#knoppegarten

[impybutt]

To clear up any confusion, all the characters in Garden of Bones (Knoppegarten) are based on real people. It's just passed a year since Michel started recognising symptoms of epilepsy and DID while we were going through the wringer. The former has been tested and diagnosed; we're working on the latter. Mental healthcare is prohibitively expensive in Australia.

[smooth-brain-magpie]

My poor shitty little phone camera did its best, but anyway: Weaver is a Sphynx type fae, and by a wide margin the absolute scariest when they get angy.

Everyone is traumatised, and Weaver gets all the hypervigilance. Sleep deprived crankyfeathers.

[impybutt]

uuuhhh--- hold on (checks my luggage for Elon Musk)

[impybutt]

Blue Pen is his default journal colour simply because he fell so hard for his own wholesome masculinity that I decided he can be as mean as he wants in an emergency.

Introducing Soft Touch, human name: René.

I had to cap his busted horn with yellow gold, for the conductive properties, otherwise he's just WAY too sensitive to spirit activity.

We're sober as a nun right now, Michél (blorb name: Weaver) is just WAY too German to not be frothing with rage at all times. NEO NAZIS!? ON MY MOTHERLAND!? POINT ME AND FIRE, I THOUGHT WE SOLVED THIS IN THE 40S WITH HITLER'S LITERAL SUICIDE

Thankfully René is still Convict enough to remember that Australia is a British penal colony, and white guys need to mind our manners. Mum is brown enough to be Roma, try the other side of the Berlin wall.

Ugh. Sigh. Did you know that some white people change colour after birth? We could have passed for Mexican before the blue eyes and blond hair. It took a couple months.

Remind them that I get Locked In syndrome and my paralysis demon is a dead tuxedo cat, Dominic buried him with her bare hands after he was put down. Tail up for the beetles, and everything.

It was a Fae burial, but I think all feral cats are Fel :3 He gave Mishy a tear to mlem before it was time to go 💙

... Wait, I just remembered They have Husky energy and a Doberman shaped blorb. Y'all heard this over the phone once, Ahem:

TUXEDO CAAAAAAAAT!

Don't let your homunculus get lost in the back rooms! If you see Crooked Man, that's René without his mask on, he's horrifying to behold! Lord Beelzebub's Ghost speaks Fly because he's Golgothan!

Shout out to The Real Rohunt for teaching us how to argue Critical Race Theory.

I wasn't going to bother waiting for the Scots to stop killing each other over the privilege of being the best at killing each other. Germans are introverted. Dame Maggie Smith would know what's up.

ay yo waddup young Greenman 😎

SNOOP I'M-- oh, wait. That baby harness XD Mate I remember what YOU said about Trump. Donald Glover probably has you by the testicles, where do you think he learned Monkey Takes the Peach if not the East Indies?

aaaAAAAND SNATCH

[impybutt]

Bruh that describes the entire animation industry. The screen is still a box with guts in it, what else is a computer if not an electric cave?

[impybutt]

NINE (9) MINUTES OF SILENCE FOR GEORGE FLOYD OR SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND COUNT TO THREE HUNDRED (300) IN JAPANESE.

[impybutt]

aha whoops, there you are. I knew there was a Warfstache in here somewhere

[impybutt]

Left the man alone in the paddocks with some fresh air and TLC, he came back with a whole new individuality and Kicked Dog Face.

He's a lot more optimistic than he looks, turns out having a headmate to nurse agrees with his constitution.

[impybutt]

Puck was inspired from, formed in, and betrayed by love. He broke so irreparably that Servitor_Rex, his predecessor and ultimate successor, was forced out of a very old grave to manage the fallout. It was messy and violent; Puck became tyrannical towards the other fae; Rex didn't have the presence of mind to do anything other than retaliate.

Now that their reconciliation is properly underway, and Puck no longer bears the weight of the heartstone, he patrols the Garden as a vigilant ghost; the vengeance of the pain he suffered, which Rex now guards in his own chest; and serves as a shepherd/big brother/party clown for the lesser fae.

When Puck smells lamp gas, or hears crocodile tears, his bells start to jingle. Everyone hears the noise, particularly Rex.

[impybutt]

note to self, cheap visual journals are not great for brush inking. Paper bleeds like it's been gutted.

[impybutt]

Ja, does anyone even remember how stressful middle school is WITHOUT the daily threat of being shot to death by some Reactive with an AK-47?

Those are weapons of mass destruction, Civilians SHOULD NOT HAVE ACCESS TO THEM AT ALL.

American kids probably don't even HAVE a death sense any more.

watching gen z and millennials make fun of gen alpha has been torturous. "But they're actually stupid" 1. theyre middle schoolers 2. isn't that what older gens said about us? don't you remember being 11?

it truly is just "impulse reaction to cringe <- has not yet unlearned shame"

the cycle continues let me out of here

guys. guys I think we should kill cringe culture

[impybutt]

Enjoying that we're here now and we survived.

Anyway, Rex is a greedy guts and Bonesy has trouble keeping up. Like because they're a tulpa they don't have a refractory period (eyeroll emoji)

[impybutt]

apparently I sleep like a peasant, the yurt out on my front porch is just. So nice 🫧🤤

im just not convinced humans were ever meant to be this busy

[impybutt]

[impybutt]

some self-indulgent art of Rex having a Tragical Girl moment over Puck's flame, as it helps him guide the lightning he keeps conducting but can't control.

The labradorite heartstone used to be in Puck's chest; Rex, a prior incarnation of the heartstone, exploded out of a 28-year death and tore him to pieces when his delusions almost killed the whole garden.

There's been a lot of Rex meditating with Puck's ghost. Now that the heartstone has been returned to its first host, Puck can rest with the other ghosts and Rex can live in his place, including all the pain and regret that involves.

[impybutt]

Each of the boss Fae have a greater beast form they can take. Weaver's headstone is an obsidian, which absorb negative energy. Rather than purifying it at any point, they use that energy to sustain Worst Nightmare and protect the garden from lesser terrors.

This form uses it/its pronouns, and is how Weaver recovered from the paralyzing terror they felt during the collective death, when Rex's lightning split the tree. Fear is now a game to them, and death as a concept is something they roll around in like a chinchilla having a dustbath.