[ID: Kirby series fanart of Magolor passing through a star-shaped dimensional rift, the colorful latticework skies of Another Dimension visible behind him. His clothing changes as he moves through the water-like surface of the rift, shifting from his tattered Interdimensional cloak to his humble Shopkeeper one. He squints and holds up a hand against the brilliant sunlight shining down on him from this strange new place, the Gem Apple sapling in his other hand glinting with potential. END ID.]
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hi. unfortunately i dont have much to say here apart from the fact that it is 01:10am as i writing this to schedule it for 9am today, starry night by capsule is playing in my headphones and i am very VERY tired and as such struggled immensely to finish this drawing but am nonetheless happy with how it turned out . good poppystar night
oh yeah also i didn’t mean the make it a transparent image but fuck it we ball bc i like it better this way actually
OH also it’s based off of this kirbandee photo
i thought the idea was really cute so i drew it as poppystar because . yhea
📖 Chapter 1 of my Witcher fanfic Through the Cat’s Eye is live!
A canon-divergent, magic-rich fantasy romance featuring portals, monsters, worldwalkers, and a slow-burn love story with Eskel. Updated weekly.
Yennefer feels the first tremor in Toussaint. But what comes through the rift is not what they expect.
AO3 link: Read on AO3
The air over Toussaint had always shimmered—wine-sweet and perfumed, flush with summer magic and vineyard heat. But tonight, it was wrong.
Yennefer of Vengerberg stood at the edge of her and Geralt’s estate, an elegant hand wrapped around the stem of a crystal glass. Her gaze fixed not on the rows of ripening grapes, but on the ground itself.
The soil pulsed.
It was faint, like a heartbeat under stone. But it was there. She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
A ripple passed through the earth like a breath, making the edge of her hem lift, whispering along the tips of the vines. Behind her, a servant coughed and stepped back into the chateau. He knew better than to interrupt when she was in a mood like this—eyes narrowed, still as a drawn bowstring.
The heartbeat came again.
She turned and strolled toward the vineyard’s edge. Her boots made no sound on the path. Somewhere between the neat rows of vines, a lantern flickered—then went out entirely.
Yennefer stilled. Reached for the threads of chaos beneath the surface of the world.
Something moved in response. Not near. But not far, either.
And then the glass in her hand cracked with a soft pop. A hairline fracture sliced through the stem like a lightning bolt. Yennefer hissed under her breath and let it fall.
She returned to the house and called for Triss Merigold.
The redhead arrived an hour later, swirling through a portal near the stables, where Yennefer had traced runes in salt across the flagstone.
“Another midnight summons,” Triss said, brushing dust from her sleeve. “You know, you could just send a letter if you missed me.”
Yennefer arched a brow. “I don’t miss anyone.”
“Liar.” Triss half smiled.
“I didn’t summon you for banter,” Yen replied, kneeling and pressing her hand into the soil. “You need to feel this.”
Triss’s brows furrowed as she watched Yennefer. Kneeling, she pressed her fingers to the soil. Then blinked.
“What in the name of Melitele…”
The pulse rolled through again—stronger now. Triss’s hand jerked back.
“I told you,” Yennefer said softly. “The ground is pulsing.”
Triss rose slowly, green eyes darkening. “It’s more than that. There’s pressure here. Like something’s trying to tear through it.”
“Exactly,” Yennefer murmured.
They moved in tandem after that, silent and purposeful, slipping through moon-wet grass toward the northern edge of the estate. Yennefer had a grove there—she kept it for solitude, meditation, and the kind of spellwork she didn’t want curious nobles sniffing near.
But now the trees leaned strangely.
And the air?
It shimmered too brightly. Like a heat mirage. Like something was bending the weave of the world.
Triss reached out, touching the ground near a tree. “It’s not just Toussaint, Yen. I’ve heard whispers—Aretuza, Oxenfurt, even Skellige. They’re calling it a surge, but this... this is a bleed.”
Yennefer’s eyes narrowed. “You think something’s leaking through from a parallel world?”
“I think something’s trying to.” Triss shook her head. “This isn’t natural. Not even raw chaos behaves like this.”
Yennefer studied the flickering shimmer in the soil.
Then, with a quick step, she headed back toward the house. “We need to get Geralt.”
The fire had burned low. Geralt sat in one of the deep armchairs near the hearth, boots off, a book open but unread in his lap. The pages blurred. Not from wine or weariness—but from the tension that had been building all night.
The medallion at his throat had buzzed softly for hours. Barely audible. Just enough to keep him alert.
He stood and crossed the main room of the villa, pausing by the window. The estate’s vineyards stretched out beneath the moonlight, rows of silver and shadow. It should have been peaceful.
But the land felt… unsettled.
The ground didn’t move. Not exactly. But something beneath it did.
That’s when Yen burst into the room, followed by Triss—making his eyebrows rise in surprise.
“Something is wrong,” she started.
“I know,” he said, then touched the wolf medallion.
“Come to my grove. I want your thoughts.”
“I thought that was our grove,” he said under his breath.
“We’ll have time for your grumblings later.” Then she turned on her heel and headed back out.
The clearing in the grove was faintly lit—glowing runes crawling along the trees, spiraling into the soil. Some were familiar, but others were not. Angular. Slanted. Inked in the syntax of another world.
“Elven,” he muttered.
Yennefer’s eyes were on the center. “Old Elven. And recent.”
Triss stepped into view. “These weren’t here earlier. We didn’t cast them,” she said.
Geralt frowned. “Then who the hell did?”
Yennefer didn’t reply. She only raised a hand, pulling the others up short. In the center of the grove, a portal burst into life.
And then—he stepped out of it.
The elf materialized from light and smoke, tall and too thin, wrapped in ash-stained leathers. His golden hair hung like a veil, and his eyes held no fear.
“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” he said, his voice as hollow as it was certain.
Yennefer’s tone sharpened. “Identify yourself.”
The elf inclined his head. “I no longer use names. But once, I was called Tyel.”
Geralt studied him—familiar, but not. A creature who moved like a soldier and spoke like a priest.
“A worldwalker,” Triss said. “I thought you were all gone.”
“Almost,” Tyel said. “The rift devours many.”
He moved closer to the edge of the runes. They pulsed under his feet.
“My realm is dying. This one is next.”
Geralt folded his arms. “Is this a threat or a warning?”
“A warning. I have come to offer a warning and help. A darkness has taken over our realm. It threatens yours now. Do not be so slow to react as we were. It starts in energies off, then the portals open for the darkness to infect. Your Ciri is from this world, no? It would be a shame for it to fade as ours has.”
The shimmer in the air thickened. A hum rose from the stones and trees.
“You said you’re offering help. What exactly are you offering?” Triss asked cautiously.
“A blade,” Tyel said. “Forged to hold the line. Trained to close the portals,” he added, almost gently. “She comes with blood in her teeth and flame in her soul. If you work together, you can stop the darkness before it steals your light.”
Yennefer’s face was stone. “And you expect us to just accept this?”
“My people are crossing to a new realm before we are extinct in our own. I will check with you before we cross and send her to you if you wish it. You must decide quickly. I will return with the dawn.”
The ground cracked with a flash. The portal split the air, wild and jagged.
Yen let out a jagged sigh. “Shit.”
The portal reappeared just before dawn—earlier than expected, and far less stable.
It split the air with a sound like tearing silk, snarling at the edges with wild magic that flickered between violet, silver, and void-black.
Geralt was already in the grove and drew his sword immediately. Something wasn’t right.
Yennefer stood at his side, palm crackling with controlled chaos. Triss flanked them, her lips mid-chant, ready to stabilize the weave if things spiraled.
They expected a person—Tyel.
What they got was a thing.
It slammed through the portal—a writhing mass of sinew and oil-slick tendrils, eyes like hollow coals blinking in too many directions. The stench hit them first—rot and ozone—and then it screamed. Not a voice, but a pressure. A wave of sound that clawed at the mind.
Geralt moved. Fast. A clean arc of silver aimed at its throat. The creature surged past him.
Yennefer’s ward absorbed its first strike, but her feet slid in the dirt from the force. Triss’s chant shattered mid-spell. The thing lunged for her with a wet, boneless hiss.
And then—
She dropped through the rift.
Steel flashed before her feet touched the ground.
Dyv landed in a low crouch, a curved sword already arcing. The blade caught the beast mid-lunge, slicing through flesh like buttered parchment. Her other sword sliced a tentacle cleanly off.
The creature shrieked, buckling.
She moved before it could retaliate—a blur of black and burnished metal as she pivoted and drove both blades into its skull.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Then silence.
The beast twitched once, spasmed, and stilled. Smoke rose from its ruined form.
Dyv stood slowly.
Her armor was sleek, black, and form-fitting. Her vambraces gleamed faintly, veins of red flickering along their etched lines. A long scar slashed through one brow, and her hazel eyes gleamed in the soft light of dawn.
She looked at each of them in turn, her breath steady.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then she nodded once. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m Dyv.”
Triss blinked.
Geralt lowered his blade a fraction. “Where’s the elf?”
A shadow of something crossed her face. “Tyel didn’t make it. He was killed getting me through the portal. He said I am to help you stop the darkness from taking over this world.”
Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “And we’re supposed to take your word that you’re the blade we were promised?”
Dyv’s lips curled faintly. She glanced back at the dead monster behind her, then back at Yen, raising her eyebrow.
She sheathed both weapons with a clean, practiced motion.
“I’m the one they sent. Actually, I may be the only one left.”
Triss furrowed her brow. “You mean your people are gone?”
“Yes. Some made it through the portal to the new world. Most, like Tyel, weren’t so lucky. He said I was to protect Ciri’s world. So I’m here.”
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Dr. Katon inhaled slowly, stepping through the Way and into the sensory nightmare that was the Library. It was almost immediately that they so rarely made the trip to this place. Still, this was a special occasion, at least in Katon’s mind, they weren’t sure about the person they were going to meet.
“Could you tell me where I could find somebody,” they smiled at the Docent, “She’s by a cafe, H.P Brewcraft she said?” The Docent guided them slowly. In the mundane world, they were always acutely aware of how dated their clothing of half-choice was. Now, though, they didn’t feel out of place beyond the dull pain caused by the vision not blocked by the scratches on their left lens.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk, it never was with these sorts of things, before they were in front of the cafe and looking around for someone they’d only seen pictures of. “Miss Moonwalker?” they called softly.
(for @ygo5dsmonth2020. Day 8: Further Turbo Dueling King, the Master of Faster, lover of ramen, and one hell of a (jack)ass. Today we’re celebrating the King Himself: Jack Atlas!)
Definitely took this differently as the focus is on Jack, but not from his perspective. This is actually a fic idea I’ve been mulling over in my mind, so maybe this will finally kick me into gear to work on it. But, as always, WARNING: SPOILERS FOR 5DS
Yusei waited, standing behind the cargo building while the waves crashed against the Satellite docks. Ahead of him, Jack Atlas crouched over a tiny boat that held a struggling boy. Yusei recognized him, Rally’s voice thundering in the empty space.
“Why are you doing this, Jack?” Rally tried to pull away from the blonde, his body twisting and turning as he was bound in ropes. Yusei could not see Jack’s face, but he knew he held a neutral expression. It was the one he always wore when he did something he did not particularly enjoy but knew he had to perform.
“Struggle anymore and I’ll throw you to the sea now.” Jack mumbled, his hands keeping the boy down in the boat. Rally stopped struggling. Yusei also could not see his face, but he heard Rally’s sniffles as Jack continued his ministrations. He made sure the boat was stable before he would push it off.
“Please, Jack. Tell me why.” Rally sniffled.
Jack’s back tightened, Yusei could see it even from behind the building. He wanted to desperately to run out and smooth those lines, to wrap Jack in his arms and tell him it was alright. That everything was going to be alright and that Jack was special and no one would say otherwise.
But any interference would give the enemy exactly what he wanted.
“Just shut up.” Jack mumbled again, his voice strained. Yusei glanced around himself, looking into the shadows. Paradox had yet to show, which meant that Yusei had time to watch events unfold. Ones he had not been present for, had no way of ever knowing what really happened or how Jack felt. In his memory, he had been so angry with Jack. The blonde had betrayed him, throwing their friend out to the sea and making him choose between his life or his cards. Yusei took the obvious choice but lost his duel runner and dragon. At that moment, Jack had been vicious and arrogant, settling to become king no matter what.
But learning of the trials and pain Jack had undergone, following Godwin’s orders and being coaxed and goaded into taking the dragon, Yusei could not help but pity him. He could see it in his shoulders, in that neutral expression that hid his agony, in the way he hesitated before pushing Rally out. Everything Jack did had something else within. He was not doing this simply to gain his royal title: he was doing it to save his friends and family.
Who was to say Godwin would not have come after them? Who was to say that Godwin’s agenda would result in him doing far worse than coaxing Jack to steal and run?
A swirling vortex appeared to Yusei’s left. He pressed himself against the building, hiding in the shadows as a portal opened. The same one Yusei had run into to stop Paradox. Speaking of the Devil, the very man stepped forward, his hair dancing around his mask as he stared at Jack’s back. Yusei could not tell if he was smiling or frowning, but his gaze was locked on Jack. His intention was clear.
A hand came up. Within his palm sat a pistol, black, heavy, and deadly. Yusei’s heart hammered in his chest, his legs tingling as he moved before he even thought. He threw himself at Paradox once more, tackling him back toward the portal. The gun dropped from his hand, falling into the glittering, red space and disappearing into another time.
Everything seemed to slow down. As Yusei fell with his enemy toward the vortex, his head turned to catch one last glimpse of the former Jack Atlas. Unknowing of the danger lurking behind him, the blonde still remained turned away, his arm up as a screen flickered before him. Yusei could see himself talking with Jack. His face was younger with far less stress and anxiety. He was markerless and naive.
It was the moment when Jack had told him where Rally was. Had sent him coordinates to lure him into a deadly choice and to lose his trust in Jack for several years. At the time, Yusei had been angry and upset at Jack’s betrayal. Older and far wiser, Yusei’s heart yearned to fill the emptiness within Jack’s chest. All the pain and all the suffering he had gone through in this moment… Jack had willingly betrayed Yusei to protect him and to gain a new life. One he regretted every single day.
Yusei would eventually learn the truth. It would not be until years later when they would fight amongst themselves with the Crimson Dragon scolding their behavior. It would not be until after Jack bled and Yusei cried that they would reconcile their sufferings. It would be another year before Yusei would be brave enough to press his lips to Jack’s, testing the waters of their friendship. And it would not be until yet another year before Jack would ask Yusei to marry him, his smile and heart and soul so much calmer than it had been in all his life.
The pain they endured at this moment was worth it all. Worth the eventual desired outcome despite how much Paradox tried to change it. Jack’s death would change the whole future for without his regrets, the Signers never would have met. Satellite and Neo Domino City would never have connected. Yusei would have been none the wiser, his Stardust and duel runner still within his possession and Rally saved. Jack would have faded from their existence, thought to have run and never made a name for himself. Yusei would have thought what could have been… and the torture and anguish of the people of Satellite would have continued. Perhaps, the Earthbound Immortals may have even won their game. Yusei would not have obtained his power, and none of the Signers would be there to stop their reign. Jack had been key to starting it all… and his death could be the reason they all fell.
“You fool!” Paradox cried out, both of their bodies passing through the vortex. Jack began to turn but Yusei and Paradox were sucked within, the entrance closing most likely before Jack could have seen. In his hold, Paradox struggled to push Yusei away. Grunting, he clung on, keeping themselves pressed together. Like hell he would be thrown away to a random time!
“Don’t you want to save the future? Why do you fight this?” Another portal opened at the end of a long tunnel, their passage to head back to Yusei’s timeline. Still clinging, Yusei focused on the white opening. He could hear Akiza, Lua, Luka, Crow, and even Jack calling out his name. Their future was still intact… and Yusei had a husband waiting for him on the other side.
“The future isn’t set in stone! And—I won’t let you do it! I won’t let you kill Jack for an outcome you aren’t even sure will happen!”
“It’s one life, Yusei! One life for thousands! Surely you must see the greater good here?”
They drew closer to the opening. Yusei honed in on Jack’s voice, hearing the terror and anguish yet adoration and confidence in his return.
“I will change the future! I will make it so Synchros never destroy us. And I’ll do it with Jack by my side! I won’t ever let you harm him.” Yusei glared, his face inches from Paradox’ mask. He could not tell his expression, but the enemy stopped struggling. He let them fall into the bright white light, back to the future already created because Jack got to live.
Maybe, just maybe, Paradox was starting to believe in Yusei. Believe in him just as his friends did. As his husband did. Believe that he could change the outcome that lay ahead. And Yusei, despite not believing in himself, would do everything he could to make that outcome a reality.
Jack had suffered long enough in this world. He had lost too much, had given up more. Yusei would rather let hell reign over them all before he would let Jack be lost to his own darkness. And that thought pushed him forward—no propelled him forward. He wanted a future where he and Jack could be happy.
