#Sketch 60 Crack

[bluemoviegirl]

UNDER THE SAME SUN

joel miller x reader

summary: After a year of surviving alone in a brutal world, you finally find refuge in Jackson, Wyoming—but adjusting to community life proves just as challenging as the horrors outside. When you’re assigned to work with the town’s most gruff and unapproachable man (who happens to be really attractive, you'd never admit this though), Joel Miller, the two of you clash instantly. But as tensions rise and walls begin to crack, you realize there’s more beneath his hardened exterior and he sees sides of you he'd never expected—and maybe, just maybe, he’s exactly what you need to feel alive again.

wc: 4.1k

a/n: hii im rosa, really excited to share my first fic with you guys!! please comment what you thought of it. i'm still working on where i'll take the story so if you've got any cool ideas do let me know! <3

It’s about 20 years since the world fell. You’ve been through hell, as has everyone of course. After wandering alone for a year, you finally made it to Jackson, Wyoming—a place whispered about in rumors as a well-fortified, truly safe settlement. Survival had taken its toll, and after so much time alone, you’d grown accustomed to talking to yourself—or, at times, forgetting to speak altogether.

Now, two months in, adjusting to life among real people has been... an experience. The first month, you barely left your home, more focused on settling in than socializing. Not that anyone could tell—you hadn’t made the place feel like yours in any way. Your small one-bedroom apartment was as bare as the day you arrived, furnished only with the essentials. A functioning kitchen, a hot shower (which felt like the biggest luxury of all), a somewhat comfortable couch, and a simple king-sized bed with a closet across from it. It was enough.

Tommy Miller one of the community's leaders, came by to visit a few times the first month. Just checking in on you and bringing over things like soap and firewood. It was time for you to get out there and you knew it. Honestly you thought going to sleep every night would’ve been harder, with PTSD and all. But the bed was comfortable and you just snoozed away every night. That’s just nights though, during the day, when you were more alone with your thoughts, it became difficult. It's why you forced yourself to socialize with others. Else you’d get real bad anxiety doing just about anything. The thoughts of being back out in the infected world would come rushing in and you’d feel like you failed them all over again. That was in the past, why can’t you just forget about it? You tried to pick one of your old hobbies back up a week ago; drawing. But it didn’t last long before you started sketching the infected and that freaked you out so much you had thrown your notebook into the fireplace.

Today felt different, it was the end of November and it felt like another fresh start. You had made a couple of friends, which to your surprise, was something that actually came easily to you. So you decided to go to the bar. Not much for the drinks but for the vibe, all the people gathered together, laughing, chatting. It felt unreal it made you feel a joy you hadn’t felt in a while. So you came there often, quickly befriending the bartender, Knox. He was a big tough guy, probably around 60. His long beard had a thin braid in it which always made you wonder whether he braided it or if he had someone waiting for him at home. He didn’t speak much about himself though, always chatting away with everyone about anything and everything. Knox would sneak you an extra drink here and there if you laughed at his jokes hard enough.

You had felt a bit embarrassed going back to the Workshop to ask if they could get you a new sketchbook twice in the same week but you really wanted to get back into drawing. But now you were sat at the bar, slightly hunched over your sketchbook and you were doodling away. Nothing major or complete but at least the drawing was actually calming you a bit. A couple people had stopped by to chat with you and you soon felt as if you already belonged here. It wasn’t long until most of the bar stools were all occupied.

You’d noticed Tommy Miller taking a seat, two barstools from you. He was swirling his glass a bit, not looking particularly joyful but not too worrying. You contemplated making small talk but you were feeling like a social butterfly today.  “Hey, Tommy.” You said as you put down your pencil and closed your sketchbook. He looked up from his glass at you as he smiled. “Oh, hey! Didn’t see you there.” You shook your head, your hair had covered up your face from the side as it had fallen over your shoulder so of course he didn’t. You tucked your hair behind your ear and tugged a bit at your earlobe, a habit you always had when talking to people. Nervous tick you’ve done since you were little. You smiled back at him. “That’s okay. How are you and Maria?” When you just arrived at Jackson, you had taken a mental note that Tommy and Maria Miller were a married couple. They’re both community leaders and you thought it to be cute. Did they know each other before, or did they meet after? It gave you a sliver of hope that maybe things would work out like that for you too. Tommy’s eyes immediately light up a bit.

“We’re good, yeah. Real good. And you? I haven’t, uh, seen ya much around.” You felt a bit of a flush coming on your face, feeling a bit embarrassed with how anti-social you’d been for two months.

 “Yeah sorry- I was settling in. Getting used to all this-“

 You motioned to the place around you. He chuckled back at you.

“F’Course, it’s somethin’ to get used to, that’s damn sure.”  

We had a moment of silence, both not knowing what to say or whether we’d turn back to our own business.

 “I’ve heard good things about ya already. You must be leaving good impressions on people huh.”

He tells you, as he sips his beer.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. I mean, I try. Being alone for a year with no one to talk to, means I can barely stop yappin’ now that there’s actual people that’ll listen.” You chuckled before asking him a question.

 “I was actually wondering, when I could get started on a job here? I would really like to give back to the community.”

 You’ve been wanting to give back to the community since you arrived, feeling guilty eating their food, using their hot water when you’ve given nothing in return.

 “Oh yeah, we got plenty to do around here. It’s really your pick but, I don’t know if you’re handy but we could use your help on repair. We’re a man short-”

 “I’d love to help.”

 He looked you up and down, you didn’t really look like you’d be good with a hammer. Besides from maybe, smashing in an infected head.. But it couldn’t be that hard. Yes, you did look like the typical girl, you still wore your jewelry from before the apocalypse which consisted of 2 rings on each hand, a couple bracelets and a locket necklace that always hung around your neck, you weren’t particularly buff looking and people would probably peg you as a flowers and baking type but you didn’t mind living up to that stereotype. Before Tommy could continue the conversation, Tommy’s head turned to the entrance door.

“Speaking of things in need of a fixin’.” Tommy grinned as he watched his friend walk in.

The man stepped in with his broad shoulders and a steady, purposeful gait. His dark hair, was peppered with gray at the temples, and a scruffy beard covered his jaw. His eyes, a deep brown, scanned the room with a quiet intensity, as if constantly assessing everything around him. His worn jeans and flannel shirt were well-suited to the rugged life he'd lived, and his stance—confident but reserved—made it clear he wasn’t someone to be easily approached.

"Joel," Tommy greets him, and the man offers a curt nod in return. You watch as Tommy claps him on the back, and they share a brief conversation as the man takes the stool next to yours. His back is to you, he didn’t glance your way. Joel.

You go back to your sketchbook, feeling a bit dismissed. But then you hear Tommy mentioning your name to Joel. “You two met yet?” Tommy looks at me and back at Joel. You shook your head no as you reached out to shake Joel’s hand. He sure took his sweet time to turn and shake yours back. He glanced at you for a moment before looking back at Tommy, obviously wondering where Tommy’s going with this. You couldn’t deny it though, the man was attractive. Maybe a good bit older than you- wait, why are you even thinking about the age difference.. Maybe it’s been too long since you’ve actually seen a man that caught your eyes.

“I was just tellin’ her we needed another set of hands for repair. She said she’s up for it.” Tommy said to Joel. “M’fine doin’ it myself.” Joel said, shooting down Tommy’s idea. And yours as well, you were perfectly capable of helping with a repair. Tommy shook his head no, “I ain’t letting you go to the outpost by yourself. We have rules here, y’know that.” Joel seemed well familiar with the rules as he gave no emotion back besides a slight frown. Joel turned to you and glanced you up and down quickly, his eyes either lingering shortly on your chest, or the gold locket you had hanging around your neck.

“You sure you capable?”

“Yeah I-“

“Y’know how to use a rifle?”

The interruption surprised you and you must’ve taken too long to answer cause Joel filled in the answer for himself.

“M’ fine doin’ it myself.” Joel said as he turned back to Tommy, who was rolling his eyes. You weren’t great with rifles really, always hated using guns. You were good with a bat, which sounded a bit silly so you stayed quiet. “Just go together tomorrow morning, scope out the place and see if you guys are able to get some work in. She’s tougher than she looks.” Tommy said, smiling to you. You appreciated him sticking up for you but it also made you feel a bit weak.

Normally you would’ve let it go, you’d have found another job to do. But something about this Joel guy, and the stoic demeanor he gave, it annoyed you. Like you needed to proof yourself, which made you feel even sillier. Proof yourself to a man? Please. But maybe, you and Joel could get along and he just needed some warming up to. You were a tad low on the friend department anyway.

---------

Though the next morning, you regretted even thinking that. It started with gathering the horses. You weren’t able to get up on your horse, and he just sat on his horse, watching you struggle. When you finally got up, you swore you saw a slight curl tugged at the corner of his lips but it disappeared as soon as you went to look again.

You two were riding next to each other in mostly silence. You had spoken a few times but would never get a response. The only sounds you could hear were the horses and the snow crunching underneath their hooves. Should you make small talk again?  You were someone who could talk anyone’s ears off but Joel didn’t exactly give off the vibe that he’d be open to that.

“So how do you know Tommy?” You say, the words spitting out before you were even done deciding.

Joel didn’t look at you as he replied.

“Was at his birth.”

You knitted your brows and stared at his face which just had a blank expression on them, opposite of yours cause that answer had your gears turning. At his birth? What?? Your silence said enough to Joel, you didn’t get it.

 “Tommy’s my brother.” ... “Oh.”

“You always this chatty?” Joel muttered. “You always this grumpy?” you shot back.

You felt annoyed that that was the only reply you could come up with. “Did you just make a joke?” You grinned just the tiniest bit, was Joel Miller making jokes? The man who had been riding his horse silently for an hour and didn’t even glance your way once?

“Didn’t think you had that in you.” You commented.

Joel’s hands tightened briefly on the reins, but he didn’t say anything. You could’ve sworn the corner of his mouth twitched. His brows knitted together ever so slightly as he glanced to you and back to the road ahead.

“So how much longer?”

 Joel didn’t answer.

“What are we even repairing?”

Still no reply. When you’ve given up on small talk he finally replies to your question.

 “Floorboards of one of the outposts.”

 “Ah, is it moldy or something?”

 “No.” His voice was flat, almost bored.

“They warped?” “No.” “Well, something’s wrong with ‘em if we’re going all the way out here.” He sighed like this was the last conversation he wanted to be having. “Just needed fixin’.” “Vague and unhelpful. Got it.

Y’know,” You hear Joel sigh again when you start a new sentence. “I had that a while ago, the cabin me and- the cabin I was staying in, the entire floor started warping cause, I assume, water damage? Mold? I don’t even know. I once tripped over them badly, hit my face so hard I still have the scar.”

You were rambling, he made you nervous. You didn’t get why, you met the man yesterday and he’d maybe looked at you like, 3 times all together. Yet you still wanted to chat with him, maybe even see what he’d look like if he ever smiled.

“The scar at the end of your eyebrow.”

He spoke before thinking, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he froze for just for split second before going back to regular Joel, you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t already staring at him. The detail he mentioned was really specific—something he'd only know if he'd actually observed you right? A brief look of regret crossed his face, and he seemed to wish he hadn't said it at all. Maybe the scar was just that obvious. It was tiny though, just at the end of your brow, a little above it. It was a scar that blended in with your face, your hair usually covering it anyway. You remember the aching pain you had for days every time you’d move your eyebrows, which was something you did a lot. You were always very expressive.

“Yea. Didn’t think it was that noticeable.” You reply softly as you rub the back of your neck.

“It isn’t.”  His voice firm.

It isn’t. Yet, he noticed it even though he’s barely looked you in the eyes. You shake off the thought.

---------

You two finally arrived at the outpost. The outpost was a small, rugged place, tucked away on the edge of the wilderness. Wooden walls creaked in the wind, patched up with scrap metal and makeshift barriers.  There was a worn-down feeling to the place—like it had seen its share of hard days. You both hitched your horses and you waited for Joel to lead. He stayed vigilant, like he was the entire ride, checking every corner, making sure nothing slipped past him—especially any signs of infected.

“Gather some of the wood.”

He said, nudging his head to the pile of wood a couple feet away.

“Yes boss.”

 You mumbled quietly as you rolled my eyes, stuffing the urge to mockingly salute him. Joel had entered the outpost and you followed shortly after you bring the wood outside the outpost, not knowing what you’d walk into.

“Watch your step.” Is what you heard seconds before slipping and falling into Joel’s arms.

As you slipped over something wet, and stumbled backward, you felt his hands instinctively reach out to catch you. One hand gripped your arm, steadying you, while the other slid around your waist, pulling you against him. Your heart raced as his touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, fingers pressing firmly into the curve of her back. The close proximity made your breath hitch. “Shit!” You yelped. You had almost fallen completely backwards, which would’ve been okay if there wasn’t a smashed in infected body behind you.

“I said, watch your step.” Joel said, a bit softer  but still annoyed.

 Your hands had gripped Joels arm when he had wrapped it around your waist when you slipped. As you realize the two of you were still entangled, you quickly stood up and Joel let you go as he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t expect there to be a pool of blood and a literal infected.” You said, not glancing at the infected, you hated seeing them.

“Yeah, must’ve forgot to mention it.” Joel replies gruffly.

Douchebag.

 You now got a chance to really look at the interior. It wasn’t much. You finally understood why the floor needed repairing, the wood was split and to your surprise, very warped.

“The wood is warped.” You say, crossing your arms, remembering Joel said no when you asked if it was warped. He just didn’t want you to be right, did he? Jackass. He just shrugged as he kneeled down, he starts lifting some of the floorboards. It doesn’t take much for them to release from the ground, so it seems.

“Shouldn’t we get rid of the infected body first?”

“Be my guest.”

You scoffed at his reply. You really didn’t want to get near it but you also didn’t want it stinking up the place even further. You sigh, extra loud, turning your head to Joel to make sure he heard you. He ignores it.

You decide on grabbing a shovel and shoving the infected away.  You noticed Joel raising a brow when he turned to look at what you were doing, but he soon turned back and said nothing as he continued removing the floor. After what felt like ages, you got the infected body out and cleaned up the area.

“How’d the infected get in here?” You said as you walked towards Joel’s eyesight.

“Dave was here a couple days back. Managed to kill the infected before realizing the man himself was already bit.” Joel said, he spoke calmly about this Dave, as if he didn’t care as to whether the guy would live or die.

“So where’d Dave go after he was bit? Seeing I’ve only dragged one-” You motioned the number one with your finger, “-body out of this place.”

Joel looked up at you, clenching his jaw for a moment.

“Dead. Now, are you going to help remove any of the floorboards or gonna continue chattin’ my ears off?”

You weren’t even saying that much.

“Yeah yeah, calm your horses.” You mumbled.

 Joel narrowed his eyes before going back to the floorboards. You walk to the other end of the room, and decide to start there. You roll up your sleeves, ready to show you’re actually capable of doing stupid repair. You grip one end of the floorboard and pull it up, as hard as you can. But there’s no movement, like, at all.

For a second you feel like you’re on a prank show, you glance over to Joel who had lifted at least half of the floorboards out already. Yet you weren’t strong enough to even lift one? Come on. You kept pulling, teeth gritting, muscles (what muscles?) flexing. Yes, you had survived being by yourself in the apocalypse for over a year but you never really grew very strong muscle. You survived by being careful and quiet, not looking for the danger, so you rarely fought.

 “Fucks sake.”

 You grunt, sitting on the floor and looking over at Joel, who was already looking your way.

“What’re you doin’? I ain’t got all day.”

“I’m trying!”

Joel mumbled something as he walked over.

“Move.”

 He said as he started gripping the floorboard where you were holding it. Joel was being tough but when he couldn’t get the floorboard to budge either, you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah yeah, mr. Strong. Lift it up then.” You grinned.

His narrowed eyes met yours briefly before turning back. He was obviously using all his strength to attempt to get it out.

“You’re gonna pull a muscle.” You say, making sure to fit another jab in there to annoy him.

You enjoyed it a bit too much, seeing him struggle after he so obviously judged you for not being able to lift it.

Just when you laugh a little too hard, the floorboard suddenly pops out, of course, hitting you in the head and causing Joel to stumble a bit. “Fuck!” You, who was previously sat, is now laying back, leaning on your elbows as the floorboard had just hit your forehead real hard. Your hand immediately rose up to your forehead and you looked back at your fingers. Blood. Joel’s eyes widened a bit, obviously not meaning to do that.

 “My bad.” He mumbles, in a gruff acknowledgement.

He kneeled a bit closer to you as you sat back up, he was looking at the wound, both your faces just inches apart. You had a little wound on the left side of your forehead, yes it was bleeding and yes it might look bad, but it wasn’t anything worth worrying about, Joel thought so at least. He was inspecting the wound but didn’t look worried. He honestly looked like he couldn’t care less.

“Is it bad?”

“S’fine. You’ll live.” He said before standing back up, and walking to his bag. He walks back with a band-aid. It’ll have to do for now. You take it from his hand, your fingers grazing. “It’s getting late, we’re headin’ back.” 

You nod as you felt your forehead throbbing. You felt the urge to cry, you didn’t but you wanted to. Today was just a shitty day and you’d spent it with a shitty man.

On the ride back to the settlement, you were quiet. Thinking about how today felt like a bit of a fail, you had gotten like 2 floorboards out and the rest was done by Joel while you had sat there with a throbbing forehead. So much for proving yourself.

--

Joel and Tommy were sat at the bar, their usual spot if they had something to discuss.

“Y’need to get me another partner for the repair.” Joel said before taking a gulp of beer.

Tommy just looked at Joel in a way of saying: ‘Seriously’?

“M’serious. She keeps on talking a mile a minute. Can’t even focus without her asking some annoyin’ questions”

Tommy finally let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “She really that bad, or is it just you bein’ you?”

Joel shot him a look.

“Pretty face, empty head Tommy, I’m tellin’ you.” Joel has his elbows leaning on the bar as he looks down at his glass and back up at Tommy.

“I’d love to relieve you of your ‘torture’ but I ain’t got anyone to fill her shoes right now. After losing Dave like that- Not many people are willin’.”

“People are scared ‘cause one man died from an infected? You’ve softened them up.”

“Dave wasn’t just ‘one man.’ He was a good leader. People trusted him. And now he’s gone. You should know better than anyone what that kind of loss does to people.” Tommy says, obviously feeling the impact it left on him when Dave died. Joel clenched his jaw but didn’t argue.

Dave was one of the community leaders, known to be real good around infected. So when he died, it scared folks.

 “You’re doin’ another repair job with her, whether you wanna or not. It’s a week from now, Maria said it’d be a good idea if you actually tried to get to know her. She’s more than a ‘pretty face’ and who knows, you might actually like her.” Tommy said, putting emphasis on Joel’s previous ‘pretty face’ comment, a cheeky smirk tugging at Tommy’s lips.

Joel let out a dry, humorless laugh.

Tommy smirked, clearly enjoying this too much. “Alright, fine. Maybe not like her. But at least tolerate her.”

Joel scoffed as he gave Tommy a narrowing glance as Joel chucked the last bit of beer down before standing up.

“Doubt that.”

And with that, he grabbed his jacket and walked out, already dreading next week.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 100

One hundred fuckin’ days. God. Actually happened. 

I spent 3/4ths of the year drawing more Junkan art than I think anyone else on the internet ever has. Which might be presumptuous of me, maybe i’m just looking in the wrong places y’know? I’m a solid second place bare minimum.

And like, that’s still pretty funny right? This whole event is something I’m gonna cherish forever, the memories, the art itself, the friends I made because of it. But like, c’mon. I drew 100 fucking pieces, learned new skills like digital painting, animation, all that shit, for a ship that I used to hate, and a ship that for the longest time I thought was gonna get me fuckin banished to the deepest depths of the internet just for drawing a poor sketch of them kissing. This ship has become more deeply entwined into who I am as a person that it’s passed up Tokomaru, the ship that literally made me realize I’m a woman.

It’s gotta be at least a little funny, right?

Ah but enough of that, I can talk more on that subject a bit later. For now I reckon I should focus on our art piece for today! Wouldn’t you agree?

Yeah it’s the Wedding. I’d say even before Day 60 I decided the final pic of the Project would be The Wedding, even before I decided to draw a comic of the proposal. Because like, c’mon, it’s basic but how the fuck else was I supposed to end of the project? With something that ISN’T a wedding????

And very shocking to hear after this entire project has gone by, but I did in fact scale back this pic massively. You wanna know what the original idea was?? 22 images, each one depicting different parts of the wedding and afterparty, including the kiss at the end. And the kiss at the end? I was gonna feature every character from the 3 main classes + Ruruka, Seiko, and Yasuke. Fucking why??? Because Excess is all I know people ITS ALL I KNOW.

However I had decided that I wanted this project finished and ready before October, because I wanted to do the Vampire Fic to coincide with Day 30. And again, say it with me here, “Jem was severely burnt out on the project!” 

So it went from 22 images, to “However many I can get done in time + the big group shot” and then that became “Just the big group shot,” and then finally, i cracked and just drew The Kiss. 

Speaking of which before I divulge some more info about the original plan, i’ll get all the fun things about the actual art I did go through with.

As you can tell I shaded this differently from anything in the project. I normally have two different ways of shading art, I don’t think these are the proper words but I call them Soft Shading and Hard Shading. If you need immediate examples, Day 95 was Soft Shaded, and Day 94 was Hard Shaded. Generally speaking I prefer to do Hard Shading, as I think it works better with the rest of my style, and also just looks better in general. Soft Shading is what I do for pics with like, a very specific tone and energy to them that I can’t really put to words. It’s also significantly easier to do compared to Hard Shading. 

A few months back for a commission of Kaede and Marceline from Adventure Time hanging out (yes this is relevant) I was trying to capture a very specific aesthetic that I’m obsessed with called Frutiger Aero. This mostly was in the background, however when lighting the pic I needed a very specific aesthetic that I didn’t know how to capture with just one of my shading styles. So . . . I fuckin did both. And in my opinion (which is crazy because this requires I compliment myself) it looked fuckin great. That said it was significantly harder.

I think I’ve done it only one other time after this, but I don’t remember what the pic was if it exists at all. But obviously as you can see, I decided that to really commemorate the occasion I’d go all out and do both shading styles again. It was very worth it, but fun fact! Doing this style on Roses is a fucking pain in the ass and if I ever have to do it again I will fucking SCREAM!

Anyway, the pic was definitely a lot harder to work on because of that stylistic choice, but the end result makes up for it by a massive margin. 

Hope ya’ll like the dresses because they were the hardest part of this! Fun fact, Val (She’s back!) did a chapter for her legendary Year of Love and Despair fic where the gals are in wedding dresses. And the designs she came up with are amazing! I still really wanna draw em when I get a chance! However! I woulda felt bad if I just yoinked em for this, so I had to do everything in my power to come up with completely different designs. And given that I am a perfectionist, that was significantly more difficult than it probably shoulda been. But I did it! I really like how Mikan’s dress turned out specifically, I thought giving her a fit that covered up more skin than a normal wedding dress would be fitting for her. Also I really like drawing Mikan’s hair in a bun, I never had a chance to say that so I’mma say that now. 

Wow fuck I just realized there’s probably a lot of random details or thought processes I have on this ship that I just never got an opportunity to talk about, either because I had a different topic to cover on previous posts, or I just forgot, or I just didn’t have a good segway! Crazy right? 

Also yes! Shading Junko’s hair was heavenly~

Okay i’ve run out of words on the art. Time to tell you about everything I cut! Now I’m sad to say but no, I didn’t actually cut 22 planned images. I never got far enough to actually figure out each individual pic. Only a small handful, which I almost speedily sketched out for this post, but I don’t have it in me, especially on my current schedule. So i’ll just do my best to describe what I had in mind!

First piece would have been Mukuro being on Security for the Wedding, because of course. She would have also enlisted the help of Mondo and his entire gang, because that combination in this context sounds funny. Don’t worry though they were well behaved.

Ruruka was gonna handle the Wedding Cake, with Teruteru on the rest of the food. Either Ruruka or Mukuro would have been giving him a death glare during the process of course.

Behind the scenes Mikan would be getting prepped for the Wedding. And by prepped I mean Seiko, Ibuki, and Sayaka would be trying very hard to keep Mikan from crying as a result of how happy and overwhelmed she is (Ruining her makeup). Seiko trying to blow air into her eyes to keep them dry while Sayaka and Ibuki desperately try to find an outlet to plug in a hairdryer in because that would be significantly more efficient.

On the reverse, Junko would be doing all of the work on prepping herself for the wedding, with Ruruka, Yasuke and Tsumugi standing in the background, questioning why they’re even there. Junko would yell at them that they’re morale support in this instance. 

Warriors of Hope would of course be there being scamps of course, Kotoko would be the Flower Girl because I play favorites. Toko and Komaru would probably be there trying to keep them in line.

I didn’t have anything in mind with the afterparty but I more than likely would have drawn the drunkest Junko I possibly could. Maybe even Mikan too!

For the Bouquet Throwing I was gonna have Syo jumping at it like a feral animal, and thinking about it now I’d probably also have Tenko jumping for it with killing intent in her eyes.  

And I think that’s it for ideas I had prior to cutting them. Which means it’s time for me to get sappy about the fact that the project is finally ending! Fuck! Usually when I write these I try to have a decent idea ahead of time of what I’m gonna fucking say, this time however I’m just gonna talk, and i’m gonna keep talking until I’m either struck down by nature or I run out of things to say. Sorry! 

This is going to get silly, sappy, and maybe even a little venty, jump in at your own risk. 

If you told me at the beginning of 2024 that I was going to draw 100 days worth of Junkan related art, including a gif and a music video, 2 comics, and also get back into writing to make gay fanfic, I’d be so god damn confused. Because what the fuck right? And that’s not even counting everything I drew AFTER I fuckin finished! Like hold on a minute i’m gonna count up how many times i’ve drawn these two, including the individual comic pages from the three i’ve made.

204.

Fucking, I. I didn’t even know we passed 200 by this point. 

And that’s not counting the sketches I’ve drawn on paper in my sketchbook. It’s also not counting unfinished pics. It ain’t counting the art I might draw WHILE writing this! It’s not counting the stuff I probably forgot about while searching my files cause I suck at naming the aforementioned files!

AND I’M STILL NOT BURNED OUT EITHER?

I got burned out on the project sure but the moment I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted I fucking IMMEDIATELY drew a Junkan pic for Halloween. And then I kept going, and then I didn’t fucking stop, and I don’t think I CAN stop! I don’t even WANT to stop but you’d think by now I’d be like “Well I don’t have any ideas right now-” NO I HAVE TOO FUCKING MANY IDEAS! I KEEP FUCKING THINKING OF MORE IDEAS, AND THEN I COME UP WITH AN AU AND THAT COULD HAVE LIKE 10,000 MORE IDEAS. JUNKAN IS A MENTAL HYDRA YOU DRAW ONE PIC 2 MORE POP UP IN ITS PLACE!

I can draw these pieces in like a few hours if not shorter, because I don’t have to fucking sketch them properly anymore. I feel like I shouldn’t be able to do that! This ship has done unspeakable things to both my mind and body! And i’ve said it before but i’m not trying to complain here, as you’ll see when I start talking about this ship like it saved me from falling into the grand canyon. But it’s just, so, absurd???

Danganronpa is only like my third favorite piece of media behind Bo-bobo and Fairy Tail and yet I’ve drawn more art of JUST THIS SHIP than I have of just general art of those series! That’s not even counting all the other ship art I’ve done! Like Tokomaru! Remember Tokomaru? The ship that is responsible for me being a woman and being able to find the happiness of being my true self? I think i’ve drawn that and Syomaru a combined like, 20 times across my entire life as a DR fan. ALL OF THIS JUNKAN ART SAY FOR LIKE, 5 OF THEM WERE IN ONE YEAR. 

And bare minimum for 2025, assuming I don’t make ANYTHING ELSE OF THEM (Which I will. You know I will.) I’m gonna draw 21 pics for Junkan Week, because you know I’m gonna just draw EVERY prompt from all three lists. And then 30 more for the Month of Junkan (Will try to have that prompt list up soon btw!). So that’s 51 I’m going to do. That’s over half of what I realistically was supposed to do bare minimum for this project. That’s so fucking much, and I’m gonna do it, because I love this ship, and also it sounds REALLY funny if I did that. 

I think genuinely the only other ships I could fucking do this for are like, Toko/Syomaru or Flarelu. Maybe Togachako if I did a reread of MHA to get me back in the spirit for that series. And even then i’m not sure I physically have it in me to go that distance even for those ships. I certainly want to draw a lot of them, especially Flarelu because that’s a ship so rare that it makes Soft Junkan (before I fucking flooded the tag on tumblr) look like a bustling city.

Speaking of tags, I still think about sometimes how like, the Junkan Tag maybe got like, a post like, a few times every month. The normal amount for a ship of this general Rarity. And now it’s like, for so many pages, just half of it is me. Because I was asked to bring something to eat to the function for the buffet table and I fucking crashed a Food Truck through the wall. I feel bad about it sometimes, sometimes. I’m imagining the scenario in my head where someone who likes Junkan but didn’t check the tag super often because it wasn’t like, a super commonly updated one, and then pressing it for the first time in a year and being like “What the fuck happened here?” You know what still shocks me? Not once have I gotten hate for any of this. I was so fucking scared for like half of this projects creation that I was going to get bombarded with people angry at me for shipping this, and NOTHING. I’m not complaining I’m just confused. I have to at least have had a few people block me right? It’s just so eerily quiet. And it’d be one thing if it’s just a thing of like “Why would people who hate Junkan check the Junkan tag” because yeah, that makes sense. But also I’ve been putting at least one Junkan pic in both characters tags every day for 3 fucking months, there had to be at least one Mikan super fan who is eternally fed up with my antics. Like, awesome that I didn’t get harassed over a ship, that actually gives me a little hope that nature is healing, just. Crazy right???

So like. Fuck.

I guess I’ll get to the sappy shit now?? I think I ran out of things to be confused about in terms of what I did this year because of this ship. So I guess I’ll just start talking about how much it means to me, both the ship, and this project. 

(trigger warning, mentions of abuse, nothing super graphic in my opinion but could be mildly uncomfortable. Either skim ahead or stop here)

2024 kinda, fuckin sucked for me to be honest?? I have like 2 good things I can speak for it in terms of major positive points (Obviously I had other good experiences but if I just said “Oh I read a I Love Amy and it was one of the greatest things ever” it lacks the same impact). Not counting getting this project to like, work, obviously.

I finished the 5 chapters of my webcomic that I wanted prepped so I could actually make a website and start posting (ignore how I didn’t make the fuckin website yet). And I started dating my darling Yves and Rivette. Who I cherish deeply. I made other friends this year, a lot of them in part cause of this ship. And I went through a lot of emotional change. 

But to get that change it required I unpack a lot. And by a lot, I mean one bag that was filled to the brim. Gonna try real hard not to like, talk about this in excessive detail or turn this post into some woe is me bullshit, but I feel like I should at least make mention of it.

At the beginning of the year, I asked Yves (who I wasn’t dating yet) about my previous romantic relationship. And she confirmed to me that, based on everything I had told her about it overtime, that yes, it was abusive.

During 2021-2022 I was in a relationship with a girl I won’t name here, you wouldn’t know her of course, it was a completely different community. It started out as friends, I got a crush, jumped at it because I was still inexperienced with feelings, and it didn’t work out. And that’s the simple way of putting it, and that’s how I viewed it till Yves opened my eyes.

From the getgo it wasn’t healthy. She was manipulative, constantly had outbursts towards me, and yanked me around emotionally constantly. I would later find out that she had a previous history of just, generally being an awful person. Even after we broke up we still stuck around each other, mostly because I felt guilty for breaking up with her, and was also just generally terrified of her. The abuse was all mental of course, it was long distance so she couldn’t hurt me physically at all. 

I of course, didn’t process any of that as me being abused, I even viewed myself as being at fault for a lot of it. The experience was so bad that I identified as Aromantic because just convinced I wasn’t able to feel proper romantic feelings for someone. It wasn’t till much later when I got another crush that I realized that I’m Panromantic, and me being Aro (and very briefly Aegoromantic) was basically just a coping mechanism to write off my trauma. I still feel guilty about that since it feels like I devalued the importance of people who do identify on the Aro spectrum, but that isn’t relevant here.

Point is, a lot of bad shit happened to me because of that woman, and even after a year and a half of us not talking because we both mutually decided it would be better for us to not stay in contact, she still found ways to worm her way back into my life. One conversation we had just by chance, to catch up, that’s all it took and I was thinking of her again. I never talked to her after that, and I have her blocked now, but I didn’t need to for shit to hit the fan.

So I asked Yves that question, she answered, and I now suddenly had to deal with the fact that I was abused, and that I was traumatized as a result. And like, I never really viewed myself as a traumatized person up till that point, I viewed myself as someone who wasn’t very smart but tried her best to do good by people who didn’t have too much baggage beyond some sucky school memories.

When I had to unpack what happened that kind of spiraled into severe Self Confidence Issues and even more Self Hate. I struggled to accept even the slightest compliment if it wasn’t directed at my art. The reason I even quit weed is because I used it almost exclusively to suppress all of the negative emotions I felt. 

I’m in a somewhat better place now, I’m trying to give myself more breaks from artwork, rather than overworking myself constantly just to feel something (and being fully open, I realized near the end of december that I pretty much used Overworking as a form of self harm). I’m gonna really try this year to like, actually let people be nice to me, and in turn try to be nicer to myself. And I have goals to work towards for this year. But I wouldn’t have gotten to this point without two things. One, my girlfriend Yves, who even before we started dating helped me through multiple breakdowns and has helped/allowed me to grow into a (I hope) better, healthier person. And even after I got over most of my feelings related to my Ex, has continued to help me cope with my self hatred. I cherish every moment we share and wouldn’t trade her for anything.

And the other thing, which I know will sound silly right after I talked about my girlfriend, is well. Junkan.

Let me say this, I didn’t get into Junkan to cope with my abuse. I have toyed with the notion in my head before and the idea of it pisses me off to a quite frankly irrational degree. I was into Junkan before I realized my issues. If you want my coping mechanism it’s Alex from Minecraft and no I’m not explaining that right now.

That said, it, like all the yuri ships I like, was a source of comfort for me. Originally I read stuff like Tokomaru fics just to help me reduce stress, back when I dealt with really severe anger issues due to the online spaces I occupied. And to this day reading a nice, fluff fic can calm me down a bit. But now they can serve a much deeper sense of comfort, away from all the bullshit, and obviously, gave me a way to distract/calm myself from the storm of negative emotions and memories that filled the brain.

I see myself in Mikan more than I’d like to personally admit, obviously not to the extreme, but in aspects. So it’s just, nice to see a better timeline for her with Junko, ones where she gets to be happy and maybe even heal as well. It just so happens that I also think there’s a lot of genuinely good potential for the ship from either a canon or non-canon perspective, and Junko’s just a really enjoyable character. 

Working on this project helped too. It gave me a way to dive deeper into my love for this ship, and gave me a sense of purpose and validation that helped me work through the rough. Whether it was the really bad mental health days, or just a shit streak of commission work that tore away at me because my job even if I love drawing can be a real drag at times, and i’m unfortunately a workaholic (Trying to work on it though).

I think i’ve said it before but even something simple as Val showing her excitement over the art pieces I was prepping could genuinely brighten my day even while I was at my lowest.

And then when I really started pursuing this as a project, rather than just a secret stash to satiate myself and one other person minimum, I realized I could do something good here. For the people like me who loved this ship but might have been too nervous about expressing it, the people who were just really craving it, and the people who had already made all of the fics and art that sent me into this spiral of obsessive passion in the first place! A gift to all of them, to make ya’ll happy. 

In hindsight, may not like, the healthiest mindset for setting off this whole project. But hey it all kinda circled around into eventually helping my mental health recover. So like, win?

And i’ve already spoken on how Day 60 allowed me to feel a lot more emotionally free as an artist even if I still have my struggle days. I’ve gotten better just in general as an artist as I improve more at stuff like expressions, posing, linework, etc. And I’ve even managed to make friends with some of the people I used to look up to as idols and can finally just view em as normal people now. (Even if I might still be a bit excessive in my praise, I swear I’m normal about ya’ll besties I just don’t have like, a middleground for showing my appreciation and affection for my friends. It’s maxed out unless I’m tired as shit) 

I find myself comedically terrified of how this ship has affected me over the course of 2024, and how it will likely continue to affect me through 2025 even as I try to move onto other projects not related to Junkan. I wanna show off my love for Fairy Tail on my main blog, and I really think that with a full years time and the first five chapters done I really can get my comic off the ground and focus on that for the foreseeable future.

But hey, 2025 at least we got two whole Junkan Events. And with Junkan Week I’d like to keep that going for as long as I can, unless someone else takes the reins way down the line. So this ol’ blog’ll keep going for a good while I imagine, even if it’s a lot smaller. Maybe I’ll find other ways to keep this place active, I’ve considered just making it a one stop shop for all things Junkan though I don’t think I’m really suited to manage that. Maybe someone’ll read this and try there hand at it down the line, maybe someone’ll do their own 100 Days of Junkan! 

Oh hey did I ever tell ya’ll I was gonna make a comedic video just making a guideline for how one could make their own 100 Days Project. It was gonna be like, pretty obvious points just framed in a very exaggerated and comedic tone. 

Alright anything else I should cover? Fun facts? Deep personal anecdotes? Sappy stuff?

Lemme check my files, maybe i got another dumb joke image- 

. . . 

Oh . . . Well there’s somethin.

Alright, don’t get to excited ya’ll, but just for a bit of fun, how about one last day in the project. I know 101 days doesn’t roll of the tongue as well, but I think this is vaguely interesting enough to make up for that! Tune in tomorrow. Same time, same place. 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[genderfeel]

@bishopmyrielfundraiser emergency immigrant fundraiser offer

2 sfw color sketch commission slots available, $60 minimum donation

rules to claim 👇

slots are first come first serve, rather than bidding

feel free to donate to any LA or NYC based orgs as outlined in the rules, or any (US) org local to you

[petra-creat0r]

Chapter 5 Secret Boss Prediction

Ohohohoh boy! Finally got to this one. I've been just sort ruminating on this boss for a while. The only thing I knew for the longest time is I'm at least 60% confident that chapter 5 will happen in the Flower Shop? But then what could be abandoned, discarded, or unwanted in a greenhouse/flower shop? Weeds? Mushrooms? Well I guess? Lotta flowers and though the mushroom idea was enticing at first, I couldn't wrap my head around a good idea for it. There was also the thing with this boss likely having the blue soul mode, and possibly having a reference or allusion to Papyrus (or Sans ig but Paps uses the blue soul mode first). But then also also with this being Asgore's flower shop and Asriel possibly being involved, there's the chance it could be based on Flowery, but then- And you can start to see why this took me so long.

EVENTUALLY, I came up with the idea of an abandoned toy soldier, lost among the plants and eventually taken over by them. There was also some talk about it being a nutcracker or garden gnome instead, but toy solider won over. Nutcracker felt too similar to Spamton and I just couldn't really get the garden gnome to vibe right. Anyways! Like two, three weeks ago I managed to sketch a design I kinda liked before trying to think on it more. Still not the boss I'm proudest off, but everyone, met The Great and Mighty Veratus! (Name subject to change if I can find a better one.)

(Once again, theme commissioned by my good friend @kierangecko)

Veratus, from verrat (German for traitor), ratus (latin for rat) and a corruption of veritas (truth). I think the thing I was struggling with for the longest time was the name. It needed to fit with the other names, and also sound good with the title of "The Great" (because Papyrus reference). Like I mentioned before though, that name is subject to change if I come up with something better.

Like I've mentioned with the other two, I know this is no where close to what we'll actually get, but all of this is just for fun and so I have some secret bosses to draw my Junior Secret Squad kiddies with. Once we DO finally get chapter 5, Veratus will likely just become one of the secret bosses of Fool's Fate.

Now, backstory under the cut.

A solider from a distant land, Veratus found himself stranded in this dark world after the Great Divide. His king and fell soldiers in arms falling back and leaving him for dead. At the mercy of the Flower Kingdom's new ruler and its army.

Luckily for Veratus, the Knight chose not to bother killing the lone soldier, thinking that the side effects of the Divide would render the rat to stone soon. Yet for some reason, Veratus did not become stone...

Alone and outcast in a world not his own, Veratus was eventually found by a man. A strange someone whom some had theorized brought forth the Great Divide. The man cast pity on Veratus, and offered the stranded soldier his help. The opportunity to blend into this world and infiltrate Knight's army in exchange for his loyalty and help getting close to Knight. Veratus agreed.

Veratus's fur became overtaken with moss and his body with vines, though it might have been painful it did make him look like a rather convincing part of this floral Dark World. In addition to this transformation, the man also opened Veratus's mind to the reality of his existence, as the man had with the rest of his pawns.

Veratus was able to infiltrate Knight's army and climb up the ranks thanks to the assistance of the man, only to be left behind and forgotten once again once the man was able to get close to his true target. Disappearing and leaving a Roaring Knight in his place. Without the man, the cracks in Veratus's facade began to show and it didn't take long for the rat to be ratting out as a rat. the Knight's army tried to kill him, but something kept him from falling. The plants consuming his body wouldn't let him die. So instead, the opposing army cast the lone solider out. Exiling him back to a life of solitude.

Until another knight and their friends arrived in the kingdom...

[juiceboxscans]

Where to buy raws and manga

Updated: With the anime coming (MON) October 7, 2024 and Volume 8 being released in English September 2024, and Volume 9 coming April 2025, we are reaching the end of canon content. Please support the mangaka if you are able by purchasing physicals and voicing your support for the work where you can.

How do I support something when I can't even get it?

It can take a little work. Ask your local bookstore to stock Yakuza Fiance: Raise Wa Tanin Ga Ii, special order the manga where possible (bookstores pay attention to enthusiastic fans who place special orders), put in requests on websites, reach out to your local manga publishing companies.

Hi fellow Raise fans! Thank you for the follows and reblogs. Can't say enough how much we appreciate knowing our work, however imperfect, is appreciated. We will keep doing our best!

While you wait for the next update, and if you can afford to do so, we hope you'll consider purchasing the raws or physicals of the manga. It's so good that it's worth owning, we think, and if you can afford it you won't regret it!

With that in mind, we have some resources for you.

Please note: These are not affiliate links and clicking on them does not benefit us in anyway. This is for you in case you are inclined or are able to buy this fantastic manga!

Physicals

Please note:

Volumes 1-8 are now available for purchase

Volume 9 April 2025

Earlier volumes are often discounted up to 25%. Click bolded text to be taken directly to RWTGI book pages or other helpful information as noted.

Barnes & Noble Amazon Seven Seas Publishing (the license owner) Penguin Random House Pika Edition (French)

Note: We know RWTGI is also licensed in Spanish and Korean among other languages but we do not know the publishing houses. If you do, please comment and if not please be patient while we update.

Kinokuniya is a Japanese bookseller with locations in 12 countries (includes the UK, southeast Asia, Australia, and the US). They carry Japanese and licensed English volumes. Pre-orders can sometimes come with a premium like an art sketch. Click for locations worldwide. They ship!

Secondhand volumes are available on Walmart's site, Thriftbooks, and Alibris. They are also available from various eBay sellers.

While you're at it, consider getting a copy of Konishi's first work, Haru no Noroi (or Haru's Curse) It's a great story and a heartstring-tugging read.

Digital

For Japanese: Click on the bold underlined text links and enable your browser to translate. If you are using Chrome there is a free translation extension in the Microsoft store.

For a monthly manga subscription: Kodansha Afternoon has a really nice monthly magazine which includes Raise and other manga.

For single chapters: Kodansha has the COMIC DAYS site. New members get 100 coins to start-- each chapter is between 60 and 80 coins. Chapter 1 is free and more recent chapters are free for a short time a few months after their release.

For ENG (US only):

For single chapters: Kodansha's app K MANGA. One of our friends on the RWTGI fandom Discord tested it and you can get the first 9 chapters for free, another 3 for free around 13-14, and every month or so they unlock another chapter. For $1 you get 99 tickets to 'rent' a chapter (like you own it but you can only read it on the app, isn't Digital Rights Management fun?), you can also 'earn' tickets each time you log in, and currently they have a promotion going.

Unfortunately this is only available to US residents as of this writing. If you have Twitter, give Kodansha a shout and let them know what complete bollocks/bullshit this is: KMANGA_KODANSHA

Here's where we cover our asses!

Don't repost our work, don't retranslate it, don't make us another casualty of copyright law. Kakao and other publishers are currently cracking down on 'M' scanlator sites and doxing site admins.

So please: Be chill so we can just enjoy this thing together. Thanks!

Happy shopping and thanks for your support! 💞

[rscroogedraws]

Rambles About Trying to Design/Draw Fashion on Characters

Back in 2023 when I came back to making stuff as R. Scrooge and focusing on cartoony looking art, I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole with fashion YouTubers.

At the time, I was working on a Total Drama fan comic and really wanted to push for having a few different outfits for any characters that might recur. It got me thinking about ideas like what color scheme does this character like, what kind of styles would they gravitate towards, would their fashion reflect current day or otherwise.

This kinda carried over when I started getting back into O.K. K.O. Its only shown up thus far with Boxman and Venomous stuff or my fan character. Scrooge has three standard designs to me: crop top with shorts, some hints at 60's Mod, or some variation of suit and tie.

For awhile, I had an easier time coming up with one-off outfits for Boxman since...I can imagine him in fun, ridiculous, really dad energy stuff. He can wear something tacky and it'd be in character. I'm okay with letting his fashion be all over the place: he can have a few high-fashion, competently put together fits and questionable Hawaiian shirt fare.

Actually, a better description is that I was more likely to shake up Boxman's look but I was probably drawing PV in a black button up or green jeans. I did experiment a little with PV outfits at one point, but more often, its just his canon outfits.

Other than these three, I have one alt. design for Fink that's a mix between her lab coat inspired dress but with a few punk touches and Converse boots. Otherwise, I've stuck with the canon outfits for the cast since I don't draw them often enough to play with that otherwise. I'm debating taking a crack at designing outfits for Cosma. I don't know.

I started to like the sexy lizard lady after spending a couple weeks writing a fanfic with her as one of the leads, lol.

I've also started trying to apply this to my own characters with questionable levels of success. I can confidently describe what their outfits or closet would look like! I even have 2-3 established outfit designs for most of them that I cycle through when I draw sketches or one-off things with them.

Sunny's outfits are majority off-shoulder tops, Converse shoes (with untied laces), and have a very summer weather feel to them. Joy is a seamstress. Her outfits feature her beloved ruffly accent, some kind of Victorian or lolita inspired element, boots, and definitely purple. Sussudio (the octopus alien) likes flowy dresses and skirts, preferably with a floral pattern.

I'm not all that confident in my grasp on fashion stuff but I'm gonna keep trying anyway. One day, I would LOVE to have Araki's attention to detail and care when designing outfits. Look at any Jojo's Bizarre Adventure character and that's a master class in designing fashion that gives that extra little insight for them as well as being a fantastic design period.

[tilly-tilly-2827]

You must be Joking, Mr. Bridgerton!

Reimaging An Offer from a Gentleman#2/ Missing from moments from My cottage

Synopsis: When Benedict offers her a glass of whiskey, Sophie gets slightly drunk. And, also, how Benedict starts to see Sophie Beckett in a new light.

⚠️  This dabble is set before their marriage, a moment before the lake scene in An Offer from a Gentleman. Benedict hasn’t finished his character development, so……..he’s kind of a dick?

Ao3 post from here!!

“Then, Gregory broke his arm the moment he held the arrow in his hands…”

“He didn’t!”

“Unfortunately, this part is true.”

Sophie burst out laughing as Benedict imitated the stern yet exasperated look and the voice of his elder brother, I’m taking that away from you.

“Does he truly sound like that?”

“Like a 60-year-old man with 9 kids? Yes, he does sound and acts like so, ”

The kitchen again was filled with the merry laughter of Sophie Beckett. No longer the quiet, reserved girl he had imagined her to be, Benedict began to notice that he rather liked the sound of her voice, the sound of her laughter.

Although Sophie had repeatedly insisted that he should take his supper in bed, or at least, in the main dining hall, Benedict was quite persistent on having his meal in the servant’s kitchen. Firmly stating that he would dine in there. With Sophie.

But Mr. Bridgerton, I believe it is not suitable for you to dine there…

But you are dining there, am I correct?

Well yes, but…

If it is suitable for you, it must be suitable for me, isn’t it? I’m only saving you from further trouble, Ms. Beckett. It must take quite an effort to carry that quantity of food from the downstairs kitchen. I’ve also been brought up of the logic; the more the merrier, Ms. Beckett, have you heard that…

Sophie did not exactly understand either of those logics. But seeing as he dabbled on and firmly seated himself on the head of the table in the servants’ kitchen, she did notice that Benedict Bridgerton was a stubborn man indeed.

“…And that is why Colin was confiscated from giving gifts to Gregory for the next couple of years.”

“A wise decision for your brother,” Sophie chirped back, barely suppressing a giggle.

Sophie had never felt so peaceful in her life. With the fireplace cracking by the side, the peaceful summer night breeze, and the love of her life gulping down her stew quite enthusiastically (This is remarkable, Ms. Beckett, Benedict had beamed at her ), every moment felt like a dream. She had imagined every fantasy of him since two years ago, but sharing a stew in the countryside had not been on her list.

Sophie was quite worried that the dinner might end in awkward silence, just as it had been in the phaeton from the Cavenders. But Benedict has been gallant and sweet, sharing stories about his family, and his siblings.

Although their plates had been finished at least an hour ago, they were pushed aside in the corner of the table. Sophie couldn’t bring herself to start cleaning them up, and Benedict was beginning to wonder why he couldn’t stop rambling on. He noticed that he wanted more of Ms. Beckett’s smiles, her laughter.

Benedict was thanking the stars that the Crabtrees had not returned from their travels yet. Mrs. Crabtree would be furious to have him in the kitchen, let alone have a young woman be in the same room with him unchaperoned.

Sophie was almost hollering with laughter as Benedict continued to talk about the time his father had put glue on his boots. It had been quite a while since he even talked about his father, but words kept slipping out as if he couldn’t help himself.

“So, it was your father, who encouraged you to sketch?”

“Well, Anthony was rather wild, so I presume he wanted his second son to engage in more …quiet pastimes.”

“…I wouldn’t call it a pastime if I had your skills,” Sophie smiled softly.

“How could you be the judge of that?”

“…I accidentally came across one of your sketchbooks the other night,” Sophie answered sheepishly, but Benedict must have been frowning because Sophie suddenly broke into a burst;

“I’m incredibly sorry, Mr. Bridgerton. I was overstepping, I knew that I was intruding on your privacy…”

“No, no. No need for apologies, Ms. Beckett. I was merely…surprised you saw them.”

Silence had fallen between the two.

“Any thoughts, by the way?”

He asked hesitantly.

“I thought they were beautiful,”

“…You flatter me, Ms. Beckett,”

“I mean what I say, Mr.Bridgeton.”

Sophie’s serious gaze met his.

“…I loved the one with your siblings,” Sophie’s voice was barely above a whisper, “The one with the mallets. I could just feel the merriment. The expression of your sister that you sketched, she looked just like you.”

The fire in the fireplace was burning down, but Benedict noticed Sophie’s cheeks were slightly flushed, and her eyes were cast down as if she were imagining the sketch in her mind.

She is quite fetching, he thought, and Benedict suddenly wanted his sketchbook in his hands, desperately wanting to capture that exact expression on paper.

“I truly loved that sketch,” she sighed, “your father must have been so proud if he had seen your works.”

Benedict felt a stroke of heartache, remembering how he would sketch in his father’s study on his lap, and his father would ruffle his head, the first time to have an artist in the family, eh?

“Well, your father must be proud of you as well, to have a daughter so well-spoken and educated as yourself. With expert culinary skills.”

Sophie’s corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, her green eyes somewhat dimming.

“…I doubt he would.”

“Why so?”

“He was…rather distant. I don’t think he ever wanted to…” Sophie suddenly stopped, surprised that she was even talking about this. She softly placed her hand on her cheeks, trying to raise the corner of her lips. No, she wasn’t going to break down in front of him.

“It must be lovely, to grow up in a family like yours.”

“…You don’t have a family.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Just when she tried to change the subject, she thought, she could feel her spine become rigid, her fingertips curling.

“You said that your mother was a housekeeper, but you never mentioned your father.”

Curiosity was quietly bubbling inside him, he oddly had the urge to know more about the woman who had taken such good care of him. Who was she? What was she?

“Where does he live now?”

“…He passed on as well when I was young .”

“What did he do?”

“……………….he was a gardener.”

“Who took care of you, Ms. Beckett?”

“I told you before, Mr. Bridgeton,” The more he asked, the more stubborn her tone became. “The family that my mother worked for was very generous and took care of me after her death…”

“They took care of you, but they didn’t love you.”

“…They took care of me the best they could do…”

“Why so many lies, Ms. Beckett?”

Benedict saw her eyes widen, almost as if she were in shock.

“……..How did you know I was lying ?”

“I could see it in your eyes.”

Benedict knew that he should have stopped interrogating the poor girl moments ago, but he couldn’t help himself from rambling on. There was so much sadness in the girl’s eyes, and he had to know the depths of it.

“Aren’t you ever lonely Ms. Beckett? With no one to protect you, filling your gaps with deception ?”

“I have become quite accustomed to my lifestyle.”

“But that makes it more miserable, doesn’t it?”

“And what would you know of that, Mr. Bridgerton?” There was a sharpness in her tone, and Benedict felt his cheeks redden, Sophie was not looking for his pity or sympathy.

“I suppose I do not know,” he mumbled, noticing that he had overstepped. He stared down at his empty plate, regretting that he had pushed too hard. “But I do wish to understand…”

“Understand, Mr. Bridgerton? There is no need to understand…”

“I care about you,”

Benedict blurted out, almost instinctively.

“ I……I ….I meant that…I …worry about you.”

Benedict saw Sophie, who had a soft smile rising on the corner of her lips. Her shoulders and hands were relaxed, but there was a look of disbelief on her face.

“…I apologize that I have overstepped.”

Sophie quietly shook her head.

“…I will never understand your loneliness, truly.” Benedict fidgeted his hands. “But I do know how it feels to …be lost. Alone.”

“Even with a family like yours.”

“Even like a family like mine.”

He gave a weakening smile.

“You must think me of a privileged git,” Benedict continued, but Sophie quietly shook her head.

“You could feel lost and alone in a room of a hundred people, but at the same time you could feel most fulfilled when there’s only two in the room,” Sophie said softly.“ You don’t have to feel guilty about feeling lonely or lost, no matter what position you’re in.”

“Mmmm”

Benedict noticed that he couldn’t quite respond to her words. But there was something incredibly soothing about her voice, her words.

“But personally…” Sophie continued hesitantly, “ I never knew you felt so…lost. You seemed so sure of yourself. You didn’t hesitate to help me at the Cavender’s”

“I wouldn’t hesitate to help you,” He replied quickly, “I just feel so lost because…”

I lost the love of my life two years ago and have failed to find her ever since,

“…Ever since Eddie was born, and Miles, that is, Anthony and Kate’s boys,” Benedict couldn’t believe those words were coming out of himself. “I’ve been…uh, struggling..?”

Sophie suddenly noticed that the man in front of her was not the debonair, gallant Prince Charming Sophie had known in the masquerade, but a simple, honest man struggling to find purpose in life.

Sophie desperately wanted to put her arms around him and comfort him, but she knew that was out of the question. Instead, she quietly put her hands on his, rubbing the palms of his hands. She knew she was overstepping, but she just needed to touch him somewhere.

“You’re hands are cold,”

Benedict smiled softly.

“I’m sorry, I’m meddling …”

Sophie quickly withdrew her hand, but Benedict caught it at the last second.

“No. I..… I like it.”

It was truly a silent night. Not like the ones in London, Benedict thought, and he could only hear the crackle from the fireplace.

“………I’m no longer the spare or the spare of the spare. Anthony wouldn’t need any help managing the estate in a few years…and I’ll be just a useless uncle.”

“You’re not useless.”

“But I am!” He groaned, grinding his head in his arms. “I have nothing in my hands, I don’t have any professions, trade, or specialty…”

“What about art?”

“What about it?”

“You’re talented. The sketches I saw…”

“I just…I just lost the passion for it. Or the love for it. I don’t think I can put myself out again.”

“What was once lost could be found,” Sophie quietly replied. Her voice was incredibly soft. “Sometimes the lord gives us chances in the most unexpected places,”

“I never thought you were a religious sort,”

“I’m not.” Sophie had a rather guilty look on her face. “I’m saying this from experience.”

But it was a sad smile Sophie had given him.

Benedict was in strong need of a cigarette. Or at least a stiff drink.

----------------------------------------

Benedict regretted ever giving a drink to one Sophie Beckett. He had forgotten that he had been drinking with an inexperienced woman of two and twenty, not the lads from Will’s bar or the bohemian artists in Granville’s parties. Benedict had offered too much, and apparently, Sophie had too much to drink.

I’ve never had a drink, Sophie timidly had admitted an hour earlier when he offered her a glass.

Oh, I do believe you will enjoy it, Ms. Beckett. Benedict foolishly had said, passing her one of his finest. Go on, a sip wouldn’t hurt you.

Oh, how ignorant and careless he was. Sophie Beckett was now on her eighth glass, currently giggling away happily to pour the ninth. Benedict would have to come up with an excuse to Mrs. Crabtree why one of his finest whiskey had disappeared in just one night.

The extent of her influence? Sophie had been rambling on how talented he was with his artistic pursuits, and how he truly resembled Prince Charming she had read in her childhood fairy tales.

Admittedly, Benedict did feel rather smug.

“You are a very charming gentleman, Mr. Bridgerton.” Sophie declared for the fifth time that night, softly tracing the graining on the table. He noticed that her fingertips were grazed with blisters and cuts, painful cracks on each side. He should get a bottle of lotion on his way back, he thought to himself. Although Benedict was bewildered by the amount of her consumption she decided to take, he knew how much she deserved a nice, good drink.

And he did enjoy seeing Sophie Beckett, always so prim and reserved, ramble on so high-spirited and…utterly drunk.

“…Why thank you, Ms. Beckett.”

With her pale cheeks flushed and her green eyes glowing, Benedict suddenly felt an immense amount of thirst, quickly taking another shot of his drink.

“It is your eyes, I suppose. Or is it your smile that pleases the eye?” Sophie slurred, dropping her head on the table, “With your talents and charms, you must have every man and woman at your disposal,”

Should he kiss her? A flash of thought skimmed through his mind. No, he firmly thought. He was a gentleman for god’s sake, and his father and mother had taught him better than to take advantage of an intoxicated lady. Taking liberty with a helpless maid, he would be as obnoxious as Cavender, the man he had saved Ms. Beckett from. He shuddered, reminiscing the moment he saw her in Cavender’s arms. Benedict sighed, ashamed that even the thought of kissing her had entered his mind.

But Benedict was sure that Sophie Beckett did hold some affection towards him, listening to her drunken slurs, he knew that somehow, unconsciously, he had captured Sophie Beckett’s heart, her subconscious entirely. Was it his looks? Was it his charms? Was it his family name?

It was true that Sophie Beckett was tempting, very tempting indeed. With her soft blond curls and her captivating green eyes, he could see the parts that would capture the eyes of a gentleman, despite her scrawny figure and the worker’s rags.

Just fifteen inches, Benedict thought, if he leaned over just a little, he would have her lips on his, and somewhere in his mind, instinctively, was screaming, demanding that she would be his. He simply just knew.

He could ravish her, cherish her, adore her with his whole body. He could dress her up in silk and satins, buy her ribbons and jewels, bonnets and dresses, everything a young woman would dream of. He could hide her away, she could be there for his pleasure, as his muse, his inspiration. He would sink her in his silk sheets. Perhaps he could even give her a family, which she seems to desperately want. She would never be alone.

For the first time in his life, he was making excuses to his lady in silver, the woman he had sworn would be his future wife.

A little one on the side wouldn’t hurt, would it?

But he was a gentleman. He knew that a drunken state was far from ideal to be making an offer, and there would be a perfect moment to ask her for her hand, to come to London and live with him. He would have to wait for that exact moment.

He just simply stared at Sophie Beckett, who seemed to be drifting off, her ample chest softly rising and falling.

Maybe he should just kiss her.

Benedict Bridgeton realized that he was also quite drunk as hell.

He staggered as he stood up to take a pitcher of glass, hoping that it would sober him up and water would drain the immense lust that seemed to be creeping up on him.

“Ms.Beckett, I advise you to be more careful with your drinks on future occasions.”

“…Mr. Bridgerton, you were the one who offered me these refreshments!” She mumbled, barely cracking an eye open.

“Well yes, I did, but…”

“You are quite a hypocrite.”

Benedict chuckled at the direct insult.

“The world is a dangerous place, Ms. Beckett. Typically a man would take advantage of you in such a secluded space as this…”

“Men are beasts,” She hummed,

“And men are beasts,” He sighed, searching for another glass to hand over to Ms. Beckett. She would have a terrible hangover, he thought, remembering the first one he had when his schoolmates smuggled a bottle of wine into the dormitory. He would tell her about it tomorrow morning, perhaps over a nice strong cup of tea….

“But you would never hurt me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Up until that moment, Benedict thought that he knew Sophie Beckett. He knew what ticked her, what made her laugh, what she wanted from him. He knew how she lied about almost everything of her past, how damaged she was, but how she firmly kept it inside. He knew how fragile, yet strong she was, how kind and caring she was. When he looked at her, he thought he knew everything.

“I know that you would never hurt me.”

But Sophie, simply looking up at him with her evergreen eyes, he saw an overwhelming amount of innocence, faith, and confidence towards him; a passionate gaze he couldn’t help but avert.

Benedict Bridgerton could read Sophie Beckett like the back of his hand.

Yet, she was a labyrinth he could never decipher.

----------------------------------------------

Carrying her up from the kitchen to the guest bedroom did not take that much effort. Her figure was so petite that she fit easily in arms, and he noticed that she was morbidly light, to the degree it concerned him. She must be skin and bones, he thought, was she not fed enough at the Cavenders? Although her face was still flushed, he winced at the coldness of her hands and feet as he tucked her in bed, putting extra blankets on the covers.

Benedict smiled at the little stuffed dog that sat on the dresser, not imagining that a practical maid like Sophie would keep such childlike trinkets. It was, rather dirty and worn out as if it had been kept for years, but he could see that it was made with intricacy. Made with fine velvet and beautiful beads for the eye, it was something his sisters would have, not something a housekeeper or a gardener could give to a poor child. Perhaps, it was the generous family that had given it to her.

Quite generous indeed.

He should get her a dog, he thought. Perhaps a Pomeranian or spaniels. But he was sure that she would love an English terrier. Benedict’s mind wondered happily as he imagined life as Sophie’s patron, promenading in the London streets with a puppy on the side. Oh things he could give her, the things he could teach her…

“Are you going to leave me, my lord?”

Benedict almost jerked at her address. No one had addressed him that way, except for a few women who had teased him for that lack of a title despite his wealth and prospects. Mostly in bed. He certainly did not expect it from one Sophie Beckett. Especially when he was fantasizing about Sophie as his mistress.

But Sophie’s tone held no teasing nor sultriness. It was almost childlike but hesitant and timid.

“Are you going to leave me again, my lord?”

Benedict noticed the quiver in her voice. It was the same tone Eloise used when he left school for Eaton, furious that she couldn’t leave with him, and would throw a tantrum every time holidays came to a close.

Are you going to leave me, Benedict? Again?

But while Eloise’s words were fumed with anger and frustration, there was a desperation in Sophie’s voice, a fear for loss, a fear for…abandonment. Almost as if she were begging him not to leave her.

What did she mean by My lord? Was it her former lover? A deceased partner? A former master? Thoughts wandered through his mind like a hurricane, but Benedict couldn’t help himself but go down on his knees and take her hand into his, softly caressing them as he had done every time with Eloise.

I’ll be back before you know it, Benedict had said gently as Eloise sobbed against his shoulders. You wouldn’t even notice that I was gone.!

With his knees on the bedside floor, Benedict finally saw that she was sobbing in her sleep, her endless tears gleaming in the candlelight.

“Please don’t leave me again,”

“I would never leave you, Sophia,” Benedict whispered, softly wiping off her tears.

“How could I ever leave you all alone?”

----------------------------------------------

Sophie woke up with the most terrible headache that she had ever had. It was as if humongous drums were banging in her head, and her body had never felt so heavy, so nauseous. Her throat was dying of thirst, but as she rolled over the covers, she was pleasantly surprised when she found a glass of water on the bedside table.

Ever so thoughtful, Sophie smiled softly. As she took a sip from the glass, she looked through the window, admiring the beautiful gardens that surrounded my cottage. Birds chirping in the distance, flowers blooming ever so radiantly, sunlight softly shining across her bedcovers….

Sunlight. Sunlight. ….sunlight?

Sheer panic was the only thing Sophie could feel for the next few seconds. With so much haste Sophie fumbled across the room, splashing water across her face, and rinsed her teeth to make herself, at least, presentable to Mr. Bridgerton. It had been years since she had overslept, and one time she did so, Armintia had torn her into pieces, punishing her with the terrible belt. Her fathers’s chocolate-colored belt from France. She could still remember the pain that struck her, the metal fittings that gouged her skin, staining the floor with sweat and blood.

Such a stupid, stupid girl, she cursed herself as she ran down the stairs. She could hear Armintia screeching in her head; you incolent girl, why do I even keep you here?! You foolish, lazy, girl. Good for nothing, son of a bitch…a child of a whore…Basturd, Basturd, Basturd….

“Oh, good morning Ms. Beckett.”

Benedict Bridgerton greeted her with a cheerful smile.

“You must feel terrible this morning. Aren’t you hungover, Ms. Beckett? I was hoping that you would wake up around noon so I could clear the mess…”

Benedict softly chuckled seeing Sophie look flabbergasted, her mouth hanging open in shock. He must have made a terrible mess, he was starting to regret even thinking that he could do it…

“You…you are not angry, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Why would I ever be angry at you?”

“Because I overslept!” Sophie burst out, “I haven’t got your tea ready, or your breakfast, or your eggs, your bacon, your toast, and I haven’t got your sugar and milk and”

“Sophie, I want you to take a deep breath.”

Benedict’s voice was achingly soft and tender.

Sophie could finally see that there was no anger or annoyance or hatred in his eyes there was glee, almost as if he was going to break into a grin.

“I’ve never seen you with such messy hair,” he gave her a teasing crooked smile, and she felt her cheeks burn.

“I didn’t have time to tidy them up.”

“I’m surprised that you even woke up, Sophie.” Benedict gallantly replied, softly brushing a lock of hair off her face. The morning light shined on her like a halo, her blond curls almost glowing. “Considering the amount you drank, I thought you would sleep till noon,”

“…Was I that drunk?”

He was, standing rather close to her, she noticed.

“You were so irresistibly drunk,” Benedict grinned at her so dearly. “So adorably drunk.”

Benedict took a step forward, narrowing the distance between them. Perhaps this is the moment, he thought quietly to himself, he could lean in a bit more and…

Sophie took a step back.

“I hope I did not say anything to offend you, Mr.Bridgeton.”

“Offend me? Oh, no, no, no, no. Not at all, Ms. Beckett. Not at all. We had a lovely conversation didn’t we?” He frantically waved his arms around him. “I did enjoy our midnight chats, truly. Very engaging, very educational, very intriguing, very interesting, very agreeable. Wasn’t it Ms. Beckett?”

It was NOT the moment.

“…I’m afraid I don’t remember what we talked about, or what I said…” Sophie peered into his eyes guiltily, awkwardly fidgeting over the apron ribbons. “Or at least, after your glass of whiskey, I must have lost control and caused you so much trouble…”

“No, no. no no no no no. No. No trouble at all, Ms. Beckett.”

Sophie finally regained the emotional leeway to observe her surroundings, and she finally noticed that Benedict Bridgerton looked quite disheveled. No, he wasn’t disheveled. He was in a mess. His soft brown curls were disarrayed as if he ran his fingers through them too many times, flicked with sawdust and ashes. His white shirt was stained with…something, and his dark breeches were covered with flour and egg yolks.

And Sophie noticed that it was not just Benedict Bridgerton who was in the mess. The kitchen was an absolute fiasco. Flour, eggs, milk, wood, ashes, everything she saw on Benedict was scattered on the floor, every pot and pan were scattered every inch of the room, and he had taken out every bottle of seasoning from cupboards.

Even a Roman army couldn’t have caused such a catastrophe, Sophie found herself thinking.

“I was thinking that I could clean it up before you woke up.” Benedict’s voice was meek as mice.

“I knew you would wake up late, and you’ve been taking such wonderful care of me, so I wanted to show you my gratitude.”

“Oh.”

“So I thought I could make you breakfast.”

“Oh.”

“First I tried to make a loaf of bread,” he muttered, staring at the bags of flour that lay under the table. In heaps of flour that were sprinkled across the table, Sophie could see some kind of a lump he managed to make.

“Until I understood that bread was not made from just water and flour.”

“..Right,”

“Next, I tried to make an omelet. Initially, I thought, nothing hard, is it? Just mix them up and put them on the stove…”

Sophie saw at least a dozen eggs smashed miserably on the floor.

“And that didn’t end well, did it?”

“I see.”

“So I decided to reheat the delicious stew you made for us last night.”

Benedict gave a sheepish look at the window. The handle of the ax lay broken next to the stump, while the blade was stuck horizontally to the stump, not the chunk of wood lying next to it. At least he tried, Sophie thought.

“Until I realized I didn’t know how to put on the stove.”

Sophie didn’t know if she should kiss him on the lips or just strangle him to death. It was infuriating, almost maddening, considering the mess he had made (And how much food he had wasted); but there was something so endearing about the fact that he had attempted to do something for her.

Sophie broke out in a small grin, and Benedict felt a rush of relief. He was beginning to feel quite anxious, seeing that Sophie hardly reacted to what he was rambling on for the past few minutes. She looked…quite happy.

“So, I decided to rearrange the wonderful stew with what I could find. To refresh up the taste!”

“It is a wonderful idea, Mr. Bridgerton.”

His eyes lighted up like a candle.

“Isn’t it? Please, Ms. Beckett, go on and help yourself. I’ve already got it on a plate right here. You don’t mind cold stew, would you?”

“No, not at all.”

Sophie took her seat at the edge of the table, trying to ignore the flour and eggs scattered around the floor. The stew did look different from the night before; when she had made it, it was in a lovely shade of yellow, but now…it was rather grayish.

What on earth did he use? Sophie thought to herself as she took a sip.

“Any thoughts?”

“….It tastes remarkably marvelous, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a terrible liar, Sophie?”

[hollowknightinsanity]

baby. fuck you

[Image ID: A black sketch of an infant bug, curled up on the ground with its eyes closed, drawn on a dull pink background. There is an arrow pointing at the child’s head with text that says, “Full of leaf”. /End ID]

This is Somber, the newborn child of Holly and my self-insert, who i still haven’t made.

Said self-insert is a silkworm moth, and I’m thinking of making him half-wyrm, but I’m not sure if I’ll actually do that

Anyway, logistics and uh. Lore ig? Under the cut

Ok, so. In my AUs, Holly (THK) is a hybrid between a Rootkin (White Lady’s species) and a Wyrm (Pale King’s species). Rootkin are strictly an egg-laying species, but Wyrms are capable of both laying eggs and giving live birth — it mostly depends on the environment/subspecies the Wyrm belongs to.

PK is part of the subspecies that gives live birth, but using his Soul magic, he’s capable of fertilizing eggs from laying species, such as Rootkin and Weavers, hence Hornet and the Vessels.

Holly takes after their mother — this is true across all my AUs — and as such, they adopted her reproductive system, so they lay eggs.

They had a condition that caused them to begin producing and laying eggs early, and started laying when they were 14. Now, this sucked for them in various ways; for one, early egg production and laying is very painful, and considering the state of their (mostly missing) organs, their pain was amplified tenfold when they started.

Secondly, if their parents found their eggs, they would immediately be outed as impure, and they did not want that. At the time, they thought that if they were outed, their parents would literally kill them — which isn’t true, by the way, but they had no way of knowing that — so they kept it a secret.

Initially, Holly attempted to just hide the eggs, but after a while, they started worrying about the hiding place being found, so they began destroying the eggs instead.

They laid once every two months, and every egg they laid was broken and thrown out. What exactly they did I’m unsure of, but I feel like they’d crack the eggs into some type of disposal area they made/found, and crush the shells into dust.

Anyway, they destroyed all the eggs they laid, except for one.

When they were 16, about a week before their sealing, they started thinking. They thought maybe, if they did get out alive, if they did escape the Black Egg, then maybe they could have a family. Keep the Pale King’s legacy going. They knew he was poisoned with Void and destined to die, so they thought that maybe if they survived, they could keep Hallownest alive by birthing an heir.

So, they took the last egg, and made a nest in the Queen’s Gardens, where they decided they would hide it, and they placed two Seals of Binding on it to protect it in case the nest were found by the Mantis Traitors.

The egg and nest were very well hidden, though, so nobody ever found it. Holly was sealed, and that was that.

Decades later, after escaping the Black Egg (which they heavily doubted they would, but hey, a bug can hope), they and my self-insert (who I’ll just call K here, I’m still trying to figure out a name for him) met and started a QPR. They ended up getting very close in their relationship, and Holly decided to carry out their plan from when they were 16. Though, instead of wanting to continue Hallownest as a kingdom, they just wanted a family.

At some point, after Holly gets quote-unquote “outed” to PK about their impurity (he knew since they were 10, but they didn’t know that), they ask K to come with them to the Gardens, as they had something important they wanted to speak to him about in private.

Some conversation happens, and Holly shows him the nest and tells him that they want to start a family. Because I need to be super self-indulgent when it comes to my writing sometimes, he of course agrees, and the 60-year-old binding-protected egg is fertilized, and later hatches into the itty bitty baby in the sketch, who Holly named Somber.

Google’s definition of somber is “oppressively solemn or sober in mood; grave,” and I believe that would fit the AU perfectly, so the child is named Somber.

For an in-universe explanation for the name, Holly would name their child after themself, I think. According to Google, a similar word to somber is solemn, which could mean either “not cheerful or smiling; serious” or “characterized by deep sincerity,” which both fit their life to a T.

As for when exactly this takes place, all I’m sure of is it happens after they out themself to PK. Maybe it’s somewhere around the same time the rain oneshot happens, or maybe a bit before or after — I’m not sure. It’s just around that timeframe.

Anyway thank you for coming to my ted talk, I will now sink into the fuckin. Swamps of Sadness from The Neverending Story.

[eldritchxembers]

Aris was 15 when he ran away, following the Grateful Dead with nothing but a backpack, his cat (with her harness and leash) a sketchbook, and the hope that life on the road would offer some kind of escape, after all - a life on the road was what his mother had raised him with - it was what he had grown up understanding. The grief from his mother’s death still gnawed at him, the fear of his relationships with Obi-wan and Optimus - his foster fathers - weighed heavy on his chest. He had realized that he loved them, and he wanted to stay part of their family — but what did that mean for his mother? Would she be replaced? Would he forget her? 

The Deadheads, with their carefree attitudes and endless wanderlust, seemed like the perfect cure.

But after a month, the fantasy wore thin. The music was great, the people kind, but the loneliness, the uncertainty, the constant search for a place to sleep began to wear him down. He hadn’t planned on being found, but of course, Obi-wan had other ideas.

Aris had just finished sketching the crowd in Chicago when Obi, with his hands in his jacket pockets and looking oddly out of place in the sea of tie-dye and patchouli, casually dropped down beside him, as if they were meeting as planned.

“Nice seats,” Obi said, settling in without missing a beat. His voice was warm, teasing, like Aris wasn’t states away from home - like he hadn’t left without a note.

Aris didn’t know whether to be angry or relieved.

“How did you find me?” Aris muttered, not looking at him.

Obi-wan chuckled softly, stretching out his legs. “Sky, you’re not as slick as you think. You think you’re the first runaway to follow a band he loves because you’re angry at the world? Been there, done that.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to find me.”

“Clearly.” Obi’s tone softened slightly. But Obi did find him, as Obi always did. With that quiet determination and the kind of dad instincts that could track a runaway across the country. Obi knew, of course, about the Dead. He wasn’t some square who had no idea what his rebellious son was up to.

They sat in silence for a while, the music swelling from the stage, blending with the hum of the crowd. Aris felt Obi’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t meet them. He didn’t know if Obi could see how far gone he was, or if Obi just knew more than he let on.

Aris expected anger, a lecture, something to break the tension. But there was none of that. Obi didn’t demand that he leave or guilt-trip him in front of the crowd. Instead, Obi just sat next to him, waiting, letting Aris’s own guilt settle over him.

“You’re not dragging me home?” Aris asked, unsure whether to feel relieved or suspicious.

“Oh, I’m dragging you home,” Obi replied, his tone dry but not unkind. “But I bought a ticket, so we might as well enjoy the show first. They’re about to play ‘Friend of the Devil’ You don’t leave before ‘Friend of the Devil.’”

It was the last thing Aris expected. He thought he’d be getting a hard talk, maybe a stern ride back home where he’d pack up his bag and he’d be kicked out. Instead, they stayed. They watched the rest of the concert.

Aris didn’t admit it at the time, but it turned out to be one of the best nights of his life. They didn’t talk much during the show—Obi just sat beside him, nodding along to the music while Aris sketched furiously, capturing the energy of the crowd and the lights and the freedom.

When the final song ended and the crowd cheered, Obi nudged Aris. “Now, don’t get me wrong. The Dead’s cool and all, but if you’re gonna spend your time with bands, we’ve got to broaden the scope. Ever heard of Jethro Tull?”

Aris stared at him. “Who?”

Obi laughed, as if the thought of someone not knowing Jethro Tull was utterly ridiculous. “Of course you haven’t. Listen, I’m seriously regretting not playing Aqualung for you earlier." Obi kept the mood light, cracking jokes and sharing stories about his own rebellious days. He talked about hitchhiking to music festivals in the ‘60s, how he once spent two nights sleeping in a tent that smelled like wet socks. Together, they walked out from the venue and Obi led Aris to a payphone. Aris knew what was coming. Obi handed him a quarter with a look that wasn’t asking, just telling.

“You’re calling Optimus,” Obi said, his tone firm but not unkind.

Aris hesitated but only for a moment. He took the quarter and stepped up to the phone, the dial tone ringing in his ear. He felt the weight of everything he hadn’t said, the things he couldn’t say.

“Hello?” Optimus’s voice came through, steady and warm.

“Hey, it’s me,” Aris said, trying to keep his voice even, even though his heart was beating faster now.

There was a brief pause. “Aris? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good,” Aris replied, glancing over at Obi, who wasn’t eavesdropping, but was still there, reading the back of the phonebook, but Aris suspected he was only pretending to. “I just… wanted to call. Let you know I’m alive.”

“Of course you’re alive,” Optimus said - tone sharp at the idea that maybe Aris could have been hurt or killed, and Aris could hear the worry. “Obi’s with you, right?”

Aris sighed. “Yeah. He found me.”

A pause. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad you called.”

“I’m sorry,” Aris said, his voice quiet. “I shouldn’t have run.”

“Hey, I’m just glad you’re okay. We’ll figure it out when you get home, alright?.” 

Aris swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

When he hung up, Obi was standing there, waiting. “You good?” Obi asked, his eyes soft.

“Yeah,” Aris said, more to himself than anyone else. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear Optimus’s voice until now. “I think I am.”

Obi slapped him on the back. “Let’s get going then, Sky. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

By the time they were in the car heading home, Aris had almost forgotten he was supposed to be mad or disappointed. Obi filled the car with stories, jokes, and laughter. “You think I’m joking? I once got stuck in a bus station for three days because I couldn’t read the schedule properly. But hey, that’s the charm of living on the road.”

When they got home, Optimus was waiting at the door. He didn’t say anything at first—just pulled Aris into a hug, solid and steady. It wasn’t the punishment Aris had braced himself for. It was something else. Something he didn’t know he needed.

The next day, Obi handed him a Jethro Tull cassette and then a small bag of additional tapes of music. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid,” he said. “But first, let’s start with the basics. You’ve got four months of being grounded to soak this in.”

Aris lay in bed that night, staring at the stack of tapes Obi had given him. The titles weren’t familiar, but the weight of them—the weight of Obi’s trust, his calm presence, his patience—felt different. Maybe it wasn’t about the music. Maybe it was about the way Obi found him, and how, despite everything, Optimus and Obi-wan welcomed him back instead of giving up on him.

THIRTEEN YEARS LATER

Aris burst through the door with a breathless laugh, his heavy combat boots thumping against the hardwood floors as he made his way into the living room. He didn’t knock. He hadn’t called ahead. The air was light and easy, the kind of evening that invited pure, unfiltered joy. Without missing a beat, he launched himself into the couch, flopping down between Obi-Wan and Optimus with a dramatic thud that sent a ripple of laughter through the room.

“Made it,” Aris said, throwing his hands in the air like he’d just finished a race. He stretched out, his long legs splayed across the cushions, his tattoos catching the soft glow of the lamp light. There was no hesitation in his movements now, no caution. Just the same pure joy that had always been there, but now it radiated from him in every action, every smile.

Optimus looked over at Obi-Wan with a small, knowing smile. They didn’t say anything. There was no need for words. The shift was undeniable. Aris, at 28, had grown into his space in the world, and his comfort, his ease, was the most noticeable change. The boy who used to hover in doorways, unsure of where he belonged or how to occupy a space, was mostly gone. In his place was a man who knew that at the least he belonged in the space his fathers’ built.

Aris rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his hand draped over Optimus’s knee like he’d always been there. His eyes closed for a moment, savoring the quiet comfort of being home.

No words were needed. He was home. 

It was the kind of setup that seemed perfect, the kind of family setup Aris never thought he’d have. The laughter of kids down the street echoed in the distance, but for now, it was just the three of them.

Aris had always been the wild one, rebellious in his youth, but now, he was a different version of himself. The frantic energy that once fueled him had settled into a quiet kind of confidence. His tattoos, which now covered most of his arms, chest, and back, were a map of his journey. One of the newest additions was on his forearm, fresh ink still dark, his homage to his fathers.

“Still not sure how you convinced a tattoo artist to mix Autobots with Jedi, kid,” Optimus joked, his deep voice steady as always, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Aris laughed. His fingers absently traced the edge of the tattoo. “I didn’t convince her. I think she was just relieved I wasn’t asking for something lame.” His eyes glinted, a playful edge to his voice that had become more common over the years.

Obi-Wan chuckled softly, shaking his head. He hadn’t been surprised by Aris’s choice—he’d known all along that the boy’s love for them profound. “You’ve always had a way with those who wield the needle.”

Aris’s smile softened. He had never been one for many words about what he felt. Emotions, for most of his life, had been things to either bury or outrun. But the two men sitting with him were different. His dads had always been patient, always knew when to push and when to give space. Tonight, though, it felt like the words he’d been holding back were ready to spill.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really said it, but I… I love you guys,” Aris said, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. It wasn’t a revelation. He’d shown them in his actions, in how he’d stayed close, how he never left. But still, those three words, the words he could never bring himself to say as a kid, felt like something new.

Obi-Wan looked over at him, his eyes soft with understanding. “We know, Aris. We’ve always known.”

Optimus, ever the protector, stretched out his arm and clapped Aris on the shoulder, a move that had been affectionate since Aris first came home to them. “Yeah, Bee. And we love you too. Always have.”

This family wasn’t just the life he’d been born into. It was the one he’d built - right alongside his fathers and his siblings. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever really… told you both how much I needed you,” he continued, his voice still quiet, but steadier now. “I’ve needed you more than I knew. All the things I ran from… you two were everything I needed to stay here, to stick around.”

Optimus’s eyes watered, and he cleared his throat, his gaze meeting Obi-Wan’s for a moment. “We’re glad you stayed.”

“Guess I’m just lucky,” Aris muttered, the words soft but true. “Got two of the best dads anyone could ask for.”

Obi-Wan ruffled his son’s hair. “We’re lucky too, Aris. You’re our son.”

[kirasigncomics]

EMERGENCY comissions OPEN!

My phone is basicly dead and I travel a lot and I can recieve and start calls but basicly thats it. I never broke a phone before but I decided to rather not fall as a pregnant lady in the rain and I dropped the phone instead.

And it landed on its side not just giving a big spiderweb crack on it but also destroying the color too so I cant see stuff on it on different spots.

5 slots of art comissions:

sketch: 10 Euro or 4000 HUF

Cell shaded: head 15€ or 6000 HUF bust 20 Euro or 8000 HUF Half body 25 euro or 10000 HUF full body 35 Euro or 12000 HUF

renered/gradient + 10 Euro or 4000 HUF

+ extra characters additional 10 Euro or 4000 HUF

If u ask for anything more than a sketch I will send a sketch for approval before coloring/rendering/animating. After the sketch approved I will ask for payment which after I recieved it continue working on the piece. If changes needed in the lines after its approved it will cost extra based on how much change needed.

If U want a sketch I will ask payment up front afteragreement.

Paypal only.

Animation/gif comissions are OPEN! 3 slots #animation2d #gif #fandomoc #originalcharacter #Comission #animation

1 second animation 1 character doing an action

or background

movement Can be loopable if asked

rough 40€/60/80 bust/half body/full body

rendered 80€/100/120 b/hb/fb

prices are in euro but I also accept HUF if its good for u. 10 Euro is equal to 4000 HUF at the moment.

[dollycas]

It is my pleasure to welcome Topper Jones to Escape With Dollycas today! Hi Topper, Please tell us a little bit about yourself. I’m the oldest of seven boys and was born and raised in Southern California during the surfing craze of the 60s. Over the years, I’ve had the good fortune of living on both the Pacific and Atlantic coasts and even spent a little over three years on the North Shore of Oahu. The beach is my happy place. Water sports (surfing, boogie boarding, catamaran sailing) are my first passion. My second interest is in self-defense, something I embraced in my forties after my home had been burgled. I studied Kenpo Karate, Aikido, and Krav Maga, tempered with a little yoga. So when I started writing the Thad Hanlon & Bri de la Guerra mystery series, it was only natural one of the characters (Thad) would draw inspiration from the world of surf and the other (Bri) a sense of empowerment from the world of martial arts. I find the fusion of surf wisdom and training in self-defense alluring, and the combo a fairly comprehensive skill set for sleuthing. Toss in my background in computers and software development, and the toolbox for cracking cases is complete. To be close to family, today I make my home in the Southwest desert, where my wife (also a writer) and I can scoot up and down I-15 to visit our twenty grandkids and four great-grandkids. We like to think of ourselves as writers on the run. Good thing we have laptops and cloud storage. What are three things most people don’t know about you? For one, I’m a high-school dropout who smartened up enough to find a way to finish my secondary education, earn a diploma, and go on to college, graduate school, and then a Ph.D. program. Secondly, when I was 18, I wallpapered the bedroom of my off-campus college apartment with manuscript rejection slips before selling my first piece of writing: A crossword puzzle. And thirdly, in my early twenties—rangy and a total lightweight at 145 lbs.—I made some Christmas cash in college by playing a department store Santa with the help of two bed pillows strapped to my waist. What books/authors have most inspired you? Early influences on my writing were poets (Walt Whitman, e.e. cummings, Allen Ginsberg, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti). As I gravitated to short fiction, I read everything by J. D. Salinger. Then, when I made the move to full-length fiction, I tried to emulate commercial authors I found engaging (Robert Ludlum’s early work, Raymond Chandler, Robert Parker, Robert Crais, and Michael Connelly). For novel structure, I rely heavily on the works of Blake Snyder (Save the Cat!® screenwriting series) and Jessica Brody (Save the Cat!® Writes a Novel). What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book? I research initial details for my character sketches, scene locations, and police procedure during the outline phase of a project. This usually takes me a month. But most of my research takes place as I write. While I’m penning the draft on the first monitor, I use my second monitor to research. ChatGPT is now my new best friend. Google is my second-best friend. Google Maps my next best friend. And Wikipedia my go-to for an overview and footnote references to definitive research sources on a subject. My favorite part of research is scouting locations. Especially if it involves being on the coast. That just means I have another opportunity to catch a few waves.  Do you ever suffer from Writer’s Block? Once. After completing what I thought would be a bestseller, I sent off my manuscript to a major New York literary agency for review and evaluation for possible representation. I soon learned my book was “Dead on Arrival!” The feedback was scathing. This was in the early 1980s. I put the stillborn novel in a drawer. I was besieged by crippling writer’s block, fearing I was wasting my time trying to write, dismayed I wasn’t a natural, and terrified that storytelling was beyond me. I told myself sad jokes: Why did the budding author buy a caseload of corn starch? He thought if he could find a way to add it to his novel, the plot would thicken. Truth was, for me, the plot never thickened because I had no clue how to plot. That first draft gathered dust in the drawer for the next 30 years. To find a way forward, I devoured everything on the language of storytelling. That’s when I came across Blake Snyder’s trilogy on screenwriting—Save the Cat!®, Save the Cat!® Goes to the Movies, and Save the Cat!® Strikes Back. I couldn’t put these books down. I just loved Blake’s first-person account of adventures in the screen trade and his fusion approach to writerly advice—part craft, part self-help book. And I was encouraged by his unquenchable optimism: “Given enough patience to find it, every story problem has an answer,” he wrote. My reality: I had a STORY PROBLEM. Cut to August 27, 2016, when I took a two-day Save the Cat!® Beat Sheet Workshop. It was in that workshop I learned my problem was (1) a matter of the right story pattern (my original draft was a mashup of two different kinds of stories) and (2) the need to structure the story with key plot points. Over the next two days, I zeroed in on the best story type (mystery) for my novel and nailed down what Blake Snyder calls the essential 15 beats. From there, it was only a matter of time before I was able to knock out the second draft, scene by scene. Writer’s Block removed! What advice do you have for someone who would like to become a published writer? Workshop your work! Whatever it takes, get feedback from people who are interested in your success. And be open to what fellow writers have to say. They can tell when something isn’t working, when characters behave out of character, and when your language isn’t capturing your intention. Listen and revise accordingly. You can often find writing critique groups at your local library or through state and local writing organizations. I found my “writing safe space” through Write On – St. George, a local chapter of the League of Utah Writers. Each week, the “Writers Improvement Group” (WIG for short) meets to review what we wrote since the last session. Knowing I need to have “something for WIG” motivates me to get words on the page. The weekly goal: five pages double-spaced. For me, my critique group functions as both a sounding board and an accountability group. Everyone needs a little encouragement. Especially writers! When you are not writing, what do you like to do? Surfing, jogging, traveling, seeing stage productions (especially musicals), screening (and analyzing) films with my wife, and of course, reading. If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? Let me start with the “why” first. I’m a perpetual student. I love learning. Love to take classes and workshops. One program I’d really like to attend is the Iowa Summer Writing Festival at the University of Iowa. Oodles of week-long classes, including some on writing mysteries. It’s on my bucket list. The “where” would be Iowa City, Iowa. What is next on the horizon for you? Book Three, of course. The story takes place eight years later. Zael is eleven and quite the surfer himself. He’s a member of the Five Cities Surf Team, Grommet category—junior surfers ages eleven to twelve, or “groms” in surf jargon. Zael, along with two other members of his surf team, are in the water north of Pismo Pier, competing in the California Central Coast Surf Trials, when a crazed marksman starts taking potshots at them. The sniper vanishes. Panic ripples through the Five Cities beach community. Thad and Bri are hired by a group of terrified parents to protect these local youth as they train for the West Coast Surf Championships. The duo soon discovers that the surf team members aren’t the only ones in the perp’s crosshairs. In a mad scramble, Hanlon and de la Guerra must keep the Five Cities Surf Team safe while unmasking the sniper before he strikes again. Thank you so much, Topper, for visiting today! _____ Keep reading to learn more about his new book, Oceano Beach Bedlam! About Oceano Beach Bedlam Oceano Beach Bedlam (A Thad Hanlon/Bri de la Guerra Mystery) Mystery/Detective Fiction 2nd in Series Setting - Five Cities area of the California Central Coast near Pismo Beach. Publisher ‏ : ‎ Wild Rose Press (March 17, 2025) Paperback ‏ : ‎ 398 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1509260218 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1509260218 Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0DSG8YN11 Hanlon & de la Guerra have gone full service. In this second book in the surfing crime-fighter mystery series, Thad Hanlon and his martial-arts-obsessed partner, Bri de la Guerra, hang out their shingle as newly licensed private investigators. Now in addition to fraud-busting, the two detectives do it all. Background checks. Surveillance. Even finding lost souls. Just about anything that requires sleuthing or going undercover. All they need is a client. That’s when a former exotic dancer from Bakersfield CA shows up looking for her surf prodigy son who’s gone missing in the wake of cult violence terrorizing the California Central Coast. More About Topper Jones   I’m Topper Jones and I pen the Hanlon & de la Guerra Mystery Series, featuring surfing crime-fighter Thaddeus Hanlon and his martial-arts-obsessed partner, Bri de la Guerra. The first book, All That Glisters, came out September 2023, and the second, Oceano Beach Bedlam, hit shelves on St. Patrick’s Day—March 17, 2025. Book three is near completion. Before diving into full-time writing, I worked in public accounting and consulting, and as a university professor teaching financial reporting, software development, and business communication. I’m a member of International Thriller Writers, an affiliate member of the  Mystery Writers of America, and serve on the board of the Write On—St. George chapter of the League of Utah Writers. To be close to family, I make my home in the southwestern desert rather than my native California, but when the surf’s up, I’ll head to the Pacific to get in a little “water therapy” and catch a few waves. Author Links Author Website    Author Blog    Facebook    Twitter/X     Instagram    LinkedIn  Purchase Links Amazon     Kindle     Barnes & Noble    Barnes & Noble Nook     Kobo TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops.  May 8 – Deal Sharing Aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 9 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT May 10 – Reading Is My SuperPower – SPOTLIGHT W/EXCERPT May 11 – OFF May 12 – Boys' Mom Reads! – SPOTLIGHT May 13 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT May 14 – Christy's Cozy Corners – AUTHOR GUEST POST May 15 – Maureen's Musings – SPOTLIGHT May 16 – MJB Reviewers = SPOTLIGHT May 17 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT May 18 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read – AUTHOR GUEST POST May 19 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT May 20 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – AUTHOR INTERVIEW May 21 – Frugal Freelancer – AUTHOR INTERVIEW a Rafflecopter giveaway Have you signed up to be a Tour Host? Click Here to Find Details and Sign Up Today! Want to Book a Tour? Click Here Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Read the full article

[marinespecialist1]

"Modern Techniques in Aluminum Barge Construction"

Let’s be honest—when you hear the word “barge,” you probably picture a giant metal platform slowly floating down a river, right? It doesn’t scream “innovation.”

But here’s the twist: the world of aluminum barge construction has quietly become one of the most exciting places in marine tech. We're talking advanced robotics, 3D modeling, self-healing coatings, and boats that basically monitor their own health.

Sounds wild? It kind of is.

What used to be a gritty, slow, metal-bending industry is now a fast, clean, efficient, and surprisingly sustainable process. And it’s aluminum—lightweight, durable, endlessly recyclable aluminum—that’s leading the charge.

So let’s walk through how the barge game has changed, and why so many aluminum barge builders are rethinking everything.

First off: Why aluminum?

Simple answer? It just works better.

Aluminum is:

Lightweight – about a third the weight of steel. That means more cargo and better fuel efficiency.

Corrosion-resistant – unlike steel, aluminum doesn’t rust, especially in salty water.

Recyclable – around 75% of all aluminum ever made is still in use. It just keeps going.

Put all that together, and you’ve got a material that’s cheaper to maintain, lasts longer, and is better for the environment. No wonder the aluminum boat-building industry in the U.S. alone hit $6 billion in 2023.

Everything starts on a screen now

Back in the day, barge design meant sketches, tape measures, and trial and error. Now? Everything starts digitally.

Using CAD software (Computer-Aided Design), engineers build incredibly detailed 3D models of a barge—every bolt, every weld, every load calculation is mapped out in advance.

They even run simulations to see how the boat will behave under real-world stress before anything gets built. That means fewer surprises and way less waste.

According to MarineLink, this digital-first approach can speed up production by about 30%. And in a business where time is money, that’s no small deal.

Cutting metal like a surgeon

Once the digital plans are locked, it’s time to turn them into real parts. That’s where CNC plasma cutters come in.

These machines read the design files and slice through aluminum sheets with jaw-dropping accuracy. Every part comes out perfect. No re-cuts. No guesswork. No wasted metal.

Compared to old-school manual cutting, CNC (Computer Numerical Control) machines are 40–60% more efficient. A barge building company using CNC isn’t just building faster—it’s building smarter.

Friction stir welding: cool tech, stronger boats

Now we get into the part where metal meets metal—welding. And honestly, this part is kind of mind-blowing.

Traditional welding melts metal to fuse it. But Friction Stir Welding (FSW) does something different. It uses pressure and heat from friction to “stir” two metal edges into one solid piece—without melting anything.

It’s cleaner, stronger, and much less likely to crack over time.

The American Welding Society says it improves fatigue strength by up to 25%. For a barge that hauls heavy stuff in rough waters, that’s a big win.

Built in pieces, put together like LEGO

Modern barges aren’t built from the ground up anymore. They’re built in pieces—modules—and then assembled like a giant floating puzzle.

This modular construction method means different teams can build different parts at the same time. It’s fast, efficient, and easy to manage.

The Marine Construction Council says it can cut overall build time by 20–35%.

So yeah, it's faster—but it also means repairs and upgrades are easier later on. Another point for smart design.

Robots in the shipyard? Absolutely.

Don’t worry—humans haven’t been replaced. But robots are definitely helping out.

In many shipyards, robotic arms handle repetitive welds with laser-sharp precision. They work faster, don’t make mistakes, and never need coffee breaks.

Human welders still handle the complex jobs—but this human-robot team gets more done, faster.

Bonus? Automated welding can cut labor costs by 50% and crank up output without sacrificing quality.

Not just any aluminum will do

Shipbuilders don’t just grab any old aluminum. They use marine-grade alloys—especially 5086 and 5052—for good reason.

These alloys are tough, saltwater-resistant, and super strong for their weight. Plus, they work beautifully with modern welding techniques like FSW.

That means better durability, fewer repairs, and lighter boats that can carry more.

Building greener, not just better

Let’s talk about the environment for a sec.

Sustainability is no longer a “nice-to-have” in this industry—it’s the standard.

Shipyards are:

Using recycled aluminum (which saves 95% of the energy it takes to make new metal)

Installing solar-powered welding stations

Running closed-loop water systems to cut waste

Many even go for ISO 14001 certification to prove they’re walking the walk. And according to the Aluminum Association, recycled aluminum can reduce emissions by more than 90%.

That’s not just good PR—it’s good business.

Coatings that heal themselves? Yep.

Even though aluminum is already resistant to corrosion, modern barges get even more protection with next-gen coatings.

Some of these are self-healing, meaning they literally “fix” tiny scratches on their own. Others use materials like graphene or nano-ceramics for even tougher resistance to sun, salt, and time.

Bottom line? These barges stay in better shape longer—and that means less maintenance and higher resale value.

Smart barges are here

Here’s where it gets futuristic: barges now come with sensors that track everything from stress in the hull to water leaks.

It’s all part of the Internet of Things (IoT)—basically, your barge is keeping tabs on itself and letting you know if something’s wrong.

No more guessing. No more surprise breakdowns.

In fact, a 2022 survey by DNV Maritime found that 62% of shipbuilders are already investing in IoT and digital twins.

And guess what? Many barge builders in UAE are leading the way here—delivering vessels that aren’t just built well, but built smart.

Final thought: This is just the beginning

Aluminum barge construction has come a long way from torch sparks and greasy overalls.

Now it's about digital precision, robotic speed, sustainability, and intelligence built into every square inch of metal.

The result? Barges that last longer, work harder, and leave a smaller footprint.

If you’re in the marine world—or just a fan of smart engineering—know this: the barge industry is no longer floating along. It’s moving full speed ahead.

[monriatitans]

Let's Read Some $#!7 by Mark Nelson, Phoebe Im, and Tessa Creative Art & Sarah E. White

Monria Titans

Welcome to another installment of Let’s Read Some $#17! In sum, the purpose of these videos is to introduce educational resources regarding the creation of video games, to promote literacy, to provide world-building tools for creatives, to provide books for the purposes of escape, and/or to get banned books into people’s view.

They go as follows: 1. Read the summary on the back of the book (if applicable). 2. Read the “Forward” and “Preface” (if applicable). 3. If there is no “Introduction,” read [part of] the first chapter.

If this is something you’re interested in, don’t forget to hit the “Subscribe” button!

Even though the purpose is education, I only read PORTIONS because of DMCA and Copyright.

Today, I read PORTIONS of 3 art related books from The Neverending Reading List:

Fantasy World-Building by Mark A. Nelson When artists and designers create a fictional setting, the milieu must be completely fleshed out, explained, and designed. In this book, comic and gaming art veteran Mark A. Nelson explores and demonstrates his methods for fashioning visually stunning, believable environments for fantasy creatures and characters. Scores of images and step-by-step examples illustrate how variation and experimentation lead to fresh, original designs for otherworldly beings, their environments, and their stories. Nelson discusses how to find ideas and borrow from history to add the strength of realism to a fantasy world. In describing the best ways to establish a habitat, he offers specifics about climate, terrain, flora, and wildlife. He shares insights into founding societies in terms of their means of survival, manner of warfare, spiritual practices, style of dress, and levels of technology. All visual creatives—illustrators, comic artists, and game designers—who work with imaginative material will take a lively interest in this source of inspiration and practical guidance.

Cute Chibi Mythical Beasts & Magical Monsters by Phoebe Im Chibi is Japanese slang for “short,” and the legendary monsters in Cute Chibi Mythical Beasts & Magical Monsters live up to this description with their roly-poly bodies that make them so loveable. Master this anime and manga drawing style with over 60 step-by-step tutorials of your favorite fantastical creatures, including dragons, mermaids, centaurs, unicorns, kraken, and more. Instagram artist Phoebe IM shares her tips and tricks for drawing chibi creatures traditionally or digitally; coloring, shading, and highlighting; and accessorizing for added cuteness. There’s also folklore sprinkled throughout the book for some extra fun. So, get out your drawing tools and start creating your mystical kingdom!

Drawing Fantasy Chibi by Tessa Creative Art & Sarah E. White Crack open your sketchbook, grab your pens and pencils, and get ready to turn your mythical illustrations into kawaii (cute) and chibi (small) creatures. With step-by-step instructions and easy-to-follow tips and tricks, this instructional handbook will help you bring a new level of anime style to your sketches. Start with a few familiar fantasy creatures, like a unicorn, mermaid, and dragon, before learning how to transform ancient, lesser-known beings like the basilisk, oni (Japanese demon), and kraken into adorable chibi versions. Whether you’re a beginner or a drawing pro, Drawing Fantasy Chibi makes this fun, anime-style drawing easy, with workbook-style pages that provide a space for readers to try their hand at practicing each illustration multiple times before they master it!

All book links above are affiliate links.

—

The Sunday, March 10th, and 552nd, Artist Shout-Out goes to Magdalena Węgiel! Check out the shout-out on Tumblr here!

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TIMESTAMPS 0:00 Welcome Gamers! 1:38 Artist Shout-Out 3:47 Just Chatting 5:28 Read Aloud Prelude 7:06 Background Image Change 7:55 “Fantasy World-Building” 20:52 “Cute Chibi Mythical Beasts & Magical Monsters” 34:35 “Drawing Fantasy Chibi” 40:26 Artist Shout-Out 41:20 Commentary/Closing 42:26 Bookshop 43:28 Farewell

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TO SUPPORT – Buy Me a Coffee: 15% of the proceeds go to Kids Need to Read! – MonriaTitans Summary & Links – MonriaTitans’ Bookshop – LRSS About Page – Throne Wishlist

[veinsfullofstars]

-opens wallet and shows you a mile-long photo roll of my babies-

(ID: A compilation of sketches between roughly 2018-2023, featuring a whole host of my original characters as well as some one-off designs, pose practice, AU variants, and filling the empty spaces with eyes. END ID.)

Again, it’s kinda weird seeing the style change happen over the years all in one place. Consistency? Don’t know her. All I know is that I love everyone here so very much, and I feel bad about hurting them in all the stories I imagine for them. You’ll all have happy endings, I promise, I just… need to actually write them down first. Haha, oops.

Also, for anyone interested, I’ve put a very simplified rundown of some of the named recurring characters you see in the sketches below the cut - any excuse to infodump about my brain children.

(OC info updated as of 05/13/24.)

NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 08/14/23.

—

Lily (she/her, age unknown): an old ‘sona and one of my first ever OCs, she is an ethereal being with a forgotten past, an obscured face, and the brightest personality you’ve ever seen; her job is to be an imaginary friend to children who need one, the substance coating her arms capable of manifesting shapes and stories that flow and dance through the air like color-shifting ink; she’s also friends with an undead zombie dog named Anthony (not pictured)

Circé Fellbrook (she/they, late 20s): one of my favorite OCs, she is a stoic assassin, carrying your typical tragic backstory rife with fire, loss, kidnapping, and torture, leaving her will cracked (though not broken) and her heart hardened (though not impenetrable); they are forced to work for the Organization (name pending) - a corrupt, cultish sect running much of her world’s political and ruling power from behind the scenes - recently sent with Everett (as his bodyguard, to her utter distaste) to act as moles within the resistance movement, tasked with gathering intel to damage the group from within; she likes to watch the sky on rainy days and dance in forest groves when no one’s looking; she also have a massive sweet tooth and a deep love for animals; in the future, they escape their confines, save the world, and learn to open up again, getting an eye patch, a cool leather jacket, and a queerplatonic relationship with an anarchist objecthead named Suzume, but she’s still a long way off from that; she also travels with a curious wolf she calls Love, who seems innocuous enough, but conceals a troubling secret, one that only Circé knows about, though even she doesn't understand the full extent of his nature...

Tegra Burnpike (she/her, late 60s): a stout, well-muscled woman of many hats - former captain of a not-so-legitimate merchant vessel, retired circuit fighter, one of the faction leaders of the resistance movement (the latter of which gives her the opportunity to befriend Edalisa, Sal, Geth, Everett, and even the standoffish Circé); she is loud, jovial, determined, and compassionate, just as likely to start a brawl as she is to bandage a wound; she loves company both platonic and intimate, happy to lend a patient ear, happier to share tales of her long and storied life (especially if it's over a strong drink); she is also restless, loose on commitment, seeking horizon after horizon for adventure, thrills, anything to quell the itch of standing still in one place for too long, of letting the regrets of the past catch up to her… also, in her free time, she collects little glass-blown animal figurines from all the places she’s been, her collection as vast and storied as she is

Sallion “Sal” Pessier (they/she/he, mid 20s): born of divine lineage (apparent in their sea-foam skin, single curved horn, tail, and dark scleras), they are a gentle being, anxious and bookish with a knack for magic; they endure a troubled childhood within a gated community of devoutly religious folk, resented and mocked by most for their appearance, including their own mother, the fanatical (and hypocritical) high priestess with perhaps more political sway than she should have; in their teen years, they manage to escape this cruel existence on a visiting theater caravan (another ally for the resistance) with the help of their beaten-down father, though he is unable to send the rest of their siblings with them thanks to the youngest ratting them out to their mother; since then, they’ve found sanctuary within the resistance movement as well as the more open-minded religious sects outside of their closed-off hometown, learning about the wider world in ways their old life would've never allowed them, they also gain their first real friends in Tegra, Everett, Circé, and Geth - with the latter eventually blossoming into something more… still, they miss the family they had to leave behind and hope to one day - when they've gotten stronger - return to free them as well before things get any worse...

Geth Evensphere (he/him, early 30s): mute from birth and covered in port-wine stain birthmarks, he is the sweetest, gentlest farm boy you’ll ever meet - a hard worker, good with animals, and a lover of nature and art, painting landscapes in his free time, he is staunchly opposed to violence, more inclined to shield than cause harm, and perhaps a bit too accommodating for his own good sometimes, much to the dismay of those who care about him; though not directly involved with the resistance movement, he and his family do what they can to help, covertly offering supplies and even lodging when necessary; he quickly befriends boisterous Tegra and charismatic Everett, finds a quiet kinship with reluctant Circé, and falls softly in love with gentle Sal; he does not remember his childhood, only that his adoptive parents found him stumbling through the woods one night, alone and disorientated, and took him in; he also has strange recurring bouts of body pain, which seem to have no physical cause beyond being tied to the phases of the moon, worsening as he’s aged…

Everett Stargleam (he/him, late 20s): the most punchable of my OCs, he is a spoiled theater kid from a rich family and an even richer town, his head filled with so much hot air and dreams that it’s a wonder he hasn’t drifted away yet; similar to Sal, he was born with a divine lineage from his absent father’s side, though his features are conveniently more passing (nothing more than odd-colored hair and a strong affinity for magic); though tangentially related to the Organization (his mother being a high-rank politician trying - and failing - to use her darker connections to fix the system from within), he mostly longs for stardom, to perform on stage in theaters around the world and gain the fame (and love) he longs for... though he's only managed to find a few minor roles in local stageplays between his (insufferable) university studies; thanks to his skills in persuasion and deception (and a bit of nepotism), he is sent with Circé to be moles in the resistance movement, which goes smoothly until Everett - confronted with the cruel reality of those affected by the Organization’s actions - starts shifting to the enemy’s side; he also ends up in a long-winded and unbearably snarky will-they-won’t-they with one of the faction leaders, a mystical, strong-willed woman by the name of Edalisa (not pictured), who may be more than she appears…

Amberette (she/her, 8y): a little orphan girl with fiery red hair and a sharper eye than she lets on, she has the ability to teleport short distances thanks to her abnormally high capacity for magic; she and her fellow "gifted" children live in a small, government-owned orphanage in an unassuming, government-owned town, living rather peaceful save for that fact that children routinely go missing for days on end for “check-ups,” returning weakened and sickly, as if the life has been sucked out of them; more furious than frightened, Amber starts looking for an escape, pushing her powers in secret and listening in on conversations between orderlies, hoping to find help before it’s too late; when a few (poorly disguised) members of the resistance come to investigate this very town, she starts subtly guiding them towards the truth until they manage to bring the whole operation down (though not without casualties and a few unexpected surprises); spoiler alert - she and most of her fellow orphans makes it out in the end, the latter receiving shelter within the resistance movement's more secure bases of operations, while she insists on staying with Geth’s family to help however she can, growing fond of both Geth and Sal especially, who fawn over her like doting parents in turn; her journey does not end there, though, for the end of the world will push her powers - and her courage - to their absolute limits…

Amity Georgette Tapia (she/her, 10y): an old Undertale AU OC and another favorite of mine, she is a tiny bundle of joy, pastels, and restless energy, asking a million questions a second and eager to jump into any new experience feet-first (something that might’ve contributed to the fact that she wears a prosthetic in place of her right arm); she loves bubbly music, being outside, and fish (oh, lord, please ask her about fish, she will babble on for days about anything fish-related) - don't show her spiders, though, she will cry; she learns that her SOUL is green while in the Underground, and her magic usually manifests in the form of protective bubbles, swarms of glowing fish, or bursts of bright, blinding light - notably, all more defensive than offensive...

Nerves (they/them, young): a Hollow Knight Vessel OC, they’re named for the fact that they are the most nervous little bug you’ve ever seen, always trembling or wary, their shell - half-cracked open and leaking on one side - always turning this way and that, clutching their vestigial wings around them like an old blanket; they also like to wear costumes, especially hats since they can cover the broken hole in their shell; they better manage their fear over time, growing more curious than careful, finding wonder in the places they see and hope in the distant Lights that call to them (though not every Light has their best interests in mind); they grow close to folks like Iselda and Cornifer (who take them in after a run-in with something bad in Deepnest), Sheo (who helps them discover a deep love for art), Quirrel (whose tales of life outside Hallownest foster their sense of curiosity and wanderlust), the Lost Kin (who was with them when they escaped the Abyss until circumstances separated them), and even Grimm (who teaches them about fear and how to walk alongside it rather than be controlled by it)

The others mentioned (Milagrosa, Riggs, Sandy, Jade, Edmund, Tony, and any unnamed folk) are more one-off designs or from stories I haven’t fully fleshed out yet, though I wouldn’t necessarily mind expanding on them if y'all were interested in the future.

[steelcityreviews]

FRINGE REVIEW: Civilized: A Live Podcast Experience

Company: Fable & Folly

Performers: Tyra Banda, Kristi Boulton, Michael Divinski, Sean Howard, Phil Johnston, Eli Hamada McIlveen + Guest Stars!

Improv in space, oh my! For the second year in a row the improv crew of Fable and Folly’s CIVILIZED return to The Staircase Theatre and the deep annals of space...and as we all know, in space everyone can hear you scream....with laughter. In an nearly sold out house, the audience is treated to a darkly comedic ride with this award-winning cast of improvisers as they battle the threats of deep space (or die trying)! 

This performance featured guest star Nicole Passmore from Toronto’s Second City. Her ability to work with the absurd combination of audience suggestions for her characters never seemed to phase her. What a fantastic comedic talent who volleys with ease with the rest of this equally talented cast. There are incredibly strong team dynamics throughout. They instinctively know when a sketch is losing momentum and when to move on or end the scene. Unfortunately/fortunately, this only allows the audience to give brand new suggestions and see where it leads our fearless and funny troupe. 

Recorded as a podcast, huge praise must also be given to the audio playfulness of Eli Hamada McIlveen and his extensive collection of sound effects for ANY occasion. Who knew there were whip cracks in space?! 

Since every show recording is original, no matter what performance you see, you are guaranteed a good time. Go and support this phenomenally funny production. You will not be disappointed.  

Event Details

Price: $12

Venue: The Staircase Studio Theatre, 27 Dundurn St N in Hamilton

Genre: Sketch Comedy/Improv, Theatre—Comedy

Duration: 60 mins

Warnings: Coarse Language

Age Suitability: Parental Guidance (ages 13+)

For tickets, please visit: https://hftco.ca/events/civilized-a-live-podcast-experience/

[rootcracks5-blog]

Sketch Crack is correct here to proportion the paintings for whole bright photos and elements during these several devices.