Hi everybody! Long time no talk! Iāve been super busy making stuff, and unveiled some of my art on TikTok, so I figured it would only be right to bring it here to tumblr! If youāre interesting in knowing what my book is about, I will leave a little blurb for you! Anyways, I am SO excited to finally be sharing some things with you all!!!! We are getting so much closer to release and I can barely breathe!!!
12-year-old Florence Andrews has always felt aloneāeven before her mother died a horribly tragic death.
On the one-year-anniversary of her motherās death, a mysterious lightning storm rattles the gates of Sacred Souls Cemetery and sucks Florence into another dimension called Castalia.
When Florence wakes in this new and unfamiliar world, she is taken in by a monstrous showman named Melvin Darke, who is the manager of a magical place called The Marigold Theater. She quickly learns that Castalia is a place where all the folklore in her books is very real.
Everything feels like a wonderful dream until Melvin is cursed by a mysterious captor in the shadows. In an instant, Florenceās relief in living in a fantasy world and escaping her prior dreadful life with her alcoholic father is shattered into pieces.
Melvinās fate now hangs by a thread, and itās all in Florenceās hands.
Can Florence save Melvin from a fate worse than her motherās? Or will she fail a second time?
The clock is ticking, the pendulum is swinging, and the show is just about to begin.
(This is an unofficial blurb btw. The editor and I are still working on it currently, but this gets the point across for now!)
Anxiety can feel like two things for me. Either my chest is on fire, or I have the beast in the upper right tearing itself out of my chest. I am both things on different days, or often start as one and become the other.
I feel that before tears can even happen, my anxiety always begins as anger or agitation. Iāve been wanting to draw how it feels for quite awhile, so I did!
wanted to draw something based on some recent Minecraft adventures, since I got a skeleton horse that I love so, so much and I feel like Antony would too š my friend made a typo when naming the horse, so his name is Totilla and it's so silly, I couldn't ever change it xD
@pixlokita helped out by drawing Totilla (also gave me some guides for the wings and hands lol) because I have no idea how to draw horses OR skeletons haha! he turned out SO cute I love Pix's Creachure Artā¢ so much :'D thanks for collaborating with me, my friend <3 it was so much fun as always ;u;;
-also on deviantart-
(Minecraft screenshot under the cut!)
here he is, my weird horse whom I love and cherish <3
(just felt like messing around in a non-canon setting with the concept of Antony being able to regenerate limbs, since it's an interesting concept but not something that ever happens within HIWYA. RIP my boy tho š)
I apologize, but I canāt do requests. I unfortunately do not have the time at this current point in my life. Thank you so much for the ask though, Iām glad you like my art! Hopefully when things slow down for me after my book release, I can open them up.
I made a creepy book trailer. Yes, that is me in a terrible wig. Youāre welcome. THE LUSTER OF LIFE will be out in October. Get hype!! If you like adoption stories, monster dads, the theatre host character trope, theatre, folklore, and general spookiness, I got you!
Alright alright alright, one person twisted my arm and said virus Caine whump. And more importantly, I said YES. Unfortunately, I do think there will be more. Ok bye
Alright alright alright, one person twisted my arm and said virus Caine whump. And more importantly, I said YES. Unfortunately, I do think there will be more. Ok bye
I have this urge to write about Caine experiencing very strong human experiences (lifeās horrors, and severe emotions), through someoneās memories. Like you know when Caine put his hands on Jaxās face and explained stuff into his mind directly? Something like that, but Caine touching someoneās face and then having the biggest epiphany of human emotion heās ever experienced since his creation.
Iām just saying. I think. It would be fun. Andā¦I might have a few ideas.
Rating: G
Word Count: 2,793
Content Tags: Alternate Universe, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Supernatural Elements, Paranormal, Angst and Feels
Summary: Khalan is woken up in the middle of the night by the presence of a ghost that's been lingering within the safehouse for some time, so he brings up his concerns about it to 47. This ghost, however, seems to have a much deeper connection to 47 than Khalan initially expected.
Yet another quiet and somber scene between Khalan and 47 set in my Hitman Freelancer AU. This piece was written with a focus on Khalan's ability to interact with the spirit world, so it's mostly centered on his perspective. Again, 47 takes on a guardian/caretaker role in this AU, and that's hinted at a bit here, as well.
Big thanks to my sister (@sara-plutonium) and my friend Mar (@baskervilleshound) for helping me out with this one in your own ways! love u guys ;u;
(also on AO3 and deviantart)
āāā
There it was again ā that faint imprint of a wandering spirit, lingering in the foyer for just a moment before vanishing up the stairs.
Khalan sat up, heart pounding in his chest. He craned his neck to peer over the back of the couch he was sleeping on in order to survey the base of the staircase near the front door. Long shadows stretched across the foyer and spilled into the staircase, cast by a small, shoji-style lantern that sat on a decorative table at the entrance. Those dark corners only served to heighten the sense of unease that Khalan felt in his heart.
The idea of the safehouse being haunted was something that he didn't want to confront, but unfortunately it was becoming clearer with each passing day that, eventually, he would have to.
But something was different about this haunting. Sure, it was scary to think that a ghost was loitering about (and with 47's line of work, it made a lot of sense), but this spirit had an air of melancholy about it that twisted and pulled at Khalan in a way that deeply bothered him.
It was protective, but not malicious. Clearly it had some deep connection to 47. Khalan noticed that it had a tendency to follow the man throughout the house, standing guard near his bedroom at night.
Up until this point, the boy had been too afraid to bring it up, but maybe now was the time to face his fear and get some answers.
Quietly, he folded back his blankets and got up from the cushy leather couch. His gaze stayed locked onto the stairs as he timidly made his way into the foyer and stood at the base of the steps.
Drawing in a deep breath to steady his nerves, he slowly exhaled and ascended the stairs.
A chill washed over him once he reached the second floor. Goosebumps pricked at his arms and he instinctively hugged himself tight. He could hear his own pulse in his ears at this point.
Whoever haunted this place was right there in the hallway, guarding the door to 47's bedroom yet again. Although Khalan couldn't see anything ā no phantasmal form, no vague, smoky image ā he could feel the ghost's presence clear as day.
"You've been around here for a while," Khalan whispered. The quiver in his voice gave away just how nervous he was to be acknowledging the spirit out loud. "IāI don't know who you are, but I get the feeling that you're important to Mr. 47."
He attempted to swallow back the fear that sat as a lump in his throat.
"Are you... are you trying to protect him?"
Something shifted in the air. A deep sorrow suddenly filled Khalan's heart. The boy drew in a small, sharp gasp at the sensation.
He could feel eyes on him, but it wasn't intimidating. That invisible gaze held such a profound longing and pain within it that Khalan couldn't fully comprehend.
Whoever this was, they were hurting. They cared very deeply about something.
And it seemed like that 'something' was 47.
"I'm sorry," Khalan mumbled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I know you're sad, but I don't know how to help you." He grasped at his shirt collar, fidgeting with the fabric as he always did when he wasn't sure what else to do with his hands.
Although he didn't get a verbal response from the ghost (nor did he expect anything of the sort), a supernatural knowledge nestled itself into his heart, telling him that this person didn't expect him to fix anything. The sensation was kind. Understanding. Khalan wasn't used to being offered that kind of grace.
"Maybe... Mr. 47 will know how to help," he hastily suggested in reply. The idea of leaving this spirit in such a miserable state was something that Khalan couldn't bring himself to accept. "I've wanted to ask him about you, anyway. Isāis that okay?"
Yes it was. The boy felt the ghostly being move away from the door just enough to let him know that he was granted permission to approach. It seemed that he was in good graces with this ethereal sentinel, which brought a bit of relief to Khalan's heart.
With a tiny bow and a small "thank you," he stepped closer, approaching both the door and the spirit that stood by it. As he carefully opened the door, he felt that unseen presence phase through the wall, entering the room before he had a chance to, himself.
His heart climbed into his throat once he caught a glimpse of 47's sleeping figure. The reality of having to wake this man in the middle of the night sent a sudden spike of fear through his veins. Was that stepping out of line? Would that make him mad?
Unfortunately, Khalan didn't have a chance to back out even if he wanted to. With his inhuman sense of perception, 47 stirred almost immediately. Those piercing eyes of his penetrated the darkness of the room and locked onto Khalan as he sat up on his elbows, now fully awake.
"Is something wrong?"
It was difficult for Khalan to gauge the emotion behind 47's tone. Although he had grown to expect such a thing, it still made him terribly anxious nonetheless.
"I... ahā" the words stuck in his throat, refusing to be spoken aloud. He wasn't even sure how to approach such an uncomfortable and strange topic now that he was forced to confront it. Did 47 even believe in ghosts? What if this was just a waste of time, and Khalan would have to go back to bed without any answers? What then?
47 reached over to the nightstand and turned on the small lamp beside the bed, bathing the room in a soft warm glow. Without saying a word, he sat up straighter; shifting over slightly and making room for Khalan to sit beside him.
After a moment of hesitation, the boy climbed onto the luxurious king-sized bed and tried to make himself comfortable.
"Another nightmare?" 47 asked. Khalan shook his head. His nerves were now starting to get the better of him.
It was hard to speak up, but the longer he put it off, the worse he felt. Maybe it was best to just get it over with. Say the difficult thing out loud, deal with the consequences later. The worst that could happen was that bringing it up would make 47 upset. The best outcome would be that Khalan could finally learn enough about who the ghost was to potentially help it rest in peace.
And he really hoped that it would be the latter.
"Um... do you believe in ghosts?" he finally ventured, twisting the silken sheets between his nervous hands. The softness of the fabric was a comforting and grounding sensation, something he tried to focus on while he anxiously waited for a reply.
The question hung in the air for an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually, 47 gave a response.
"Yes. Why?"
Simple. Precise. Yet Khalan couldn't help but pick up on the faintest air of uncertainty in the question posed, as if this brought 47 some cause for alarm.
The boy's gaze swept across the room, searching for any sign of the spirit's presence. He knew it was still there, somewhere, but he had briefly lost track of it when his anxiety kicked in.
"There's someone here," he quietly spoke. 47's posture stiffened at the ominous words, but Khalan was quick to try and quell any concerns before the man could go on the defensive.
"No, no. It's okay ā it's someone you know. Or... used to know, I mean."
47 slowly relaxed, a heaviness settling into the room as realization seemingly dawned on him. Khalan finally managed to force himself to look up at 47 in hopes of trying to understand how this information made him feel.
There wasn't much of an expression on the man's face, though that was unsurprising. But even through that blank faƧade, something had shifted in his eyes. It was almost invisible and untraceable... but it was still just enough for Khalan to take notice.
A flicker of grief and heartache flashed in his gaze. It surfaced in the faint crease of his brow, the slight twitch of his eye.
"What makes you say that?"
His tone had changed. It was softer. Quieter. That distinctive feeling of sorrow that Khalan experienced earlier from the ghost had settled back into his chest yet again.
"It's been watching over you," the boy answered, solemnly. "I think whoever it is misses you a lot. Wants you to be safe."
47 turned his head, away from Khalan. He didn't say anything in reply. Instead, silence filled in the space between them.
Pressing his lips together in uncertainty, Khalan continued to twist and tug at the blanket in his hands. If 47 wasn't going to say anything else, then he would just have to ask the burning question that had been on his mind for some time now and simply hope that he would get an answer.
"AhāCan... can I ask who it is?"
It almost felt like a forbidden question; one he never should have asked. But it had been bothering him for so long, he couldn't help it at this point.
And whether or not 47 was willing to answer was up to fate, now.
Khalan waited on baited breath, unsure if he had crossed a line. He intensely studied what little he could still see of 47's face in an attempt to glean any additional knowledge of his mental state. But at this angle, it was nearly impossible to see much of anything.
Yet to his surprise, after about two excruciatingly long minutes of silence, 47 finally gave him the answer he was seeking.
"My brother. Lucas." he said gently. The weight of such a simple sentence was heavy. 47's inability to look at Khalan made it clear to the boy that this was difficult for him to admit. "I don't know who else it could be."
Khalan felt his heart sink at the words. He bit his lip and turned his attention back to the soft sheets in his hands. Their silken texture shimmered in the dim light of the nearby lamp.
"Ah."
His mouth had gone dry. That horrible sensation of grief ate away at him yet again, threatening to surface in the form of tears.
"I'm sorry," he eventually managed to say with some effort.
Nothing was said between them after that. Khalan gripped the blanket tight, fighting back a heavy wave of emotion. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to 47's brother ā his mind wandering into horrible, dark places filled with violence and death. Clearly, whatever had taken place was painful for 47 to recall. The concept alone broke Khalan's fragile heart.
Without warning, a few stray tears finally spilled from the boy's eyes. He quickly tried to catch them before they landed on the sheets in his lap, but once those first tears slipped out, they were near impossible to stop.
The lingering pain that emanated from Lucas's spirit was overwhelming. Khalan felt his heart twisting and clenching as grief enveloped the room. It hurt. Everything hurt.
"Why does this bother you?" 47's voice was still just as quiet as ever. The question he posed seemed to be of genuine confusion. "You never met him."
Khalan sniffled, trying desperately to keep himself from openly sobbing at this point. He reached up to grasp at his shirt collar in an attempt to calm himself down.
A moment or two passed where Khalan did not respond. He couldn't even look at 47 as he struggled to make sense of his own feelings. Why did this bother him? Why did it hurt so much, even though he never knew Lucas to begin with?
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice choked with pain. "It just... hurts. I don't know."
Silence settled in the space between them yet again. For several long minutes, the two didn't exchange any more words. The seconds ticked by with Khalan's soft crying being the only sound that filled the room. 47 didn't make much of an attempt to comfort him, though he did offer a few tissues for the boy to wipe his tears.
Khalan wasn't sure how to feel about all of this, or what he had been expecting the outcome to be in the first place. Maybe he hoped that by bringing it up, Lucas could feel recognized and appreciated, and the two brothers could find peace? But things didn't seem that simple. Was there anything that could be done?
The preteen's brows furrowed as he mulled this over. Perhaps... it wasn't up to him to decide. This was deeply personal to 47 ā something that he would have to deal with in his own way. Khalan couldn't do much about that.
Now that he had calmed down some, he decided to speak up once more.
"What are you going to do?" he softly asked.
47's head tilted in his direction, but his eyes never met with Khalan's inquisitive gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"AhāAbout your brother's ghost, I mean." Khalan felt his face growing hot with shame over being so direct. "He's not... resting in peace."
He caught himself absentmindedly scratching at the sheets under his fingertips as he spoke. To his relief, his claws hadn't been extended and the simple action left no trace on the expensive bedding, but he still chose to move his hands under the covers and clasped them tight to try and avoid causing any damage.
"I don't know how to help him," he continued. "Andāand I don't think I can. So I thought that maybe... it was up to you to figure out instead."
A barely-audible sigh left 47's lips. Khalan carefully scrutinized every little crease and wrinkle that made up the man's perfectly-sculpted face, desperately trying to intuit what 47 was feeling. Those faint microexpressions that subtly tugged at the muscles in his face were almost entirely undetectable, but Khalan noticed.
Though just because he noticed didn't mean he understood. The complex emotion that sat in 47's eyes was still one that felt far too unknowable for Khalan ā a deep, mature kind of feeling that a child of his age couldn't quite parse.
It was at this point that 47 chose to break the heavy silence.
"I see."
Those two words were spoken with a heaviness to them that could almost be seen weighing down on the man's shoulders. Khalan shifted uncomfortably, tearing his gaze away from 47.
"I'm sorry," he apologized for what felt like the millionth time that night. "This is probably really hard for you."
47 turned to face him. This time, Khalan could very clearly feel the man's eyes on him, but he chose to keep his head down to avoid meeting that stare. It only lasted for a brief moment, however. 47 turned away again not too long after.
"I've avoided this for some time." The man's tone was deep and laden with grief. "But maybe it's time I finally confront it. Put him to rest."
Khalan flinched as a large hand tenderly rested atop his head. The action was surprising and a bit strange, but once he realized that he wasn't in danger and the quick rush of panic subsided, Khalan found himself almost melting at the simple touch.
"You don't have to do anything," 47 assured him. "I'll work this out on my own."
His expression softened, and he gave the boy's head a small, gentle pat.
"It's late, though. You should get some sleep."
Khalan didn't protest. In truth, he was horribly fatigued after the cry he just had, and there didn't seem to be anything else he could do about the situation anyway. Obediently, he got out of bed and made his way over to the door, but paused just before leaving the room.
"Sorry for disturbing you like that," he whispered, lingering by the doorframe. "Youā Ah... you'll be okay, right?"
Though it was clear that 47 was still rightfully troubled in his own quiet way, he gave a small nod of reassurance.
"Don't worry about me. I'll be alright. You can go back to sleep now."
Khalanās eyelids drooped and his mouth opened wide in a yawn, as though 47ās words reminded his body of the exhaustion that overwhelmed it. As he made his way back through the hall and down the shadowy staircase, he gradually came to terms with the fact that he had done all he could to help the brothers. The rest was now in 47's capable hands.
a silly little thing based on some RP discussions between @baskervilleshound and myself xD
we were talking about a scene in RP where the wind was really strong, and I joked that Khalan would simply just... blow away if he went outside. but then Mar said "it's okay, Mel would just catch him in his baseball mitt and say he's Too Baby to be outside" and the absurdity of that concept made me laugh so I had to draw it, haha!
Melvin Darke belongs to @baskervilleshound.
-also on deviantart-
small RP sketch!! been experimenting with the idea that in a separate RP universe, Khalan is able to fully tap into his bakeneko side and shapeshift into a cat due to some magical shenanigans. Melvin (@baskervilleshound's OC) is the one who encourages Khalan to fully embrace that side of himself, which is super precious imo ;A; <3
anyway! ended up drawing this because 1) the size difference is adorable!!! Khalan is SO tiny in comparison to Mel I can't handle it;; and 2) my heart needed art of these two interacting because it's been soooo long since I last drew some RP art :'0
Melvin Darke belongs to @baskervilleshound.
-also on deviantart-
Honestly Jax was one of my least favorite characters until this last episode. Now I feel like I actually understand him.
I know what itās like to be so afraid of losing someone that you push them away, and also just trying not to feel any semblance of emotion when youāre going through something very traumatic.
It doesnāt make how he treats other people right. Not at all. But heās also very traumatized. And heās just trying to survive. Heās trying to cope with how fucked up The Amazing Digital Circus is. How they can never escape and it just gradually kills people off.
Jax has complicated and repressed grief, and he is in terrible denial. Jax can BE terribleā¦but one thing is certain. Heās terrible because heās hurting. Heās scared out of his mind.
