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WORLDVIEW - A HAPPY HOUSEHOLD - Page 12 Updates Tuesdays and Thursdays
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Kisara and Zigzag comic written and drawn by @alainaprana and @little-noko Like what you see? Please consider-
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Previous entries
Finch and Fondu Chapter Cover
The Journal Cover
Campbell’s Errand Cover
Street Rat Cover
Kisara and ZigZag Cover
Negotiations Cover
#my art#collaboration#worldview comic#worldview#wv#comic#webcomic#knz#zigzag queen#uncle dec#a happy household
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i wanted to figure out dazai in my style :)
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungou gay dogs#bungo stray dogs fanart#dazai osamu#bsd dazai#kunikida doppo#bsd kunikida#knz#kunizai#kunikidazai#kunikida x dazai#bsd fanart#art#artists on tumblr#my art
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WORLDVIEW - A HAPPY HOUSEHOLD - Page 3 A Happy Household will upload 2x a week just like usual ~ Cannot wait for you guys to see this one ~
Chapter cover
Previous
Next (coming soon)
Project Worldview @alainaprana
Kisara and Zigzag comic written and drawn by @alainaprana and @little-noko Like what you see? Please consider-
ALAINA’S PATREON | NOKO’S PATREON | MAIN STORE | REDBUBBLE | ETSY | DISCORD SERVER
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
Previous entries
Finch and Fondu Chapter Cover
The Journal Cover
Campbell’s Errand Cover
Street Rat Cover
Kisara and ZigZag Cover
Negotiations Cover
#comic#webcomic#collaboration#knz#worldview#wv#zigzag#original comic#worldview comic#zigzag queen#mama alaina
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just found out my NOW ex wife is a lesbian. can’t believe ts
#ex wife#wife exhibition#drizzy drake#i want you bad#friends#lesbian#women in a male dominated field#i didn’t sign a prenup#prenup#i want the kids#im going to kms#knz#ava the chosen one
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H&R LONDON 光沢レギンス ゴールド 蛇柄 スネークスキン メンズ ユニセックス ヴィジュアル系 ビジュアル系 V系 パンク ロック インポート バンド衣装
#vkeiband#vkeistyle#visual kei#kakeru#ms.eva#arlequin#dadaroma#visualkeiband#bizyuaru kei#dexcore#speed id#knz#vistlip#hakuei
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🝊 Curse in Two Bodies: Yule Special 🝊
Masterlist | Summary: With the curse evenly split between them, Adelais and Ninlen struggle through their respective holiday celebrations while pretending they both just have colds. But Adelais isn't doing too well.
Note that there has been a time skip! This is a month or two after we left off. Adelais and Ninlen have learned how to split the curse partially between them, and have started to work together to some extent.
Oh Ievenar, God of Justice, who holds the scales:
Today I come to you with gratitude. For these few hours, I lost myself in the joy of the season, sitting in an easy chair to watch flames consume the yule tree piece by piece in our hearth. What’s a little pain in my body anyway? At an approximately fifty-fifty split, the curse feels, for each of us, like one of the worst sore throats we’ve ever had, but it’s bearable. And it wouldn't work any other way, with the palace festivities happening at the same time as my family's party. I think it was a pretty clever solution. The flannel buttoned up to my chin hides what lacerations there still are, wrapped twice in gauze to prevent visible bleeding. And I am with the people I love, at the little cabin in the valley outside Korsaivar City, where the smoke rises against a golden sky while the sun slowly plunges into the longest night of the year. Home sits on good land, over a humble but deep mana well. I can feel the familiar, energetic strength radiating both from the people around me and from the soil below.
I do love these people, in spite of everything. We aren’t a peaceful family. We claw at one another in our desperation to rise above the circumstances we were born into. I am, at times, tired of being their meal ticket. But they’ve been doting on me all day. They think I have a cold, as an excuse for my raspy voice and my pain on swallowing. It has meant that I can’t hold my newborn niece, Esmerelda, but still, she waves to me across the room in a conversation of curious glances. They’ve wrapped me in quilts, and given me cup after cup of steaming hot chocolate and tea. I feel so cared for… Rarely have I felt so comfortable in every part of my body except the neck. It doesn’t stop me from drawing deep inhales of cedar smoke. Every burning breath is a reminder of how possible it is to be happy even in pain. I am happy, Ievenar.
But I don’t come to you for myself. I come to you, as usual, for Adelais.
It was about three o’clock when he appeared on the television in the corner, tuned to the news broadcast of the royal celebration and national address. Immaculate, as usual, in a pure white military uniform adorned in thin lines of gold, he stood on the balcony overlooking the south courtyard, flanked by his mother and father. Neither of them looked at him even once.
He, too, had made illness his excuse for the way his voice would sound when he spoke his piece on the state of the kingdom and the decrees for the upcoming year. I doubt anyone will question it. He looked positively ashen.
He rested on the cold granite of the railing sometimes, to stop himself from swaying. Those months spent on life support are still haunting his atrophied frame. He’s dizzy, and he’s in at least as much pain as me. Even now, I swallow, and feel that knife-like jab in response, and it makes me uneasy for him.
I don’t want him to suffer so much, Ievenar. It’s as simple as that, what I have to say to you today.
I texted him, because I couldn’t contain myself. “I can see you on TV.”
He was sitting by that point, mercifully, at some kind of long, marble table set up on the balcony. The feed kept cutting to close-ups of his father, who droned on about war bonds, and in those stretches, he was able to reply, “Lovely. /s” His eyes darted across the crowd from one news team to another.
“I’m seeing the feed on your left, from KNZ Daily. And sometimes the one across from you, centered.”
He looked down at his phone, then right at the camera, his face expressionless. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”
Should I have lied? I didn’t. “It’s definitely believable that you’re sick. I don’t know why they have you up there on live news.”
“Neither do I. It’s a PR disaster waiting to happen.”
“You’re doing well so far.” A small shake of the head, and he abandoned his phone pointedly enough that I didn’t bother texting again.
He managed to get to his feet to speak. I couldn’t hear him much over the sounds of the card game going on in my own home. I redirected my attention again and again to the cards on the table and the gingerbread cookies, away from the thready, stumbling rasp of his voice, underpinned with misery even as he forced himself to smile. The warmth and laughter surrounding me seemed to mock him. Just because I was born here, and he was born there, we suffer differently. Where is the justice in that, Ievenar? If it were me, working long hours in the fields, everyone would see the injustice. But because his suffering is the suffering of guilt, no one sees it.
I looked down at my phone again when the card game was over, and at the television. He was seated once more by that time, and the sun painted pink and gold across his bloodless face. A chill wind ruffled the platinum blond fluff under his crown, and he rubbed at his temple. “Ninlen,” he had texted me (some ten minutes prior), “I think I’m actually coming down with something.”
A strange, protective jolt went through my heart. I felt the unmistakable, intoxicating uprush of my body drawing power involuntarily. “Did you feel that?” my mother asked. “Ripple in the mana.”
“Weird,” I lied, and discharged it quietly, flexing my wrists and letting the veins glow under my sleeves until I didn’t feel like I’d explode anymore.
Under control again, I managed to type, “It’s cold out there. You’ll feel better when you’re inside.”
“No. My throat hurts worse and worse. I’m getting congested. And I feel so faint.” He was visibly frowning and sniffling. Did you see him, Ievenar? Were you looking at him? You made him so miserable. Why punish him now, when he’s already in pain? He’s sick. Just lift the curse for a little while, just…
I know that’s not how it works. But it’s how it should work. I’ll say it. That’s what I see. If his throat hurts anyway, why double it?
“Come back tonight. Please. I won’t be able to sleep like this.” The please, from him…that’s really something.
“I can’t. I’ve rightfully taken my paid leave, and I promised my family. I’m so sorry. But I’ll be there first thing in the morning.” He sniffed again and left me on read.
The press conference wore on. Outside the thick lattice of my window, snowflakes started to tumble out of the sky. Heavy and thick, good for a snowman tomorrow. It had started up at the palace too. Despite the overhang above the balcony, a dusting had started to settle on Adelais’ hair and his almost bluish lips. He was shivering too violently to conceal.
“Will they let you go inside, now that your speaking part is over? If you tell them you’re sick?”
“There’s not much chance of that.” But he leaned towards his mother while the mics were cut to focus on the choir performance in the courtyard below. He whispered something to her, and she shook her head. A moment later, she whispered back, turning her whole body for it, lips drawn tight and speaking forcefully. Adelais looked away. His eyes went…a bit dead. A scolding looks the same even in the royal family.
“I’m sorry,” I texted. “This is awful.” He stared down at his lap, at my reply, his face trembling dangerously.
“It’s fine. I deserve it.” It’s lucky I was glued to my phone in a near frenzy of nerves, because the message was deleted a moment later. I looked back up and watched him take deep breath after deep breath, fighting not to cry.
When I tell you I almost drew the entire mana well into my body, Ievenar… God, such a desperation came over me, to intervene. But we were setting the table for dinner, laying out the candles and the sprigs of holly.
I did the only thing I could think to do. I texted Steward Quincy. “The Prince is genuinely sick. Get him inside if you can. If you can’t, get him a coat or a blanket or something warm.”
“In the middle of the Yule broadcast? I don’t even have the authority to do that.”
“Do you want him to pass out on live television?” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but so be it.
A minute later, a member of the PR team stepped up behind him, speaking briefly to him and setting a thick overcoat around his shoulders. I have very been grateful today, Ievenar. But I was most grateful at that moment.
Another wave of emotion seemed to go through him, by the heavy way he was breathing, but he fought it down. He looked right into the camera then, and smiled weakly at me. At me, I’m certain, because a moment later he texted, “thank you.” But I’m also certain that the whole portion of the kingdom who happened to be watching at that moment found themselves thoroughly dazzled by the fondness there.
I’m laying in my childhood bed now, and I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s trying to sleep now and probably can’t. He told me afterwards, in his formal, matter-of-fact way, “It seems I have a fever. Everything hurts. Don’t be late tomorrow morning.”
And I won’t be late. But I also won’t be early enough. So please. Nature is hurting him enough tonight, Ievenar. Can’t you just give him a break, just this once? Before I go mad with protectiveness and draw every spark of power from here to Montagleo, leave him alone.
#Managed to finish it today!!!#🝊 curse in two bodies 🝊#whump writing#christmas whump#royal whump#curse whump#magic whump#whump original fiction#whumplr#whump
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happy birthday #kzn(cevio ai) !!!! [feb 26]
#kzn is a japanese synth developed by Kizuna AI Inc., and voiced by the first self proclaimed vtuber, Kizuna AI. #knz is illustrated by Morikura En, who is also the official Kizuna AI artist, with her concept art being done by KEIGO INOUE. #kzn was first on presale on 8 aug 2022, then released on 26 feb 2023 for cevio ai, and later still released for voisona on 21 apr 2023. her appearance is very similar to that of vtuber kizuna, but just more pink
#bday#vocal synth#vocal synthesizers#vocal synths#vocalsynth#vocalsynths#cevio#cevio ai#voisona#kzn#kizuna#kizuna ai#vtuber#february#feb 26#kizuna ai inc
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I want to be loved violently.
I want carnage, blood, desire.
I want to fight for my space and for once be rewarded,
A taste of cannibalism as teeth break skin
I want it violent. Messy. I want to be left feeling used and content in a love - I want to feel angry. So angry that the gods fear me, that they awaken in a cold sweat.
Sixteen - old enough to fall in love, not old enough to have it returned.
I wonder if seventeen will be different.
I want to love as dirtily as I feel when I'm in love -
Blood, blood, gallons of the stuff.
Pink and red and purple lights and screaming kisses, searing and hopeless, a feeling of pain, being staked through the heart.
The triangle theory : eyes, mouth, then eyes again.
At this point scoop my eyes out with a blunt spoon - no point holding them for things that will never happen.
Edge of seventeen.
Aging and loving and dying and being stuck and aging and loving and dying and never from a kiss of death.
The sense of pure dread of hearing tales of teenage debauchery, am I doing it wrong? Something in the way I can feel my heart being torn out of my chest with blunt nails, tearing at my ribs, reminds me of you.
Purple and yellow and burst blood and tripling and hair dryer accidents; bruises and Hickey's and violence and picked cuticles as I stare from the side of the room.
And loneliness.
Complete and tof loneliness at the constant fear of being the crone, not pretty enough for the maiden and a disappointed fear from the mother.
I know I won't ever heard someone say I love you and mean it, mean it mean it mean it, so some just use me.
Violence and loneliness and unsent messages and sandbox love and scissors and pinky promises and split lipsz and Chicago things and shaky hands and one alone again
I don't believe in God but he seems like a cruel joker. Is this just a test? A trial? The feeling I'm experiencing , is it a trial of some sort? If so, god has a sick sense of humour, worse than mine. The way he gets me so close to happiness only to let me fall back, eleven and on a swing set. Sixteen and on the same one albeit rusted, not letting me get as close as before.
Outside looking in with a glass to my ear, and hearing about anniversaries and first times and buying gifts and normalcy, knowing my fears flick on and off like a see-saw, on and off, filtered by damage
So I long for the violence. Id I'm not going to be loved, at least let me be used; just so I can pretend.
Just so I can pretend someone could love me, lobotomy and body less.
Xo KNZ
#loser thought daughter#txt post#poetry#poem#poets on tumblr#writer#my writing#my work#writing#original poem#writers and poets#writers on tumblr#mental health#lgbtqia#anxiety#depression#depressing shit#cannibalism as a metaphor for love#fuck pete wentz might have possessed me
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They scream. . .
🔥 motivation 🔥
THE JUMPSCARE???? HELL P[OIZX;JSFEA STOP P;KNZ , MY BOOYYSSSS UEF ,DAIAF. I wasn't feeling the best uwaa qwq, IM RLLY SLEEPY RN BUT I FEEL ALITTLE MORE AWAKE ACK WHY SO GORGEOUS THESE MMMEEEEEEENNNN ISTGGG
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cannot believe the criminal clowns in this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o8vpf-knZ-U Danny gonzalez video are ripping criminal clownery off u_u
WTF.....how could he
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WORLDVIEW - A HAPPY HOUSEHOLD - Page 10 Updates Tuesdays and Thursdays
Chapter cover
Previous
Next (coming soon)
Project Worldview @alainaprana
Kisara and Zigzag comic written and drawn by @alainaprana and @little-noko Like what you see? Please consider-
ALAINA’S PATREON | NOKO’S PATREON | MAIN STORE | REDBUBBLE | ETSY | DISCORD SERVER
THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!
Previous entries
Finch and Fondu Chapter Cover
The Journal Cover
Campbell’s Errand Cover
Street Rat Cover
Kisara and ZigZag Cover
Negotiations Cover
#my art#collaboration#comic#worldview comic#wv#webcomic#worldview#A Happy Household#knz#zigzag queen#decans#uncle dec
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Case File No. 45892
Suspect Name: Miriam "Mira" Grace
Age: 27
Height: 5'7"
Last seen driving along US HWY 63 North from Hayward Wisconsin in a Blue 1993 Ford F150, Kentucky plates KNZ 734.
Suspect will be approaching Cable soon. Intercept attempt will be made if suspect stops.
Detective ******* will be on the case. More memos to come soon.
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