#I have not seen even ONE piece of furry art of them as pigs and this is a tragedy

[sepal-sea]

"harry is a dog and kim is a cat haha" WRONG they are both PIGS

[polythremed]

wheres the essay op i want whitsun bugs

there might not have been an essay before, but there is now! bugs and inverts are hugely overlooked. however, the victorians loved insects! they were huge inspirations in art, shells were used in fashion, so what would be more vogue than a giant bug for a pet?

(Punch, September 29, 1877)

the bulk of this talk will be under the cut but tl;dr is that arachnids still offer a lot of potential, beetles and moths live in the neath and were popular at the time, and there are a lot of lesser-known bugs that fit fallen london

also cw for bug images because there’s a lot of them beyond here, this is for people with good taste only

firstly: arachnids

FL has a lot of arachnids and this year’s whitsun saw the introduction of a squirrel with a scorpion tail! i think it’s a fun design personally, but arachnid companions are Not obsolete. the most relevant arachnids are crabs, and crabs are more varied than you might think!

(image by abc.net.au)

the yeti crab was the first crab to come to mind, related to hermit crabs and living in hydrothermal vents in the deep ocean. it means we’ve got another underground beast, and could you imagine this as a spired crab? it could be the product of shapeling arts, and the yeti crab’s famously hairy arms have the potential to be used as arm warmers or 1890s uggs for the discerning londoner!

there’s also the japanese giant spider crab, which might be more lanky than it’s neathy angler crab cousins, but look at those legs! how big do you think it is? how about taller than the average person?

you have to understand how badly i want to be this man they also inhabit vents near the bottom of the ocean (the crabs, not this man), they’re omnivores and one specimen’s measured in at 3.8 metres (12ft) across its outstretched legs! it’d probably be a dreaded companion by the sheer size of it, but imagine the walking sticks you could get from those legs

arrowhead crabs and horseshoe crabs are also runners up for this!

mites also came to mind, being small arachnids- the mite above is an adult female tea mite, and not much is known about mites! they’re primitive but have a terrible reputation, and FBG have shone the spotlight on other unloved creatures in the past. there’s also Caveat Emptor which tells us that the bazaar has parasites which are probably like mites? you could have your own romance vampire, surely nothing could go wrong

and if you’ve come here for spiders, how about the pelican spider? with a pelican-like head, pelican spiders prey exclusively on other spiders! isn’t that a fun way to counter sorrow spider infestations? introducing new species is a good thing, right?

higher tiers of this companion could start to own the whole pelican thing. i’ve seen monster designs of spiders with human heads but never a spider with a pelican head!

(image by me)

all he needs is some love and spiders

close arachnid contenders that i want to mention before this whole post is made up of eight-legged companions: camel spiders, harvestmen, and whip scorpions!

secondly: beetles

as john b. s. haldane once said, “god has an inordinate fondness for beetles”. and he’s right because there are more known species of beetle than types of mammal

in fact, the victorians fucking loved beetles (and butterflies but we’ll get to that)

we have phosphorescent scarabs as luminosity items and a few mentions of beetles in airs texts and in sunless sea, the latter where a beetle has been eating through your ship’s supplies. being from england, i have a vague idea of what sort of beetles would end up in london!

there are still stag beetles, rove beetles, and even cardinal beetles, but these by themselves might feel pretty basic. they’d be good t1 companions, but why not have a companion that’s a whole insect keeping setup? there’s even some colourful beauties like the scarlet malachite beetle which are now incredibly endangered

but if you want something Huge and Large and easily convertible into a fashion accessory, hercules beetles have a lot of potential! horns that can be used for knives in dockside brawls, or you could take most of the bug features and place them on a furry animal like a guinea pig since seas already gave us the guinea page

these beetles could also add diversity for the phosphorescent scarabs- and speaking of phosphorescent beetles, why not look to fireflies? they aren’t fire and nor are they flies, but to carry on with FBG’s habit of “slapping animals together to see what happens”, you could easily make something with the features of a firefly larvae

or you could take the even more interesting approach of having a grub the size of a cat, for example. hercules beetles have some of the largest larvae and the feast of the rose gave us maggots, so why not have one of these babies but the size of a cat? and glowing? they’re a possible light source that might make you more bizarre or respectable

a close runner up that i wanted to mention was diving beetles and how freaky they can get if they’ve adapted to the zee but the sabretooth longhorn beetle is going to close this segment as an embodiment of a dangerous and respectable companion- it already looks like it’s been carved out of wood! i think a carved polythreme beetle would be incredible

(see also: bombardier beetles, weevils, oil beetles, tiger beetles, harlequin beetles, trilobite beetles, and giraffe weevils!)

moths, and less commonly found underground, butterflies

another love of the victorians: butterflies!

butterflies are basically moths by a different name (there are way more moths than butterflies) and we do have canon dreams where a frostmoth the size of your head appears in your window, and wouldn’t that be useful for hunting in parabola? much like the beetles, there’s a lot of diversity that can be explored especially if we add shapeling arts

white plume moths are also found in the UK and just look at those wings

we can have a usual approach of adding the wings to something else, like a particularly unlucky bat, or just have something bizarre with the moth itself! more eyes? more eyes has been a common theme lately, or you can combine an insect with an arachnid and give it whip scorpion hands

these wings would be one hell of a decoration because white plume moths are considered to be micromoths

on the other end of the spectrum and taking the role of a respectable companion, the white witch moth is considered to be one of the largest insects on earth because of its wingspan! maybe they’re a more risky cousin of the frostmoth, maybe you could turn the markings on these wings into shifting sigils? don’t set your moths on fire

(image by Acrocynus)

white witch moths themselves have a lot of diversity while cup moths are another contender for an animal you could combine with another animal

(image by itchydogimages)

why not add the tail of a squirrel to this one? or a scorpion’s tail? a lion? with enough of these, you could end up with a very striking tawny coat. this thing is the embodiment of being neathproofed. even if they’re opposites of frostmoths and are associated with embers because of it, or if the tail is closer to being a candle!

moths are also good at mimicking in order to defend themselves, which is why you see so many moths and butterflies with eye patterns on their wings. birds hate eyes so much so there’s room for some real eyes on your brand new butterfly or moth companion

but some moths also mimic snakes, so for any fingerking fans out there: behold the atlas moth

this is such a mithridacy companion. can you imagine the t3 version of this where the snake heads are alive? we have a two-headed terror bird, so why not snakes on a moth? there’s even jokes to be made about one head telling truths and another telling lies, maybe the only head that could tell you the difference is the moths!

for butterflies themselves, we have butterflies that drink the tears of alligators and tortoises- so melancholy butterflies that only appear to feed on lacre? (and they might not be butterflies down here, you might’ve already mistaken a day-flying moth for a butterfly, not that the difference matters for much in the neath)

another strong mention is vampire moths if we’re carrying on the theme of insects drinking odd things, but a vampire moth with bat wings could be wonderful at ruining the lives of taxonomists

luna moths are also massive and could be more fitting now that we know who the creditor is, and that whitsun is talking so much about the bazaar and the masters

other lesser-known but interesting insects

we don’t entirely need to cover bees and wasps but it would be nice to have a piece of media showing wasps in a way that doesn’t present them as evil, but wasps could wait until hell is really significant again since wasps and bees are incredibly cool cousins. and thread waisted wasps!

(image by Bev Wigney)

get a load of that! these don’t even have the ability to sting humans, what would a thread waisted wasp-themed spindlewolf look like? how much shadowy with something with these colours give you? imagine the corsets inspired by these things

assassin bugs are another dangerous option considering how good they are at hunting other insects, and the neath wouldn’t be complete without more creatures that burrow underground and can find themselves in this weird cavern

(image by Fir0002)

their forearms are specifically developed to dig! perhaps they can dig through a rival’s belongings, or perhaps you can fashion their claws into brass knuckles or a belt buckle?

(image by faraaz abdool)

another fashionable, lesser-known invert is the velvet worm! we have plenty of slugs in fallen london, but you know what they’re lacking? legs

about 200 species of velvet worms have been described and they’re already quite rare! they all fall under the onychophora name and there isn’t anything else like them. you could easily have some persuasive with this, or if you turn it into a stole that can hold however many hands you want!

(image by docj96)

also, thrips! i found out about these today and apparently you’re likely to hear about them if you’re into gardening. sometimes they have crab claws for forelegs, so hey- more bazaar similarities! they have an interesting method of flight (clapping their wings together) but this might not bee too impactful unless you want a novel way to raise your investigating

flies are also criminally underrated, but i couldn’t tell you how many flies live in fallen london. stalk-eyed flies, however, are gorgeous things that would work so well as t2 companions! you could even go all out with a horsefly taking on attributes of an actual horse

(image by minden pictures)

the stalk eyed fly sees you five minutes before you can see it

there are genuinely so many more that come to mind (even neathy types of mantis- orchid mantids that have adapted to blend in with mushrooms! imagine!) but a good way to finish this off is with a love story

there are centipedes who will guard and hold their young close to them! giant centipedes are protective mothers and you can get hundreds of companions in one- or perhaps just one companion who really misses her hundreds of kids. and they hold their eggs just as carefully whilst waiting for them to hatch!

isn’t that a good love story? there’s a lot you can combine this with, but i’ve spent most of today writing this one! do with these creatures what you will, i definitely enjoyed talking about neathy possibilities for insects!

(bogleech also has a fantastic article on insects that should be used as the basis for pokemon designs, if you want even more out there bugs be sure to look here)

[noxyfied]

This, is Noxy/Noxyfied/Nox. This is the character I identify as online, and I want to tell you my story with this adorable Arctic Fox because it is one heck of a tale from not so long ago

Things did begin rough at the beginning of my persona’s history. I honestly can’t recall how I came up with it, only how I inserted my love for something and went with it.

From the early years of 2017 to 2019 I was all paper and pencil. Ah yes traditional art was my big thing for a couple of years during that era of 2013 to 2020. I had a time where I wrote stories about characters I made, and not much. No fan art, no nothing, I wanted to stick to my own original ideas at first before I took the step to do something that I did not own; it was a weird mindset I know, I couldn’t hold myself to want to be original and develop to be good enough to draw other things.

It took me some time to develop, hell even to this day I still am unsure of my own skills but I enjoyed trying new things. I don’t reject much criticism even if it comes harsh it still lingers in my head when received anyway. I needed someone to identify as online, a persona who I would have an identity through as I was moving forward on this hopeful career I want to make with my art.

Idea #1 draw my own self accurate to how I look 

Scratch that...

Nononono, I am too bad at showing my face, even at that I don’t like myself.

So I had to come up with something else, 2019 was ending with my skills rising up to something neat. I had Fire alpaca and a wacom cheap tablet which I used time to time back then, and with how I moved foward I said “why not, lets draw a glaceon.

Not bad, not bad. I do enjoy anthropomorphic animals, and for a anthro Glaceon it wasn't so bad. Even back then I did not enjoy much of this picture but the idea sparked. I did roleplay around online a lot as a Glaceon. People always had referred to me as a Glaceon when talking, because furry friends tend to be like that and I don’t mind. It had definitely sparked the idea of identifying as one for my persona.

I had a hard time how I would draw this character, a more personalized Glaceon with my own flare of the art style I carry should be nice, should I make it tall? short? anthro? feral? the questions rose up. Even more as time passed, took some time unsure of it, Unluckily I had a Glaceon FURsona, not a persona. (Yes those were two separate things as I carried 7 fursonas as individual characters in their own stories).

But soon one day in class, my artsy self was bored and it just sparked.

This is it! yes! I love it! something about this just clicked for some reason, it was like nothing I had seen before I could not look away at it, this was it.

After class I went home and played some games. The idea was there but man am I tired. Things did go slow, but not for long as of January, the classes I took gave me the ability to better understand this Adobe Photoshop, an amazing tool for editing pictures but also... To draw?!? I have heard of using Photoshop to draw but was amazed to have the ability using such program. During my time 2019 I would doodle around on Photoshop in my school or at home (thanks to the campus giving me a cheaper prize to use it for assignments) Not bad, not bad, the program was for sure something nice to use. Look! I even drew my Fursonas there too, ain’t that nice

2019 was something for sure. It had just begun making 2020 quite the year as I took my wacom tablet, opened Photoshop, and on January there it was.

Oh how cute! I felt so proud of myself, firealpaca was nothing like how clean and pretty Photoshop was, I was amazed at this ability.

“I made this?” that would be what I ask myself everyday. Time to time I would, and still, look at my phone to my drawings and remember what I used to make some pieces, I will not forget how I used thick outlines with the line too from photoshop, added some depth on the eyes. But most importantly, I had a persona, and I introduced it

My friends loved it, I could not believe I am starting to do the shift, my days of traditional art were at a halt. Not at a complete stop since I do use traditional art for a few other things of course, this was just my main focus now.

This little creature was everything to me, cute, easy to make, helped me throughout a few months as I practiced with my digital art.

I also perfected it’s look, but something looked rather familiar about it. Could not put my finger to it, so I went on drawing it.

that was a few exceptions where I shifted the proportions for “it”

“It” “it” what was this thing supposed to be, I myself was unsure how to identify myself with this persona. Male? no, female? no. The issue was there, who am I really inside, who was my persona gonna be.

I still cannot tell you exactly what my persona was for the longest time. I at times felt lost and confused with my identity, it did not help that 2020 did its mumbo jumbo and a pandemic happened, it was a lot of time on my own at home just questioning really who I had been for the longest time. Classes were minimal so my free time was big around April and May.

I was always unsure of who I was exactly, through my early years late 2000′s I had in me that my body was uncomfortable for looking the way it did, 2010′s went silent but there was something in me I did not understand. why did I feel this way, why do I feel as I am not happy with who I am, and who I identify with.

This persona was the wake up call to who I really wanted to be. I saw it in me that I knew being a male was the main issue in me feeling unhappy. Throughout my life I did not enjoy masculinity as much as other kids, yeah I had some boy traits but it was rather minimal, I enjoyed other things more. I enjoyed a lot of things about being female it was something I had never seen before. as hard or confusing things tend to be from me to explain, its a rather hard thing for myself to explain. But that how it felt “confusing” I researched and looked for things and to my conclusion I had come to be, I come to identify as a MtF trans.

I felt relieved in me of it and I already enjoyed my days more after from it. The only issue is “who do I tell..?” I was timid to tell this to anyone, friends or even family. Especially family, those I come to admit they will never be told of what my decision was because of how hard headed they are. It is a tragic story to tell since most families are such closed minded people of rejecting others.

“My friends tho, my friends? I would feel bad if I told them” that was the mindset I had for a while before admitting to them time to time, one by one. This was a chapter in my life that had changed me early 2020′s but I felt a lot of joy in me to be who I wanted to be, I no longer took anyone else's guidance for controlling who I am, I just went with my own flow.

My persona was.... more comically confused, it could be either so I just left it how my mood wanted it to go for when drawing it. So, things went well, in 2019 with the money I got I found myself enjoying a lot of second handed games, with a game coming real soon that had me pumped for I had to get a console I wanted for so long

A PS4 for the the Final fantasy 7 Remake, I was so pumped waiting for the game, I got a used PS4 for it and even bought couple other games for it to get to know the console: Final fantasy 15, destiny, and later on this Persona 5 game a lot of people talked about. Hmm ok, well lets try it out and oh me oh my, a few days later:

The art style captivated me, can you tell I went all out to trying anything with my persona? I cannot believe I was my own guinea pig for these sorts.

Going around some friends and they will tell you that I used this pfp quite a lot back then, as well as updating it with a new oc I had come up with

A tale in due time will be told about this gal.

well, it was set and forth that this was me, my persona, this glaceon was who I was. People loved it, my friends really liked it, and I had a blast having this first pure year of digital art only. Meeting new friends, and admiring their art. Having old friends come back, and even losing a few others on the way. During the time of june, to July I was rapid about drawing my persona in many ways, short, tall, anthro, feral

even metallic.

 But there come some time I did not grew tired of. But a little worried that I had to rely on a franchise for my own identity, of course there is nothing wrong for those doing it. But reflecting on myself, back then when I wanted this art career to happen, I wanted to go all out letting out my imagination  with my own creations. I had to make the decision, it was time to move on...

...To a new art program and new drawing tablet

No, it wasn’t that. I had to branch out from this Glaceon, but keep my identity, my legacy of this persona in check, but with a new coat of paint of course. did not take a long time before choosing that I had to use a real life animal as inspiration for this change. Something at least close to it, ah yes of course! the inspiration of the Glaceon was an arctic fox, well those are some good stepping stones to begin with so what happened one day is that I began sketching, not before saying good bye to this old self that helped me begin. It was weird, this is me but it was old me?

Tested the new Brushes from this amazing program called Clip studio paint, and I gotta say I love the program. Sincerely the best choice I made to leave Photoshop for this.

At last, this is it. the new Me!

Familiar looking isn’t it,baby steps we can say.

I cannot blame the people for calling my new persona a “Glaceon-alike”

I headed to the right direction stepping away from it, but it was hard to let go

new program, new tablet, new me. the later half of 2020 went onto a lot of changes with myself, the chibi small version did not make me happy to make anymore, I was losing the touch and with the few comments I got of looking like a “powerpuff girl look a like” did set me off to do a drastic change I am thankful to do. This new me had some weird phases, don’t we all tho?

where else to brainstorm than back to the traditional old ways. Now, you may see this and ask what was I thinking when making this. the order of when i started and finish goes as: Top right: ok what if it was feral, nah nah scratch. Top left: Can I still make it cute with a round face and features I had from before? ew no! that looks scary Bottom right: lets make it more natural and wow hey! yes yes yes! this looks hundred times better. Bottom left: It is time I go all out and make it humanoid, it was how I found myself enjoying drawing most things but still did some anthropomorphic things. I was just not the best of it.

Back to digital and.... Amazing, I really out did myself this time, lets go for it, lets keep going with this

I even got a cool sword too!

My practice continued from here, the second half was great and fun. New persona got me in a place where I was happy with and through October and December I was having a blast with the more possibilities with it. I went on to practice with even more suggestive things after a life drawing class I took, proportions mattered to me and with this new persona I went out to make more better looking proportions that were attractive and stylish.

This persona was great, and I managed to make so much of it. even Drawing the more suggestive stuff had left me with an answer for this persona. Just make it gender fluid, my selection for this character being male or female made me so tired I did not know why I just made it gender fluid since the beginning. My mood swings for this character, and I can’t resist drawing it either way. Was I finished? of course not, this persona still had some work around to do. The hair became a pain to make to keeping up with  consistently.

2020 ended, with a year of exciting new things coming for this new year. I went through quite a lot in my life and my art career took a shaken with this new digital life style, my persona became the identity I saw myself through, something im happy with drawing to represent Me.

That isn’t to say that I gave up on drawing Me Me.

I drew who I hope to be, and will use this from time to time, nothing fancy but something.

It has been a year already since I began identifying myself with this persona from last year from now. ever since I sketched that doodle in class, it has been a happy trip through memory lane writing it and I am happy how things turned out. 2021 is what I hope to be as good as 2020 was (by that I mean drawing only of course) In 2021 one more change was made that had made me just as happy to continue on with.

I got more hair! as crazy as it is yes. More hair, and a different front style has been to this day what I been using.

I even made a discord emoji for all the warm hugs to have with my fursona!

and my first ever animation I have ever done before!!

I am always experimenting new things, and i’m proud to be an artists to go out there and leave my art out there to be noticed by anyone. The love and appreciation friends and others leave me are the best thing I could ask. I look foward to see what is up ahead, for me, my career, and Noxy.

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate Mini Review 2: Underappreciated and how Sam should deal with an abuser.

Last time I gave a general overview of how Sam is treated by his “friends”. Now I want to give a more specific example, that will also show how Dobson’s storytelling abilities are not really all that good, particularly when it comes to pacing or building up any sort of conflict.

You see, for the most part Alex ze Pirate is just a collection of stupid artwork (not even concept art, just random artwork Dobson makes of his characters dressed as something random) and one page strips with a stupid punchline, with Sam most of the time being the receiving punching bag.

There have however been a few individual, short stories over time. And when I say short stories, I mean short. As in 15 pages for a very cheap set up, a few jokes and a punchline. Those include stories such as All that Glitters (where everyone except Alex breaks into a fortress to steal something), The Wish Fish (the only halfway okay story of them all because it is just meant to be comedic) and Best Laid Plans. However, near the end of the initial run of AzP, Dobson did a three part story (partly) focused on Sam in that format, which started off with the chapter I want to talk in this post: “Underappreciated”.

As you can see, the chapter starts off following some basic rules of storytelling in comics. Two establishing panels for the location at which the story takes place initially and showing what Sam’s duties are. Nothing really bad yet. The only thing that sticks out being just the fact that a) Sam does not have his own bedroom and has to sleep in a useless outlook and b) he sleeps in his regular clothes. But hey, nothing to get upset about initially, perhaps he just prefers it like this at the moment. But with the next two pages…

The problems start to show. Page three establishing that Atea herself is just a cunt who can’t even have the basic decency of wishing her “friend” a good morning or giving him a thank you for bringing a morning beverage as she has other selfish priorities on her mind. Like wanting to lick the shower water of Alex’s skin.

Also, go fuck yourself Uncle Peggy. As in, get both your arms ripped off, shoved up your butthole with those hooks and then get hanged on those stomps like a chandelier. I wouldn’t even mind the fact here that Peggy left a mess, if the face he makes in the last panel was not obvious of the fact he left the bathroom like this on purpose and that he is rather happy of making Sam’s day extra miserable by the fecal matter he left behind. Combined with any previous strip of the comic showing that Peggy for no reason likes to get the boy in trouble and even wants to see him die, this just shows once more of how much of an asshole he is. If the last panel just showed him with a groogy hangover look, obviously unaware of how much discomfort he brings unintentionally to Sam, that would be one thing. But intentionally making Sam’s day miserable despite the obvious fact the boy is the first one to do anything around here, while making one of the worst drawn “HAHA, I am such a rascal faces” I have ever seen (and I have seen shitty anime en mass) makes me hate the character more than Dobson intented.

And then there is page 5…

And it is in my opinion the saddest page in the entire comic arc, even compared to the “heartbreaking” stuff Dobson wants to pull up in the last third of it. Because though it is meant as a joke, the general execution is too cruel, crossing into “dude, not funny” territory and showing just how little the crew cares for Sam. Talus, Sam’s “best friend” not even aware he is around, everyone stealing Sam’s food with that stupid “Yoink” sound (seriously, I wish the characters would get punched in the vaginas each time they make this sound in any of Dobson’s strips) and then leaving Sam behind with smug faces, ready to do whatever they want to do, while he, likely stinking of feces and not even having showered properly, has also to clean up after those pigs, who can’t even eat in a proper manner ( hey Atea, use a fork instead of holding the bowl) and silently. I mean, they are pretty much pigs when the noises they make are loud enough, they make the font of the writing change randomly into whatever Dobson has on his computer with every sound. Not to forget the mess they leave behind. And they call Sam the Slob?

Anyway, on to the next page…

And who the heck left their Hello Kitty toy in the bathtub? Also, I hate the way Alex’s face is drawn in the lower left corner. Something about the eyes in relation to the shit eating grin just looks off. Less “smug” and gleefully awaiting whatever she plans next and looking more like Dobson when someone tells him his opinion and reasoning for it is bad, but he can’t yell back at them because they are part of a minority and so he has make a “good face” to a bad situation, while internally he is already imagining how to strawman them in some fake news worthy facebook post.

And then we get to page 7. Which features the WORST addition to the “Alex ze Pirate” canon Dobson has ever thought up. An embodiment of what is wrong with Dobson when it comes to inserting internet culture related stuff into his own work. Ladies and gentlemen… the lolcat pirates

Yeah, those Hello Kitty rejects who ironically look still more like a proper cat than Spot in Danny and Spot, are essentially one of the worst jokes Dobson has ever created. Because they are a joke without a punchline. See, all there is to them is that they are sentient cats, that speak in a manner associated with lolcat posting. And that is the “joke”. Their speech pattern being based on a dumb internet meme that was popular at the time Dobson drew this page. It is like if you portray an Asian by making them talk with a shitty racist accent and that supposedly counts already as comedy. It is not funny, because there is nothing really done with it in context of the story. Like no one addresses the weird way they talk. Also, with the font Dobson uses, it is just an eyesore to any reader and the text gets aggravating the more the captain of the cats talks. It shows why lolcat pictures only had very short sentences accompanying the pics, cause reading more than 8 words written in this manner tingles a part of your brain that makes you want to shout “English motherfucker, do you speak it”?

Don’t get me even started on how the joke would get lost to anyone unaware of lolcats and how dated the joke already was back when the page was posted, which is one of many reasons why comic artists should just in general avoid memes in their work, if they hope for it to pass the test of time. Instead let me just point out the fact that though Alex said “All hands prepared for casting off” on the previous page (which is also a very unnatural way to give the order “Everyone get ready! Take off in 10 minutes”) not all hands are on board, seeing how Uncle Peggy is missing on this page (and spoilers) many pages of this afterwards. Weird. I thought he would be onboard the moment Alex mentioned they are going to hijack a ship full of pussy. Lastly, this is Alex being a “badass”? Taking over a ship full of little furballs you can defeat with a laserpointer, a squeaky toy and catnip? Sam, this is not just “almost” embarrassingly easy, this is literally on a level similar to stealing candy from a baby. That is mentally handicapped. And without supervision. In a candy story.

At least it turns out there is genuinely something worth stealing on this ship. Otherwise all Alex would have accomplished on that very day would have been animal abuse for the sake of entertainment. Though now it also gets me thinking: A place called Katsville, the revelation that the captain is supposedly the child of a high ranking military feline within the sea force of an entire species of sentient cats… how exactly does the world of Alex ze Pirate function? Look, I do not want to get into too much detail about this point here yet, because it is a bigger issue with the worldbuilding (or rather lack thereof) of this series in general, but what is the “consistency” when it comes to races and species in this world? See, One Piece for example is overall a very “cartoonish” and fantastic world (more cartoonish than what Dobson creates on average) when you think of the fact there are fish men, giant seacows and seamonsters, sentient furry creatures, islands in the sky, sentient weather phenomenons etc next to humans. And while Oda does not really spend time elaborating in very high detail how his world works, the sheer abundance of those elements and how they were established pretty early on in the story and are revisited constanly, with the cartoonish flavor and humor of One Piece on top of it, makes those oddities feel organic and a part of the world.

Not so much in AzP. Here over 90% of the time any character not related to the crew is some generically drawn human, in a very generically human setting with jokes just not cartoonish enough. So the world of AzP feels more “realistic” and less oddish, making then things like Talus, the lolcat pirates and once a giant sea dragon that looked like Elliot’s rejected cousin

Stand out like a sour thumb that looks like this

But I digress. Lets see what makes Sam, who just seems bored and wants to end his miserable life/drink his sorrows away, throw the cat captain against the wall.

Okay. Sam’s overall reaction makes it clear, the locket is important. So “kudos” for establishing this and in doing so also create within a moment a bit of intrigue for the reader. After all, why does this locket get such a reaction out of Sam, who we know so far as more happy go lucky or deadpan in parts, instead of looking genuinely distraught. Heck, the fact he even tells Alex to shut up when she commands him around should highlight how out of character finding this locket truly makes Sam.

Then there is Alex’s reaction to being told to shut up, which she takes with as much dignity as someone telling Dobson to just stop fawning about underaged lesbians in a toddler show.

Jesus Christ, she faces being told she looks like a guy with more grace than that. I mean, isn’t she used to being told to shut her trap? Cause if I were her parents, I would have told this entitled redheaded whinner a few times over the course of her childhood to shut up.

Scum sucking cabin boy… said by a butt ugly whore who would genuinely suck scum off if it means she can finally get laid instead of being mistaken for a man. By the way, with that angry face she makes in the first panel, I can totally see why others would mistake her for a dude. She just looks unpleasant and not in a funny way like that red panda girl from Aggretsuko. See, when she gets angry, it looks hilarious and cute because of the contrast to how the character looks ordinarily. This is just Alex looking even more unpleasant as usual.

Now, before I continue with the next pages, I like to point out the face Sam makes in the upper panel and Sam’s overall body language in the last one.

It is obvious that Sam is meant to be in a state of mind where he knows for what he is getting yelled at and where he genuinely reacts in a hurt manner. His body shaking, his head tilted down, not saying even a word. You would expect that the next page of this comic would be a follow up. Seeing Sam, who is pent up, lashing out in some way. Either for example by justifying why he said it, getting sad, angry, perhaps even violent in that situation. After all, so far the way this story has been structured, a lot of emphasize was put on the fact that Sam is treated not well and that finding this locket actually has an uncommon effect on him. Heck, even the title of this chapter hints on the idea, that we should get some sort of huge reaction out of Sam now on the next page, as this is supposed to be Sam’s story.

Instead it is just Alex grumbling and grinding her teeth, unable to comprehend that someone finally told her something every reader with more than 20 braincells said when reading this comic series. And this in my opinion is from a structural point, one of the biggest missteps in this story. Obviously, this is supposed to be a comic about Sam, based on title and him being the one character in it with the most emotional aspects so far. And it is also obvious that this is not just meant to be a silly gag comic but supposedly one with emotional weight. So, where is that weight so far, aside from the panels showing Sam being miserable because he gets the short end of the stick by his friends? Sorry to hijack this thing here now with my own ideas, but if I had writen this story, page 12 and 13 would have actually been an immense turning point for me in the dynamic so far. Why I would have let Alex shout at Sam for insubordination, I would have made it more than one panel of Alex calling him scum and also end likely with Sam, who obviously reaches a limit the longer she goes on about it, end punching her in the face, perhaps even knock out. Show truly just how far Sam is pushed emotionally at this moment, keeping it however ambiguous if he hit her because of her words hurting or because of something else, in doing so focusing also the attention to the reader back on the locket.

As an aftermath of this, Alex would (if not knocked out) hit Sam back, much to Atea’s and Talus horror, later implying additionally that Sam left because of being hit by whom he thinks is not just his captain but a “friend” (oh yes spoiler, Sam is gone in the next chapter)   or the next page would be of Alex waking up back in her hideout from having been knocked out. Atea and Talus informing her what happened, her deciding to deal with Sam later on after recovering (who accompanied everyone back on the island temporarily) only for the last page showing Sam deciding that he is leaving the island, ending the chapter on Sam in a small boat slowly drifting away from the island. You know, something to give the chapter the feeling that the “shut up” moment is an emotional turning point in this story and that there might be something bigger going on that resulted in Sam deciding to leave, without having him however go full Meg Griffin as in the Family Guy episode “Seashell Seahorse Party”, chewing Alex and the others out for the way they treat him. Cause honestly, as much as I like for Alex, Atea and Talus to be chewed out and face consequences for their actions, doing so would likely just be (like in that Family guy episode)  a pointless fillerbuster in the bigger picture of things, as no real consequences would come out of it.

Well that and just like the writers of Family Guy, Dobson is just equally loathsome and thinks he can write whatever sick joke he wants and can on his characters, basic decency or consistency in writing be damned.

But back to the comic, where things just “end” as shown here instead of any real emotions boiling up and a cliffhanger that may genuinely beg the question what is going to happen next to anyone involved in this thing.

 Cause really, by the time it is night and Sam says it is time to go, you are not surprised he wants to go, even if he did not have a genuine emotional outburst within this chapter. After all, who wants to stay with “friends” like this, with Talus and Atea not even trying to cheer him up and instead ignoring his obvious need for comfort in this uncomfortable way, as if they are a bunch of racists trying to look away as someone beats a black person in front of them into a pulp. The only question you may ask yourself by the time the last page is hit, is who that generic looking girl is, whose picture has been photoshopped into the locket.

 Something we may not find out by the time the next chapter and part of this review hits, but will get to eventually. Until then guys, in order to end on something happier, funnier and just genuinely more pleasant than what this story presented to us so far, have something silly and Super Sentai related here for the sake of childish entertainment.

[feelingsinwinter]

Asked by @journeythroughtherain​

So, I picked one from each prompt list, so you can choose which one you want to do the most! From the first list: WinterIron 7 - “Aren’t you a little old for trick or treating?”. From the second: WinterIron, Spells and Curses, 41. “How can I calm down!? I have a tail!”

Tony bent, picking up his pen from where it had fallen and Bucky stared.

Tony’s well-rounded ass was a marvel in itself. The muscular kind but with just the right touch of softness. Bucky could only imagine how it must felt under his hands, how tender it would be, how the flesh would give under his kneading fingers. The firm muscles would be amazing too and Bucky died a little inside at the idea.

He sighed and choked on it when Steve elbowed him in the ribs.

“Bucky,” he hissed, “you’re doing it again.”

On the top of his head, Bucky felt his ears flattening against his skull, both in embarrassment and irritation. Sad but resigned, Bucky pouted before sitting on the nearest stool. He bit back a whimper when his tail, wagging furiously, got stuck between his ass and his seat.

It was the only way he knew of to keep it from moving like the worst give-away.

From his position on the fridge, Clint sniggered.

It was all his fault anyway. The bastard, as soon as Tony had entered the kitchen, had thrown a pop-corn which had hit the pen stuck behind Tony’s ear. Following gravity’s law, the pen had fallen and Tony had bent to retrieve it, probably cursing all the while but Bucky had been deaf to it, only registering the engineer’s lovely voice. Even cursing madly and growling, Tony’s voice held something magical to Bucky’s ears. That they were now even more sensitive only made it worse.

Clint knew what it would cause, had done it anyway.

Clint was dead but unaware of it.

Sniffling pitifully, tears stinging the corner of his eyes, Bucky stared at his half-emptied plate, trying to will away the hot, breath-taking pain erupting from his stuck tail.

Bucky had been shot, kicked in the nuts, had been sliced like a pig, operated on while awake but nothing compared to the insufferable agony of a stuck tail. A hand laid on his shoulder and he almost jumped out of his seat but kind, warm brown eyes were looking at him, flickers of gold shining in them and Bucky relaxed instantly.

“You ok there, Bucka-r-oo?” Tony looked worried and Bucky had to resist the urge to stuck his elbow in Steve’s ribs since the bastard was hiding his chuckles behind his hand, Bucky could hear him.

“M’not hungry,” Bucky mumbled with a frown, looking back down at his plate and glaring at it.

There was a beat of a silence and Tony said: “Okay.” before turning around and leaving. Without the coffee he had come for.

Once Bucky was certain Tony was out of hearing range, he looked up at Clint, still nestled atop the fridge.

The archer yelped.

[beware the read more]

***

In retrospect, Bucky should have known better than to pick up a wand when they went out on a mission for the umpteeth piece of crap who thought October was the best time to fuck with magic. He should have, but at the time, tired and annoyed by the sheer number of wannabe wizards who thought October and Halloween would grant them the powers they’ve been dreaming of for whoever knew how long. The team had since long lost track of their mission and their number.

At first they counted, amused in a grim way, but they dropped it when they started taking turns to go on mission. They couldn’t keep up if they all went all the time, some were humans and needed rest, others needed to eat in order to sustain and replace the energy they burnt when on a mission.

This time Bucky was on the field and he wasn’t even that tired but annoyed and he had lost all patience four missions ago and this time he couldn’t wait for a special team to take its sweet time to arrive and retrieve the wand. What could go wrong?

What could go wrong indeed. The shifting had taken him by surprise, a piercing kind of pain that had sent him howling to the ground as bones and muscles shifted, snapping and breaking in a sick concert.

When Dr. Strange had arrived, Bucky was restrained and snarling, eyes burning bright gold. His body was an infernal mix between human and wolf, the kind seen in movie that could never quite retranscribe the nightmarish shape of a werewolf. Dark lips pulled up over long, deadly fangs glistening with drool as a low growl rolled up from his throat.

The Master of the Mystic Arts had found a way to reverse the process but only to a point. Since the shifting was still in progress when he arrived, Strange had managed to regress it a bit. Since then, Bucky was sporting a long, furry tail and tufty ears, both reacting to any and every of his mood and broadcasting it to the whole world to see.

Which wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, Bucky was good at keeping a tight leash on his emotions. Except where Tony was concerned. It hadn’t taken long for his tail to waggle as soon as Tony’s ass came into view, for his ears to point forward as soon as the man was in hearing range. His tail also wriggled at the smallest compliment, at the slightest glance, at the barest touch. Anything from Tony and his wolf features lost all common-sense.

Of course, then, how was he supposed to hide his stupid, ridiculous, crush?

Aside from Tony who seemed entirely oblivious to it, the whole team had picked up on it and while Bruce stayed quiet and understanding, Natasha had now that insufferable knowing smirk gracing her lips on a daily basis, Steve had a shit-eating grin that wouldn’t quit and let’s not talk about Clint who was a pain in the ass 24/7.

***

Bucky hid on his floor the next day. Tony had been avoiding him since the kitchen episode, nothing all too obvious but if there was one thing Bucky was mindful of, it was Tony. The genius hadn’t come up to refill his coffee which he had come for in the first place before Clint proved to be an asshole once again. Since then, he hadn’t been seen, not coming for movie night either. Sometimes Tony stayed in his lab to work on some important project but at the moment Bucky knew there was nothing keeping the genius’ mind busy. Except for the usual stuff.

So, Tony was avoiding him. He said as much to Steve, explaining his theory all the while going back and forth in front of the couch where his friend was sitting calmly.

Bucky felt like a lion in a cage. Or, rather, like a wolf in a bear-trap. His ears were slightly going backward, open but not as straight as they would be in a common situation. His tail hung low, tense, and the fur on it slightly raised.

“Why don’t you go and talk to him? I don’t know, I heard communication helped in the process of solving problems.”

Bucky snarled, the sound wild and violent, and froze guiltily as soon as he realized what he had done.

“Yeah, right, because going to him and talk it out, as I am, is a brilliant idea. What about you take some classes in making plans, sounds like you got rusty,” he growled, pacing some more.

Since the wand bullshit, there was always an underlying of violence, coiled tight in his muscles and waiting for the smallest excuse to explode in a show of brutality. He was grateful that Strange’s work had getting rid of the claws and fangs. Talking with oversized teeth would have been difficult, if not impossible, and the frustration might have driven him nuts. Also, the claws would have been dangerous for everyone involved. Bucky was already a hazard, he didn’t need any claws or fangs to make it worse.

“You should calm down,” Steve said placatingly, keeping his hands carefully in his lap. Raising them in order to appease Bucky might have the opposite result since wolves took that kind of gesture as a threat.

Bucky’s lips quivered, holding back another threatening sound. He glared at Steve and sat in the armchair. Only to jump back on his feet, a loud, angry snarl spilling from his lips when he sat on his tail.

“How am I supposed to calm down,” he roared, anger and despair mingling tight together in a sad mix, “when I have a fucking goddamn tail!”

Steve opened his mouth, his face pinched in that concerned way Bucky knew would lead to some appeasing bullshit that would give no result. Growling at his friend, Bucky stomped his way out of the room. The elevator’s doors opened for him, courtesy of JARVIS, and Bucky felt robbed from the possibility of slamming the door on his way out.

***

Anger and frustration burned in his guts as Bucky made his way up to the roof. Steve would let him be, at least for a while. Would give him some space and time to calm down. Then he would come back with his patented look of disappointment and spill all those nice crap supposed to lift Bucky’s hopes up.

Tony was so far out of Bucky’s league, there wasn’t even a way it could happen. Also, there was something deeply wrong about Bucky’s body reaction as soon as the man was around. The deep fluttering feeling made him queasy, it was worse than being sick and it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard Bucky tried to shove it down. The constant need of touching was unbearable but it had became infernal as soon as the spell had hit him. He was constantly longing for Tony’s eyes and have them on him, there was always those wondering thoughts about how Tony’s fingers would feel on him.

He knew how it felt, in a way. Tony was a very tactile person, always touching for a reason or another. A pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder, a small touch on the arm or a one-arm hug, any and everything. But Tony always retreated too fast, too quick, as if expecting rejection if he stayed for too long while Bucky yearned for more without daring to ask for it.

He sat carefully on the edge, keeping his tail out of the way and let his feet dangling in the void beneath. Bucky closed his eyes, smiling softly when a gush of air hit his face. It was cold outside, mid-October had brought its particular smell and the crisp air of Fall.

Natasha, Clint and Bruce were outside on another mission while Steve, Bucky and Tony rested from the previous one. The team had shifted since Bucky’s misadventure.

The burning pit of anger was settling, its glowing embers fading in the face of the cold, refreshing air and the calm of the night. Well, as much as New-York could be in the middle of October with Halloween approaching.

Footsteps made him tense but when Tony sat beside him, an arm length of distance between them, Bucky hesitated. The distance made him anxious and unsure but Tony’s presence and his smell made him want to relax and bask in it.

“Steve told me you were here,” Tony said quietly, looking straight ahead with his shoulders up to his ears.

Fucking bastard couldn’t leave it alone, finally. Had gone right to Tony and who knew what he had said to convince Tony to come up there.

“He shouldn’t have,” Bucky growled and Tony tensed furthermore, his back hunched and Bucky felt his guts twist in shame and guilt, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. “What did I do?” He asked sullenly, feeling his own shoulders drop and his goddamn ears drooping sadly.

Tony startled and looked at him, eyes wide. “What did you do?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“Well, yeah,” Bucky answered slowly, frowning in confusion. he made a gesture toward Tony: “You’ve been avoiding me like the plague lately. You didn’t even invited me to try out the ray of death we’ve been working on before something went wrong.”

Tony stared at him. “You are mad at me!” He protested, pointing accusingly at Bucky.

“No, I’m not! Why would I be mad at you??”

“Because it’s my fault if you’re like that!”

“What the fuck Tony! I picked up the godddamn wand on my fucking own, thank you very much!”

“But you wouldn’t have if you hadn’t gone there in my stead!”

Silence fell suddenly and they stared at each other, panting slightly. Bucky groaned and covered his face with his hands while Tony pinched the bridge of his nose.

“So, if I gathered it right,” Bucky said through his palms. “You think I’m mad at you because you were so exhausted you couldn’t walk straight anymore, so I proposed to you to go on the mission for you so you could rest for once. So you think it’s your fault if I, as a grown-up, made a decision of my own to pick up a not secured wand?”

Tony sniffed and dropped his hand in his lap. He shrugged. “Said like that, it sounds stupid.”

“I can see why you’d think I’m mad at you, I guess,” Bucky mumbled, thinking back on the last few days. “But I’m not. Mad, that is. M’not blaming you either,” he added softly.

Tony looked at him. Slowly, his eyes trailed up and stared at the tufty things on top of Bucky’s head. They were pointed toward him, relaxed in a way. Attentive.

“You’re not?”

“Nope,” Bucky answered, popping it and smiling when it drew a snort out of Tony. “If I’m mad at something, I’m mad at all those batshit crazy wannabe wizards,” he grumbled. “What’s wrong with them.”

“Halloween,” Tony said immediately, looking alternatively between Bucky’s ears and Bucky’s eyes, a small smile stretching his lips. Slowly, almost shyly in a way Tony rarely was, he asked: “Can I touch them?”

Bucky blinked, taken aback. Butterflies rose in his belly, fluttering all around. His heart hammered against his ribs. Behind him, his tail thudded against the roof’s ground and Bucky felt his cheeks warming up. “Yes. Please.”

Tony smiled, something sweet and soft and Bucky held back a whine as his tail thudded harder. Slowly, Tony scooted closer until they were side by side, Bucky’s left plastered against Tony’s right. Tony lifted his hands, his eyes going from Bucky’s face to the ears on top of it, watching Bucky’s reaction as his fingers finally made contact with his ears.

Gently, Tony petted them, scratching behind them and, with a touch of hesitation, carding his fingers through Bucky’s strands and coming back to the ears.

Bucky felt himself melt as he leaned against Tony’s shoulders, closing his eyes, a happy rumble thundering softly in his chest.

***

Later, when the chill of the air became too cold to be comfortable, they made their way down to the workshop where they settled on the ratty couch they usually sat on while discussing ideas. If they, later on, agreed on a date as soon as the craziness of Halloween died down, it was nobody’s business but their own.

Steve smiled as soon as he heard about it, smug as fuck. Smiling softly, Bucky kneed him and, as Steve yelped and fell, thanked him.

[72826-on-tumbler-blog]

"Some people go to jail and find God." Neil tells everyone about her time in jail. Was it because of a crime she didn't commit? "One person in my block even mastered the flute. But when I was in the joint, I had an altogether more personal epiphany, one that I think will surprise many of the people here tonight. And that is that I, Beatrice Santello, was dead fuckin' wrong about shit like this. I made a mistake. I opened the door just enough so that a few swingin' dicks could come in. I thought for sure there had to be one or two inoffensive men willing to help with our cause, but you know what I learned when I was in the clink? There are no exceptions." Maurice was showing a little bit of sweat. "Why don't you stand up, Maurice. Come on, chop-chop." He stood up slowly. "Do it, turd!" He was now standing. "Is there anything you've been wanting to get off your chest?" "Uh, I'm a turd. Uh, an abject lowlife piece of garbage who's not fit to-" Bea interrupts him. "No. I mean, yes, you are a turd. But he's looking for a new confession." She shows him a small book. "Wh-What's that? A new play? Your next manifesto?" He looked like he was trying to avoid the punishment. "Oh, come on, I'm supposed to believe that you never seen this, asshole? That it wasn't wedged under your bed as recently as last night with a healthy collection of beefcake magazines? Same code, same handwriting that was splashed across the Chronicle, the Examiner, the Vallejo Times! We know you wrote the letters, turd." He stuttered in fear. "It's not mine. I'm-I'm not the Zodiac." "Fess up, Maurice. Just like a man to take credit for the work of a woman." Bea, please, I-I'm nothing. I'm a turd. I'm just a turd." Bruce began to speak. "You did this to yourself, Maurice. You've got no one else to blame but yourself." Bea then stabs him in the arm. He screamed in pain and agony as the blood began to drip from the knife. "Nice watch, Bruce! Your willingness to let your fellow self, Maurice, meet my blade while you just stood by silently, because that says more about your sex than a million words. I've seen your chicken scratch, Bruce. No cipher can hide piss-poor penmanship!" "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to. I'm weak. I'm a weakling. But I'm still a man!" I whack him with the bat. I tell her, "What should we do with him?" Neil turned to me and said, "Put him in the cage." We carry him to a box that can fit him. It was shaped like a coffin. "NO! NOT THERE!" He begins to beg for mercy. We place him inside and seal the box shut. Be a then pushes it to the cremating furnace. He screamed and screamed as the flames began to melt him. Bea began to smile as we all watched him burn. A few hours later, Neil starts another meeting. "We have to think bigger. 'Cause the man in the moon, oh, he's fake, my friends. And when we're done, no one will be able to deny that SCWM was the dawn of the revolution." Bea began to speak. "Well, I've made a hit list. Some real disgusting motherfuckers. Like this asshole, Hugh Hefner, who's clearly threatened by our power, so he subjugates and attacks our self-worth and our evolutionarily superior thoughts! Billy Graham, useless fucking oppressor of women. Raped a kid once in Vietnam. Bobby Riggs, directs furry porn to make money." Seeing her like this after dealing with Bruce made her a little...off. "Steve McQueen. Oh, Steve fuckin' McQueen, he's the worst of all. He took Ali MacGraw from us, squandered her God-given talent, and now she's a housewife in goddamn Malibu." Neil looked confused. "You sure there isn't another reason you want us to do that, Bea?" "Well, their problems are affecting me because I didn't cause them, but they don't need a visual. Not to mention he was fucking a dumb-as-shit baby girl." Maurice then said, "Why are we even trying to win some stupid gang conflict? Who cares if we win or not?" Bea then slaps him across the face. "Because people don't follow experts anymore, asshole, they follow titles. And when we get our shit together, and cause enough panic and fear, the sheep are gonna turn to their leaders to save them. It doesn't matter if the devil himself rises up from hell and starts killing people around here as long as no one sees him do it. The world isn't 'tell me,' it's 'show me.'" I tell him, "Bea's right. People aren't scared because they haven't seen the goddamn clowns. We are pulling off the cinematic Clockwork Orange shit, and it's like we're putting on a show for ourselves." "We have to strike back. And this time, we won't miss." Our crew drives to a nearby gas station where a Vendetta vehicle is parked. The driver's name was Hariku Soranzia, a mere college dropout until he found clarity in himself. We grabbed him, put a bag over his head, and threw him in the van. He begins to wake up. "Jesus." he sees Bea holding a Rockwell electric saw. "What do you want from me?" "Answers. What happened to Meadow?" Hariku stuttered, "I wanted Ally to save her. So I let her do it I didn't know she was gonna blow her own brains out." Be a looked fiercely at him in the eye. "You should have known. You were her husband, and you let her be manipulated." "Oh, now you want to talk about protecting our wives?!" Neil then said, "My wife drove me crazy. I didn't get her killed! Her death had more meaning than any moment in her pathetic life. And you know that. And this is all YOU! I'm the genius! I'm the author of SCWM! "What about Men Lead, Women Bleed? - You came up with that." Hariku was confused. "What? No, I didn't." "Even if you just said it to impress your new SS-wannabe boyfriends, it's disgusting." Bea moves the saw closer to his head. "I never said it!" Bea told him, "Now would be the time to deny it. Not that we would ever believe you. You of all people know what it's like to be marginalized, pushed out. You're a gay man." She hands me the saw. "Put him out of his misery." I used the saw and cut open his skull. We pulled his brains out, put a tape in his head, and slammed his skull shut. We put him back in the car we kidnapped him in, and drove off. As I got home, I read a piece of an article from Valarie Solanas. "The human soul is completely egocentric, trapped inside of one's self, capable of empathizing with others, of love or friendship, affection or tenderness." This is something to me, watching the blinds glow, or the smiling faces on tv. The SCWM Journal was the first time I had clearly laid out the radical thesis that hate was the real problem in society. Has a woman ever started a war? Are the polluting, Earth-murdering CEOs of Standard Oil or Dow Chemicals like me? Would pigs wait in dark hallways at night to rape sheep as they come home from work? Do Christians molest their daughters for belief? Does the government pervert art into commerce like some people we all know? All of those questions had only one single answer: A yes, no, or a maybe. But there is one question that had suddenly appeared in my head: Who is none the wiser? But before I could answer it, I heard the phone ring. It was Neil. "Hey there. Hope I'm not calling at a worse time, but, we need to relocate. Turns out the cops found out about our hideout. So where would you like to go?" "I think I know a place..."

[professor-maka]

So welcome to my second reverb project, a SoMa paranormal AU that is the brainchild of the massively talented @nsart. She’s been amazing to work with and I’m so thrilled to get to share with you this concept and her beautiful art!

Many thanks to her, along with my beta squad for this, @sahdah, @redphlox, and @l0chn3ss. You guys always have my back and I love you all to pieces.

This fic is a prologue for a longer work that I do intend to continue. Links to be posted for FFN and AO3 at some point but not yet because my wifi is out so I really can’t.

Also, please please please do yourselves the massive favor of checking out the inspiration for this fic, @nsart’s amazing artwork. There’s a version on the lovely banner she created, but the entire version can be found here.

Now, without further adieu, here is the Prologue for Caught Up in You.

—

Maka doesn’t like being followed. She especially doesn’t like that whoever has the audacity to follow her reeks of wolf.

Glancing at the moon so bright overhead, she takes a moment to just breathe. The moon is beautiful, almost full and lustrous, and it calls to her soul nearly as strongly as it repels it. Centering herself, she reaches out with that part of being that basks in the reflected sunlight. If there is a demon within range, a Kishin as her roommate Tsubaki calls them, it is currently dormant, masking its sheer wrongness. Not that Tsubaki interacts with them often; an ameonna in Death City isn’t exactly a powerhouse.

With a resigned sigh, Maka scans the horizon. It’s a clear night and the stars are bright as they shine coldly down amidst a sea of darkness, yet the city around her twinkles, teeming with light and life. Her city. The grip on her scythe tightens imperceptibly as she feels the nearby presence stir, restless.

It’s been several nights. She can smell his presence on the wind while she hunts, sense his soul as it follows. The fact that this soul reads as vaguely familiar and yet not exactly known is perhaps the most troublesome part of all.

Who is he?

Four nights ago, she’d first noticed his scent and thought nothing of it–she noticed a lot of scents when she hunted. But then, as hours passed, that scent remained, and she braced herself for inevitable attack.

It never came. And yet, he never left.

Every night since then, like clockwork, his scent has reappeared, the warm orange she can sense from his soul nearby yet always too distant to see. That he isn’t human also shines clear in his soul, though what he is she can’t say. Something supernatural. Something powerful, maybe even as strong as she is.

Her instincts scream werewolf, his scent the same, but logic suggests otherwise; there haven’t been werewolves in Death City in decades, not since the rogue Star clan was defeated. Well, there is one, but it’s definitely not him, and she’s pretty sure he’d tell her if there was a new kid on the block.

Maybe her stalker works at the zoo or something and that’s why he’s so saturated in wolf.

But why does he follow her so diligently? Though he may be supernatural, he’s no kishin, his soul makes that truth clear, so what is it he wants, exactly?

Maka will be damned before she lets him interfere with her protecting her city from the darkness that stalks it diligently of late. There are others who fight them, of course, who stand against the encroaching evil as she does, but she’s the only one who can see them before they strike, the only one who can stop them before they gain their purpose.

It’s why she cannot rest. Why the hospital has become a daily stop. Why she’s out tonight and every night this month as her work piles up at home. There have always been demons, and her kind has always fought them, but recently, they've become an epidemic.

The fear is what she feels first, shrieking from the human below like a beacon. Then comes the second soul, ravenous and cruel. Maka grew up laughing at how humans depict vampires–undead, insatiable, cruel–yet this feels more like what humans believe of her kind than anything she’s ever known.

It isn’t vampires they should fear.

Flush with blood, she’s fast. In the blink of an eye she’s there, preternatural speed giving her movement beyond human sense or comprehension. Maka’s very nearly too late, just has time to get between the woman and the drooling, snarling thing that now only vaguely resembles the human it once was, its soul corrupted by the demon inside, by the human souls it has feasted upon with reckless abandon. But not anymore. Not tonight.

Even with her speed, even with her scythe poised between them, the blow is inevitable, the not quite full moon dampening her power just enough.

It never comes. The deep throated growl and the shove that follow come instead as her mind floods with orange warmth, as a shriek of pure agony fills the air.

Of course her stalker strikes now. Of course.

So maybe he’s not a kishin, but he could be helping them, even creating them.

Getting to her feet, Maka prepares to face her attacker. Preoccupied with the kishin and then trying not to fall completely prone, she hadn’t even seen him. He’s long gone, the kishin soul hanging like a bloody momento in his wake, the human would-be victim trembling against the wall behind it.

“Don’t. Please.” The woman’s eyes are wide as she looks at Maka. With a sigh, Maka retracts her fangs.

“You’re safe now,” she says gently. “You should go.”

The poor thing doesn’t need to be told twice, tottering off quickly and unevenly in one too high silver heel, the other a clear casualty of her night. Her top is too low and her skirt is too high, but that’s pretty common at this time of night. Night club, maybe, though more probably working girl.

Willing down the flash of disgust because this woman has been traumatized enough and it really isn’t her fault that men are pigs, Maka scans the horizon. His soul is still there, just far enough away that she can sense but not see, the same way it’s been for too long now.

Her stalker is far enough that he’s not an immediate threat, so she turns her attention to the kishin soul looming red and vicious beside her, taking out her small collection bag to hold it until she can get it to Kid for proper disposal. Only the second one tonight–it’s far too quiet.

As she handles it, the briefest touch, she recognizes how powerful this demon had become and rage fills her. The soul of her attacker lurks, and she still has no idea what the hell he’s up to. All she really knows is that he just shoved her aside in a way that could have gotten her killed. Perhaps he’d killed the kishin, but the first blow had been for her.

Time to end this.

Maka had been willing to let it ride when he’d done nothing but watch, but now that he’s shown himself as an enemy, she can no longer ignore his presence. Full moon or not, she needs to confront him before he does worse.

The fact she still doesn’t know what he is, that she hadn’t gotten even so much as a glance, irritates her beyond measure even as the smell of fear and wolf lingers powerfully, choking her senses.

She’s beginning to suspect she’d been mistaken.

Grip firm on her scythe, she focuses, sensing his soul again, and moves, ready to finally discover, confront, defeat. Maka has let this go on for far too long already. Only, he’s gone, he’s moving too, he’s keeping distance. Whoever he is, he’s fast. Maka only knows one person faster than she is, and even then it’s only around a full moon.

The idea she’s been mistaken is becoming more and more likely. And if she’s mistaken, catching him might be impossible if he doesn’t wish to be caught.

Four nights of this. What could he want?

He keeps just ahead, bounding over rooftops with the same inhuman speed she possesses, but she catches her first glimpse, sharpened night vision offering details as she chases.

Shirtless and barefoot and white haired, all of which is suspect, but visibly human so far. She can smell the kishin blood on him mixed with his own strong scent of wolf and human and him and something else that has her puzzled. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize it at all–more like she can’t work out how it could possibly apply to the situation, so she dismisses it. Her senses can be off so close to the full moon, and anyway, such subtleties can be easy to misread.

Getting closer would help, but he keeps the same distance ahead, taunting. If he wants to kill her, then frustration is his only play at the moment.

Why stalk her, attack her and kill the kishin that would have gotten a blow–nothing fatal, she’s made of much stronger stuff, but it would have been painful–only to retreat and keep running when she finally makes a move?

Is he a spy? She just can’t figure it out, and Maka has never enjoyed feeling lost, feeling like she has no answers.

“Just stop!” she growls out, exasperation taking over.

What she could not expect is that he actually does. Maka nearly collides with him he halts so fast, but she just manages to catch herself in a crouch a mere ten feet shy.

Finally, finally, she gets a real look at him and feels utterly stupid. Wolf. Definitely wolf. The one who blinks down at her, red eyes wide, is clearly changing. Her gaze sweeps him as she stands. Furry white ears poke out from messy white hair where none had been before, and a long, white tail sweeps out behind him. As her gaze moves down, she sees thick fur sprouting on his bare arms, hands growing sharp claws. His bare feet have been replaced by paws, and white crawls up nondescript brown trousers, replacing cloth with fur.

Maka has seen this before. He’s changing, but also resisting the change. The fact he even can–especially so near the full moon–is unexpected. Most wolves don’t have the strength. Hell, most wolves don’t even try.

The puzzle deepens and she frowns up at him. He’s tall. Even with his limbs shortening, he still towers over her. She steps closer, examining him, and he makes no move to stop her. His scent does not read as threatening nor does his soul, and she needs to understand.

Who is he? What is he? A wolf, yes, but an odd one.

His eyes are still wide as he peers at her wordlessly, glowing red pools in the darkness. The struggle behind them is real. He’s fighting–the change, but also something else that she can’t quite understand. Want or maybe need. It goes with what she’d smelled earlier. She’s smelled it on Blake before around Tsubaki, but it’s odd in a lone wolf. She definitely doesn’t sense another soul near. Something to puzzle over later, she supposes.

Maka should probably be afraid; the wind could shift and this stranger attack at any moment. But her scythe is between them and she could bring it up to slash him apart in an instant–the fact he’s stopped, the fact he’s let her get so close speaks volumes. And anyway, she knows he won’t. That other part of her, the soul her mother gifted her, this near it reads him as safe. It’s a gift she’s learned to trust, especially with the moon so bright. Her vampire instincts may scream danger, but her other half knows he means her no harm.

Like him, she has her own battle to fight.

“You’re an odd one,” she murmurs as her inner sight focuses on his soul. Warm, loyal, frayed at the edges by life. Jaded and sarcastic and lonely. But most of all it comes back to warm. It draws her in somehow, feels familiar even when it isn’t, and she doesn’t realize how close she’s leaned until she adds, “maybe you weren’t trying to kill me,” a single finger of a single hand raised at the epiphany even as that realization strikes. Maka colors mid gesture and looks up at him, at their nearness, then finally steps back.

“I wasn’t,” the stranger finally speaks, voice low and gruff. He’s still fighting the change and it shows. “Was trying to save you,” he adds, mumbling like a disgruntled child. He’s also red, she realizes. Well, she had invaded his personal space.

“I’d hardly call shoving me aside in the middle of a fight ‘saving,’” she scoffs. “You could have gotten us both killed.”

“I didn’t though.” He shrugs slightly, shoulders now more furry than not, though his face is still mostly human and his wide eyed bewilderment has been replaced by an expression blank with seeming apathy. Not that he can hide the turmoil within his soul so easily. “You’re not hurt, I’m not hurt, so what’s your problem?”

“Why are you following me?” Maka has never been one to beat around the bush.

For a moment, the stranger says nothing, and the silence of the night presses in on them. They’re essentially alone, and Maka is reminded that if he wants to make a fight of this, she might not come out of it alive given that his powers wax as hers wane.

Just as she’s about to press, he breaks the stillness. “I was curious. I saw you, saw the creatures you fight, and wanted to know what the fuck was going on.” His face rests in a state of carefully schooled impassivity.

Any thought to question his explanation dies with a quick sweep of his soul. He is curious, he’s not lying, though there’s more. Maka wishes she could get at the more beyond the sheer feeling of need, of desperately seeking, of a missing piece, but none of that makes sense–not even to him, she thinks, if the confusion bound with it all is anything to go by.

Part of her wishes that her mother weren’t so strong within her on nights like this, that she could follow her vampire instincts screaming at her to fight, could ignore that fae ability, that need to understand. Fighting is cleaner, simpler.

But she is who she is, and Maka cannot dismiss him simply as enemy when his essence broadcasts otherwise so loudly, so she sighs instead.

And then she looks again, lips pursed in puzzlement. He’s finally winning his battle–sort of. The fur is mostly gone, and his feet are feet rather than paws, though his canine ears remain atop his head and the beginnings of a tail still moves behind him. The level of concentration he keeps just to maintain so much of his human form rolls off him in waves, and Maka has to admire his sheer will even if she knows nothing else about him.

As his face resumes its humanity completely, she also realizes that she recognizes him, and suddenly the fact his soul reads as vaguely familiar makes sense.

Maka has met him before. Once. She’d entered a music store in the quest for the perfect birthday gift for Liz, and he had helped her. He’d been fully clothed then, of course, wearing the habitual uniform of a bored slacker stuck in a low wage job–ripped jeans, band tee, grey beanie mostly covering oddly pale hair. The man had seemed strange then, and Maka had puzzled over his odd soul for perhaps a minute before dismissing him as yet another lost, harmless supernatural being that called Death City home. The fact that he’d not read as a threat in the daylight meant he was not her concern. Not a demon and not on the list meant not her problem. And anyway, he’d steered her towards some obscure jazz album on vinyl Liz had absolutely gushed over later, so in the end, she’d figured he was an asset to their fine, if odd and currently besieged community.

That was four days days ago. That was before she realized that the helpful, if sarcastic and guarded mystery supernatural music shop slacker also happens to be her stalker of four nights running.

“You.” She narrows her eyes. “I know you.”

“I don’t think–” he holds up his hands in a placating gesture though his face is still carefully blank. His soul is such a soup of chaos and feelings that she gives up even trying to read it.

“The music shop,” Maka cuts him off. “Oblivion Records? You helped me.”

“I helped you.” He’s blinking at her but his face reveals nothing, voice flat.

“My friend loved the album, by the way. Kept going on about how rare it is and how getting it on vinyl is so much more authentic. Sirens, I swear.” Her eye roll is involuntary and far too familiar for the situation, so she schools her own features into neutrality.

“It really is, though,” he begins, then probably remembering just who he’s talking to, then realizing something else, he sputters out, “wait, sirens? What the fuck do sirens have to–did you call the cops or something? Shit.”

The man looks ready to bolt and Maka is far from done with him, still knows nothing about him beyond what her senses tell her. Hell, she doesn’t even know his name, hadn’t caught it in their first encounter.

“Wait!” she practically shouts as he begins to move back, a single nervous step, and to her utter surprise, just as before, he actually does. Maka steps closer again, close enough to grab his wrist to hold him if necessity demands. She needs answers. “Just–who are you?”

“Soul.”

It’s a single word, gruffly spoken, and she can sense his nervousness, how much he just wants to go.

“What?” It’s her turn to blink.

“My name,” he elaborates, seeming used to the reaction. “It’s Soul.”

“I’m Maka,” she offers automatically before she thinks better of it. She’s the one with the questions here–she owes him nothing. “Why have you been following me?”

“I already told you–I was curious.”

“And did stalking me get you any answers?” Her hands move to her hips again.

“I wasn’t–I mean–I wouldn’t–” he sputters.

“You were. So?”

Soul manages to regain his mask of neutrality after a moment and shrugs. “Not really. They’re nasty, and you fight them. But I still don’t know what the fuck they are.”

“Kishin,” she says, using the old term. “Humans who have eaten the souls of other humans for power. You might call them demons.”

“And you fight them?”

“And I fight them. That satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yeah.” He looks thoughtful and conflicted all at once, and Maka still doesn’t have her answers, but dawn will be on the horizon too soon–she’s running out of time. Maybe she should just steer him to Blake. He seems clueless more than anything, and Blake really should be the one to handle another wolf in his territory.

Before she can reply, though, he speaks again. “What if I wanted to help?”

There’s a resolve in his tone that’s new, and her attention snaps to his eyes, intense, red, before the sound of a siren breaks her concentration. Maka turns her gaze away for a moment to gauge where it’s coming from, to gauge whether there might be a kishin she’s missed in her clear distraction, but it’s just a moment too long.

There’s no kishin, but also no werewolf.

He’s gone.

With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head, scanning around her. His soul is out of range, his speed carrying him past her ability to sense, and she nearly curses before she remembers that she knows where he works.

One way or another, Maka figures she hasn’t seen the last of this new werewolf.

[wanderlust225]

La Ciudad religiosa

Our Airbnb host, Gabriel, noted in a lovely note he left me that the super cool photographs in his apartment were his own work. He was really responsive and gave us a number of good restaurant recommendations, so when he offered a tour of the city and explained his excellent knowledge of the art and history, we took him up on it. After a delicious breakfast at Jerry's, a local cafe where Jerry serves up delicious Ecuadorian food and chats you up in the most friendly manner, Gabriel picked us up in a little blue Toyota hatchback. We drove around the La Mariscal neighborhood and he pointed our Plaza Foch, the big nightlife area. He explained that a lot of the architecture in the nicer parts of the city was early 1900s European, as many Jews fled here ecaping persecution and wanted to build a more familiar city. Mariscal Foch (Marshall Foch) happened to be a French prime minister in the early 1900s, and thus, the area was born. On our way to the first stop we also passed by El Ejido park which had tons of old trees, including a 300 year old cypress! Since I had expressed interest in his art work we first went to el Centro de Arte Contemporaneo de Quito, where they had an exhibition he was included in. The really cool part about his pieces is that he takes double or triple exposure pictures and layers them on top of each other and although he has traveled quite extensively, all the art we saw was from Ecuador. We passed by the enormous gothic church (Basilica del Voto Nacional) I had been blown away by yesterday and he explained that, like many of the curches in Quito, they incorporate both European and indigenous ("indio") elements like gargoyles of wild animals from Ecuador, including alligators, iguanas, armadillos, pelicans, sharks and, of course, tortugas from the Galapagos! On our journey to find parking in the cramped Old Quito area he told us a little about the current politics. It seems the last president, Correa, was extremely corrupt and sold a lot of the country's land and resources to the Chinese (like mining in the Amazon). The Ecuadorian people are very ecologically minded (think, the Galapagos) so the idea that the Chinese are going to come in and ruin their natural resources is tragic. The current president, Moreno, sounded a bit better, but has only been in office for a few months. Interestingly (but maybe not surprisingly), the last mayor of Quito was also corrupt -- but Gabriel admitted that he did a lot of good things for the city, like significantly improve the bus system with larger busses. Our first stop in the Old Town was Catedral Primada de Quito. For me, the most amazing part was that this cathedral has origins back to 1535, when it was a simple adobe house with a clay tile roof and wooden framework. Shortly after, by 1562 it was named the national cathedral and they demolished the old structure and built stone foundations and brick walls but still a clay tile roof. This was on the central square that shared space with the main government building which Stephen noted, and I agree, seemed very accessible. Right down the road we went to the Centro Culutral Metropolitana which had on a sprawling feminist exhibition that showed up in most of the rooms of the 2 block building. It featured artwork by many prominent feminists as well as one by the gorilla girls, who have a famous tagline that 'women shouldn't have to be naked to be featured in the Met.' Good point! Very interestingly, on the rooftop there was a huge block that faced the government building and said, "you will not violate us," apparently in reference to a son of one of the major officials who was convicted of rape. Powerful! Then we arrived at La iglesia de la compania de Jesus and the good old Jesuits had the most extravagently decorated church I have ever seen, literally covered in gold. Every wall and the ceiling was plated in 23 ct gold, except for the area with a statue of Jesus, which was plated in 24 ct gold. Perhaps my favorite part of this church though was that on your way out into the cruel and tempting world, there was an incredible painting that pictured Hell with all of the major sins named and depicted with terrible tortures. Just a reminder to be good when you exit...! The last church we visited (though there were many, many more) was la Iglesia de San Francisco. I know this is a common name but I really do like churches that reminde me of SF. :) To be honest, after the gilded church it was a little tough to get excited about this more normal looking beautiful giant but I did like it's origin. In the legend of Catuna, it is said that the architect of SF was told he would never see it built to completion - so he sold his soul to the devil so he could live long enough to see it finalized - and he did! I guess he wwasn't a very pious man. The plaza this church was on used to be an Incan market and, currently, it's under construction, building a subway for Quito (maybe - Gabriel seemed unconvinced). After all of these churches we were starving so we headed to La Floresta neighborhood which, per Gabriel is the sort of bohemian area - though interestingly is also where all the banks and expensive resetaurants are. Not sure how I square that circle. Regardless, we went to a fantastic bahn mi restaurant because, honestly, you can only have potatoes and corn so many times! It was delicious. In the afternoon he took us to La Casa de Guayasumin who was one of Ecuador's most prolific artists. In his 70 years of paining he painted many leaders like the prince of Spain, Castro and Chavez (in more of a cubist style). He must have charged a pretty penny because his mansion was incredible, up on a beautiful hill in a neighborhood called Bella Vista and filled with priceless art. He decided before his death that instead of passing it all down to his children he preferred to keep everything as it was in his home and open it up as a museum to the public. Even though he was not religious, there was tons of religious art, some extremely sensual pieces next to the religious art (interesting), a few Picassos, a few Goyas (artists that influenced his style, showing the misery of their time), and a number of other artists who I probably should know. Before his death he also comisssioned La Capilla del Hombre (the Chapel of Man) to be built just next to his house to put even more art on display - sadly, it wasn't finished before his death in 1999. The whole estate was very cool to see - mainly because they kept so many things exactly the same as when he was alive - especially his studio in which we watched a movie on him painting a famous spanish flamenco guitar player with, "a face so long and proud and tall that it looked like a never-ending tower." On our way out, we saw a place where they found ancient pots when they were excavating the land to build - guess where the anthropoligist that came to survey the land was from? None other than FAU! After Guayasumin, we headed back to our flat and then to dinner at Zazu, a very stylish restaurant with a yummy tasting menu. For me, the highlights were the crispy grilled octopus and the ginea pig -- in my defense, I didn't really think about the little furry animal until it was being served to me. Oops! The restaurant felt very fancy with waiters watching our every move for a chance to help -- the price point was that of a casual night out in SF, clocking in at $65 per person, including a bottle of nice wine.

[clearlycreativecommunity1]

Card Arte

Hi! I’m Carrie-Ann and I’d like to tell you about my small business, Card Arte, which I started a few years back after making greeting cards as a hobby for many years. It was a little bit scary taking the leap to become self-employed - part of you thinks, “I can do what I love as a job, woooo!” but then the reality sets in, that your hobby is now work; “Oooh, now is that so good?!” There’s a whole load of paperwork and accounts to keep track of – that’s new! But I’ll come back to this later.

 I’ve spent a lot of time trying new things and re-designing old illustrations to make Card Arte what it is today. But I’m still learning and developing my style, which I believe is essential for improvement and to keep things fresh.

 My work starts with a blank piece of paper (which is often a little daunting, but I have an idea of what I’d like my drawings to portray) and a selection of colouring pens / pencils. I sketch ideas down several times then draw the final image and colour it using my preferred medium of artists colouring pens or high quality artists’ pencils, which give a quality finish. My work has developed quite significantly from the early days, when I made cards mostly from card shapes & embellishments, but I always wanted to do something more original. I now draw my own images, which are then scanned, printed, layered and select embellishments are used to highlight the design.

 My love of nature and animals shows through in my work, and often shows that pattern work, bright colours and flowing, connecting lines and shapes inspire me. The “Colore Modello” range of bird cards is a good example. My favourite bird design “Mulberry” is also used in my logo! Another example of pattern work is in the blank pattern greeting cards I design. Living in the North East of England, I’m inspired by the stained glass work in beautiful buildings such as Durham Cathedral. There is much more to be found at Card Arte though: everyday / special occasion cards, postcards, prints, family character portraits, children’s name illustrations & jewellery.

 As well as greeting cards, most of the designs are available as prints –which links to a second page, “Penguin Pebble” (Still a Card Arte page, but it’s little sister – well, it’s little sister that is growing up! I wanted a place to showcase my drawings – something that was more of a creative outlet that had more of a fantasy edge. My love of “geeky stuff”: superheroes, computers, games, books, films is hinted at in both Card Arte and Penguin Pebble. I am merging both pages but will have clear albums to show the change in style.

 Oh, there’s something you might not know about me just yet – unless you’ve seen my page before! I love guinea pigs. I’m crazy about those little fluff balls! Their cute little cheeky ways, individual personalities and how they look like little furry potatoes. Haha! Soooo, I attempted to draw one. It came out good. Much better than I expected! It’s still pretty challenging as it’s so new to me, but a few portraits later I shared them on-line and received a fab response – I was even commissioned to draw people’s piggies. This was terrifying – it had to be exactly right! But it’s such a lovely feeling when it does go well, and you receive lovely feedback from the customer. I have been asked to draw many other special animals for customers. 

 Coming back to my original thoughts about can your hobby become your full time job. There are some days when you just want to draw what you want. After all, that’s why you loved it so much, yeah?! But you can’t. You have commissions to do or a certain style that is popular that you must work on. But you know what, overall you’re always learning and you never know where that commission might lead – it opens up doors to new styles and new ideas, which can be highly motivating & exciting.

 If you’d like to see more from Card Arte, you can find me on facebook or on my website.

 https://www.facebook.com/pages/Card-Arte/251645034874129?ref=ts&fref=ts

www.cardarte.com

Feel free to send me a message at either of the facebook pages or by e-mailing enquiries to info@cardarte.com