#once again asking if i want anything

[72graves]

I've been wracking my brain trying to find out who exactly Detective Noel might be and I think I have a vague hand wavy idea.

I know people want it to be Parker, Kayne, or even the KIY but I think Arthur would have recognized Parker's voice even if John struggled to recognize him, Kayne was pointed out to have never known about the lighter, and the King seems like a long shot, but not altogether impossible. However!

Way back in season 1 we learned that the book that had once held John was actually addressed to Roland Cummings, a retired private investigator who owned 13 Mosby Avenue (Arthur and Parker's office) and as of now is MIA after the police found the body of his wife in the freezer and the neighbors suspected he fled to Canada (Part Two: The Missing Girl). He's also the father of Amanda Cummings, one of the missing girls who was later killed by the King (because of Arthur, whoops). Now, his office was leased out to Elijah Strong and his partner, Teddy Caine before being taken over by Arthur and Parker. Elijah had committed suicide in prison and we later find out that the Butcher was the one who actually killed him. As of right now we have no definitive answer as to what became of Teddy Caine.

Arthur's engraved lighter came from the desk of their office.

My reach is that Detective Noel is either Roland Cummings or (less so) Teddy Cain. I'm leaning more towards Cummings simply because he had seemed the most knowledgeable about The Horrors™️ and was in fact sort of the catalyst to the entire series being the original receiver for John's book. And it's also possible he and Arthur never really met. It would also make sense as to why he's working under a different name because he would still be under suspicion after what happened with his family near Arkham. Teddy Caine I'm less sure about because all we know is that he worked at the office for a time and had a run-in with the Butcher.

Detective Noel could also literally be none of these people or someone else entirely and I'm just thinking too hard. But ooh the possibilities! They make me [stick figure gore]

[00fairylights00]

I Guess You Just Don’t Love Me Anymore

GIF from @glowing-starlight on Tumblr

I was so taken by @ash-arts-but-sinful's post which mentions P being jealous of the cat and @oldworldghost’s post which contains the idea of him becoming more mischievous and sassy as he becomes human that I just had to write a little something, I hope it’s alright that I drew on your thoughts for some inspiration!

As a disclaimer, I haven’t finished my first play-through yet so this is more of a character study based off of what I’ve experienced in-game and what I’ve been seeing on Tumblr instead of delving heavily into the world-building and established story that exists within the game. So hopefully no spoilers and it’s very likely that this won’t at all line up with the in-game timeline.

Big thanks to @cupidsredcollar beloved for proofreading <3 

For as long you had known Pinocchio you had never known him to be a jealous individual, in fact, when you’d first met that bleak, overcast morning in Hotel Krat you had been almost unsettled by his uncanny nature. 

His features were perfectly human, aside from the metal prosthetic he’d been fitted with. He had freckles and soft hair, a face that looked fashioned from a real person instead of the smiling caricatures Krat’s puppets were usually fitted with. 

But despite his boyish features, his face barely moved, he nodded along to Sophia as she gave him the task of locating his father, Mr. Geppetto, and tilted his head in question as Lady Antonia explained the concept of lying but his brows didn’t so much as pinch, his lips didn’t quirk and his eyes looked straight through you as you had wished him safety on his travels.

So watching in real time as he came into his own was something you cherished greatly, you continued to watch him grow and change, become something new. Pinocchio chose to spend a lot of his down time with you, he said he found you interesting, that you had a way of explaining humanity that made sense to him and over the last couple of weeks something had started to shift in him.

No, Pinocchio had never been a jealous individual, for as long as you’d known him.

Until today.

Your morning had started normally, woken up by the cool feeling of P’s lips against your forehead, human hand smoothing back your hair. He mumbled something about needing to go out, you tried to convince him to come back to bed, he tried to convince you to get up (he always wins).

P drags you down to the kitchen, you eat and he watches, something that was initially a little awkward but you’ve come to really look forward to, then you farewell each other at the rear entrance of the hotel. 

He holds you close to his chest, resting his lips to your hairline and making you promise to look after yourself and your companions while he’s away, you make him promise to be careful though you know he’s not always able to, often catching glimpses of Sophia muttering blessings and incantations under her breath in the foyer.

“It’s just Ergo hunting today, I’ll be more than careful.” He whispers, human arm winding around your shoulder. You breathe him in, hands to his chest feeling the odd sensation of his heart, not quite a tick but not quite a beat. 

You lean up to kiss against the slant of his jaw, his mechanical pulse jumping in response. He looks down at you, you catch the fondness in his blue eyes without mistake, he captures your lips in his, holding on for a second longer than he knows is necessary (it’s not like you mind though).

Lounging against the doorway, watching him walk towards the entrance of Elysion Boulevard, he turns and gives a last longing look over his shoulder before stepping through the wrought iron gates and disappearing from view.

You sigh, making your way back inside to start on your usual round of chores, helping where you could to take the load off of Polendina who needed more time to focus on Lady Antonia and her illness. You had just returned to the puppet butler for more tasks when you noticed movement on the top of the shelf behind the front desk. 

Sitting tall and proud was Hotel Krat’s resident sweetheart, Spring, tail swishing steadily as she kept watch of the foyer from her perch. The white and orange cat jumped down to the desk as she noticed you, laying down across the dark wood and turning over in gesture for belly rubs; which you gave happily. 

“She’s been very noisy today,” Polendina explained, stroking the cat, “I wonder what she’s trying to tell us?”

“Probably trying to manipulate us into giving her more treats, isn’t that right?” You accused lightly, you were sure that if he could, Polendina would be smiling. 

“There is another load of laundry that needs folding, could I have a hand?” He asked politely.

“Of course Polendina.”

And it seemed you had found yourself a shadow, Spring making an unreasonable amount of noise as she followed you and Polendina around the hotel. She wound between your legs, chirruped in response to your voices and bumped her head against whatever part of your bodies were within her reach. 

It was no surprise that Spring was loved by the inhabitants of the hotel, and it was very apparent that she loved them back, well everyone except for P. Not for lack of trying of course, he followed your advice of trying to build trust between him and the animal but she wouldn’t so much as let P touch her, hissing her disapproval for all to hear.

You’d often watch as P would recoil from Spring, the feline swiping and spitting at the puppet. You couldn’t tell from his expressions if the cat’s dislike for him bummed him out but sometimes as he lay next to you in bed he would lament quietly that Spring hated him, which would award him a sound of humoured pity and a kiss for the cheek.

It wasn’t clear what it was about P that set Spring off so aggressively. In all the time you had spent at Hotel Krat she’d never behaved in such an unfriendly way, even complete strangers who would seek refuge for short periods of time were welcome to interact with Spring freely. 

She would bask in the attention. You hoped that she would eventually come around to the puppet, given it looked like he would be around for the long haul and you just knew the two would be the best of friends if she would stop being so nasty.

But P was patient, far more patient than you were and it showed as you folded and unfolded the same piece of linen for the third time without realising, Polendina placed a gloved hand over your own, silently relieving you of duty.

“Apologies, my mind seems to be elsewhere Polendina.”

“You worry for the boy, it’s only natural that your mind wanders.” You sometimes forget how long Polendina has been around, having been a close companion of Lady Antonia’s for decades. You had a feeling he knew more about human emotions than he let on, somehow he always knew what to say when it came to your thoughts surrounding Geppetto’s Puppet. 

“I just can’t help it, and with him figuring out who he is, I fear he’ll get himself hurt by being too kind.” You wring your hands in your lap, focusing hard on the lines in your skin as you try to keep yourself from thinking of anything too awful.

“He has met humans who have given him trouble before and he has a good head on his shoulders. I would wager that you have nothing to worry about, but I understand that may not put your mind at ease.” 

“It doesn’t but thank you.” Your hand went to Polendina’s shoulder with a smile. “I think I’m going to find something else to do, try and get my mind off of things.”

Polendina nodded once, going back to folding the linens, “I’ll send the boy your way when he returns.”

You smiled in earnest, appreciative of Polendina’s knowing kindness. 

Spring, who had been lounging between you and Polendina, got up, stretching herself out and scampering over to your side. She meowed frantically to grasp your attention. 

Her interruptions continued as you made your way around the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly dirty given how little it was being used now, however, the repetitive action of wiping down the countertops and sweeping the floor were just the distraction you were looking for. 

Your ears perked up at the heavy steps of boots on marble floors, the jingle of P’s belt was something you could identify in your sleep. He stood tall in the doorway, all sweet smiles and fidgeting hands. Happy to see you, always happy to see you.

He was shockingly clean as he approached, resting his forehead to yours as his hands found their place on your waist, all the scolding about tracking oil and muck through the hotel was finally paying off.

You ran your hands over the intricate designs embossed onto the lapel of his coat, smoothing the fabric down before hooking your hands behind his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.” You cooed, brushing your nose against his. 

He liked the small intimacies you shared, bunny kisses you’d come to find were a favourite of his.

“You can go and relax if you want, I’m just cleaning.” You offered, but he shook his head. 

Spring had also gotten bored of waiting on you, brushing up against your legs. So there you stood, sandwiched between your two favourite beings. 

And two shadows wouldn’t be so bad if they would stop getting under foot, you laughed as Spring and P fought for your attention while you made your way around the kitchen.

P hovered close, slinging his arm around your waist as you tried to pass him. You stopped short as he pressed his face into your neck, leaning back against his chest and resting your hands over his wrist. You could feel him smile against your skin, a careful, small smile that only he could manage.

At that moment Spring took it upon herself to jump up onto the counter in front of you, hissing and swiping at P, he scowled and pulled you closer.

“Beast,” he scowled, you gaped at P, smacking the back of your hand at his chest.

“Don’t be horrible, she’s just protecting her territory,” you chided, 

“I haven’t done anything to her, yet she spits at me.” He complained, you thought your ears might be playing tricks on you at the distinct sound of a whine in his tone.

“You love her.” You reminded smugly, a truth he was unable to escape.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he mumbled, you pushed against his hold, trying to signal your want to move and he hesitantly loosened his grip. Hand ghosting over your waist as he watched you go, you threw a smile over your shoulder which he returned in kind.

You gave Spring a kiss on the head, letting her nuzzle her face against yours before scooping her up and putting her down on the floor where she went back to curling around your legs.

“Ah, so the cat gets a kiss but I don’t?” P asked. You snorted, flinging the rag you’d been using to polish the countertops over your shoulder.

You lent your hip against the counter and crossed your arms over your chest, “you never asked for a kiss, how was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted?”

“I feel like it was obvious.” He placed both of his hands on the counter, stretching his arms out straight as he pushed against the granite. 

You rolled your eyes in jest, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping onto your face, playfully exasperated you closed the short distance between the two of you. Lifting up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he was quick to move his head once you’d pulled back. Hands to your waist and pulling you against him, sealing his lips to yours so quickly it pulled a sound of shock from your throat.

“What’s up with you today, you’ve been awfully touchy.” You teased, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly. 

“I missed you too, always miss you when you’re gone.” You placed a hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently under his eye.

He pulled the rag from your shoulder and threw it behind you unceremoniously, taking your hand from his cheek to drag you out of the kitchen, a laugh bubbled out of your throat that P was happy to mischievously return.

He led you to the library, seating you at the piano and turning away to rifle through the sheet music stacked in a crate on the floor. He’d been getting better day by day. 

His body wasn’t exactly built to do delicate actions but that never seemed to stop him, in fact, he was inexplicably drawn to all the soft parts of being human even if initially he was afraid to get it wrong. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt anyone close to him and for that reason he was acutely aware of the raw strength he possessed.

Though his conscious effort to be gentle made all the difference.

Spring decided she’d had enough of being ignored, jumping up onto the piano bench and brushing up against you, pressing close and then curling down next to you. P turned around, the particular book of sheet music he was searching for held up in his hand, his expression dropped almost comically as he noticed Spring’s position next to you, taking up what was going to be his spot.

“Move her,” he says simply, you throw your head back with a hearty laugh but P’s serious expression doesn’t change.

“No,” you start with a laugh, “Spring got here first, you’ll have to pull up a chair.”

P continued to stand his ground, you wondered if he hoped his very presence would annoy Spring enough that she’d disappear of her own accord, but the cat only opened one eye. She regarded P from her curled up position before nestling her chin back down into her tail. 

It was like Spring knew she was in his spot and was smugly showing off to him, purring loudly.

“P, I’m not moving the cat. Just come and sit on the other side of me.” You insisted, watching as his unappreciated love for the animal won out and he stalked off to get a chair. You chuckled under your breath and passed your fingers through Spring’s soft fur.

“You are so mean to him, you know? He’s quite fond of you and I think you two would be very good friends if you gave him the chance.” You whispered to the cat who ignored you, continuing to purr unabashedly.

Unbeknownst to you, P watched your interaction with the feline from the doorway, his chest feeling warm in a way he wasn’t quite used to yet. Touched by your words that you thought were falling on deaf ears.

He gave in to your fondness for the cat, pulling his chair up next to you, fingers gently flitting across the keys as you hummed softly, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He decided he didn’t mind this so much.

Late in the evening, however, he decided he did mind. 

You were curled up in your bed a book in hand and Spring dozing lazily in your lap, he entered the room and his shoulders physically dropped.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, thumb placed between the pages of your book as a makeshift bookmark. 

“Nothing,” he mumbled, sitting down unceremoniously on the edge of your bed to take off his shoes.

You placed the now forgotten book on your bedside cabinet, the act of sitting up a little difficult with the cat in your lap. You reached for his shoulder but he shrugged off your hand, trying to hide the action by stripping off his coat.

He stood and draped the coat over the back of your desk chair and moved to unbutton his waistcoat, all while staring down Spring with a scowl.

It clicked.

“Are you jealous of the cat?” You wanted deeply to believe that your Pinocchio was not jealous of a cat, but you couldn’t come up with a more sound explanation.

“I don’t know what that word means.” He lied, avoiding your gaze entirely, unbuckling his belt and dumping it on the desk, Gemini didn’t say anything so you assumed he mustn’t be awake.

“Yes you do,” you rolled your eyes, “I remember very clearly the conversation we had about it.” 

He didn’t respond, turning his back to you and focusing his attention on rifling through the dresser drawer full of his clothes. The sleep clothes he was looking for were folded at the end of the bed.

“It’s okay that you’re jealous of-”

“I am not jealous.” Quick, concise and with no room for argument, he spun back on you. His snapping didn’t phase you.

“Uh huh,” you teased with a smirk, turning all your attention back to Spring who’d been ignoring your exchange.

Perhaps what you were doing was a little mean, given that before you hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose, but it was too fun an opportunity to pass up. P let out a disgruntled huff, shuffling around in your peripheral.

“I guess you just don’t love me anymore.” He offered with his arms crossed over his chest, your jaw dropped and a shocked laugh fell out of your open mouth.

“You take that back, immediately!” You snapped playfully, sitting up fully and annoying the cat enough for her to get up and move.

“Make me.” The challenge he’d levied would mean conceding to his childish behaviour but after all he’d been through, you thought it only fair. 

You pulled the sheets back and stood from the bed, crossing the room to him. He tried to act as though he was uninterested, tried to pretend that your hands on his chest didn’t affect him, tried to ignore the speed of his heart as it hammered under your palm.

Your hands travelled the beaten path they always did, from his chest to his collarbone, then hooking behind his neck. Trying to pull him down was useless, like trying to topple a brick wall with bare hands, but you caught him staring out of the corner of his eye.

“Look at me.” Your whisper was a command, and he had always been faithful to a fault. “I love you.”

He tried to hide the oncoming smile, dropping his chin to his chest, but you were quick to guide his gaze back to yours. There was no way you’d be missing that careful grin. His eyes were soft and gentle when they met your own, there was hesitance in them that you didn’t want to see, so you kissed him.

He melted against you, arms winding around your back and pulling you against his chest, you hummed and he couldn’t stop the full blown grin from forming on his lips; breaking away to look at you like a giddy school boy.

“Are you going to take it back?” You asked, brushing your nose against his in a bunny kiss. 

“Will I still get to kiss you if I do?” He joked, you rolled your eyes albeit in good nature, hands cradling his cheeks as he continued to smile.

“I think that can be arranged,” you mused, leaning in to kiss him again, the two of you falling into familiar rhythm with one another.

Spring slinked out of the partially open door, tail held high, she had seen more than enough.

[moeblob]

You know, when I kept getting asked "so you didn't ever have severe pains before now?" in the hospital and I kept replying "I have a high pain tolerance" I meant it. However, there is only so much pain my tiny 4'9" body can hold... (aka I am sweating and in agony bc I'm getting told to use LESS severe pain meds so I don't rely on them too much and it is AWFUL)

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[clown-owo]

questions...

[groenendaelfic]

Hi, I just wanted to make sure if you're okay? You used to post fics so regularly and now you're so quiet. I hope you're doing fine and are just busy with real life stuff?!

Hi, and thank you for checking in as well as your kind words. Same to the two lovely anons who sent me love. Thank you.

A very Happy Lucia to you and everyone who celebrates, or who could do with a bit more light in their life. (physical or metaphorical)

I'm sorry for being so quiet recently. I assure you I'll be back and that all my wips and outlines will be finished. (yes even Ghost!Erik, although I'm not making any promises as to when)

I'm as enthusiastic about YR and Wilmon as I was a year ago and I doubt that's going to change anytime soon. It's just that the holiday season has hit me harder than I hoped it would, and so my writing time has been mostly taken up by blankly staring at the screen and then being surprised when the alarm goes off an hour or two later.

It's the first time in eight years that I'm celebrating without my soulmate, and missing them and our two angels is especially hard right now.

I have a very active support network though and I know things will get better. Right now I'm just ... super lonely while at the same time being surrounded by too many people who mean a bit too well.

On a happier note I'm over 15k into the final chapter of Faroe Gone and still in Tórshavn, with only about 1k being stuff from the outline, so it's going to be a very, very long final chapter.

Also the next chapter of ALaWHEO has theoretically reached posting length about a month ago, but I really want them to actually get inside the palace and not just have a 4k car ride where nothing happens. So uh ... yeah.

Also, also I've been valiantly resisting the urge to write Kings Wilmon's first state visit to movie-rwrb's London snippets. It would be a good distraction, but also I'm not sure it would be any other levels of good. I haven't even finished reading the book.

Also, also, also my muse insists it'd have to be Phillip and James III's pov, and I suspect that'd top even The Getaway's level of self-indulgence, if that's even possible.

Anyway. Happy Lucia. I promise I'll be back, although no promise as to when. All the best! 💜🧡

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[waywardstation]

with the anon talking about angry ingo, i assume when ingo caught wind akari was banished. i can see all hell broke loose specially ingo charging at clan galaxy leader

In regards to this ask

I’ve thought on this scenario and I can see what you’re saying anon! A lot of people go this route, but I like to think that perhaps in that situation he’d be more concerned over Akari’s safety out in the wilderness than going and attacking Kamado — at least if he did get involved at all.

Personally the only thing I can see causing him to get like this is if he got the chance to personally confront the thing that pulled him to Hisui.

So many theories — Arceus themselves, Giratina at Volo’s command to open rifts, an Ultra Beast through an Ultra Wormhole — I think each one would bring some level of anger to it, either at the situation or the entity that did it.

He was pulled right out of his life and lost everything dear to him against his will (I’m assuming), and was just left adrift in a murky haze. And then to possibly find out whatever did it doesn’t even care or know they stripped him of everything? Maybe he’d be more angry at the situation he’s found himself in rather than the entity that caused it at that point. I don’t know, I’d have to think about it more. ^^

[connectedspace]

as fun as that was, and i would never stop doing fun gift art for the world

its disheartening, and hurts, to try and get engagement from people. to struggle to get asks for weeks. and i know im not the most active blogger, but as soon as i offer free art, i get swamped with asks. where is that beforehand? i dont know what to say entirely, it just makes me depressed. the fact that people are so quick to jump on my ask memes but wont talk to me or this blog otherwise. i dont know what to do

I don’t want to tell anyone that it’s bad to ask for it, or that it’s bad to receive it. Because that’s not what I’m trying to say. But it just sucks to get low engagement and people only interact with you to receive art, often without giving you anything in some way. It’s fine if it happens sometimes, but it’s exhausting when it’s repeated. It makes you feel like people only want you for free gifts that you put time and effort into but won’t give you the same effort

I guess I’d just like to encourage everyone to send regular asks to each other, even if it’s on anon. That’s all I’d want to see not even just for myself but mostly for others

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[cozylittleartblog]

Do you have any tips on drawing the Swatchlings?

frankly i am happy that i have gotten good enough at drawing these bird boys (gender neutral) that someone wants my opinions. anyway

i see a lot of fun ways to draw swatchlings tbh and i don't really know what you want tips on Specifically so i will just make notes on a few of the main things i think about when i draw them, most importantly: just make them bitches broad and fluffy, man. they're all canonically Ripped, but an important thing to remember is that they are likely completely covered in feathers! that's going to smooth out those muscular details, so you wont be able to see them, just the broadness of them.

my style is all based in gesture and shapes, so i use a lot of blocks so they look nice 'n sturdy. it's okay if you don't nail the anatomy on the sketch, i am constantly nudging things around all the way into the coloring phase trying to get the shapes right. frankly i would probably bulk out even this Example Bird if i were drawing them all the way. i usually add more fluff or muscle or chub or whatever when i detail them but the absolute bare bones of them is dedicated to blockie

i give mine these sort of vestigial wings on their arms to make them look softer, and i think about how feathers move and stick out on real birds to help inform how they'll sit on these birds, too. and i carry the soft, pointed feather shapes into the fingers so they also look soft.

tip for drawing Soft: don't get caught up making too many individual strands or feathers, soft things tend to come together in big tufts. you want big gentle shapes, not a bunch of little ones. unless you want your bird to look wet or scared in which case you're doing a great job and you've probably just drawn spamton instead

their faces are really tricky so i think of them as these kinda... non-euclidean semi-hollow pentagonal cones. there's five "planes" with the top two dedicated to eyes and the bottom three dedicated to mouth placement. sometimes you can see the far eye even though, in real life, you would not be able to see that "plane" of their face. you don't always have to understand things sometimes they just look cool, especially when characters are cybernetic birds made out of Magical Darkness. there is no rule about when to draw one or two eyes. it's just whatever looks better.

biggest and bestest tip of all about drawing swatchlings! very important! write this one down in your most favorite gel pen and Really Big! give them either tails, or tail coats. i don't care that canon has neither, canon is wrong. you can switch it out, even - my birds have tail coats as part of their standard uniforms but they can wear their real tails out on special occasions.

lastly, if you want to stick closer to a canon interpretation, i would not try to make the birds too unique, when they're on the job anyway - they like being coordinated! tasque manager is very particular about keeping them coordinated as well. but if you just want to have fun then you can make your birds as fun and unique as you want :) even though i draw them all about the same i personally love love love seeing super funky swatchling designs, making them different colors and species and such.

course summary:

make them Large. make them Fluffy. use really broad, blocky shapes and draw big, thick tufts of feathers instead of trying to detail them too much.

their heads are silly magic nonsense. draw a triangle and get funky with it. no rules, only vibes. if it vibes it stays

they always need some kind of tail or tail equivalent and i don't care what Anybody else says

if you want to follow canon, draw all the birds except swatch just about the same. if you're just here for a good time, throw that out completely and have fun with it.

[smilesrobotlover]

When some random stranger dms me about a commission and I just know that they’re gonna be a nightmare or a scammer

[quickhacked]

my favorite parts of draft zero of the diner thus far

[clangenrising]

firstly, i love the idea of this blog, and the execution is absolutely lovely and well-thought out. the art is 👌💖 and full of personality as well!

secondly, i have an inquiry about names. have you ever changed any of your character's names, or do you stick to the generated ones?

have a wonderful day!

Aww, thank you so much!! Your praise is much appreciated ^w^

And I ALWAYS change the name (or at least most always). I'm so particular about following the rules of a universe when it comes to making ocs so i cant stand the idea of warriors with names like "Oliviatree", "Peanut Wigglebuttbreeze", or "Blinky Stubbinsstrike". And yes, those are all names I've seen the game generate haha

But like even ginger cats named Shadow- or non-tabbies named -stripe, that kind of thing makes it hard for me to take a character seriously and I don't want that, especially for a project like this.

That being said, most of the founders names are unchanged, including Russetfrond, Smokyrose, Sagetooth, and Songdust! I got pretty lucky and only had to tweak a few of them.

[coolnonsenseworld]

I've been working on a lot of new pieces and making them into merch, but before I start posting all of them you can go check out in the shops (linktr.ee/mezzy) Valentine's Bundle - merch that celebrates love (.... I mean klance, but I added Cuddlers as well, because I bet that if everyone had a Cuddler, world would be a better place).

There is a discount code fo 14% off of the Valentine's bundle - 7 codes for each shop (Bigcartel and Payhip) so use LO7E at the check out for a discount!

Happy Valentine's everyone thank you so much for sharing this with me and see you with the next post 💕💖💖