#I know it's not technically art but what else am I supposed to call it

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 18: JoeHills. Today's style/medium is puppet-making! Or mostly sewing with a few other things thrown in. I had a ton of fun with this one, even though it took...so much time to make. I usually explain why I chose a certain medium but this one is...pretty self-explanatory, I think. If you have any Joe clips you want to see a puppet show of, send them my way! Details, materials, and a couple more pictures under the read more.

Materials: this pattern by Abby Glassenberg and all of its required components (minus the eyes), googly safety eyes from Amazon, baby clothes from a local thrift store, and white fabric paint.

I was originally going to try to get doll clothes to dress the Juppet in, since I didn't want to sew the outfit from scratch, but couldn't find any that were quite right. After a couple unfruitful trips into stores, I stopped by a local children's thrift store and poked around their newborn and preemie section until I found an orange onesie and gray jacket/cardigan that were close enough to the right colors. I know the jacket on Joe's skin is probably a hoodie, given the pocket placement, but surprisingly, few people seem to be manufacturing hoodies for newborn babies. Once I got home, I hacked off the bottom of the orange onesie, hemmed it, and painted the at symbol on the back with fabric paint. The front (now back) still says "daddy's mighty guy" with a picture of two dinosaurs on it and that amuses me greatly.

The puppet pattern itself was a little tricky, and there were a couple spots that I think could have used some more explanation, but I made it through. In hindsight, I wish I'd used bigger eyes, but I couldn't find safety eyes (the kind that pokes through the fabric and gets secured with a washer) in a larger size and the style I wanted, and I didn't want to just glue regular googly eyes on because I was worried it wouldn't be sturdy enough (and the edges might look messy). I ended up having to hot glue the felt pieces to the inside of the mouth, even though the pattern recommended normal craft glue for that part, because it would not stick no matter what I did. If I were to make the pattern again, I'd probably try to sew the roof of the mouth and tongue pieces onto the pink felt before attaching it to the head, rather than gluing them on after.

Honestly, there are a lot of things I would do differently if I were to make another puppet, but I'm pretty proud of how this one turned out, especially for my first time doing something like this! I just. have a Juppet in my house now. I don't know how to feel about this. I know this is a pretty complicated piece, so if you have any additional questions, feel free to message me (or send an ask, or reply to this post, or send the message by carrier pigeon--whatever floats your boat).

[salchat]

So, here's another Dean. This one's in neocolor crayon, which are very soft crayons - you can use water with them, but I haven't here, because the paper's newsprint and it would fall to pieces very quickly if I used water.

While I was drawing, I was pondering various arty matters. Mainly, how some art/craft posts - mostly on Facebook rather than here - irritate the hell out of me. You know the ones. Where there's some amazing piece of art/craft, but the caption is something like, 'please be kind - it's my first time!' When it's blatantly not their first time, unless art and craft is just plain easy, which it isn't. Anyway, I'm not sure why people make those posts - for others to comment how amazing they are? I suppose. But it must be pretty hollow to receive such compliments. Unless it really is their first time. And even then...

So, anyway, it made me think, why do I post my art? What exactly do I get out of it? Do I do it to receive validation in the form of compliments? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, but I just wanted to be really honest with myself. And also, why do I make art in the first place and why this particular type of art, drawing the same characters over and over?

Well, I think I draw for the same, or similar reasons that I write - because it's my own world, that I can control. There's comfort there, isn't there? And comfort in the characters I draw and write about - they're not called comfort characters for nothing, after all. And they're beautiful, aren't they? They're just damn beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to draw them?

So, I guess I want to pour my love into creating something beautiful, or as near beauty as I can get. And I choose to do that with my crayons or my charcoal or my pastels because I love those things too - their colours, the way they spread, the way you can make big, soft marks or sharp, dark marks, the way you can smush them around with your fingers, the way you can just mess about and sometimes it doesn't work and sometimes you get an amazing effect that you didn't know was possible. I love drawing randomly, roughly, searching and searching until I find what I want.

But why post online? Hmm... Well, yes, it is nice when people think what I've created is technically skilful. I have an ego that likes to be stroked, same as anyone else. But if that was the only reason, I'd probably cheat. Some people do. And if that makes them happy, who am I to criticize?

Anyway, I think what I'm after is connection, which is in no way an original thought. That's what makes fandom so wonderful, isn't it? The way you can find connections with other people all over the world. I think when I post, I'm looking for people who love the same kinds of things that I do - the same characters, obviously, but also the same kind of approach to art. The colours and the roughness, the playfulness and the 'continuing mission' to find beauty. I think I post in the hopes that someone will see my art and think, 'hey, I like that.' And that they'll feel a little spark of joy.

I think that's what all our fan creations are about. You get the firework of joy and excitement that goes off when you create your story or your picture and then, around the fandom world, other people get a spark struck from your joy. Which is pretty flowery stuff, but, hey - I'm a writer, aren't I?

That's enough rambling. Nearly. Because I also want to do the thing I often do, which is totally anti the 'it's my first time!' kind of posts. This is very far from my first time and I want you to see the crappiness of my progress shots, because it's important to know that there's almost always a lot of crappy stages before you reach something you consider beautiful. Not perfect. I'm not after perfection, which is impossible anyway, and I would never say any of my stuff is perfect because it's far from perfect and I don't want that - I want life and humanity and striving toward something.

I'm gonna shut up now, because there are burgers to be cooked and chocolate cake to be eaten, and hey! Doctor Who's on soon! Bye!

[swords-of-a-soilder]

I've sleep on it here's my beef

If you wanna log in to participate in a event that fine, I get for some CC's purgatory 2 isn't lore (I mean it clearly is, but some players are choosing not to involve it in their lore.) But when you've made the discussion not to take part in the lore you can't ask about it on screen.

I literally got confused when someone told me bad had a reason and to check there lastest reblog, thinking the book gave them the reason and apologising, this fully left me thinking that the residents where told to return home until I was discussing with someone else and realized I fully misread that (I need to wear my glasses more TBh)

But this play apart of the problem because what I except was a lore reason and I went looking for it, just to find out later there is no lore reason bad just calls himself vactionbadboy halo when he wants to log in.

Look I get playing purgatory for fun, I get wanting to log in to see your friends, Tubbo did it, and Pac did it; but the difference with them being they made up a reason to be there (the boat didn't leave) is a completely valid reason.

I can see them going home and then later being drag back to the boat by the incompetent egg Island workers, but jumping back and forth to the island in the middle of purgatory is problematic.

If you don't want to take part in the lore then don't, don't ask questions about what's happening lore wise (on stream he can always inquire in dms ) , don't do things on the Island that messes with other people's lore or breaks the immersion make it easy for the actual people who care about the lore; Ie: fan fiction writers, artists, role players (I am all these things) to pretend you're not there!

This sounds dumb but I genuinely, when lore is happening take note of every little the to go "how can I explain this in lore, how could I enhance this in lore" to help with my fan art or fan works.

Genuinely I have a list of game mechanics,(chat, tabs list, death messages) and have written ways to explain them in lore, so you can imagine my annoyance when someone who isn't supposed to be involved ask questions fresh of a lore event.

I think the confusion to add to it is that Phil has been trying to do more improv on the spot right now rp; like leaving cuucurhoo the notice of the eye guy and keeping his webcam on until a big event ( and I love him for that, genuinely I love lore so much because it feeds art and fan fiction)

But I feel like im being taken a fool when someone who isn't technically supposed to be there asks questions about something they're not supposed to be awear of and even bounces of it like they're in lore "yeah it looks like we're going to war with you guys." we who? You're supposed to be Vacation halo, you aren't in purgatory right, if so how did you get home?!

Get what I'm saying? It sucks because everyone else so far seemed to-do A decent job of staying out of lore if they want to visit some committing to not coming back to the island at all (cough* bolas *cough ) .

If you don't wanna take part in the lore don't complicate the already existing lore, it annoynes me greatly.

I don't mind the attenting events so much, it's the fail rping of discussing something you shouldn't know not long after it happened. (Metagaming)

[manaofflame]

This is some pre-canon one-shot fic practice that may be implemented into the comic. I only made this because of the new art I did, which is below. Some art note, I am just trying out various color profile view thing that the digital art application I used have, because I'm not sure if I'm bad at coloring and choosing color or it's the color profile, I don't know, just trying things out. Siffrin is not a good candidate for this, since his color palette is black and white, oops, but I'm trying stuff out and improving... I hope... Uh, I hope you enjoy!

(Warning: Nothing morbid like blood or worse, but just for people who likes good grammar. I'm bad with past, present and future tense, so, sorry about this. Also, I am bad at remembering some vocabulary, even some basic words! So the writing can feel... simple. Anyway, that's all!)

Sorry for another interruption, this is just in case some technical error happen. You see, some times, when I tried to create some paragraph spacing in the middle of all of these words, some of the paragraphs just straight up vanished and never came back, at least in my screen it doesn't. So I'm not sure if when I post this, those paragraphs will pop out of nowhere. If it does, I will see if I can deal with it. Not sure if this is a common problem, but it happened to me.

Mirabelle is feeling very anxious and nervous. Recently, they had retrieved the fourth orb after a hard battle with the sadness that guards it. With one left to go, their journey is nearing to it's end.

She hadn't been able to sleep, so she decided to take a walk around, to calm herself down.

She stopped suddenly when she spotted Siffrin, looking up at the night sky, looking at the stars again (she's not sure why he likes to do it. She supposed it's pretty, but she felt that there's more to it than simple observation).

She shouldn't be surprise or startled to find Siffrin in the dead of night, and seeing no one is awake right now (or outside like they are), she...

"Siffrin." She softly called out to Siffrin, trying not to startle him, though it seems he already noticed her presence. He's very good at sensing presence amongst the party, it's what allowed him to find Bonnie that time when the rest of them didn't noticed the child.

"Mira, shouldn't you be in bed?" Siffrin asked.

"I should, but I can't sleep. And so should you. I know you like being up at night, but... it's not healthy, being up at night all the time, and we need to be ready and good to go to keep journeying, and... and..." Mirabelle tries to find more answers, but she ran out of it.

"...Mira, you are worried... Why?" Siffrin asked, looking concern. Mirabelle feels a bit jealous that Siffrin is not feeling anxious or worried about this journey at all. She wished she had that kind of confidence. Still, despite that, Mirabelle knows by now, from the time she journeyed with him alongside with everyone, that he's a kind and caring person.

Despite her initial worries due to his mysterious aura and other factors when he first joined, Mirabelle is glad to asked him to join her and help her to save Vaugarde when he saved her and everyone from that powerful sadness.

"I'm.. just worried. We are closing in the end of the journey, there's only one orb left to get before we head to Dormont to get to the House Of Change to defeat the King, but... what if something happen?!"

"Mira."

"What if... one of us die? What if they are crippled permanently for life? What if... What if..."

"Mira, stop. Listen to me."

Mirabelle stops, looking at Siffrin, who's looking at the stars with pained expression, as if thinking of some unpleasant things like memories or something else. He then turns to Mirabelle with a reassuring face.

"It will be alright, Mira. I won't let anything happen to anyone. I won't. Isa, Odile, Bonbon, and you. I won't let anything happen to you." Siffrin declared with a small smile.

...She knows. Siffrin would look out for everyone, and lead everyone to safety, disarming traps and looking out for enemies, making sure nothing bad happen to them.

"..Thanks, Siffrin. I suppose I should stay positive! No need to bring down the morals." Mirabelle replied with a smile, feeling a bit better.

"No problem, I hope it helps." Siffrin hides beneath his hat. Is he being shy again? Cute!

Mirabelle hopes nothing bad will happen to her or anyone, and of course, Siffrin. He's her and their friend after all! She now feel like she could go back to sleep now. She hoped one day she could hug and group hug with Siffrin, but due to his weird aversion to touch as Odile called it, she sadly could not. She hoped one day she could though.

[canmom]

another night where i can't sleep...

it has long felt like, while in some respects certain things have come easy to me that most people find difficult, such as maths or computer shit or academic writing, in many other respects the rest of the world had a ten year head start on me. stuff like relating to other people, stuff like art and music, the basic activity of living. it's The Autism, and it's the habits I've accrued over the years.

head in the clouds, full of knowledge and theories and technical this and that, still that smoldering anger that's so abstract, aimed at the nature of the world and all the things that i don't know how to change. personally... i write and write and write on here, because i know how to write, i know how to talk about, i can expound and extemporise, but i feel like so often i don't know how to emerge from behind the scripts I've built up for navigating this or that situation, my ignorance of how I'm seen and what messages i give off, the idea of whatever it is people interpret me as (even those very close to me), and just... connect. see and be seen.

when i get the right kind of work of fiction, it feels like... at last, I've found someone who thinks in a way that i understand. this is what is so intoxicating about seth dickinson's books i think. the earnestness of the feelings that animate them, the way they construct people and motivations, the web of philosophical and scientific and emotional connections, the rhythm as they unfold into a desperate searching for the right question, the wicked humour and abrupt violence and the type of body horror imagery that they reach for. all of it feels like I've finally found someone who gets it. that's why i go crazy about it.

(and it means the world what seth has said about my articles - it feels like a mission.)

i don't know if i can expect anyone else to get what i get out of them. there are criticisms you can make - what i take as fearlessness you might call arrogance, overambition. my partner found it too sincere, too direct and 'mannered' in laying out what it's addressing. these are a matter of wanting different things, i suppose. it's not that i can't see why they say it, i just don't see any of it as a flaw.

but... because I've found that connection, because i want to reach back and say, i see what you're doing, i get it, i feel it too - i write the long exegesis articles, to hold it up to everyone and say look, see, this is how it works.

the last article in the series on The Tyrant Baru Cormorant was to be titled Replication, and it was supposed to attempt to ask how to draw out the spark that animated such books into existence. i had an outline in my mind, to talk about the fingerprints of sff culture of the 2010s and how it affected me and perhaps also seth - and about the determination to take the questions seriously, to push and push. the vulnerability to lay your soul bare.

but from there? i don't know what the answer is, only that i haven't managed to do it with any of the things I've created. what is my baru cormorant, my psycho nymph exile or serious weakness, my nier? what is the thing that only i can make, that will resonate with other souls in the dark? am i getting closer?

I'll keep searching.

I'm halfway through Exordia. i don't know how much I ought to say before the book comes out 'for real', but I'll definitely be writing a spoiler-light advance review. I'm so hooked. i can't sleep, even though i have to work tomorrow. it's 'just a book', but... it's what it's all about.

[fagidarity]

ok im silly and obsessed with your art so i wanted to ask you about it!

i really love your shading on art, the layering and different colors is very well done! do you have any feedback on how to do rendering and shading? cause i know nothing about it

im also curious about your anatomy, its accurate but also very unique between characters! do you mind doodling like... how your format it? u know what i mean???

NEXT I WANT TO ASK! ABOUT YOUR OUTFIT IDEAS!! where do you get your inspiration for those beautiful fucking designs?

on the drawing you made of shrimp mariana being held by charlie, im curious about how you did the filtering to make it like. fuzzy but still clear???

last but not least, what application do you use for drawing, and which pens do you use?

sorry for all the questions but your art is a very big inspiration for me and i want to be as talented as u ^^💦

this got really fucking long and i don’t even know if it’s particularly helpful but LETS GO

—

OKAY SO. shading, thing i am apparently accidentally really good at. it’s probably the thing i’ve gotten compliments on the most over the years which is funny because it’s probably the thing i’m Least confident that i can do well. therefore i can’t really give a tutorial but i can give a bunch of disjointed notes

(shown above is my Default Shading, further examples of different lighting below)

everything else under the cut or this is gonna be a mile long

i like using blue for shading, yellow/orange for lighting but generally you can just make them opposite/complimentary colours to each other and that’ll work. cool shadows, warm light or warm shadows, cool light. you get it. that’s a general rule there’s probably exceptions. i will say i hate using purple for shadows but that’s a personal preference (as is every colour i use being so saturated lol)

the orange around the edges is supposed to be subsurface scattering on skin but i put it on all the edges because i like how it looks 👍

yes there’s two different bounce lights. idk why i do this. i also just think it looks nice. i guess the one on the shading layer is more for form and the one on the lighting layer is more for the yk. lighting? anyways the first one is just a lighter version of the shading colour the second one is darker and slightly hue shifted (depending on the lighting scenario — it can be brighter if the situation calls for it)

the reason i don’t just shade around the edges is because it can make things look very flat which is the opposite of what you want when shading. sometimes it can just go on the edges in some specific scenarios but i like my shadows Chunky. basically having it go over the form instead of just along it can help show that form more

top left - night time | top right - bisexual? | bottom left - spotlight i guess? | bottom right - default/daylight again, just wanted to show a shape example

something i’ll also do a lot is have a separate multiply layer that’s just one colour and i’ll throw that over the whole thing to get the base colours correct for the lighting scenario. some people do it by eye but i am lazy so i cheat 👍 often it’ll be the same as the more detailed shadow colour but as with the top right example sometimes it’s different

shadows are either on multiply or linear burn, lights are either on add (glow) or glow dodge. depends on what looks best. same with opacity, i don’t have any real rules there

i also LOVE harsh lighting but that’s just a me thing. UMMM i can’t think of anything else to say

—

so next is ANATOMY okay this is also something i’m not super confident with lol but i can give some more disjointed notes by just redlining my own sketches lol

the uuuh “bottom of boobs is 2/3 down the ribs” isn’t technically correct? if ur drawing someone with big boobs and no bra on they’re probably gonna go lower but that’s kinda. where they come out from i guess. i also don’t think the “ribs” i draw are technically accurate but it works for a reference point

arms are a diamond (the shoulder.. muscle.. thing… idk what it’s called) and then some Tapered Tubes idk they’re not super complicated. if you wanna get more into it go google buff people and trace/redline their arms that’s how i learnt orz and uuuh i kinda also have the taking up 2/3 of the ribs but a bit Above. the way i’ve worded that makes no goddamn sense i’m bad at explaining this

ANYWAYS yeah bodies are just shapes if you want ppl to look unique just squash or stretch out the shapes 👍 and also learn actual anatomy stuff that always helps. my final message: learn to draw fat people it is no more difficult than drawing thin people

—

OUTFITS i love outfits. i have a pinterest board where a lot of my inspo comes from and it’s a section within a bigger board so ig i’m just giving you my whole inspo board. here (it’s the one called character fashion) (i do not condone art being reposted on pinterest without artists permission just ignore how much i have saved)

pinterest in general is good for outfit design stuff as long as you know where/how to look. u could also try fashion blogs and stuff

ummm a lot of stuff does just come from my own head tho, like based on clothes i like or vaguely inspired by stuff i’ve seen before. if you look through the board you can also see that like i rarely ever copy stuff directly i kinda just use whatever stuff i find as a base to work from. just find stuff you like and go from there i guess, i sometimes like picking a specific subculture or fashion style for a character and seeing what i can make from that (like missa is emo/scene, slime is like some kinda ravecore thing?? idk)

—

OKAY i’m assuming you mean like the glowy effect? makes everything look Soft?

(idk if u can even see the difference here orz also ignore how many fuckin layers i use i’m a mess) (the top layer is that catboy missa doodle i did ignore that too)

this is something i do on Most drawings to the point i have an auto action set up for it. duplicate the entire drawing (on csp the easiest way is to just merge visible to new layer), gaussian blur to like ? idk i think it’s 40% or something? i don’t remember, set that layer to soft light and lower the opacity

if that’s NOT what you meant feel free to send a follow up question LOL

OH actually if u mean the colour jitter stuff on the . colours. that’s not a filter i was just using a brush with slight hue jitter on i was Experimenting

—

AND FINALLY i use clip studio paint on my ipad and most of the brushes i use on the reg can be found here

favourites are the ones i made (i actually have more of those i need to upload—) and the raz sketch ones 👍 namely raz sketch (thick) with the density turned up a bit from the default, been using that a lot for lineart

[azuresins]

*Builds a blanket fort, crawls inside, puts up a sign that says "Grelle Haters/transphobes do not interact with this post I am TALKING TO MYSELF PLEASE BE NORMAL THANK YOU*

This was pointed out a long, long time ago but it's never left my mind.

One thing I do miss about the anime adaptation S1, are a few of the filler-moments and Grelle interactions, specifically during the time when Grelle and Ciel were 'teaming up'... Ciel promised Grelle that if she helped him, Grelle could do anything they wanted with Sebastian.

And Grelle's immediate response was "...Even a kiss/kissing?" ... people, and even people who have worked on kuro content like the musicals, Season 2 (GODDDD), and other random material that's technically official... have been kind of quick to paint Grelle as this huge scary pervert, simply because what... They're outside of gender norms and that's what makes them predatory? Not that I dunno, they befriended a serial killer, and killed people who weren't supposed to die?

Ciel seemed pretty happy to allow Grelle full permission and access to do whatever they wanted with Sebastian and it doesn't really matter if he intended to make good on the promise or not, the point is all Grelle asked for was a kiss. They didn't ask to fuck him, some hot and steamy night or whatever (and we all know Sebastian fucks) they only asked for a simple kiss.

That's pretty innocent, all things considered. I think... she talks a big talk and walks a big walk, but she's probably a virgin, and after the laughs deep down she's actually extremely careful with her body, and who she takes to bed. IF she takes anyone to bed- I'm not actually sure she does, or not. I haven't seen a TON of fanwork, reflecting that very often and I can't say I blame fans for reacting that way because there's so much Grelle content out there but not much of it is connected to Manga canon at all... I just feel like that was a nice choice, on the part of the writers of S1.

It also warmed my stupid cold heart when Grelle stumbled upon a baby crying during the fire in london, and knelt to acknowledge it and tell it that she's not allowed to take it's life, just yet. People I think misunderstood that interaction and assumed they were being cruel or something-- I interpreted it as them acknowledging the infant and gently telling them, it wasn't their time, therefore it's possible someone else off camera rescued the baby and it got to live it's life. Some people are just really quick to assume the worst of them and I'm pretty sure 'degenerate' has been used to describe them before and I don't think that's fair, and I also don't see it.

When people pointed out in the past "but but but but Grelle tries to touch people without permission!" I take it with such a fat fucking huge grain of transphobic salt, because Madame Red full on rubs Sebastian's entire ass, RACHEL thought nothing of squeezing her own sisters tits, Sieglinde gropes Our!Ciel, I have NO idea whats going on with "Freckles/ Freckle Face" and their gender but they takes Our!Ciel's hand and make him grab their tit, and then there's all the filthy things Sebastian does. Not to mention the actual cultists/rapists, and kelvin who is an actual disgrace and sick fuck and Lao????????? I'm?????

Grelle all things considered is like THE LAST person in this manga I'd call a pervert. I know S1 isn't canon, and the plot kind of went off the rails... but I actually really liked those choices. PUT THEM BACK. 😠

In the manga and in official art drawn by Yana, I've noticed over the years Grelle has been drawn significantly more feminine, people who have never seen Grelle before can look at these pictures and not distinguish them from a cis woman... and I think that's a very nice choice, I just hope that we get more canon interactions with Grelle on a bit more of a personal level the way we did in S1, seeing as they're one of Kuro's more popular characters.

I find it an interesting choice that Othello has been just about the only character shown so far, that appears to be the most gentlemanly/respectful of her (and also hasn't tried to fight her/beat her lol) and for that reason... I think they're kind of cute, together and I hope they continue to be teamed up even if Grelle doesn't appear impressed or interested, I simply... can not unsee it. I am looking, I am NOTICING... very hard, and very respectfully in that ships direction even if it's kind of a rarepair and one-sided on Othellos part.

If William can stop beating her up for comic relief, that'd be great... but maybe I hope for too much. I think it'd be super, super, super funny if Grelle was gone for a few months, completed their transition and suddenly William fell all over his own ass and turned into a stuttering moron (because shes too beautiful) she was just, "Hiiii Will~ Gonna hit me again for filing my paperwork late? God forbid women do ANYTHING." And he was just. "Uh. --I'm.. -- No. That's enough. ////" I can see it very vividly in my head.

Anyway every time I talk about Grelle I get some weirdo in my askbox but I've been holding these thoughts in for quite some time...//////////

[arainmorn-art]

A test task I've done right when I got sick, four days ago, so it feels a bit like a fever dream, how I was maniacally drawing, modelling and texturing 3 days in a row. And the final piece has this feverish vibe, I think x) So, the theme was a retrofuturistic dieselpunk+atompunk bomb shelter's atrium leading to living rooms. I didn't know there is a whole genre called atompunk, but apparently good old Fallout series is a part of it. And also it was told that the main focus would be the wall, ceiling, floor and railings design. You have 3 days to make it using any medium. I've decided to use my 2D-concept art skills + modest 3D Blender somewhat skills + aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand my new passion, making procedural textures in Substance Designer, which I've started to learn and use about a 1,5 month now. I thought, let's mix useful and pleasurable, shall we? The best way to learn something is learning it on the field. Come on, I've learned Photoshop while drawing my first picture book in uni, it works.

First thing first is to find the whole vibe. I'm by far not an architecture expert, most of my life I've been drawing characters, but the thing I've learned about it that there should be a pleasing repeated pattern of shapes to look at. As it doesn't suppose to look natural\organic, there should be a decent amount of straight lines, so it will look manmade. And it's freakin' hard to find this fine line between atompunk and regular sci-fi and I don't think I've managed it. But that's the thing with test tasks, what matters is: • the amount and diversity of variations you provide • your desicion making to show what you as a professional think works best • your ability to turn any variation into a project • your determination to finish it Even if your choice might not fit the project one employer has in their mind, other potential employers will see your work too and might find it fitting for their projects.

My idea was to create a wall of doors that will also be a tileable wall texture that I'd do in Substance Designer. I was so thrilled about it as I was so inspired by so many tutorials on Youtube and Artstation how it would be fun to do my first sci-fi panel...

...and oh my friggin' gosh it took me 6h in one sit to make it. I was so focused I think I've rarely breathed, my shoulder was aching and burning form tension, it was about 01:00 am and I was slightly panicking if I could finish everything else. It was the end of a day 2, I've spent 1.5 day on concept arts and this door. But still I was determined, as having a clear idea what to do (concept-art) and a tile that will cover 1\3 of the final piece (doors) is already a lot. Everything else can be improvised on the go. I've tested my door texture in Blender, was relieved it works and went to sleep. And I was also getting slightly cold and coughing a little, but I haven't thought about it.

When I have a goal, I even wake earlier than usual. It's a day 3, I must put everything in it. So after a really challenging for a texture novice like me door creating a floor tiles was like walk in the park. It was fun, not painful and done before the noon, so I was confident in myself. And I've began my blocking in Blender. It is not by any mean a sophisticated 3d-modelling as a true 3d-artist would do. If any professional 3d-artist looks inside my Blender kitchen, their hair would turn grey. I do the same when I model my scenes for Deciphering comic: if it looks right, than it works for me. In game development production it's also the case that concept artist's models are only a reference for 3d-artists, so if you are a concept artist you can just don't bother about how technically disasterous and wrong in terms of wireframe and polygons your models could be.

Slightly unreasonable tangent: Blender, why are you such a bitch when it comes to spiral stairs?! WHY? Why, you caprisous shmack, what the matter with you, why can't you do a decent spiral stairs in the first try?! Why every time I'm doing the spiral stairs I have to pull my hair from the head, dance with drums and shout curses at you, and you still do it through you digital asshole?! So... yeah. My initial idea with a solid staircase went to the trashbin as I couldn't handle mine and Blender's temper and there've been not so much time left, it was around 8 pm. So I was thinking on my foot how I could turn it into something that looks like a designer desicion and not rushed last minute one, but yeah, I've failed it. I've also find out that I got sick and had a high body temperature. Yay!

By the way, stained glass looking texture on walls was an accident. When I was testing my door texture, I've made a mistake an applied it on the whole bloking area. It stretched across everything in an ugly way, but... this screen pattern looked good. Surprisingly good. It would be a crazy idea to have a glass walls in the suposed bomb shelter, but... damn it looked interesting. So I've created a new texture just for this part. Yeah, design over functionality, that's how it gets born, that's how it goes. Just some happy accidents.

Then I've figured it would be a right time to do a fast concepts for railings... but my tablet decided to not respond. I've tried to install new drivers, checked eveything, lost an hour on it and decided: f*ck it, I'll finish it with my mouse if I must. Luckily I still had my Samsung Galaxy tablet so I quickly doodle some designes for railings. But composing the final concept art was still going to be done by mouse.

This is when I've accepted that this is more a steampunk-ish train station with a bit of 60s than a bomb shelter and let it go. We have high ceilings? Let's have polls to the roof. No, let's also have a balcony under the roof. Let's have an elevator with glass and metal ornaments. Let it be more retro than futuristic! Can you hear I had a high temperature and feverish determination? I've made several Eevee shots as they were fast to render and compose.

And a Cycles engine one for a better presentation. As my tablet died, there wasn't much I could paint over it, but I've tried to hide a couple of rendering mistakes. Mostly it was just about composing rendering maps, masks and filters in Photoshop - and I also was close to my limits as it was 02:30 am when I've finished it.

It looks a bit as this whole location is underwater, but it's fine. Brings some mystery to it. Next morning I've send and still haven't received any answer. But it's alright, if they don't find it fitting, and decline. It's actually happened to me several times, when my test tasks for one company is liked by other one. That's not the main case I'm talking about. Every now and then an artist should do some kind of challenge, as only challenging yourself you learn something new. It's a never-ending journey and that's the beauty of art, it's not just a job, it's a way of life. And gee I've learned several things during this one! It may look like a screenshots from 2000s oldschool videogame, but hella I love old school videogames. It may not lead me to a new job in a short run, but in the long one it feels like a one of a millions steps in my art journey and I'm strangely inspired to create more of this obscure kind of environments.

And thanks for reading!

[astrum99]

Human’s inherent desire for understanding, and why angels are a perfect lure. (Rambling)

Humans have studied the art of the mystic for centuries. Before science, literature, and math, there were stories. Because storytelling is what guides us to experience, to learn, to make sense of both experience and knowledge.

Even when we do science, we say: “First, extraction of the sample DNA from the flesh was conducted through the process of centrifuge. Then, PCR was run to amplify the amount of recovered DNA. Restriction endonuclease enzyme was added to the sample, fragmenting DNA into smaller strands. The product was evaluated through agarose gel electrophoresis. 80-150V of electric force pulling the pieces toward the bottom. The shorter the pieces are, the faster they go. So, the DNA separates more, and paints a ladder of bands. You cannot see them. As the last step, you must stain them with fluorescent dye, and only under UV lights can you observe the crude data.”

Temporal. Sequential. Meaningful. This is a story called “DNA fingerprinting”.

The story of magic and godly realms and religion is of the same. They carry teachings (and entertainment). They last through centuries because there is something in them that humanity sees.

Humans are driven by a maddening sense of curiosity and exploration. To make sense of it all. To separate organs from man, to separate cells from organs, to separate DNA from cells, and to do it again, at a smaller scale with enzymes. There is an inherent desire to learn until all is deprived. To become passionate is to be consumed wholeheartedly.

So we sent people to explore the Arctic, the ocean, the sky, the universe. And when they perish, we send more.

The study of death is the same. To see beyond the veil is something impossible, because the dead cannot return. (Well, they technically can, depending on how you define death. If death is the stopping of the heart, then I suppose we are dying, in microdoses, every second of our lives. If death is the cease of memory and autonomy, then I suppose we are dying, in microdoses, every night in our beds.)

(I digress.)

The study of death is attractive because it looks into what we are sure we cannot possibly touch. So we only hope to examine what we can. The maggots that gnaw at the meat, the stillness of limbs in silence, the invasive infestations of bacteria and mold and creatures of all kinds.

The corpse is an afterimage of an experience of both life and death. We can only hope to study the husk and the life that sustains on that husk, hoping it is close enough to touch death.

It is similar to the study of the supernatural in that way. Magic only exists because we do not understand it. That’s why it is so captivating. The creation of a potion in a cauldron is the same as biochemistry. The transformation of forms and elements is the same as fusion physics. The impossible feats of flight were achieved by aeroplanes and carefully measured aerodynamics. There are ghosts born from boring undetected monoxide poisoning.

When we understand, magic loses its… well, magic.

It is similar to the study of religion in that way. Because we are desperately lonely, and we must make meaning, and so magic shall suffice in place of what we do not know and to fill what we do not have. I do not study religion, but I know at least a part of this is true – at least in its origin. The stories of gods, angels, demons, palaces in the sky, monsters in the ocean, a form of thousand eyes and arms and all-knowing and all being and loves like nothing else because we are greedy organisms that crave validation and safety and love and love and love. And we can learn anything it wants us to learn, make it through anything if love and peace are waiting for us at the end of it all. (Though religion, in all its implications, forms, and renditions have changed since then, as well as the interpretations of survived passages.)

I am not a believer in a higher being, nor am I a student of religion, so I cannot speak of all of it. I cannot claim understanding.

I think this is also partially why angels compel me so. They are the beyond. Above reasoning, above logic, in the same realm as the untouchable pureness of undiscovered science, death, magic, and religion.

What stories flow within its (his?) veins? What stories lie dormant in its (his) throat? What stories are etched on the body, the wings, the blade? What stories speak of the beating of its (his) heart and the bleeding of its (his) light? What of the cells, the molecules, the very physics (magic) that binds it (him) together?

Do you speak of the stories of love and despair and violence and hope as we do?

Please, do not answer me.

Because to know is to kill. The utter destruction of the imagination and wonder and passion. To purposefully look away from knowledge is the complete comprehension that understanding makes something die. It brings dullness to love.

So, please, let me see you in my mind’s eye, and nothing more.

[yslsevy]

Virtual Sketchbook Section 1

Discussion 1:  Hello, my name is Yves Feron. In the future I plan on working as an attorney. I would specifically like working in immigration. I am dual enrolled and will be hoping to graduate with my A.A. as well as my high school diploma. A fact about me is that I love drawing, but right now I will say I am on an artist block. I usually take large breaks in between drawing. And then randomly I have the urge to draw out of nowhere.

(Music, Pink and Blue No. 2 by Georgia O’Keeffe in 1918)

The names of O’Keeffe’s paintings are in reference to music, which points to the connections between the visual and the aural. 

Georgia O’Keeffe with idea of music being translated into something for the eye. 

The paint lines and colors all suggest and are inspired by the rhythms and harmonies O’Keeffe perceived in nature and was painted during her exploration of abstraction. 

This artist, in her century, was often misunderstood as people misinterpreted her artwork as psychological depictions of her sexuality, when in reality it was heavily inspired by nature. 

The painting Pink and Blue No. 2 was one of the paintings that helped O’Keeffe gain recognition in the abstract expressionist movement.

I initially thought of this painting as one of those stereotypical artworks that be called technical. I personally don’’t thinks much of the meaning behind it. Afterwords, learning the context of the painting really helped me understand it. Now I think it as a calm depiction of nature because the artist uses soft colors and soft paint lines to make what similarly to maybe a rose in my eyes.

Select a work of art from your life. It must be something that hangs in your house or your room, something that is important to you or that you look at everyday. Include a picture. In paragraph form (4 sentences), tell me about the art – what media were used to create it? What use does it serve? Do you think it is beautiful? Why?

(By: Yves Feron)

This artwork is currently hanged up in my room made on a whiteboard which is erasable and can change at anytime. I use this as a decorative piece in my room, but also it represents a new era in my life. It includes my name and for some reason I always put the alphabet at the bottom. It’s a tradition I do for myself, which I think is is beautiful because it is supposed to be a drawing of me. 

What “baggage” are you bringing along when you look at art? Answer the following questions – How old are you? What is the gender you primarily align with? Where are you from? What is your ethnicity? What do you do for fun? Are you a member of any organized group? Where do you work? What makes you uniquely you? This helps us see from what exact point in the world we view and receive visual information.

I am an 18-year-old female and have lived in Florida all my life, however I was born in the Virgin Islands. I am Black or more specifically Haitian American. I love watching the reality TV Love Island (UK). Their accents make the drama on the show more entertaining. I do volunteer at different places, such as Healthy Teens, which train teenagers to advocates against drugs and alcohol and educates other teens and younger on issues they may deal with on a day-to-day basis. I think my name makes me very unique. I’ve never met anyone else, besides the brand name Yves Saint Laurent, who has my name. Through the information given about me, I believe the baggage I carry when looking at art is trying to take all pieces seriously. Unless the art is easy to understand, I’m more likely to just look at it, rather than appreciate the work the artist put into it. It may be my age and how I don’t really have the patience that comes with age. Also, I tend to take things that affect me or my friends more serious. An example is vaping or mental health which I spend time every week to work against, or even advocating for minorities like me. I tend to not venture out into stuff I do not know about.  SELF PORTRAIT

(By: Yves Feron)

[roseandgold137]

Sorry there are so many but i am sooo curious 👀👀👀

For the fanfic writer emoji asks:

😅🤡😈✍️🎢🎶⛔🌞❌🧐🏆📈🦅👀💞🧠(<- for Tim)🤩🤲🎉⌛🤯

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

hmmm none come to mind immediately bc I mean I’m pretty chill with everything I’ve made existing, but I suppose if I were to write Meet the Family again I’d definitely change a few bits that kinda make me :/ now lol

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

“… Janet had money. And Helena’s birthday was soon… though a summer home seemed a bit extreme. Perhaps just a holiday would be enough.”

every so often I think of this line again and realise I’ll never actually live up to it

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

hmmm if nothing else I think I do plan to be lmao

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

not in the slightest everyone is just lucky if I even give it a second look before posting, that’s why I have to constantly go back and fix misspellings bc I never double check 😅

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Definitely Every Good Gold Digger, I mean it has the most going on (pretty sure it makes up over half of my total word count on ao3) and if you actually stop to consider the premise it’s literally two people that never meet in canon going through the most frustrating speed dating slow burn I can create while also being interspersed with random time jumps so I can tell a story that takes place over several years. So I’d say the rest is pretty tame haha

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Not often actually bc most of my writing actually happens in classes where my background sound is the teacher I should be listening to lol

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

Wire Bird was supposed to get a chapter two but it was frustrating me to no end so I just abandoned it

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

No, just whenever I have the time and motivation I suppose

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Bad parents Jack and Janet drake my beloathed. I can’t even read it without having a physical reaction like literally I get completely thrown out of the story and just need to like cool off 😭 drake defender til I die

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

I start writing and then the research happens on the go 💪💪 I didn’t even know Brassempouy existed before chapter three of EGGD

🏆 What's your most popular fic? 

Based on hits, Every Good Gold Digger. Based on kudos, Meet the Family. But considering EGGD has far more subscriptions by far and also it’s definitely the one I’m more well known for so I’m going to give it the crown

📈 How many fics do you have?

On ao3, 24, and then there’s another from an ask I’ve been meaning to upload, and then there’s various half-finished wips that may or may not turn into anything lol

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

TECHNICALLY some of them have had outlines but very few of them remain true to them so mostly I make it up so long as I have the main story beats in mind

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

still working on the dick kidnapping one, so far he’s on patrol with Bruce and living his best reckless life. In version one anyways. Version two has him already caught and he is a significantly grumpier teen lmao we’ll see which version wins out

💞 Who's your comfort character?

Probably Tim or Janet I’m very partial to them, though Bart definitely appears as my art blorbo he’s everywhere in my sketchbooks so I suppose the three of them. I’m not very good at narrowing things down

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. (Tim)

Ooooo. You know considering how often I think about him this question should probably be far easier but alas. He’s a total mama’s boy, but that’s basically canon, so I won’t count that. I think he ate crayons as a kid, but that’s not a favourite headcanon. I like to imagine him as an animal lover, because I genuinely can’t really imagine someone not like that, so I suppose that would be my favourite, bc it’s the trait I always give him even if I never say it

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write? 

Tim definitely I never stop thinking about him which makes the whole process very streamlined

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

of course I would

“ “We didn’t do much golf, to be honest,” Jack murmured, dropping his head into his hands suddenly. “Janet. Janny. I made out with Bruce Wayne in the golf range bathrooms.” He peeked at her through his fingers. “Stop laughing at me.” ”

I’m just going to leave you all with that 👍👍

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

When I link it to here and everyone gets excited in the notes 💪💪💪 those first five minutes after posting is like ambrosia to me

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

It varies so widely, some chapters get done in a matter of hours meanwhile I’m on like two weeks for this one lmao

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

I mean before I would have said romance but I actually think I’m doing pretty well at it, so maybe action honestly? My strength is definitely slice of life and fluff so sometimes I feel like my action can feel a bit off pace yknow

Thank you so much for the ask <3 it was very fun going through them all :)

[thenamesblurrito]

ask dump... what is this. twelve?

something like that. topics this time include: weather, propaganda songs, catchphrases, living inside a mechanimal, black markets, centipede watch, martial arts, backpacks, paintball, and Rhinox

Cybertron is not a very wet planet, so there’s not actually a lot of precipitation in most places. when there is, it’s definitely water, although often acidic and impure. there’s permanent ice caps at the poles, and it can get cold enough to rain dry ice. wind and dust are more commonly tracked weather patterns than humidity, although high humidity and occasional heavy precipitation still occur, they’re just guided by the planetary weather department. floods are very common in the Rust Sea, since it’s a seasonal floodplain in an endorheic basin. flooding is actually a major problem everywhere else, even though it’s a very rare problem. soil isn’t really a thing, and most of Cybertron is bad at absorbing water, so flash floods can be huge until they find a crack or canyon or porous material to soak through. underground cities especially need to be designed with this in mind

standing out in the rain isn’t actually a big deal for most mecha! water is iffy when submersed in it, but not inherently dangerous. your car will be okay in the rain, but not driving into the ocean, yknow? the average person spending hours in a torrential downpour may end up with some water damage, but it’s not a big worry unless they’re particularly delicate. honestly more people are concerned with acidity rather than water damage! flightframes flying through storms or who live near the poles or higher mountains do have to contend with ice buildup, which is a concern because of wing shape and weight rather than wetness

Velocitron is a desert that sees little to no precipitation, although it isn’t so hot as to be unbearable in SNAP so folks do go out into the sunlight. Caminus has a lot more water and thus wetter weather, Devisiun is two dry planets, and Eukaris actually has proper oceans. Carcer is like a blend of Cybertron’s metals and Velocitron’s rocky desert

yknow i’ve been sitting on this one for awhile and i still don’t know! i’m not well versed in this area tbh. i imagine there are city-state and planetary anthems, historical ballads about the might of the Stratocracy, religious hymns edited to include functionist values as praise, and old folk tunes taken and repurposed as patriotic songs. and of course as their equal opposite there are workers’ songs, old miners chants and spacer shanties, complaints about the government put in a rhyme and a metaphor and hummed on the job, junker ditties traded as a game on the street, and soulful songs calling for the Primes or the Guiding Hand to come sweep away the evils of this world. and all the other types in this marvelous post

of COURSE they do, this is in the ANIME genre! the sort of general faction catchphrases are in this lil chart here, eg the Autobots with the classic “Roll out!” that Optimus says and “Peace by example!” summing up their ideology. i also tried to come up with snappy descriptions for these tech specs that aren’t exactly catchphrases but fall in that same general area. otherwise, i am going to sneak in as many quotes, references, Easter eggs, and Furmanisms as possible

(the post this is referring to)

definitely not very survivable. or, maybe survivable, technically, but not super livable or thriveable. they are animals, not vehicles, and they don’t really turn into vehicles either. so while maybe you could fit inside, idk, ballast tanks, or air sacs, or something, it’s going to be uncomfortable, because you are Inside The Internal Organs Of A Living Creature. you will also definitely be setting off a critical immune response in said living creature bc debris isn’t supposed to be inside there, or worse, parasites. because honestly that’s what you’d be, a parasite. if you want to live comfortably inside a living creature, you’ll have to dig up some fairytales and find a Titan

aafdja;slgheuorjlhfhd the way you phrased this, anon-- jwrgohjjf

there’s certainly organized crime rings, mobs and mafias, and black markets that do focus on the smuggling of contraband or goods or even people. Thunderhoof is definitely not involved with any of these shhhh thanks. Lockdown totally isn’t involved either, and Rum-Maj absolutely has no connections to the underground markets of junkers. actually this is a niche i have Shadow Striker filling but she is so far in the background as to be invisible in SNAP’s story

in general i mean a lot of black market stuff is more illegal than automatically evil? like yes outlawed goods and services could certainly be immoral but they could also just be illegal as a method of control, it will depend on the situation in question. technically mechanimal parts sold for consumption are black market items, which is completely ignored on Carcer. when Maccadam preps a mechanimal dish from Carcer for school lunch, he is absolutely dealing in black market trading. which, cmon, it’s Maccadam. he knows how to skirt the consequences

i think perhaps the biggest arguably “non evil” black market is every junker trader, vendor, and fence. they don’t have functions so they technically aren’t allowed to do any sort of business, but they do anyway, and the illegality automatically makes them the widest spread and most ubiquitous black market. and it’s all like, innocuous stuff to just barely scrape by. recycled stuff out of the trash, scraps and hastily repaired items, maybe some handmade doohickeys. they largely trade amongst one another and very low caste mecha so they don’t risk catching anyone’s attention. they’re doing this for survival and barebones enrichment, not high risk items and giant trades. patronizing a junker market is a good way to support them, theoretically, but if you aren’t already 100% proven ride or die best buddies with a junker, good luck ever finding a market. they are not risking their safety so some strangers can buy their trinkets, that’s how they get empurata’d or worse. the locations vary and the vendors vary and the everything varies all the time, so there’s no real constants i can describe, but perhaps the most wanted items junkers would trade for would be medical supplies, hygiene supplies, fresh energon, and upgrade stockpiles for the gutter children. a communal benefit rather than individual profit

yknow i haven’t really thought about it? i feel like it would be a good insecticon species, and i like the idea of a parasitic/symbiotic relationship, but mecha are pretty averse to other things attaching to their bodies like that. i mean what do you want, a virus or something?? gross! it’d be like wearing a leech as a fashion accessory (and before you ask, no there’s not really any medical usage of these or any other mechanimal, largely due to how they can’t be domesticated and only spottily trained, and there’s just so many better tools to use)

however i think this would fit a niche as a parasite on other mechanimals for certain, especially ones with stiff plating and bulky kibble that can’t get around to pry them off

oh sure! and like there’s established martial arts on Cybertron too, not just on the colonies. it’s an ancient thing that’s not exactly something you can erase within a single totalitarian regime, if only for the outcries of “cultural desecration”. boxing is a thing here, Grandus and Star Upper are both notable boxing champs. fencing is a thing too, Star Saber and Wing both practice fencing as a hobby. there’s this whole post that includes fight dancing. it’s considered distasteful, but it’s also basically the place the excessively violent are shunted off to in order to express their urges and temper their anger. a very patronizing sort of allowance

actual martial arts include all the stuff you see in canon, like metallikato and jet judo. Yoketron is a benefactor of the JAAT and runs a dojo that teaches all the major forms. technically this is just for historical and cultural preservation, and it’s mostly actors, dancers, or athletes who come train under him with the excuse that the physical competence they learn can directly relate to their functions. there are very few, very regulated tournaments or competitions, and anyone looking to become a martial arts master themselves must petition to have their function switched to this specific thing. it’s generally much easier to get into martial arts on the colonies for certain, and on Carcer if you don’t know how to throw a punch by the time you’re a youngling you’re going to get hurt, so there’s definitely fluctuating levels of allowed and expected violence between cultures here. mecha are durable, sure, but two similar frametypes are likely to be fairly equally matched, so minor injuries are okay. the one universally official rule everywhere is no triggering of entrapment protocols

definitely, they don’t all have subspace and even digital things need some physical reader to be stored! typically most grounders have it easy, because trailers like Orion’s are pretty simple to work with, and may function as more than just storage. flight frames often have a little storage space in their own cockpits, like a natural pocket, but any cargo more than that and they’ll find it difficult to tote around, unless they’re a big flightframe with a lot of interior cargo space (which isn’t very common in this canon!). many frametypes have little pockets like this, even beast and toolformers, although it’s not going to manifest as a cockpit

most bags, backpacks, and other personal storage units must be designed to latch onto a mech as another piece of kibble, transforming along with them so as not to inhibit their alt mode or anything. so bags are more like streamlined boxes, manufactured person by person since there’s no standard frametype, and everyone has a size and weight limit simply by their own bodyplan. it’ll vary widely, and i think these personal storage units are a major staple of their “fashion” industry, which focuses on what we’d recognize as clothing maybe only 40% of the time. everyday simple objects like comms or IDs are designed to fit into even very small storage spaces for almost any frametype, and some things can clip on or magnetize to plating for safekeeping in absence of pockets

fsflgjlfjsdsj yeah yeah i think it is! not all paint is good, and not all paint is beneficial, but i think it’d be edible, if messy. maybe closer to food coloring than actual food itself? paintball would be a cool foodfight. it’d also work in bauble tea, or as sprinkles and fancy food toppers, or lil gummy balls

he does exist, he’s one of the JAAT teachers, he teaches a social studies class on community coordination. he’s not one of the ones i picked as a monster of the week, but i like that idea... maybe a swapsies au...

[fearsome-series]

BOOK ONE | BOOK TWO | [BOOK THREE]

Chapter One | Two | Three | [Four] | Five | Six | Seven | Eight

FOUR: WINGS 

“Any sign of the ghost?” Eliza called up. 

Malphas was flying far above them, and they were walking around the center of downtown; though busy as always, no one paid much attention to the three people talking to a bird.

“Not yet.” Malphas called as he swooped low.

“So, like…” Laura said. “Science proved a lot, right? Not, like, science science, but secret science. Werewolves, ghosts, el chupacabra.”

“I think I proved me.” Eliza said.

“But they still don’t know if anything happens after we die?”

“No. They’re as clueless as the rest of us.”

“Not for lack of effort.” Malphas swooped down low. “Seances, channeling, necromancy. All for naught.”

“Necromancy?” Manuel asked.

“Yes, not-a-wolf, they discovered that you may puppeteer a corpse, but can’t lead it to be alive again.”

“My name is Manuel.”

“And you are not-a-wolf!” Malphas beat his wings.

“You’re a demon. Malphas. A Goetic demon.”

“It’s only a name, my dear not-a-wolf - demons aren’t real.”

“So it’s possible that when people die they can leave behind a ghost, but that’s it?”

“Sounds scary.” Eliza said. “Existing one moment, and then...not. It’s hard to even imagine.”

“Eh. It's not like I’ll know I don’t exist. Not like I knew I didn’t exist before I was born.”

“But the step in between isn’t…”

“Yeahhhhh.” Laura said.

“I know it’s a logical topic to discuss when you’re hunting ghosts,” Manuel said, “but what if we did not spend tonight dwelling on our own mortality?”

“Mood.” Eliza tilted her head up. “Still nothing, Malphas?”

“No! I must look higher.” Malphas flew up and vanished.

“Hmph! Useless!” Gef sprung out of Laura’s pocket and also vanished into the night.

“...thanks, Gef.” Laura said.

“His hands are so creepy,” Manuel said suddenly.

“Yeah!”

“So...guess we just have to wait.” Eliza said.

“Yeah. Uh, what if we went and looked on our own? We haven’t checked out the alley yet, have we?”

***

Eliza did see something, alright; indeed, for the first time in a very, very long time, she saw everything. She saw people filing in and out of Irish pubs, saloons, and large corner joints (“LIVE MUSIC FRIDAY!”); she saw cafes and theater lights, and the building crowd at the arts center (tonight was something called Come From Away, on tour); she gazed at pizza and sushi, Laotian and burgers, and her stomach groaned with hunger pangs, even though she knew she couldn’t eat any of it. And she saw a woman eating a sausage on a stool at a painted fiberglass cow - life’s rich tapestry lay before her in full.

As they neared the alleyway, she saw students climbing up narrow stairs to their little studios, hanging over bookshops. And in the distance, over the fountain and university library and the steep hill itself, she could see the lights of home.

“You are the original chupacabra, yes?” Manuel asked.

“Um…yes.”

“Sorry, am I supposed to use a euphemism?”

“No, it’s cool…”

“Are you looking for a nickname for me?”

“I call him Mani,” Laura said.

“That’s not the type of nickname I use, Wolfgirl,” Eliza said. “Um…Wolfboy. Nonwolfboy…”

“The original chupacabra…?” Manuel said impatiently.

“Yep, I’m the original.”

“You’re over thirty years old? Sorry. If it was 1995…”

“Technically, but I slept through a lot of it and my body kinda shut down for that.”

“The chupacabra…enters stasis? Makes cocoons?”

“You don’t have to call me ‘the chupacabra’. I’m Eliza.”

“Sorry, Eliza.”

“We…we can talk about it another time,” Eliza smiled, feeling sharp fangs grazing her bristly tongue, but seeing dull, flat teeth smiling like…like anyone else. “What brings you down here?”

“I…don’t quite know, really, why I’m here, or what my role here is, or…”

“You’re the only one here who knows anything,” Laura explained.

“Oh…yes I am, aren’t I? I’m…useful.” Manuel almost, but not quite, laughed.

KAW!

Overhead, there flew a raven with red eyes. It called down to them to follow.

***

When Laura, Manuel, and Eliza reached the point mentioned by Malphas, they found him lazily pecking at a bag of chips - and Gef wrestling him for it. Eliza and Laura sat on a bench, watching them go at it, while Manuel stood by watching it.

“Wolfgirl, if it’s okay, what do you sense?”

Laura sniffed the air. The musk of dozens of people filled the air; the scents of pizza and pasties, and those fancy restaurants by the glass bank, springing to life; squirrels and crows and growing grass.

“Uh...a lot?”

“Again-nothing! Is there a spirit at all, or is this a wild goose chase!?” Gef pointed at Malphas. “Or perhaps a wild demonbird chase!”

Malphas kept pecking at the bag of chips.

“Hmph!” Gef crossed his arms. “At least I have dignity.”

The bag finally split open, throwing chips all over the ground. Malphas jumped in surprise.

“Mon Dieu! It’s still good!”

“MINE!” Gef scrambled to pick up the chips before Malphas. Laura rolled her eyes.

“How do you two, um…” Manuel watched Gef and Malphas’ wrestling. “How do you two handle having such…lively animal friends?”

“He bribes me with gifts,” Eliza explained.

“He bribes me with dead animals,” Laura protested. “Wanna see something?”

***

Laura led Eliza and Manuel up the steps, past the statue of the pointing robed lady and into the state capitol building.

“Y’know, I’ve never been in here before.”

“Yeah?”

“I always went out after it closed.”

“Aw.”

Laura and Eliza raced up the capitol’s steep stone stairway to the big revolving doors at the top of the hill; the state capitol building was a large, marble dome, with four wings below. Eliza paused for a look back before going into the capitol itself; she looked down the street, with the evening lights beginning to flick on. Then Laura led Eliza inside, where they walked down a marble hallway, lined with politician’s offices.

“Does everyone go out? I know Javier and Besa said they do, but…”

“Wade and Katie go out to the lakes a lot, but only at night. Nina, sometimes. Martin can’t, but he’s too self-conscious anyway…”

“Can Melissa…?”

“She’s not allowed, even on lowest alert.”

Laura stopped in her tracks. “Why? Aren’t the people chasing her in Missouri?”

“They are now, but when they come back…she’s too fresh. They saw her.”

“They saw me.”

“They didn’t see you. You were a dog at the time, Wolfgirl. With Melissa, their chase is still active.”

“So she has to be in the tunnels all the time?”

“Yeah…do you know what’s up with her glasses? She’s forbidden from taking them off, and we’re told to be careful around her, but they won’t tell us what happens if she doesn’t have them.”

“Bad shit happens. That’s why she has glasses.”

“I don’t think even the Doc knows what that ‘bad shit’ is,” Eliza said.

“No…I saw her scare off a few guys with it, but what would’ve happened to them if they looked…I don’t know.”

“I don't really want to find out.” Eliza said. “Why are you so interested in Melissa anyway?”

“Who knows!?” Manuel said loudly. “...sorry.”

“I rescued her, I want to know she’s doing well.”

Eliza followed Laura into the capitol dome itself. No one else was around, so she…calmed down. She studied the murals, the statues, the painted ceiling, and how it was quiet - being somewhere so large, and having it nearly to her own, with distant, echoing footsteps down distant stone hallways and up on the circular, second level walkway.

“They tell you to lay on your back.” Laura said.

“Huh?”

“Yes, when kids are on field trips here they lay on their back to see it,” Manuel explained.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. Kids don’t have spines,” Laura said.

“Kids have spines?” Manuel said.

“They have spines, they don’t have spines like her spines.”

“I get it,” Eliza said. “I don’t blame you for forgetting I have spines. Not like you can see them.”

“Why did we come in here again?” Manuel said. “Only to escape Gef?”

“No, I want you to meet - hey, mom.”

“Laura?” Eliza watched a woman with brown hair walking down the stairs, her heels clacking noisily on the stone, dressed in a suit, a bag flung over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you were doing an interview, and I was by, so…”

“Hi, Manuel,” she said.

“Hello, Laura’s mom.”

“This is your friend…” Eliza reflexively pulled her hoodie drawstrings, felt it chafe against spines that she couldn’t even see.

“This is Eliza,” Laura said. “She’s from…below.”

“She’s one of the…hello, Eliza. You look…”

“Normal? Yeah. This is my face. Hello, Laura’s mother.” She held out her hand for a handshake; Eliza shook it with a posture that must’ve looked contorted to anyone who didn’t know she had claws.

“You can call me Heather.”

Heather shook her hand; did she notice the scales, the thickets of hair? Could she feel them? Could…

Heather let go of her hand. “So Laura, are you and your friend going to be down here long?”

“I don’t know, maybe?” Laura said. “We’re sorta running an errand right now.”

“Alright. Don’t be too late. You can swing by the Terrace, if you and your friend want to see me. Otherwise, if you need a ride, your father should be able to give you one.”

“We might swing by. And…yeah, of course I’ll call him if we need a ride.”

Before Heather left, she placed a hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you…”

“And I’ll see you soon.” Heather reminded her daughter.

“Ugh, yeah, mom,” Laura said, swiveling around and heading back down the hallway.

Eliza and Manuel tailed after her. She hid her hands back in her hoodie. Her spines rankled against their prison even more than before.

***

Heather was in the elevator when her thoughts began to drift. Drift back to summers on that creek, to her sisters Margaret and Stella, to that house…

Where Chris and Laura would never be welcome.

The thoughts disappeared, as they always did, and she walked out into the parking garage. She never saw it, but behind her, a small, green tendril withdrew, turned into smoke…

***

Laura, Manuel, and Eliza returned to the benches, where Malphas was nowhere to be found - and Gef was hunting for every last crumb of the chips.

“Gef, can you even eat cool ranch?” Laura asked.

“Only one way to find out. Experimentation is the only way humanity grows, after all.”

“Ah, yeah. Real scientist over here.”

Malphas swooped down from the sky and perched on Elia’s shoulder.

“I’ve sighted the phantasm!”

“O halloo nyn ghooie…” Gef sang quietly.

“Where?” Eliza asked.

“O Chliegeen ny s’bwaaie…”

“Down, towards the lake…”

“Ry gheddyn er oorr aalin Yee…”

“...in the reflection of a window…”

“TA DT’ ARDSTOYL REILL THIEEEEEE-”

“CAN IT, YOU RIDICULOUS FERRET!” Malphas flapped furiously, swooping up into the sky.

Gef crawled onto Laura’s shoulder. Laura glared at him in his pocket - and someone glared at her in return: a cop.

“What was that noise I just heard?” She asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Laura bluffed.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“Uh, no, it was nothing.” She started shaking. She glanced at Manuel, who was keeping his eyes locked on the cop, locked painfully on the cop.

The cop moved closer. “I’m curious why people like you are standing on a street corner this late at night.”

“It’s not that late, and…I can be where I want to be, can’t I?” She should shut up, but…

“I’m going to have to search your bag and pockets. Both of you.

“What? For what?”

“I have reasonable suspicion,” she said sternly. “Or would you like me to take you in?”

Gef fell stone silent. Laura followed suit. She handed over her bag, as did Manuel.

“What’s in here?” the cop asked.

“School stuff,” Laura said weakly. “I’m…I’m fifteen.”

“You, same question?” the cop asked Manuel. He didn’t respond. “I asked you a question.”

“School stuff,” Manuel repeated weakly.

The cop searched Laura’s backpack - not finding whatever she was looking for - and then her pockets, and then Manuel’s. She shook her head and backed off. “I’m going to let you off now, but I better not see you around here again. If I do, I will bring you in.”

For what? Laura thought, but refused to say; she meekly agreed. When the cop had left her sight, she found a nook to hide in and allowed herself to cry; Manuel stood by, hands in his pockets.

“What was that swill about?” Gef broke his silence.

“I…I don’t know.” She did, but she didn’t see how Gef would understand. “Mani, are you alright?” Manuel shook his head; recognizing his behavior, Laura reached into her bag for a notepad and pen and handed them to Manuel, who wrote something down.

NO I’M NOT. He glanced around. WHERE’S ELIZA?

“Eliza?” Laura asked, stirred from her tears. “Eliza…?”

***

Even from down here, they could hear the wind. The blizzard carried on. In the rec room, that little corner they’d carved out, where they’d put a couch and some “activities”, little paper mache snowflakes hung on the walls with strings of lights that provided the only illumination. Beneath a banner - HAPPY HOLIDAYS - Eliz and Clive were locked in a fierce duel.

“Ugh! Ugh, ugh, ugh!”

Eliza swung her controller forcefully. On screen, her guy bashed his guy. Clive’s guy toppled over into the water below.

“You win this time,” Clive said.

“Yeah. Better stop before we break another tv.”

Controllers away. TV off. Eliza moved under the lights, resting by their tree - fake, and hung with ornaments some of them had made. She had tried to make one; unfortunately, her claws had other plans. They were all alone - and with only the strung-up lights breaking the darkness, she had been able to hide a bag by the tree, which she reached for while Clive made her way over.

“Um, I wanted to get you something. But...I couldn’t get much.”

“It’s okay if you’re okay with me not bein’ able to get much.” Clive revealed his own bag.

“I found this when I was out with Katie. That Halloween trip we always do. And..I thought about you.”

Eliza pulled out her gift. She watched closely as Clive unwrapped and unrolled it: a poster of the ‘66 England team. She didn’t know anything about football, besides that Clive liked it, so she hoped that was a good present.

“I know…I don’t know if you like this, but…you’re from England and you’ve mentioned soccer - football, so I thought you might…”

“I did, didn’t I? Sneaking into games for something to do…but not really…” He bit his tongue, let the usual sadboy tone fade. “Thank you.” He said, rolling it back up. “I’ll put it up in my room later.”

“I’ve been holding onto it since October.”

“It’s great. And...y’know what’s odd? Katie helped me too. She didn’t tell you, I take it?”

Katie! Eliza thought.

She unwrapped a silver bracelet. Northing ornate or fancy, but on it were engraved letters. RATA <3 CABRA.

He made that for me, she marveled to herself. He had someone carve that...for me.

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but-”

“It’s great! It’s great.”

She slid it on. Looked at it for a while. How it reflected the tree’s lights. At the words he engraved.

“Thank you! Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.” He kissed her.

***

Malphas flapped urgently overhead. Eliza kept up as best she could, charging right past pedestrians, who shouted back at her with impotent anger, demanding apologies. But her adrenaline was too high, her attention too focused for her to notice.

She had left with Malphas right before the cop arrived - she had been too far away when she realized Laura hadn’t followed - she wanted to go back, but a group of people leaving a pub had pushed her back - and she was torn between the danger of man and a sense, deep in her stomach, that she was barreling towards more than a singing ghost…

Because when she had turned down onto this street, as Malphas flapped blindly on, she had seen it. She had heard it.

And she was heading right towards it.

***

Eliza squeezed Clive’s hand tightly as they walked to the flap of metal and stone cell she called a “room”. Occasionally, she would touch her bracelet - just to remind herself it was there.

“Good night, Ratboy. Unless…”

“Unless?”

Eliza let the words stumble out all at once. “It’s cold. You know, I’m cold-blooded. Well, mesothermic. And up here we have the most...winter-y winter ever.”

“You want me to keep you warm?”

“If you want.”

Clive nodded. Clive had spent the night before, but this felt...different. She felt oddly nervous, in a way she couldn’t place. She didn’t really know what she had meant when she said all that; what she meant was definitely not what she said.

Clive rested his new gift against the wall, and cuddled with her. He gently stroked her spines, and she kissed him. He kissed her, deeper this time. She did, too, and the wind roared louder in the world above.

***

The blizzard wore on, but Eliza felt warm. Clive’s arms were draped around her. She was hit by how odd this all was. She wasn’t alone. She was with someone and there was a blizzard up above and the pipes were out and it was freezing and she didn’t even care. She was warm. She was wanted. She was not alone.

“Are my spines annoying you? Are they -”

“They’re fine.” Clive stroked the spines at the base of her neck. She smiled.

“Okay. Uh, what about -”

“You don’t have to worry. You know I think everything’s fine.”

“But...I always worry. I don’t know how to not worry. I don’t...I…”

“I love you.”

“I...I love you too.”

“I’m curious.”

“What’s left to be curious about?”

Clive traced the stubs on her back with his hand; Eliza shuddered.

“What are those?” He asked.

“You’ve felt them before.”

“But I hadn’t seen them before. I thought they were more spines. You never mentioned them, after all.”

“They’re...wings.”

“Wings?”

“Or...they were. They...they…”

“Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

“Thanks, but...I do. In Texas, at the old place, the doctors...they wanted to change us.” Eliza said. “I couldn’t fly. I used them as a shield, mostly. When I was too anxious to face something. Maybe they would’ve grown. Maybe they’re how chupacabras communicate...if any others exist. But I’ll never know. Because in one of their treatments, they...they…”

“I am so sorry.”

“They called me demonic. They…” Eliza couldn’t go on.

They laid there in silence, Clive comforting Eliza until she calmed down. Outside, the blizzard rattled on…

***

Malphas led her to a squat, six-story office building in a plaza.

The door wasn’t locked, but the office had a burnt smell. She saw caution tape and a notice from the fire department; repairs ongoing from a fire two weeks ago. The office was abandoned, though most of the desks were untouched by the disaster; family photographs and Packers calendars and reminder notes stuck on computers. She could see with the lights out and windows boarded up, but her eyes glazed over at the monotony of desk, desk, desk…over singed carpet and blackened walls…

“Malphas?”

The monotony was pierced by voices. Whispering, singing voices. She was no longer there. She was on the couch with Clive. That perfect sunset, that glittering bracelet. She saw Eugenio and Graciela and the old home in Canóvanas, the one they found with no neighbors, the one backed onto fields…

No, Eliza thought. Everything was wrong. The images felt hollow: relics of a life she had, but not the one she led. Part of her saw the grimy, burnt office building around her. Saw the flames. That part of her won: never trust a beautiful song sung in hell. The song broke.

She blinked. She knew something had just happened, but she had a hard time remembering what. It was like a wave had come in and out, leaving nothing behind. She looked in another cubicle for her companion; she found only tattered photos of some blonde, white singers she couldn’t tell apart.

And then a cascade of whispers, too many to make out any one voice.

It was upon her. A blue-white light in a human shape.

“Oh, h-hi…” She said.

“You know your home.” A man’s voice said. “Not open,” a woman joined. “If only you listened!” A boy’s, laced with rage.

“Home? Home? Do you want to go home? Where’s-”

It moved closer - it had legs, but its movement was not quite walking. Nor was it hovering. Its feet were an indistinct blur that occasionally flashed. Looking at them too long made Eliza uneasy.

She backed away. “We can help you. If-”

The face was wrinkled, like a mummy, or one of those Neanderthals they find frozen in ice. He had a mouth, a nose - and no eyes. In its eye sockets blazed lights, a deeper blue than the rest of its body.

It drew two hands to its chest, and pulled it open with a sickening crack. Eliza jumped. She couldn’t explain what she saw inside: not flesh, but a window into a snowstorm. She shivered. Felt her body cooling, felt jolts of pain. She searched for an exit, but she was backed in a corner.

And then she heard the screams.

“GUARD!” “I’M INNOCENT!” and voices in French, voices in an indigenous language, multiple indigenous languages…

Tendrils of scalding light wrenched Eliza towards the screaming voices. She shook in terror. Her claws were almost free. She could cut, slice, fight back. But she hesitated. It didn’t…occur to her to use them, there was a disconnect in her mind, between hand and claw, between skin and scale. She urged her brain to back off, but it held steady. An instinctive, primal anxiety consumed her, the anxiety of being a monster, after all…

Her chance was lost.

She looked into the vortex ahead. Her body shivered. This was a death sentence. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for what lay ahead. Cursing herself for not taking the chance she was given. Sending out mumbled, desperate prayers.

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Eliza crashed to the floor. Her eyes snapped open. Malphas dive bombed the ghost, pecking and clawing at its eyes. A hand reached out from the darkness. Laura’s. She took it. The sounds of slashing and cawing lay behind them, as they found the window and raced for the exit. Ran full-speed into the caution tape, disentangled themselves, ducked, the light reflected on the carpet, on the twisted, burnt carpet, it’s there, it’s right there, rolled…

She crashed onto hard concrete steps. Only then did she catch her breath, kneeling on aching legs. Eliza glanced up. A burst of light that was visible through the coating of dust on the windows, and Malphas flew down, kicking up strange, illuminated dust with every flap of his wings.

“Is - huff - it gone?” Eliza asked.

“Gone,” Malphas answered.

***

“You left me.” Laura said.

“I’m sorry. Malphas just started flying before the cop came, and I saw you but I couldn’t get back…” Eliza flopped on the steps.

“My apologies, Goatslayer.” Malphas perched on her shoulder.

“Thanks. That face...the noise when it pulled its chest open...the voices...did you even see it?”

“Not at first, but when Malphas attacked, it popped in.”

“You have better ears than me, Wolfgirl. Did you hear anything?”

Laura had. She heard more - and saw more. Through the swirling snow and dust, she saw an entire world, washed out and dull like the ghost’s own colors. People were lost in misery. A trio of prisoners, banging on the bars of a cell without walls. A trader by canoe. A Native man, leg broken, trees around him. A Native woman sitting by a river. All of them...faded. Not entirely there.

Some weren’t even people. Just shapes and outlines that may have been people, once.

And one who was perfectly clear. That girl from the Tunnels, the college student, begging for help.

“Laura, did you hear anything?”

“There’s someone inside there.” She considered lying, but… “That college girl. Jainaba. She was in there, and…and she’s trying to get out. Someone else, too, who wasn’t faded, but I didn’t see them clearly.”

***

It formed again. Dust and embers coalescing into form. It closed up its chest with a snap. The chorus of stolen voices began once more; their owner’s muted moans and cries carried on somewhere deeper, without end.

Two, it thought. Two. And it knew who to hunt next.

[area-zero-rogue]

INTERVIEW WITH THE MUSE

WHAT IS YOUR NAME? “Rosario, though many find it easier to refer to me as Rose or shorten my name to Rosa.”

WHAT IS YOUR REAL NAME? “Rosario? I have yet to determine if I wish to still be associated with my familial last name or not. For now, I will refrain from sharing that.”

DO YOU KNOW WHY YOU WERE CALLED THAT? “I was named after my great-grandmother. Apparently, we share the same birthmark on the left shoulder?”

ARE YOU SINGLE OR TAKEN? “Single. I am not particularly seeking a relationship at the moment.”

WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOR? “It is some muted shade of lavender. Languid lavender is what my art professor described it as.”

HOW ABOUT YOUR HAIR COLOR? “Pale pink, nearly white.”

HAVE YOU ANY FAMILY MEMBERS? “I have two younger siblings, my mother and father. I also have several others within my immediate and extended family with many aunts, uncles, and a plethora of cousins. Oh, and my maternal as well as paternal grandparents are still alive.”

OH? WHAT ABOUT PETS? “I recall my family having a Houndoom and Mabostiff, though I wouldn’t consider them pets. I also would not consider my current Pokémon as pets either.”

THAT’S COOL I GUESS, NOW TELL ME SOMETHING THAT YOU’RE BAD AT. “…Do you have an hour or maybe two? Because there are many-“

DO YOU HAVE ANY HOBBIES/ACTIVITIES YOU LIKE DOING? “I suppose outside of my research, I genuinely enjoy painting and spending time with my Pokémon. I do also sing but that tends to be a more private activity.”

EVER HURT ANYONE BEFORE? “Yes. Both in instances that were intentional or an accident.”

EVER….KILLED ANYONE BEFORE? “No.”

NAME YOUR WORST HABITS? “Well, to name a few, I have a tendency to misplace things, nibble at the insides of my cheeks, can be rather reckless, and have a tendency to ramble. I’m sure with enough time, I can recall others.”

DO YOU LOOK UP TO ANYONE AT ALL? “I would say I look up to Professor Aguado. I truly admire his dedication and commitment to his work. I aspire to become a Professor like him one day once I complete my education.”

DO YOU GO TO SCHOOL? “Yes and no. I am technically still enrolled at the Academy. Soon after my Treasure Hunt ended, however, I made the decision to take a break at the advice of the Professor and academy staff. We were under a mutual agreement that the expedition was far too important to let studies divert my attention.”

WHAT ARE YOU MOST AFRAID OF? “I… Don’t know? Many would agree I do not fear death, which is mostly true, but other than that… I’m unsure. I would need to think about that a bit more.”

WHAT DO YOU USUALLY WEAR? “My expedition survey gear. I can’t recall the last time I wore anything else since starting my travels.“

DO YOU LOVE SOMEONE? “I think I do? I have yet to distinguish if it is a platonic or romantic love, but I think that still qualifies my answer as a yes. So, yes.”

HOW MANY FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE? “If we are counting my Pokémon, my estimate would be around twenty? If we are not counting Pokémon, then it would be eight individuals.”

WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON PIE? “It is such a wonderful and filling dish. There are even portable ones when they are shaped into hand pies! I adore both sweet and savory varieties.”

FAVORITE DRINK? “On occasion I treat myself to an espresso drink of some kind but I more often enjoy having a light floral tea.”

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE PLACE? “For sentimental reasons, there is this one rooftop I would frequent with a cherished friend where the view overlooking Mesagoza is absolutely sublime. My second choice would be Brooklet Hill on Akala Island in the Alola region. The series of cascading waterfalls coupled with moonlight bouncing off rippling water and being surrounded by the sounds of Pokémon was something truly magical.”

ARE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMEONE? “I would be lying if I answered no, but I’m unsure if our paths would ever cross again. Part of me hopes so.”

WOULD YOU RATHER SWIM IN THE LAKE OR THE OCEAN? “A lake. At the very least they’re enclosed bodies of water unlike being set adrift in something as vast as the ocean. Both are incredibly dangerous as water is not an element to disrespect or take lightly, but a lake you’re much more likely to reach land sooner... Dead or alive.”

CAMPING OR INDOORS? “I generally prefer being indoors, but nothing can replicate the wonders and thrill of camping amidst nature.”

tagged by: @unchcsen

tagging: you, the one reading this right now! (if you hadn’t done this already) ✨

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[writing-good-vibes]

today's fic brought to you by self-loathing and insecurity ✌ exactly what it says on the tin, dear readers: self indulgent comfort about the terrible twins. college au? like with a previous self-indulgence bit i wrote, reader is in college and knows bo and vince from childhood i suppose? bold is sign as always. warning for alcohol consumption. other than that it is only fluff, at worst it is hurt & comfort.

vincent x reader

There was only one thought on your mind as you left your final class of the day. Home.

Well, technically there were three additional sub-thoughts that came to you as well: drink, jack-off, have a little cry. But they would all be done in the privacy of your room so, therefore, you wanted nothing more than to get back home and wallow.

Before any of that though, you stop at the store to buy enough alcohol to temporarily drown your sorrows, and you swing by Vincent's room. Why have a pity party all on your own when you can invite a friend?

"What's wrong?" Vincent asks when he opens the door to you, immediately spying the bottle of vodka clutched in one hand and your school backpack in the other.

"Totally embarrassed myself in class today," you explain, "And I'm realising my thesis is total shit."

Vincent frowns, his eyebrow drawing in, before retreating into his room and coming back a second later with a selection of cassette tapes under his arm. "That's not true, I like your thesis idea."

The pair of you walk back to your room as you explain your woes, "Yeah, but it's just... pointless. Everyone else has really relevant and intellectual research questions and mine's just... meh."

You make it to your room and throw yourself down on the bed, Vincent joining you after putting loading a tape into your boombox. He keeps the volume low enough that you can talk without being distracted. You crack open the vodka and take the first, burning sip before passing the bottle over.

You sit side by side against your headboard and you lament your day.

Vincent takes a drink, taking the first gulp better than you did, before propping the bottle between his knees to speak, "I understand. Sometimes I just don't think people get my art, but the people that matter do. Same with this, if you like your topic, isn't that good enough?"

He has a very good point and, as you take the bottle from him for another drink. "Maybe you're right, but I just don't know. I just felt so stupid in class."

"No one will remember. People are more concerned with their own work."

You shrug. You know it'll work out but you really just want to be sad right now. Leaning further into Vincent, you breath in his warmth. With all the highs and lows of college, you're so fucking glad Vincent is always there.

bo x reader

The next morning you woke up and, for a glorious second, did not remember the day before.

Without opening your eyes fully, you rolled over in bed, burrowing deeper into your pillow and blankets. But then it hit you, the past days events and the remedy you came up with the night before.

This is just what you needed: you still had college work to do, as always but now you also had a hangover.

Before you have a chance to wallow too much, there's a knock at the door. You look around and realise Vincent is gone. Weird. He is never, ever up earlier than you. Thinking it must be him at the door, you call for him to just come in.

When you peer out from beneath the covers, it's not Vincent's face that greets you but Bo's.

He has a stupid, smug smile on his face when he sees your dishevelled appearance.

"Fuck," you groan, "What are you doin' here?"

"Vincent called me, told me you were having a rough one," Bo shrugs, coming up beside your bed and sitting down on the edge of your mattress.

"I am not," you insist, but you shuffle closer to him so you can lay your head in his lap.

"Ain't you? You got drunk on a Wednesday."

"It's not a crime to have a good time," you retort, but your heart isn't in it. A low heavy feeling is settling in your stomach.

"I dunno, Vincent said you weren't so much having a good time, more that you were upset."

"Upset is, is not the right word. I just totally embarrassed myself in front of my class yesterday."

"Aw, c'mon, it can't o' been that bad. 'Sides, you know more about your thesis than anyone else I know, just 'cause you messed up talkin' one time, it don't mean you're an idiot."

Bo's method of comfort could feel slightly backhanded, but usually it did help. Accepting that yeah, maybe you did mess up but it's not the end of the world. Bo knows that as much as anyone; he's made it this far.

"I dunno, maybe," you shrug.

Bo sighs and pulls you up into his lap properly. It's then that he spots the bottle of vodka from last night on your floor. "Damn, you and Vince really went to town without me, huh?"

"Yeah."

He laughs, and leans down to grab the bottle. He twists the cap and takes a swig, leaving one more mouthful left in the bottom. "Hair of the dog?"