They say that when it rains it pours and June suddenly has felt like that to us^^0Ā
So good news first as to not alarm you! Kickstarter rewards have all been packed and weāve shipped a bunch already so some of you should start receiving your packages soon, and the rest will follow soon after.
So what happened? Well, during the 14 weeks where people were allowed to update their addresses, the rules for postage changed YET AGAIN, so our plan to take a trip to Germany to ship everything was foiled x,D Cue us spending weeks emailing curriers and checking prices and options and weāre happy to say we found something thatās working, but boy that sure was stressful, but thatās not even the biggest hurdle we hit this month.
Steam removed Arcadia Fallen II from their store!
Yesterday, Steam Support told us they would remove the Steam Cloud category from Arcadia Fallen II because some players on Linux had reported an issue that we haven't been able to recreate or solve.
While doing so, they somehow managed to remove the "visible" tag from our store page as well, which means the store page is now gone, though you can still see the game's community hub, its DLC, and many other sub pages. But the page itself and the ability to buy the game has disappeared.
We've done everything we could to reach Steam Support, but they have this tendency to put you back in the queue when they think they are done with an issue, and we have no way of escalating the severity of our report ticket, so given their usual track record this might take days to be fixed.
What hurts us more is that this is doing the Summer Sale, one of the most important times of the year for an indie game. We also have no idea how this will affect future sales, as the Steam algorithm will now register a gap in sales and who knows how that's gonna affect things.
In short, we're really not having a great time, we're usually trying to keep our posting lighthearted here, but this is a very scary situation for our team as the sales for Arcadia Fallen II is what is supposed to fund the next game we are working on and Steam is our best selling platform.
We are very fortunate to be able to do this work for a living, and there are many indie games who do not make it, but if we were to fail as a company we would have loved for it to be due to us not making a profitable game, not because a billion dollar company cannot be arsed to pay for their support staff. We're not even mad at the worker who made this error. They are probably severely underpaid and overworked. We're mad that Valve put the staff in a situation where A this kind of mistake could even happen, and B they did not have enough staff on hand to respond quickly when it did.Ā
To sum it up we're sorry for any inconvenience this might have caused anyone who wanted to buy the game, we've already had a few people reach out, and we'll keep you updated on how things progress. For now the game is still up on GOG and Consoles.
This might make shipping parcels a little slower as we are all very affected by the situation (I don't think any of us got any sleep last night^^0) so please bear with us as we navigate this crazy situation.
need to get braces but my (not so) main concern is what color. im stuck on two
1. Black, cause itās probably the safest and it wonāt look too bad, I think, also Baxter Wardā¦
orrr
2. red, but not like bright red, maybe like a maroon, for my beautiful wife Renee Murrayā¦ but also im kinda scared itāll look too noticeable and Iāll look like a big geeky dweeb.
I had a conversation with my friend and im really nervous about getting braces, mostly because i already have glasses and adding braces to it gives me the full nerd combo, but worst of allā¦ MY SENIOR PHOTOS. im gonna be stuck with these things for a year and eight months.
hey!! they've set up an interest check for a renee doll on plush wonderland!! if you're able to put in a deposit so her doll can be produced that would be great!! ššš
Start Date: May 20th, 2026 Current Progress:The doll design for this character has not yet begun. Design will start once 30 deposits are sol
After drawing Renee I realized I'd rather draw 100 Vianca's rather than Renee again because WHAT is that jacket design bro šš anyone could tell I gave up halfway lmao š Had the most fun coloring and rendering the hair though I loveee it
(it's VERY late but I just remembered about this and I HAD to upload it or I'll die)
NEXT VICTIM is definitely Serenity and their pose is definitely gonna be more dynamic (hopefully š) After serenity I'm thinking Baxter but who knows...
hey!! they've set up an interest check for a renee doll on plush wonderland!! if you're able to put in a deposit so her doll can be produced that would be great!! ššš
Start Date: May 20th, 2026 Current Progress:The doll design for this character has not yet begun. Design will start once 30 deposits are sol
A rewrite of Arcadia Fallen II with a new Wildflower in the bouquet.
Part I
GN Reader Insert. New protag. Also on Ao3.
wc: ~3.1k
//
ā--are you even listening to me?ā
Julianās voice snatches your adrift attention, insistent as the autumn wind rattling the windows. His brow is knotted with an anger he didnāt just pick up from you failing to catch the first few words of his sentence. Part of you knows he thinks little of you, anyhow; his rage would be a waste on you.
āSorry.ā Your gaze flicks to his usual necktie, once golden fabric threaded with preciseness now mangled around his neck. His jaw tenses when he catches you looking. You tense. āI wasā¦sorting the herbs the nature class sent earlier today.ā
The midterms-season standard in the Mender ward means preparing for the sick, over-stressed students who will start filtering through by the half-dozen beginning next week. Their health is a lie, though you know better than anyone that liars rarely repent.
While that means less students to tend to, and therefore an emptier ward, it also means more menial prep choresālike sorting out hybridized two leaf clovers from three. Anti-inflammatory potions are quite sensitive, after all.
Julian scoffs, jerking his ruined tie to the side with a tense hand, and mumbling about his selfish cousin and some stupid plant-kid who are buried in detention right now.
āI said: your shift is done. Itās my turn to run the ward now. Return the extra clover on the way out, would you?ā
You glance at the clock. He left you waiting. Youāve already been working nearly forty-five minutes longer than you were supposed to; half of you wants to complain, but the other knows you are here on behalf of begging Tornkvist for extra credit. Beggars and choosers, and all the hackneyed things.
Where was he? Getting his clothes gnawed on, supposedly. A half-formed thought that Regitze did something frivolous again passes through your subconscious.
Your mouth barely opens before Julian is already interrupting it, āI am not taking another step closer to that rotten greenhouse than I have to. I cannot let that flower eat more of my ties!ā
Aā¦flower did that? You find his excuse to be bothersome, a possible exaggeration, even, but some part of you hums with the innate knowledge that nature can be forced into violent things.
The back of your neck prickles.
Sighing, you acquiesce, āFineā¦I can do that.ā
Thereās barely an acknowledgement from Julian when you gather the clover to take your exit, leaving him to stew in his own bitterness of being bested by something that relies on chlorophyll.
The academy is lively during these times in the evening; the dining hall bustles with chatter and fresh-baked sweet rolls, and the library houses the most dedicated academicsāand a few felines too.Ā
There are few souls in the hallways that grant you the luxury of their regard, though thatās something youāve come to expect in the daily ongoings of your life in the academy.
Some mages come into Seven Winds raw and jagged as a geode, born to be buffeted and polished into prisms; some shine with the understanding that they have infinite luster to purge; some are meant to be forever remembered in the headmasterās gallery; some are not you.
Special is a joke whose punchline went stale half a decade ago. Dreams of stitches and sawblades suffocated under your steadfast surrender to being safely standard.
Though, you are breaking the mold right now.
It's rare for those who are not in the nature course to find themselves traveling to the greenhouse, as nature magicās peculiarness is reserved for those select mages it found before the Hunters did. The greenhouse is free of students at the moment, now that classes are done for the day.
You, like the rest of the riff-raff of Seven Winds, stick out in this space like a not-so-green thumb; though, this jewel of the academy, while humid and smelling of dirt, still captivates all with its late autumn sunsets refracting through its glass dome.
Towering with the omnipresence of a magic most delicate and kind, the tree stands with the conviction of its own magnificence. You find it hard to be anything but pitiable when its exceptional confidence swallows you in its shade.
āAh, a visitor! I need but a moment!ā
Currently throwing countless garden tools back into what seems to be a junk bin with a sort of half-frenzied rush, Professor Hyben ensures to give you your proper greetings despite his current situation.
You idle, pinched at the shoulders due to being held by Hybenās congeniality.
The teacherās demeanor has a level of certainty and principle that leaves you timid. You always found that nature magesā undeniable root to their specific magic causes you to skitter away in a coy, little shellāa place you go to often in response to your self-reproach for your feeble jealousy.
Though, Professor Hyben doesnāt deserve to speak to a hermit in hiding, so your knee jerk response sends the voice too-loud out of your mouth, even for the distance between you, āL-Looking for something?ā
Hyben slams the lid down with a huff, the seal clicking to prevent the overflow of mess, and has the humility to look sheepish. āWell, if you should know, just some very special herb scissors I seem to have misplaced,ā he wipes his hands on his plaid suit coat before offering you his full attention, ānow, how can I help you on this fine day? Or, should I say fine evening? Today has slipped by faster than I could catch it.ā
Your jaw clenches when you force a clumsy smile and gesture with the box in your hands. āIām returning the extra clover after sorting,ā you say, thinking the leftover herbs will be turned into mulch or fertilizer. It's why extras always get sent-back, after all. āFrom the mender wardā¦obviouslyā¦ā
He nods, affirmation that he was expecting this delivery, and takes the crate from you, āYes, thank you. While you menders have no medicinal use for the clover that failed to hybridize into the stronger, two-leaf variation, my snapdragon still loves the taste of these leftovers when ground up and sprinkled in its pot.ā
The professor turns to theā¦snapdragon? What a large flowā¦oh Lady Izith what is that thingā
Hyben shakes the box, and the snapdragon growls and flicks its leaves in anticipation; it reminds you of the way you play with Soldier using catnip in the infirmary, oddly enough.
āThe Budolfan snapdragon, a wondrous creature that straddles the line of both plant and spirit, is quite the special thing,ā Professor Hyben says, singing the praises of such an extraordinary piece of nature.
The snapdragonās head, rose red and bright, swings in your direction. While it has no visible eyes, the creature appraises you with a grumble that is hard to associate with something so sprout-like.
It dangles its maw open like itās presenting a gift, and you get a whiff of fresh flowers, alongside a sight of its petal-sharp teeth. You nearly take the moment to book itāinstead, you bashfully flick too-worried eyes over to the teacher to gauge his own expression.
Hyben's interest in this moment illuminates his face. āFascinatingāthe snapdragon seldom releases such a merry scent. Well, you did bring the clover, after allā¦I might say it even likes you!ā
The flower creature snaps its jaw, not unlike a beartrap, in something you canāt necessarily guarantee is agreement. You gulp. Part of you does not want to be liked by such a thing; it looks like this would be a relationship with many occupational hazards.
Professor Hyben sets down the small crate of clover and leans close to the spirit-plant, scratching the scruff on his chin, āThis snapdragon does not enjoy the company of many of my students. Quite the opposite, really.ā
You grimace, āAreā¦you sure that was a sign of, uh, approval?ā Unconsciously, your hand traces the scar line under your sweater, shoulder to sternum and back again, in a self-soothing gesture. āIām no nature mage, but I think it does seem kinda hungryā¦ā
Hyben laughs, āPish-tosh, nonsense! The snapdragon shows all the signs of enjoying your presence. Though, it certainly is a bit surprisingāit usually only finds solace in myself and Kim, your fellow senior. Have you met him before?ā
āUh, no. Not directly, I think.ā
You know who he is, sure. The class sizes here at the academy arenāt necessarily large, being a mage is a rare affliction, after all. The Nature mages usually keep to themselves, but you would have to be ignorant to not have overheard a single rumor about the academyās sole spirit mage student.Ā
āAh, a shame, then. I get the feeling that the two of you would get along. I would introduce you, but, well, heās found himself in detention this evening.ā
The conversation lulls and you take no measure to fill it yourself. Hybenās eyes drift towards the snapdragon, but his attention is on something you cannot see. You pick at your sleeve as he goes diving into his own thoughts. No student in the academy is good at guessing what any of the professors are thinking at any given time, and you are no different.
Youāre about to make your leave when Hyben stares you down again, and if he tries to disguise the perplexed pinch of his brows as he smiles your way, he fails. Something unsettles him, and you wish you could say anything more in this moment, but you donāt.
āYou know,ā he starts, hands sliding into his jacket pockets, rocking on his heels, āI still havenāt yet had the privilege of having you in one of my classes.ā He beams. āThere is still time before your final semester begins to add one of my nature-based electives into your schedule.ā
Ohā¦well, this isnāt the first time Professor Hyben has hinted to you about taking a lesson of his.
During your third year in the academy, you tripped into a conversation with the teacher in question when he appeared in the ward. Hyben made some comments on how you must be new to the academy and he loved to meet future nature mage students before they ended up in his greenhouse.With the subtlety of a piano crashing down the stairsāsometimes the Illusionists get wildāTornkvist corrected him that you were already one of her mending students and had been at the academy for years. You remember Hyben looking stupefied at his own overconfidence; you remember feeling small at your own inability to impress.
The underclassmen laughed at you over that for months.
There are other times, like today, of course, when the professor grins like a boy and extends a verbal olive branch your way. He must still be trying to make it up to you, you guess.
Something in your head is screaming at you. It aches with the cruel knowledge that Mother Nature eats all of her children in the end, even those who run, buzzing so horrifically at the base of your skull that your vision nearly tunnels. A formless hunger swells in your mind, a nameless desire for something you cannot justify.
You decline, āIām sorry, Professor, but I have to redo a couple mender classes or else I wonāt graduate,ā apprehensive and unconvinced by your own apology, you smile with drooping shoulders as the feeling fades, satiated in starvation, ābut thank you for thinking of me.ā
The lines next to his eyes crinkle when Hybenās lips pull upwards; a sigh; a nod; an acceptance. The answer was always the sameāthough he still holds his tongue. If he did not have the courage to say something before, there is little use in saying it now.
āVery well, then. Iād continue my ramblings of the snapdragon if it were timely, though Iām sure you have much better things to do that entertain this old manās musingsā¦like, letās say, studying for midterms?ā
Graciously, Professor Hyben cuts the conversation like a perfectly pruned bonsai. He has things to do, of course, as there is no doubt the staff are just as busy at the tail-end of a semester.
You nod, stepping back to take your leave, āYes, thank you, profāā but are stopped by a frustrated snarl. Jumping in your skin, the snapdragon shoves the snout of its bulb in your direction, leaves flapping a pay attention to me! signal.
Ah, okay, this is new. Soldier practically throws himself at you whenever you step into the wardāyouāve gotten used to finding blue fur clinging to your clothesābut being prepositioned by a plant-spirit thing is, arguably, not the sameā¦right?
You want to do that thing confident people do where they can laugh their way out of a situation, but the breath in your chest is more of a wheeze than a charismatic tool to be used; so, with the skepticism of someone who believes theyāre about to lose a hand, you reach out to the snapdragon.
Light as fairydust, your fingertips skate over its petals: a goodbye. The snapdragon purrs.Ā
The smile pinned to Professor Hybenās face is done with muscle memory instead of emotion, and the pressure between his teeth strains with the effort to keep his chattiness to himself.
You already gave him your answer, and he respects it.
He does, of course he does, butā
Despite your uneasiness with the monstrous plant pressing its bulb into your palm, you look to Hyben for approval. Is this okay? His eyes reflect a kind approval to your question a few beats too late, too distracted by his own attempts to pretend he didnāt see what he just saw, but he gives you no words.
You mustāve done something wrong.
āWell, uh, have a good night.ā
This time, you do not turn around when you leave.
Your skull pounds, nausea boiling over like a pot left abandoned over heat. This is what happens when you ignore what it wants; this is why you donāt go to the greenhouse.
Itās the same reason you avoid walking past the Illusionist dance hall else your steps lose their steadiness and every further step feels like resentment; itās the same reason you never check inside the Tinker workshop else your left arm goes soft and numb as the cold; itās the same reason you never stand in front of the door to the Restricted Section else youā¦youā¦
ā¦you donāt remember. Your chest hurts.
You take the long way back to your room, already losing concentration on anything other than your steps carrying you across the castle. The stately brick walls of Seven Winds watch as you find the secondary hallways that avoid each and every classroom. Youāve been doing this for too long.
Leaden feet carry you back as darkness drips through the windows of castle that has weathered many seasons. Winter approaches with the omen of the cold and loneyāthe midterm season a frosty haze building up along the inside glass when the night is at its coldest.
Your sluggish stride means you avoid clattering into Hannah as she comes tumbling out of the room, arms full of books and stationery. Sheād be swallowed up in paper if she was any shorter, yet sheās left herself enough space for her eyes to peek out over the top.
āOh! Hi there. Perfect timing,ā Hannah says as she bumps the door open wider with her foot, āthe roomās all yours for the evening.ā
ā...ākay. Thanks.ā
Hannahās follow up fizzles out before she can start. She had been waiting for a Prefect work? or a Late night rehearsals again?, or any other sort of quip that sheās heard from you enough times to have it imprinted on her brain.
Youāre roommates, and thatās it. Hannahās spinning eight different kinds of silver plates on any given day, far too busy for an adept social life, and youāre just you.
You keep to yourself, to the menderās ward, toā¦well, that exhausts the list anyone keeps on you, if they bothered to keep one at all. Unlike your roommate, youāre not even a footnote nor reference in these halls, barely even a superscript. Sheās a full page, a chapter, her own storybook in the making. Youāre not friends.
Though, even so, Hannah thought you would say something like you usually doāsomething polite, or sweet, or maybe just small. That would be anything; instead, you gave her close to nothing.
Her glasses reflect in the dimmed light as she tilts her head and looks you over, āAre youā¦feeling alright?ā
You want to peel your skin open and yank out whatever the hell is wrong with you.
āIām fine. Wardās busy, midterm stress.ā You shrug. āYou know how it is.ā
Oh, by the paragons, does she ever. It takes barely any effort for her thoughts to float back to the collection of novels and research on foliage in her arms, and the stress about getting a good grade on her Botany Basics paper floods her full-force.
She nods, āThat I definitely do. I-Iāll be quiet when I come back in later. Goodnight!ā
You and the prefect trade place. The doorlatch barely falls shut behind you before you stagger into the bathroom whilst clawing at the burning Y-scar underneath your clothes. You vomit, and itās barely more than bloody bile.
How many times has this happened recently?
You should write it down. You want to write it down. You donāt.
Shivering, you clean up. The headache subsides after a few sips of water, but you canāt stomach anything more than that.
You change into sleep-comfortable clothes behind the privacy of a locked door, as you always do. Shimmering on your wrist, a too-low number and Rank C shine dully before you tug your sleeve down to cover them up. Oddly enough, your gradeāthe physical embodiment of your failure to meet professorsā expectationsāis the thing youāre most comfortable with on your body.
A cold autumn gale gusts into the room. The chill leaks in, and the mutilated rings of scar tissue around your elbows and knees throb. A couple years back, you stopped looking at them every time you were in front of a mirror; a couple years before that, you cried on bitter winter nights and wondered what you did to deserve them. Now you wish you never knew of them at all.
Hannah mustāve left the window open.
The wind rushes forth, curtains billowing. A nightingale coos a song at your windowsill. Your fingernails, short, square-shaped on the left and long and rounded on the right, bite into the frame as you slam it shut.
You want your story to die.
//
āI heard this one from my father, who heard it from his father long agoā¦Once upon a time, there was a mage at this very academy who dabbled in forbidden magicā¦"
i canāt get you and your art out of my head šš itās so beautiful, do you do commission? (and if so, what type of payment do you use..) im willing to wait if you arenāt taking any comms rn!! šš¼
I do actually!! Iām not taking any at the moment (even though I had planned to start again this week) because I have a horrible art block though, but I do have a wait list if youāre interested š ill be taking this opportunity to post the information about my commissions here too (and to say that I changed my discord name!! Itās fungry_ now)
Thank you so much for liking my art!! Iām so happy Iām able to share my love for Renee with other fans of her, she deserves all the love she can get, specially since weāre not getting a dlc about her anymore š I hope I can continue to deliver art of her!! And Baxter too ig because I like him too.
i canāt get you and your art out of my head šš itās so beautiful, do you do commission? (and if so, what type of payment do you use..) im willing to wait if you arenāt taking any comms rn!! šš¼
I do actually!! Iām not taking any at the moment (even though I had planned to start again this week) because I have a horrible art block though, but I do have a wait list if youāre interested š ill be taking this opportunity to post the information about my commissions here too (and to say that I changed my discord name!! Itās fungry_ now)
Thank you so much for liking my art!! Iām so happy Iām able to share my love for Renee with other fans of her, she deserves all the love she can get, specially since weāre not getting a dlc about her anymore š I hope I can continue to deliver art of her!! And Baxter too ig because I like him too.
āmom iām so hungry i could eat a november 26 - december 25 post volume 1 sorcerer hype ao3 excess you took my heart (i was sleeping) eye for an eye scary my god youāre divine itās you babe iād let the world burn el is mikeās tammy miwi flashback rowill elmike brush of the knee brush of the elbow shared looks the snowball will turn into an avalanche mwtfdydgate power of gay love saving lives robin speech inspiring thousands to make out to date ppl converting from mileven hopecore youtube video essay peak christmas time byler eraā
stormborns
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
pixelskylines
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
