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CW mild gore

Moon Visions au by @shima-draws from fucking AGES ago. Def check them out tho, they make some incredible art not tts related!

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gregor the underland chronicles is literally so fundamental to me. this boy is a natural born killer. trained to be a martyr. and he is kind. he is angry. he cares so much for the unloved. he is always willing to give people a chance, so aware of how others can change. the warrior and son of the sun. the intersection of protection and destruction. and he is 11/12 years old.

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legitimately my first feminist awakening as a ten year old child was realizing that girls were expected to respect “boy stuff” but boys were never expected to respect “girl stuff”

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Many Varians. He’s so blue

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Team Radical o7

Bonus watercolor I made at work and a thank you to the 8yr old who called Nuru a ballerina, Varian a police officer, Yong a firefighter, and Hugo a swimmer

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modern empath crisis of faith

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Mini VAT7K Drabble

“Sure they both look like they’ve worked outside, but Varian could just as easily be the son of— that guy!” His arm flew outward toward the first person he saw from the window: an old, scraggly bearded man barely a meter tall and leaning heavily on a goat. Yong gave him a flat look. “Okay bad example, but still!”

Hugo had yet to make it past the mental hurdle of Quirin fathering Varian, which in all fairness, Yong and Nuru were very perplexed by too, but they weren’t the ones having a tantrum over it. Nuru had begun to tune their friend out around ten minutes ago to start scribbling out long, complex equations only to solve them a moment later. Yong, Hugo, and Nuru were brought into Varian’s childhood home to spend the night before completing the final trial and opening the Eternal Library. Quirin had been delighted to welcome Varian’s friends, ushering them in without even a brief assessment of their characters. Varian had looked deeply embarrassed when Hugo asked, admitting that he wasn’t known for making friends, let alone ones his age. Not long after they were settled in the guest bedroom, Quirin had called his son down to help prepare a meal with him, leaving the three friends to muse on the genetic gymnastics that occurred to bring about Varian.

“Maybe he gets it from his mom?” Yong pondered aloud. He withdrew a comb that Hugo didn’t know Yong owned and started to rake it through the burned ends of his hair. They were all a mess. A year on the road had not been kind on their appearances. Hugo was ashamed to say that he hadn’t kept up with his usually close shave along the sides and back of his scalp, allowing the hair there to grow and give him a fluffier look. Most of his clothes had holes in them or stained with some chemical or other. Being Yong’s assistant certainly didn’t help with the smell of gunpowder or the charred nature of his sleeves.

But Nuru was probably the messiest of them all. Her title as Princess was as reflective as her shoes. That is to say, not at all. She had taken up the mantle of navigator with an enthusiasm Hugo hadn’t expected, and she trudged through muck and high water to get them to each trial. A flashback to her waving her sword at a sneezeweazel and the subsequent chase through thorny bramble to get away left their sleeves torn and skin razed made Hugo cringe. The only things Nuru ever managed to keep tidy were her star maps—rest in peace to her skirt of constellations—and her sword. Although she used it frequently to cut through foliage on their journey, Nuru kept her whetstone close and sharpened her blade every night. Even her poor telescope wasn’t kept in as good a condition as her weapon, once using it as a makeshift club to bludgeon a bandit on the road.

Yong, ironically, had most of his things intact. Although that probably wasn’t a testament to how well Yong managed his stuff and more how much Varian kept Yong’s belongings safe for him. Far too often, Varian would be launching forward from his place around the campfire to sweep Yong’s backpack of explosives away from the flames. In fact, Hugo was confident that all of the bags hitched to Prometheus belonged to the pyromaniac. That isn’t to say that Yong made it through their adventures scott-free. When the bounty hunters hired by Yong’s parents caught up to them, Yong had gone a bit off the deep end, tying all of his available fireworks together and nearly blowing the men’s’ heads off. Standing behind an explosion like that turned nearly off of Yong into a pile of ash. He was covered in burns and his eardrums didn’t stop ringing for several hours after. And yet at the end of it all, Varian had pulled the teenager aside with a fresh set of clothes and a pair of flame retardant gloves for Yong to wear.

And speaking of Varian. Easily the clumsiest of the group, Varian was coated head to toe in grime. Even as he fussed over the safety of his friends, or maybe because he worried over them, Varian would fall into the most trouble. Be it from Hugo purposely antagonizing some stranger on the road, Nuru not looking away from the stars long enough to see the sudden dip of the hill she was walking towards, or Yong tampering with one of Hugo’s stink bombs to make them spark, Varian did his best to take the blow. It was annoying. Hugo definitely deserved to be the one with a bucket of muddy water thrown at his face, and it would have been really funny to watch Nuru trip and tumble over the slope, and god did Hugo wish he saw Yong receive his comeuppance when a stray bomb tumbled from his mischievous grip, but Varian had already thrown himself over Yong and stank to high heaven for three days.

While the guy had objectively gotten worse in terms of appearances, Hugo couldn’t seem to choke down the butterflies that emerged when Varian’s dirt covered face appeared and twisted into a grin from the doorway. A pair of cooking mitts the only non-road trodden thing about him now.

“Dinner’s ready!” He cheered, spinning back out and toward the stairs. Hugo spared himself one last look, sighed, and followed after.

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VARIGO WEEK 2025 EVERYBODY!!!

*insert Mariah Carey doing the "it's time!" meme here*

Okay, my shitty graphic design skills put aside here is the official prompt list for this year's Varigo Week!!!

Day One - "Because I love you idiot!"

Day Two - Empty stomach

Day Three - Inspired by song lyrics

Day Four - "I'm just so tired"

Day Five - Bad habits

Day Six - Listening

Day Seven - Free day!

So this is just a fun, silly challenge week to celebrate our favorite Disney rejected ship with no limits or rules. EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE!

I ask- nay, I implore you to PLEASE DO NOT USE AI FOR THIS! The whole point is to show your love for these silly little gay scientists and just using a computer takes all the heart out of it. It dosnt matter if you don't think your good at creating, whatever quick doodle or cheesy fanfic is a hundred times better than whatever a computer can come up with. Please, I promise everyone will love it just don't use the fucking computer.

Anyways, yeah this doesn't really have any other rules, just to have fun. The dates are June 8th through June 14th and you don't have to make something for everyday (but that's why I post this a few months in advance to give people time to prepare) so absolutely no pressure, just do as much as you feel like doing and you can do absolutely whatever you want to participate like fanart, fanfic, cosplay, animatics or anything else you can come up with, it's free game people!

When the time comes, tag it under VarigoWeek2025! (You can tag me too if you want to but it's not necessary) and if you have any questions or want more details feel free to ask me on my blog or comment and make sure to reblog to spread the word<3!

-ImMadAtDisney

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Write this down write this down

Writing Tips

Punctuating Dialogue

✧

➸ “This is a sentence.”

➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.

➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”

➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”

➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”

➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”

➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.

“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.

“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”

➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”

➸ “Hey!” she shouted, “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”

However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!

➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.

If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)

➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“

“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.

➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.

➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”

➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.

“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”

➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.

“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”

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I could see this as an excerpt from a fantasy novel this is so so good! Love your writing!!

Haeli was tired of this.

From riches to rags and a chain around the neck, twin shackles on the wrists and twin shackles on the thighs, her knees were numb and eyes blind in the depths of the palace. She was cold, freezing cold, wrapped in the embrace of her kingdom’s corpse and the shadow of her younger self.

The air shifted. Haeli didn’t bother looking up at the shadow that appeared before her, only tried to steel herself, keep herself from cowering in fear of her captor, but she knew her efforts to keep a strong front were futile. She didn’t need light to see his smirk, to see him looking down on her the way a hunter looked upon their most prized taxidermied head.

He tossed a pile of clothes in front of her. “Put these on. You have a ball to attend.”

She was silent, staring blankly ahead. He kicked the clothes into her face, making her flinch and pull against the collar around her neck chained to the cold floor underneath her. She coughed as her captor knelt down to her level, his gloved hand taking her by her jaw. “Your sister wants you there, you know, against my better judgement. After all, why would a mute exile want to attend such an event?”

Haeli tried to bite his hand, to which he pulled away quickly, clicking his tongue. “Now now, don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” He chuckled. “You ought to behave yourself; the more you behave, the more time you spend with your dear Charlotte.”

Haeli could do nothing but grit her teeth and bite her tongue. Charlotte… she hadn’t seen her younger sister in five years. How she would love to hug her and speak to her again instead of hiding away from the eyes of their parents. Of course, with the current situation, she could only do the former…

Her captor unchained her from the floor, leaving her collar and shackles on. “Get dressed, before I dress you myself.”

Haeli couldn’t tell which would be worse, him forcefully dressing her or him just watching as she dressed. She fumbled around for the clothes in the dark — it would have been nice for him to provide some light, but she supposed the struggle was part of the torture or for his amusement. Hesitantly, she relieved herself of her old tattered garments, slipping into whatever clothing he provided her with as quickly as she could, then remained standing.

A gloved hand took her by the shoulder, making her flinch and stiffen. In a blink, her captor teleported both of them into an empty but brightly lit dressing room. The sudden change in lighting made Haeli cry out without a sound as she pressed her hands to her eyes. “Oh dear,” her captor said flatly. “So sorry, I should have let your eyes get adjusted slower.”

If she had a voice, Haeli would have screamed. Instead, she settled with grabbing her captor’s arm and wrist, throwing him forward over her shoulder and into the ground with a grunt. She squinted through the light, seeing his grimace on the ground for only a split second before she felt the collar around her throat tighten. Haeli stumbled back, clawing at the piece of metal as her captor stood, brushing off his suit and adjusting his tie as he did. She struggled, gasping for air while he merely smiled. “Pull yourself together, Princess,” he taunted. The collar loosened enough to let her breathe, and she leaned against the nearest wall to collect herself. “You wouldn’t want Charlotte seeing you so… submissive, now would you?”

Haeli couldn’t even bring herself to glare at the royal advisor. She swallowed slowly, looking up at the vanity mirrors that lined the opposite wall from her. She was dressed in simple servant’s clothing, barely on the same level as what the royal servants would wear at the dances her parents used to host. The collar and shackles were illusioned to be modest jewelry to the eye, but she could still feel the metal bands against her skin. Her hair had gone from honey blonde to her original caramel brown, her eyes now a lusterless bronze. This was the face of who Haeli left behind the night of her exile; the face of the princess she used to be, but if this was indeed a ball she was going to, she would be nothing more than someone’s handmaiden.

Haeli shuddered. Of course he was taking her as his handmaiden, but the face of an exile was sure to keep her out, right? The royal advisor smiled at her. “Come along, Princess Arielle.” He opened the door. “You’re making me late.”

Arielle. The name rested in her bones, a name she hadn’t been called in five years. She felt sick, the ghost of her younger self settling around her like a suffocating disguise, a possession. Arielle.

Haeli took a breath. Princess Arielle was well-trained, taught to be compliant, to preserve poise under captivity. So she fixed her hair and smoothed her outfit as best she could. She straightened her back and rested her hands in front of her. Comply. How she hated compliance. But if that’s how she was to see her sister again, then so be it.

He led the way to the ballroom, Arielle close at his heels as if he were leading her in chains. She tried to keep her head up, keep some semblance of pride. The faces of the people — her people — struck guilt deep in her chest. She could still name the royal guards they passed on duty — Charlie, Regin, Aurore, Selene — as they reached the doors to the ballroom. She looked around. If this was a ball, shouldn't there be more people? He pushed the doors of the ballroom open — he was always one for drama — and in they walked.

Hundreds of people turned to look at them, at her. Whispers set off in waves, echoing throughout the entire ballroom. A princess has a spine of steel, her mother once told her. Head up, back straight, look forward with the pride of your country behind you. Arielle could see her mother at the head of the room, to the right of her sister.

Her sister. Princess Charlotte. Her heart urged her to rush forward and embrace her; her lost sister has finally come home to protect her, help her again and take her place on the throne alongside her. Charlotte looked upon Arielle with an unreadable expression, making her think twice, think against racing to her with joy and relief.

They stopped before the steps to the thrones, both of them bowing generously. “Rise.”

Arielle snapped up. That was her voice. As strange as it sounded separated from her body, she recognized her tone, regality hammered into a single word resonating throughout the room.

Princess Charlotte walked down the steps of the elevated platform where the thrones rested, the king and queen watching carefully. Two members of the High Royal Guard joined her at the base of the steps, one on either side of her. Both were old friends of Arielle’s — the one on Charlotte’s right was Nyx Reve, the one on Charlotte’s left was Ally LeSain — and both remained loyal to the throne that was no longer hers to claim. Charlotte looked at the royal advisor who brought Arielle in. “Welcome, Lord Lucien Envarius.”

There it was again. Arielle’s lost — stolen — voice coming from the mouth of her sister. He took my voice to give to her, she realized in shock. Five years ago, Lucien stole Charlotte’s voice away, a side effect of ���cleansing” her of her magical abilities. Now, Lucien was the one who gave her voice back. Arielle would have done it herself back then, if she only knew how to. Instead, she was exiled, forced to leave her sister’s side over self-defense, and her family put their trust in the least trustworthy being in the country.

Charlotte turned her gaze to Arielle. “Hello, sister.” Arielle felt a pang in her chest. “You’ve got guts to come here with such a high head. Most traitors kneel, begging for forgiveness for their actions.”

Arielle did nothing but dip her head slightly. She’s so angry…

Charlotte watched her, waiting. “Do you remember what happened five years ago,” she started, her new voice level and careful, “when I was sick, so ill I couldn’t speak? Do you remember what happened five years ago when I was asleep in my room, resting?”

Arielle tried to speak. Of course I remember. How could I ever forget? No sound came from her mouth.

Charlotte looked on, as if amused. “I see. Now you’re the mute one. How ironic, how perfect it is that you have what you left me with.”

Arielle frowned. You know I didn’t mean to leave you suddenly in that state, you know I was exiled—

“Let’s recap what happened the night of your exile. I was sleeping, resting peacefully when I was woken by a ruckus, a ruckus caused by you murdering Lauren, my personal guard.”

That’s not what happened at all! she wanted to yell. Barely a breath had left her lips when she felt the collar tighten in warning and saw her two old friends shift into a defensive position, ready to shield their princess. She glanced at Lucien, who was watching the scene with a smirk. Arielle must have reacted, moving slightly without realizing.

“You felt so threatened by my success in my training at eight years old that you committed murder in the palace and attempted to kill me in my sleep.” The people were murmuring amongst each other now. Arielle knew the rumors that flew after her exile; this wasn’t a ball, this was a public trial, a confirmation of facts that weren’t even facts. “For five years afterward, I was so traumatized I couldn’t speak, and the minute I regained my voice through the help of Advisor Envarius, you’re here again, and yet you feel no remorse for what you have done?”

The anger, the hurt, the betrayal spoken from her sister’s mouth in her own voice made a home in Arielle’s chest, a weight so heavy she thought she would break. But she would not break, not here, not now. Instead, it brought her down, down to one knee, down to two, down to all fours until she had her arms extended forward, her forehead on the ground like a begging traitor, the traitor she was, the traitor she was painted to be, the traitor she became. I’m sorry, she thought, eyes closed against the floor. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

Charlotte scoffed softly in disgust. “I once thought you a hero, Arielle. I know you think of yourself the same. Otherwise, why else would you have made a new facade for yourself. I mean, ‘Haeli Alessa’? What kind of a dumb name is that? And calling your terrorist group ‘The Roses’?” she laughed. “Even with all your efforts to save those cursed magic users and topple our thrones under a pseudonym, here you lay now, groveling at the feet of the royals you claim to despise.”

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

“Look up.”

Slowly, Arielle raised her head from the ground, her arms moving under her. Painted on Charlotte’s face was a look of disgust, hurt, anger — no, rage. “You deserve no mercy for the terror you have caused me and my people,” she hissed. “You disgust me.”

Arielle stared blankly, watching her sister turn away. “Take her back to the dungeons. I don’t want to see her face again.” The two royal guards helped Arielle up from the floor as Charlotte climbed the steps to the throne and faced the people. “Let us celebrate this day, for today is the day The Roses have fallen, and the day our exiled princess returns to us as a traitor, soon to be executed for her crimes against our beloved country of Adelphie!”

The room echoed with cheers as the royal guards escorted Arielle out, Lucien following behind up until the three of them exited the ballroom. “You know where she belongs,” he said before shutting the doors behind them.

The two guards walked along, almost dragging Arielle as she barely shuffled at the same pace. She was silent and numb, eyes glazed over as if lost in space. They wandered the halls together, finding the stairwell to the dungeons and going down an endless flight of stairs until they came to barely lit hall of stones, cell doors lining either side of them.

Arielle stumbled along the cobblestones until the reached the far end of the hall where only one dark cell was left. There, the guards hesitated, looking at one another. One of them — Ally — spoke with gentle concern. “Ari?”

She hates me.

The single thought was enough to shatter her from her stupor, and she fell to the ground, sobbing silently. Ally knelt beside her, wrapping her in his arms, while Nyx looked on. “This has gone too far, Nyx,” Ally said, looking up at them from the floor. He held onto Arielle, her body racked with silent sobs. “You and I both know that wasn’t the truth. We have to do something.”

Nyx looked at the exiled princess, a softness in their eyes. “In due time, Ally.” Their voice was low, quiet and careful. “In due time.”

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I really, really, really like Nuru she’s such a nerd

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Nothing to add, it’s all true o7

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Redraw of a 2021 comic based on some classic mulan dialogue— varigo vers.

(Also Rapunzel’s lineless style crept up on me so apologies if it’s messy)

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Yong appreciation post! 🧨

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A ton of VAT7K doodles, plus close ups under the cut!

A cookie to whoever knows the song Varian’s singing (and an apology)

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Varian and the Seven Kingdoms Consolidation of Info

Requested by anon

This is going to be a consolidation of all the official Vat7K stuff I have on my blog, including copy/pasting of posts Kay Ritter and Anna Lencioni have posted, and to a lesser extent, things I’ve posted with insider knowledge I had before Kay ever released their notes. Alexa Bosy was also involved in the project.*

*Please note that all these asks were sent when Kay was still going by Kait and was still using she/her pronouns. I have edited to reflect their preferred name and pronouns when referencing them, but did not edit the content of the original asks.

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