character waiting for you! 👥

Story: Steve Saga (Fan Rewrite)

Character: Spirit Guardian/Guardian of the Spirit World/Guardian of the World Beyond.

Abilities: can fly with BEAUTIFUL FEATHERY WINGS, travel between dimensions and realms, find lost souls, send souls to be judged, lightning, and powers I added, a HOLY-BLAST-BEAM-WHATEVER-IT-IS, give blessings, make a contract, and can either add or subtract to a judged soul's punishment.

Personality: serious, a stickler for rules, calm, level headed, polite, friendly, gentle, soothing, and of course he's ✨🪽M A J E S T I C🪽✨

[be-co-me]

En Plein Air

Levi Ackerman

5.7k Words

Summary: A mysterious raven haired painter seeks solace in your flower laden patio and glasses of whiskey when he finds his hidden job turns awry. This is my submission for @kentopedia's valentine's collab event, Love Through The Ages. I urge you to go check out the rest of the fics as they are written and posted! (It tried to link it but it won't work for some reason!) This takes place during the late 1800's in the impressionism era in France. This has always been a favorite era of mine, specifically for the art that debuted around this time. Monet's pieces are my absolute favorite, specifically the water lily series and I think everyone should see it. I listened to Gregory Alan Isakov for the better part of writing this, so if you'd like to listen to some folk music as you read (I think the music is very fitting to the vibe of the fic), my three favorites are Empty Northern Hemisphere, If I Go I'm Goin, and Dandelion Wine.

---

Impressionism. The art movement taking the world by storm along with the budding history and developments of the new age, especially had caught your eye. Vehicles, new necessities; water and electricity even being brought to the lower class, such as yourself would be labelled, though you had not yet been fortunate enough to have them in your own home as of yet.

But specifically, what most caught your eye was the art of the raven haired man sitting across the bar from you, occupying a table all by his lonesome as you polish glasses and watch his nimble hands paint, leaned over a decently sized canvas. 2.5x3.5 meters in size if you had to guess. The tall whiskey on the rocks he ordered earlier tucked to the edge of the table as to not disrupt his painting should it be spilled.

His jacket was discarded neatly across the back of the chair placed next to him, his hat forgotten along with his whiskey glass. You realized you had been polishing the same glass for the last few minutes as you stared, when another patron had come to the bar top to order.

Once you served them, your mind forgot the glasses and silverware that needed polishing to end the evening in favor of staring at the man located across from you once more. You noticed many more details of him as he was the lone subject of your attention now. His eyes had not yet met yours as his concentration must have been so deep.

You noticed the paint layered over his fingertips, vibrants and dulls covering the pale of his skin. The painting looked to be outdoors, and, if you didn't know any better, you would say yourself the painting looked finished, but the last three hours of refinery to detail he had done since the sun went down proved to you otherwise.

He suddenly looked up, his gaze meeting the whiskey glass he had long ignored. His paint covered finger tips grazed the top as he picked the glass up and took a long drag from it, smearing different colors along the rim of the glass, something you didn't think you would mind polishing off later in turn of seeing the finished product.

His eyes met yours as he set the glass into the same wet ring the table now adorned from the glass. You retreated your gaze to that of his drink, the ice now mostly melted, and glass now almost empty. Your staring could technically be deduced to the state of his drink, as you were the bartender, but you were wiser to know he would most likely not believe that statement.

He cleared his throat loudly, pushing his chair back and carefully paraded around his adopted work space as to not knock into it. He brought the glass up to your bar, placing it in front of your empty hands, steely gaze now meeting your own, at a much closer distance than you realized you'd be comfortable admiring him from.

The silence between the two of you was heavy as he did not say a word, the gramophone's music filtering through the space instead, something you had been lucky to receive as a gift from one of your more wealthy, regular patrons, saying he had already gotten a new model. Your gaze met the glass once more and you noticed it was now empty, a feat you didn't seem to notice as he made his way to the bar. He must have finished it off.

"Would you like another sir?" you asked, reluctantly meeting his rigid gaze once again. His head swiveled to the table he had occupied as a group of patrons walked past, eyeing the painting that sat atop it from a respectful distance, carefully critiquing it. His head turned back to you with a nod.

"Yes please." he responded, his gaze turning back to the table. You nodded in affirmation and turned to grab the whiskey he had requested earlier in the evening. You turned back to him as you poured, hoping you may engage in some small talk to find more detail into his character.

"Your eyes will be strained painting in the dim light you know?" you stated, eyes concentrated on the pour you gave him. You set the bottle down into it's rightful place and scooped some fresh ice into the cup, placing it back in front of him before meeting his gaze once more, looking for a response.

He stared for a few seconds before responding.

"Better light than my shitty apartment and I only get light in the studio during the day. This was a last resort to finishing by tomorrow." he replied bluntly, but softly, eyes grazing down your frame to give a once over before meeting yours again.

"Hmm. What's tomorrow?" you asked, leaning a cheek against your palm atop the bar in front of him, happy the plan for idle conversation had worked in your favor. His gaze met the table once again before turning back to you.

" A gallery. Not a large one by any means, although I wish to be represented in one someday." he responded, shrugging his shoulders as he sipped from the new glass.

"May I see what you are working on up close?" you asked. His eyes grazed your features once again as you sat atop your palm, taking another sip from your own glass the wealthy patron had bought you earlier in the evening.

"I'd rather you see it when it is finished." he responded. You hummed in response.

"When will that be?" you asked and he pondered the question.

"Depends on if you'll kick me out when you close or let me stay." he responded. It was your turn now to ponder his statement and you nodded, removing yourself from atop your palm and turning to eye the clock hung over the top of the bar, surprised to see the hands nearing closing time.

"I don't think that would be a problem." you responded with a soft smile. He nodded, standing to make his way back to the table. He sat and placed the glass in it's same dark ring as to not make another stain atop the wood, then plucked a fine tip paint brush off the top of his palette, beginning his work once again.

You stared a bit longer than needed, something you hoped he was oblivious to, before picking up the glasses once again and polishing them off.

As you finished your closing duties, the last of the noisy patrons leaving the bar, you poured yourself another tall glass of floral gin, with a dash of floral bitters and tonic. Your nose wrinkled at the burn of the alcohol, strong but smooth in flavor with a flowery lavender aftertaste.

As you finished wiping the bar top down and half of your earlier poured drink along with the task, the final on your list of duties now done, you eyed the raven head man's table, taking note of the empty glass next to him. You grabbed a fresh, icy glass and poured another out for him, bringing it along with your own drink to join him at the table.

You set the glasses down carefully, plucking up the empty glass placed next to him and replacing it with the fresh one. You carefully pulled a chair out next to him and watched him as he painted many more fine details across the span of the canvas.

The style vaguely reminded you of art you had seen in the papers from Claude Monet, an artist you had come to revere for his Nympheas series he had started not long ago. In favor of capturing the vibrancy of life, dark sharp lines were now replaced with colors, vibrant and dull to show the shadows, light, and depth of life in more fine and true toned detail. It also replaced the stuffiness of painting in studios with that of painting outdoors. En plein air they called it. It became a style you rather wished you owned a piece of, specifically that of Monet's work, though it was far too pricey and that dream would remain just so.

It made you feel free, a dream you wished could become a reality, to live in a home atop a pond of water lilies. Only you were not wealthy; your dresses and occupation told others that much, no matter how hard you could try to front that you were. Although you were the owner of a small bar tucked into the middle upper class estate, you were by no means seen as a respectable business owner to many of the wealthy that came to drink the afternoons and evenings away.

The clink of a glass hitting the table brought you back to reality, his eyes meeting yours as he dusted his fingers across a paint smeared cloth. You eyed the piece, wondering if it had been finished. Your eyes met his steely greys.

"Is it finished?" you asked. He nodded, continuing to wipe his fingers. an unlit cigarette sat between his lips, hindering him from responding to the question vocally. You leaned over the table even more, admiring the small details of the piece, attempting to eye the separate brush strokes.

"I'm assuming this won't be varnished correct?" you asked. His hand obscured his face, cupping around the end of the cigarette as he lit it with a match, waving the match around a couple of times to snuffle the flame out before setting it atop the table. He took a long drag, leaning back into the chair.

"You've done your reading haven't you?" he asked, blowing the cloud of smoke away from your direction. You nodded.

"I'm keen to this up and coming style and seeing where it goes," you started, eyes raking the other side of the canvas as you leaned over farther to catch a better glance at the details, "I find the switch up intriguing and rather more beautiful than works of the past." you responded, continuing to eye the painting.

A large garden bed of French lavender swaying in the breeze caught your eyes before moving onto other flowering plants adorning the canvas. It seemed to be of a farmers market, though you noted the lack of people on the canvas. Handmade dresses fluttered in the wind hung to the side of stalls, and you eyed one you thought may look rather good on yourself.

You spent a long while admiring the work and you both sipped your drinks in comfortable silence. You were sure it was well past midnight at this point, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You finally looked away from the canvas.

"It's beautiful. I may have to find where this market is to see it in person." you told him. Your eyes met the paint tubes littering the table, something you had failed to notice before. Maybe he's a bit wealthier than you are, being able to afford the new storage units for paint.

"You've gotten your paint in tubes. Quite hard to find around here." you noted aloud, meeting his eyes. He nodded, finishing his drink off.

"My uncle got them for me on a trip out of town. One of his customers was nice enough to give him a hefty discount, though I'm not sure I'll ever hear the end of returning the favor to him." he responded.

You pointed a finger to his drink and he shook his head. You opted to finish your own and stand, grabbing the discarded glasses and making your way behind the bar to wash them as he began to pack his supplies up. You made your way to the gramophone and halted the current shellac record that played, placing it into it's designated envelope and back to it's alphabetical bin.

You met him back at the table before grabbing your belongings, ready to also make your way home. He adjusted his jacket into prim and proper place after putting it on.

"I haven't paid for my drinks." he stated. You shrugged in response.

"Guess you'll have to come back and see me then."

---

You realized, rather irritated, the next morning, that you had never gotten his name. In favor of the spring day the farmer's almanac predicted would be warmer than the previous early spring season, you opted to open the outdoor patio of the bar for the day rather than the inside, which you would possibly open in the absence of the sun later in the evening. You now admired the flowers littering the small yard in a new light since seeing the mysterious man's painting. Maybe you could add even more flowers, specifically the French lavender that jumped out to your gaze in his painting.

Your morning went smoothly, your cup of coffee being replaced with that of the drinks a regular had bought you. He drank on absinthe, a flavor he had brought home from the military, something that had become quite popular, though you didn't admire the flavor the same way many other patrons had. You refused to drink it.

In the later afternoon, a warm breeze enveloped the patio and your eyes piqued at the raven haired man you had met the previous evening as he walked through the gate. He carried he same painting supplies he hauled last night, gaze wandering for a table that was open. Currently they had all been occupied and his eyes met your own as he made his way to the empty barstool in front of you. He looped his bag across the rung of the back of the chair, placing his jacket and hat across it before sitting atop the chair. You were rather glad you had worn a nicer dress in favor of seeing him again.

"The usual?" you asked, grabbing a glass to make the drink anyways. He nodded.

"Not quite sure I've been here enough for you to be asking me that question." he responded. You poured into the glass and scooped up the ice, placing the glass in front of him. He took a long sip from the glass, eyeing the drink sitting atop your work space. Your cheeks felt warm and you were sure they were rosy, the tip of your nose tingling at the slight buzz of the gin running through your veins.

"How was the gallery?" you asked. He shrugged, messing with the buttons of his white shirt as he unbuttoned the top two at his collar and the cuffs at his wrists, rolling them up a couple of times.

"I got quite the offer on one of my paintings. I'll be meeting the gentleman here later today." he responded.

"I'm glad I could convince you to come back, let alone bring others with you." you responded wittily, taking a sip of your drink. Your gaze wandered over his raven locks of hair, noticing the cigarette tucked behind his ear. His bangs fell into his eyes, probably due soon for a haircut, but you rather liked the longer hair on him.

He began to dig out supplies from the bag, canvas ditched for a sketchbook in lieu of the considerably smaller workplace he could now work with.

You continued your work as he began his, hastily making drinks as more patrons poured in. You thought you may let him know of an open table lest he'd want to move, but you'd rather he stayed closer, and he was so endowed in his work. You thought it better not to interrupt him unless you brought a new drink along with you.

As the afternoon slowed and patrons rolled in at a lesser frequency, you stood in front of him, taking a break from the drinks you had earlier in the afternoon once your wealthy regular left, in exchange for water. You tried to catch a glimpse of what he worked on, sketching out lines across the pad with graphite rather than any paint as of yet.

Another man made his way next to him, setting his own jacket and hat atop the back of the adjacent chair, and it was only now you got a glimpse of the work as he set the book down to shake hands with the new man. Your eyes scanned the page, a drawing resembling the flowers of your patio across the page. You felt a warmness trickle inside your chest as you looked back up, asking the other man what he would like to drink on after refilling the raven haired man's glass. Another whiskey, but neat this time.

His sketchpad then sat closed atop the bar for quite long as they conversed over the painting the man would be purchasing. You eavesdropped on their conversation, noting the painting being purchased would be the one he spent the better part of the day working on the previous evening.

You felt excitement for your newfound 'regular', dare you call him, when you heard the monetary value placed on the work by the other man, and in the raven man's expression, you found an honest surprise to what the wealthy man would pay for the fine art as they shook hands on the price, a celebration found in lieu of another drink.

As the evening sun faded into the starry sky, you lit the lanterns adorning your patio, painting it down to a bright orange and yellow haze.

"I'd like to tab out, and I insist you put Levi Ackerman's drinks on my own tab." the wealthy man insisted. You eyed the raven haired man, his gaze one of annoyance, in lieu of hearing his name for the first time before nodding. You told the man the total and he made his way out of the bar with his new piece, after leaving a hefty tip.

"It's a beautiful piece, I'm not surprised it was sold so quickly, Mr. Ackerman." you told him, testing his name on your tongue as you poured him a new drink.

"Just Levi please." he responded, taking a long sip of the fresh drink after you had placed it in front of him.

"Okay Just Levi, what are you sketching out now?" you asked. His eyes met yours in warning at the joke, shaking his head as he opened the closed sketchbook back up. Your eyes raked over it, as you found it the same as the last time you snuck a glance at it. He picked the graphite back up, beginning his work on it once more.

You noted the graphite smeared across the meat of his left hand, something you thought must have interfered with his work quite often. For sitting at the bar for the afternoon and evening, the depiction of the space you created was accurate in it's fullest across the page, the lanterns now being added in one by one.

You fell into the same routine as the previous night, Levi worked on his art as you closed your bar down, continuing to pour him drinks every so often. You poured one out for yourself, in search for a buzz from the alcohol again to warm yourself up in the colder breeze the night had brought in.

You finished your duties and your drink, pouring another as you made your way to the seat next to him, watching him as he leaned over the sketch and placed carefully calculated, soft smudges across it with oil pastels now, bringing the page to life with color. You noted the dull fingerprints of the pastels atop his glass, something you again wouldn't mind to polish away. You rather liked the lack of people in his paintings, you noted, as you found the depictions of the wealthy often polluted what you thought the nature of the paintings to be about; what they meant to you personally. Freedom.

He finished off the drink after half an hour, along with he sketch, and you grabbed the glasses, yours long empty and your body warm, as you washed the glasses under the warm water and set them atop a shelf to dry in the evening breeze.

You found the page torn out of the sketchbook when your eyes met his figure again, edges neat and crisp, sat atop the bar. He dug a glass frame out of the bag, placing the painting carefully into it. He then pushed the frame towards you across the bar top, and you picked it up with a sense of delicacy, careful to not mess with the pastels sat behind the glass. Your eyes roamed from the sketch to that of your patio a few times, noting the details even you would have failed to notice.

"Yet another beautiful piece of work. I'm quite honored you'd choose a place of my creation to bring to life." you commented, sliding the frame back to him carefully.

"You keep it. I insist. And let me pay that tab." he responded, fishing out cash from his pocket. You shook your head, taking the painting and placing it in a nook below the gin shelf so you may eye it more often in lieu of when you would be pouring your own favored drink to enjoy after long evenings.

"This is more than enough payment. I insist. So long as you let me enjoy your paintings, you can drink for free in my establishment." you responded. He left with a curt nod.

---

One day passed, then two. Three days became a week before you saw him again. You began to worry, and even felt a bit disappointed at the absence of your newfound favorite patron. A rather solemn look adorned his pretty features the next time you saw him walk through he gates of your patio, and you rather thought that he could be a painting himself as he walked to and sat across from you at the bar top right before closing that evening. You noted the lack of paint supplies and the angry red color under his fingernails and the blistering red of scrubbed hands in the lantern's orange light as he set his palms atop the bar.

"I hope that's paint under your nails Levi." you told him, your gaze leaving his hands as your brow creased in worry, turning to grab the whiskey bottle that sat abandoned the past week and pouring it into a glass. You heard a mutter of curses leave his lips and you set the cold glass in front of him. He took quite a long while before nestling the glass in between his hands and taking a sip from it.

You opted to try his drink of choice for the evening, abandoning your own in lieu of trying a new flavor on your tongue, your eyes still grazing over the oil pastel depiction of your patio every time you made a drink in his absence. The new type of burn made your nose scrunch involuntarily, a much stronger alcohol percentage invading your taste buds.

You turned to him once again as the notes of smoky wood and caramel smoothed over your taste buds, the strong alcohol leaving a rather pleasant flavor behind. You could see why he enjoyed the drink, especially colder.

You sat in a rather comfortable silence, and after he finished the first of what you assumed to be many drinks quickly, he let out a rather exasperated sigh, throwing his head back and leaned far back against the barstool, his arms folding across his eyes. You continued to sip at your own drink, grabbing the bottle next to you to pour into his empty glass, scooping the ice into it. His posture didn't change.

"Want to talk about it?" you asked, voice struggling as you took a sip of the strong whiskey, realizing he hadn't said a word to you in the half hour he had been there and you rather longed for the sound of his deep voice again.

It took him a long while to sit up before shaking his head. You nodded in response.

"I thought I'd have to revoke my offer if you didn't come back to see me you know." you joked lightheartedly, his gaze finally meeting your own, excitement fluttered in your chest as he inhaled to speak to you for the first time in a week.

"How have things been around here? Any trouble?" he asked. You shook your head in response to the rather random question, taking note of the lilt of edge in his voice.

"Just the regular drunk hooligans and their usual shenanigans on occasion. I'm far used to it by now." you responded, taking a sip of the drink. He reached into the chest pocket of his already buttoned down white shirt, grabbing the case of cigarettes and matches from it, lighting one up. He took a drag from it, blowing it away from you, eyes meeting your own once more.

"I'm glad to hear so. Seems to be trouble everywhere else." he responded.

"My offer still stands. Don't you know bartenders aren't only good at keeping bars but also secrets?" you asked with a worried smile, polishing away at a glass you'd forgotten previously to keep your hands occupied. His gaze met over both his shoulders, you assumed to confirm the lack of bodies besides the two of you within the vicinity before freely speaking of his absence the last week.

"Being an artist doesn't make much money you know, unless you're well known, which I am not." he said, pausing to sip at his drink, and you nodded in following attention of what he would explain. His tone became significantly quieter as he spoke next.

"My uncle works for the mafia, and unfortunately I have to help him. I owe him the debt of removing me from the deepest depths of society. No, I owe him my life, as much as I hate to say so. No favors that I repay him would ever be enough." he continued, ashing the forgotten cigarette before taking another drag from it.

You nodded, processing the information as you took another sip of your drink, the ice steadily melting. You wondered if that was all of the information he would allow you to know of the subject or if he would continue on. You eyed his hands once more, the redness of his skin waned, but remained underneath his fingernails. You ran a cloth under warm water as he continued to sip at his drink, grabbing at the brim of the glass in his particular way. You wrung the steaming towel out and placed your arms across the bar top, pointing towards his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but to think the red was placed there earlier in the day, and after attempting to harshly scrub it away, he wanted to seek solace in your establishment and your presence.

"May I?" you asked, your eyes staring strongly into his own, the question coming out as more of a demand rather than a request for permission. His gaze softened and he nodded, placing his drink down on the bar top, the fingers of his right hand staying wrapped around it.

You gently wiped around top of his left hand, lightly rubbing into the creases of his fingers and knuckles before gently turning his palm over and doing the same, making sure to wipe over every millimeter of the skin on both sides before turning his hand over once more and beginning on his fingernails. His glass sat empty in your concentration and he reached for your own, something you didn't mind as you rubbed his cuticles clean.

You pulled the towel taught around your thumb nail, running it underneath his own nails to remove the angry rusty red. Once you finished his left hand, you ran the towel under the warm water once again, cleaning it of it's dirt now, setting your palm onto the bar in demand of his other hand without a word.

He placed his palm carefully onto yours and sipped at your drink carefully as he watched you clean his right hand. As you began on his upper forearms, you felt his muscles untaut across your palm and he visibly relaxed in your peripherals, a sigh leaving his lips. You felt your own shoulders relax as well.

"I like these hands more when they're covered in paint and pastels, not in danger Levi." you nearly whispered, finishing up underneath his nails. You placed the towel under the water once again, cleaning it thoroughly and tossing it onto the back of the bar after folding it up.

He brought his hand back to him, wrapping it around the glass in his other hand as he examined his now clean fingers. His bangs covered his steely grays as he pondered a response to your statement.

"I hope one day that's all you'll have to see them do." he responded quietly in return. You poured a short glass of the whiskey for yourself this time, topping his own off as well, reveling in the intimate environment the two of you had blossomed in the first of his visits.

For, in technicality, the third day of knowing him, you already felt quite a hearty connection to him, even more so than your more frequent bar guests. If anything had happened to him and he didn't come to the bar anymore, so suddenly, you'd be quite upset, on an even deeper level than you'd felt the past week.

"I hope I get to know you long enough to see that happen." you said, used to the burn of your drink now, your eyes meeting his own. You stared into his eyes, finishing the drink and placing the glass down. You stepped atop the milk crate at your feet and placed your elbows atop the bar, hands intertwining with the collar of his shirt as you pulled his face much closer to your own. His gaze penetrated your own as you took over the solemn conversation, noses nearly touching, your eyes flitting down to his lips and all around his visage, taking in his sharp features, dark long eyelashes, and plump lightly chapped lips before tracking back to his eyes.

You noted they were more of a slate grey, the flecks of blue you hadn't noticed before much more pertinent in the close proximity you'd brought about. The color reminded you much of the hydrangeas nestled in the back corner of your now peacefully quiet patio, peaceful, though your heart was thrumming harder than you think it ever had. His palms lay wrapped around your forearms in anticipation.

The color of his eyes dwindled away as they closed and his lips captured your own, the chapping of them brushing roughly against the edges of your lips. You captured his bottom lip between your own in an attempt to soften it against the petroleum across your own lips.

Your hands brushed the briary undercut he donned and his palms brushed over your shoulder blades with a squeeze as he pushed harder into the kiss you had initiated. You could taste the smokiness of his cigarette, homogenous to the smokiness and burnt caramel of the whiskey you had shared earlier in the evening, and you hoped he could taste the same on you.

Your intimacy was broken up by the loud thunder rumbling off in the distance, the breeze picking up strongly, something you failed to notice in your already lovesick state. You broke apart from him, chest heaving, staring into the slate of his eyes that reminded you oh so much of your hydrangeas you had moved closer to the front of your patio earlier in the week.

His palms lay wrapped around your forearms once again, yours in much of a similar manner. You smiled deeply at him and noticed for the first time that he returned the sentiment back to you. You sat in a more than comfortable silence as the pace of your breathing returned to normal, the searing warmth of his palms a comfort to your skin in the late cold breeze. The coarse thunder boomed once more, a streak of bright white light painting the sky and his eyes, before quickly disappearing into the covered stars.

"I need you to always come back. Please. You're my new favorite regular you know." you told him breathily. He nodded in response to the sentiment, gaze following behind you. Your eyes met the path his own followed, staring into the painting he had made for you the week before.

"Who would I tell my darkest secrets to if I didn't? And who would clean my conscience figuratively and literally when I've found myself in trouble?" he said in response, slate greys flitting back to you.

"I'll always be here, whiskey glass in hand, whenever you need it you know. I'm not going anywhere." you whispered. He nodded, rubbing his palm up and down the expanse of your now exposed forearms, your sleeves rolled up earlier to clean dishwares.

The both of you gathered your belongings, ready to fare out the storm brewing as he insisted he walk you home. He pointed out the colors of the dull night, bringing it to life in the now drenched city estate. You turned back to look at your closed down bar, and the flowers of your patio that much needed the rain thundering down from the sky.

And you found yourself more alive than you'd ever felt, standing in the rain, looking upon the result of your life's works in peace and harmony.

The landscape now bloomed in vibrants and pastels in your wake, no longer dull and forgotten. Your world flooded with a new sense of colored hues as you gazed upon your flowers, in a deeper sense of detail than before; and you found that raven colored black he brought about earlier in the week was not the absence of all the colors you had previously thought it was, but rather kin to the mix of the many hues littered about in the bottom of the raven artist's bag and across his canvases.

---

Please let me know what you think! I think this is by far one of my favorite pieces I have written. I wanted to add more, but I felt it would ruin where it leaves off, so maybe a part two will be due at some point if requested. I wrote this last night after a pretty scary time; my college campus had an active shooter and our whole campus was kind of shook for the better part of an hour (no one was injured!), but writing definitely helped to calm me down, so I am glad I made an entry for this! This is lightly edited as I don't have much time before class, so please excuse any mistakes!

[keepmycandleburning]

So I have another AU chapter that can be ready in the next few days if I prioritize editing it. There are a couple chapters here that are really diverging from Bellamort/Bellatrix as a main theme, as I said in the last chapter notes, but I'll try to bring it back in after I get through my pre-written sections. And I just wrote a whole Bellatrix fic with Bellamort in it so just read that for now.

I'm having some concerns with a high amount of things being misinterpreted or missed in the AU, which could either simply be that it's been a long time since most readers have read KMCB and they forgot, that I'm not connecting things well due to not trying as hard as I have in my finished fics, or most concerningly that these things are actually not clear in KMCB and I just have not known that until now...

I'm pretty sure I use a writing style where things don't get spelled out or repeated - I was just reading some sections of one of the books that I don't usually look at as much (I normally reread the Voldemort sections constantly but only look at the rest as needed) and wow there was so much spelling out and repeating of what was happening. It was HBP and it was reading as really unnecessarily repetitive. I think this is some sort of problem that's developing on my end recently where I have for some reason decided that repeating information is a writing mistake - specifically where something happens in action/dialogue and then the internal narrative essentially just repeats/reiterates that same thing soon after. Maybe don't listen to me Fotini...

Similarly in my writing style I now tend toward not even explaining things once. An example of this is that in A Series of Sanctioned Departures, Bellatrix names her kitten after a star in the Andromeda constellation, Alpheratz - but I don't tell you that when she does it, I only allude to it later on when the two constellations are crashing into each other and it mentions both Orion's belt and Alpheratz. This was a detail I knew could be missed but hoped would be caught at this later point in the fic (if you didn't already know). Did it work like this or would you rather have read it in a different way? Am I not giving you enough information?

I read a lottt of writing advice when I was first learning, and while most of it just made me want to stab one or multiple people, the one thing that stood out to me and changed everything for me was: 'Your readers are smarter than you think they are.' This resonates with me strongly still, even though I've learned at this point that this is not necessarily even true. SOMETIMES it is, 100%. But I've learned that the range of how much people catch and understand is far more enormous than I anticipated. I've had some very careful readers who are catching things in KMCB at the first single-phrase vague allusion to it, and I've had people I know have missed or not understood big things even by the end. And the same exact themes too.

This is one big thing that makes me hesitant to use a beta reader (in addition to not having any candidates yet) - that people's interpretations are literally all over the place and basing editing on one or two people's feedback could massively change the text and potentially in completely the wrong direction.

There's also a silly phenomenon I've noticed where people comment like 'wow I'm sure you didn't mean it this way but [exactly what I meant it as]' and it's like wht hahahahah what even. You think it just appeared there magically? I've seen people do this many times on here with Rowling's writing ('wow she accidentally made a whole elaborate critique of governmental corruption but she definitely didn't mean it that way') so I assume this is just a general misinterpretation, or maybe some people are out there writing major things without realizing it I don't know

[king-paimon]

Houseki no Kuni Chapter 106 Thoughts: Bon Voyage...

Hello all. I hope these last few months have been kind to you in some way. These months have been... a lot. Some very good things happened, and some very bad. I wish we lived in a world were tragedies were just fiction, but that sadly isn't the case. I won't elaborate, but I promise, I'm okay. I just hope 2024 improves, though I know for many others, just hoping isn't enough.

I'm sorry for this late post. Once again, real life had me so distracted that I honestly forgot about Houseki no Kuni's chapter coming out this month. I only remembered when I saw activity around my older HnK posts.

Well, I finished reading the chapter and it was very beautiful and sad in different ways. I'll share more of my thoughts, though I don't think it'll be as long or detailed as my previous ones to be honest... Though I could be wrong! We'll see how it fairs. And who knows? Maybe I'll make another post to dissect this chapter further. But for now, I'll just write whatever comes to mind and try to make it as coherent as possible. I hope you like it. And as always, please feel free to share your own thoughts!

Here we go!

Thunderous Spectacle: The Final Journey

Once again, Ms. Haruko Ichikawa decided to flex her art skills by making beautiful, bombastic illustrations that encapsulates the chaos that is happening on Earth. And the ship departing looks straight out of a sci-fi movie; my mind went to Star Trek when I first saw those pages. Maybe Dune would be more appropriate; I actually don't know, I haven't read or watched Dune, though I hear it's very good.

I wish I had more to say about the visuals for this chapter, but I think they speak for themselves. I will say though...It's moments like this when I marvel... this was originally about a silly gem child trying to find their place in the world. And this is how their journey is finally coming to an end. Almost nothing is recognizable. This certainly was not how I thought this story, or specifically Phos' story, was going to unfold. I wonder if this was Haruko Ichikawa's plan from the beginning? Who can say...

Speaking of plans... Let's talk about Phos's and Eyeball's conversation.

Manipulation or Consideration: Humanity's Parting "Gift"

That was an interesting conversation Eyeball and Phos had when they were finishing up putting the little pebbles onto the ship. I think I remember stating in the last post how I thought it was odd that the Lunarians had this ship prepared for Phos. I'm glad this was somewhat addressed, but the conversation reveals that there was more behind this literal Deus ex Machina ship.

(I will never stop calling it that)

So if I'm understanding Eyeball's logic, Adamant and the Lunarians were considering Phos in the end? That after Phos fulfilled their last duties to the remnants of humanity that they'd be given the chance to leave the planet with whatever species came about before the planet died- Oh. Wait.

Wait.

Was this the thing that Adamant and Aechmea were alluding to back in chapter 96???

Oh my goodness, I think it was.

As I was typing this and going over some of the saved pages I had from the previous chapters, I saw the one with Euclase and I suddenly remembered their weird conversation with Adamant and Aechmea. I also remembered wondering what the heck they meant in the later chapters since their plan for Phos seemed to only be self serving.

HUH.

( Please let me know if I'm way off! For all I know, I could be making stuff up, but oh my goodness, when I made that connection AAaahh)

This was not how this portion was originally going to go, but there you go. I was going to talk about how twisted but not surprising how calculated everything was from the the Lunarians and the other ruminants of humanity's end. And I was also going to mention how the Doctor also fit into this since she was also calculated and manipulative in her own ways. Despite the different forms it takes, humanity didn't seem to change much in this world...

I was also going to originally say that the Deus ex machina ship feels like a backhanded "gift" for Phos, especially after everything that happened to them. And though I still feel that way, after thinking back to chapter 96, I'm now starting to see Phos's perspective of this gift. That despite everything that they put them through, Phos's former families still left this parting gift for them so they could live on elsewhere after they are long gone and when Phos was free from their duties. It's still a backhanded gift in my opinion, but it showed that they cared... at least a bit.

And the fact that their plan also included Eyeball is just wow. I do not blame his small, comedic outburst for that realization. He was manipulated too from the getgo!

At least in the end, Phos chose not to go into the ship. Phos intended to burn that bridge. Even though this thought was implanted by Sensei, Adamant, and the Lunarians, Phos still made that choice on their own and they are owning it. It's bittersweet, though, because regardless of whether or not they stayed or went, Phos's decisions were still a result of them being manipulated one way or another. Pretty much a lose-lose kind of situation, but at least the choice that Phos chose in the end still aligned with what they wanted in they end.

They are giving Eyeball and the little pebbles a chance for a fresh start while Phos can finally end the cycle... By taking humanity and himself to bitter end...

Or does he?

Goodnight, Phosphophyllite

The final farewell between Phos and Eyeball was touching. In a last minute decision to give Phos closure and in an act of true salvation, Eyeball took the last piece of Phos with him. The true remaining piece of Phosphophyllite. To me, this action felt more earnest and heartwarming than the Deus Ex Machina Ship (but that's just me).

What will happen with that piece of Phosphophyllite? Who knows? Maybe that piece will gain sentience and live a peaceful life with the pebbles? A life free of all the constraints as well as the freedoms that was intentionally and unintentionally reinforced within societies created by the former remnants of humanity? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

As for the Phos that was left behind? The Phos that we've watch evolve from the beginning to end? They will finally rest.

They will finally, and truly be free.

(Albeit in a seemingly not so pleasant way?? Well, they weren't complaining so maybe the lava and other harsh elements isn't hurting them. I hope that's the case.)

I had the feeling that this chapter will be the last time we see Phos, or at least this version of Phos, and it would be a sad but proper send off.

But after seeing THIS at the end, I'm not so sure:

Of course Haruko Ichikawa decides to be cheeky with that little note. Ma'am. Why did you say this???

Is this her roundabout way of saying that Phos is kind of back to square 1? Of being the lonely, jobless Phos who no longer has a purpose and is left with nothing to do but "think." That's pretty funny/messed up joke if that's what she's hinting at.

But again, we'll have to wait and see.

WELP. That's all I have for you all. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings and I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter. We're nearly at the end of this saga. We're are almost there...

Please be worth it.

[mysticsparklewings]

Karla Choupette, but make her Winx!

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It’s been so long since I posted art, I kinda forgot how to caption it 😅

So I’ll stick with facts: Exactly 1 year ago today, I brought home my very first Rainbow High doll, Karla Choupette. Shortly after, I wanted to draw her, and since I was on a roll with Winx-Club-Style art at the time, this is the result! 🤍

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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This won't be much of surprise to Sparklers that read my most recent Museletter, but to those that didn't: Hi! Longtime no art; How've you been? 👋 😅 If you're curious about how & where I've been, I'm going to direct you to that Museletter for the full details.

Also as you'll see in the Museletter, I had actually started on and mostly finished this piece right before my accidental half-year hiatus actually began (in December). There are many reasons (discussed at length in the Museletter) as to why I've held onto this piece for so long, but chief among them are 1. A lack of motivation to type this description and 2. Even months later, I was still not 100% sure about the background I originally picked out.

We'll talk more about the background in a bit. Firstly, especially for those that didn't read the Museletter, I should probably tell you who/what exactly this is and why you're staring at it. 😆

This lady, dear Sparklers, is one Karla Choupette of Shadow High, which is a...sub-line? I guess is the best way to put it? of the Rainbow High doll line. Except, per my usual art shenanigans, she's been drawn in the Winx Club art style. 😅

Karla is also known as: The Doll that Broke My (also unintentional) 5-6 year Doll Buying Hiatus. And in fact, that was the final key to me dusting off my typing fingers to finally bring this art to you Sparklers today.

I'll try and keep this story brief, but...Well, loyal Sparklers know how me and "brief" usually go, so I'll just apologize in advance for how very not-brief this actually will be...

In a way, this story starts in 2016 with the second generation of Monster High.

The first generation of Monster High was, pretty indisputably, my "true doll love" even though until it's beginning in 2010 I'd been raised on mostly Barbie and some Bratz. But the second generation was almost completely canned by the fan base, including me.

By 2018, most Monster High merchandise had disappeared from stores entirely. It all happened so fast for a franchise that had been such a lightning-in-a-bottle success before; It was depressing. (It's still depressing, to be completely honest, even with G3 now alive and well.)

And after that, for years the was really nothing for me in the doll space. With Monster High and Ever After High gone, Barbie's quality having taken a nosedive, Bratz's presence be wildly inconsistent...Whatever options were left either didn't appeal to me personally or didn't stick around long enough for that to matter.

So for the next few years, my attention in the toy aisle was pretty squarely on Shopkins, Num Noms, and the occassional other surprise toys that tempted me enough to try at least once. 🤷‍♀️

In 2020 (so I've been told by the internet—I couldn't have remembered the date if my life depended on it because that's how little attention I was paying to them at the time), Rainbow High dolls started appearing in store. And I do believe I remember seeing them in-store, possibly even an enclosed display. And I remember really not liking them at the time!

And I didn't like what I saw of Rainbow High for a considerably amount of time after that. But somehow, someway, I did very slowly start to come around to them. I think the biggest factor was when I started to understand that despite what sounded like a cutesy name to me, Rainbow High was not effectively a line of CareBears dressed as teenage girls.

Though, at this stage, when I say "come around to," I really mean I stopped viewing the line with active disdain. It would take a while longer of random images popping up on my Instagram and Pinterest feeds (mostly Instagram) before I started to think, "Oh well maybe I'd buy one if xyz..."

But I don't think it was too much longer after the "if xyz" phase that I was browsing around on Pinterest

And there, that was the moment—*Gasp*, Who is she? She looks like Ivy if Ivy were pink! She's so pretty!!

Karla Choupette had appeared.

And for the record, yes—I did and still do think Karla looks a lot like what I envision for my Winx OC Ivy aside from the pink coloring. So if in the future you see me draw Ivy and her outfit looks suspiciously familiar, now you'll know why!

But, to be fair, that's not the only thing about Karla's design that appeals to me. The stark contrast of colors is one for sure, as well as the slight contrast of the punk-ish boots with the more formal/business-like dress/top situation. And after I did (spoiler alert) bring Karla home, I realized she bears some resemblance to one of my favorite Monster High dolls of all-time, Zomby Gaga, so there was almost definitely some subconscious influence coming from that.

Anyway. It was a little bit of a slow burn, but eventually the desire to actually get a Karla doll was rattling around in my head so loudly it was was very nearly literally keeping me up at night.

I completely lucked out in the timeline that Karla had already been out for a while at that point and last year's Amazon Prime Day wasn't too far around the corner. Sure, I could have just bought her at any time, but considering I'd been out of the doll-buying game a while and my "first doll back" was going to be one completely unlike the rest of my collection [..and I use that term kind of loosely here], so I didn't want to put too much money on the line when it was fully possible I'd get her home and unboxed and decide I didn't actually like her all that much.

The funny thing is, the story could've even there. Or at least taken a significant detour. Because, sure enough, Amazon did mark Karla down for Prime Day at the time, but before I could go through with the purchase, she sold out. 🙃

On a whim though, I decided to check Walmart a little later in the day, and lo and behold—Apparently they really wanted to compete with Amazon for sales that week, so they'd dropped their price on Karla to match and actually still had her in stock!

I ordered her for local pickup to avoiding paying for shipping, and the next day—Exactly one year ago today!—Karla came home with me. [And you can see a picture of my exact Karla in that Museletter I mentioned before, for those curious!]

It would be another couple of days before I actually opened her; Both in the store when we picked her up and while I was opening her, I was honestly a little scared that physically being able to hold her would somehow break whatever magic hold this doll had had over me up until either point.

But as you can probably guess by the way I'm telling this story and the fact that this art exists—Nope! And even a year and 20 (...soon to be 21...) more Rainbow/Shadow High dolls later, Karla is still my favorite. She is, in fact, the only one I currently have 2 of, as I found an incomplete-but-in-great-shape Karla for cheap on eBay about a month later.

To be fair, I should back up a bit and clarify: If you're familiar with the doll space, you may be wondering why/how Karla was the buying-hiatus-breaker for me even though Monster High G3 started releasing new dolls in 2022.

Technically I suppose she wasn't because I did get some of the MH G3 dolls and Howliday Draculaura for Christmas 2022, but for space/storage related reasons, it would be much longer before I actually opened any of my new MH dolls, and there were various aspects that made G3 still feel kind of rocky and uncertain at the time.

Karla was the one that really sparked my excitement for dolls in general again, though the excitement manifested as a rolling snowball instead of a roaring fire—I started out, as many doll fans across all brands have, insisting Karla would be the "only" Rainbow High doll I wanted/needed.

And if you'll remember I quoted a collection of 20 Rainbow High dolls a few paragraphs ago, then you'll already know exactly how that well-intended insistence turned out. 😆 [And this isn't even touching on the fact that, as also mentioned in the Museletter, that Karla and the Rainbow High girls also ignited a "make things for the dolls from scratch" spark in me that I have felt in...Mm, probably not since the earliest days of Monster High, sometime before 2013.]

Some of you are also now probably doing the math on how we arrived at the concept for this artwork—This is very much not the first (or even second or third) time that I've used the Winx Club art style as a vessel to express my love for some other thing.

It's been a while since the idea began by now, but I remember I had inklings of wanting to draw Karla for a while—I think in particular I wanted to play with Karla's white eyelashes in illustrated form since it's both something I've never seen on a doll before and also white eyelashes in general are just a unique and interesting concept to me—And since I was sorta on a roll with the Winx Club stuff/style, it wasn't too long or too far of a leap in logic to decide this is the way it would be done.

Likewise, if you've seen any of my most-recent Winx art, you'll already be fairly familiar with my process for how the art comes together in the most literal senses. So because of that and because it has been long enough that I don't remember finer details like areas that were particularly tricky so well, I'm going to skip over a lot of that here.

However, I do remember and can tell you a few things that make Karla here a little different from some of those other attempts of mine, so I will now start rambling about that in whatever order things come to mind.

Firstly and possibly the most obvious, Karla you could say Karla's wasn't "Winx-fied" as intensely as Helena or The Nanny, which was a very purposeful choice. I love Karla's original design so much that I really didn't want to touch it too much, and so while a fairy form like those other two artworks can often be more fun, I opted to keep Karla "casual."

To that end, I followed what patterns and "rules" I've observed for the Winx's Season 2-3 "casual outfits" as best I could without making any serious alterations. [The linked screenshot isn't the best example of said patterns/rules—You kinda have to take in multiple screenshots to get the best feel for that—but it's a decent enough point of reference for which outfits I'm talking about.]

So the main thing you'll notice are the things I took away or simplified because I think thy pushed Winx Club's style "limits" a bit too far—Karla has her fan but it's missing the word "Shadow" across the front, the zippers on her shoes aren't well-defined, the charm/pin from her tie is missing, you can't see the pinstripes on her dress (though if this were meant to be the Seasons 2-3 promo art style and not true-to-show style, I would've left those in)...things like that.

I did make small exceptions for things I felt would take away too much if I left them out like the details on her belt, the buckles on her boots, giving her eyeshadow, etc. But I tried to balance it all out. The belt is probably still pushing it, but I genuinely wasn't sure how else to handle it and I think everything else worked out well enough.

Now, I did make the decision to approach the line work more so how Season 4 would do it—There are more colored lines here than is really typical for Season 3, especially when you count Karla's hair. This was mostly done to try and preserve some of Karla's own "feel" when you look at her, but also a little for contrast of the different elements/textures at play. [For example, I thought lining her hair in black would look too harsh.]

...I should also probably mention that while I still stand by Karla looking a lot like what I want for Ivy, I really was focused on trying to capture Karla as herself here—I can't say Ivy never entered my mind during the drawing process because that's kind of impossible given that she lives and dies entirely in my imagination, but I did not consciously at any point use Ivy as reason or justification for any changes made to Karla's design.

Oh, and if this pose feels a little familiar, much like with Fran, I opted to re-use a pose I'd already been working with around the time I started this project. It's hard to tell from my sketches in the linked image, but in this case I did decide to re-draw the arms to nearly the opposite position because it made figuring out what to do with her fan so much easier.

Ironically, this pose is not at all the best way to get a good look at her white eyelashes, but I worked with what I had to make something nice without it taking 2-3 (or more) times as long, so I'm not actually too upset about that.

You could say that's sorta what happened with the background—I can't say this is my most favorite background I've ever put together, but I really did not have any better ideas, so...🤷‍♀️

Maybe it's obvious, maybe it's not, but I decided to try combining a design formula that's been used in a lot of the Rainbow High boxes as a background (and sometimes in other promotional material) with some general ideas from promotional images/profiles you may have seen of the Winx before.

So if you thought you were seeing Alfea castle edited into a rainbow gradient back there, you would be absolutely right. 😉

This is also why Karla's name is just kinda randomly hanging out over there on a "true to show style"—It's a little more consistent with the Winx profiles/images and added a little extra something I felt was missing from the full package.

And while not my primary motivation, I did kind of like the idea that with a background situation like this, if I decide I ever want to draw more Winxify-ed Rainbow High girls, I can re-use it and have them all a little more visually united as a series.

I have no current plans to do that, but I like being able to leave the door open for it, y'know?

...I think those are all the main things I wanted to mention. This is the real trouble with not writing these descriptions as soon as I'm able—I forget too much! But there's not much to be done about it now, so oh well I guess.

In such case, the important thing really is that I'm still happy with how the art turned out. Or at least Karla and some of the other details. Even at this very moment I still have my quibbles and doubts with the image of Alfea hanging out back there, but at this point I really don't want to put off uploading this any longer solely because of that, of all things.

Since I did find it in me to scramble what was left of this description together though, coupled with things I mentioned in that last Museletter, I really hope this means I've finally turned some kind of internal corner and and that it won't be another block of months before you Sparklers see more art from me.

At the very least, I can now say I've tried this new submission portal from dA and...It's not my beloved Sta.sh, but...eh, it's okay I guess. I still miss my editing/formatting tools being more available like in a proper text editor, but in some ways I do think I like this better than the previous submission portal, if I'm going to be forced to type out my descriptions in here from now on.

I think at least knowing that—that I'm marginally more familiar with this new portal now—will be a step in the right direction.

One last thing before I leave you Sparklers for today—I plan to give this description a once-over before I submit, but I've written most of it late at night after a busy shopping day and may or may not have caught myself almost dozing off a couple of times, so on top of my faulty memory, if you notice any exceptionally weird mistakes, that's probably where those came from and I missed them on my second read-through. 😅

In any case, Sparklers, I thank you for still being here and being patient with me—Like I said before, I sincerely hope this is just the beginning of me finally being "back," at least for a while, but ultimately only time will tell if it is or not.

But if it is, then I expect to see you all again much sooner rather than later...😉

----------

Artwork © me, MysticSparkleWings

Karla Choupette/Rainbow High © MgA Entertainment

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[niseag-reads]

Ouch my brain /pos - a ramble

Right. I want to say something sensible about this book, but I have been reading it since January, and I would be damned if I remembered what happened in the first half of it in any detail. This is a ramble/review for "Forges of Mars." the full trilogy. by Graham McNeill

Taking so long to read it was not the books fault. Indeed, that was me running into burnout and being preoccupied with university stuff. But being somewhat less than fully emerged in this book probably didn't help the book at all.

There are so many characters, holy shit. And some of their names are so similar! Hawke and Hawkins come to mind. Additionally, characters will be named by their first name, last name, or nicknames and keeping apart who is who is no joke. The dramatis personae provided is somewhat useful, but annoying when you have to refer to it too often. this does come with the caviat that I do, as a rule, not really remember names (I think it's the autism) making this all the more difficult to me. Where characters are diverse enough in their thinking and acting i will be able to tell them apart by that, but for side and background characters that really doesnt work.

With this, there are also multiple storylines, and my issue with that in many books is that there is always some I prefer over the others and then I get annoyed when they switch to the ones I do not care for as much. Also because I often didn't immediately know where we were jumping to. it really grated my gears that when a POV switch happened it wasn't always immediately clear whose POV the book had switched to, causing moments of confusion. Perhaps if i remembered which names belonged to what people it would be easier, but sadly it was not. for fairness, I was reading the ebook. Maybe this is clearer in the paper version.

In this trilogy, I found myself intrigued by the characterisation of the mechanicus characters whom I wanted to stick with, only to be forced to read about these other groups as well... if I wanted to read space marines, I'd have picked up one of their books, you know? Regardless, the arcs of kotov, linya, and tychon were all very interesting to me, and eventually, around the second book, I started to appreciate locke as well. The way the warhounds were written actively annoyed me, but I am someone who has read a lot of books involving (were)wolves, and my expectations from that may have influenced how I looked upon these chapters. the many POVs in this book felt somewhat unnessecary, too, like, I am unsure what the marines or the warhound POVs truly added to the storytelling. I get why there was both mechanicus and bondsman perspective though, that was a very interesting and clever choice in worldbuilding that allowed the reader to see the two ends of the coin when it comes to the runnings of a mechanicus expedition. the eldar perspective was not one I cared for much, but I do not fault the book for including it because it did definitely add a completely different angle to everything going on in this book.

The last book in the series is significantly more intense and action-packed than the other two, which I had not expected. It solidifies the feeling of a finale, I suppose, especially since the other two books lacked proper ending points. I thus believe that this was written as one very long book that was chopped into threes for marketability. That's not a negative, just an observation. the final confrontation is a-tier. very good, very satisfying. Galatea deserved worse. All in all, this was a decent enough experience and I can see why some people go wild for the characters in this book, they're very good. I left this review sitting in my drafts for so long I forgot where I was going with it. anyways. 3.5 stars. do recommend, but is very long and requires brain.

[starrywangxian]

hello i am here to remind you that lan wangji did not wait for wei wuxian for 13/16 years because wei wuxian died. (now with edits!)

people don't come back from death! what happened to wei wuxian was the first time it had ever happened and probably the only time i would happen (at least in a long time) because the riutal can only be done under certain conditions, i.e. someone has to be willing to sacrifice themself, you have to call a spirit that is vicious enough etc. and most importantly, lan wangji had no idea about any of it being a possibility! [edit: only four people had used to ritual before mo xuanyu - so my point still stands i just forgot that detail - source: "only three or four examples [of using the sacrificial ritual] have been proven to be true" novel chapter 2]

lan wangji did not wait because waiting implies that he knew wei wuxian would come back, which he didn't because he died. he spent those 13/16 years mouring and taking care of lan sizhui, the only connection he still has with wei wuxian. he spent those years preparing to spend the rest of his life in mourning and wearing white mourning robes!

he played inquiry [edit: lan wangji does this in the donghua, consider that canon or fanon] to try to talk to wei wuxian but lan wangji's cultivation and skill with the qin language is so powerful that spirits he calls must answer him truthfully! so when he'd call for wei wuxian and get no answer: that was his proof that he had died. then he would ask other spirits if they knew what happened to wei wuxian, where he was, how he was etc. none of them knew anything about wei wuxian. [edit: spirits cannot lie to lwj when he uses inquiry (as seen in chapter 22: "Under his [lwj's] control, the spirit who came was unable to lie, and had definitely been answering the truth.") and lsz reveals that some people have the power to ensure spirits must answer in chapter 37: "the spirit that i summon will be able to avoid answering, but will not be able to lie. so, if it is willing to answer, then it will definitely speak the truth." this doesn't exactly mean that lwj has this skill but when speaking with jin ling, it says that lwj has mastered qin language in chapter 22: "As he mastered the language, without any hesitation, Lan WangJi confidently played a few limpid notes."]

because wei wuxian hasn't born to a sect, he didn't go through the rituals to make sure his spirit would reincarnate so when he died he turned into a spirit but because even his spirit was torn apart by ghosts and demons he was unable to do anything. [edit: i worded this weirdly - i was trying to say that the ritual prevented people from becoming ghosts and that wwx didn't have this ritual because he was the son of a servant and wasn't raised in a sect. this is mentioned in chapter 60: "disciples of famous clans, like Jiang FengMian and Yu ZiYuan, had been affected by their clan and their clan’s treasures since they were young. When they grew up, they’d receive countless soul-calming ceremonies so that there was only a miniscule chance of them becoming ferocious ghosts. But Wei WuXian was different. He was the son of a servant. He didn’t grow up in the Jiang Sect since birth, either. He didn’t have the chance to go through so many ceremonies. If after he really died with too much resentful energy and became a ferocious ghost to haunt them, it’d be quite a pain."] he spent those 13/16 years being fully unconscious and aware of what was happening but not having the power to do anything about it. he was in literal hell for 13/16 years! [edit: this you'll have to bare with me because i read it in a tweet and can no longer find it ;-; basically it stated what i said] so no spirits knew what happened to him and he couldn't answer to lan wangji's inquiry!

in conclusion, lan wangji did not wait!! [edit: it's still wrong to say that lwj waited for wwx even if i got stuff wrong lmao]

[hotarutranslations]

Bread Fest 2025

Evening

Bread Fest

I went! Thats right, I had wanted to go!

I got to go,

But since it was my first time I underestimated it..

I didn't do anythingggg first thing in the morning⚠️

For lunch, I was like, lets try going to the bread fest✊🏻

Therefore,

A lot of what I was looking forward to, was already sold out😂😂

Limited edition bread, things that were popular, It looks like many of those things, Sold out from the first batch..

I hadn't don't enough research..

But going to the venue, I met a lot of things like, I want to eat that! So I totallyyy had fun🐣🌟

I felt the strongest about,

Couronne-san's, Pan au vin🍷🍷🍷

Its made with red wine in the dough, Full of raisins soaked in red wineee, I was interested when it was introduced to me..🤤

(Eh, I just found out now, pan au vin is red wine bread, it was originally a type of bread, I had no idea…)

I love hard types of bread!

Like, The kinds that have dried fruits and nuts included! I like to eat crispy toasted baguettes, I especially like the edges everyone avoids!

This pan au vin, You can tell its full of raisins just from looking at it,

You know.. Its like a leopard print that was raisins () I was happy

It smelled good, the raisins were plump, it was delicious😋

No doubt, I'll eat it with cream cheese next time

Lycka-san's scones, Hojicha and chocolate.. Jasmine and orange..

Really, what I had in mind was, The early grey and lemon scone and the pistachio scones..but.. There was so much I forgot about them, The two I chose were delicious and I was very satisfied🥲🫶🏻

Ah,

I couldn't buy it..I took a photo😂😂 lolol

I supperrrr liked them..

In particular the jasmine!

Just recently, with my mother, I had a delicious jasmine cookies, Jasmine is delicious, right, Although its rare, Its not like its a fragrance, This jasmine really, Its really delicious, I love it!

I found it in time, Since it was a jasmine and orange scone, I had high hopes for it, since I reallyyyy like jasmine🩵🩵

Wait was it last year that I liked jasmine so much (when my costumes that were increasingly super long pants)? It was a coincidence

Lycka-san, Is a shop from Aichi..

They sometimes are at events in Tokyo so,

I'll go!!!!! (Please don't look for the wrong one) (Don't write that you'll go)

The scones as a standalone, I don't know why its like this but, I like this kind of scone--! I personally got into it

.🤤🫶🏻

What I had been looking forward to, Khanom Pang-san's kumquat & caramel pecan

Since that is what I was looking for, I seriously wanted to eat it, It isn't time for me to eat it yet←

I'm keeping it tightly sealed and frozen❄️ lol

I'll eat it in when I want it

At the same Khanom Pang-san, Their sesame & cumin seed hard bread, was realyyy hard, and had a lotttt of cumin, Its the best for spice lovers

I haven't tasted it yet I also sliced and froze it❄️

..I don't need to be giving so much detail lololol

GARDEN HOUSE CRAFTS-san's, Sweet potato and apple crumble egg tart

With this, I ate it with Duu on the bench immediately It was so sweet potato-y🍠🍠

I also recently, made sweet potatos, and made a cake with a crumble on top so, I tasted it while thinking "I see--" comparing handemade and professionally made lol

(picture)

Really, Posting it now,

Sorry I only took pictures for the record

This blog as well, Surely I'll look back on it someday, I'm sorry, its almost a record

Thank you very much for reading🎈

Tomorrow, I hope that the world will be peaceful

⋆͛📢⋆

March 19th RaiBoC Hall Dai Hall "Ishida Ayumi FC Event 2025 Spring ~Nice To Meet You, Its Been A While~"

→Same Day Ticket Reception🎈

New National Theater Tokyo Small Theater Reading Drama "BLINK"

YouTube

💛 DELISH KITCHEN Time Machine No.3-san's Cooking Improvement Committee ~Why Don't We Make This Tonight?~

I'll be appearing as a guest on Wednesday in March🐣🌟

The first time will be on March 5th (Wed) at 3:00PM~ Delish Kitchen Official YouTube Stream

Sendai Broadcast Ara Ara Kashiko "Ishida Ayumi Goes! Exam"

I danced to all of the singles I participated in "Da-nce practice ver."

Each of My SNS💙

✍🏻Instagram ✍🏻X ✍🏻M-line club

[nine-blessed-hero]

Greetings After a Long Departure

Universe: TESIV: Oblivion Warnings: None Words: 1014 Context: A gameplay event I remembered, and wanted to write out - see below fic for details Taglist (ask +/-): @writeblrsupport @jacquesfindswritingandadvice

It's been a few years since… Everything. Maybe many. Time has passed and Rowan has stopped counting.

Time enough that when xe teaches the rookies how to shoot, xir shoulder and elbow joints pop. Time enough that xe has become a Master of Alchemy; that xe is expanding xir repertoire and learning how to move in heavy armour.

There is always more to learn, xe tells the apprentice Mages. You never stop honing your skills, xe tells the Fighters Guild hot-shots. There's always someone who can teach you fresh ideas, recent papers to study, some new knack to discover.

Rowan – leading by example – is in the Imperial City proper for the first time in… oh, probably a year? Time enough to notice that the fresh white stone of the Market District, replaced after Everything, is now dull and grey; that the joyful colours splashed around the Arena in his honour are faded and chipped; that the Arboretum is not as deftly pruned as it once was. But xe is not here to critique the architecture. Xe has heard word and whisper of someone even better at the art of stealth than xe and is hoping they are willing to teach xir.

It is to xir horror then, that Armand tells xir xe is looking for the Imperial Spymaster, Marana Rian, found in the Temple District. Rowan who takes the most circuitous route to the Waterfront; Rowan who has not set foot in the Temple District since Everything was over; Rowan who makes airs of not recalling what happened That Night when asked, but will not deign to look in that direction should xe catch sight of a marble toothed maw over the walls.

But perhaps it has been time enough. Time enough for a heart to heal. Time enough xe can think about That Night without frailty overtaking xir limbs. Time enough that xe went back to see him.

Xir foot rings off the cobbles of the Temple District. It's impossible not to see him, life-like twisted marble. Xir heart lurches. A guard looks curiously at xir, as a palid hand gropes for the wall. Xe flashes a sickly smile. Xe almost turns, running back to the safety of hearth and home. But no – it has been time enough. Xe straightens xir tunic and goes forth.

Xe's greeted, as xe enters the Temple, by a fresh-faced novice. No lines of care on their scaled face, only nubs of burgeoning horns ridging their brow. When the novice asks xir business, xe gestures to the statue, feet tucked in with garlands and offerings. The novice clearly doesn't recognise xir, taking xir to be some distant pilgrim, as they jabber about That Night while leading xir towards the statue.

He is bigger than xe remembers. With his wings held aloft and head thrown back, he takes up most of the space in the not-small temple. So tall, once they stop at the edge of the field of offerings, xe barely comes up to his knee. Rowan feels lost, for a moment, craning xir head back as if it were possible, this close, to see all of him; and wonders how xe forgot he was the size of a building.

Xe can touch it if xe wants, the novice says. It's just a statue. Tests were done; it's perfectly safe. From here they can see the shimmer on one claw, worn smooth and shiny by many hands and many prayers. He isn't there. That's what they'd told xir after the tests were concluded. Still – the need to give some recognition to the man transformed gnaws in xir breast.

The novice natters on as Rowan picks a way through the flowers and offerings, but xe doesn't hear, recalling only that last conversation; the way he made it sound as if he were taking a trip – not too far, not too long. Finds xe knows just what to do.

Rowan takes a breath. Smiles. "Hello, you." Reaches out as if to cup his cheek. "Read any good books lately?" Xir fingers skim the statue. A soft and golden sunlight finds xir. Xe feels warm and full; content as if after a hearty meal in the company of loved ones. In xir mind, a noise like the bones of the world sliding past each other; words, perhaps, but they're so slow and bass xe doesn't understand – can only let them resonate through xir being.

Slowly the incandescence fades; the sense of a lingering hug, reluctantly parted from. Xe's left feeling comforted; the grind of everyday lifted and lightened. As if things will start going better for xir, and everyone is a potential new friend.

When Rowan turns, xe finds a small crowd gathered behind xir. The novice is gaping. Several people are in prayerful stances. Xe can hear the word 'miracle' being uttered. "What-? But the- It's never-," the novice stutters, their eyes flaring wide. "Who are you?" Before Rowan can speak, the crowd speaks for xir, calling out xir titles: Fighters Guildmaster, Archmage, Champion– "The Hero of Kvatch!"

Well, shit.

Rowan smiles, picks xir way back through the collection of offerings. "I apologise for having interrupted your afternoon," xe says. "But… the Statue-" Rowan raises xir voice, knowing that the crowd will just make up some half-truth otherwise. "They told me, 'he's gone'. They told me it was just a statue, and the man I watched transform into our saviour was no longer on Mundus. I guess they weren't quite correct." Xe swallows to stop xir voice from cracking and glances back at the statue. "He's still here, in his own way. He's always been here, patient as ever, awaiting my return." Xe turns fully now, damp eyes cast aloft. "I'm sorry, Martin. Time and again, you've waited for me; it's been time enough. I promise I won't be so long again."

Warmth stirs again, a lingering caress, drawing a sweet smile from xir. Rowan presses a small bag of coins into the novice's hand – "To keep up the Temple's good works." – and leaves the congregation to its awed colloquy.

–––

So: I'd somehow missed all the spoilers about the Blessings of Akatosh from the Avatar statue, and when I went to find Marana Rian, many gameplay hours after completing the MQ, I got a sudden rush of nostalgia and went to look at the statue (I, like Rowan, maaay have been avoiding the area a bit. Y'know - MQ was ended, I had no real reason to go back there). Noticing the 'activate' fist, I did so and was pleasantly surprised by the Blessings. I later read a headcanon that this is a gift from Martin, an apology/ "love letter", only given to the Hero and unavailable to anyone else in Cyrodiil, which I really liked the sound of - hence why I've made it clear that to everyone else, it is just a statue; it's not until Rowan returns, that xe learns the truth.

[95jezzica]

Your replies are closed, so I'll send this as an ask instead. I strongly agree with your idea of "Canon-Canon Nyo Nations", where the male and female characters represent regional cultures within the same country instead of making the female nations a "dream universe" gimmick. Expanding on this idea, what do you think about OCs who represent regions of the same nation? I would think it's a logical next step because 2 characters per country still wouldn't be enough to represent all regional cultures.

[Picture ID: Jamtland send an additional ask which says: "Whoops, I forgot to include this part in my first ask about "Canon-Canon Nyo Nations". What are your ideas for which regional cultures the female Nordics would represent, and what would the differences between them and the male Nordics? Picture ID End].

Oh yeah, sorry, the replies are still turned off. I have a post which seems to summon a lot of hateful idiots, so eventually I got too annoyed by it and turned off replies.

For the rest I will preface my answer with the fact I saw you're also Swedish on your profile, but I'll likely leave some extra information for any non-Swedes who might also read this, since I mostly use Sweden as an example. Also, fair warning to everyone: Long Post. [Below "Read More"].

For simplicity sake I've also choosen to just call nyo!Sweden Svea, and our canon-canon Sweden for... Well, Sweden.

Now, I personally don't make a lot of OCs unless they're humans or I'm making a human AU. (For an example I made Finland some "AU Parents", because I got REALLY tired of people always making Finland the orphan with no other family). With that said making OCs for regions and the likes is obviously still valid.

I also agree 2 personifications are too few for many countries, but I also understand why Hima wouldn't want to draw 3-100 characters for every country. Identity within a country is complicated too, because it depends a lot on who you're talking with as you describe your own identity.

If we take myself as an example. If I was talking with someone from another country I'd probably just say I'm European and/or Swedish, and perhaps mention I live on the west coast if they ask and/or seem more familiar with Swedish geography. If another Swede or Nordic asked I'd probably mention I live pretty close to Gothenburg - and if they live nearby I might go into more details, because my lil' hometown is small enough that there's no chance even other Swedes has heard of it unless they live somewhat close/have family in the area anyway.

My point is that it'd be difficult to make a representation for all kind of national-/regional-/state- identity within a country.

However, if we once again take Sweden as an example, I think (hws) Sweden would likely represent a lot of the middle/pretty far up in the west coast. Think the old Goths, and/or possibly Dalsland, Värmland, Dalarna.

Dalarna has the bonus of having a strong identity of their own in their region, and all three are placed close to (irl) Norway. It'd make sense how (hws) Norway and Sweden got to know each other early on then, but also how they might have met (hws) Denmark early.

Svea at the other hand is someone I view more as being further north-east, likely the literal ol' Svea, and someone I headcanon to have been among the first Swedish personification(s) to get into contact with the Finnish personifications.

It's weird though, because neither Sweden nor Svea really gives off "Stockholm vibes" (sorry non-Swedes/Nordics, I have no idea how to describe what "Stockholm vibes is) - but then again they are all based on Japanese stereotypes about the Swedes, so I guess it makes sense. x)

Another possibility I can imagine is the Swedish personifications in modern days being divided into something like this:

[Picture ID: A map of real life Sweden cut into three parts. From up to down: Norrland in strawberry red, Svealand in autumn leaf yellow, and Götaland in bright sea blue. End of Picture ID].

... with perhaps an additional personification for the far north and south. However, we have to keep in mind a lot of the far north of real life Sweden's lands would still be in the ice age early on and/or simply not be Swedish - and parts of what today is the real life far south Sweden would be with Denmark instead.

[Picture ID: An edited version of the previous picture, now with almost all of Norrland and the far south of Sweden faded out, since they weren't part of real-life Sweden at this point. Only a small part of south-east Norrland remains, now coloured and part of Svealand. The names are now also edited to say "North Swe" instead of "Norrland", "Svea" instead of "Svealand", and "1p!Sweden" instead of Götaland. End of Picture ID].

The picture above is a quick edit made by me and should by no means be used as a picture of research, so obviously not exact accuracy or anything, but it's a rough estimate of what (irl) Sweden would have looked like very early on, and also roughly what I headcanon (hws) 1p!Sweden and nyo!Sweden to represent/have represented respectively.

In history the Svea people more or less forced a union with the goths, but I headcanon (hws) Svea had absolutely no interest in working with the humans leaders and basically dumped all the responsibility and work on our (hws) Sweden instead. While Sweden was forced to work more closely with royals and leaders, Svea set to truly live like their people. That's not say say (hws) Sweden didn't interact with the "common people" at all, because he's a rebellious shit in his own right, but he was still forced to take on a lot of the responsibility and work with his leaders.

It didn't help that once Christianity was brought up in Scandinavia together with a less favourable view of women, 1p!Sweden no longer had a real choice than to take on the work. I think (hws) Svea moved back in with Sweden around the time Christianity became more common in Sweden (the lands and people), too. Partly because she felt guilty over having just dumped all the work and responsibility onto (hws) Sweden, but also because it was safer to live with someone she viewed and could claim as her brother. Svea would also have started out to (secretly) help Sweden out with work around this time, which only became official closer to modern days.

For the rest of the Swedish personifications I don't have a clear picture of what they'd look like, but the personification of "south-south" Sweden (in old days more viewed as "east Denmark") is likely around the same age as Denmark, Sweden and Svea, while the personification of Norrland is much younger than the rest of the Swedish personifications. I'd say (hws) Norrland likely didn't pop up until the Swedish population grew much bigger in the north and the Sami people were pushed further and further out in their lands by the Swedish population.

.

(cough). So I know I've basically only covered Sweden so far, but this post is already getting ridiculously long, so I will cheat a bit and refer you to @ifindus for Norway's regions instead. xD

[Again, art and OCs of the Norwegian regions made by @ifindus .]

Findus fully uses OCs for the regions to be fair, so I'm not entirely sure what I would make nyo!Norway represent since I really like Findus' OCs. x') . Maybe nyo!Norway could be more specifically the Oslo area? Because Oslo Norwegians are very different from Norwegians in the rest of Norway.

As generalization I'd say most of the Nordics probably have at least 3-5 personifications though, with one of them being the nyo. For an example Denmark might be divided into Jylland, Syddanmark, Sjælland, Hovedstaden - or it'd go a bit more detailed like cutting up Jylland in North & South like most maps.

(The Faroe & Greenland would obviously also have their own personifications, btw).

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Hope this was helpful, and sorry I didn't get to cover them all in the post! x)

If inspiration hits me I might make another posts with the rest of the Nordics in the future. \^w^/

[protectingtulpas]

Okay so im an (now ex) anti-endo (i still feel uncomfortable around endos but i guess now that not valid) who discover that im an tulpa.

For more context im the host of a complex polyfrag DID system who always belive endos jist fake for attention and hurt the real system comunity (traumagenic systems) and im just "exist" since this year 2020 i got a blackout of 2 years until 2023 and what the rest of the system tell me when i ask was "you got a colapse and lock yourself in your room for two years and fall in dormancy, when you finally get out you was so confused that you split in the fragment youre now and Gaby and so you cannot remember what happen because of that and Miyamoto (an alter friend of mine) was the host for that time" i got not reason to doubt about it an they have no reason to lie, they say the same thing to all our friends and even to my girlfriend.

I was looking arround of some old papers and pdfs and i find out that they have a diary and it was pretty old and one page have my sigh but the date its supposed to be in the time i was locked and some other papers was the same or some alters mention me like if i was there like really there.

Then i finally discover a paper with the tittle "[My name] (oc lore)

And pretty detailed pages about the process of creation of a tulpa and a character itself and descriptions very accurated about my body and personality plus a background history that its exactly like my memorys and thing about my gender and sexuality also accurate (i get offended for that because i really struggle with that) and and alter called Axel/Alex who i know he exist because and romantic history of the system while i was out but i supposed he was just a fragment of another alter and i discover that he was one of the "original alters" (i mean the result of the first split) and he created me like A TULPA, he say in his notes that the rest of the system is traumagenic and he discover them in therapy but whatever it means we have traumagenic origins but as long as i know im THE ONLY TULPA/ENDOGENIC/WILLOWGENIC ALTER (HEADMATE???) And one of the few that are anti-endo (the big problem there is that were least than 5 and those alters are my friends (probably not anymore)

I really need help of a tulpa to understand this because i have so many cuestions about this and i dont have so many tulpa friends exactly and i guess i have to change my mindset and i was wonder i can have your help...

Oh wow, yeah this is a ton, thank you for reaching out for real! Sorry it took a hot sec to respond, I've been blocked from front a lot myself so I wanted to be in tune enough to give this the response it deserves.

Alrightie, so we have P-DID (we're mixed origin too), so we don't have as much dissociation as y'all, but we do have a bit of experience with host changes and people blacking out/going dormant for waay longer than expected, so that's where we're coming from here. Especially with memory barriers so high, host switches can be really disorienting and some pretty big things can be forgotten depending on the system. It sounds like during the time there was a big host switch, you got created by Axel/Alex, but due to u being affected by the inherent dissociative barriers of your system, you forgot your early memories of being created - as evidenced by things being signed by you and mentions of you that you don't remember, if I'm reading this correctly. That's a lot to take in, but it's good to have all this evidence you can bring up to your alters in a discussion about it if you're able. I know it's probably freaking you out, but just asking the alters that mention you/worked on you in the papers instead of accusing them will do a lot to help with resistance and all. I'm sure they had a good reason for not saying anything to you.

That brings me to my second point; if a good chunk of you are intensely anti-endo, there's a good chance your memories of your creation/origin are blocked behind dissociative barriers because that knowledge woulda been too much for your system to process and bare at the time. Make sure to consider that in what ya do- try not to dump all the pressure on yourself, if you put yourself into a spiral about all this or try to force your other alters to do a 180 it might end up counterproductive. You're their equal, don't ever forget that; take it slow and steady. Things'll end up alright. On the flipside of this, there's a reason you exist, and you were created because somebody (Axel/Alex?) WANTED you here, and that's important. You have just as much a right to be here, and it's not a bad thing that you exist or to challenge the collective opinion of how things work. That's what growing and changing is all about!!

You don't hafta jump full force into the endogenic community of course, take your time and don't overwhelm yourself. I think you'll enjoy a term we're extremely attached to: traumaendo systems are systems that experience both traumagenic and endogenic origins in one way or another, and the label is focused on the specific unique experiences we go through while straddling both worlds. Tulpamancy is particular is controversial because it started out as a separate community developing their own skills before coming into contact with the greater plural community, so you'll find that a lot of terms within it are different and stuff. Additionally, you'll probably run into a lotta controversies, specifically the infamous one about tulpamancy's etymological origin, so make sure to keep your head on your shoulders and put research and objectivity first. Don't forget that we've asked people actually of the culture about this, and that the etymological origin is of an open religion that encourages their meditations be shared and adapted. People will make up anything to try and keep us hated, but don't let it stop you. You're not hurting anyone by existing as u are.

And lastly? Take care of urself. There're a lot of little intricacies I can't predict because everything is different from system to system, but if you pay attention and work as a team with your alters, you'll start to see patterns and understand yourself more. You might find that you operate a bit differently than them, you might not, but regardless, there's no shame in your existence. If you have any more questions, go ahead and shoot me a DM privately- I'll see what I can do. Good luck out there, stay true to yourself

[madsims4finds]

Me when they canceled life by you:

I just KNEW there was something fishy. I was happy for the delays cause the game just looked undercooked and so the cancellation…was a surprise, I’m not gonna lie lol. But once the initial shock wore off, I just shook my head. It’s giving they didn’t want to suffer through another launch like Cities Skylines 2.

I’ve said from the beginning that Life By You did not look good. It did not have any practical features that I could see that would make gameplay enjoyable. No family play, empty world, and whenever a “human” went to work at apparently the only place hiring in town, the grocery store, it was like 2 other “humans” there. I mean those gameplay videos they were doing just got hard to watch. The game just seemed like it would be dead on arrival. And then on top of all that, a company like Paradox is releasing early access. Red flags all around. I wrote a dissertation I’m sure no one read, but there were too many things that I could see Paralives doing right that Life By You was doing wrong. Something as simple as being creative enough to come up with a name for these digital people. We have Zoi’s, we have Paras, we have Sims, and Life by You had…humans? How lazy is that? I get that it’s a life simulation game but there should still be some form of lore. Something that the world is grounded in. Something unique and immediately recognizable that makes the game stand out. And Life by You never had that. Their whole gimmick was “mod the game” how you like. But like I said before it was more about being able to deeply customize your game, not mod it. At least from what we were seeing. They made such a big deal about custom dialogue, story creator, color wheels, tailoring your characters personality to the most minute detail, etc. But they forgot to develop the rest of the game. At least that’s what it sounds like to me.

Devs are saying they were blindsided, which they probably were. I don’t think the game should have been canceled out right, but I think paradox’s impatience (since apparently it would “take too long” for the game to be done) probably stems from their desperate need for a win. And they knew Life by You wasn’t going to give them that. They did a great job of hyping up the community, enlisting every popular sim tuber they could, and I’m sure they would have made some sales. But I’m also sure the backlash for the state of the game would have been bigger. I mean seriously, look at older videos of Paralives and where they are now. And then look at Life by You.

Still sad that they shut down the whole studio and all those hard working folks lost their jobs. That part sucks. They should at least have been given the chance to make the game better. Smh.

I hope we’re able to see the other two projects to completion. Cause at the end of the day, the goal is to make sure EA no longer has a monopoly on this genre. The goal is NOT paying over $1200 in DLC for a $40, oh excuse me, now free to play game. Also can we stop charging for a game only to offer it for free later? Cause they sure ain’t giving refunds when that shit happens. 😭😤

Anyway, I’m rooting for everyone who’s not EA to be successful in their endeavors.