Here, I will be posting all of my art. If you'd like to see my "scrapbook" blog, you can find me here. I will also reblog any art I post to other blogs to here, such as my Onimai fanart from the Miyochin yuri blog.
I may be found at the same tag as this blog's URL on most social media.
Directory [under construction]:
Ramblings & Writings will be tagged with varying tags depending on their content and style
Siren Posting - Lamenting and venting, mostly. Primarily about my relationship to swimming and the sea.
Original characters will be indicated by their name & source material, as well as the group they belong to if applicable.
Keisha [Genshin Impact]
Kiri [Pokemon Entomologist] - Pokemon
Lilith [LCB Sinner] - Limbus Company - Frankenstein
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there's something so deeply dystopian to me how tech companies don't understand that a forced convenience is not a convenience at all. i'm sure autocorrect is helpful for many, but a function that forcibly changes my actual written words and punctuation is taking away my language. photo filters can be nice but i need to choose using them myself or else i have lost the ability to take the picture i want. i don't want a machine to draw or write for me. taking away the option for me to do things manually feels like violence!!!! all this talk of endless opportunity, why are you RESTRICTING me
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Literary base: "The Creature" - Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley
“My person was hideous and my stature was gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination?”
Contract desire: To become or otherwise be treated as equal to her fellow human.
"This sinner is relatively cooperative, though prone to violent outbursts. She is proficient at following clear instructions. We suggest regularly providing positive enforcement and allowing her to feel welcome in your team. It is recommended you do not bring up the scars on her skin."
Passive themes: gains buffs when ally units of the same affiliations are present.
Almost always has a wrath skill. In this sense, she is almost a polar opposite to Gregor, where she will react with Wrath if pressed to a certain point—it is an innevitability, rather than an unfortunate possibility as with Gregor.
---
as an LCB sinner ID:
s1: lust
s2: envy
s3: sloth
defense: wrath counter
Her skill 3 would be something you're actively urged to discard for her counter when it comes up. The counter would probably turn into an empowered version of it when the skill is discarded. When she fails to change someone's mind on viewing her as monstrous (sloth, or maybe envy), she responds with wrath (her counter).
on-field passive: Gains 1 offense level (max. 3) & 2 defense level (max. 6) for every Limbus Company employee currently deployed. [3 lust resources]
support passive: TBD
Base EGO: "Mutability"
Voiceline: “'The path of my departure was free', and there was none to lament my annihilation”
---
Quotes I thought were relevant from the book:
"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel."
”I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me.”
”Hateful day when I received life!” I exclaimed in agony. “Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance."
---
sanguine red - justification: Sanguine red is a tincture similar to the color of arterial blood. The Daemon's first kill in FTMP—William Frankenstein—is choked to death. The arteries are the blood vessel which transport oxygenated blood out from the heart. The usage of sanguine red is a reference to the murder of William Frankenstein, and his deprivation from air in being choked.
---
General notes:
Victor is still a man. This is because Lilith is implied to be a trans woman. Hi. She chose her name with the company. Her contract's wish is essentially "I want rights as a human".
She still wants to be recognised as human. She doesn't realise, however, that she'd have been long eviscerated by the Head if she weren't already recognised as such. The abomination is human.
I'd like to play with the idea that Victor's attempt at creating "the perfect man" ended up not even being a man in the first place, because his own idea of a man is deeply flawed and clouded by gender dysphoria. I like the idea that what starts out as Victor's obsessed homosexual desires come out as Victoria's obsessed deeply repressed lesbian transgenderism. My English teacher suggested that Victor's obsession with creating Adam was also in a sense a reflection of the creative process, of isolating parts of one's self and placing them into an artwork, and becoming obsessed with seeing a piece to its completion. Losing track of time and forgetting to care for himself. So I want Lilith to be a reflection of Victor's dysphoria.
Literary base: "The Creature" - Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley
“My person was hideous and my stature was gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination?”
Contract desire: To become or otherwise be treated as equal to her fellow human.
"This sinner is relatively cooperative, though prone to violent outbursts. She is proficient at following clear instructions. We suggest regularly providing positive enforcement and allowing her to feel welcome in your team. It is recommended you do not bring up the scars on her skin."
Passive themes: gains buffs when ally units of the same affiliations are present.
Almost always has a wrath skill. In this sense, she is almost a polar opposite to Gregor, where she will react with Wrath if pressed to a certain point—it is an innevitability, rather than an unfortunate possibility as with Gregor.
---
as an LCB sinner ID:
s1: lust
s2: envy
s3: sloth
defense: wrath counter
Her skill 3 would be something you're actively urged to discard for her counter when it comes up. The counter would probably turn into an empowered version of it when the skill is discarded. When she fails to change someone's mind on viewing her as monstrous (sloth, or maybe envy), she responds with wrath (her counter).
on-field passive: Gains 1 offense level (max. 3) & 2 defense level (max. 6) for every Limbus Company employee currently deployed. [3 lust resources]
support passive: TBD
Base EGO: "Mutability"
Voiceline: “'The path of my departure was free', and there was none to lament my annihilation”
---
Quotes I thought were relevant from the book:
"I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel."
”I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition; for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me.”
”Hateful day when I received life!” I exclaimed in agony. “Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemblance."
---
sanguine red - justification: Sanguine red is a tincture similar to the color of arterial blood. The Daemon's first kill in FTMP—William Frankenstein—is choked to death. The arteries are the blood vessel which transport oxygenated blood out from the heart. The usage of sanguine red is a reference to the murder of William Frankenstein, and his deprivation from air in being choked.
---
General notes:
Victor is still a man. This is because Lilith is implied to be a trans woman. Hi. She chose her name with the company. Her contract's wish is essentially "I want rights as a human".
She still wants to be recognised as human. She doesn't realise, however, that she'd have been long eviscerated by the Head if she weren't already recognised as such. The abomination is human.
"What's this, the consequences of my actions?" ~3500 words
A short story about a museum heist I wrote in December of 2023 for a very poorly managed writing competition in my school (which I won, despite being from the campus which this competition was not meant for). I wrote this around the time I'd discovered "Frenetic Outlaws" by Groove Nazar and my winning of this competition acted as a permit into writing for me back then. It kicked off my enjoyment of creative writing. I did not think that Lunaria would've become as large a worldbuilding project as it did, and I'm still trying to pull it along even after two or three rewrites. I also named this after a Lovejoy song, ("Consequences", from the Pebblebrain EP) which shows how much of a little goblin for MCYT I was back then. It's not the work I'm most proud of, but I'd definitely say it's on the better end of things I've Produced. I think my favorite work has to go to either my Extended Essay or my article in november of 2024 on the rigged reelection of Nicolas Maduro which got DENIED PUBLICATION by the school's newspaper's first publication. Rest in peace you will be missed my dear Venezuela article. You were the spawn of many enraged rants and my toxic relationship with the Bulletin Club.
I've added some commentary for your leisure.
The subjects:
Dorian, a centrist thief who's partially in it for the love of the game but mostly because HE NEEDS MONEY.
Athis de Cleyre, a revolutionary, a majour figure in Lunaria's worldbuilding, and more recently an analogue for political figures like Simón Bolivar or Che Guevara. An escaped prisoner of a Prospect research facility.
Anactoria, ex-partner (in love and crime) of Athis, an (inherently) invisible woman who wears clothes as a powerplay rather than an attempt at decency, with exceptionally destructive tendencies. Would follow Athis to the end of the world and back.
Chapter 1 - Building The Frame
The studio apartment which Dorian lived and worked in was always filled with the rich smell of flowers. Athis could never pin down what flower. He’d said it was roses. She’d never seen it as such though, she thought of it as lilac — they’d argued about it every once in a while. Athis swiveled the chair she was perched on and picked the newspaper back up from the oak desk. The front page shouted in bold:
New Exhibit In Aurora Museum On The 41st
She searched the page for anything else that might be interesting. They’d been over the plan at least a dozen times. Placing the paper back down, she slipped the little throw-away flip-phone Dorian had got her when they were shopping for supplies out of her pocket. It was 16:36.
The ashtray sat across from her on the desk, next to it, the source of the “rose” scent stood near. A lit candle, the wax a beautiful coral, standing upon its plate to catch the melted wax.
Dorian knocked on the desk, snapping Athis out of her focus on the candle.
“Right. Here’s the map of the museum. Let’s go over this one last time, and hope you’ve not forgotten it once you get there tonight.” Dorian smirked, seeming proud of his comment.
“When we get there.” Athis corrected, the look on Dorian’s face being quickly replaced by a slightly annoyed frown.
“Right. Anyway, we’ll pick up a car. The most generic one we see, a few blocks down from the museum so that we won’t get noticed. There shouldn’t be any security because they’re closed for the next week and should–”
“Uh-huh. I enter through the side, the fire exit. I text you when I’m in.” She interrupted.
“Then you’ll go in the vent.”
“How creative.” Athis poked at the map where she was supposed to enter the vent.
Dorian attempted an eye roll. “I know it’s cliché’d, but it works. If it isn’t broken don’t fix it. It’s not covered by the cameras, the most they’ll get is some shuffling, which is only if the security system can survive me fiddling with the breakers.”
“Fiddling? I thought you would know what you were doing.”
“Well… it’s more of a vague idea. Think like, a child carefully ruining a build-up toy you’d worked on for the past hour. The systems can’t be that complicated. It won’t resist getting destroyed by these toddler hands.” Dorian waved his hands in front of him like a puppet being shook.
Athis blinked, settling her eyes back on the map. She slid her finger across the map of the museum, smudging ink ever so slightly as it passed over. “I go through the vents here, and I bring out the first arcane trinket.”
Dorian looked dumbfounded until an epiphany came across his mind. He snapped his fingers.
“The rope!”
“Yes, the rope. Which will come from the floppy disk. It’s not that complicated Dor.”
“Shush.”
“Then you’ll text me once you’ve fiddled with the breakers. I’ll respond to confirm I’m in place. I drop the rope down and slide down to the exhibit, or at least the boxes which’ll contain the target. I can shatter any defensive material it’s encased in, so we should be alright in that sense.”
“I’m still confused on why we want this thing, I’m down to steal it but why do you want it?”
“It’s about sending a message. It’s a masterless Prospect, the thing could go for millions. It’s dead anyway, but any rich gogglehead would love to get their hands on one of them, if just to parade it to his colleagues. I want Sol to know he doesn’t control us, that we’re not just pawns for his game of politics which he’s playing. Circei deserves better. Delur deserves better.” Athis stood up abruptly, hunching over the map on the desk.
“Then why not just protest or something?”
“You know those won’t do enough. We’ve done too many of those. They’re desensitised to it at this point. And we’ve got another on the 52nd.”
“Right…”
“We know the plan. One quick question, what happens if Ana is there too, we know from our sources that tonight is near the most optimal day to do this heist and we know that anything Johan knows is non-confidential.”
“The invisible one?”
“Yes. The invisible one. Anactoria.” Athis clarified.
“I’d half expected you to forget her name. And it shouldn’t be a problem. I asked Jo and he said he hadn’t sold the info to anyone else yet, especially not anyone named Anactoria.” Dorian gave a partial lie.
“Especially?” This information seemed to comfort Athis a bit. She straightened her back.
“And he charged me extra!” Dorian added, building on the lie.
“How much do you pay for his services again?”
He winced. “50 funks per point, so this one was about… 250. And he charged me 25 extra for that info.”
“How much is there to spare after that?”
“237 funks, 80 ticks and counting.” A half truth, that was how much they had, however, 25 of those funks deducted were fabricated. They were never real.
Athis smirked. “Sounds like we need the money from selling that thing, no?”
“Not if I can secure the sale from the cup. So much history behind the thing, tales too! People said it was made using metal from The Ruin!” Dorian’s eyes lit up.
“But it’s not. The dingy cup is probably just stolen from the remains of a dragon’s hoard. Either way, the history-types eat that kind of thing up.”
Dragons. Hunted to near extinction, the idea of it seemed hilarious to Athis. A race of gargantuan reptiles that leveled a whole city and ended a tyrannical reign of a near century. Creatures that collected great piles of one kind of object, teeth, skeletons, gold, metals, arcane items, to nest in. All this to be poached to the point of mimicking airliners and clouds.
Athis heaved herself off the table and made a brisk walk to a wooden cabinet above the kitchen counter, elevated about 70 centimeters from the counter. Opening it, grinders and tubes of different herbs & spices sit, strewn across a majority of the lower level of the cabinet. Atop the upper half of the cabinet made up of a shelf that splits the cabinet in half like horizon splitting earth and sky sits a box of crackers. She pulls it out of the cabinet, separating two packets from the mess of plastic within the box and placing it back inside the cabinet. Turning away and closing the cabinet in one movement, Athis opened one of the packets for herself as she walked back to the desk.
“Catch.” Athis tossed Dorian the other packet and sat back down on the swivel chair.
Dorian fumbled to catch the cracker, catching it just before it fell out of reach. “Thanks.” He peeled it open.
Athis pulled one out of the packet and held it between her pointer, middle finger and her thumb, picturing it in her head, pressing a pick into it and visualising the cracks form, coming back into focus in reality, the thin & fragile slab of wheat flour had shattered in her hold.
“You really like showing off your Prospect don’t you?” Dorian mumbled, snapping his own cracker apart.
“I need to practice using it, and also...”
She pointed her index finger at the rubble of the cracker, bringing her middle finger up to point as well, her thumb, ring & pinky fingers remaining coiled against her palm. Athis lifted her hand and a part of the pile of cracker shards levitated up with it. She moved the floating wad of wheat flour into her mouth and chewed it.
“It helps me get more precise with it.”
“Sure,” He replied. He checked his mobile phone, flipping it open. 17:23, and the sun was already nearly gone.
“How much time till we leave?” Athis questioned.
“About 5 hours.” Dorian returned.
-----
Gogglehead: refers to the Erevic (of the western continent's majour power, Erevel) cultural feature of wearing ornately adorned goggles. These were often worn by explorers who wished to show off the results of their expeditions, however in the modern age are also worn as a display of immense wealth.
Prospect: the magic system of modern Lunaria, often housed in a crystaline object which. manifests under extreme stress. These are obtained typically via a troubled birth or an extremely traumatic experience (though in many cases the trauma is drawn out and a Prospect only manifests as the experience reaches a less active state.)
-----
Chapter 2 - Impressionism
Dorian walked along the pavement about three blocks away from the Aurora museum, searching for a car. The most bland one he could find. About six cars into the block, parked on the side of the road, there it was. A gray, small and unassuming car which had space for four people. He’d use the back two seats to store the masterless Prospect when Athis got back. He opened his phone and sent a message to Athis.
“I found one” he typed out painfully slow on the little keypad.
“K, m almost in place–took bus” she responded in two messages after a short while.
“Hurry up”
Dorian began making his way to the museum building, walking briskly, staying in the shadows.
Athis had just gotten off the bus one stop before the museum, about three quarters of the way to the museum she received a text from Dorian, and sped up her pace to just under running. She saw the lights moving out of her field of view as she made her way to the Aurora. Rounding the corner to the museum, she turned down an alley and walked over to a metal door. The road was silent save for a few stray bird calls and gusts of wind. A curse and a blessing. She enjoyed the silence of course, but she knew it would be broken soon enough by noises of metal clanging and materials shattering. She cherished the quiet for a moment before pulling her scarf up above her nose like a mask and taking a cap from the bag. She placed it on her head and finally produced the first important item out of the backpack, a crowbar. She attempted to pry the door open, managing to crack it ajar and heaving the metal wall standing as an obstacle open with the sound of metal scraping against more metal. She crept through the door, pulling it closed before the wind slammed it on its own.
“Got through door.” She texted Dorian
“Right behind you” Dorian said aloud as he pulled the door open again, letting in a gust of wind and startling Athis.
She whipped back around toward the door. “Could you not just respond on the phone?!” Athis whispered in an annoyed tone.
“Well it was easier to do this.” He clarified.
“Just—go do your thing.”
“On it.” Dorian scuttled off into the museum’s halls.
Athis continued on through the halls of the museum, finding the planned vent. It seemed higher than she’d imagined. She took several strides back, and ran up to the wall. Leaping to the vent, which was actually fairly low, she managed to latch onto it with her fingers between the flaps in the plate. She used the end of the crowbar to pull a screw out of its place and she pried open the vent with the other end of the bar, tossing the grill onto the ground. It landed with a clang as she began pushing herself up, moving her arms and head into the vent, and using her feet to propel herself off the wall further into the claustrophobic corridors that followed.
Dorian opened a fairly well-hidden door which led to a staircase, trailing deeper down into the building. Exactly as planned. He texted Athis
“Found the staircase.”
No response. He did not attempt to bug Athis about it, if he was not wrong she should be in the vents by now. He knew he wouldn’t hear from her unless she took a wrong turn, and he was sure she could stick to the plan.
He made his way down the stairs and stepped into the next corridor, another door stood in his way. He took a lock pick from his pocket and stuck the metal strip shaped like an L in the bottom of the lock. He stuck the other jagged pick into the lock and began scraping it against the top of the lock to lodge the pins into place. After a few minutes of this, he succeeded, the lock turning with a satisfying click. He pushed the door open to see that the room was in fact, an absolute mess. There were cables strewn across the ground and a wall of switches. He took the switches to be the breakers and began flipping switches at random off.
“Like a child demolishing a toy,” Dorian repeated to himself. If he was right about how they had set these up, they now had about half an hour before the authorities showed up.
-----
Chapter 3 - Spilled Paint
Athis crawled through the halls of metal, the journey felt almost endless. The backpack pressed her torso against the bottom of the vents. Hoping she’d not taken a wrong turn, she repeated the series of turns which she had rehearsed in her head. The flip-phone buzzed. She ignored it and continued down the cramped halls of metallic sheets that made up the vents. Reaching the last turn she had memorised, she reached the spot she had traced her finger to on the map. Sure enough, there was another opening under her. She tried to push out the vent cover from below her, but it was also screwed in place. Athis closed her eyes once again and visualised the grill in her mind, and imagined it being shattered, similar to glass. As she pictured it, the metal became brittle and rigid. She pushed on the grill and it clamoured to the ground as she did so. Slinging the bag off, she passed it over the drop and onto the other side of the vent, taking out the first and hopefully final arcane trinket out her bag. She fished the floppy disk out the bag along with the reader, which she clicked it into. From in front the reader’s chord came a rope. It dangled out the hole in the vent. Making sure it was secured in place, she scooted the bag out the hole before her and, holding onto the rope, slid her way out the steel tunnels finally.
Dorian heard something akin to an explosive going off. It was dampened from his location. He assumed the worst and messaged Athis.
“What was that?” he frantically punched into the keypad.
Athis didn’t respond.
“Is everything alright over there??” his typing becoming more stressed.
He decided to make his way back to the car.
Athis’ feet landed on the ground as a loud blast and a flash of light came from the wall in front of her. She dashed behind the nearest cover and hid from whatever or whoever was outside. From the rubble of the explosion, a tall silhouette stepped in, seemingly missing a body.
“Ana I think” Athis hastily typed to send to Dorian.
Athis had barely noticed that the exhibit she had taken cover behind was the case housing the masterless Prospect. The uninvited person reached out to the case. Athis snatched the gloved hand, confirming that it was indeed Anactoria by the lack of fingers through the fingerless gloves, she was the invisible one.
“Ana?!” Athis exclaimed.
“Fancy meeting you here, de Cleyre.” Anactoria declared with a coat of sarcasm.
“Dorian said you weren’t gonna be here!” Athis stood up and placed her fingertips on the glass casing atop the wooden pedestal which contained the target. “What was your escape plan?!”
“I’ve always been a runner kind of lady. Never had an escape plan, I was just gonna wing it.” she replied smugly, adjusting the cap on her head.
Athis turned to the hole left in the wall from the explosion.
Dorian bolted out the museum, through the same emergency exit they had entered through. He rounded the corner of the street, sprinting towards the car he’d chosen. He opened the door and sat. Picking the lock of the ignition, he hastily jammed the ignition and got the car running to leave. He knew this neighborhood. He knew the whole way back to Saint Saens like the back of his hand. He knew that any complications in the plan would make the police arrive during the process, and that he should have actually asked if Anactoria had bought information from Johan, but he did neither. He knew he was closer than Athis to the car and that he would have to make his getaway fast if he wanted to avoid possible repercussions. He floored the accelerator and disappeared off into the late-winter’s fog.
-----
When she proofread this, my sister asked "why does anactoria wear clothes?" and my response to that was mostly that she:
wanted Athis to know who she was
would be cold, since it's winter
doesn't really care that she's invisible, and prefers to act like she isn't.
-----
Chapter 4 - Repainting
As the dust of the wall settled, a chilling draught was let in from the outside. Athis did her best to ignore it, focussed on the glass of the case. Trying to clear her clouded and stressed mind, she thought of the glass shattering. A bullet piercing the glass and watching the cracks seep out like a web. The glass didn’t shatter. Athis tried to picture it again. The glass remained unperturbed. This visually stressed Athis. She lost focus, instead focussing on the Prospect. The object that the theft of would prove to Sol that he did not control the people of Circei. Any old thief would want this thing for personal gain, but at this moment its purpose was to serve as evidence, not to gain monetary gain or power, but to prove the autonomy of civilians. Anactoria placed a fingerless gloved hand on Athis’ shoulder.
“Calm down, I came here for fun. I know you have a reason to take this thing, you always do. Break the glass.” She watched contently as Athis indeed calmed down.
Athis pushed tensed her fingers against the glass, once again playing a repeated image of a bullet flying towards the glass and shattering it. Coming back into focus, she pushed gently on the glass sending shards clattering down. She grabbed the masterless Prospect.
“Now, we should probably go.” Anactoria pointed out.
“I know.” Athis replied, turning once again to the gap in the wall and stepping toward it.
They both knew that authorities would be appearing any time soon. Anactoria’s entrance had made who knows how much noise, and most likely alerted several people to something suspicious going on. They made their way to the next block of buildings, rounding a corner to create some distance between them and the museum
Athis messaged Dorian frantically yielding no response.
“With Ana”
“Got out”
“Hello??”
“Where are you??”
“Dorian isn’t responding.” Athis complained.
“Here comes one.” Anactoria lifted Athis’ hand up. “Put your thumb up.”
“Why?”
“It’s a signal for hitchhiking. Because clearly your original getaway isn’t going to come back.” Anactoria sternly remarked. Athis made a thumbs up and stuck it out to the road, watching an upcoming driver pull to the side of the road where they were.
The driver had feline features, rolling down the window.
“Where’re you going?” The driver asked in a deep and raspy voice.
“Saint Saens.” Anactoria responded.
“Right, hop in.” The doors of the yellow car unlocked with a click as he rolled the window back up.
The two thieves entered the back seats quietly, thanking the driver.
The drive to Saint Saens was silent save for the pop music of Ourobora FM. The feline driver made no attempt at conversation.
Anactoria broke the silence as they entered a long strip of highway surrounded by fields and trees.
“Lucky we found a driver who knew what that sign meant, weren't we?” Anactoria whispered, remaining below the music.
“Sure.” Athis absently returned.
“I ruined your old plan didn’t I?”
“You sure did.” Athis mumbled.
“You’ve got a new partner in crime?”
“Not much of a partner in crime now.” The words partner in crime came out in a mocking tone. Athis stared off into the window.
“I’m always available if you need another to tango.”
“Two years.” Athis barely pronounced.
“Two years?”
“It’s been two years Ana! Two years since you disappeared. And now you show up in the same place as me at the same time. I probably would have been less annoyed if you’d shown up before me because then I’d still be able to live in ignorance still thinking you’d left or died or something. But of course you do the same thing as the last time.” Athis spat. Anactoria was never not considered as a possibility when Athis was planning. The ever-so destructive nature of Anactoria’s plans led to a need to “Ana-proof” her plans until she was sure Anactoria would not be an issue.
“Look, I’m sorry. But two years is quite a long time to hold a grudge on a person who you haven’t seen for that whole time. I had another thing going on. I thought if I met you now I would be able to rekindle our partnership. Remember the time we spray-painted the Sol statue?”
Athis chuckled at the mention of this instance. “Yeah. We were new to it. Got caught, and we bolted to the tram cart.”
“I heard there’s another one that’s being built.” Anactoria hinted, poking at Athis’ shoulder with her index finger.
-----
I'd to an extent like to entertain the idea of continuing this text, but I also don't really care for it as much anymore, and I'd probably have to update it for some worldbuilding purposes (although I guess most of this works as an isolated event, since it takes place before Athis' prime.) I also like how past me implied a past relationship between Athis and Anactoria. I want to make more content of them, but I'd also like to redesign Anactoria with a design that feels interesting to draw. I didn't like how I had drawn her before.
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i got sick of them being sad / milagro being mad at kira all the time so here's some cuddles. kira is super clingy. kira once they're on good terms/in a relationship genuinely holds onto milagro like she's going to wither away into dust if she lets go because she had to do so much to make up for the bullshit bullying she put milagro through in the past.
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If we'd never parted then I may have never found myself. I wish I could place my faith in you to have given me comfort in myself despite that deep hollow I felt within my soul, to have taught me how to live and love myself. Yet it was not in time, to no fault of your own. A long time ago, before I knew it, I was whisked away by the winds to a place I knew nothing yet so much of, and I grew to be someone I disagree with–yet I grew. The winds took me once more, and there on my journey they taught me what the hollow within me was, and how I'd be able to ward him off. I grew to be a different person. Myself, as I was at the time, and later myself as I am now. And today, I find myself dreaming of you again, your silken embrace capable of yet not attempting to drown me, your push and pull which lingered, your faint flavour of salt or chlorine or ammonia depending on the instance of your being, yet they were all made of you in the end.
Intersperced between my stumblings in the winds I was often met by brief brushes l with you, as I stood on coarse sand whether barefoot or not. I wonder if you recognised me in that moment. I know I didn't. I distanced myself from you, and tonight I find myself regretting it.
I look forward to the day I will meet you again in dress and body which matches the true me. I hope you look forward to it, too. Though I doubt you have the capacity for it in your unfilterable and unfocussed love.
