mike-waitforit-coe - Tumblr blog

mike-waitforit-coe · 2 years ago

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There's always a touching note you wouldn't expect. That's what makes him Data.

I actually… love this

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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There's rainfall by my window rn and this gif with that sound is very soothing.

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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a little more about Spireflex and all the twists to come. The gif has a slow frame rate because I wanted to make sure everyone could read and see it. @overcomplicatedxoxo

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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Nymphae Noucali

Part one

The truth of the matter is that most who stray do not lead revolutions past the known empires. Some however, if they find equilibrium in the vast combinations outward and through, will find a kind of refuge. It may surprise you to think that races known for the diversity and breadth of acceptance that is mother earth can still be cruel. They can be cruel in intervals and in passing gestures or lacktherof. They can be cruel in what is held above what and the smallest of reasons for why. These races, all of a particular strangeness, can ironically be cruel in how they place anomie.

Lilly had all the graceful features of the tree elves. She had their swiftness, cunning, and wisdom. She had the coveted Greek features of sharp beauty in her face, and a soft yet attractively pointed edge at her lips that could find and soothe the mists and shadows of these mysterious realms. She knew not every spell, but she mastered those that she knew to a particular potency, enough to undo the often irresponsible musings others would cast down from their scaling limbs. Such was part of the problem. She spent more time on the ground than her people of the tree. She observed closely and carefully. Lately she even spent time in the lower waters, gossiped oft to be an unclean place.

They called her Panda because of all the time she spent amidst the grass more than the branches, and some took the insult further saying she was too heavy by now to be up there with them anyway. This certainly hurt, and as time went on she spent more and more time down there. In truth it was more studying than hiding. An odd encounter with an Orcan male made her wonder of their origin. The man was hesitant, almost to the point of being warm. Because of this she grew strong doubts to the Elvin tale that they were pigs merely five times feral. His tusks looked more like trembling teeth and his grimace more a slight quivering lip. His skin looked surprisingly smooth, not bumpy or hairy. She had t wonder then, does he somewhere in his line have the gentlemanly demeanor of the tree frogs?

Eventually though Lilly was written off a monster of the realm, the shade and shadow of the bottom was a point of contest for her people. It was no longer about how high they could peer or swing or what rubes they could make of the other creatures in a rube Goldberg of clashing branches, it was about how close they could get to the bottom and still return, which gave the smaller of the bunch a bit of an edge. Yes young Pinecot did in fact reach the bottom and its red grasses, but he would not return without a tale of his own.

He sneaked across to the purple film stream where Lilly stood pensively with hair slightly unkept outside of society because such was not her concern during one of her studies. He still admired the curly flow of it and its natural shimmer, perhaps a bit too much. Pincot yanked a thick healthy strand with one hand and bashed the back of her head with the other. As Lilly lay unconscious and afloat, he climbed back up with his prize. The stream carried her and the strength of her legs with the curves of her hips even in this state helped steer her way from treachery, the small of her back keeping her flat while her thick hair kept her head to the side.

The splashes and laps calmed with the approaching drum of a walking stick as rocks smashed her in and out of consciousness yet her form stayed a steady flow. The blur of existence above her became clearer, it's blurs fighting an unapologetic shadow. The shadow spoke as she climbed ashore. “You find yourself in Purgatory madame, as I believe any tree elf soaked in glorified swamp water would”

“But... But what have I done to land here sir?

“If nothing comes instantly to mind I should doubt you've done much of anything. Your soul and spirit are I suspect bound by the sins cast upon you my dear.” He bites down on a purple thistle, shining one fang “What then would the woodwomen of whichever wonderbouts chuck through their church-lady cheekbones and chipmunk high noses in their catty, cackled, and cuckled cheaply chuckled chatter, hmmm?

A shy smile stretched cross her face, prompting the shadow man to bound a-back in the least stealthy manner imaginable

“Good Lord, don't tell me you've found something here to your LIKING! Ye the people of high nests and noses? My what gross perversion is this..”

A growl ending in whine prompted his sarcasm trail with a laugh, both dog and man-beast hiding their mouths while their eyes scrunched. Forgive me madame, sometimes I jest to sharply at the vain of the matter. I am Carl the Uncounted, and beast's best goes by many names, but you may call her Stripe.��

“I don't know about my mind being too twisted good sir, but it seems I have twisted my ankle.”

Curiosity again sank the teeth of the shadow man. “From where mi'lady?”

Spireflex

His eyes bulged a size larger than jest now

“Tis a wonder you're not shattered to your slender neck from such a height!” “Slender?” she said as if it was surely a mistake

“And THAT'S the part that shocks you? Would it offend your sensibilities to be carried by such new acquaintance as myself? Stripe's mouth is watering, you should be a goodly distance from her teeth.” Stripe again hid her face in embarrassment.

“... Carried where?”

“To the Wiccant, master of what he calls Wiccanthropy. I doubt he will grow you a new leg of the same species, but he should be able to help mend this one.”

“And why sir should I be so close to your teeth?”

Because my dear, my stomach is quite sensitive most mornings. Honestly, when everything is in kettles and pots and roasts the whole bloody world is too harshly seasoned. Come along now before I fry in a noon sun. “ He picked her up steadily and swift. "you're quite light.". Lilly didn't believe this for a second.

"You're probably used to feasting on trolls and Centarions."

"Is this any time to insult my diet? he retorted “Anyway, you do feel a bit different from your kindlets I suppose. They are like mummified jewelry cases. The weight you hold though is I suspect much more evenly and well fitted than you think. You would not swim so well otherwise."She gave this no response. "The man ahead can tell you more." @overcomplicatedxoxo

- by Michael James Coe

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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It always strikes me how green can either be vibrant and welcoming OR sinister and eerie and it just depends on the angle

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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Regarding the Orca piece - really something how you took a traditionally “endearing” animal and gave it a jarring and unsettling presence.

Thank you! Orcas have really strange vibes to me, something benevolent/beautiful and weirdly melancholy/frightening all at once. Ocean mammals in general—sometimes at night I sit and think about how they’re just out there in the ocean, right now, suspended in the pitch-black water. It’s so freaky ahaha

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mike-waitforit-coe · 5 years ago

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