#ive been sitting on these sketches for months i just

[chakiro]

The absolute focus of the stage of judgment, until the final applause sounds 🌊

[lichtbrenger]

LUCIFER AS A DOLL. HUGE IMPLICATIONS, ALL OF THEM QUITE FUCKED

@jujuflakes can you stop making me insane for One Minute.

[fishbloc]

actually so funny how ive made so many stardew save files for rp reasons but i have not once recreated the flower valley in it

[eventiderookery]

i'm stuck in the loop of wanting to draw wanting to write wanting to work on all these different projects i have but being just too damn tired to do any of it and it fucking sucks

[raymusterio]

I'm so mad right now. My Sketch book was on the dining room table and while I was outside someone exploded a dr. pepper and it got on my newly colored drawing

Y'all I'm sobbing and my hand hurts

[n1ght0f-nyx]

woven bonds pt 4

pert'ah x fem reader

you've struggled with sleep since you first moved in with your arranged orc husband, one night you find him awake in front of the hearth, drawing quietly

tags/warnings- arranged marriage, human female x male orc, gentle giant, your starting to develop feelings for big man

also feel free to request non-woven bonds related things that involve pert'ah or my other ocs (see my masterlist) i love writing for all these characters and seeing the mass of support ive gotten over the last month!

word count-1025

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its warm, golden light flickering across the small room. You were curled up on the straw mattress, a blanket pulled up to your chin as you tried to sleep, but rest wouldn’t come. It hadn’t for weeks now—not since your father had sold you to this…orc. You didn’t even know how long it had been since you arrived in the orc’s encampment. Days blurred together in a haze of resentment and exhaustion.

You shifted under the covers, your eyes squeezing shut as you willed sleep to take over. But the soft, almost rhythmic scratching sound near the fire caught your attention. You opened your eyes and turned your head just slightly. Pert’ah was seated by the fire, his broad, muscular form hunched over something in his lap.

You studied him, curiosity tugging at you despite the cold distance you had tried to maintain. His rough features—large tusks, strong jaw, and dark green skin—were cast in soft shadows by the firelight. His long, dark hair was tied back, leaving his sharp, intelligent eyes exposed. He was so different from the human men you had known, yet there was something almost peaceful about him at this moment.

He didn’t notice you watching him as he worked. His large hand moved with surprising gentleness, guiding a piece of charcoal across the page of an old, worn book. The scratching sound was his sketching. It struck you as strange at first—an orc, known for their brute strength, sitting quietly by the fire, creating art.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the room—his space, now shared with you. It was small but organized with care, wooden furniture crafted by hand and everything in its place. There were his weavings, hung neatly on the walls, adding splashes of color to the otherwise drab space. You had always kept your distance from him and his belongings, but tonight, your defenses felt weaker. Maybe it was the late hour or the quietness of the moment, but you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of curiosity.

Slowly, quietly, you rose from the mattress and tiptoed toward him, careful not to disturb the peace. He still hadn’t noticed you, his focus entirely on the sketch he was working on. You hesitated just a few feet away, unsure if you should say something or return to bed. Before you could make up your mind, his hand stilled, and his head lifted slightly.

“Why you awake?” His voice was low and gruff but not unkind. He still hadn’t turned to face you.

You swallowed, caught off guard by the question. “I…couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled.

He nodded, still looking down at his work. “Fire helps. Calm mind.”

You shuffled awkwardly, unsure how to respond. His broken English always made conversations feel a bit stilted, but you could tell he was trying. He always tried. Despite everything, Pert’ah had never been cruel to you. Frustratingly kind, even. Still, the bitterness of your situation gnawed at you, making it hard to accept any gesture of goodwill.

“What are you drawing?” you asked softly before you could stop yourself.

Pert’ah finally turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable in the firelight. He hesitated for a moment, then held out the book in your direction.

You took a tentative step closer, eyes darting down to the page. Your breath caught in your throat.

It was a sketch of you.

In the drawing, you were lying asleep, the blanket pulled up around your shoulders. It was a peaceful image, detailed and precise. The lines were soft, capturing your form with care. He had been drawing you without your knowledge, but there was no malice in the action—just quiet observation.

You stared at it, unsure of how to feel. His drawing was beautiful, but the thought of him watching you sleep, even harmlessly, made your skin prickle. “Why did you draw me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Pert’ah looked back at the sketch, then at you. “You are…here. In my life now. I want remember this. Peaceful moment.”

Your chest tightened. A part of you wanted to snap at him, tell him that you weren’t here by choice, that nothing about this was peaceful to you. But another part of you—the part that saw the care he put into that drawing—felt…something else. Something softer.

You didn’t say anything for a moment, unsure of what to do with this strange mixture of emotions.

Pert’ah’s gaze fell to the floor. “I sorry… if this upset you,” he mumbled, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“No,” you said quickly, surprising yourself. “It’s just… unexpected. But it’s—” You paused, searching for the right word. “It’s nice.”

He nodded once, clearly unsure how to respond to your hesitant compliment. The awkwardness lingered between you like an invisible barrier, but it wasn’t as heavy as it had been before. You glanced at the sketch again, still processing how gentle his work was despite his imposing exterior.

Without thinking, you reached out toward the page, wanting to take a closer look. Pert’ah, moving at the same time, reached to turn the page, and your hands brushed together.

The touch was brief, just the lightest contact, but it felt like a jolt of electricity had passed between you. Both of you froze. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you saw the surprise mirrored in his expression.

The air in the room seemed to still. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you didn’t pull your hand away. Neither did he. It was a simple touch, nothing more, but the warmth of his skin against yours lingered, refusing to fade.

Pert’ah was the first to break the silence. He pulled his hand back slowly, looking down at the book as if embarrassed by the moment. “I… make you new blanket,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “Orc blankets warm...Keep you comfortable.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension settle back into the air. “Thank you,” you whispered, stepping back toward the mattress. Your hand still tingled from the brief contact, and you weren’t sure why it affected you so much. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t let any of this matter.

But it did.

As you lay back down, you glanced at Pert’ah once more. He had returned to his sketching, but his movements were slower, more hesitant. You could still feel the faint trace of warmth where his hand had touched yours. It was a small, fleeting moment, but it stuck with you, lingering long after the fire had burned low.

Maybe it was the quiet of the night, or maybe it was something else entirely, but for the first time since you’d arrived, you didn’t feel completely alone.

In the quiet darkness, your thoughts churned, and for the first time, you wondered if perhaps things might change—if maybe, just maybe, you could learn to see Pert’ah not as the orc who had taken you, but as the quiet, kind soul who had always offered more than you could give in return.

You weren’t ready to admit it to yourself, not yet. But something had shifted tonight, something you couldn’t quite put into words.

And for the first time in weeks, sleep came easier than before.

[funsizedcrow]

14 :)

11/16 zeldas done. btw

[beannary]

Part 7 of my separated au!!

Beginning | Previous | Next

I've been sitting on the sketches for these pages for just over a month now lol I wanted to release them so much sooner but I started making the comic more like an actual story with a linear narrative rather than just random moments Ive wanted to draw

so far these have been my favorite pages to draw since I absolutely adore drawing Donnie in full science mode

[veinsfullofstars]

Okay I've seen it mentioned a couple times now but I gotta ask.....

what's the Library Turtle?

Oh? Would you perhaps be referring to-

-known more colloquially as the Library Turtle? Well, I'm glad you asked!

In the CFAU, it’s a little interstellar lending library that travels all around the local star system, collecting, trading, and sharing a wide assortment of books, magazines, music, and other sources of knowledge and entertainment between the various interplanetary communities. The elderly duo that owns the library have been running it for quite some time, visiting Popstar in particular few times a month. As for the proprietors themselves…

First, we have the lovely Ms. Paige, a tiny owl-like lady with a witchy aesthetic and a grandmotherly disposition, as patient and wise as you’d expect given her librarian title (as long as you don’t damage her books, that is). A former teacher and very well-traveled, she is a wealth of general knowledge and information, always happy to answer questions when she can or, barring that, to find the book that will. (She also has a bit of a weakness for gossip, even if she won’t admit it.) On occasion, she’ll regale the children with a story or two, folktales and epics and even anecdotes from her own travels (though, few tend to believe such fantastical yarns). She’s also rather spry for her age, often seen carrying improbably tall stacks of books without breaking a sweat. She claims it’s because she always remembers to eat her greens, or exercise regularly, or get a good amount of sleep every day. The answer seems to vary each time she’s asked about it.

We also have the illustrious Sir Apple Tortsworth IV, Esq. - or Sir Tort for short - a large tortoise-like creature who co-owns the library with Paige. He is an easygoing old man of few words and fewer hurries, perfectly content to take the twilight years of his life at a leisurely pace (even if others don’t always meet him at his speed). On land, he stands on four sturdy legs, while, in the air, he transforms them into flippers that let him soar with grace and ease, even with the weight of a whole library on his shell (well… some of it, anyway). He’s happy to chat when prompted, his words thoughtful and eloquent, but he generally prefers to sit back and observe while Paige does the talking for them both. She claims that he’s actually quite the chatterbox when he wants to be (and a sassy one at that). Then again, she also claims that he was once a highly-decorated knight. And a certified lawyer. And a four-star chef. He’s yet to confirm or deny any of these claims. Mostly he just smiles and sleepily admires the scenery, humming old songs from his youth.

The kids love when the Library Turtle comes to visit the village, even the ones not so inclined to reading. As interesting as their homeland can be, there's something exciting about learning what goes on in the cosmos beyond. Paige never fails to find something to interest them, even if it's just another one of her famously tall tales. And Sir Tort is more than happy to listen when one of them has news to share or just needs an ear to confide in. And, whenever the kids have questions about anything - their home, the world beyond Popstar, their families and neighbors, even the two of them - Paige and Sir Tort always make time to answer to the best of their abilities.

Sketch started 01/09/25, sketch finished 01/14/25. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

[beebundt]

Self rec time <3 TAKE TWO

Rules: Share five of your own works (OF ANY KIND CUZ I WANT TO SEE YOUR HYPE). Then, tag five more people to share the things they’ve made.

1. Something you absolutely adore:

2. Something that was challenging to create:

3. Something that makes you laugh or smile:

4. Something that surprised you (how it turned out, how other liked it, etc.):

5. Something you want other people to see:

THANK KEW UR SO KIND FR!!!! THIS SOUNDS FUN SO I LOOKED THRU AND TRIED TO PICK THE MOST FITTING THINGS.......... they're all within a year, maybe 2 or so bc i have very little pieces i still like past that point 🥲

1. i made this during my first year of college, i wanted to do something kind of warm and sweet as a submission for my club's art magazine. i dont think anyone cared abt it too much bc the lgbt population there is. Small to say the least lmao. but i still liked how it turned out! i cant discredit myself for trying to experiment!

2. WHEWWW this one was an art trade and it took 2 months (i felt so bad and still do) and was the first time in a long time doing a big rendered piece so i was super nervous and unsure how i wanted it look. but i think it turned out ok!

3. i love looking back on the very first art from 2 years ago i made of my first active (and still) dnd pc, mimyr!! i still didnt know how i wanted to draw firbolgs' ears yet so you def see a transition there. shes grown and ive grown. i love her 🥺 old on left, newest on right for reference

4. the post these 3 are in is currently sitting at 39k+ notes which is just. so bizarre 😭 i do like how these sketches turned out but i feel like tumblr users will see a titty and go rabid. woman lovers unite

5. I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO FOR THIS ONE SO ..... I CHOSE ONE OF MY FAVS IN RECENT YEARS TO SHOW OFF .? this was just a mindless doodle in a group canvas session but i still look back on this all the time bc its one of the most fun ive done in a Long time. been really trying to push myself to experiment with color/brushes that im unfamiliar with and be more sketchy again bc over-rendering makes me so miserable..... this is my happy place for sure

TBH IDK WHO WOULD BE OKAY WITH BEING TAGGED SO . i will leave this open for anyone who wants to join in on it and @ me so i can see too!! 🫵

[fayedartmouth]

Car accident fic update! Here's JB's POV after he finally wakes up.

Full master post is here.

I sketched this out a bit more, so I kind of know what I'm doing? But I'm open, as always, to feedback and ideas. So if you're craving something, let me know!

The world felt dull and fuzzy, like everything was wrapped in cotton.  The weight of it was almost too much, and he felt lost beneath it, but now that he had it in his mind, he could let go.

John B was like his dad, sometimes.  Stubborn about stuff.  When he needed to see something through, all bets were off.  No holds were barred.  

He liked to think it was a virtue.

Blinking awake, his senses were immediately overloaded.  Confusion set in first – and then pain.

He gasped, blinking back tears.  His head throbbed; his side was killing him.  And the rawness of his throat was almost unbearable.

It was possible, he conceded to himself, that it was also a vice.

Blindly moving ahead, no matter the cost.

Sometimes you had to count the cost.  Sometimes you had to think about what you were risking.  Because everyone had something to lose.

He took another breath, feeling his whole body shake.  It was agony, the process of breathing, and the oxygen only brought things into focus.

Which left him reeling even more.

He was in a hospital bed.

Given the IVs and the wires – not to mention the bandages and the haze of the drugs – it was serious.  And <i>shit</i>.

Shoupe was there, sitting at the edge of the bed.

He looked worried.

“John B?” he asked, getting up a little.  He hovered, clearly at a loss.  “Should I get a doctor?”

He exhaled harshly, making a soft whining sound.  “No,” he hissed out, because that was the last thing he wanted right now.  “Just – give me a second.”

To breathe.  To think.

To get his head on straight.

To remember.

What had happened?  Why was he here?  Why was Shoupe here?

Shoupe settled back, but he was perched on the edge of his chair, looking anxious.  “You sure?” he said.  “You look a little peaky.”

He was sure that was an understatement.  John B felt terrible.  The layers of the pain were almost too much to sort through, and he was pretty damn sure he had another tube shoved up his dick just to add insult to injury.

Shaking, he tried not to think about it.  It hurt too much to sit up, and even just lifting his hand seemed like a monumental task.  He blinked wearily at the deputy instead.  “I’m fine,” he said, taking a page right out of JJ’s book.  “I’m–”

He trailed off.

JJ.

Pope and Kie.

And <i>JJ</i>.

The memory flooded back, just that fast.  His breathing caught so bad that it pinged on the heart monitor.  Shoupe straightened again, at fully alert.  “You remember?”

There was no way to deny it.  He nodded, trying to wet his lips.  “My friends–”

“They’re okay,” Shoupe was quick to say. “Kiara’s upstairs with her parents.  She’s awake and everything.  Pope’s still got his bell rung a bit, but he’s doing much better.”

That was good.

That was good.

That was–

“JJ?” he asked.

Shoupe’s face froze.  Just for a second.  John B was out of it, but he wasn’t <i>that</i> out of it.  He felt his stomach fall – painfully and hard – almost to the floor. 

“Did you find JJ?” he asked, voice breaking.  He could still remember, asking for JJ in the ER.  Asking the medics. 

But no one had been looking.

No one had listened.

Shit, no one had cared.

“Please,” he said, and the pain made it almost impossible to keep his emotions in check.  “Tell me they found JJ.”

“I found him, I did,” Shoupe said, nodding steadily.  “We got him here.  He’s alive.”

There was a fraction of relief, which unfurled hard and fast in his chest.  But it was short-lived.  Because John B <i>was</i> his father’s son.  He knew what the man hadn’t said.

“But he’s okay?” he asked, and he couldn’t change how young he sounded.  He couldn’t fight how young he felt.  He’d been on his own for months now, trying to scrape by without a parent around.  This complete independence made him more of an adult than ever.

And he’d never felt more vulnerable and needy.

Honestly, he couldn’t do it, not without his friends.

Not without JJ.

“He was, uh, thrown from the vehicle,” Shoupe said, the words halting even as he clearly forced them out.  “He was in pretty bad shape, John B.  I won’t lie to you.  He’s still in pretty bad shape.”

He’d asked for the answer, but he had to admit – he didn’t know what to do with it.  He didn’t always get it, when his father pressed on for answers without ceasing.  Sometimes you got answers you didn’t like, right?  What did you do with them, then?

But then, his dad hadn’t been looking for the truth.

His dad had been looking for treasure.

One was an answer.

The other was an endless pursuit.

John B wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  He didn’t care, sometimes.

He just wanted a home and a family.  He just wanted his friends, the four of them – safe and secure and happy.

His dad never should have left.

And John B never should have taken his eyes off the road.

He was like his dad, see?

Lessons learned through regret, suffering only for those who were left behind.

“But he’ll be okay?” he asked, because no matter how much he tried.  No matter how much he postured.  John B was still a kid.  He was still too young, too stupid, too scared.

Shoupe sighed, sinking lower into the chair.  “They don’t know yet,” he said, and his lips twitched, like he might be trying to smile.  “But he’s fighting, okay?  He’s hanging in there.”

He looked away, eyes on the ceiling.  That wasn’t fair either, was it?  All JJ did was fight.  All he could ever do was hang on.  While the rest of the world got to live, JJ <i>survived</i>.

Now, not even that was a given.

He swallowed, blinking against the burning in his eyes.  It didn’t help to cry about it.  It didn’t help to lay here.  With a ragged breath, he tried to push himself up.  “I need to – I need to see him–”

The effort was more than he expected, the weight of his body too much to bear.  The pain ratcheted up, threatening to blind him, and his next breath was hard to take as his head started to spin.

“Whoa,” Shoupe said, and suddenly he was right there next to him, pushing him gently back down.  “You’re not in any shape to get up just yet.”

John B’s heart pounded, and he blinked away the darkness.  “I have to see JJ.”

Shoupe let go, but he didn’t step back.  “You’re not able to get up yet,” he said.  “And JJ’s in no state for visitors.”

The tears stung his eyes again.  He swallowed over the lump in his throat.  “You don’t understand,” he said, straining uselessly against his own weakness.  “JJ can’t be alone.”

“I know, okay?” Shoupe said  “We’re taking care of JJ, okay?  I promise.  We’re taking care of JJ.”

It sounded like the sort of bullshit adults said, sometimes.  It sounded like the same bullshit they’d been telling John B for months.

Yes, they were doing everything they could to find his dad.  Yes, they just wanted to make sure he was safe.  Yes, they were here for him.

They weren’t, though.  They thought his dad was dead, and they wanted to ship him off to the mainland.  No one was here for him, not except for his friends.  Not except for JJ.

But he was too weak.  He was too broken.  Too much had happened, and he <i>couldn’t</i>.

Exhaling heavily, the futility overwhelmed faster than the pain or the exhaustion.

He was slipping; or he had already slipped.

Shoupe seemed to know it, too, as he eased a step back.  “Just rest for now, okay?” he said, like it was a suggestion.  Like John B had any choice in the matter.  “We’ll talk more when you wake up again.”

He wanted to fight.  He wanted to protest.

But John B was too weak.  John B was too small.

John B had never had a chance, had he?

And the world grew hazy again, as the uncertainty rose, and the pain took him down beneath the layers of his consciousness, down to the darkness once more.

[udretlnea]

The Exciting Chronicles of The Shapeshifter & The Eccentric Gentleman

I / II (You're here) / III / IV / V

As a child, you would wait And watch from far away But you always knew that you'd be the one That work while they all play

In youth, you'd lay Awake at night and scheme Of all the things that you would change But it was just a dream

(Warriors, Imagine Dragons)

Words: 2.2k

Weeks would pass since that day. The shapeshifter, who would later be named Mercy, was trained rigorously to utilize their powers constructively; simultaneously, their abilities would grow stronger with some exercises from Numbers Four, Five, and Seven. 

Mercy would quit trying to romance Number One. Reading his mind after assuming his form the second time made them realize he didn’t desire romance in general. As someone who became him, naturally Mercy would understand and respect his reasons.

After a month and a half of routine, Mercy became skilled and powerful enough to not only shapeshift into beings of unfathomable power, but also act as them too. To a normal person, they wouldn’t be able to tell the real from fake. Ordinarily, this would take at least a year, but thanks to their intervention it accelerated.

Now, Mercy found themselves sitting in a dark room in front of a screen; Number One finished setting up the projector, turned it on and manifested a pointer stick.

One pointed at an image of a red X. “So here’s the situation.”

Mercy nodded. One clicked and the image changed to a colored sketch for a hulking, green figure. It had a horned skull for a head and three eyes with yellow glowing pupils. Its ‘cloak’ was made out of grass, decorated with various flowers they couldn’t be bothered to try to name. The number next to it told them it was 9 feet tall. Compared to it, they were a measly 5 foot 5 inches.

One poked the screen at it. “I need to get an audience with them.”

Mercy vaguely felt their jaw drop. This…this creature-no, entity was surreal; it looked like it leapt out of someone’s amazing imagination and uprooted an entire garden for its cloak. No, cape…? In any case it looked fantastical. Mercy found it pleasant to look at.

(Art from this fic by the_moon_archives on ao3)

“This is Creator #AQ-120, but refer to them as Eldritch for simplicity. Eldy for short.” One retracted the pointer stick and chucked it behind him. “They’ve been at the ‘game’ for long enough that they know enough about the big picture that their knowledge is critical to my objective.”

Mercy raised their hand. “And what is the big picture?”

One grinned. “I’m glad you asked.”

The slide changed to show the words “SAGAU PHENOMENON” in bold black letters. General questions asking about it were scattered throughout. One pointed to the title. “Finding out what is causing this-this anomaly and putting a stop to it once and for all! I’m confident Eldy already knows what’s happening and I suspect something or other is preventing them from acting on it. So I thought I’d gently ask to take the reins from them.”

One summoned the pointer stick back in his hand. “The problem is Eldy is heavily guarded by cultists and priests. Especially this one lunatic: Rex Lapis. He’s not only a highly dedicated and religious god, but also the oldest and most experienced.”

The slide changed to show a tall, handsome man in white robes and a hood; despite that, two branch-like horns tipped with amber hues poked out of it. His face was immaculately sculpted with a nice jawbone and his captivating eyes with amber irises. He looked like a combination of a dragon and a human, the latter moreso.

Mercy stared into those hypnotic eyes. It was almost a crime how handsome he looked. Fortunately, One changed slides and tapped on an image of an elaborate temple. “This is where Eldy is living, or rather staying. The Temple of the Omnipotent Emperor is usually highly guarded 24/7. Only acolytes are allowed to enter, and the place is crawling with guards.” 

Number One sighed. “It would be ideal if we could simply schedule a meeting face-to-face with them, but to them we’ll be perceived as complete strangers with no social standing or power. Furthermore, their guest log is practically full all the time. Scheduling anything with them is an impossibility; we’ll be put on the waitlist if we even try. 

And then One smiled like a devious tactician who already thought of contingencies for their master plan. “Which is why we have to resort to more clever methods to set up a meeting. I present to you: Operation: Masked Fools. You’re the mask and I’m the fool, just to clarify.”

Mercy arched an eyebrow. “What an interesting thing to call it.”

“I know! Sometimes my naming sense is genius,” One laughed lightly. Mercy rolled their eyes with an easy smile. “It’ll be simple. We’ll be pulling a Spiderman: into the spiderverse nigh-end scene; in other words we’ll disguise ourselves as one of the acolytes, avoid unnecessary characters, acquire an audience in private, and leave before anyone notices.”

“You’re missing an awful lot of details. Like, what happens if we run into someone like Rex anyway? Or-or what if Eldy isn’t even there in the first place?” asked Mercy.

“Then we hide our presence, or act natural! And if Eldy isn’t there then we ask around, get our answer, and then teleport to them!” One said without missing a beat.

Mercy frowned. They still weren’t satisfied. “What happens if there’s like, an object that cancels my ability to shapeshift?”

“Then you hide while I find it and shut it down.”

“Well, what if Eldy calls us out while we’re disguised?”

“I…teleport us into a private room, put on my charm, and reassure them we mean no harm!”

“Right, like you have charm in the first place,” snarked Mercy.

One put a hand on his chest and spoke in mock hurt. “How dare you! I’m practically oozing with charm, thank you very much!”

“Ha! Liar! I’ve been in your mind. Would you like me to recount the first time you tried to flirt with a woman?” Mercy cheekily said.

One puffed out his cheeks. He didn’t dare say anything to dignify that statement. Mercy smirked with the energy of a cat that had found the bag of cat food all by itself.

“Let’s just move on,” One said, slightly disgruntled. The slide showed what looked like a throne room. “This is where Eldy is during the day. Normally, there’s a translator by their side to translate what Eldy says; they speak in a different language apparently, but it would be better if we were alone.”

“You’re saying…you know how to speak their language.”

“Yes. Next, we need to make sure that nobody interrupts us. To accomplish that, I’ll set up a mid-level perception filter around the room so that nobody will even think of entering. Think of it as a censor for the mind, one that reassures it that everything is ordinary,” explained One. 

He tapped his forehead with the stick. “Finally, after I get the answers I need, we teleport out, get back home, and review what we learned. Okay! Briefing over.”

One clapped twice and the lights turned on; the projector turned off as well. One stretched his arms. “I suggest you get a nap and catch some sleep while you can, Mercy. We’ll be deploying early in a couple days.”

“Understood.”

///

That night, Mercy laid in bed awake. They stared up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. Memories of today’s briefing stuck with them like a fly caught in a tape trap. It just refused to settle down. They tossed and turned yet nothing seemed to help. Not even counting sheep.

Ugh. Fine. With a defeated groan, they got up and out of their room but not before grabbing a white and black hoodie. Mercy quietly crept down the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door. They shut it silently, then examined the nightly scene before them.

Before them was a place that was still in its early stages; when Noraa (Number Four’s name, given after earning his trust) offered to shelter them, they accepted with a promise to assist him however they could. Thus, they’d move and attach bricks, turn boulders into rubble, and generally clear the way. A dozen buildings, including a moderately sized castle, served as the homes for those who lived here. 

This was the Kingdom of Delusion and while Noraa could call it home, Mercy…had a ways to go until they felt settled.

With that in mind, they started trekking along the beaten path. Hopefully all of this excess energy will just go away as I walk…

It would have to be a short walk as they didn’t want to stay up too long. A glance upwards showed the moon nearing its peak in the sky. That and the stars shining above made for a rather beautiful sight. Their chest felt light like a balloon as they let their feet guide them towards a circular clearing in the middle.

This was the site for the future town square. Although only hollow shells for buildings were here, at the very least there was a simple fountain. Mercy sat on the smoothened stone. They looked down at the water below. It was as clear as a mirror.

The shapeshifter (Mercy took to calling themselves that after hearing it countless times from them all) examined their appearance. After several days of experimenting with it, they were satisfied with their current form: A round head with a flat chin, light gray medium hair with bangs short enough that a pair of heterochromatic eyes peeked out; the right was orange and the other was blue. 

They had a build that was well-built yet had the right amount of fat (plump was what Number Six described it). Thanks to their head shape they looked androgynous. Overall it felt pleasing to look at.

Mercy shivered. They rubbed their hands to try to warm themselves-

-only to have a coat get wrapped around their shoulders.

Startled, they swiftly turned around to discover a tall young man with short, jade green hair, slightly tanned skin, and light green eyes in his nightwear. He wore a neutral expression as he opened his mouth. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Mercy withdrew into the coat. “...No.”

“Mm,” was all he said. He opened his right hand and a metallic staff manifested. Noraa casually pointed the tip to his left palm and a dotted white beam fired. A cup of milk appeared in his grasp. “Warm milk?”

Mercy stared at it briefly what the f- before moving to take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” replied Noraa. He made himself another one and sat down right next to them. 

The duo silently drank their cups of warm milk. They savored its warmth and taste as much as they could. Once finished, Noraa took both empty cups and made them disappear via staff. Mercy found themself staring at it. 

It looked ordinary enough with a long jade green handle, but near the tip was where it started looking interesting. Inserted into a slot was an orange cube with a diamond gray panel that had five glowing square lights; the cube was big enough like a decently sized watermelon. There was a small barrel at the top where the beam came out of “Where’d you get that?”

The edges of Noraa’s lips pulled up. “Mm. Built it myself. I was inspired after I saw someone else’s.”

“I see. So you basically wanted a cool magic staff.”

Noraa nodded. “Don’t we all, at some point, want to pick up a stick and pretend to cast spells with it?”

“I guess. It sounds fun.”

“It is…” Noraa agreed. They both looked up at the starry sky. Neither said a word for what felt like hours. Mercy felt as calm and clear as a tranquil pond of water completely untouched, unsoiled. It was a nice moment, one they'd treasure.

They inhaled, savoring the pureness of the air when Noraa said something that caught her off guard.

“Mercy,” he licked his dry lips. “If you don’t mind me asking, what will you do after this?”

Blank. That was their mind. Nothing came up immediately so they said that. Mercy looked at Noraa who was still looking up. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just…I thought I’d bother asking since we know this is a one-time thing. This operation will benefit us, but I realize that it doesn’t benefit you at all. I mean, at least in the long run,” he explained. He looked at them with a face that screamed ‘worry’. It was something he did often; it was how he showed he cared. Mercy teased him by calling him dad. That made him stop doing it, at least for a while.

But back to the topic at hand. “I’m content with helping One at the moment. Once I fulfilled my end of the deal, I figured I’d just go out there and find myself. Do it the tried and true way.”

Noraa tilted his head as he processed that. “Yeah…okay. Valid.”

He covered a yawn. “Well, I’m gonna tell ya this right now: If you ever feel yourself in need of a safe space whenever your journey starts to wear ya down, my door’s always open.”

Mercy blinked. “That’s…actually very sweet of you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Noraa clicked his tongue. He stood up and stretched. “Mm, on that pleasant note, I think I’m gonna hit the hay. The milk’s kicking in. Want a lift?”

“Sure.” Mercy hopped off their seat. Noraa put a hand on their shoulder. Thanks to his staff, they disappeared and reappeared inside his house. As Mercy climbed the stairs they called out one final time. “Good night, grass head.”

“Good night to you too, dingus.”

“Snake eyes.”

“Vegetable.”

“That one didn’t make sense.”

“Good night.” Noraa marched off to bed.

Mercy chuckled quietly before doing the same.

///////////

A/N: @idkfitememate

This is mostly a set-up chapter plus some filler. A part of me thought it was a good idea to give a glimpse into Mercy’s bonds with two of the people who helped them adjust to life outside the mirror; after a month and a half of hands-on training it’s only logical for one to forge such a tight-knit bond.

I hope you enjoyed that slice-of-life bit because next is the exciting part. And I have enough action sequences stockpiled to draw upon. ;)

I've been wanting to write more on SAGAU somehow. This was my plan. The SAGAU Phenomenon is an ongoing anomaly where "countless human souls are prevented from passing peacefully; they are instead reincarnated or transported into Teyvat, totally unprepared for any trials. Depending on what kind of universe they're in, they will either thrive or perish." This is an original thing I came up with.

I wanted to make Mercy have an androgynous appearance since they can literally become anyone, any gender, etc. It makes sense from a design standpoint. As the first character I’ve ever written to hold that status, it felt easier since I had sources to draw upon (looking at you Pidge Voltron & Double Trouble She-ra). For their name, I spun a wheel with four choices: Halcyon, Mercy, Mica, and Blake. No guesses as to which one won.

Reblogs, questions, comments, and critiques are welcome (don’t be shy y’all!)

[hulahoopsoupgroup]

good evening everyone. i have decided that i need to write more, so ive made a list of ships/other platonic dynamics from genshin and hsr that i like, and i'll be writing some short blurbs about them over the next month or so

day 1: cyno x tighnari

tighnari quietly peered over the book he was reading, some 500 page tome about plants that nobody else in the house except himself understood. cyno stumbled into the living room, his red eyes dim with fatigue as he put his bag down beside the front door before going straight to tighnari, flopping down on the couch beside him and leaning his whole bodyweight against him.

tighnari put the book down onto his lap and brought one hand up to gently comb through cynos hair.

"rough day at work?"

"just very tedious. people are stupid sometimes," cyno muttered, sitting up to grab the tcg deck that he always kept on the coffee table. he quietly shuffled through the cards, arranging them on the table in different teams. tighnari could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he mulled over the best teams at his disposal, eventually pulling out a sketchbook and messily scribbling the shapes of a few exotic plants.

"how was your day?" cyno asked after a while, "hows that new class youre teaching?"

"its alright, i suppose," tighnari muses, eyes not leaving the page, "much less stuffy than the akademiya, thats for sure. less pretentious, too. i think itll turn out alright."

one of tighnaris ears twitched at the sound of quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. a timid collei crept into the room, eyes landing on cyno and tighnari. she nearly walked right back up the stairs, something the botanist had learned was a habit of hers from her old house, but tighnari softly called to her,

"hey, its alright. you can come down here if you want." he watched as the girls body language started to become more relaxed, and he began to relax as well. the past month had been quite rough on all of them, especially with the legal battles of getting custody of the 13 year old and putting her poor excuse for a father in prison. however, moments like these provided even the briefest moments of respite and glimmers of hope of a future that needn't be plagued with anxious tremors or jolting flashbacks of the past in the dead of night.

collei quietly made her way over to the couch, sitting on the side opposite to cyno and tighnari.

"how was your day, collei? did you do anything fun?" cyno asked, trading his tcg deck for a regular deck of cards and beginning to build a tower out of them on the coffee table.

"it was...good? im learning a lot of science-y stuff from mister tighnari," the girl mumbled quietly.

"your handwriting is getting quite good," tighnari said, glancing at her with a soft smile before returning to his sketches of plants that now littered the page in front of him, "almost better than cynos," he added with a chuckle.

cyno glared at him, adding another tier to his house of cards. "your handwriting is a slew of cursive, not much better than mine." tighnari elbowed him in the ribs, but cyno remained steady, and his tower of cards stayed upright.

"oh, by the way, what music were you playing in your room earlier?" tighnari asked.

"oh, i- uh," collei stuttered, "i can turn it down if you want. sorry if it was too loud..."

"no, it wasnt at all. it actually sounded familiar. i liked it a lot."

"oh. it was a lot of stuff from the 1950s, like," collei paused to remember the names of the artists, "nat king cole...frank sinatra...louis armstrong."

"i have a cd of frank sinatra in our bedroom," cyno mused as he added yet another tier to his card tower, "do you want to borrow it?"

"s-sure...by the way...is there any food in the kitchen i could use to cook? i didnt eat dinner earlier..."

"yeah, of course," tighnari said, already moving to get up.

"...i didnt have time to eat at work, either," cyno quietly said.

"then come on, you too. looks like im going to be the chef again tonight."

[kittydoodle]

i just wanna talk a little bit about my art journey the past few years, about my mental health related to it, and about my recently rediscovered joy in art. this doesnt have any real point, id just like to share (under the cut because its pretty long lol)

for a very long time, like several years, i was deeply unmotivated and uninspired to make any art. getting out of high school and eventually quitting my first job, i just felt really depressed, and with undiagnosed psoriatic arthritis putting me in worse and worse pain every day, i was lucky if i could even physically sit down and get a doodle out.

i also held myself to secret unsaid rules about how to create my art. no starting a piece unless i intend to finish it in the same day. no creating anything that isnt fully colored and polished. no making anything that doesnt have perfect lines or proportions im perfectly satisfied with. it stunted my self expression, it took all the joy out of making my art, and it made me upset because i believed i was somehow losing my passion for making art.

i sincerely believed i was growing out of my desire to draw, forever. i was distraught and grieving. i couldnt even draw things i was excited to, i would think to myself, "wow! id love to draw this idea!" and then id sit down and think about how id have to finish a full, perfect piece, and id immediately lose my motivation. so all id ever make were full, finished pieces every once in awhile, and i was still deeply unsatisfied with them.

however, in the past 6 months or so, a few things have come together that have really restored my excitement for creating art

first, (DISCLAIMER: this is not advice! dont follow my example!) i quit my adhd meds. yes, really. i was suddenly out of them for a couple weeks and in those couple weeks i realized i felt better than i had in years, and, ironically, it was way easier for my to do chores without it. the only thing i can really think of to explain it is that i was on a stimulant medication for a very, very long time, like most of my working memory ive been on them. i guess after so long it stopped working the way it should to due to tolerance buildup and was just bogging me down instead of stimulating me.

second, i doodle, i sketch, i make quick drawings i have no intention of finishing. i allow myself not to finish or perfect a piece. i even draw random ideas i wont do anything else with, just for fun. at the advice of a few friends, i have forcefully practiced letting myself get messy and unrefined with my art so that its less intimidating, and to my surprise it actually worked.

third, i started arthritis meds and i listen to my body way better now so i can avoid inflaming and injuring myself, which makes it a lot easier to draw without pain! i even do stretches! im still working on fully effective treatment for my pain, but im doing at least a little better

i dont really know where im going with this tbh... for anyone who has followed me for a long time, uve seen this blog get quiet with little to no art posts for months and months at a time for the past few years, so i hope u are excited to see me posting more frequently again! i missed it! i hope u enjoy me now as much as im enjoying me!

im happy to be creating again and i hope i can keep my passion going! im happier now than i have been in an extremely long time, and im excited to show everyone the things ive been creating more often

umm thats all i guess! if u read this far ummmm One Big Kissaroo From Me To You okay 🩷🩷🩷 MWAH

[iraprince]

any advice for starting sketches? once i have a coherent foundation it's easier for me to work on the drawing but i struggle SO BAD with actually making my initial sketch something that makes sense. when i try to start the sketch it feels like im just trying to get lucky with something i can actually work on. it's like i cant transfer what i want to see in my head to the actual work and it's insanely frustrating. it's like i can only know what i want to do when it's already there, not when nothing is there. ive been drawing for over 10 years and this is something I've never been able to change no matter how many different ways I've tried to go about this and it's why ive gone everywhere from drawing multiple times a week to not doing it at all for months/years at a time. i never want to try because the process of attempting a new sketch is so frustrating a majority of the time and i wish i could enjoy it or know why i cant get my sketches started. it's fine when i do get lucky, it's just the blank page that torments me

hmmm this is a really good question. it's something i have an easier time with digitally than traditionally, somehow -- like, i can't tell you how many stacks of paper i have sitting around that are full of, like, 20% of a floating head because i keep getting that far on starting something and then deciding i hate it, vs with digital sketches i do still often scrap/give up on sketches very early but somehow there's less friction irt just making a new layer and trying again, over and over pretty quickly. maybe it's that digital feels faster + more ephemeral, vs w traditional i'm faced more confrontationally with the paper i'm "wasting," etc

also i think just like. "what's in my head will not show up on the paper" is just the universal problem forever, it's the tide we're always swimming against and we'll go through waves where it feels more or less true depending on the current development of our technical skill vs our critical eye, but i don't think it ever fully goes away

this is just what's true for me but if it always feels like you're just trying to get lucky, the fastest brute force solution for that is leaning into quantity, imo. draw a LOT, draw FAST, and -- easier said than done, but -- try your best not to CARE if they look bad. even in the shittiest drawing there is often something you can salvage for later. i can't remember where i saw it but i once saw it said that drawing is like a clogged pipe -- there's a bunch of shitty drawings stuck in there and you have to get those all OUT before you can expect the real stuff behind it to start flowing

lower the stakes, in whatever way you can. in my experience, it's not that drawing itself is really that hard or taxing -- it's that the emotional toll of doing drawings and then not being happy with them is hard, it's disappointment and being down on yourself that's hard. if we do our best to strip away all the emotional baggage, that's that part that can actually make art so grueling and difficult to keep up with imo. so try the best u can to just make it, like... not that serious. remind yourself over and over again that there's nothing actually wrong with making drawings you're not satisfied with. it's not doing anything bad to anyone. i literally mumble it to myself sometimes -- when a drawing is coming out shitty or i just can't get where i want to be on an illustration i say to myself "it's okay, that's fine" and try to pump the brakes on the negative thoughts before "ugh, that's not what i wanted" somehow internally transforms into "you SUCK and you're a HACK and there's no point to ANY OF THIS!!!!" lol

in terms of more concrete stuff to try -- one of my fav exercises to loosen up is song sketches. i put a huge playlist (usually like literally all my music, i have it all in a folder on spotify) on shuffle and then draw a bunch of quick sketches only for the duration of each song, and usually trying to match the drawing to whatever the song makes me think of -- so if it's a 2 minute song, i literally only have 2 minutes. if i hit some 7 minute club edit, then great, i have 7 minutes to bang out something slightly more polished. depending on how fast you're used to working, you may find that at first you struggle to get ANYTHING coherent down in 2-3 minutes -- that's OKAY!!! another point of this exercise is to acclimate yourself to making unfinished, incoherent, dogshit drawings without it being a big deal. the point is that if you're limiting yourself this much (in terms of actual drawing time AND in terms of not being able to overthink/plan, you have to hear the start of the song and decide what ur gonna draw IMMEDIATELY), you will end up churning out a lot more drawings without individually agonizing over each one as much, and there WILL be something salvageable in the pile.

i hope some part of this is helpful!!!! good luck!!!

[zee-rambles]

Hi Zee! new follower that came across your pinned post by chance very recently. Maybe a weird ask ahead, totally fine if you don't answer,

Do you really believe rise can still be saved? Because a part of me is still holding on, and the new andy sketches have been torturing me too. Ive signed all the petitions, done everything I can, I feel like its not enough. It's weird and been bothering me for the last few months, though I've never felt this way before about shows that didnt make it. How do you cope with the feeling, as a long time rise fan? Do you? Obviously not a therapist lmao just curious, trying to learn how to deal with a three year long obsession. Thank you.

I don’t know how many people are going to read this, but here goes.

So, I really tried to think of a nice, clear way to answer this question, but then I realized: it will never be perfect. All I can do is be genuine.

Yes. I do believe that Rise can still be saved. The same way that I hope that many of my favorite shows can return. And I do this because I simply choose to believe it. I choose to have hope. I don’t know, I can’t promise it will come back, but if I’m being true to myself, I choose to hope for the future that I want, and that future includes Rise in it. I once thought I would never get to see the Hey Arnold Jungle Movie, thought I joined the movement too late to bring it back…but it happened.

And I thank you for doing what you can. I did a lot for this show in the last two years. Been recommending it in real life, posting about it anywhere I can, supporting and uplifting other fans, liking as much art, and advertising projects as much as I can. I even put Rise related gifs in the comments of things I react to on social media, hoping that someone will get curious and give it a chance. I’ve sent emails, signed petitions, rewatched as many good videos as I can so that the algorithm can recommend it more. I’ve done a lot. I’m just…slowing down right now because I have a huge project I need to complete in order to graduate from Uni, and because it is hard to advocate for something on your own.

Unless someone is a billionaire and has ties to Hollywood, no one person can bring back Rise. It has to be a collaborative effort from as many fans as possible.

And I’m a lot like you. I’ve never felt this strongly about bringing a show back before. I didn’t even think I would be the person that most fans come to for hope. I just saw that no one was doing what I was hoping they would do: encourage fans not to give up. So I became that person.

I’m not going to lie. I did go through a grief process at first. I was genuinely heartbroken, especially when I notice that slowly but surely, people move on. That happens. It’s normal. But I don’t want to move forward without knowing that I did something. I didn’t just sit there and cry that things were unfair. I gave it my best shot. Sure, I may be wrong, and I may be disappointed, and nothing may come out of it. But I tried, a it’s a 1000 times better to try something, and fail at it, then to never give it a shot.

If I got just one person to fight for Rise, to sign those petitions, to make an effort, that’s enough for me. A victory is a victory, no matter how small. I remember when that petition was only 3 thousand signatures and now it’s over 10 thousand. I think that, as long as we don’t give up, as long as we keep spreading the word, as long as we try our best to bring in new fans, there is a chance. Someone sees a video with the hashtag #saveROTTMNT or #unpauseROTTMNT on YouTube, or insta, or wherever, and digs into the story, falls in love with the show, and tries to get in on the action.

Spectacular Spider-Man fans haven’t given up. Teen Titans fans haven’t given up. I don’t see why we should. And yes, there is always a possibility that the show may never return. But, just as much as there is a possibility of something bad happening, there is also a possibility of something good happening. We’re just pre-disposed to notice the negative, because part of survival is keeping our resources. We could gain 10 good things but still be heartbroken if we lose 1 thing, even if that 1 thing was a bad thing.

At the end of the day, I’ll say this. It’s okay to love something. It’s okay to be sad that it’s over. It’s okay to have a passion for something. It’s okay that a show inspires you, is there for you when you’re alone and scared, that it gives you hope, that it makes you happy, and so on. It’s okay to fight for it if you love it…and it’s okay to let it go, if you need to, or step back if you need to. There is no right way to enjoy a piece of media.

It’s all a choice. At least for me. I choose to do something. And I choose to forgive myself if things don’t work out. I understand that I’m human and there is only so much one person can do. There is no harm in hoping, or believing. I just do it because I want to. Because…well, hope is a ninja’s greatest weapon.

I don’t know if this answers your question, or if it was what you were hoping for. Sometimes we need to figure out an answer for ourselves. That was my answer.

I hope you keep finding things you love and that they bring you joy.