#maybe ill draw an alternate ending

[everdistantstars]

Dazai is pretty portable, I think

[jenoutof10]

For 2025 Valentines I bring you otome game Blue Lock...

[ddarker-dreams]

Entanglement.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, unwanted kissing, mild not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

“You’re still refusing to wear the clothes I gifted you, dearest?” 

A dulcet voice smoother than the finest silk coos from behind. 

You don’t deviate from your original task. Just outside the window, the cold, unforgiving vacuum of space looms. A mere panel of specialized glass is the only barrier between you and infinite nothingness. The concept used to frighten you, to a paralyzing extent. It got to the point your oh-so-benevolent captor had to make adjustments. Using some technology you’re unacquainted with, the dark canvas morphed into a familiar, more palpable set piece: the scenery of your home planet. 

You’ve since overcome this hurdle and no longer require the mirage’s services. 

Space isn’t what you fear anymore. No, it’s the woman with the future in her eyes who holds that distinction. 

“It isn’t to my taste.” 

“I know,” she agrees. Her perfume is near stupefying when it invades your senses. “It's to mine.” 

Kafka is either aggravatingly unassuming or laser-sharp with her intentions. You’re never given time to adjust to her fickle ways, the second you think you might understand her, she reveals just enough that you’re right back where you started. 

Gloved fingers hover over your wrist, causing your hair to stand on end. As if she’s playing a glissando on the piano, her fingers slowly creep up, from your forearm to your bare shoulder. Presently, you’re wearing one of the few garments you were allowed to bring. It’s a plain, white dress that she longs to stain with her own palette. 

Her arms envelop your midsection from behind. She nuzzles her nose into your neck, swaying you back and forth while she hums a haunting ballad. Can she hear the skipping of your heart? Does she consider it just another instrument to compose her hedonistic harmonies? 

“Are the stars truly that interesting?” she murmurs against your skin. “Surely, they aren’t prettier than I am, hm?” 

“Maybe. At least they understand the concept of personal space.” 

“Oh, I do as well. I just choose to ignore it when it comes to you.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t.” 

You can feel her smile.

“You’d be lonely without me. Maddeningly so.” 

“Insanity is tempting if you’re the alternative.” 

She laughs, the sound low and husky, belying any offense taken, if you had the hubris to think anything you said could hurt her. Before you can register anything, she twirls you around. In this new, uncomfortable intimate position, you’re forced to look her in the eye. There’s no quality of hers that unsettles you more. They draw you in and devour you like a black hole, picking apart actions you haven’t even committed yet. 

It reminds you, similar to the path she walks, that nothing you do will ever amount to any meaningful change in your circumstances. 

Kafka settles her gloved pointer finger and thumb on your chin, tilting your head up. Whatever she’s thinking is as unknowable as the universe itself. Her fondness for you is an illness without a cure — even she must know how sick it is. Something tells you that if a remedy for it ever existed, she’d refuse to take it, and would instead crush the vial before your eyes. 

“What a beauty you are,” she praises through lidded eyes. “There is no greater joy than knowing you feel every second we’re apart, just as I do.” 

Irate, you try moving your head away, but this causes her grip to tighten. Never enough to hurt — it’s only meant to warn. 

“I take it you don’t like the cosmetics I brought back, either?” 

Kafka delights in asking questions she already knows the answers to. If she had anything resembling a hobby, you suppose that would be it. 

The skin beneath her eyes crinkled with amusement at your abrupt vow of silence. You fight off a shiver at the look. It’s all-consuming, dangerous in a way that rouses your primal instincts. She leans down close enough that you can feel her breath fan against your face. Her head tilts in a deliberate show of faux curiosity. 

“Is your tongue frozen? Should I think of a way to warm it up?” 

The hand that isn’t holding your head in place toys with the strap of your dress. 

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. You know when to surrender in a losing game. 

“... No.” 

“No?” She repeats, mimicking the inflection of your voice. “Ah, well, that’s a shame.” 

You almost sigh in relief when her hand retreats. She reaches into a pocket on the inside of her coat and pulls out a tube of lipstick. She applies the roseate pigment, maintaining smoldering eye contact with you all the while.

After what feels like an eternity, she descends upon you, her lips seeking yours in a fit of scathing passion. You freeze up at the unexpected boldness. She takes advantage of your reverie, interlocking your lips in a languid motion. There’s no urgency to the kiss, she takes her time with you, just how she likes it. 

Her hand presses against your back, urging your chest to arch into hers. It isn’t until her hand starts venturing down that you return to your senses. In a fit of panic, you raise your hands to push her away. The defiance gets you nowhere — she catches your wrists with ease and holds them in place. 

Fortunately, she pulls back, although she doesn’t relinquish her grip. 

“I knew this color would look good on you,” Kafka sighs, almost wistful. Then, she raises your wrist and presses a lingering kiss against your pulse point. It leaves a smudged lipstick stain behind. “That leaves the issue of the outfit. Hm, what to do, what to do…” 

As if hit with an epiphany, her eyes light up in microscopic supernovas. “I know. If you need my help applying makeup, then why should getting dressed be any different? Why, you should’ve said so sooner.” 

Indignant, you seethe, “That isn’t…! Fine, I’ll put it on myself. Just— just turn around, okay?” 

“Of course. Anything for my sweet, shy girl.” 

Surprisingly, Kafka acquiesces. She pivots on her heel and covers her eyes with her hands. A teasing gesture, if you had to guess. 

Just when you believe you’re regained a semblance of control over the situation, she throws in a comment that snuffs out this fledgling hope. 

“I’ll give you to the count of a ten before I come and help you myself.” 

[anarachussy]

Viktor if he survived act 3 with Jayce.

This was created with the idea in mind that the two somehow survived in the end. Viktor, now the most hated man across Piltover and Zaun has been convicted to execution. However, Jayce, now a renowned hero, combats this by insisting Viktor gets the help he needs at a mental institution (the only other, least painful alternative).

Notes:

His hair is shorter than in his herald phase, but longer than his ideal cut from season 1. This is because it represents both his disconnect with his ethereal identity and the man he was before. On a more realistic note, he likely tried to cut it, but had any tools taken away before he could finish, or just lost motivation/felt undeserving of his prior appearance. Maybe both. He has more blond now than he did when he was the herald, and it is irreversible.

His eyes have veins of white that cut through the amber, another reminder.

The body was tricky. I don’t like the idea of him keeping his entire machine herald build, but I also dislike the idea that he’s left unscathed. So he has sort of iridescent scars. All over. His shimmer leg is irreversible. Maybe they glow when he’s upset, who knows. I just draw.

His physical illness has subsided, his mental illness has nosedived.

*labeled hextech in the image, referring to hexcore. I’m just glad I didn’t accidentally write hexstrap.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what did you think about wiege miss raven …

It was cute 🥰

BRO 💀 LUKA IS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE AND DOWN BAD FOR HYUNA… He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush when a GUN is pointed at his head??? Wanting to run to her and embrace her anyway, with zero regard for his own situation or how she might react negatively to him??? Kissing her missing poster (even though kissing isn’t really a thing in their society?) He’s literally SO mentally ill and obsessed with her… This is toxic and codependent het, I KNOW IT IS 👁️👄👁️

The song this time was admittedly not my favorite, honestly (its tone is sort of haunting)—but I love what it represents… A pure lullaby, holding all the hope for a peaceful and happy future. It’s probably one of the few songs Luka ever sang without intent to manipulate or harm his duet partner.

I loved seeing more gaps in the story being filled in!! Mizi after being rescued and Hyuna trying to calm her down, Hyunwoo’s presence in general, Hyuna competing in Alien Stage, Luka and the other children in Anakt Garden… Ooogh, and those flashes to an alternate universe where everyone is alive, well, and involved in their passions… Luka and Hyuna with their matching rings (not sure if they’re promise bands, engagement rings, or wedding rings)?? It was nice but I feel like I might not be as invested in their relationship if that AU lacks the ✨ spice ✨ of being enemies.

LITTLE LUKA WAS SO PRECIOUS BUT ALSO SUCH A LONER LOSER OTL Laying his head against her… Him sitting under that tree alone and huddled up, counting his fingers to pass the time… Hyuna casually joining him… The pure joy that brings him… Hyuna going in for what seems to be a hug, only for the scene to cut to her body slumping on his AFTER BEING SHOT WHILE PROTECTING HIM 💀 That was absolutely FOUL…

TILL, MY BELOVED SON… He didn’t show up a lot this song, but I loved seeing him having so much freedom and creativity. Spray painting, drawing, just acting like a Normal Human Being and not constantly lashing out and being violently subdued 💦 I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut myself when he’s harmed. Poor guy… He deserves all the happiness in the world.

dhjsvajFagfDah DONmT yhINK i FORgoT MIZI eiThER. Girliepop is fr going through it??? Still having trauma visions of Sua… LOSING HYUNA NOW… and now she’s left with that fucker whose ass she beat in a fit of rage 😭 which does NOT bode well. THE MURDER IN MIzi’S EYES AT THE ENd, HOLY ShIT. I am half expecting the next installment to just be her wailing on Luka, maybe blaming him for what happened to Hyuna and still holding a grudge for using Sua’s death in such a despicable way.

Hyuna’s final words to Luka were so 👌 It wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too short… It was the perfect length and it conveyed everything she needed to tell him. How important he truly is to her, how she hates him because she loves him; he is and always was her one and only weakness, how all she wishes in her final moments is for Luka to live life to its fullest—even the ugly bits. That he should forgive himself and love himself no matter what…

“Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself… Again and again, endlessly. Because everything… begins from there.”

P.S. I feel like I definitely got lost on some parts of the story 😅 I wasn’t sure how to interpret that scene where Luka was covered in blood and there were a bunch of his dead clones (?) in tanks?? Is the implication supposed to be that the aliens were trying to make the perfect performer and the Luka we know now is the ideal test tube baby…? I see his hand on what appears to be a control panel of some kind?? So did he accidentally kill the clones?? And I’m not sure why the random gunman tried to shoot Luka. Isn’t Hyuna the leader of the resistance? Why didn’t she command them to stop? Why did she throw herself in harm’s way instead? Was it a spur of the moment or adrenaline fueled move? Did the gunman really dislike Luka or what he represents + want to kill him so badly they disregarded orders to let him go?

P.P.S. Sorry to Ivan fans… I do not have much to remark on other than the opinion I have always held, which is “Man has killer eyelashes.”

P.P.P.S. I actually didn’t cry! 👍 vxjsneksksk I live for angst like this, so I was eating it all up like a bag of chips.

Really looking forward to seeing where things will go from here on out! The resistance is lacking a leader now; will Mizi step up?! What’s going to happen to Luka, is he going to be taken as a hostage and slowly come around to join the resistance? How are the aliens going to retaliate? Will the competitor even continue at this rate? So many interesting questions!

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (25)

Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: descriptions of traumatic injuries

Author's Note: There's an alternate version of the header at the end. I love it, but it's far too unserious to actually use.

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Arianwyn had never craved violence. When she tackled Rhaena all those years ago, all she wanted was to save Aemond. When she stabbed Daemon only the night before, it had been in a desperate attempt to save her own life. But now, as she frantically ran through the halls of the Red Keep in an ill-fitting dress borrowed from the Queen, with a fur stole covering her neck, she wanted nothing more than to feel her father’s blood running through her fingers.

If he had done anything to hurt Brynna, she… she did not know what she would do. Claw at his face, perhaps. Or rip every hair from his head. Gouge out his eyes. Take his sword and cut him in two, as he had done to Vaemond Velaryon. Command Emrys, the dragon he had once tried to keep from her, to burn him alive.

Or maybe she would simply unleash Aemond upon him.

From the murderous glint in her husband’s eye and the hard set of his jaw, she knew that was the cruelest thing she could do. He would make him suffer for what he had done to her. By the time Daemon finally breathed his last, perhaps some tiny modicum of justice would have been served.

Arianwyn was torn from her fantasy of revenge when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Aemond’s back. She could not see why he had stopped, only that his hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his new wife.

The four Bronze Guard that had followed them from their chambers drew their blades, two moving forward to flank Aemond.

“Stand down. All of you,” Alicent commanded, laying a soothing hand on Aemond’s shoulder as she stepped around him.

Though Aemond did not release his weapon, he did step aside, allowing Arianwyn to see Larys Strong standing before them.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the clubfooted Lord of Harrenhal looked over the harried group with a grimace. Though his face was set in pity and sadness, it did not reach his eyes. “I am afraid your presence is urgently required in the Great Hall, Your Grace. Prince Daemon claims he has been attacked and is demanding a trial immediately.”

“A trial?” Arianwyn asked, trapped somewhere between fear and hope. A trial meant that his attacker was alive, for a corpse could not face judgment.

Larys’ dull eyes locked onto her face. “He has brought the accused – your long-serving maid, Brynna Taler – before the Hand and the Small Council. The guards are presently attempting to disperse the crowd his… theatrics have attracted.”

“Has he hurt her?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking with terror.

Flicking his eyes to Aemond and the sword on the prince’s hip, Larys replied with careful diction, “Not fatally, my Lady.”

But the words offered no comfort. That Daemon had laid even a finger upon her was enough to set her tears flowing and a sob ripping from her wounded throat.

That single cry was more than enough for Aemond. He growled, drawing his blade as he pushed past the Lord Confessor. Alicent followed him, shouting futilely for him to remain calm, with Aria not far behind.

Aemond could hardly see the path in front of him for the bloodlust surging through his veins. The fearful stares of courtiers and servants alike as he stalked through the halls of the keep were as inconsequential to him as rats in the gutter.

However, the words they whispered as they approached the Throne Room echoed through his mind.

“Do you think he did it?”

“Of course not! He has only done what we have always expected.”

“It’s only that she’s been on Dragonstone that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“That is precisely what I mean! He’s been stewing in anger for all these years.”

“Perhaps since he could not have Prince Lucerys’ eye, he took her instead.”

“She may have loved him once, but that was when they were young, and he had no scar.”

“Would you want that sharing your bed?”

“Gods, just look at him. Not even Maegor looked such a villain.”

“He did it. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Aemond would not react. He would not give them that satisfaction.

He knew what he looked like. They had been so rushed to find Brynna that he’d only thrown on his trousers and loose tunic from the day before, leaving his hair untied and his eye – his scar – bared for all to see. He was disheveled, to say the least. And with his scar on display and his sword drawn…

Several ladies looked away in horror, and Aemond knew why – he appeared every bit the monster they all thought him to be.

A flash of Aria’s soft smile when she looked upon his marred face for the first time crossed his vision. You are gorgeous, Aemond. So painfully gorgeous that I cannot stand it.

Yet he could not help but grip his sword tighter, until the skin of his knuckles ached with the effort. He could not stop his scar from burning or the skin surrounding it from twitching. Nor could he stop his stomach from roiling, for despite Aria’s ardent insistence in his continued beauty, he knew that the whispers were true.

To all but his wife, he was hideous – nothing more than a villain and monster.

His despair only deepened when he approached the Great Hall and heard Daemon’s voice carrying beyond the heavily guarded doors and throughout the corridors for all those gathered nearby pretending not to be eavesdropping to hear.

“Arianwyn was distraught,” he boomed, voice wavering with fabricated despair. “It is no wonder why. From the moment we arrived, Prince Aemond never once relented in trying to molest her before our very eyes – ”

Whatever he said next was drowned out by the startled murmurings of the crowd as the One-Eyed Prince, the aspiring molester himself, stormed through their ranks to the still-closed doors, Daemon’s ‘distraught’ daughter close behind. With the steel of his drawn blade flashing in the morning light, they parted for him like stalks of wheat to a raging bull.

Aemond did not wait for the stewards or guards to open the doors, pulling them open himself without a care for their monstrous weight nor their thunderous sound as they again shut behind his wife, mother, and the two Bronze Guard that had followed them in.

The Hand stood before the Iron Throne, the other members of the Small Council and Septon Eustace just below the steps. Rhaenyra and her firstborn bastard stood to the right of the Throne, haughty and presumptuous as ever. A smattering of men from the Kingsguard and various household guards were scattered throughout the hall, eyes darting between each member of the royal family.

Curiously, Helaena was also present. Not truly paying attention, simply standing beneath the column bearing the likeness of Aegon the Conqueror. She gazed out the Eastern windows and watched the rising sun, nothing in her serene face to indicate that she was at all listening to what happened around her.

And Daemon.

Cruel Daemon. Hateful Daemon. Villainous Daemon.

Daemon, who had abandoned Aria before she was even born. Who ignored her for a decade while she had to wonder why she was unworthy of his attention and love. Who had broken her heart the very first time she met him by laughing at her at that damned funeral and saying whatever it was he’d said to her afterward to make her grow up in the span of only a few hours.

Daemon, who had torn them apart when Aemond needed her most. Who had confined her to that horrible island and locked her in that tower. Who had threatened to kill her simply for reuniting with Aemond. Who had nearly followed through on that threat only hours ago, when his hands had left bruises on Aria’s neck.

Daemon, whom Aemond swore he would kill, stood halfway between the dais and the doors, no doubt so his raised voice would carry to the gossipmongers.

Before he could continue his tale, however, the bastard Jacaerys burst from his place by his mother’s side, drawing his own sword and pointing it toward Aemond’s chest.

“Release my sister!” he demanded, despite the fact that Aemond was plainly not holding her hostage.

“I am not your sister!” Aria yelled back.

Aemond said nothing. However, he allowed himself a proud smirk as he raised his own blade in reply.

How dare Jacaerys call her ‘sister?’ What little blood they shared was thin and tainted by his bastard birth. Perhaps if he had been more than Aegon’s boorish toady in their youth or been kinder to Aria on Dragonstone, Aemond would not now be so eager for this fight.

Tilting his head in a silent dare for Jacaerys to make the first move, Aemond could not help but wonder whether the Curse of the Kinslayer applied to bastard nephews.

“Brynna!”

Arianwyn abandoned all her fears and good senses the moment she saw her beloved maid kneeling at the dais steps, pushing past the queen and Aemond. He had reached his offhand out to stop her, but she brushed it aside.

“Take my hand, Arianwyn,” Jace whispered as she passed him.

She did not give him the courtesy of a reply or even a glance at his pleading face.

Daemon glared as she approached, but she did not face him either.

At the base of the Iron Throne, she tripped over the too-long skirts of Alicent’s dress, falling to her knees. She cried without cease as she took in the woman’s wretched state. “Brynna, I’m so sorry.”

A large purple bruise covered most of her face, from her split brow to her bleeding lip. Her nose was broken, still marked with a dried river of blood.

But the worst of it was her hands. Her lithe, nimble hands that had crafted some of the finest dresses in the history of the Seven Kingdoms – including the dress that had become Arianwyn’s wedding gown.

Shattered.

Each finger bent and twisted like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The skin was so red and bruised that Arianwyn could hardly see the countless cuts marking where she had been struck over and over and over again.

Arianwyn knew that while it was not by her own hand, she had done this. By angering her father, by stabbing him. The moment she married Aemond, she made everyone she loved a target for Daemon’s wrath, and he wasted no time claiming his first victim.

“Oh, gods!” She cried, dropping her head to Brynna’s lap as she had not done in years. But she did not care that she was too old to cling to her maid. She just needed her close. As close as possible. “This is all my fault! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Brynna shushed her, but her sobs soon joined Arianwyn’s. She attempted to wrap her arms around her young charge, only getting so far as to rest her forearms on her shoulders.

“It is not your fault,” Brynna whispered, voice hoarse and broken.

Arianwyn did not believe her.

She would beg and beg for forgiveness until her voice gave out. Until her knees bled from kneeling, and her eyes were dry of tears. She would beg until the Mother herself appeared to offer her mercy or until the Stranger took her away – though to the heavens or the hells, she did not know.

Aemond looked from his wife to Daemon and raised his sword level with the villain’s heart as he strode past Jacaerys. The bastard moved to stop him but was pulled back by his mother.

It was Daemon who had done this. He had hurt his wife’s greatest friend. He had made Aria cry. And he would pay for it.

But Daemon paid him no attention. Rather, he sighed and, with an expression of relief to rival the worst mummers in King’s Landing, took a single step toward his daughter. “Aria!” he cried, “How relieved I am to see you unharmed!”

Aria lifted her head from Brynna’s lap to stare at her father, her mouth dropping open as her brows scrunched. Another tear fell down her flushed cheek, and Aemond’s rage burst into a wildfire within him, lashes of hot pain licking at his scar.

She had been harmed, and he was the one who had done it.

“Stay away from my wife,” Aemond growled, circling his new father-by-law until he stood protectively between him and Aria. He could feel his anger hot on his breath and could swear he heard Vhagar roaring in the distance.

“Was it not enough for you to steal my dear Laena’s dragon?” Daemon asked, brow crumpled with false heartache and a voice loud enough to carry beyond the doors. “Now, you must take my firstborn, as well?”

“I have stolen nothing,” Aemond hissed, angling the point of his sword to Daemon’s neck. All it would take was one motion, one cut, and the Rogue Prince would never harm Aria again. “Can you say the same, uncle?”

“Put down your swords!” Otto bellowed from the throne. “There will be no more blood spilled in this hall!”

‘Swords?’ Who – ah. A quick glance revealed that Ser Warren and a man in bronze Aemond had never met stood behind him, scowling while sheathing their swords. But Aemond did not move, save for a twitch of the muscle in his jaw.

Gods, his scar was blazing. It had not hurt like this since the night it was given to him.

“Despite that pin on your breast, Otto, you have no right to rule in this. It is a family matter,” Daemon spat, dropping his besieged father act.

Otto did not yield an inch, speaking with all the authority of the Iron Throne. “Indeed. Concerning my grandson and his new wife. And seeing as how, in his absence, I speak with the voice of the King – your brother and Prince Aemond’s father –I have every right to rule on this family matter. Don’t you agree, Lord Wylde?”

The Master of Laws startled when his name was called, but he quickly collected himself and answered, “Yes, my Lord Hand.”

The only hint of Otto’s smugness was the nearly imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips. “With that matter settled, we can begin. Prince Aemond, I will not repeat myself again. Put. Down. Your. Sword.”

Against all instinct and every nerve in his body, Aemond obeyed. Though he did not sheath the blade nor move away from his wife.

Arianwyn’s tears began anew when Brynna nudged her shoulders, pushing away from her. Was she angry for causing Daemon to hurt her? Or had she inadvertently agitated the wounds he gave her?

Brynna shushed her before she could give voice to either question, her hands coming to cup Arianwyn’s cheeks before she pulled away. “Oh, my Aria. You mustn’t cry. Not now. Not for me.”

“But it’s my fault,” Arianwyn whined.

“No!” Again, she moved to cradle her lady’s head, and again, she pulled back. “It is Daemon’s fault and his alone.”

“But–”

“Hush!” She glanced at the two Bronze Guard who flanked Aemond as they sheathed their swords, then over Arianwyn’s shoulder. “You must be strong now. Can you do that? For me?”

Arianwyn ducked her chin and shook her head, and Brynna finally took hold of her, forcing her eyes to meet hers. Against the purple of her bruises, her brown eyes appeared nearly black. “Start with standing, eh? Come, we’ll both do it. We can help each other.”

Careful to mind the wounds on Brynna’s hands, Arianwyn grasped her elbows as she fought her shaking legs to steady and rise.

She stumbled, and Brynna caught her.

Then Brynna stumbled, and Arianwyn caught her.

They at last found their footing just as Aemond lowered, but did not sheathe, his sword.

The Hand sighed, gesturing to Brynna. “Grand Maester, for the love of the gods, will you please tend to this poor woman?”

Daemon seethed. “That ‘poor woman’ has attacked a Prince of the Realm!”

“I have not!” Brynna shouted.

“She did not!” Arianwyn yelled with such a cold fury that she was sure she bore icy claws. Emrys’ howling echoed through her mind as she pulled away from her maid, only enough to allow Orwyle the access he needed to assess her wounds.

Orwyle examined Brynna quickly, then looked back to Arianwyn and gave a slight, reassuring smile. The same he had given her when he declared that Aemond would survive the loss of his eye.But her heart was hollow, and she could not return the gesture.

Brynna would not recover if she were soon executed.

Once satisfied that Brynna’s wounds were being tended to, Otto lowered himself upon the Iron Throne. “Prince Daemon,” he said, “If you are quite finished with your performance, the Crown will now hear your accusation.”

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek, scowling before he once again painted his face with fatherly concern. “After our family meal last night, I went to check in on Aria. She had been so upset when she left, after seeing her dear brother attacked by none other than the man who had treated her with such vulgarity all evening.”

Arianwyn looked to Aemond, begging with wet eyes for him to speak in his defense. But he only glared at Daemon, hatred painted on every inch of his face. Hatred so bright that, for a moment, it seemed a flame danced within his sapphire.

Unchallenged, Daemon continued. “When I reached her rooms, this woman,” he pointed at Brynna as he spoke, drawing attention to her, “was at the door. She would not allow me entry to my own daughter’s chambers.

“First, she told me that Aria was unwell. Then, that she was asleep. When she had run out of excuses, I demanded she stand aside to let me through. But she would not. So, I went to push past her. That is when she took her shears and did this.” He tossed the bloodstained iron shears to the floor and tore off the linen wrapping around his right hand before raising it above his head for all to see.

The comforting thought of spilling his uncle’s blood was the only thing distracting Aemond from the pain searing through his very skull. Until he revealed his wound, and then his heart flooded with dark pride.

A large gash was visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. As Daemon turned to present his hand to those behind him, Aemond was gratified to see the wound was wide enough for sunlight to shine through the hole. When this was over, he would have to congratulate his wife on a job well done.

“I, of course, was able to subdue her even with the wound, and she quickly revealed the sinister scheme.” Daemon grinned at Aemond as he went on, “The prince here paid her quite handsomely to sneak him into our guest quarters, that he might steal her away for his own. He forced Septon Eustace to wed them. And then, I imagine, he raped her so the marriage could not be dissolved on account of a failed consummation.”

“Lies,” Aemond hissed. But Daemon’s eyes were not on him but on his grandsire.

“An interesting story, my prince,” Otto said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “Though I am afraid I find myself with several questions regarding its details.”

Daemon scowled, unable to hide his disdain for the man. “And what, pray tell, are your questions?”

“I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you? With Prince Aemond’s behavior at dinner.” Otto raised an eyebrow, the only hint of his confidence. “You see, my prince, I was seated closer to him and Arianwyn than you were, and yet I saw no such evidence of molestation, attempted or otherwise.”

When Daemon opened his mouth to counter him, the Hand continued, “Though I may be mistaken. Perhaps we should ask the Princess Helaena, who was herself seated at Arianwyn’s side, what she saw?”

Daemon scowled but did not object.

“My sweet girl,” Alicent said from where she now stood with her daughter. “can you tell us what you saw between Aemond and Arianwyn at dinner last night?”

Helaena, emerging from her haze, glanced between her brother and his wife. “I saw love, gentle and true. As it has always been.” The princess smiled proudly for a moment, but it faded as a shadow passed over her eyes. “Shattered glass,” she murmured, “Silver shards sharper than a broken blade.”

Not even Daemon had a clever answer for the seemingly meaningless words.

In the silence that followed Helaena’s declaration, Arianwyn looked closely at her cousin as the fog cleared from her lilac eyes. At the dinner, she had said something about a cloak – a white cloak – in the moonlight. Had she somehow known?

Otto gave a soft thanks to his granddaughter, who then turned and simply left the Throne Room, before turning back to his rival. “But these are the small details of your tale, Prince Daemon. Indeed, they may be crucial to its veracity, but whether or not a lady was molested can be quite easily mistaken by even the most perceptive among us.”

Lord Wylde failed to conceal his chuckle.

“Let us focus instead on the larger picture,” Otto said. “For that, it seems we are missing the most important testimony. Lady Arianwyn?” He tipped his chin to her, and she was surprised to find reassurance in the gesture. “Please tell us what happened – but speak only the truth.”

The words echoed those that she heard once before, long ago, and brought Arianwyn back to the Throne Room on Driftmark. She was kneeling at Aemond’s side, pressing kisses to his trembling hand only moments after his eye was taken. She could feel Rhaena’s nails scratching her skin, the heat of Aemond’s fresh blood flowing through her fingers, and her aching chest wheezing for breath. She was drowning in desperation as she begged the king to believe her tale.

How had it come to this again?

“Aemond has done nothing untoward,” she declared, though her voice wavered. “Nor has Brynna. But the prince and I are indeed wed, and our union has been consummated – willingly.” She took a moment to steady herself and stepped towards Aemond, lacing her fingers through his. He startled at the touch, for she had approached him from the left. But he relaxed only a heartbeat later, finally sheathing his sword.

“Septon Eustace can attest to the veracity of the marriage,” she said, looking only at her husband. “My household guard, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Ser Criston Cole all bore witness. Orwyle is welcome to inspect our bedchamber to confirm the consummation.”

When Daemon scoffed, Otto held up a hand to silence him. The prince looked for a moment as though he might argue, but he was pulled back by his wife taking his hand. Rhaenyra gave him a stern look, whispered something in his ear, and he stilled.

“My dear, why wed in such haste? And in near complete secrecy?” Otto asked.

Arianwyn considered her words carefully. She knew Otto wanted her to tell the court everything – but he could not possibly know what he was asking.

With Brynna hurt and her marriage so publicly questioned, she dared not invoke more of Daemon’s wrath. Someday, he would pay for his crimes. But today, all Arianwyn wanted was to free her maid and remain by her husband’s side.

Vengence could come later.

“Aemond and I have been in love these many long years, even when separated,” she said. The truth, even if she had only just learned it. “We did not want to wait any longer for our families to negotiate a marriage contract or allow them to promise us to anyone else.”

That was a lie. But judging by the faces of the Small Council, it was at least a good one.

“I apologize for any pain our impatience has caused,” Arianwyn continued, inclining her head toward Alicent. “We have deprived our family of seeing us wed and all the celebration that comes with it. We married out of love, my Lord Hand. There is no more to say than that.”

The Hand again smiled at her, “Thank you, Arianwyn.”

She began to curtsy, but Aemond held her still. “You are wife to a prince,” he murmured, “You need not bow to him anymore.”

“Eustace,” Otto said, facing the man, “You performed the marriage?”

The Septon nodded. “I did, my Lord Hand.”

“And did the Lady Arianwyn show any reticence during the ceremony? Did she appear nervous or afraid?”

“No, my Lord Hand,” Eustace replied. “She was as happy as any bride I have ever seen. Happier, perhaps.”

Arianwyn blushed, squeezing Aemond’s hand. He tensed, then returned the gesture.

“Grand Maester,” Otto now plainly smiled as he turned to Orwyle, “can you indeed confirm the consummation?”

“I can do so now, if you think it necessary, my Lord Hand.”

“Thank you, but there is no need for haste. Can anyone else attest to the veracity of the marriage? Were there witnesses?”

Arianwyn’s heart soared as Sers Warren, Rolan, and Criston answered.

“Yes, lord.”

“Me, my lord.

“I would swear my sword to it.”

“I thank you, Sers, but I wager that will not be necessary.” Otto finally smiled as he swept his eyes past Arianwyn to his grandson. “Prince Aemond, is there anything you should like to say to the court?”

Aemond finally tore his eye away from Daemon, gaze softening as he looked upon Aria’s beautiful, hopeful face.

There was much he wanted to say.

He wanted to tell the whole court – the whole world – of Daemon’s crimes. He wanted to see him arrested and face the Father’s justice. And when he was executed, he wanted to be the one to swing the sword.

But Aria saw it all on his face, every sinful thought he had. She pulled him towards her, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and shook her head.

“No,” Aemond sighed. “Only that everything my wife has said is the truth.”

The Hand turned back to Daemon, “Well, my prince. It seems that the matter is settled. But there is still the question of your wound. Would you care to offer another explanation as to how you were injured?”

The Rogue Prince was practically steaming with rage. The sight awoke sinister pleasure within Aemond’s heart. He was about to retort, to mock his failure, when Aria released his hand.

She said nothing but pulled slightly on the end of the fur stole she wore so it fell just enough to expose her bruises, now clearly in the shape of a hand, but only to Daemon, his wife, and her bastard son.

Jacaerys gaped, looking as if he might cry. Rhaenyra looked shocked for a moment, then hissed something in Daemon’s ear as his face went as red as their house's sigil. Another hiss and he visibly forced the appearance of composure.

“No,” he bit out. “Seems it was an accident.”

Aria laughed – a light, blithe chuckle – wholly out of place at such a solemn occasion. But to Aemond, there was no sound more beautiful.

His wife may have silver eyes, but she was undoubtedly a dragon.

On the Iron Throne, Otto grinned. “An accident? What sort of accident?”

Daemon only sneered before Rhaenyra stepped in front of him, cutting off whatever biting remark he surely had planned.

“I think we have heard more than enough,” she said, the same forced diplomacy in her voice as the night before. “I suggest, my Lord Hand, that we dismiss this matter entirely as the unfortunate result of a father’s desire to protect his daughter and an excess of wine at dinner.”

Otto nodded, content in his victory.

“Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, “please take the lady Brynna to your tower and give her your greatest care. Dear lady, you have the sincere apology of the Crown, as well as my assurance that you will be compensated for your troubles.”

“Thank you, my Lord Hand.” With the aid of the Maester, Brynna stood and curtseyed. Then, as she was led out of the Throne Room, she flashed a quick grin at Aria, who slumped against Aemond in relief.

Wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, he used his free hand to fasten the stole once more. He let his fingers linger on her throat, focused on the feel of her pulse slowing, the pain in his face fading with each beat of her heart.

The moment the doors – those on the side of the hall, to avoid the crowd – closed behind Orwyle and Brynna, Rhaenyra stepped forward. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. I thank you for your hospitality. But I think it time we take our leave.”

“We hope to see you again soon, Princess,” Alicent replied.

Otto leaned forward. “If you would stay just a moment, we may announce the marriage to the court.” He gave a gesture to a guard to open the main doors once more. “After all, Lady Arianwyn is your firstborn.”

The crowd poured into the Throne Room before either Daemon or Rhaenyra could argue against it.

Aemond took a moment to savor the look of defeat on Daemon’s face and vowed that he would see it again.

On the day he killed him.

I came so close to using this bc Jace's face is just hilarious, but the Daemon pic is more fitting.

I no longer do taglists. If you'd like to be notified when I post, please follow @exitpursuedbyavulcan-writes and turn on notifications!

[ninjastar107]

Megaman classic AU misc stuff. not sure what to call the AU yet.

Light isn't the only one spearheading robotics. He had a hand in a number of blueprints for helper bots, but he's just one of a handful of scientists working on advanced robotics (Including Wily, Cossack, Lalinde, and a few others).

Blues really was a prototype. There's a lot of functions and parts that are missing in him that are present in Light's later humanoid robots. He was built a lot longer ago than Roll and Rock were, and was out of commission for a lot longer too. - Light, having a breakthrough with advanced AI, kept it sort of under the table. He decided after Blues disappeared that there were just too many issues for it to be stable enough to advertise. - He did a few years of biological structure studies to refine how he approached building humanoids.

Rock and Roll are a lot more refined, and their AI hardware is built a lot more on trial and error over datasets as many other robots were at the time. Light presented this type of hardware in a paper but it was met with some questioning on whether machines *should* be modeled after humans internally and externally. -Lalinde built Tempo shortly after, using a combination of both.

Wily is back seats some of Lights research with the ever saying of 'we're building machines to do the dangerous jobs' to cover for some of Lights more 'questionable' developments (that being building robots that can feel pain and a full range of emotions). - Wily builds a lot of the robot masters off of Protomans blueprints, seeing that the structures require less balance attuning and are cheaper to obtain/make. - He gets jealous of Light being the face of their work and sets Light's first line of robot masters out to cause trouble. Rock becomes megaman to stop him, much to Lights uncertainty.

Roll winds up meeting Blues while out and about with iceman. Neither of them know that each other are related, and Blues mistakes her for a human. They meet a few times this way until she mentions who her dad. - Little does she know that this is the same robot that's been the rival/mentor to her brother.

- Blues reveals himself after the end of megaman 5 (after being impersonated). He visits more often after this and lets Light do a vent-port modification. (Adding a few more heat release areas on his back plates.)

Rock and Roll occasionally stand out in the sunshine, often times their mornings consist with waiting outside for the sunrise. They both have solar cores, and various sections of their plating have solar panels inlaid into them.

Tempo runs on lithium batteries and an alternator, much like a motor vehicle. When she was damaged in a cave in, the battery did more damage to her than anything else. - When she is gearing up to do more extensive work, her alternator kicks in to keep her power usage low. She could run on gasoline but Lalinde tries not to encourage that due to environmental reasons.

Ill probably draw a few diagrams for major differences in blueprints. Maybe give a hand at drawing Bass's layout as well (who I forgot to think about for this AU until now, haha!)

[suffarustuffaru]

hello. its day 6 of rezero s3 fanweek (Alternate Universe / Absence / “No one would blame you.”) and so i have dug up more ancient texts (my old artwork) and BEHOLD. spiderman otto au jumpscare from three years ago (there was some lore attached to it so ill say a few bullet points of what lore i remember under the cut if you want) (includes a small drabble so ig that also counts for extra fanweek material?)

very very VERY loose marvel inspired au where otto is A spiderman and frederica was black cat (…yellow. cat. golden cat? gold cat? anyway.) and subaru is a deadpool esque figure (and secretly a former avenger ahahahahah and totally not contracted with echidna ahhaha dont worry about it). emilia was probably vaguely frozone from the incredibles / captain america inspired.

otto got his powers from a radioactive spider bite like most spiderpeople but he did that on purpose. to himself. (he was already a mutant of sorts who could talk to animals.) his little brother is totally not dead/missing due to mysterious circumstances and he is totally not a corporate employee for big shady government (russell fellow) and definitely not a vigilante in his free time. and that suit is definitely not sentimental to him or anything.

also he accidentally gains a new little brother ???????????????? anyway thats the main gist of this au that i still remember

ALSO I MADE A WHOLE SPIDERVERSE-ESQUE INTRO FOR HIM YEARS AGO here you can have it. I was gonna draw it all but as you can see i didnt finish it pfft so have it in text form instead !!

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Otto Suwen. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. And for the past six months, I’ve been the one and only Green Lynx.

And—And I’m named that because of the green lynx spider, not because I-I’m a lynx cat! I sewed web patterns into this outfit, alright?! I’ve put so much time, effort, and money into this! This design had to be perfect…

Anyway, I think you can guess the rest. Saved the city, talked more cats out of trees, helped save the city again, got new glasses—they were free, by the way, they just needed some… fixing… broke my back on patrol once, got shit on by birds, they said it was an accident, I ran into several buildings, my cape got caught under a car once, twice, maybe three times, made some terrible money decisions, don’t ever invest in oil—aha, that’s just my luck.

But don’t worry! I handle it all very, very well. I just don’t do friends anymore. (kicks away letters from his family) (ghosts messages from his family) I needed to focus more on my career, you know? I can’t afford to get distracted by anything.

(insert ending where he proceeds to get distracted by something, probably like him going back to his apartment and OOP WHY IS THERE A FERAL CAT OF A TEENAGER IN HERE)

Like I said. (insert panicked speech bubbles of AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA from both garf and otto) I don’t get distracted by anything.

[pkmoth]

so i guess i have a mother series homestuck au now !! not sure how much ill end up posting and how much will be stuck in google docs purgatory but we'll see!! take these doodles for now :)

(rambling + Slight alternate design under the cut)

(i didnt know if i wanted them to be mirror twins or not so here's this alt)

these are kiiiinda placeholder outfits until they can alchemize their own stuff, i just wanted them to match at least a little bit at first because. twins. i don't think they're twins in the sense that barzum and baizli are (where they're "one mind, two bodies" or however they put it) though i like to think they can maybe communicate telepathically?

no idea what their signs would be yet but i have been sloooowly chipping away at classpecting Everyone. trying to have no dupe classes/aspects is HARD (and also i'm just not the best at classpecting i think) (i've gotten like. 3/12 figured out for sure and that's after thinking about it for a few days)

thank goodness i'm only making the mother 3 group trolls, i wouldn't wanna figure out typing quirks for all of them sdkfhskfhsk

uhhh what else can i talk about hmm. i've got a vague idea of the plot for the mother 1 + earthbound groups but i'm having kinda a rough one figuring out how it connects to the world of mother 3. the porky situation is..... complicated in this au. i think i need to have a better grasp of his character and motives before i can continue brainstorming, which is frustrating but ehh its whatever

that was a longer ramble than i thought i was gonna do!! have a cookie if you made it this far o/🍪!! also, i know i already made a post about it but WOW do the twins look cursed with black hair. combined with the fact i already draw claus pretty off model its hard to see them as the characters they are skdfhsdkfhjfh oh well

[allthelittlecreepycrawlies]

With A Flap Of Wings, Part One

(okay. here we go.)

Warnings for the overall story: Implications/mentions of suicide, miscarriage.

Tags: Nie-family centric, alternate timeline, time travel fix-it, ghosts, suicide, everybody lives (I know how weird it sounds having both, you gotta trust me here), no-war timeline

----------------

Nie Huaisang sits and stares at the closed stone doors of the tomb that contains the bodies of nearly all of his family, or at least their sabers.

All except for his brother, who remains trapped in that heavens-damned coffin.

The pile of aged papers in his lap rustle in the chilly breeze, but he barely pays attention, even though the pages are the answer to one of the many questions that had been plaguing him since the first time the ritual to purify his brother’s soul had failed. 

Since the first time the time-jumping ritual had failed.

He can't remember how many times he's cast it, using his own blood to dive into the past, only to inevitably be flung back here no matter how deep he went or which events he changed.

But now he understands. 

All of the monsters and ugly twists of fate that had targeted his family... they had only been symptoms of the disease. 

He is the cause. 

He, the ill-omened child who killed his own mother with his first breath, is the one who brought calamity on all who ever knew him, death and misfortune dogging his steps before he could even walk.

This, all of this, is because of him.

But he can still fix it. 

Maybe none of the other attempts had worked, but that was because he hadn't known where to weed out the rot threatening the garden. 

Now, he does. 

Closing his eyes and bracing himself, he draws the knife from his belt for what he desperately hopes will be the last time.

–- 

Nie Leiyun is six months into her pregnancy –one month away from what would have been her death from hemorrhaging during an arduous childbirth– when she staggers and has to catch herself on a table, suddenly overcome by a horrible throbbing pain in her guts. 

But it's when the pain stops, everything inside her going unnaturally still, that she actually starts to panic and sinks down to sit on the floor, trying to call out and unable to make her voice work. 

A maid rushing to help her back to her feet is the first to see the blood starting to stain her robes and the stone beneath her, and she’s the one who screams for the healers when Nie Leiyun can’t. 

Despite all their efforts, the healers are only able to save one life. 

Once, in a timeline that has just been erased, it was the child. 

This time, it's the mother.

---

The grief that falls over the sect is heavy. 

No one seems to be more crushed by it than Nie Mingjue. 

All of six years old, he had been adamant that he didn't want a sibling and had complained to anyone who would listen. Babies were stinky and dumb and boring and either cried all the time or made messes everywhere. Gross.

And now the baby is dead, dead and gone, and no amount of hugs or kind words can convince the boy that he hadn't somehow wished his little brother away. 

Nie Haoran and Nie Linsong are gentle with their wife and son's grief -it had been Linsong's own struggles with having another child that had prompted the second wedding, after all- and it's Linsong who makes a fateful suggestion one night as the two of them are sitting by the fire one evening, Linsong spoiling her falcon with some extra preening assistance and Leiyun mending some clothing. 

"The only reason you put your search on hold was because the pregnancy was becoming too harsh on your health, wasn't it? Why not pick it back up again now once you've recovered a little?" 

---

Three and a half months later, Nie Leiyun hears rumors of a high-ranking courtesan in Yunping who has been making waves among the cultivation gentry. This by itself is nothing new, she has investigated over a dozen other women who ended up in the brothels like she originally had and have since risen to some level of fame, some even attracting the attention of sect leaders like she had. 

But none of those women had been outright carrying her long-abandoned surname of Meng. 

She does her best not to get her hopes up, but luck is on her side for a change, and three days after she first hears the whispers, Nie Leiyun -Meng Xiu- clutches her sister Meng Shi in a tearful embrace. 

She doesn't know how to feel about the tiny boy that her sister introduces her to. He is not yet two years old, so close to her Sang-er. 

They could have grown up cousins. 

Friends. 

But now- 

She wipes her eyes and puts aside her selfishness. Yao-er can still be a cousin and friend to Mingjue, and he and her sister both deserve far better than this place. 

She takes them home.

[hollow-lime-green]

Waitwaitwaitwaitwait HOLD ON. YOU WROTE A JAYVIK FIC?!?!?!? Any chance we can get more of your expertise with season 2 content...👀🙏

season 1 act 1 jayvik seized me with the uncontrollable urge to make them kiss in the study

I do want to write something for season 2, but to be honest I just haven't figured out what that is yet. I have played around a bit with alt timeline ideas but nothing solid. (S2 spoilers and ramble under the cut)

I'm actually as insufferable about league lore as I am about jjk lore. Slightly less but still definitely like, 'um ackshually'. Which is why for all of S2 (and since the end of S1) I was like, 'wait how the fuck are they going to get Viktor to his canon endgame appearance.' silly me they just said fuck canon (which I strongly respect and appreciate by the way - love the eldritch, love all the retcon, no notes. I love where they went with Viktor and how they gave nuance and depth to his character and didn't feel tied to the og jayce-viktor canon).

Anyway so I asked my friends "okay so where is Viktor in this alternate timeline?" Because I'm thinking, ooh I could do something with this. I could make him chemtech. He could be Singed's lab assistant. We could do a jaded poor street urchin take - hm but that doesn't work with the opportunities we see afforded to zaunite Ekko and Powder. But whatever I can make it work-

"well he's dead isn't he? they never cured his illness"

wait shit.

yeah.

people aren't talking about the fact that Viktor is just straight up dead in the fun ekko everyone's gay timeline. I mean it doesn't matter but it's kind of funny that I forgot that obviously that is what happens. that's the whole thing y'know, the good intentions paving jayce's path to hell. I can't believe I forgot the whole thing.

Anyway I might write something for S2. I just don't know what. I actually don't ship jayvik that hard. Not that I think there can't be romance there, but I mean it when I say I legit think it's a secret third thing that is indescribably complicated and I don't think romance is even near the top of what is most dominant in that dynamic. but consider: I would love to write jayce getting fucked by the void arm

Another thing like - this is just off the dome so don't judge my coherency here. Somehow powerbomb feels so incredibly gay? I don't know how to describe this but despite it being heterosexual, it draws me the way that only gay ships have ever done. And I think, if I had to guess, it is because Ekko is one of the first straight male characters that I've seen in a long time that gets to be like, scared and inexperienced with romance in the way that I would traditionally see in gay ships esp in the 2010s (my formative years as you know). Obviously they are giving insanely bi4bi energy. I don't think they let anyone in zaun be cishet, I think it's part of the alternate universe rules actually.

they did Ekko so fucking good in arcane. I liked him in S1 too, but man I was worried they were going to drop the ball and nope the writers are actually just great. I have never felt compelled to write and read het the way I felt in ep 7. I have never wanted a straight (bisexual) man to win the way I wanted Ekko to win. (This I think exacerbates the pacing complaints - because sharing this ep with jayce was an L because both sides could have had more exploration. Actually I think jayce needed it more because I believe Viktor is actually specifically using Void magic (as in kogmaw kaisa belveth void) and I think that would be much more clear and better if we had more time to make those connections. But I can rant about that other time)

And maybe part of that is self selected media, these moments and experiences aren't necessarily common in what I read/watch, esp since I am selecting for LGBT romance not het. but anyway, I feel like we criticize so often and so loudly when representation fails, and I want to point out that Arcane should really be celebrated for actively actively actively representing a.) nontoxic masculinity b.) POC in extremely powerful poitions in the narrative (ambessa, mel, ekko, SEVIKA MY FUCKING QUEEN)

P.s. I would also like to write about Sevika being softened by the touch of a woman but I cannot for the life of me figure out who that would be. I will talk more about Sevika some other time bc as an Indian woman myself I intensely intensely cherish portrayals of Indian women that are not "the smart rational one who imposes power with great control and distance". Not that Sevika isn't smart but she is also other things like strong and butch.

[buckpaws]

sometimes my ideas go so fast i cant keep up with them anyway

literally obsessed with caustuit role reversal just straight up being the most crazy happenstance thing. yeah theyre completely reversed like. he is younger she is older, things happen differently. but if they were to witness it they would be completely blindsided by the mundaneness of how their alternative lives play out. alexander is a hero dragging people on fire out of humbert labs during an (actual) accident, when all caustic did was correct the valve pressure in one silo on one random day when he was younger. rowenna remembers SO vividly that monarch with the symbol of the nexus sun... only if she were 20 years older she would have been the pilot of that titan. and her opinions would be different. she would have worried herself sick over the power vacuum left after the monarchy was overthrown, how diwa (also a pilot) would have given everything. and so. she did it first. her last command to her beloved monarch was to detonate and end the conflict. rowenna died a hero but conduit has more to undo.

its literally the same fucking caustuit dynamic i love in reverse. alexander is straight up like i have cancer and im dying in 6 months if im lucky. dont tell me what i desire. AGUHHHHH *hitting head against my cage bars* ive written this exact thing. but having young zesty alexander with a whole life ahead of him. still shrewd and calculating but not cruel. that beautiful woman with dark eyes that almost flicker with affection when she sees the athletic reckless genius idiot trying to help her. the streaks of gray in her messy hair and the lines around her eyes that crinkle when he makes her grin beneath her mask. HDFGNSNFVAaygh aUUUGH YAY TROUBLED MILFS!!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCK

also yeah diwa fulfils a crypto-esque role here and completely susses her out immediately. maybe even..joins the apex games for her family and to save her wayward sister...he.he.heh..... i really love these characters. btw if ur wondering tae joon and mila are chilling at home (worrying about their brother and the syndicate) but i have a drawing planned for that so ill save it..

[bigcowboydyke]

Hi there, saw your post about disabled people in art, I'd love some refs so practice with if you don't mind sharing! My first step to tackling any new subjects is figure studies but I don't wanna go to Pinterest for something so often ill represented. Thanks in advance <3

My understanding, though I admit I am not an artist, is that the best way to learn to draw real life forms and figures once you've already got the basics is to find subjects in real life, and draw them. To this end, I would suggest finding a disabled model to sit for you, and paying them well for their time. I think it is the most disability justice oriented way to go about it, and I recommend it.

It is a common misconception that disabled people in the arts, particularly the visual and dramatic arts, are few and far between. If you are polite, earnest, and communicative about the pay, duration, accessibility of setting, purpose of the piece, etc. I do not see it being very difficult to find one. I would first find somebody who knows the ethics and means of how to go about asking and whatnot better than I do. Like don't start accosting disabled folks in the street or anything.

Alternatively, there are also quite a few disabled artists who primarily portray disabled bodies. Studying those works might be informative. I would suggest starting with the works of Riva Lehrer. Her self-portrait, 66 degrees, is maybe the most beautiful painting I've ever seen and my favorite to date. Talking to disabled artists, specifically those that also portray disabled bodies, might be enlightening.

Last but not least, there are plenty of disabled public figures who model or act professionally and thus have a large body of photography accessible online of them. I am a big fan of the model Aaron Rose Phillip. There are many Youtubers and tiktokers who are disabled and even limb different specifically and have that kind of purposeful visibility as well.

Hope that helps 🙏

[uptoolateart]

Dreaming Wide Awake

It’s okay, guys - I’m fixing this mess.

Prologue:

It was perfect. Everything about this day…absolute perfection.

The sun blazed high overhead, so bright that the world seemed to glow at the edges with an almost otherworldly light. His friends swarmed the pool in the back garden, laughing and splashing each other. And after so long yearning to heal the rift that had sprung up between him and his cousin, even Felix was there, with Kagami.

It had been hard, learning the news of his father’s death – especially because they hadn’t left things on a good note. Though…it was hard to remember just what they had fought about, the last time he’d seen his father. Just…there had been something…something he’d been angry about….

But if he could no longer call it to mind, it probably didn’t matter. After all, it didn’t do to speak ill of the dead.

They said time was the great healer, and that seemed to be true. Because here they were, two months later, finally able to celebrate the life of the man who had sacrificed himself for Paris – for the world. The time for tears was over. His father would have wanted him to move on with his life. That was the kind of loving, selfless father Gabriel was.

Perhaps sensing his thoughts, his mother looked up at him, over the pool, her eyes locking onto his. She cast him a warm smile, the kind that always made him feel instantly better, no matter how hard things got. He felt a stab of guilt at the relief he felt that it had been his father and not her. One was bad enough. But if anything ever happened to his mother….

He swallowed and smiled back. Best not dwelling on ‘what ifs’. Best to focus on what was.

Marinette pressed his hand, drawing his attention back to her, at his side on the stone bench. She was the best thing about this day, surrounded by a trellis of roses, her blue eyes sparkling.

‘You okay?’ she asked.

‘Better than okay.’ He kissed her again, hard and hungrily, unable to help himself.

Laughing, she pushed him away just enough to look at him. ‘Slow down. Sometimes it’s like you think you’re going to get dragged away from me. You know I’m right here. No one’s taking me from you.’

He stared at her, his chest heaving.

He knew. Of course he knew. Even if some strange paranoid part of his brain told him this wasn’t true. Someone wanted to keep them apart, but…he couldn’t think who.

For some reason, his eyes were drawn down to his finger, where he now wore his father’s old wedding band. It was hard to remember just when or how this was given to him. But it was there now and….

Freedom.

The word flashed in his head.

That was the beauty of this day. The magic. He’d never felt so free.

But…did that mean he’d once been trapped? That…didn’t make sense….

Maybe he was just feeling guilty – for not being there in the end. For leaving Ladybug to find another partner, in his moment of weakness, when the most he could do was remove his miraculous and send Plagg to find a new holder. There was some irony in that holder turning out to be his own father. Or maybe some poetry.

The world worked in mysterious ways. All that mattered was that he was here, in this moment, with the girl he loved. There had been pain and sadness but…somehow things had worked out. They had all got their happy ending.

Yes, it truly was perfect.

So what was that niggling feeling at the back of his mind, as if there were something he’d once known but had now forgotten? What was this sense of dread creeping through him at the idea of turning around and staring at the stone wall behind him? That sense that he might look and see something else – something other than a plain stone slab – a carving, perhaps, of a figure that was no longer there….

Full fic at Ao3

Tags:

Follow-up to Season 5

I already had enough long fics to write

Then the season finale made me angry

And now I'm writing this to make myself feel better

The perfect resolution is not perfect after all

Adrien is troubled by flashes of an alternative reality no one is talking about

He's going to get the closure he deserves

Damn the writers for adding more to my plate when I already have enough to do

psychological confusion

[ilovedthestars]

[wiggles] Azula for the ask game!

Oooooh...

(Send me a character ask)

First impression

Via fandom osmosis: There's a snarky evil fire nation girl. Also, Zuko has a sister. Also, there's somebody named Azula, who always lies. These were barely connected in my mind.

Also, when I started watching the show I kept thinking about this comic, which I'd seen but half-forgotten. It definitely gave me an impression of Zuko and Azula's relationship that was a bit more mixed/positive than what appears in the show.

Impression now

Love to hate her, but also, yikes, poor girl. She shows us another side of how royally messed up the Fire Nation royal family is, and she's a good foil to Zuko. I...don't really like her on a character level that much, though? She didn't leave that strong of an impression on me.

Favorite moment

My favorite moments with Azula are mostly moments of her defeat, lol. I loved seeing Mai and Ty Lee turn against her in...I think it was The Boiling Rock. Realizing that she didn't have total control over those around her! Although maybe I like this more because of Mai and Ty Lee's friendship and bravery than because of Azula, to be honest.

Idea for a story

Drawing a blank on this one. She just doesn't interest me like that!

Unpopular opinion

Idk what's popular or unpopular, but I didn't really like her ending? To me it felt like her final breakdown leaned a little too hard into some uncomfortable stereotypes about mental illness. And also, even though Ozai's mistreatment is very much an acknowledged part of that, I think I expected a kids show like Avatar to give her a bit more compassion at the end for what she went through. (I'm thinking of the ending of She-Ra and how it treated even long-term villains.) Maybe I'm forgetting something, but I think the last we see of her is at her lowest low, and that makes me kinda sad.

Favorite relationship

Azula & Zuko are fascinating as foils. They were both victimized, but she fought for favor by pushing him down. He seems to want to trust her, at least for a while, but knows he can't. She's fully prepared to use him. Even in the flashbacks we see when they're both very young, they don't get along. I wonder if post-canon they ever have the chance to build a positive relationship.

Favorite headcanon

Don't know if it counts as a headcanon, I am fond of the alternate universe in that comic I linked above. It shows a very different kind of secretive and manipulative Azula, one I'd be interested in seeing more of.

[fowl-leaf]

my 2023 summary of art!

Template:here

still not consistently posting anywhere, but I like doing these. they're fun there's a lot of things i would've liked to include but had to exclude, due to not being shareable on this account. maybe i'll have more stuff next year!

this is long, so details under the cut

JANUARY silly lizard oc i generally dont do much single line hatching, so it was nice to fiddle with it this time

FEBRUARY the wittle scrunkly lizard last time i drew this one, they were an lps shitpost, so its nice to like draw them normally lol

MARCH herman is running out of time glasses axolotl but make him neon idk

APRIL fancy calico i honestly dont know whats up with the clothes, i just kinda drew whatever tbh

MAY yippie!! toontown oc! was playing ttcc w/shard and co, this is the character i ended up making i also got covid around april-march iirc so i was feeling horrid for a while (and the remaining symptoms didnt clear up till like june)

JUNE an oc i got years ago but didnt have the confidence to draw for a while lmao anyways i like her colors and shape, she's fun

JULY mandatory artfight posting this was one of the last ones i did! ocs belong to pookapooka and they were so fun to paint

idk if ill be doing artfight again tbh. ive been doing it consistently since sun vs moon but its honestly felt less fun ever since the tiktok invasion`and how ppls behavior has changed, and especially since the whole ownership thing that happened mid fight this year. (not interested in any of the alternatives ive seen either bc they have the same issues, notably worse issues, or are not furry friendly) but tbh that might just be me being disenchanted with online art spaces due to the intensifying shittification of basically everything, fucking rip

AUGUST ring but hes going to jail (again but for real this time) the staxie monthly prompt was barbie mugshots but i . . . i did this with ring and lumos and promptly forgor to do this with cakes and ale like i was planning to lmfao im actually gonna watch the barbie movie tonight, renting it so i can watch it on the big tv (didnt watch in theaters bc expensive (movie tickets are generally 15-25 bucks in my area (compared to the 5-10 in my aunt's area (renting is cheaper per person)), and they changed the chairs to these weird uncomfy pleather recliners that make my skin crawl to "justify the price raise" + i hate sitting for more than an hour i need water, bathroom, stretch, and snack breaks))

SEPTEMBER ganache went over the hedge was very busy w/projects so i did little casual art this was inspired by me comparing the over the hedge version of supermarket by ben folds (upbeat & high energy) vs the one by the clash (melancholy + commercial-induced agony) ever since then i cant stop thinking abt how much the lemon demon guy's voice sounds like the fucking clash guy sdjkhfkjsd also over the hedge was one of my favorite movies as a kid and i watched it at least 10 times before we had to return the dvd to netflix. i also regularly played the flash games on the site until i forgot about it after finding out about miniclip + notdoppler from other kids and decided to use those for flash games instead bc more options lol

OCTOBER dta img for a new oc i got, funny long neck budgie thingy busy w/projects again so little casual art had to use old mini tablet bc previous tablet was completely unusable fucking rip

NOVEMBER ganache + cactus pony, they want to know if you have any bubblegum. do you? busy w/projects again so little casual art doodle i made in heavypaint (one of the old layerless versions, i bought a lisence for it a while ago.) i got a new tablet on black friday since the mini tablet was horrible + my broken tablet was making me work very slow

DECEMBER ring in the void (this is lore accurate) or as nic put it, "fucked up twilight sparkle" lol busy w/projects + gifts so little casual art i actually sketched this w/the mini tablet, but didnt finish it up till getting the new tablet

---

for reading this far, you get to see amogus.

i would've put amogus whisper on the chart but decided against it since im not done with that one yet lmao