liminalfish

[liminalfish]

Having fun rearranging my pantry with with a fancy labelmaker

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Put baby in pelican mouth poster. For you

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Idea for a small business:

Sullied Sketchbooks

I sell the finest of sketchbooks with a single, terrible doodle on the first page so aspiring artists need not worry about screwing up the whole sketchbook with a bad first drawing.

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Please do not ban TikTok.

One reason being that censorship and increased governmental control is bad, the other being that it is currently designated as the containment zone for all the village idiots of society who should not be allowed to escape elsewhere

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Looks like Beanie has decided I’m done sketching for the evening. See ya once she wakes up, lmao.

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Merry Christmas! Hope it is cute and cozy this year.

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I present: hand!

Working on backgrounds and side characters next.

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Some art about my dog, Beanie.

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Oreorcas 🍪

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I love watching birds fly south for the winter

[liminalfish]

I present: Foot!

Working on the details of my boar/bobcat/whatchacallit. Claws are going to be an important part of the story she features in, so I wanted to make sure I understood how her hands and feet worked before I got too deep into drawing her a certain way. So I’m sulpting my own refs out of Sculpey.

These feet/back paws are mostly based on wild boar, but with elements of ostrich, kangaroo, and human. I picture her species as being descended from an entelodon (aka hell pig) sort of creature, but has since evolved into a more human-like species - capable of standing, walking, and running for long periods, but still very strong for their size.

She’s going to be part of an illustrated story I’m working on - about a doctor working in a world where various dragons and non-humans occupy the same spaces and societies, and how they do and don’t work together.

Next up is hands and names, and then I’m ready to start on some of her patients!

Sources for reference pictures:

Bones: https://www.flickr.com/photos/galleriejc/4340772501/

Entelodont: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entelodon?wprov=sfti1#Paleoecology

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blue footed booby + raptor !

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(Cut to Laios sitting across from Chilchuk, looking befuddled)

FALIN FOUR AND DUNGEON MEAL??

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I was yanked through a dimensional rift to find myself in a perfectly ordinary lab looking at perfectly ordinary people. These people - who had reached out through a tear in the fabric of reality to snag someone from a sister dimension - greeted me with hope and trepidation.

They explained that an indescribable something had torn its way into their world almost a century ago, and every time it attacked it tore away more and more of the fabric that held their universe together.

This had, in turn, granted them access to secrets of the multiverse and unique technology. They had used this knowledge to reach across the gap and into a universe that had suffered only a single attack from the Thing, hoping that meant we had discovered the secret to killing it or sealing it away.

They were right - someone in my universe had encountered the Thing and banished it a century ago. But as it turns out a one-off genuine encounter with the supernatural is more of a historical footnote than anything, akin to accounts of alien abductions or ghost sightings. I’d barely even heard of the Thing, and any insight into its workings or how to defeat it was completely lost on me.

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The Fat Gardener perches on a high stone wall in the courtyard across from me. A bucket dangles from one of his hands, a long-handled pruning hook from the other. I fail to notice him at first, distracted by the strange, pale trees of the Inner Courtyard, until he starts idly swinging his feet. His bare heels strike the ivy-covered wall with dull, faint thuds. I glance up and lock eyes with with him, momentarily frozen by the sharpness of his gaze and the almost white color of his irises.

“Hallo-a!” He calls down, raising the pruning hook in greeting. I raise my own hand in reply, then glance around in confusion before greeting him in turn.

“Hi there! Where are we? I could swear the room I came from was underground.”

He chuckles. “Sounds about right. This is the Inner Courtyard. It’s not really a place at all, it’s just a metaphor your mind made up to work through some things.”

“That’s uhh… startlingly honest,” I say, taking the whole place in. The walls are white stone, worn and covered in ivy. Stone arches lead away to other places, other times. The only vegetation is soft grass and the pale gray trees swaying in the wind, their branches naked of leaves but full of fruit. Above us, a brilliant blue sky holds soft, puffy clouds and gentle breezes. It’s peaceful here. I just stepped out of a nightmare, a bad one, and can’t quite shake the feeling of dread, but I feel it fading as time passes.

The Fat Gardener hops off the wall and into the branches of the nearest tree. He’s surprisingly nimble for his size, and seems equally at home among the branches as he does on the ground. He uses his pruning hook to pull down one of the branches for me, bringing the fruit closer. It’s smooth and brown, almost pear-shaped but not quite.

I reach up to hold the fruit, and find it’s cold and metallic. I’m startled to find it has a catch and a hinge, and pop it open to reveal a locket. On one side is a photo of an older couple I don’t know, and the other bears their names in a language I can’t read.

“Who are these people?” I ask the Fat Gardener.

“You don’t know them. This isn’t your tree.” He responds. I close the locket and release it. He lets the branch spring back up and we watch it sway into place for a moment. The tree is tall, at least 5 stories, and its branches cover an area the size of my house.

“Why am I here then?” I ask.

“You know,” he responds. I do and I don’t.

“Is my tree sick?” I ask.

“Do you water it often and trim the bad branches?” He asks.

“No.”

“Then yes.”

“Can I see it?” I ask.

“You’re the one in charge here.”

He has a keen look on his face, and I have the uncomfortable realization that part of my intellect, some inscrutable piece of me, is examing the rest of myself with the cold, hard eyes of the Fat Gardener. I don’t think he likes what he sees.

“I think I’d better go,” I say, “there’s more to see, isn’t there?”

He doesn’t respond. I leave through one of the other arches.

—-

This dream is old. It made me make some changes. I’m glad I had it.

[liminalfish]

I was handed a long tube of jeans material, slightly tapered at both ends.

“The hell is this?” I asked, rolling it up between my hands.

“I believe it’s a single pant,” my boyfriend replied.

“A single… pant?” I reply.

“Yeah, I guess since pants are plural, this is what a single pant looks like.”

“But, like, how would I wear it?” I say, comparing one tapered end to my thigh. “It’s too narrow.” I flip it around and compare the middle, which looks about right.

“I think it’s like a stick. You break a stick in half, you get two sticks. You cut a pant in half, you get a pair of pants.”