#wild and age were very hard to draw so

[linkbetweenlinksau]

The last bit of heroes! They have shorter character explanations idk why lol.

Do not tag as LU please

Here’s the first one

[thebirdsandthebats]

Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

New Horizons

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Deaf!Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You were born deaf in a family that can hear. They've adapted to make you feel like part of the family. Spencer met you and learned sign language for you. Now you get a chance to join their world. Will you take it?

Square Filled: deaf au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

The bacon in the pan on the stove slowly turns crispy brown the longer it sits in the grease. The food smells amazing as does most food. You have a very sensitive nose and acute vision. Spencer likes to quiz you on what he has in his lunch bag without opening it just to see if you can smell what’s in there.

You look to the right and see Spencer pace the length of the living room with his phone to his ear. His mouth moves but no noise comes out of it. The bacon cooks but no noise comes from the sizzling. The coffee machine blinks rapidly to let you know that it’s done brewing but no noise comes from it. Spencer’s face scrunches up in frustration as he becomes more animated on the phone. Man, there’s nothing you wouldn’t give to hear the sound of his voice.

You’ve never heard anything make noise a day in your life. You’re deaf and have been since birth. Your entire family is hearing so you’re not sure where you got your deafness from. Is it even hereditary? Is it just a malfunction? You’re not exactly sure why you’re deaf and none of your family is, but it’s been a wild ride, to say the least.

The natural thing to do as a human is to express your emotions through words, but you can’t do that. Because you’ve never been able to hear, you never got the chance to learn how to speak. You’re an adult and don’t know how to speak. It hurt you sometimes knowing Spencer got to do something you’d never be able to do.

To express how you’re feeling, you took up painting and drawing at a very young age. To experiment with different colors and brushes, to create something to express how you’re feeling felt good. It felt so good that you wanted to provide that to other people who had a hard time expressing through words.

When you got out of college, you started a business of being an art teacher for deaf and hard-of-hearing people. Hearing people can join your class, obviously, but the target audience is people with a hearing disability. It’s gotten more popular over the years, so you have your own studio right down the road from your apartment.

If you’ve learned one thing about being deaf is that you’re not going to let it hinder your life in any way. The same thing goes for your relationship with Spencer.

When you met him, he was passing by your studio and thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Truly shining in your element. He learned very quickly that you were deaf but that didn’t stop him from wanting to get to know you. He never had the desire to learn Sign Language until he met you. That night, he studied the language and practiced signing so he would be able to talk to you.

Naturally, he picked the skill up quickly.

He asked you on a date that very next day. It was impressive to know someone who didn’t know a single thing about Sign Language only to come to you the next day and know enough to have a conversation. He didn’t know everything so you helped him where you could; he was being so cute about it.

No one has ever gone through so much trouble just to talk to you. Most people would either write what they want to say or not bother talking to you at all. Not Spencer. He put in the effort. 

That’s how you knew he was the one.

He came by your studio every day until he convinced you that living together was the best thing. He lives pretty close to his job at the BAU but moved in with you which puts an extra thirty minutes on his commute every morning. He gave up living where he was just to be with you because it was easier for you to be close to your studio.

You fell for him and fell hard. Plus, he loves having all of your artwork in the apartment. It’s very colorful and expressive, and that’s how he knows how you feel. He’d never want to put a limit on what you can create, and you’d never want to leave his life dull and colorless.

Your disability has never come between you, but now you have a choice to make. 

Your parents called you yesterday over video chat to tell you they have the money to give you surgery for a cochlear implant… if you want it. You’d finally be able to hear. You’d finally be able to be just like everyone else. It’s not a decision you can make lightly because there is so much weight behind it.

The deaf community has done so much for your life; you love what it stands for. It’s a community that constantly proves itself worthy against a world that thinks so negatively about it. Some of your bestest friends are deaf, and they’re wonderful people. Just because someone can’t hear, doesn’t make them any less of a person.

Taking this surgery feels like a cop-out like you’re just looking for a way to escape the deaf community and take the easy way out. It’s not like that at all. You’d never want to be separated from a culture that is so diverse and so beautiful, but you’d have a shot at being able to hear. It’s something you’d always wanted for yourself even if you couldn’t admit it.

You’d finally be able to hear bacon pop and sizzle. You’d be able to hear your mom laugh at one of your dad’s corny jokes. You’d get to hear Spencer’s voice. How can you accept a surgery like this and not feel like you’re abandoning a culture that cared for you? You’re more than capable of living a happy and successful life without being able to hear but does that mean you should? That you want to?

Spencer gets off the phone and sees you staring into the pan of bacon in thought. He walks over to you and makes sure you can see him instead of sneaking up on you. He doesn’t know how many times he’s approached you without you knowing he was there. You snap out of your own thoughts and look at him.

What’s wrong? He signs.

I can’t stop thinking of what my parents said.

Are you having doubts? You shrug. It doesn't matter if you can hear or not. I fell in love with you and will support you in whatever you want to do.

Damn, you really got lucky to be with a man like Spencer. You take the bacon off the pan and plate it, but you don’t move to eat it.

I know. Thank you.

I have to go to work, but I will see you afterward.

He leans in and kisses you, making it last a few seconds longer than usual. When he pulls away, he smiles at your dazed look. He makes you feel things you never knew a man could make you feel. He mouths, “I love you” and you mouth it right back to him. He leaves the apartment soon after, and you rush over to the small balcony you have that overlooks the busy street below.

Spencer walks away from the apartment and to the nearest bus stop which is at the end of the street. The bus comes ten minutes later and takes him to work, but you don’t leave your spot on the balcony. People bust their asses to get to where they need to go unbeknownst that you’re watching them from above.

There are two mothers by the bus stop who have children with them who look to be crying. They dig through their bags for some food to ease their child’s discomfort. Across the street is a couple that looks to be arguing. You can tell by the angry look on the woman’s face and the desperate look on her partner’s face. Kids play basketball in the park next to the bus stop. People walk their dogs who bark at other dogs they see.

The bustling city below and you have an opportunity to hear all of it.

If you’re going to get the surgery, you want it for yourself and no one else. You don’t want to be doing this for anyone but yourself. You want to be able to hear and listen to movies instead of reading them. You want to be able to listen to music instead of feeling them. You want to be able to listen to Spencer when he talks instead of reading his hands.

So, you get it. You get the surgery.

When you wake up, your whole family is waiting for you in your hospital room. Your head is in major pain from where they cut into you to place the cochlear implant. There is a device that will stick to the side of your head like a magnet that will communicate to the implant in your head so that you can hear the world around you.

The doctor comes in with the device and explains to you that once he places it on, he’ll calibrate it and turn it on. Your entire family is silent as he does this because they don’t want to bombard you with noise after living a life of no noise. Your mom looks at the doctor who nods as soon as the device is turned on.

The first thing you hear is the ticking of the machine next to you. The next thing you hear is the fluorescent bulbs in the lights above buzzing. Everything is heightened after never having the sense. Your mother steps forward and grabs your hands with a smile on her face.

“Can you hear me?” she asks.

You don’t understand what she is saying but hearing her voice for the first time brings tears rolling down your cheeks. She lets go of your hands and signs at the same time she talks so you at least know what she’s saying.

“Can you hear me?” You nod eagerly. She then signs your name. “Your name is Y/N.”

This is so overwhelming for you. Your body has never felt this high before. Your family takes turns signing and speaking to you, and you never stop crying once. Your mom laughs and you look at her with all the love in the world. Her laugh is so beautiful.

“Do you want to see Spencer?” your mom asks and signs at the same time.

You nod eagerly and she steps into the hallway to bring him in. He’s kind of nervous. What if you don’t like his voice? What if you hate it? What if you only love him because he never talked? You can practically see the thoughts he’s having so you reach out for him. Your family shuffles out of the room to give you two some alone time while they talk to the doctor in the hallway. He takes your hand and rubs the back of it with his thumb.

Speak to me, you sign.

“Can you hear me?” he signs and asks. A new wave of tears comes rushing out. Fuck, his voice is so beautiful. “My name is Spencer.”

Your voice sounds like a sunset, you sign with a teary smile.

“I love you,” he signs and says.

Wow, so that’s what that sounds like.

I love you, you sign back.

You’re ready to start this next chapter of your life with Spencer by your side.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[a-little-lostmoon]

some LU headshots in my style for personal reference. subject to change bc drawing consistently is a bitch but overall i think i’m happy w them! (ignore the comic/writing idea in the upper right corner it may or may not be made into a full think idk yet—)

typed notes for each lu member + a little extra below cut

wild—

oval eyes

rounder oval ((ish)) face

amber earrings

healed scarring

androgynous

i tried to reference the boys’ canonical character models to individualize their features more. i love botw and totk sm but personally i’m not the hugest fan of the way the characters look for it? even so, i think the rounder sort of eye shape works really well for my wild

his colors specifically i drew to be a bit more sunset kissed/orangeish bc i was referencing a wild photo in which the time was sunset. thats abt it. but i think it’s really pretty on him so i’m probably just keeping that whenever i draw wild

warriors—

cheek bones/jawline

rounder ears

pointy eyes ((eyeliner that could stab a person))

cheek scar bc i felt like it

i stole away some of wars’ side fringes, forgive me i couldn’t decide whether i wanted them to cover up his jawline and chickened out. if anyone actually read the comic thing you’ll see smth abt the old man and wars talking abt how his hair parted to the other side of his face during the war. i made it to ‘vent my frustrations’ bc i drew his hair part referencing HW photos of link instead of LU wars and it’s now become my headcanon.

his hair color is vivid bc HW color pallet is pretty damn vivid and his eyes & earrings are a deeper blue to match his scarf. color coordination!

anw he’s a pretty boy so i made him pretty — that’s pretty much the rest i have to say abt that

time—

tired eyes

longest ears

(slight) rbf

both time & legend have half circle/oval eyes ((kind of. at least that’s what i tried to go for to give them a more worn/serious look))

i’m not the best with differentiating ages. i tried to make him look a bit more worn/oldest but i also wanted all of them to still carry some of that classic pretty boy link look. don’t have much else to say but he has the longest/angular ears bc fairy boy. let’s pretend four’s don’t look longer than his i drew him later and forgot

twilight—

<-takes more features from malon ((who i haven’t drawn yet so you don’t have any reference on that))

pretty boy face (wasn’t intentional but it is what it is)

twilight princess link is v pretty. twilights usually one of the more rugged (for lack of a better term) looking ones bc he’s among the taller ones/apart of the “adult” squad but i accidentally made him very pretty looking. oops. don’t know if that will remain consistent for him if i draw him more so we shall see

him and time share less features than i might’ve wanted? you can see a bit of time’s jaw in the way his face curves but overall they don’t share many features. again, he takes more after malon. but their hair textures are incredibly similar if that means anything

gave him jade studs bc they reminded him of midna and are practical enough that he can just keep them in the whole time (bc he will lose them or forget abt them if he takes them off)

sky—

rounder face

big eyes

lips

big ears

his hair color was a bitch to get right im not sorry i had to say it color is so hard to work with. in any case! skyward sword link has bigger looking eyes cus of the style and i just ran w that. his earrings are magenta to match sun’s dress but look red when the light catches them right (or wrong ig bc they look red in dim light too) just bc i realized his earrings were red to match his outfit/crimson.

sky and the next three (everyone sans wind) probly look the least off their character models

legend—

oval iris

full rbf

multiple piercings ((this is important for u to know))

longer narrow face & features

boy’s a strawberry blond bc i said so. and also legend purple eyes propaganda. i don’t know where exactly that originated but like i love it and im on board. he also has purple stud earrings he always keeps in — curious, isn’t it. he probably has more than i gave him but well, thats all i gave him. it gets the picture across. hc that legend realized he couldn’t get more fingers for his rings but he could get more piercings that could handle jewelry that did almost exactly the same thing. practicality!

also i couldn’t decide on legend’s hair length. its all hidden by that hat of his so i just… didn’t draw the back half portion of his hair. does that make my legend bald at the back of his head? you decide.

hyrule—

wide face narrow chin

freckles!!!

bigger earlobes

the earlobes is me projecting /hj but i tried to reference the og link’s face shape for him which idk if i like yet. he has freckles and more accent colors in his hair and eyes which is a subtle thing but a sorta maybe reference to his fairy magic. no piercings for him! i forgot them/didnt see them on og link and can’t really imagine when hyrule would ever get the time to pierce them so he and wind can do that together eventually to bond. legend will do it probly — he obviously has the experience and wild can’t be trusted (offered to pierce winds ears with a knife canonically)

wind—

big eyes

void eyes

big ears but rounder than skys

soft face

fluffy hair

wind’s 100 yard stare *does* things to the chain but none of them tell him that because he’d definitely use it to freak people out. i couldnt decide between going lighter sun bleached hair wind or bright blinding yellow toon link hair so i kind of meshed them together to create that. tried to make him the youngest looking

four—

symmetrical angles ((and then i drew a polygon quadrilateral bc thats the shape i used as a reference)) for cheeks and eyes

minish feather ((earring))

minish ears & nose

hime bangs

yk the picture of a minish that comes up when googled? thats what i used as a reference for his features. ears specifically, nose somewhat. four’s eyes are usually the greyish hazel color you get from mixing all of their colors together but i liked the split look for this piece more. his hair color is also wind’s but inverted so wind’s lights are four’s highlights and his darks make up the brunt of the base color as a slight reference to how it’s occasionally theorized/hc that wind is four’s descendant.

and the hime bangs were bc i wanted a little more “link side fringe” variation and i thought the sort of straight cut looked nice. hime bangs are not the right term tho bc he parts them to the side and doesn’t have that straight cut on his forehead but i’m too lazy to fight the correct term

— thank u for reading, go hydrate and eat if you have not <3

[auset66]

What your inner child wants you to know (Never heard before specific messages). 🎯👼

1. The Orange Girl 🍊

I see that you are a very practical and hardworker person. Past few days or weeks I feel is you are having some problems related to health or things just not going your way. I see the mental fog you cant pin point but things are just going wrong. A lot of confusion. You are also doing everything practical you can to deal with this but the thing is it is the matter of emotions and heart. 🧊🧹

Now the inner child of you wants to be free and have free flowing emotions. Now I feel you are that person who has been very emotionally detached from yourself as long as you can even remember living. Like you go and work hard and make things right physically. You might be that A class person "cold hearted" who is always about work work work. So why have you been like this? Because there is this fear of expressing yourself. Now I don't know if it because of seeing poverty or because of your parents being so strict not letting you be freely yourself. It could be many things, but the main energy the main source I see here is fear. That is now ingrained in your mind since the very young age. But you are exhausted now and your physical reality your health your body is giving out these signs. Calling you out to let your emotions flow free be the wild animal and live life freely in peace in happiness. What you can start by doing is maybe writing, drawing or even just try crying. It might be very very out of comfort zone but you can give it a Try. One thing you can do is write your feelings down everyday or everynight in the dairy or note app anywhere without any filters. Do what "feels" right. Very foreign to you rigth? And offcourse if you can I highly highly recommend consulting a therapist, not a psychiatrist, a psychologist. A good therapist can really understand all your problems and will help you out through this. That's their work afterall. What you need is therapy not medicines. Goodluck ✨️❤️

2. The blue walker. 🌧

Okay, so the first feeling I feel is happiness. Yeah I know you will be like... what happiness I literally hit rock bottom this time. Yes you did. I see a relationship or something very long term even could be your long term work it all breaking off. You lost something for sure or even someone. Whatever it was you made the decision already and are feeling a lot of uncertainty now about the future and everything. But (yes don't forget this reading) in few months from now you will see you feeling happy that type of happy you never even thought you could feel. You changing drastically growing naturally feeling natural and almost at peace. I feel whatever situation you left there was a lot a lot of masking up, a lot of chaos, people especially, lot of you doing and gaslighting yourself to do feel things you never wanted to. So this thing that ended your inner child is almost happy and thanking you actually that you finally let it go. All you have to do right now is to be patient and breathe. Rest. Let it flow. Whatever you doing right now you are doing right. You will see the change in yourself that you never even thought could happen. The change in your life the reality. Then look back at your life you had when you were in this "cage" I should say. And one more thing that I never say in my reading but it was strong so I see a person a good person entering in your life yes a romantic intrest. With this person you won't have to beg for attention or love or even have to pretend that you are Not clingy or that you are very cool person. You can just let be and this person will do everything without you even asking. You will be happy and feel free. Good luck. I honestly see a very bright and happy future and days. ✨️❤️🍃

3. The Green Rain 🍃

So I see you are a person who actually is really in tuned with their emotions. A good person a nurturing person. Having compliments about your motherly nature and being a caring person is not something new. So I see there is this calling in you which wants to make things right. Make the world a happy place. You love people and you are a humanitarian person. The thing is this energy is put on the people around you. Relationships, friendships and you know just these people. Most if not all these people are very immature and wants you to keep on giving and giving without expecting anything in return. Now the problem is you, that you think you feel that it is your responsibility to mother them, to nurture them to bring Them back to path. You feel like "give me all your pain let me alchemise it for you, because I know how it feels how to deal with it". You put yourself in others shoes, but the problem is these people are not giving the results back. They are just keep on becoming more dependant on you keep on taking all your life force out of you. Why you still think it is right even when you are so emotionally Intelligent? It is because of your childhood trauma of having irresponsible parents, huge mother issues. You feel if you won't do it everything will fall out. Your worth is only when you "protect" these people. What you can do? You should know that there is a line. The truth why you are still keep on doing it? And the truth is the trauma response not the empathy in this case.

The inner child in you wants to put this energy into something that will give the results back. What do i mean? Give a try to NGO work or becoming a clinical psychologist or world health or even teaching anything everything you can think of that will actually give the results back. Not the big manipulative corporations but the actual things that can help people not them keep on falling back to same cycle with you repetiting the same. You want to give to the world and you want results back. If you invest money in charity you want them to be invested in what charity told it will be invested it and not in their bank accounts becoming black money.

And yes the person whoever it is you are romantically involved in yes even if it is just a situationship. leave.You and me we both know how sneaky and immature this person and won't ever grow and especially never with you. The happy family dream... this person is far from that. Don't waste your wisdom and energy on these energy Sucker people in your life and put them into those who actually needs it. That's what your inner child wants. To make things equal and right. The change in world won't happen if you keep on mothering a litreal adult with mommy issues. Goodluck. 🍃❤️✨️

[siennaditbot]

Sethos x Reader: Sun & Moon

Hehe, look at me actually finishing it lol. Been ages since I've written x Reader stuff but I hope yall like it. Sethos needs more love <3

Female reader but I hope yall can still enjoy it lol :>

Sethos was a people person. He could talk to everyone and make them forget that they hadn't just met him, seamlessly integrating into any group he wished.

He had a good facial memory, so he could strike up a familiar conversation with most of the citizens.

But there was someone in Sumeru City that he had never properly caught for a chat. A humble cleaner girl, who seemed to hate him for some reason.

Whenever he tried to start a casual conversation with her, she focused on anything but him, her body language telling him she did not want to talk. Her replies were curt and he had to try hard to keep the conversation from dying.

He was pushy, yeah, but he knew not to push his luck. She was practically holding a weapon she could smack him with, after all. An everyman’s polearm - a broom.

So, he stopped approaching her. They just coexisted, him passing by her sweeping the streets sometimes, offering a polite wave as he jogged past her.

Then, on one rainy day, Sethos was caught enjoying the shower between his errands. He stood in the middle of the empty street, eyes closed and face lifted skyward as if to hug the rainfall.

But the rain suddenly stopped.

He opened his eyes in surprise and briefly met hers, before she handed her umbrella to him and dashed off. He was left there, staring at her disappearing form and the splatters of water as she ran.

He was confused, but shrugged the absurd encounter off with an amused smile.

“Heh, guess she doesn't hate me, after all. Interesting.”

Sethos loved being in the city. It was full of fascinating people, especially within the Akademiya. He loved learning about them, their stories, ideas and passions.

And now the curt sweeper girl had caught his interest.

He still politely greeted her when he passed by, and her responses were curt as ever, usually simply nodding and letting him pass. But now he read her behavior as shy and awkward instead of hateful.

His polite smile became a bit more genuine when he understood.

He kept noticing her in other places after that, too. She was often found sitting in random spots, holding a notebook she was very focused on, not paying attention to anyone who wondered what her deal was.

Sethos was one of them. He curiously eyed her every time he saw her, but she never lifted her face from her notebook.

One day she was sitting on a box behind Lambad’s Tavern, hand going wild as she worked on the notebook in her lap. Sethos noticed her, and decided to approach her for once.

She jumped when his voice cut through her concentration, having broken into her bubble.

“Soo. What’cha working on there?”

She immediately shut the notebook and looked away, clutching it to her chest.

“Heh, you were really into it. Sorry for spooking you.”

She didn't reply, no idea what to say, so she literally waved it off. He got the message, leaning against the railing next to her.

“You're a funny one, you know. I can never expect where you'll be sitting with that secret tome of yours. I’ve heard people call you a local cryptid because of it.”

That made her snort, and she immediately threw a hand up to cover her mouth.

His smile widened, proud of drawing a new reaction out of her.

“It's true, though. I've seen you on several branches of the Divine Tree, on a roof or two, and I swear I caught you behind a bush once. What's up with that?”

She scratched her cheek shyly, not expecting anyone to pay attention to her.

“...Inspiration”, she finally managed.

“Inspiration, eh? What's so inspiring about sitting behind a bush?”

She chuckled lightly in response.

“I just like switching spots. Different angles.”

"Riight, right, that makes sense. What do you need that inspiration for, then? Writing, drawing, homework?”

She turned the cover of the notebook towards him. It had ‘sketchbook’ written on it in fancy letters.

“Ohhh, an artist, I see. That's cool. You got the whole ‘vibe’ down too, now that I think about it.”

She drew the sketchbook back to herself again, shrugging with a small, amused hum.

“Quiet and mysterious. Who knows what's going on inside those covers”, he explained with a playful grin.

She was still curt, but her small smile gave him confirmation that she definitely didn't hate him.

“I’ll let you continue, then. Can't stop an artist when inspiration hits, after all.”

After seeing her nod and timidly wave at him, he stood back up with a satisfied smile. He waved in response and walked off, arms stretched behind his head as he went to continue on with his day.

From there on, he stopped to bother her for a moment or two whenever and wherever he caught her. She didn't seem willing to talk about art or her secret sketchbook, so he kept the conversation alive, talking about whatever. She was still curt and shy, but her snorts and amused huffs became a more common occurrence as days passed.

One day, after he was done telling one of his stories, she seemed particularly thoughtful.

“What's up? Remind you of something? Oh, oh, did I give you inspiration?” he grinned excitedly, pointing at her.

She took a moment to formulate her reply.

“..How do you always have something to talk about?”

He didn't expect that. She didn't seem annoyed, though..

“Heh, I’ve just seen and heard many interesting things. I like sharing mine, and learning more from the people I meet.”

“That simple?”

He shrugged casually.

“I’m a people person. I like talking and listening.”

Her face formed a strained smile as she looked away.

“My brain always goes blank when there's people around. It's like there's not a single thought in there.”

That seemed to confirm his assumption of her treatment of him before. She was just shy. Or socially anxious.

“Ah. More of an introvert, then?”

“...No, I want to be around people. I just… short circuit. Not very interesting company.”

“I think you're plenty interesting”, he stated matter-of-factly, “you've got me curious.”

That surprised her, and she turned to look in the general direction of his face, but still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re curious? About me?”

“Sure am. There's the sitting in random spots thing, your mystery book, how you're so focused you don't react to people gawking and talking about you right next to you…”

He counted with his fingers, amused but genuine.

“There's obviously a lot going on in there. I’m curious about what sorts of ideas you have. Art isn't exactly the biggest thing around the city, after all.”

She had to take a moment to take in his words.

“It's nothing special, really. Just stories, imaginary situations and encounters.”

“A bit of fantasy added to the ordinary, eh? That's fun. Care to give me an example?”

A bit nosy, maybe, but he was interested.

She looked away for a moment, not sure if she should or whether she even could produce an example for him. He seemed genuinely curious though, so she tried, and inspiration hit when she gazed down at the docks.

“Um, like, a long-awaited reunion happening down there. A tearful embrace…”

She suddenly felt very embarrassed.

“..That's dumb, isn't it? I can-”

“No, no, no, don't worry. I can see it. A bit of a romantic, aren't you?”

She blushed a little, but shrugged with a noncommittal chuckle.

“Comes with the whole art thing, I think.”

“Heh, makes sense. I like it.”

A moment of silence. It was comfortable to him, but she felt the need to fill it.

“U-um, thanks, for, you know, always talking to me.”

He wasn't expecting that, either, and hummed in question, grinning curiously.

“...I like talking to people. It's just..difficult”, she continued, wanting her thanks to reach him properly.

“Well, I’m always down for a chat. I'll keep stopping by to bother you, then?”

“You aren't bothering me. But yeah. I'd like that. Maybe I’ll learn some tips and tricks from the master of social skills”, she joked with a soft smile.

“Sounds like a plan.”

And so they continued their occasional chats. He often ended up stopping people to talk with them, anyway, but it was nice to have confirmation that he actually wasn't bothering her.

His company gradually helped her relax and learn to imitate some of his social techniques, like asking questions and using more open body language.

Eye contact was still an issue for her, though. And to Sethos’ surprise, it bugged him a little.

He was straightforward and social, so eye contact came naturally to him. Not everyone he talked with looked back into his, so he knew it wasn't easy for everyone. And, to be fair, his eyes were kind of intense, which was a blessing and a curse sometimes.

Yet, somehow, he couldn't shake the thought of wanting to meet her eyes. She was always looking somewhere else when they talked. Usually her sketchbook.

Still, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he did his best so she could relax when they chatted. He wouldn't push her, make her feel like she had to do it.

He had only met her eyes once, by accident that time she handed him her umbrella. They were bright and curious, almost striking in the muddiness of the downpour.

He remembered them clearly.

So, instead, he focused on learning more about her and her ideas and visions, and loved telling her his stories since they seemed to inspire her to some extent.

He learned to pick up on the change in her expression when she moved from listening to him to formulating an idea.

It was cute.

He thought positively about people, appreciated their qualities, both inside and out, but it wasn't often that he considered a person cute.

That thought lingered in his mind, too.

Her reactions made her even more cute to him. She blushed at times, yes, but she was playful in return, smacking him with her pencil or broom or rolling her eyes with that amused smile of hers. And she gladly showed him her work now.

He didn't think it affected how he interacted with her, but he unconsciously became a bit more friendly, almost flirty at times. He often grinned when they talked, initiated playful physical contact - like poking or gently kicking her - and couldn't help but give her tons of honest compliments, especially on her art.

One time after their brief chat when she was working, he was left with a single thought in his mind:

“Heh, shucks. I like her.”

It wasn't a world changing revelation, just made him connect the dots and realize how much his way of interacting with her had changed.

…And he was pretty sure she liked him too.

He kept interacting with her like usual, honestly just enjoying what they had. A comfortable friendship with banter, intrigue and plenty of laughter.

But it would be a lie to say that he wasn't also gauging more on what she could be feeling.

He picked his best stories, told them with a bit more flair, and gave her more casual compliments.

And, well, if their knees happened to touch when they were talking, or his playful pokes lingered on her skin a moment too long to be read as platonic, he didn't make a big deal out of it.

One day Sethos caught her sketching on a sturdy branch of the Divine Tree, easily accessible but not immediately visible to the townsfolk.

He chuckled and approached her, nimbly making his way to her in the tree.

“You're an enigma, you know that?” he grinned as he sat down next to her.

“It’s simple, really. The view is great from here. So many people to see, so much inspiration to gather.”

He looked down. The citizens were enjoying their evening activities; entering and exiting the tavern, boats docking, adventurers returning to get their rewards for their daily commissions.

It was interesting. He preferred to be mingling down there with them, but stepping back and watching the hustle and bustle from a different angle made him appreciate it in a new way.

He might not have lived in the city for long, but watching all those people do their thing made him realize how lucky he was to be around so many people nowadays. He grew up in the desert, with only the people of the temple as his company, after all.

He was gazing down with a gentle and slightly solemn expression, happy to be where he was now. He had friends, connections, and now… her, too.

He turned to look at her, about to share his appreciation for the view too, but to his surprise, he met her eyes. She had been watching him, curious about how quiet he went and what he was thinking of.

Her eyes held a hint of worry, but enough affection to make him stumble with his words. This time it was Sethos who broke eye contact, turning to look back down.

“Y-yeah. I get it. All those people have their own lives and stories to tell.”

“Exactly!” she chuckled and pointed the end of her pencil at him. “A gold mine of inspiration and ideas.”

They both loved getting ideas from people, huh? Their ways were different, sure, but maybe they were pretty similar, after all.

Stories, curiosity, ideas and inspiration. They worked well together.

That train of thought suddenly made him feel the need to communicate his feelings to her. Like his soul was calling out, wanting to connect with this girl whose company he had been enjoying more and more.

“You know, you remind me of the Moon sometimes”, he started, fittingly artistic for what he was about to do.

“Sounds fun and poetic. Care to elaborate?”

“You're always present, I just gotta know where to look. Mysterious, but mesmerizing.”

“Hehe, thank you.”

She smiled, but didn't seem to catch the full meaning of his words, so he continued.

“What I’m trying to say is, I like you. You draw my attention in a way no one else does.”

Well that definitely caught her attention.

Their eyes met again, and he nodded, not ashamed or embarrassed, but ever so slightly nervous.

“You do?”

She cleared her throat to answer him.

“...I always thought you were like the Sun. You're warm, fun, and easily draw people to you.”

She wasn't as calm as he was, but hoped her indirect poetic message reached him too.

“Does that mean what I think it does?” he couldn't help but ask, a hopeful grin on his face.

She moved her gaze down and nodded.

“I-I like you too. I feel like I can relax around you.”

Both sat in silence, soft and giddy grins on their faces, taking in the big words hanging in the air.

They turned to look back down at the citizens buzzing around the streets, the shy mood eventually becoming comfortable again, and moved on into imagining what kinds of adventures the people below them had experienced today.

Their fingers soon found each other and intertwined slightly as they sat together.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 36: Alexander's Desire

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June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity, human auction

Lex was bored.

He was surrounded by vampires all dolled up in their best attire, eager to see and be seen at the most high-end auction in the entire region, and he could hardly bring himself to care. All of the chatter was petty politics and gossip and who-is-wearing-what and who-is-buying-what, and it was hard to feign the slightest bit of interest.

Still, he did need a thrall. His long-time thrall Edmund had died of old age and blood loss after a lifetime of service. He'd been a good thrall, quiet and obedient, and his presence had eased some of Lex's loneliness. His loss was felt keenly. He knew that a good portion of the vampires here, even those who loved their human pets and servants, would scoff at the depths of Lex's grief over a mere thrall. Lex had always had too soft a heart, a fact that his sire never hesitated to remind him of.

Even so, the grief stung whenever he allowed himself to feel it -- whenever he had need to venture into the cold, spotless kitchen or start up the fire himself. He no longer had anyone to read particularly interesting passages of books to or play music for. There was no more wry chuckle when Lex made a mistake. No one to accompany him to the opera or ballet.

He'd hastily skipped the cattle pen of mind-wiped humans -- he found the entire idea distasteful, their vacant eyes unsettling -- in favor of perusing those designated as servants. Every one had bowed politely to him, addressed him as Mr. Alexander, and answered his questions briefly and with civility. Each one had been so enthralled as to lose most of whatever personality they might've had, and it might take years to draw any of it out of them, like it had with Edmund. The fashion of the time, unfortunately.

But his need for fresh blood couldn't be denied any longer, and even though these humans were unappealing in demeanor, his mouth still watered at the smell. At this rate, all he could do was pick out the most promising of the lot, take them home, and hope to coax some life out of them.

How tedious.

How very, very lonely.

There was, of course, one wild card, one wrench in the machine: his sire-sister, Lily, who had pulled him aside earlier that night to tell him about a secret project she had, a thrall that Lex would just love. That was mildly terrifying, coming from her -- Lex shuddered to think what she'd done to the poor human. Lily's skills in conditioning were second to none, but her ideas of what made a good thrall often ran counter to the grain.

He took his polite leave from the sixth vampire who'd stopped him in the hall, eager to curry favor with him and thereby curry favor with his sire, and headed into an ornately-decorated side room.

There, in the center of the room, stood a man with short blond hair, a stunning red velvet ball gown, and a cocky grin on his face. The thrall looked Lex up and down, and his grin only grew wider.

Lily was standing to his side, wearing some frilly pink confection of a dress. "This is the vampire I wanted you to meet, Fitz."

"Oh, this is Mr. Alexander?" said Fitz. "You didn't tell me he looked like this, sir. I might need to take back what I said about not wanting to serve a vampire."

"This is my special project, Lex," said Lily, bursting with pride. 

"The special-est, sir."

"Lex, meet Fitz."

"Charmed, sir, both literally and figuratively," said Fitz, bowing with a little flourish.

Lex stood there, stunned, not knowing quite how to react. "Are you... have you actually been... what I mean to say is, are you a thrall?"

"I've been hypnotized to hell and back by Miss Lily here, if that's what you mean, sir," he said. "But for better or worse, she's allowed me to retain my sparkling wit."

"Is that so?" Lex glanced over at Lily, who was looking incredibly smug. He had to hand it to her: this thrall at least wasn't boring. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such life in the eyes of a thrall.

"But enough about me, sir," said Fitz, getting into Lex's personal space. He smelled like lavender and rich, delicious blood, and that confident smile paired with sparkling blue-gray eyes was undeniably handsome. "Let's talk about you. Specifically, why you should buy me."

"Isn't that also about you?"

"You got me there, sir." Fitz laughed.

"Why would you even want me to buy you?" said Lex. "You seem to have your mind intact. You know that you'd be my servant, you'd lose your freedom, and I'd drink your blood."

"I don't know if you noticed, sir, but that's going to happen to every human here, or so I'm told. If I'm going to be a servant and delicious meal anyway, I might as well pick my poison, right? And you seem at least to be a very attractive poison."

Lex had seen thralls fawn and beg before, but he hadn't ever seen a thrall openly flirt. It was nakedly manipulative, of course, but the fact that the thrall was even capable of manipulation was intriguing.

"What are your interests, Fitz?" said Lex.

"The stage is my passion, I'm proficient in magic tricks, passable at fortunetelling, excellent at cards, and dabble in all sorts of arts and crafts and handiwork, sir."

"Do you play any instruments?"

"The guitar and the piano, sir, although I wouldn't expect concert-quality performances."

Lex couldn't help but smile. A thrall that played music, and had his mind together enough to indulge in hobbies! He'd longed for a thrall like this ever since he'd buried poor Edmund. Despite himself, he was already losing himself in a daydream of Fitz in his music room, playing a simple tune on his guitar, filling his bleak and lonely mansion with song.

He shook himself out of it. He couldn't give away his interest too obviously.

"Hmm, let's see," he said, hooking a finger under Fitz's chin and directing him to look him in the eye. His blood smelled like a delectable feast, and it was eroding Lex's self-control. He couldn't hold back his vampiric aura, and he saw Fitz's eyes go wide under his influence. Oh, that was gorgeous. "If I were to buy you, would you offer your blood to me?"

"Yes, yes, sir," he said, now looking more like a dazed thrall, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. Lex had found this fawning behavior uninteresting from the other, more heavily conditioned thralls -- but on Fitz, who just moments before had been bright and alert, it was intoxicating. "Being fed on by a vampire exactly like you is all I can think about lately. Drink, please."

Lex realized that he was far, far too blood-starved to rationally deal with this kind of temptation. He released Fitz from the spell, seconds away from losing himself and biting into merchandise that wasn't his. Yet, came the automatic thought, which he tried to dismiss.

Life returned to Fitz. "You deserve to drink from someone with blood as good as mine, sir."

"Oh?" Lex cocked an eyebrow. "How do you even know that your blood tastes good?"

"Well, a serious looking man in a very dapper suit told me that my blood was top shelf triple-A fancy grade, sir," said Fitz. "He seemed very authoritative, so I'm inclined to believe him utterly."

Lex laughed. It was probably the first time he'd laughed since Edmund died.

Oh, he was in trouble. This wasn't a thrall he would settle for because he needed fresh blood to live. He wanted this thrall. And he didn't like wanting anything -- it was a recipe for disappointment and disaster. And Lily was grinning like a loon. She knew.

"You're going to cost me a lot of money, aren't you?" he said in defeat.

"You're certainly not the first person to say that to me, sir."

Well, it wasn't like money was a serious obstacle to him. While this style of lucid thrall wouldn't appeal to some of the vampires here, the fact that Fitz had the highest graded blood Lex had seen at a local auction would drive his price sky-high regardless of his personality. And unfortunately, Lex already knew that he was willing to pay just about any price for this one. The thought of another vampire buying him, dragging him away by his handcuffs, sinking their fangs into what was rightfully his --

No, this was ridiculous. He had to keep his calm until the auction proper.

"I -- I really should -- I should take my leave and peruse the rest of the merchandise," said Lex as casually as he could muster, as though he hadn't already looked over most of the available thralls and found them lacking.

"Well, you're certainly not going to find anything better than me, but I understand the impulse," said Fitz. "I hope to see you again, sir."

Lex rushed out before he could get drawn back in.

He stalked down the hallway, past chattering vampires, hoping to find a relatively secluded place to clear his head, finally settling on a padded bench in a small windowless nook. His head was spinning with the desire to possess. He'd been starving for both fresh blood and companionship ever since Edmund's death, and still nothing else had sparked the flame of need so deep inside him as this one particular thrall. His mind was filled with fantasy of Fitz playing guitar and singing in the music room, of Lex stroking his fingers through his hair while they lounged by the fire, of how his sparkling eyes would look when Lex enthralled him to feed...

And the way Fitz had entreated him to feed! That was all Lily's deep conditioning, of course, but it seemed so real coming from him, as though his need for a vampire's fangs was genuine. He'd always known Lily was a genius at enthrallment, but Fitz had to be her finest work yet.

Lex tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps, not eager to make pleasantries with yet another respectable vampire, gushing over some empty-eyed, mumbling thrall and asking Lex to convey their respects to his hated sire. He was relieved to look up and find that the sensible black shoes in his line of vision belonged to his old friend Ruth, one of the sharpest minds in the city.

"Good evening, Lex," she said, sitting on the other end of the bench. "I do hope I'm not interrupting some important brooding."

"You're not interrupting anything in particular. The distraction will do me some good."

"So are you not finding anything you like? That's a bit surprising given how long you've gone without a thrall."

"On the contrary, I may have found something I like too much," he admitted, perhaps unwisely. Ruth was also close friends with Lily, and Lily was bound to be entirely too self-satisfied over her little project's success.

"Ah, is it Lily's little pet? He's quite interesting, isn't he? I think I may bid on him. He'd make an excellent clerk."

Lex couldn't keep the half-horrified, half-ferocious look off his face, his baser instincts howling at the idea of having his new toy taken away from him. Ruth cackled. "What's that face? Don't worry, I'm only teasing you. I won't stand in your way -- you're obviously in need of a proper thrall. Or an improper one, as the case may be."

The jealous knot in Lex's chest loosened. He needed to calm himself before the auction proper, lest he make a scene like an unschooled fledgeling. "I appreciate it," he said. 

Ruth put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's actually quite a relief to see you desire a thrall again. The strict repression your sire tries to enforce isn't good for you. After all, what's the point of dragging these old corpses around if we can't even enjoy ourselves?"

Enjoy himself?

When was the last time he'd truly enjoyed himself? Before Edmund's death, certainly, in the times when his manor had been less lonely, and he'd had quality blood to drink. Even then, it was difficult for him to grasp more than fleeting moments of contentment -- his master's pursuit of perfection over happiness had its roots deep in his mind. Truly, he'd been denying himself for so long, and in so many ways.

He wanted this. He needed this. He was going to own Fitz, and no vampire would stand in his way.

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I'm sure this will all turn out fine.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep

[ingravinoveritas]

You know what's kind of wild to me? Anna just confirmed they've been together for 6 years. People forget she's still 29, and isn't 30 yet. So they met when she was still 23. Not hugely different from 25, but notable I think. Idk where the narrative that she was 25 came from and how that stuck.

Hi there! So I am still catching up on Asks, and I wanted to make sure I addressed these (grouped together due to similar themes). For those who might not have seen, what is being referred to are two separate incidents that occurred in the days after Anna posted the t-shirt story on Instagram. On Tuesday, she posted this story lashing out at a Swedish publication for sharing a story originally from a UK publication (The Independent) about Michael's answer to the age gap question on The Assembly. The story was originally in Swedish, but the English translation is on the right:

Then on Wednesday, she did the same thing again, this time with another Swedish paper:

Since so much of this hinges on what Michael said in his response, I will post a short clip of that here, so we have the visual:

When AL's stories were first posted, I noticed a few comments on a post from @nightgoodomens from someone who speaks Swedish, and after reading the article, their observation was that all the magazines did was literally translate what Michael said, word for word (which we can then also further confirm by watching the video above).

So Michael's words were translated directly, and on top of that, Anna was not tagged by these papers, or contacted by reporters "for comment"--she seemingly sought out these news stories and shared them on her own social media. What's strange is that most of us would never have even seen them otherwise, and yet she chose to draw attention to them. And if these articles truly are meaningless clickbait, I'm confused as to why Anna would lash out so hard at them, especially if she feels as secure in her and Michael's relationship as she has wanted us to believe.

The other thing for me is that the one voice that is (again) noticeably absent here is Michael's. Nearly every post Michael has responded to/shared in relation to The Assembly was about a moment between him and one of the interviewers, Leo. Not only has the clip of Michael's answer to the age gap question gotten much less circulation/attention than the initial clip of the girl asking him the question, he has not said a single word about it since the show aired on April 5th.

He has especially not said anything about being misquoted (either in UK magazines/newspapers or international ones). And this becomes even more glaring when you realize that Michael immediately jumped on someone Twitter the day before AL shared that first story and corrected them for misquoting him (in regard to his comments about Welsh actors and Welsh roles). So it's very clear that if Michael thought he was being misquoted, there is no reason why he wouldn't speak up about it. And yet...complete silence.

I also find it interesting that for months, Michael was being attacked on social media, first in the aftermath of his comments about the situation in the Middle East, then more recently after recording a video saying hello to Good Omens fans in Russia. In both cases, he was defamed over and over again, accused of supporting war and genocide, and in general had his comments twisted and distorted beyond recognition--in other words, he was repeatedly misquoted (to put it mildly). Not once did Anna defend him against any of this. Not once was there an Insta story or anything speaking up in support of Michael. But as soon as it was something about her/their relationship, here she was posting these stories and letting us know exactly what her priorities are.

To your comments @lookforthelight97 about AL inadvertently saying the quiet parts out loud, that was also something that caught my attention. We could be here all day talking about the narrative and who is trying to change what, but for those who don't know, the narrative of her being 25 came from every media outlet stating that Michael and AL met in May of 2019...despite the fact that she gave birth to Lyra just four months later, in September.

It was this discrepancy that gave a lot of us the feeling that something was off even back in 2019 (and I would urge folks to check out @problematicwelshman, who covered a lot more of this at the time). In actuality, Michael and AL would have had to have met in late 2018 (when Anna was actually 24, as her birthday is in August) for her to then become pregnant and have the baby in September. All of this to say that if the official PR line for the last five years has been that they met in 2019, it makes you wonder why AL is suddenly publicly contradicting it, especially to show the lack of contentment she seems to feel about the relationship even after five (pardon me, six) years.

In any case, my incredulity is and continues to be at AL so readily showing her insecurities in this way, because all these two Insta stories have done is to draw more attention to her response than to the articles that are mentioned. Articles that again, none of us would have known about if she hadn't shared them. Yet as was said above, I don't think there is anything that anyone could post or write that casts doubt on Michael and AL's relationship the way her own social media posts do.

And to what you @vaguelyomens and @angelsadvocate96 said about Michael mentioning that his greatest fear is being alone, I feel like maybe Michael has such a fear of being alone because he already knows what it's like to feel alone. To know deep down that you are not remotely on the same page as the person you're in a relationship with. To know that they don't understand you and never will, but feeling responsible for them nonetheless, and not knowing how to reconcile those two things. It's difficult to imagine anything that would make someone feel more alone than that.

So, those are my thoughts on the Insta stories AL shared earlier this week. As I have said before, I know that I could be completely wrong, and I'm happy for folks to share their perspective, whether you agree or disagree. A heck of a lot to think about, for sure...

[barry-j-blupjeans]

People didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to. For a good while there, neither Edward nor Lydia had had to leave Wonderland for advertising. Someway or another, a poor hero or party would stumble through the Felicity Wilds and get drawn into Wonderland for their own various reasons— fame, riches, glory, all of the above. Word of mouth, of course, was to best way to advertise. But once you've killed someone, their icky flesh body started decaying much too fast. It was hard to leave the Felicity Wilds in a timely manner and still look enticing enough to lure people back in.

But this year had been rough. Maybe they scared away too many folks— Edward had to be honest: having the body he was possessing crumble to literal dust in front of the crowd he was advertising to hadn't been the best way to sell the glory of Wonderland. And letting people actually leave Wonderland was a no-go. They had learned that rather quickly.

So they were back to the basics. Magicking up their spectral forms into something appealing (though, with the lack of Suffering, it was getting quite hard to keep it together. Thus, why they could only go out as a pair.) and drawing unsuspecting forms deeper into the Wilds, straight into Wonderland. The old one-two, conversationally speaking.

And people just didn't wander aimlessly through the woods like they used to! So when Edward finally found their first catch of the day, it was important that he didn't slip right through their fingers.

"Oh," Lydia said, seeing the man not a second after Edward had. He could already hear the note of arrogance in her voice. "Oh, he'll do beautifully."

Indeed, the man looked like a perfect victi— ahem. Guest. He was human, older in age, so they'd have much more memories to draw on. He played the part of a worn-out traveler quite well. Mussed hair, and a worn, heavy satchel that jingled with every step he took. It was too quiet to be coins, but the white-knuckled grip he had on the strap of it told Edward it was something much more valuable than he could guess. His pants— though quite an unusual style, but who was Edward to say, having been dead for so long— were stained with mud. There was a bit of blood against one corner of his shirt, where the fabric had ripped.

But to be so steely with determination still? To walk through the Felicity Wilds alone and still be going strong? Edward did have to agree. Wonderland would suit this man perfectly.

"Long way from home, friend?" Edward asked. His form materialized next to a tree and he proceeded to lean against it. The man turned, startled. There was a crack in his glasses. Lydia appeared behind the tree, peeking out at the man as if she had been there the whole time.

"You, uh, you could say that," the man said.

"You're very brave, going through the Felicity Wilds alone," Lydia said. "Are you on your way to somewhere?"

"I'm, uh—" the man hesitated, looking between Lydia and Edward uncertainly. He seemed to be deciding on what to say. After a second, he continued with, "I'm looking for a place called Wonderland."

Bingo. Better than bingo, actually. Edward glanced at Lydia. They shared a grin.

"Wonderland, you say?" Lydia said, hand over her chest.

"You— I'm gonna hazard a guess and say you're familiar with it?" the man said.

"You could say," Edward said. "and what brings you to Wonderland, if I may ask?"

The grip the man had on his bag tightened. The object inside jostled, gently ringing again, and Edward felt inexplicably drawn to the sound. He could tell Lydia was, too, but they both refrained from showing. It was never a good look to be desperate or over-eager.

"I have… an artifact," the man said, slow and carefully choosing his words. "Of— of immeasurable magical power. And I was told that no one who goes into Wonderland ever, uhm, ever comes out. That's— This needs to be somewhere that no one can reach but— but they know they can try. It's— it's gotta be wanted. It's— it's—"

Searching through people's memories was a tad harder outside the walls of Wonderland, much less when they were this low on visitors. Still, Edward reached out with his magic, carefully slipping into the man's mind.

The world was ending. And then it wasn't. And then it was, again, and again, and again. It was a rush of information— much more than Edward had seen in the oldest elves, let alone a middle-aged human. Memories flew by fast enough that Edward couldn't catch any in his hands. A red haze was settled over the entirety of it all— Edward could see it clear as day.

The man was a lich.

This made things… much more interesting.

"Say no more," Lydia said, holding up a hand. Edward blinked himself back into the present, trying not to let his face show any surprise. "Lucky for you, we just so happen to know the way to Wonderland."

"For what price?" the man asked.

"What, you don't trust us?" Lydia said, pulling off a pout Edward had the displeasure of seeing her practice. At the man's face, they both laughed a little.

"I must say, I admire a man with a touch of hesitation," Edward said. "But we'll lead you with no extra charge. If this object is truly that important, then I say getting it to Wonderland is our highest priority, Barry."

"I never told you my name," the man said.

"You didn't have to, darling," Edward said. "Running a fortress in the middle of the Felicity Wilds lets you pick up a few things here and there."

"You—?"

"You'll have to excuse him," Lydia said, "My brother loves a dramatic reveal."

Edward could feel fire running through his veins, a pull in his chest leading them straight back to Wonderland. Lydia's cool and pleasant face broke in a way only he could see through— one victim would have been enough for a while. But the possibility of more was too savory to resist.

"We'll set off now," Lydia continued, "and we'll be there before dark."

"Now," Edward said as Lydia set their pace and the man stumbled after them. "Tell us more about this artifact."

[thenatallie]

This story is about Feyd and Margot go wild. Explicit smut, Nsfw, 18+. Sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy

Control

Feyd: What's in a box? Margot: Pain. Feyd: Face puzzled, mysterious smile on his pouty and perfectly shaped lips. He puts his hand in the box. Margot: Do not quit no matter what happens until i say so, it's very dangerous if you quit, my Lord...

Feyd could feel enormous pain while in his mind his hand burns to the bones. When pain became unbearable even to him, he started to laugh maniacally, showing shine of his black teeth, veins on his forhead enlarged. Margot: Enough. Now pull your hand out and look at it. He looks and his hand is perfectly normal, no pain and burns at all. "I assume I have passed your test", he said. Still kneeling, he wanted to get back where they were before, so he brings his lips even closer to hers. His eyes quickly shift from her lips to her eyes, gaze so full of pure desire. With a husky voice he asked: "So... You are here to honor my coming of age?" - "Yes, my Lord" she replied shyly, becoming aware that she suddendly blushed and tried to hide her eyes from him. Feyd: Than I want my birthday present. He breeds heavily, his warm breath on her lips. Margot's heart pounding harder and harder. She could expected this scenario, among some others. However, she could not forsee her reactions to that psychotic beast... There is a burning sensation in her lower stomach that aches for that kiss od his... "Just for my curiosity", she lies to herself. Feyd had never been with such a powerfull and misterious woman before, which added to his excitement. His lower member already ready for the battle, wanting to get out of the robes... Margot acts naively: "And what do you want for your birthday present? Tell me..." He replied with an ever lustful voice: "You... are special... You deserve a special treatment. And no more Bene Gesserit tricks from now on", he warned. Then he finally traces her lips with his own. They both breathing heavily into each other. He feels mesmerized, she pants and parts her lips. Satisfyed with her response, Feyd's kiss becomes feral. He bites her lower lip almost drawing blood. A sharp gasp leaves her mouth. She looks at him with desire, but being puzzled by his unpredictable behavior. His piercing gaze never left her eyes, while he deliberately slowly rises and starts to unbutton his robes. It lasts for eternity. She exhales in awe when finally sees his sculpture-like, poweful body... And his thick shaft! She was already wet for him, a natural response, she's trying to calm her conciousness, when he says: "Be still" and draws his knife, cutting and pulling down her beautiful dress and headscarf, leaving her half naked, so exposed to him. Feyd, licking his lips, pushes two fingers inside her aching core and she involuntarily arches her lower body part nearer to him, moaning loudly. In a matter of seconds, she finds herself pinned to the bed by Feyd's heavy body. He wildly kisses her again, wanting to savour her delicious taste and warmth, deepening the kiss as much as possible, harshly grabbing her hips, bare breasts, neck... Then slowly licks her hard nipples, going on to her whole sweaty and swollen breasts, up from cleavage to the neck. He stopped when his, now reddish lips, touched her already oversensitive ear, so she could feel uncontrolable desire of both of them. Harsh but soft voice that made her tremble: "Look at me when I fuck you." And there he is. With one swift motion, he is fully inside her. She gasps from pain at first, his huge, thick shaft stretching walls of her tight pussy. He looks fiercely, grins and licks his lips, eyes heavy and pupils so enlarged. She could feel the pain turns to a pleasure, very fast. Feyd Rautha's cock is inside her?? That disbilief strucks her like a lightning of pleasure, so she could feel her orgasm nearing. Feyd feels that... Her clenching around his cock, as he pumps harder in and out. Her legs are around him to try to dumpen that hard fucking. He feels he is about to cum together with her. He feels connected to her. Abruptly, he gives her a couple of hard deep thursts, his voice harsh of desire: "Margot, you are not using any witchery on me now?" - "I wouldn't dare, My Lord" - "Gooood... I like you so tamed...", his voice softens as he puts her one leg to his shoulder to intensify the feel even more.

The atmosphere in the room is absolutely magical. Seems like the time is slowed down. Sweet and thick air surrounds their wet bodies. The room echoes from loud lustful moans and sexiest growling ever, his lower body clashes onto her juicy buttocks... Her body movements are now completely out of control. She rubbs her clit on him wildly, eyes blackened and full of tears, barely can maintain eye contact with him. As her climax approaches again, he stops. Then again, he thursts into her core deeply. With each thurst, he whispers: "Say... my name" - "Feyd Rautha..." His eyes widen, a victorious smile on his full lips. "You like it when I fuck you", he stated nonchalantly. "What is on your mind, doll? Tell me." She manages to speak through moans: "Please Feyd Rautha, please don't stop!" Finally! She admits to herself that she just adores him like this, like uncontrolable horny beast with some gentle moments and lustful face expressions. Feyd, unable to control himself anymore, start to fuck her brutally hard. Her arms caress his stone-like muscles, then squeeze her breasts, fingers run through her hair. Her aching core and inner part of thighs start to burn. Feyd lets her cum. Her orgasm was strongest ever, she moans loudly and iregularly, almost like a wild animal. Feyd clenches his jaws and stares to Margot's face insanely. With one final thurst, his pulsating shaft sprouts it's ever so warm seed inside her dipping wet pussy. His dick still big inside her, he collapses on top of her, not yet pulling out. "You are mine now, Margot. You are my lover from now on, and shall have no other lovers. Visit me at least once a week", he ordered, breathing heavily. "Yes, Feyd Rautha...", she spoke before even thinking. Than she closes her eyes, saying in her mind "This will be challenging, but I need him to be controlled like this... And damn, I love it!" Feyd has just realized he was already totally into her. He lazily turns to her side, his possessive hand wraps around her soft waist. He just had the most strong woman he met under his control and she was more than willing... Still feeling sweetness and excitement of their hot encounter, Feyd takes Margot's lips into his own once more. "Rest now, my lover". Her wandering thoughts alowly fade, weaker than heaviness of her eyelids, and she falls asleep in his embrace.

[dilf-din]

Tethered (to The Story We Must Tell)

For @therebelcaptainnetwork Secret Santa

WC: 3400

A/N: Merry Rebelcaptain-mas @mistressorinoco !! I hope you like this glimpse into a magical world with everyone’s favorite tragic heroes!

It was a quiet life Jyn had made for herself, tucked into the whispering woods, far from the irksome hustle and bustle of the nearby village. Nothing greeted her in the morning except for the sun and the birds as she floated to the well to draw her water each day. No other beings disturbed her as she foraged in the afternoon, finding herbs to dry on her windowsill, save the rabbits and squirrels whose noses would twitch in a secret language she had come to understand over the years. They were all she had to talk to after the loss of her parents left her achingly alone in the world, with not much else to do than listen to the Earth as She groaned. None of the townspeople would come within twenty feet of her on the days she had to venture in for the supplies she could not grow on her own. It was just her and the forest, and she liked it that way.

The truth was, nobody liked witches. But she had always thought that maybe they just didn’t understand them. Her father was one of the most powerful warlocks of their time. Jyn had spent every second she could in his presence, soaking up his knowledge. She would peek over the bannister at night as he communed with other powerful men of the great age, straining her ears to pick up bits and pieces of their hushed conversations. Galen Erso was well regarded across the realm for his deep rooted wisdom and power. With him gone, she knew she had to carry out his legacy. Mix balms and potions to heal the sick, care for the spirit of the wood, bless the grounds to yield plentiful crops.

For months now, she had been so busy preparing for autumn that she almost forgot about the prophecy, the legacy of the Erso family that her father had told her of long ago. One day, their magic would save the entire kingdom. One day a man would show up on her doorstep and beg her for help. She just didn’t expect that day to be today.

Her focus was on the pot in front of her, simmering over the fire. A rich, earthen smell filled every corner of the room, breathing life into the old beams. Jyn’s nimble hands were carefully dosing out dried petals and crushed up stems to add to the bubbling mixture when her cat started to weave itself through her legs, getting tangled in her skirts, and mewling loudly.

“Alright, alright. One second,” she sounded annoyed, but when she lifted her eyes, a light caught her eye from the other side of the room.

She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and rushed to the old crystal ball that stayed perched on its ornately carved base in the main room. Deep red rubies decorated the solid gold pillar showing long forgotten constellations charted out by the witches of old. The very center showed the phases of the moon carved out in opal, an homage to their guiding light. Jyn had used the ball from time to time when she was in search of a hard to find root as her father had taught her— and she certainly didn’t use it to get tangled up in the affairs of men, so this would be the first time it had shown her something unprompted.

Jyn watched the orb in front of her with an amused smile twitching at her lips. Deep smooth glass revealed hazy images of a dark haired man scrambling over roots and briars, falling several times in quick succession only to get up and keep going. He looked panicked, but determined. Competent but a wild card. He was following the path that was marked out for him long ago, he just didn’t know it yet. Outside her cabin, a strong wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves loudly, signaling the man’s impending approach. Chills danced up her own arms in anticipation, and beside her on the table, an inky black cat hopped up to stare into the ball with deep green eyes mirroring Jyn’s own.

“So it begins, Pollux.”

——

Pounding. His head was pounding in sync with his steps. Each heavy footfall echoed through his body and made his head ring. For a moment, Cassian was afraid he would pass out. He didn’t have time for that though. Lord Vader’s ghouls were on his tail. Cassian was zigging and zagging through the trees, trying his best to shake the ghastly figures. Occasionally, he would hear their groans and see a flash of white, and it was like a fresh wave of adrenaline in his veins to keep going.

They weren’t dangerous from a distance. In fact, they were a lousy shot. But he didn’t want to know what would happen if he got within arm’s reach of them. Long slender fingers jutted out of the tattered sleeves of stark white robes. They were a gruesome mix of bone and metal, the result of a dark magic no sensible person would ever tamper with.

Cassian saw a clearing ahead and pushed into one final sprint. The ghouls came from several directions at once, screeching and wailing as he stumbled out of the tree line, tripping over one last root. He rolled to his back to accept his fate, having spent every drop of strength to make it this far. Cassian clamped his eyes shut and waited, but was surprised after a few moments that nothing happened. He tentatively peeked to see the crowd of ghostly figures pounding against an invisible wall that he happened to be on the other side of. His head swiveled to see an entire circle of pale blue light that sparked bright cerulean as they beat their eldritch fists against it, their distorted voices muffled by the barrier.

They were deterred almost instantly, fading back into the tree line while Cassian took the time to catch his breath. He had been chased for several kilometers and feared that his lungs would always feel that stab of fire when he breathed too deeply.

Having been given time for his thoughts to settle, he frantically patted his body until he felt the familiar lump in his pocket and gave another sigh of relief. With everything on his person intact and accounted for, he really started to take in his surroundings. He had landed next to a short stone well when he fell. Any farther, and he probably would’ve busted his head against the jagged base. And what the heck was that blue thing that stopped the ghoul troopers? He furrowed his brow and scrambled to his feet, slowly approaching the edge of the property. Cassian stuck a tentative hand out and was met with nothing but the chilled fall air. No pushback, no wall of energy, just a light peaceful breeze.

The cottage behind him stood humbly, weathered boards and a shingled roof not even cresting the nearby treetops. Vines of deep green ivy climbed two trellises on each wall, mirroring each other. Tendrils of heart shaped leaves spilled over the awning covering the door like a tuft of bangs, making the house seem almost human. The wide mouth of the door was stained a deep brown and hung on brass hinges so tarnished they were a dull, ashen color. The back of the house was almost flush with the treeline, leaves and branches seemed to hold on to it tightly, as if it belonged there. It was perfectly nestled in the wild of things, set apart from the rest of the kingdom.

A gust of wind brought a cocktail of new smells to his nose. Sweet things, earthen things, ancient things. Cassian took a deep breath. Something about the energy there felt like a lightning bolt through his bones, addicting, unfamiliar, and yet, like coming home, a feeling he had searched for his whole life. Along his arms, the hairs stood on end with anticipation as he approached the door, a hesitant knuckle reaching out to knock.

He gave three sharp raps and waited. Though there was no peephole, he couldn’t shake the feeling of having eyes on him, almost as if the trees had their guard up, ready to strike should he try anything with whoever stood on the other side of the door.

An eternity passed in the seconds he waited to hear the click of the lock, followed by the muffled sound of several chains and latches, before it finally swung open to reveal a girl. She came up to about his shoulder with green eyes wilder than the forest engulfing them. She had layers of lace and other thin fabrics covering her. Each piece turned into long, flowing sleeves or skirts of a different length cinched with a belt and a leather vest atop of stockings and knee high boots. Almost every finger and knuckle was adorned in silver rings of varying thicknesses, and on her neck sat a collection of necklaces on chains of different lengths, but the one that caught his eye, was a pale white crystal hanging low on her torso. It was shaped like a tear drop.

“Hello, Cassian Andor. I have long awaited your arrival,” she spoke with an almost sultry voice and a sly smile.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his palms were wet. Cassian was worried that if he spoke, it wouldn’t come out as more than a squeak. How did she know his name? What did she mean she had been waiting for him?

Thankfully, she ushered him inside before he found the nerve to speak. He took a second to take in the large open space they now stood in while she re-fastened all of the latches. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves holding all sorts of odds and ends. Stacks of books, magnifying glasses and other gadgets, jars that held what he hoped were animal bones, more books, candles, and all sorts of loose papers. From the age of the cottage and the wear of the leather spines closest to him, he guessed it did not all belong to her. The living area was connected to the open kitchen with a staircase and small storage room at the back of the building. A wide window over the sink shed hazy light on bundles of herbs and flowers carefully wrapped and hung to dry in the sun. Every wall was wood, save for the back one adjacent to the sink that housed the large stone hearth currently holding a large pot over lazy orange flames.

Cassian recognized it as the same smell from outside, and wondered what it was that she was making. A black cat appeared seemingly out of nowhere and rubbed his leg, purring loudly.

“I’m sure you must have a million questions,” Jyn continued, turning to face him after drawing the curtains in the den, “And it is my goal to have a million answers. Shall we begin? My name is Jyn. Jyn Erso.”

Cassian was intrigued by her eccentricity. Even now, she was continuing over to the hearth to tend to the pot on the fire as if his coming there had interrupted her daily routine.

He watched her move with precision and intent. She never hesitated, never second guessed herself. She was everything he wasn’t, and he began to feel quite small.

“What brought you to me?” she asked over her shoulder.

Cassian took a few steps forward, being careful to not trip over the very affectionate cat that was now glued to his side.

He tried to collect his thoughts in a coherent way, knowing he needed to do his best to make his story a believable one. He prayed she would have pity on his urgency and point him in the right direction.

“I work for the king. Well, not exactly. I just work in the stable. But the king, see, he’s sick, so his council sent me to find a sorcerer. They said there was a man in the woods who could heal him. Do you know who they’re talking about?”

Jyn smiled at the floor, a sad smile full of longing, and turned to face Cassian, “They sent you in search of my father.”

“Is he here?”

“He died last winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” his voice came out thick with sincerity. He barely knew this girl but he could see how deeply the loss had struck her. Cassian hesitated before asking, “Do you think you could help us?”

“Of course,” she almost scoffed, “He taught me everything he knew. Well, close to everything. Anything he didn’t have time to is written down in one of these journals,” she gestured to the walls lined with books. “I’ve read them all cover to cover. Tell me what troubles your king.”

Cassian leaned against the kitchen counter, and the cat hopped up beside him, “He’s being poisoned by Lord Vader. He’s been deteriorating, wasting away. He fell ill a fortnight ago, but none of our best doctors have been able to cure him. We don’t think he has much time left. It’s like Vader is draining the life out of him somehow. His name is the only world he’s spoken in days.”

Jyn listened intently as Cassian spoke of the king’s mind and body slipping away from him. The table of her mind had journals and papers spread out as she combed through her archives to figure out what kind of enchantment he might be under. She could feel the warmth of her father’s hands on her shoulders, and for a second, she almost reached out to grab one.

“And they gave me this,” Cassian paused to fish something out of his pocket, offering a white teardrop shaped crystal identical to the one around Jyn’s neck, “They said it would lead me here, and it did. I’m not sure how to explain it. Its like I could hear it—“

“Talking to you,” Jyn finished with a smile on her lips. Her arms wound around her own neck and she undid the clasp to the necklace with ease. She plucked the other half from Cassian’s hand and held the two pieces together. They fit seamlessly and began emitting a pale blue glow, as it being one again filled the stone with some sort of power.

“The Kyber heart has been passed through my family for generations. This half belonged to my mother. She gifted it to the king many years ago as a blessing of protection. His taking it off is what led to his mind being poisoned. The two halves long to be together. Though they may separate for a time, they will always come back as one,” she finished softly, this time looking deeply into Cassian’s dark eyes.

“The other half belonged to your father,” he said gently, not breaking the gaze, and Jyn nodded.

“Keep it,” he smiled, reaching his hand forward to close her fist around it, but she shook her head.

“It’s yours now. It chooses its master. Some people are said to be born with Kyber in their own hearts. The stones are drawn to certain auras. They particularly like those who possess great courage within their hearts,” she explained as she reached around his neck to fasten the necklace.

A heavy weight settled in his chest, something akin to honor. The moment was quickly broken by the cat yowling loudly in Jyn’s direction.

“I know,” she said to the small creature as she smiled and leaned down for it to head butt her, “This is Castor. He was my mother’s cat. It seems he approves of you as well. She died when I was very young. I don’t see him come out often.”

Cassian smiled and reached out a hand for him to sniff while another cat hopped up beside Jyn. Sleek and black, identical to Castor.

“This is Pollux. He belonged to my father.”

Identical crystals. Identical cats. All this talk of fate had Cassian questioning his role in this story. If what she was saying was true, the gravity of this place was always going to find him. He would always find himself back in Jyn’s orbit. He so desperately wanted that to be true.

Against all odds and presumptions, Cassian began to feel at home, in these walls breathing the same air as her. He tried to shove it down, but it was like a geyser erupting in his stomach, a warm feeling spreading through his limbs. He had never believed in fate, but she spoke as if the cosmos were pulling the strings to his life and led him here, and it had never sounded more convincing.

He couldn’t let himself get caught up in this, not yet.

“Now what?” he asked, “I don’t mean to sound in a hurry, but I’m afraid the King hasn’t got much time.”

“Now, we search for the spell to break the enchantment,” she crossed the room to a stack of journals and plucked them from the shelf, “Luckily for you, I remember reading about this very thing recently. Tell me, Cassian Andor, is this a coincidence as well?” she spoke as if she could read his rambling thoughts and a flush crept into his cheeks.

Her lips held a knowing smile as she cracked open the journal on top, an aged leather with thick gold threading around the border.

“What we’re looking for is called ruptor vitis, more commonly known as a weed killer,” she explained as she began to thumb through pages, handing Cassian the next journal in the stack to aid in the search.

Pages turning, fire crackling, cats purring. Their eyes and hands worked quickly to find the information they needed. It was a race against time. The old grandfather clack across the room ticked ominously as they searched.

Cassian saw recipes for healing potions, hexes for confusion, spells for protection. A quick scan of that particular page confirmed that was what he encountered when he stumbled onto the property. They were designed to keep out everyone but the pure of heart. Another odd tug in his chest as he continued to cautiously approach the idea that he might be more than a lowly stable boy. The gem around his neck chose him. Castor chose him. The king’s court chose him to be the messenger.

All his life he had been nameless. All his life he had been alone. Now he was standing in a warm cabin a mere two feet from someone who looked at him like he was worth something. She said his name with confidence. She listened intently as he spoke, taking in every detail, every stumble, every hesitation in his breathing. His apprehension had been palpable, but he could feel it melting away.

A few more flips, and he saw himself staring at the words Ruptor Vitis in thick, neat writing.

“Jyn,” he called, drawing her attention to the aging book in front of him.

She scanned it with careful eyes, her lips parting almost imperceptibly as she read each line to herself. With a nod, she closed the journal and tucked it under her arm. She snapped her fingers, and the fire in the hearth snuffed out, a wispy trail of smoke drifted into the open room while she grabbed her cloak from a hook by the door.

“We’ll need to pick up a few things in town, but I know how to make it work,” she explained, tucking the book into a basket along with a few candles.

Cassian stood frozen, not knowing what to do next.

“Are you ready?” she reached out to give his hand a squeeze, and he felt that aforementioned courage flood into his veins. Suddenly it all became crystal clear.

He nodded.

“Lead the way,” she smiled.

And something in him must have changed, because when Cassian pushed the door open with no hesitation to trek back out into the forest, and the kyber around his neck hummed a melody outside of time, he didn’t stop to question why a powerful enchantress like Jyn would defer to someone like him.

[gamerbearmira]

Hello resident evil au person sorry for the hiatus but I am back! First off I would like to say thank you Soo much for that snippet it was sooo beautiful and well done I've read it like 10 times now and I can't wait to see what you come up with next! also I love what you did with Isabela camilo and Bruno designs they look so cool!

I thought about what you said about the children idea and I agree that it would make sense for her to get them a bit how Alcina got her daughter so I thought about it and decided that Miranda would probably pick three orphaned children around five or younger (I was thinking boys since in the Madrigal family there's a generation of two girls and a boy then a generation of two boys and a girl and then one with all girls but not one with all boys and I don't know it just feels like it completes the rotation if that make sense?)

Their names are Desmond, Cassius and Sebastian they like Alcina's daughters have no memory of their human life and immediately saw Mirabel as their mother they can turn into moths just like she can but it's different species of moths for all four of them Mirabel can turn into the Madagascan sunset moth Desmond turns into the White witch Cassius turns into the Antheraea assamensis and Sebastian turns into the Polyphemus moth. I don't have much for each of their personalities just that Sebastian is a mama's boy and follows Mirabel wherever she goes and does whatever she says and gets jealous whenever she isn't paying attention to him (if it's his brothers his a little more tolerant but after an hour he will start to get huffy). Desmond is a bookworm and will read everything he can no matter what the book is about he also loves to paint play music and to make things out of yarn with Mirabel whether that's embroidering knitting whatever. Cassius is the wild child running around getting into anything and everything he can he has a temper that rivals pepas he has rage fits that he has a hard time controlling and usually goes to Mirabel when he's getting too worked up and she helps calm him down. I haven't thought about what they looked like I thought I would leave that up to you!

As always any and all artwork is appreciated and loved!

YOU THOUGHT I WAS DONE BUT I’M BACK 🙏

No but I am SOOOOO sorry this took basically a month the to get back to??? I was busy a lot of June and the thing is?? I literally started the drawing?? But I got distracted and completely forgot BUT THE ETHAN DRAWING REMINDED ME!! SO WE'RE BACK ON THE GRIND❗❗❗💪💪💪💪

ALSO I'M GLAD YOU LIKED THE SNIPPET!!! Maybe I'll do more hmmmm 🦫🦫

ANYWAYYYYY I finally did Luisa and Agustín. Eventually I'll do all of the family with color, but for now only sketches 😞But I'm glad you liked Isabela, Camilo and Bruno! Fun fact lol, at the time I had redone Camilo's jacket bout 3 times 💀💀

And I did get to do the triplets!! Also I like the idea of three boys, very fitting now that you mention the other gens 🤭🤭

They are very silly...I tried my best to match them based on their personalities. Also note, if they were colored in, their antennae and wings would match the moths, I swear 😭 also I gave them antenna and wings. Because they are still small children being exposed to the black mold 🌚 and I think they'd look more similar to Mirabel in that way. Except Mirabel has dragonfly wings, BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT

An idea I had, like Antonio lol, I think the younger the subject, the more susceptible they are to more physical/openly visual changes. Another fun fact, I almost gave the family members bug parts based on what you discribed them 🪕🪕🪕

ALSO RANDOM QUESTION...but like still related. If there was a family tree (given that this Casita is basically a darker, probably black mold invested version), would it be normal OR.

Would Mirabel be at the top and everyone just below her because, by Miranda's rules, she's technically the head of the house, not Alma. The seniority isn't by age but rather by the fact that Mirabel was named as that by Miranda. Idk, I was just thinking about it 🦀🦀

[wannab-urs]

I've Shattered Now

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Summary: Continuation of A Ghost of You (but can be read separately). Dieter dies and you have to learn to live without him. Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Strictly 18+ | MDNI | Drug abuse, mild violence, yelling, Dieter is not alive, mentions of intentional overdose, grief, so much angst. Dieter and Reader's ages aren't mentioned at all, so dealer's choice on that.

a/n: This was a hard fic for me to write, emotionally, but the words themselves came easy. I'm pulling from a lot of real life shit here. Please enjoy this little piece of my soul. And thank you to @beskarandblasters and @mishasminion360 for encouraging me and reading it over for me.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

I’ve Shattered Now

The hardwood floor is biting into your hip bones, your knees, your elbows. A sharp, pulsing in your lower back is sending waves of pain down your left leg. The space between your shoulder blades feels as though you have a knife buried to the hilt there. Your head is fuzzy, face swollen with tears and snot and ears full of a never-ending dull buzz. Your face is buried in a tattered green bathrobe that smells like weed, lavender incense, and Dieter.

 It still smells like Dieter. Oh god. Dieter. 

You scrunch the robe in your hands, pulling it impossibly closer to your face, and inhale deeply. Maybe if you breathe it in hard enough his scent will bury itself inside your skin, inside your bloodstream. Maybe it can live in you forever. Maybe he can live in you forever. 

Dieter. Dieter. Dieter. DIETER--”AGGGH”

A horrible, mangled scream rips itself from your throat. You slam your fists into the ground and kick your legs, flailing, yelling, begging. 

“Diiiiieter! Fu-fuck…Dieter!” you scream into the stale air of your apartment. Come back D. Come back….

You force your aching body to its knees, spluttering on your own snot. Half blind with tears, you draw a shaky breath and crawl across your living room floor to kneel beside your couch. You lay your head down on the worn green cushion and nuzzle your cheek into the last place that Dieter had been when he was alive. 

First Day of My Life

It’s a Wednesday, the first time you see Dieter Bravo. You don’t usually go out on Wednesdays, but this didn’t really count as going out. Your friend… kind of… Nissa was having a party to celebrate getting fired from her job. Considering your history with holding down jobs and your tenuous relationship with your current stint as a barista, you felt it fitting to make an appearance. 

Your usual scene — music wafting through the air from a record player carried by soft curls of pot smoke, friends giggling and leaning into each other on couches and floor cushions — this was not. You felt the bass pounding in your chest, vibrating your teeth, before you even reached the door. Inside the apartment, you were greeted with strobe lights… fucking strobe lights… flashing through a thick haze of smoke. There had to be 50 people in this tiny ass apartment. You consider turning around and going the fuck home because, seriously, fuck this shit, but before you can leave someone grabs your wrist. 

A man with wild, curly hair and a patchy beard. He’s wearing sunglasses even though it’s 11 at night and his broad shoulders are draped in a very threadbare t-shirt.

 “Can you help me with something?” he yells over the music. You give him a very confused look. What could you possibly help him with? Why the fuck is he asking you? He doesn’t wait for you to answer before asking “Would you like to have sex with me?” 

That is… not what you were expecting. It’s not wildly out of pocket considering you’ve apparently decided to attend a rave on a Wednesday night, but it’s certainly not what you thought you’d hear two seconds after walking inside. You lean close so he can hear you and shout “Maybe later? I’m not even high.” 

He nods sharply and pulls you by the wrist he’s still grasping firmly toward a doorway across the room. You follow him, bewildered, for a few steps before wrenching your wrist out of his grasp and shouting, “What are you doing? I said no!” 

“You said ‘Maybe later,’ technically. Follow me.” He pulls a baggie from his pocket and waggles it back and forth.

Understanding dawns on your face and you follow him. You step through the doorway with him and find yourself in the bathroom. He drops a pill on the countertop as you push the door closed. In the light of the bathroom you can see that he’s devastatingly gorgeous in a disheveled kind of way. His hair is curly and standing up in every direction. Your eyes travel down his body. He’s wearing pajamas, but his chest and shoulders are broad and look strong. You look back at his face.

“Molly,” he says simply, peering at you over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, pupils blown out completely from whatever he’s already taken. There’s a ring of warm brown surrounding the giant pupils and his eyes have a downturned shape… Goddamn this man has actual puppy dog eyes. 

You nod and grab the pill, popping it into your mouth and swallowing it dry. “Thanks,” you say in response. “Do you always start conversations that way? Asking to fuck?” 

“Pretty much.”

“And does that work for you?”

“Sometimes,” he gives you a pointed look over his sunglasses. You roll your eyes at the insinuation it had worked on you. 

“Just because I took your drugs doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Okay.” He says simply before moving to open the door. You follow him back into the party, taking note of the way your fingers are starting to tingle. 

Some amount of time later— you’ve lost track— your body is pressed against his at the center of the dance floor. Your whole body is thrumming with the music, vibrating with an undercurrent of electricity. The strobe lights illuminate everything in bright flashes. 

Your hands in his hair, tongues tangled together, chests heaving in time with each other. 

His forehead pressed to yours and his hands on your cheeks as you roll your bodies together in time to the music. 

Your hands laced together above your heads, your back pressed to his chest, your ass grinding into his hips. 

He brings his hands to your waist and turns you to face him. You move to kiss him but suddenly he’s holding a joint in the tiny space between your faces. His head flicks in the direction of the bathroom and you’re once again following him to the small room. 

Once inside, you close the door and sink to the floor, leaning your back against the bathtub and stretching your feet out toward the vanity. The man you’ve been dancing with all night perches on the countertop. He doesn’t look fully real right now, sitting above you, the wall light glowing an orangey yellow behind him. 

“You’re pretty.” you breathe up at him.

He chuckles and lights the joint. After 2 deep inhales, he passes the joint down to you. “Dieter,” he says. 

You tell him your name between hits, then pass it back to him. You scoot forward on the bathroom floor and lay your head on his calf. He’s wearing sweatpants, you note. Weirdo. There’s an inexplicable feeling settling in your chest as you kneel at his feet.

“Dieter,” you whisper. “Why does it feel like I’ve known you my whole life?” It’s the molly talking, you’re sure. You’ve barely said anything to each other. But it also felt kind of true. 

“Maybe you have.”

It’s Over Now, I’m Cold, Alone

The ceiling of your apartment is spinning, warping closer and farther away from your face. You are… so fucking high. Is this how D felt? Did he feel like the whole world was threatening to collapse on top of him? You hope he felt like he was floating instead. You hope the voices in his head were finally quiet. You hope he wasn’t scared. 

You take a deep, shaky breath in and hold it for as long as you can. You cough as you breathe out, choking on a sob. 

“Dieter. D. Dieter. Are you there?” He's always here. He’s never not been here with you. “Di-” you sob again, unable to force the words out of your mouth. A few ragged breaths.

“D… I can’t. I can’t do this without you. Come back. Please.” You think you’re praying. You haven’t prayed since you were a child. You hope Dieter hears you. 

You throw your hand out in the direction of the coffee table. Your fingers skim over the surface until they connect with a bottle. You dump the contents into your palm and swallow another pill, hoping it will finally be enough. 

You pull Dieter’s robe tighter around your shoulders, curling into a ball on the couch, and drifting off into a restless sleep.

Paranoid Delusions, They Haunt You

Dieter refused to use wireless earbuds. He wouldn’t put his fingerprint or face into the system, insisting on using a passcode, but he had a phone he used mainly for texting his dealer. He swore up and down that bluetooth fucked with his brainwaves. That putting his biometric information into the phone would lead them right to him. 

Two months after you moved in with him, he tossed his phone out, insisting it was tapped. He hadn’t made too much of a fuss over you keeping yours until now. Now your iPhone was shattered, a blade piercing through it and pinning it to the wall in the kitchen. 

You felt… defeated. You’d spent a lot of money on that thing. You needed it to talk to your friends, who you didn’t see often anymore. You needed it to text your boss and to get your schedule for work. 

Admittedly, you threw a fit. Was it childish? Could you be mad at him when he didn’t know what was real anymore?

It felt justified. He had destroyed your property. It was likely you’d be fired if you didn’t show up for work in the morning or at least tell your boss you’d be skipping your shift. 

But as angry as you were, you knew Dieter needed you. So you took care of him. You always took care of him. This broken man was rocking back and forth on the floor of your shared kitchen, crying and muttering and convinced for all the world that you were going to be taken from him. 

So you wrapped him in your arms and you promised him you’d stay. You helped him shower for the first time in days. You held him in your arms in the bed you shared and you kissed his forehead and whispered reassurances to him all night. 

You’d always been together, really, and you were never going to be apart again. 

Everyone I Know Goes Away, In The End

His funeral is today. You’re sitting in the park near your apartment, the place you and D used to sit for hours. You’ve read countless novels under this tree, his head in your lap as he sketched the people walking by. You’ve fed him french fries like Dionysus eating grapes, licked the salt off his lips. 

You’ve wrapped him in your arms, whispering reassurances in his ear that no one was watching him. No one was going to take him from you. Run your hands through those gorgeous unruly curls and peppered his face with kisses. You’ve read to him. He’d hated Wuthering Heights and he’d loved The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and he’d asked if you ever read happy books.

You’ve dropped acid and stared up at the sky, finding shapes in the clouds and meaning in the rustling of the leaves. Smoked joint after joint and talked about the stars and where we go when we die and what the point of being alive is and if there’s a god. 

You walk to the coffee shop down the street where you had your first real date. You had agreed to meet him here two days after the rave at Nissa’s house.

You hadn’t remembered giving him your phone number, but you had remembered a godlike figure passing you a joint on the bathroom floor. You had remembered his soft lips pressed behind the shell of your ear as he fucked you against Nissa’s sink, your legs wrapped around his hips, your hands clutching his hair like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. You had remembered the way he whispered that your souls were intertwined from the start of the universe and it had culminated in you, here, now. Bodies folded together. Breath mingling in a smoke-hazy bathroom.

You slide into your booth. The one you’d sat in for hours, telling him your tragic backstory. A mother who loved herself more than you. A father who loved drugs more than being alive. He had told you his own story. How he’d been in and out of state care facilities, trying to silence the voices he never really stopped hearing. How he tried to drown them out with weed and pills and coke and whiskey. How they were quieter with you, but they never really went away. You barely knew him, really, but you’d spilled some of your darkest secrets to each other mere minutes into your first real conversation. 

You knew then you’d never get the imprint of his heart off of yours. You’d never existed before him and you’d never exist again without him.

You sat there, in the booth you so frequently shared with him, and you stared at the place he should have been. Dieter Bravo did not belong six feet under the ground. He belonged here. With you.

I Will Let You Down

You unlock your apartment door and take a step inside. The scene that greets you is, truly, more than you can fucking handle today. 

The couch, usually seated directly across from the entryway, is flipped upside down. The cushions are scattered across the floor. Your coffee table is leaned against the window. There are papers scattered across the floor, drawings of strangers and landscapes and you litter every surface. A canvas depicting what you’ve called Dieter Devouring his Son has a gash in it. There’s a hole in the wall by the entryway to the kitchen. 

In the center of the chaos is Dieter. He’s sitting on the floor with his back to you. He doesn’t have a shirt on and his feet are bare. He’s muttering to himself, hands tearing at his hair, and rocking slowly back and forth. He doesn’t react at all to you coming in. Your heart leaps into your throat. This is bad. This is bad. You’ve never seen him quite this gone. 

“Dieter?” He keeps rocking at the same steady space, his muttering growing slightly louder. You walk up behind him and reach out, hoping to soothe him with a hand on his back. 

He jumps away from your touch and yells, “Get the FUCK away from me!” You stagger backward, shocked. Breaking down isn’t new, in your experience with Dieter. But yelling at you is. 

“Dieter it’s just me, baby,” you speak just above a whisper, trying to calm him. 

“Get away! Get away. Get away. from. me,” his eyes are wild. Unfocused. He’s not really seeing you, you realize. 

“Dieter. Go to bed. I really don’t have the energy for this right now.” You’d had such a long day at work and now your lover had destroyed your apartment and was acting as if you were out to get him too, joining the rest of the world in the conspiracy to end Dieter Bravo. 

“Fuck you. Get out! Get away from me! Get out Get out Get out Get out.” He stands up and crosses his arms in front of himself, as if to ward you off.

You move to grab his arms, wanting to pin them to his sides and shush him. He shoves you, hard, in the chest and you fall to the floor. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me!” He bellows at you. 

You look up at him from the floor, tears welling up and pouring down your face. He’s been out of it before, but he’s never hurt you. You scramble off the floor and dart out the door, slamming it behind you, but you don’t make it far. You can’t leave him like this. Not really. So you resolve to sit with your back against the door to your apartment all night.

A few hours later, you’re curled in a ball on the hallway floor, shivering and sore from being on hard concrete for so long, when the door opens. You rush to your feet and back away from the man in the doorway. 

Dieter looks at you with his giant brown puppy dog eyes, face streaked with tears, hair damp from sweat and hanging in his face. His hands are clenching and unclenching over and over as he slowly reaches out to you. “I’m so sorry…” He chokes out, his voice creaking. 

You press your back against the wall, as far away as you can reasonably get without running away completely. “You pushed me, D. And you- you screamed at me. You can’t yell at me, you know that, Dieter, you know that.” 

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby, you have to believe me… I-” he cuts himself off and looks down at the floor, folding his arms up by his head and tugging on his own hair. “I couldn’t tell. I thought it was real. I thought…”

You move toward him, slowly, like you’re approaching a potentially rabid animal. You reach out your hand and he flinches, “Shhh, D. It’s okay. It’s me. I’m here.” You reach both hands up and wrap them around his wrists, stopping his assault on his scalp. You press his hands into your chest and lay your palms over the top of his curled and twitching fingers, rubbing back and forth slowly in an attempt to calm him. 

“Didn’t know it was you… not really,” he mumbles in the direction of the floor. You press a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

“I know, baby. Let’s go inside.”

Wishin' I Were Gone

There was a short period of time last year that Dieter was on meds. Like real ones. Anti-psychotics. For the few months he took those pills, Dieter held down a job and cooked you dinner sometimes and cleaned up after himself. He showered regularly. You discovered that his paintings could be beautiful in a beautiful way and not in a scary way. 

He’d painted you and him, a sort of abstract smudging of oil paint creating the image of his body wrapped around yours. Your hands, arms, legs, completely entangled. The sunlight from your bedroom windows filtering down on your naked bodies and making you glow. The painting sits in the window sill, now. You’re staring at it from your spot on the couch. 

Your back is to the doorway of your bedroom. The room you haven’t entered since he died. The room with a dresser haphazardly stuffed with ratty t-shirts and sweatpants. The room where he stacked baubles and trinkets and rocks and gemstones on every surface. The room with the big bed you’d spent countless hours in with him, kissing and touching and taking and giving. You were usually so wrapped up in him in that bed that the outside world didn’t exist to you. You faded from reality there, with him. Joining him on some plane of existence where you were both safe. You want to go there again. 

You push yourself off the couch and stagger into the bedroom. 

A ray of sunlight is streaming through the window, falling directly on the unmade bed. You collapse into the center and wrap the blanket around you. It doesn’t smell like Dieter. You close your eyes and feel the sun warming your face. You feel yourself sinking deeper into the mattress. Your face is going numb, now. Your lips have lost feeling and it’s hard to open your eyes. You feel like you’re under a weighted blanket. Like you’re underwater and the waves are crashing above your head and you’re just watching. See you on the other side. You drag in one last shaky breath and succumb to the crushing heaviness surrounding you. 

I Miss My Lover

Dieter fucking Bravo was the love of your life. You never believed in soulmates, never believed someone could be made for you, souls two jagged pieces waiting to find each other and be made whole. And maybe you still don’t. Maybe you weren’t right for each other. 

Maybe Dieter was never meant to be here on this earth. Maybe he burned a little too hot and a little too bright to exist any longer than he had. 

Maybe for all your trying to save him, you only succeeded in destroying yourself. 

But, fuck! He wrote you poetry and painted you beautiful pictures and kissed you with his mouth full of french fries. He wrapped you in his arms and sang Etta James in your ear while you made Hamburger Helper. He kissed and held and loved every single part of you, even the jagged edges. 

Dieter Bravo’s soul was intertwined with yours. You think it still is. You think it always will be.

You’ll never be able to see the night sky again without remembering his lips on your neck and his hands on your waist and his voice in your ear telling you that you are more breathtaking than anything in the galaxy. 

You’ll never sit outside and read a novel on a warm spring day without hearing charcoal scratching the surface of a sketchbook. 

Every time you bring a joint to your lips, you are in that bathroom at Nissa’s house, looking up at his hooked nose and dark brown eyes and pouty lips and thinking he can’t be real.

There are some things, people, we come into contact with and they never stop touching you again. The imprint of them is forever pressed into your skin like little fingertip shaped bruises. 

Dieter Bravo grabbed your wrist one night, a few years ago, and he’s never let go since.

---

Series Masterlist

[welcome-to-hyrulepark]

[HYRULE PARK: 5TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL]

July 30th marked 5 years since I published the first drawing of Link meeting the boys from South Park. You have no idea what has happened over the years. First of all, Hyrule Park has outlived most of the other South Park AU comics such as Mirai Park, Hell Park, Revenge Park, SP Fleur Blue, SP Left 4 Dead, my pals South Park High and others. While they were actively developing and then abruptly canceled, Hyrule Park was just drawing its second chapter😆. During this time, my AU acquired a couple of fans but the comic took so long to develop that most of those fans lost interest in it (and some even lost interest in Zelda and/or South Park in general). But despite all this, I do not lose hope of acquiring my own fan base who would draw me fanarts, made memes, or just asking me, "When is the next part?"

Guys, I hope that your interest in Hyrule Park will be renewed, because I actually waited all these years for the release of Tears of the Kingdom so that I could immediately build the entire chronology of events, and at the same time honed my writing skills. Someone will say: “Hey, why do you need to hone something? Your pursuit of ideals will only destroy you! Do whatever you want.” And I really did. And here is the result: the comic version is being reworked, because I started making it back when I knew very little about the lore of both the Breath of the Wild saga and the Zelda universe in general.

Fun fact: I did not plan this story as a multimedia saga. It was supposed to be a short banter comic about Stan, Craig, and their homies ending up the world of Breath of the Wild, meeting Link, going on an adventure, saving Zelda and going home. But then I found out that the BotW sequel is in development, then I found out how fan comics work and what is interesting to fandoms. Then Age of Calamity was released, and I came up with a prequel fanfic called Hyrule Warriors: Backstories, after which I learned about new needs in the fandom. By the time I adapted this story for Ficbook.me, its canon had changed to such an extent that I had to rewrite everything from the beginning. Fortunately, I only wrote the first two chapters. Then I got other projects (FNAF MA, The EDM Gang and even the lore of my cybersona grew into a plot worthy of a manga), I had a need for promotion, so I started doing all these marathons of my favorite animated series and AU, taking part in Linktober and Art Fight... In the end, I have ADHD, a mental disorder that makes it hard to concentrate on anything, so my brain needed a change of activity all the time, which distracted me from Hyrule Park.

So, yeah. There are a crap ton of reasons for delays. But there is good news: I am already prepared enough to continue this story. I changed its format, and now I don’t have to draw every scene of the comic. Instead, I can describe some of them with text. I also formulated a more or less clear picture of further events. All I need are those for whom I will try, and I need to know about such people through feedback.

Hyrule Park - 5 years later, everything is just beginning!

[OG DRAWING] [BETTER QUALITY]

[squoonsquoon]

Get to Know my Tav!

@owmyeyeballs showed me this so I am doing @sporeservant 's ask game for Myka! :D

Myka | Teifling | She/Her

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: Hand Crossbows! She'll want to say "Pew, pew!" when she shoots. She doesn't, but she'd like to.

style of combat: Throw a spell on the ground, Moonbeam or Spike Growth, then Pew pew! Also supports her friends with healing spells. If she has a big buff friend, she gets them to throw her as a wild shape. It's a fun surprise for the enemy!

most prized possession: A locket from her friend! She hides it under her clothes, but brings it out when she's alone with fiddle with.

deepest desire: To find her parents. She more than anything wants her family to feel whole again.

guilty pleasure: Cheesy romance. She found a book once and it made her heart flutter! She'd like a cheesy romance of her own..

best-kept secret: She's pretty bad at keeping secrets, and most people can already guess her secrets. But the one she tries really hard to keep is her crush on Astarion. It's painfully obvious though.

greatest strength: She's very curious, and eager to learn new things. She'll have picked up plenty of skills and hobbies by the end of her adventure!

fatal flaw: She trusts too easily. Letting people get close to her and leaving back wide open to get stabbed. She's just lucky things haven't gone bad, and that she's had other people to watch her back.

favorite smell: A little bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy! It only recently became her favorite smell (for no reason at all). Before this is was roses.

favorite spell or cantrip: Guidance. She likes to be helpful!

pet peeve: Wizards. They think they're sooooo smart and powerful. (Looking at Gale and Rolan. She didn't like them at first but they grew on her)

bad habit: Running off without thinking. She has only very narrowly missed traps because her friends manage to grab her tail in time to pull her back.

hidden talent: She's a fast learner. If someone shows her how to do something, she can catch on quite quickly.

leisure activity: Snacking, sunbathing as a cat, making flower chains, sleeping in her pile of soft pillows tent.

favorite drink: Fruit juice. Freshly squeezed!

comfort food: tarts! Sweet or savory, she likes how they're packaged.

favorite person: She's got a lot of favorites; her sister Eli, her buddy Karlach, but most favorite is Astarion.

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Physical touch. She loves hugs and being held. She also takes a pet as a cat like no problem!

fondest childhood memory: Visits from her dear friend, Urelia. They were the one who found her alone and with no memory. Urelia tried to visit at least once a year, and those days Myka would get to hear stories from the outside and get fun gifts.

Is there anything else you'd like to share? (feel free to include art or a screenshot of your Tav if available!): Myka likes to meet new people! And I am loving drawing peoples tavs with her :3 Thanks to all the people who've sent tavs and for anyone who does so in the future! <3

[klonoa-at-blog]

From: Klonoa 2: Lunatea’s Veil Official Guide Book (Published by Famitsu/Enterbrain - 2001) (Pg. 203)  

~Messages from the Klonoa 2 Staff~ Lastly, we would like to show you messages from those who were involved in the development of Klonoa 2 to the public. You'll find hard work, inside stories, and a few positive ones(?!) here and there! ......So, thank you all for your hard work!

Takahiro Shimura Profile: ● Age: 27 years ago ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: 3D Background Design ● Comments: The backgrounds in Klonoa 2 are more elaborate than those in the first game, but not too realistic. The volume of the game is quite large, so you should be able to enjoy it for a long time. Thank you for all your hard work on the graphics, everyone! ● Favorite character: Klonoa

Noriyoshi Sekiyama Profile: ● Age: 24 years old ● Blood Type: B ● Responsibilities: 3D Background Design ● Comments: Once again, the precious sacrifice of Moo and his friends saved the world. If you bought Klonoa, please recommend it to those who haven't. ● Favorite character: Volk Moo

Yoshihiko Sato Profile: ● Age: 22 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: 3D Background Design ● Comments: This time I was able to design and layout the map quite freely by myself, which was fun. ● Favorite character: Bird on Baguji’s head

Atsushi Yamaguchi Profile: ● Age: 25 years old ● Blood Type: B ● Responsibilities: 3D Background Design ● Comments: Klonoa 2 was a very involved project for me. It's a wonderful game, so if you haven't tried it yet, please give it a try. By the way, what does the blood type (above ↑) mean? ● Favorite character: Moo found out in the wild

Tomohiro Abe Profile: ● Age: 24 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Publicity, Puppet DISP. (Scripting) ● Comments: Klonoa 2 was my first job, and I had a lot of fun working on it, and I think we all worked together to create this wonderful game. I hope you enjoy the world of Klonoa 2 to the end. ● Favorite character: Popka

Chikako Takagi Profile: ● Age: 27 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Puppet background assistance, and so on. ● Comments: I was happy to be able to participate, even though I entered in the middle of production. I think you're missing out on 62% of your life if you don't play Klonoa 2. ● Favorite character: Joila-kun...... I guess (laughs) (Joilant mascot)

Mitsuko Yuri Profile: ● Age: 27 years old ● Blood Type: A ● Responsibilities: Select and effect data creation (Interface Graphic Design) ● Comments: I was happy to be able to participate in Klonoa, which I had longed to do, even though I had only started in the middle of the project. I was allowed to draw the title of the game, the tiles for the Momett Dolls, the stars for Klonoa, and so on. Klonoa is a very pleasant game to fly in the sky. Please enjoy flying! ● Favorite characters: Tat and Giant Moo