#as soon as i figure out their proportions welp

[spaceysketcher]

Hello! Ive returned from the void and I brought back PJO/Rise Crossover doods!!!

@pftones3482 has been writing it and i lose my damn mind every time she posts AND SHE JUST DID SO GO CHECK IT OUT HERE!!! LOVE YOU REBECCA!!!!!

[kirindensetsu]

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before  Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair.  I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

[ss-trashboat]

hi so. i’ve been contemplating sharing it anywhere since it exploded out last wednesday but. i’m gonna go for it and if i get slapped with the usual disappointment, well then i’ll just hoard them if more possibly happen and share with squad i guess.

for those who are new and don’t know, i used to write a lot. i had a whole novel idea out (i still want to write it tbh but lol feels) and have multiple universes of characters i worked with. however, being mentally ill combined with losing every writing piece i’ve worked on after my external hard drive corrupted itself, it’s left me with very weird emotions to my own writing and actually writing things.

welp, thanks to “folklore” giving me creative inspiration, i wrote a thing for the first time in over a year. and i’m gonna drop it here with hopes that maybe it can help rebuild my feelings towards writing. it’s an original thing, as i rarely write any pure fandom things (and if i do it’s primarily marvel ocxcanon things so lol), and this is part of a universe i created that takes place in the marvel verse so. take a gander if you want, and let me know what you think please?

"When you are young, they assume you know nothing"

He had heard it more times than he could count. Whether it was branching out, trying to make friends with the wrong kind of people, or a simplistic version softly slipping from the brunet's lips in a moment of his ramblings, it still stuck with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about it really. Of course when he was around members of the older generation, he seemed to pick up on the vibes they were giving. That younger people didn't really know anything, or they weren't as knowledgeable as the older crowd.

It infuriated him more than anything, though with the light of recent events, maybe there was some right to their words. Maybe instead of not knowing anything, they were just more gullible, or more hopeful when there was disappointment surrounding them with every passing year it seemed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a victim to that type of thinking. He more than anyone he knew held onto that tiny shred of hope for the future, and yet, he still ended up in the same place.

Leaning his head back to rest on the cool wooden surface of the bench, he blew a light trail of smoke from his mouth, watching as it faded into the night sky. It frustrated him, the fact that he still sat here in the usual spot, even though now he was only a half of the norm he had finally gotten adjusted to. Looking around was every familiarity the pair had claimed a memory for.

He sat up a bit, his gaze moving over to the streetlight, a bittersweet smile crossing his lips. It didn’t take much to envision the brunet in one of his rare drunken stupors, twirling around the light as he laughed that he was perfecting his next career opportunity. He had even pulled the pink haired man closer to him, gently shoving his hands up the baggy purple sweatshirt as he tried his best to do a standing lap dance.

And then he was snapped to reality. That he sat there alone now.

The smile soon dropped to a sneer, taking a drag off the cigarette in his hand as he pushed himself off from the bench. He wasn’t sure where he was headed next, all he knew was that he didn’t want to go home. The last thing he wanted to face was another night in an empty apartment he wasn’t even sure how he was going to afford for much longer. He was tired, but not in the way that a night’s sleep could fix.

Slowly stopping in his tracks, he was met with the streetlight that had been on his mind only a moment ago. He reached his hand up to brush it against the cool metal, softly tracing the details with his fingertips. How one simple object that everyone saw in their daily life could make someone forget everything reality had brought, just to give back one of the good days he wished he could experience again.

But given the option, would he?

He dropped his hand from the streetlight, bringing the cigarette to his lips as he shook his head. On and off, just like the light, was their entire relationship it felt like. Dimmer in the day when everyone was in view, but brighter in the evening when it was only them and the dark that night brought. Not to mention that everyone knew when it was broken, and everyone would come and try their hardest to fix it.

But unlike the streetlight, not even the most expert mechanic could fix what had gone wrong for them.

Leaving the trail of smoke in the air, he dropped the cigarette remains on the ground, stomping them out before shoving his hands in his pocket and moving on. If he stayed there any longer he knew he’d dig out his phone and do something he’d regret. He had already done it countless times before, always ending up with the same results, just to meet the same fate he was in now. Only now, now seemed to be the worst it had ever been.

He could feel the shape of the phone in his pocket as his fingertips brushed over it, his eyes dropping to the cobblestone path underneath his feet. He could only imagine how many messages were awaiting him if he brought it out, no doubt Wynn had already been blowing it up once the brunet had gotten back and told her what had happened.

How he had swallowed his pride and went over to the apartment, only to meet the dead eyes of the pink-haired man who couldn’t have even bothered to put his contact in. How Ian had given the same ordeal he probably had memorized at this point. How it was just his “clientele,” even though he had swore he was done with it. How it meant nothing, that Nate was blowing it out of proportion with what he saw.

And how Nate then slammed the door in his face, telling the brunet he never wanted to see him, let alone be touched by him ever again.

All that had engulfed his brain in that moment was everyone’s reactions when they had found out. That they knew what kind of man Ian was. He had been in questionable situations since he was sixteen, being wrapped up with the wrong people. He would pretend to love someone for a night, using his abilities to give them the time they had only thought of, only to take his paycheck and leave before the morning sun could break. Nate would always defend it, saying he wasn’t the best either, even having three years in prison to back his claims up, so maybe they were meant for each other.

He’d try his best to explain it, that what they saw and knew wasn’t what he knew. How he knew that the brunet’s laugh was one of the sweetest sounds he had ever experienced, and he would try everything he could so he could hear it. How Ian’s own self-deprecating humor matched his own, possibly being worse than Nate could ever imagine his being, leading him to question if it was even a joke anymore or his own self-hatred oozing out. How the pink-haired man had seen him at his worst, broken after a nightmare brought him back to the night he had his youth ripped away from him and led to the life he now lived.

They claimed they knew him, but Nate knew him too, in a way that no one else could possibly ever know.

Reaching a hand out from his pocket, he brushed it against his face, trying to not notice the slight dampness around his eyes. The last thing he needed was to have a moment out in the open, with the possibility of running into one of their mutuals and seeing him look like the wreck he was on the inside. If he could run to his apartment before it exploded, that would be the best outcome.

But why. What was the point of going home. What was the point of anything at this point.

He didn’t know what he felt anymore. He felt deceived, like he had been lied to and led on this entire time. That even though he was the first to ever get close to the brunet, the first he ever uttered those three words to, he was still thrown to the side like last year’s old cardigan that was no longer useful. They had gotten knee deep into each other’s lives, digging through every detail of the skeletons they had locked away in their closets, bared their souls and every fear they both had.

Just to find the brunet in the arms of a busty blonde, watching her manhandle Ian in a way the other man couldn’t ever dream of doing.

Maybe he was lying to himself this whole time. How it wasn’t true when Ian would say he’d always go home to him, that Nate was his favorite. How maybe the person he had fallen for wasn’t real and was just a facade he had hoped the brunet would be. How everyone had been right, that he really didn’t know anything. How he was right and that he’d end up alone.

Brushing his sleeve across his face to take the tears away from his eyes, he pressed on to the familiar building he had called home, though it didn’t feel much like home anymore. He probably should instead examine the alleyways leading to the building beforehand, as he was sure he’d be claiming one of them as his own before he knew it. He just wasn’t sure about much of anything anymore. His whole life was once again crumbling before his eyes, and for once he couldn’t blame it on his abilities. No, instead he could blame it on being naive and not listening to everyone in the beginning, for falling for the wrong person and having his heart become his own personal punching bag.

And as much as he hated to admit it, given the chance, he’d probably go back to him. Just to have it all happen again.

He froze in his tracks, slowly lifting his gaze to meet another familiar sight. Instead of heading to his own apartment building, his subconscious had brought him to the building that his group of friends called home. His heart rose a bit, seeing the lights on in the room he had been in too many times to count. If the lights in Ian’s room were on, that meant he was there, and given what hour of the night it was, it meant he wasn’t out “working.”

Watching as the familiar figure appeared in the window, his eyes widened as he saw Ian look down at him, like he had known he was going to show up there. Or, maybe more, the brunet had hoped Nate would arrive, much like he had hoped that this had all been a horrible nightmare he was having and that he’d wake up in Ian’s arms that he had gotten accustomed to. Yet there they both were, knowing the events of the week were unfortunately real, and Nate would openly admit that he’d punch the brunet square in the face if given the chance after what Ian had put him through.

He thought about it, going up there and screaming every emotion he was feeling in the moment. But why. Just so Ian could twist his words that he did so well and the pink haired main would be wrapped around his finger and end up back in his bed. And as much as he hated to admit it, he would be fine with it. It would mean he’d be back in the brunet’s arms and it could maybe feel normal again.

No.

A sneer fell back on his face as he shook his head, watching as Ian turned away from the window. As much as he wanted that closure, to hope that it was the brunet having a moment of being inconsiderate and that what he had been saying was true, Nate just. Couldn’t do it to himself again. Not after this time.

No, Ian was going to have to work hard to even have the pink haired man’s time of day, let alone be able to step foot in his apartment again. Nate wasn’t going to throw away his feelings, his pain, just to be able to have peace of mind again. He knew he could do better, that he deserved better, and if that meant doing as Ian himself had suggested and leaving to live full-time at the school, he’d do it.

Before the brunet could look his way again, Nate spun on his heels to head in the direction of his building. He knew this wasn’t going to be the last time he’d end up here, or have Ian at his doorstep, but he needed time. Time for the pain to heal and to eventually listen to whatever bullshit spewed out of the brunet’s mouth, hoping that maybe it would be what he hoped for instead of Ian ending up with a fist in his face. Whatever it ended up being, he’d try to be ready, even if being ready meant packing up his bags and leaving it all behind. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to leave, but if it’s what it came do, he’d do whatever was best for him and whatever sanity he had left.

[play-read-write]

Adventuring/Birthday Party

Ruby’s birthday is going well when it gets interrupted by grimm. Now its up to team RWBY to stop them and still get back in time to open presents. (Just something for Ruby’s birthday and Halloween. 3831 words)

........

Ruby adjusted her cape over her combat skirt, a black and pink one with fake jewels put on it and a couple big ribbons, making sure it didn't cover too much. She'd put a lot of work into her costume and she didn't want to just hide it the whole time. As she did Weiss walked out of the bathroom behind her, wearing a very ostentatious dress of her own. "Wow, that's a big one." She says, looking at it in the mirror. 

"I like the helmet." Yang says, currently sitting on Weiss' bed in her pinstripe suit. 

"It happens to be from a classic opera." Weiss says as Ruby steps aside, looking herself over in the mirror as well. 

"It looks good." Blake gathers her own outfit as well and heads into the bathroom. "I'll just be a few minutes." 

"Thank you, Blake." Weiss says. 

"Hey, I never said it looked bad." Yang says, "In fact I said I liked the helmet. It's cool. Got horns on it." 

"I sensed sarcasm." 

"Nope... Okay maybe a tiny bit, but only cause it’s just so much. It does look good though." 

"Thank you. You look fine as well." 

"Oh, I'm always fine." Yang grins and adjusts her hat. 

"Ha ha." Weiss rolls her eyes. 

"I'm wearing a suit, of course I look good." 

"Well at least you're not lacking in confidence." 

"Why would I be when I look like me?" 

Weiss side-eyes her for a moment and then adjusts a button on her outfit in the mirror. It's then that Blake steps out and they all turn to look at her, seeing the heels, long skirt, and button up white shirt tucked into it, with a tie and a pair of glasses as well, and of course her signature bow to hide her ears. 

"Wow Blake, going for sexy librarian? Didn't expect that." Yang smirks. 

"No?" Blake says and looks down at herself and then at her team. "It's just librarian." 

"I think we're going to have to credit this to Blake herself as opposed to the costume." Weiss says. 

"What?" Blake raises an eyebrow. 

"Weiss just said it’s you that's sexy and not the costume." Yang laughs a bit. 

"I... it was only in response to your comment!" Weiss blushes a bit. 

Ruby chuckles. "You look good." She says. "At least we can all agree on that." 

"Thank you, I suppose." Blake says. 

"So, is everyone ready then? We can meet up with JNPR and then head down to the ballroom together for the party." Ruby says, looking at each of them. 

"Ready and waiting." Yang stands up. 

"I'm good." Blake says. 

"Obviously." Weiss adds. 

"Alright then. Team RWBY..." Ruby pulls out a long wand with a crystal heart on one end and a figure of a Crescent Moon on it and points it at the door. "Go!" She says and leads the team out the door... about three steps to the JNPR dorm, where she knocks. 

The door opens and Nora is there. On seeing them she opens it wider. "Oh, hey guys! We're almost ready." She says. 

Yang lets out a low whistle. "Sexy nurse. Nice." 

"I know, I ROCK this!" Nora says, pumping her fists, wearing a white skirt, stockings, and a top with a bit of a V in it and a red cross, as well as a white nurse's hat and a pair of white shoes. 

"Lots of white. Almost think that was one of Weiss' outfits." Ruby says. 

"I wouldn't mind if she wore that." Yang chuckles. 

"Oh, hush you." Weiss says. 

"Hey guys." Jaune then says, walking behind Nora wearing some heavy looking white armor and a helmet with a visor on it, his sword and shield at his side. 

"A knight huh?" Ruby asks. "Cool." 

"Yeah we decided to pair off for our costumes. I'm a knight. Pyrrha is a princess." 

"Ren's a doctor." Nora says. 

"Sexy doctor?" Yang asks. "To match a sexy nurse?" 

"Hey, eyes off." Nora says but grins. 

"Nora, are you going to let them in?" Ren asks then as he moves into view and sits down on his bed, dressed up in a long white coat and a stethoscope around his neck, putting on his shoes. 

"We're just waiting on you guys." Ruby says. 

"Just a minute!" Pyrrha calls out. "I'm almost... done." She says and there's a sound of a door opening as she walks out, wearing a flowing dress with puffy sleeves and a conical hat with a ribbon on it. 

"Ohh, pretty." Ruby says. 

"Thank you, Ruby." She gives her a nod. 

"Are we all ready then?" Ren asks as he stands again. 

"Looks like it." Jaune says. "Let's get going." 

"Teams, away!" Ruby says, pointing her wand again and beginning to lead the way down the hall. 

"Think we'll see many good costumes?" Yang asks. 

"I'm sure there will be quite the variety." Blake says. 

"It's Halloween, some will be great, some will be awful. Some will be impressive; some will be trashy." Weiss says. 

"As long as there's candy, cool costumes, and some weapons, I'll be happy." Ruby says, "And I still plan on having our own thing after! None of you are to forget my birthday party." She turns and walks backwards, pointing at them with her wand. 

"May evil befall those who forget a magical girl birthday party." Yang says with a chuckle. 

"Dang right." Ruby turns to walk forward again. Leading the way, they make it down to the ballroom, finding it already with people inside, orange and black streamers along the ceiling with matching balloons. Tables with punch, cookies, candy, and other snacks. And of course...

"Hey! They got a fog machine!" Yang says, noting the layer of fog covering the flower. 

"It's Halloween. It's allowed to be gaudy." Weiss says. 

"That's my birthday you're talking bad about!" Ruby protests. 

"Says the girl with rhinestones glued to her costume." 

"They are sparkly!" Ruby points her wand at her. 

"Your point?" Weiss crosses her arms. 

"This is pure magical girl awesomeness! Respect it!" Ruby says. 

"Alright you two, let's just get to the party." Yang says. "Oh hey, sexy cop." 

"Yang please don't make a joke about handcuffs." Ruby says. 

"Fine, but only cause it’s your birthday."

"Yesss, magic birthday powers!" 

"There's no such thing as magic birthday powers." Weiss says. 

"Really? Cause when I ask for extra candy cause it’s my birthday people always gave it to me." 

"That's not magic." 

"Close enough." 

"Well, we gonna chat about that or are we gonna party?" Yang asks. "Who wants to dance with me first? No volunteers? Eenie meenie minie... Nora! Let's kick it!" 

"Heck yeah! Party time." Nora cheers as she and Yang head out to the dance floor. 

"I'm gonna get some punch and cookies." Ruby says and heads over to the bowl. 

"Would you care for a dance?" Weiss asks Blake.

"Sure, why not." Blake smiles and they head out as well. 

As Jaune and Pyrrha head out to the dance floor as well Ren walks over to join Ruby at the punch bowl, getting himself some as well. "Happy Birthday." He says. 

"Thanks. Happy Halloween." Ruby says and takes a bite out of a cookie. "It's a good party isn't it?" 

"We haven't been here long, but it does seem to be." He says. "There are quite a few different costumes, aren't there?" 

"Totally. Some of them are pretty cool." 

"Yours is quite well designed as well." 

"Thanks. You make a good doctor. I'm guessing Nora picked it?"

"Yes, couples costumes were here idea. Though her original idea involved me not wearing a shirt underneath." 

Ruby chuckles at that. "Yeah that sounds like Nora. We had to veto one of Yang's costume ideas cause it was skintight. The character was cool, but the outfit isn't something you wanna actually wear." 

"Yes, there are a number of characters like that." He says and takes a drink, falling silent as Ruby does the same. After a bit he reaches over and gets a second cup of punch, holding it out as Nora then starts to come over and takes the punch, drinking half of it in one go. 

"Whew! What are you two doing just standing here? Come on and party!" 

"I'm not really much of a dancer." Ruby says. "Especially not in this dress." 

"But it’s your birthday! Aren't you supposed to have fun?" 

"I'm fine. Besides there's still the after party later. That's more my style." 

"If you say so." She says. "You though." She points at Ren. "It's dancing time." And she downs the rest of her punch. 

"If you want." He says and finishes his own before heading out with her as Weiss, Blake, and Yang come over. 

"Welp my dance partner ditched me. Who’s next?" Yang asks. 

"Not me." Ruby says. "I don't dance. You know that."

"What about you two?" She looks at Weiss and Blake. "One of you wanna dance with a good-looking gal?" 

"I would but she already said she doesn't dance." Blake says with a small smirk. 

"Ha! You got got." Ruby says. "Also, aww, thanks Blake." 

"I'd argue, but she is adorable." Yang says. "But still, that means it's Weiss' turn instead." 

"I don't remember agreeing to those terms." Weiss says. "Fine though." 

Just as they turn to head out though an alert goes off, every scroll in the ballroom beeping. They all pull them out and look as an announcement goes off overhead, Ozpin's voice coming over it. 

"Students and Faculty, we have an emergency situation. A number of grimm are approaching the city in mass, it is time we fulfill our duties as huntsmen and huntresses. You have received your missions. Airships are standing by. Good luck." He says and there's a click as it ends. 

"We're in the west, sector Seven B. Let's get our weapons and go." Ruby says and her team nods as they all run out, along with many others. Heading for the locker room they all grab their weapons. Ruby steps over to Weiss to speak with her for a moment, getting a nod in return. "Alright girls, let’s go get on an airship." 

"Right." They confirm and head out. Soon enough they're on an airship, still in their Halloween costumes as they don't take time to change. 

"I can't believe it, grimm on Halloween." Weiss says. 

"Well, they say that the holiday started because it’s the day grimm were most active. There's even myths of grimm made entirely of human bones coming out." Yang says. 

"That's probably one instance of a geist possessing an improperly buried skeleton blown out of proportion." Weiss says. "And an excuse for a holiday." 

"Whatever the reason, it’s the best birthday ever!" Ruby says. "I get to fight grimm, wear my Halloween costume, eat candy, and then get presents! It's awesome." 

"You do realize this is life or death, right?" Weiss says. 

"And you realize this is literally what we signed up to do right?" Ruby asks. 

"Yeah come one. Lighten up." Yang says. "We'll clear out the grimm no problem. They've got like, half the school on this job. It'll be a piece of-" 

"Wow!" Ruby says, looking out the side. "Is that grimm or an army?" 

"That is a lot." Blake says. "There must be hundreds of them." 

"I've never seen grimm like that." Weiss says. "What are they?" 

"I don't believe it." Yang says. "It's bone." 

"Skells." Ruby says. "I thought they were just myths." 

"Well they're here now." Blake says. "Let's just worry about killing them." 

"Right. Let's get out here. Team RWBY, go!" Ruby says and then jumps out the side of the Airship, her team following her. 

Firing at the ground she slows her descent, landing in a roll and bringing her weapon up, still in gun form. She immediately fires at the grimm, large skeletal beings, made almost entirely of the same kind of white bone armor as the grimm, with only spots of black flesh peeking through at the joints and inside their mouths, the eyes glowing red. Their limbs were long, with fingers almost as long as their forearms, and legs bringing them up to taller than most people. 

Her shots ring true, blowing the heads off of one, and then destroying another's spine. The one with its head gone falls and stops, but the other one collapses and begins to drag itself forward without its legs. At this all of the others then begin to move faster, now rushing at her as the rest land beside her. "They keep moving unless you take out the head. This is our sector; we have to stop them ourselves." 

She turns to Weiss. "See if you can freeze them in place. Go for the legs. They don't seem exceptionally strong." She looks at Yang. "Aim high. We need to take out the heads. If they get on the ground though we can crush them after." Turning to Blake then she adds, "Try to hit as many as possible. They're more solid than beowulves but their armor isn't as thick as a deathstalker. We should be able to take them out." 

Weiss steps in as Ruby speaks with the others. She raises a series of glyphs in front of them and her blade begins to glow a light blue, fog forming over it. With two fingers out she pushes her hands forward, sliding the glyphs along the ground. A thin sheet of ice formed under the grimm, freezing their feet. Immediately they stopped moving, letting out a sound between a rattle and a cry. 

"Go!" Ruby says and dashes in with a burst of speed, swinging her scythe high and tearing through the heads of a few of them. Already she could hear the ice cracking as the grimm began to break free. It wouldn't hold long but if they could thin the numbers it'd be a major help. Beside her Blake gave a hard swing, a slash of purple energy cutting through the skulls of half a dozen of them, and Yang lets out a volley of shots, destroying another dozen from the shoulders up. 

One breaks free of the ice next to her and lunges, but she slashes in return, cutting it in half. It misses as it goes past her, cutting through one of its own. However, with their heads still attached this only freed up their movement as well as one began to crawl at her and the other put its hands underneath itself, running on them like legs. Behind her two more try to grab her and she jumps to dodge them, then fires to give herself some spin as she cuts through all them around her, taking out their heads, and then brings her scythe down on one of the crawlers, before firing at the others. 

The shot however destroys the feet of a couple others, causing them to fall and begin crawling towards her as well, while others began to break the ice. A wave of fire burst in front of her, burning up the crawlers and a few others completely.

"Be careful. There's a lot of them." Weiss says and then turns and stabs one in the eye. 

"Turbo time." Ruby says and switches position, her rhinestone dress glittering in the moonlight as she switched cartridges and took a low stance, Crescent Rose pointed behind her. She fires and activates her semblance, swinging her blade as the burst of speed carries her forward. She cuts some in half, takes others heads of, dicing apart limbs and spines and skulls as she fires and slashes. 

As her cartridge empties she's standing in the middle of an empty area, grimm dissolving around her. That wasn't the last of them though, as there were still many more around, now nearly all of them having broken through the ice. 

"Ruby this isn't going fast enough." Weiss says. "We're thinning them but we're going to run out of dust before we run out of grimm." 

"Then we fight without dust." 

"This many?" 

"She's right." Blake says. "We can do a lot but there's probably still dozens of them here." 

"Is that all?" Yang says. "You guys are overreacting." She raises her foot, stomping one crawling on the ground towards her, and then fires a shot at another group doing the same. "Stupid things are even more annoying on the ground." 

Ruby blocks a hit from one and cuts it in half, then swings again to take out the head as she changes clips. "I know it’s annoying, but we have to keep going. Just try to conserve dust. We can do this. They're not very strong after-" She's cut off by a deep low rattling sound that reverberates through the air, causing them to shiver. 

"What was that?" Weiss asks, but they don't have time to respond as the grimm then begin to turn around and move away. 

"Are they running?" Yang asks. 

"I don't think so." Blake says as the grimm begin to gather in one spot, what's left of them stacking on top of each other. Their bodies snap in places, coming apart and reforming. 

Ruby steps back and regroups with the others as the grimm form together, now towering over them. Eventually it settles into a gigantic grimm, looking like a half of a skeleton, make entirely of the bones of the smaller ones. A skull made of dozens of other skulls glares down at them as red light forms in its eyes and it lets out a sound, one large cry made up of the synchronized rattling cries of all the others at once. 

"That is just disturbing." Yang says. 

"No, it's also very big." Blake says. 

"That's what she said." Weiss says, causing them all to look at her. "What? Is that not how it works?" 

"No, just not the time. Good effort though." Yang says. 

"Uh guys, it's attacking!" Ruby says and fires, propelling herself backwards as it swings one long skeletal arm.

Weiss in turn jumps through the fingers as Blake uses her semblance to dash out of the way. Yang on the other hand braces herself, taking the hit. She holds out for a moment before drawing a fist back and slamming into the finger that had caught her, shattering it and letting the rest of the hand go past. However as it does it begins to shift, the finger growing back as the bones rearranged. 

"Weiss, you did what I asked right?" Ruby asks. 

"Of course." 

"Call it in." 

"On it." Weiss pulls out her scroll and taps a few buttons. 

"What is that supposed to be?" Yang asks. 

"You'll see. In about three... two... one." Ruby says, and nothing happens. "Okay three, two-" A rocket locker goes flying overhead and crashes headfirst into the shoulder of the grimm. "Crap that was supposed to be dramatic. Oh well." She says and points her gun at the locker, firing a single shot. As soon as it hits all of the dust packed into it goes off, blowing the arm and half of the skull apart. "Boom! Ha suck on that!" She says. 

However, it begins to shift again, the bones moving as it reforms itself. It was smaller now, having less material to make itself out of, but still looked down at them. 

"Oh come on!" Ruby slumps her shoulders. "Fine. Freezerburn!" She shouts. Yang doesn't hesitate to jump into the air as Weiss forms the ice beneath her, landing on it to make a dense fog. The grimm, towering over the fog, looked down trying to find them. 

"Ladybug!" She shouts, and Blake dashes forward, slashing at the spine. She meets Blake's slashes with her own, back and forth, chipping away at it. As it tries to grab at them they jump and Blake comes down, slashing across one arm before Ruby comes down as well and cuts it off. It immediately begins to regrow, but Ruby calls out again. 

"Ice Flower!" She says and glyphs appear in front of her. She fires first at the stump, stopping the arm from regrowing, and then at the joints on the other arm. 

"Bumblebee!" She shouts and Blake throws out her scythe, Yang grabbing hold. Spinning hard she flings Yang at the grimm, smashing into it and destroying the other frozen arm. Now just a head on a spine the grimm was looking far less dangerous. 

"Ha! Gotcha." Ruby says and sticks her tongue out at it. "Nobody beats team-"

An arm bursts out of the front of the spine then, shoving itself into the skull and pulling out some of them before throwing a mass of bone armor at Ruby. Caught by surprise she barely manages to raise Crescent Rose to block. Instead of a solid hit though, the skulls cry out as the bones form around her and the arm shoves itself into the mass that holds her. A hand grabs her legs and she's yanked upwards, dropping Crescent Rose. 

"Ruby!" Yang cries out and fires at the grimm, but the bones thicken around where she hits to keep it from breaking. 

It raises Ruby up in front of its face and lets out its cry again as she hangs upside down and disarmed. 

"Well grr to you too." Ruby says, "But it’s my birthday and I have presents to open. So..." She pulls out her magical girl wand. The crescent moon on it pops out, dropping down as she points it at the skulls. "By the power of the moon, screw you!" And she pulls the trigger, the large crystal heart of dust glowing as it channeled all of its energy through the wand and blasted out, right into its mouth, before exploding outwards. 

It dropped her and she flipped to land on her feet as it began to crumble. The skulls not destroyed began to rain down, but without being connected to something they began to dissolve, as did the rest of the grimm. 

"By the power of the moon, screw you." Yang says. "Badass." 

"Hey, it was all I could think of." Ruby says. 

"Of course that thing was also a gun." Weiss rolls her eyes. "Where did you even get a dust crystal that large?" 

"Well..." Ruby gives a nervous smile. 

"Have you been going through my dust again!" 

"I was going to give it back!" 

"Speaking of going back, I think we're done here." Blake says. 

"Oh, right, we still got my birthday party!" Ruby says. 

"You ready to have the real highlight of the night; cake and presents?" Yang asks. 

"Always." Ruby grins as they turn and walk, pulling out her scroll to call for pickup. Time with her team, an action-packed night, and then presents and cake. Yeah, there may have been a grimm attack, but when it came to Halloween and birthday parties, she couldn't have asked for anything better. 

[dorcasavelinehill]

YOUR ARMS FEEL LIKE HOME - Ch. 1: Where I’ve Never Been

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747418/chapters/51883063

The children had made a wrong turn somewhere.  Shadows fell away, lost in the brightness of a search light.  The beam glided back and forth, and the children were center stage, on a dock without cover, with no darkness to hide in. Behind them, water.  No buildings to climb, no walls to scurry over.  The four boys thought, we need to swim for it, but then thought, no, the girl can’t keep up. She isn’t as fast in the water.  She needs land under her feet to make a clean getaway.

Between them and freedom, six - no, seven men.  Large, all towering high, and armed.  Four of the men had knives, two had handguns.  One seemed unarmed, but they remembered their fathers words.  Never trust appearances. The men slowed as they approached the kids, uncertainty making them hesitate.  One stepped forward.  The leader?  “What the hell are you supposed to be?”  The men lowered their arms.  They understood now, these were kids.  Weird looking kids, but kids.   Defiant, the children refused to answer.  There was a moment of silence as they exchanged looks. One raised a brow.  Another cocked his head, smiling.  The girl wrinkled her nose.  The third boy nodded.  The fourth inclined his head.   “It ain’t Halloween.”  The big guy in front tucked his gun in the back of his pants.  Dumb move.  Underestimated them.  “What kind of costumes -” “Sorry.”  The oldest child, the eldest boy, spoke up.  Soft voice, small smile.  “We’re not wearing costumes.” He charged.  The other four followed him.  Well trained. The men regretted thinking this was a joke. Swords slashing, coming down hard on the remaining firearm, before the man holding it could get his finger on the trigger. The rest was easy.  One blocked a knife swing.  Another ducked a punch.  They returned the blows, weapons sheathed, even the swords now that the gun was out of play.  They took damage.  You couldn’t go unarmed to a knife fight and not take cuts. The girl with them dodged and bounced like a jumping jack.  She lacked the natural armor of the other four, so had to be creative to stay out of the knives’ range.  The big guys were aiming at her, thinking her the easiest target. Her brothers took exception to these thugs targeting their sister. A knife thrust hard, should have been able to kill the victim, a straight shot to the liver.  Instead, the blade crumpled.  The guy holding it shrieked a swear and dropped the now useless weapon. Fist to his face.  He fell.   Block.  Dodge.  Punch.  These were kids?  They hit harder than most men!  And the girl might as well be a flea on a dog’s hide, fast and furious.  She couldn’t land as hard a blow as her brothers, but she only had to let them wear themselves down chasing her. Her brothers took the men down for her. One man went down like a tree in a forest.  Now the girl pounced.  Instead of fists, she wound zip-cord around the man's arms and torso.  It was a thin, lightweight, plastic-and-metal wire.   The thug fell on his face; she planted her foot on the back of his neck, caught his arm in a loop of the zip-cord.  Had him hogtied in seconds. The boys brought the men down, disarmed them, tripped them, laid them out prone.  They found the zip-cord impossible to unwind, impossible to break.  It didn’t bite into the skin like a regular metal cord would.  They couldn't snap it.  Only the clever little device on the girl’s belt could nick off a length of wire. Seven men, tied and helpless, hollering, cursing.  Asking what the fuck, what the hell?   A slap of duct tape across the lips.  Not a perfect gag, but it would keep them quite long enough for the kids to get back to the shadows. The youngest boy laughed, wiped blood and sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.  “Welp, that was fun!” “Yeah, let’s not do that again,” middle-kid said dryly. “Bye, guys!” the girl sang.  Red hair, sticky and wet with sweat.   They ran.  The men struggled to sit up, to get free, trying to see which way the children went. The kids fled the light.  Found the shadows.  Became the shadows.  It wasn’t a technique.  The girl’s night-time camouflage outfit didn't simply blend in the dark.  One moment the kids were there, three-dimensional objects in space.  The next moment? They might as well have melted like snow in July. All that remained was an echo of laughter.  The thrum of feet on the pier.  The whip of wind flowing around them. The big guy with the gun in the back of his pants stared at the empty space where they’d been a moment before.  He wondered if he hadn’t just seen his first ghosts.

*****

April loved summer nights. The biggest problem with New York City was that all the stars in the night sky weren’t visible.  There was far too much light pollution from the skyscrapers, and the compact city growing ever upward.  April found the lack of starlight disappointing, but the illuminated skyline almost made up for it. Instead of focusing on the vanished Milky Way, she trained her camera on Billionaire’s Row.  The buildings had a sort of stark beauty she liked, though if asked, she would admit the older, less minimalistic buildings were her favorite.   “Yer gonna lose it if y’aint careful.” Raph stood beside her on the edge of the XYZ building, watching her adjust the camera’s focus.  He had a bad cut from where one of the gang members had caught him with the tip of a knife blade, but aside from that, he’d done a good job coming out unscathed. The camera flashed.  She advanced the film and quickly took two more pictures.  “I haven’t dropped it yet,” she said without looking at him.   Raph watched April lean precariously out on the edge and grabbed her belt, arm extending as he let her swing out as far as she could go.  She needed to get the perfect angle for this picture.  One more shot, and she let Raphael haul her back onto the roof properly. The other three sat in the center of the roof, looking each other over for injuries.  Michelangelo had the first aid kit he wore on the back of his belt out, rubbing something April guessed was antiseptic over a bad wound on Leonardo’s shoulder, then pressed a pad of gauze to it before taping it down.  He completed the wound care by taping a Scooby-Doo band-aid on top of the dressing. Leonardo looked at Mike’s handiwork with a wide grin of amusement. Donatello had several nasty slashes on the inside of his elbow.  Mike cleaned up Don’s wounds, and graced him with a Spongebob bandage, which Donnie flaunted. April flopped down dramatically.  “It’s horrible! I’m exhausted!  I’m completely worn out, and I must be near death!”  She sprawled beside Mike like a dying woman begging for a drop of water. Mike held up a band-aid.  “I’m out of Barbie.”  He turned the bandage to show her Scooby-Doo. “Aw, come on!” “I’ve got Scooby for you.  But if you don’t want that...”  Mike dug through his first aid kit, tossing aside boxes with Batman, Captain Ryan, and Flintstones band-aids.  “Take your pick!”  He beamed at April, who graced him with a sour frown. “Do you at least have Disney Princesses?” Mike looked down at the boxes surrounding him.  “Uh, no.” April threw her arms up dramatically.  “I’m crushed!  Crushed!” Leo mock-frowned.  “What’s wrong with Scooby?  I got Scooby.”  He turned his shoulder to her, pointing to the Scooby-Doo band-aid slapped across the thick layers of gauze and tape. April rolled her eyes at Leo and flung the back of her hand over her eyes, trying to look like a tragic figure from a Renaissance painting, though she only managed to look like a gangly kid who hadn’t grown into her feet yet.  “I’m a damsel.  A princess.  A goddess!  I deserve Barbie on my band-aid.” Mike started tucking the scattered boxes back in the first aid kit.  “Well, since you didn’t actually get hurt, and you only want Barbie -” April thrust a pristine arm out at him.  “Gimme Scooby.” He found a random spot on her arm where she could show it off nicely and stuck the bandaid on her.   Raphael rolled his eyes and started cleaning up his own cheek, preferring to tend to his own wounds, rather than have Mike do it.  “I swear ta God yer both five.” “Seven,” April corrected.  “I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”   At fourteen, she had the awkward grace of a well-trained ballerina with too much leg and not enough hip or bust.   Her brothers were more well-proportioned, though one could tell by looking at them that they were going to get a lot taller, and sooner rather than later.  Well, if one could look at them without screaming in panic.   Or attacking.   Not too many people had ever seen them, but on the handful of occasions they were noticed, attacking and screaming were the default actions of whoever looked at them. They were giant turtles, after all. Leonardo was tall, about 5’9”, and getting taller.  April was slightly displeased with this situation because it meant he would be able to pick her up and dangle her upside down soon, which he had threatened to do the last time she’d stolen the last pudding pop from him, and the bossy bastard might just do it, too.   On his person, he carried his swords strapped to his back, extra zip-cord in his belt, and rolls of film April begged him to hold for her when she couldn’t fit them in her own belt pouch.   She considered him the perfect accessory - a purse that didn’t get cluttered because he’d refuse to carry too much for her.  At eighteen, he was the oldest son, and he made sure everyone knew it, especially when their dad wasn’t around.   Bossy bastard. April loved him anyway. With his cheek cleaned up, Raphael dropped to a crouch beside April, holding out his uninjured arm.  “I want Pokemon,” he said.  Mike stuck his tongue out, but found a Pikachu bandage and slapped it on Raph’s forearm.   Raph was sixteen but stood two inches taller than Leo.  He was a little self-conscious of his big feet that their father kept assuring him he would grow into.  He wasn’t always the easiest person to get along with, naturally rebelling every time Leo pretended to be an adult.  Sometimes he lost his temper, but April found ignoring him until he got out of his funk the best way to deal with his drama.  Most of the time, Raph was fun to be around, and he usually just indulged her in whatever she wanted to do.  Raph carried a pair of sai tucked in his belt. Michaelangelo, at fifteen, was the baby of the boys, and at 5’6” was still quite a bit taller than April.  He had the biggest blue eyes and the sweetest smile, and could always coax the others into some kind of fun or mischief.   It was actually Mike’s fault they’d gotten lost and had run into those bums.  Their father had shooed them out of the house with express orders not to come home before midnight, but not after 2:00 AM.  They still had time to kill, and Mike had come up with a great idea for keeping busy, but the boy couldn’t find his own way out of a paper bag if he had a compass and a map.   He always hauled around the first-aid kit, along with a pair of nunchaku and a bag he carried to hold whatever cool things he happened to find on their nights out.  Last count, he had two sea shells, a dirty magazine, and a police-style whistle, but April didn’t know if he’d added to his collection since they left home. Before she could poke her nose in Mike’s stuff, Donatello scooted beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her onto his lap.  “Did you get the pictures you wanted?” “Yep!”  She squirmed in his grip, getting loose and popping the film out of the camera.  She thrust the roll at him for him to take.  Donnie took it, freeing up her hands to reload the camera.  “I wanna get some more though, before we head back.” Don tucked the film away in his belt for her.  “Digital cameras don’t need film,” he teased.  April planned on Donnie spending his Saturday morning developing the film for her.  She was still learning how to do it on her own, but until she was more sure of herself, she wanted Don’s skillful hands at work on her pictures. “Film looks better,” she said, not looking up.  She wound the camera ahead until it was ready to start a new series of photos.   Leo was absently wrapping his toes up in Superman band-aids.  “Digital’s cheaper,” he said. April rolled her eyes.  “Mister Adult.”   Don was seventeen, second-oldest, but he never talked down to April the way Leo did sometimes.  He might pick on her love of “old-fashioned” things, but Don had a way of taking her seriously that Leo lacked. He was a studious young man, with a dry wit and a sarcastic sense of humor.  He was terribly subtle, sometimes so much so that by the time he’d insulted you twice, you were only just figuring it out. Altogether, April adored her brothers, and they treated her like their own little princess. Mike smacked Leo’s hand and took back the still-wrapped band-aids before their fearless leader could waste the rest of them.  “Hey.”  He looked around, squinting in the darkness to make out the skyline.  “I think I know where we’re at now.” “Uh-oh,” Don breathed, and Raph snorted, “Right.” “No, really, I do!  Look, if we head two blocks west, four blocks south, the store’s right there.”  Mike pointed as if there were a building just beyond his fingertip.  “We can be there in five minutes tops.  Tops!” “Isn’t that what he said an hour ago?” Don asked Leo lightly. “You mean, right before we got jumped?  Yes, I seem to recall -” “I’m serious this time!”  Mike hopped to his feet.  “Come on, it’s like, ten-to-midnight, and he probably isn’t expecting us until about one!  We got time.  Unless you want to go home early and go right to bed.” Raphael snorted.  “Oh, hell no.  C’mon, it’s better than bein’ stuck inside.” Don rolled his eyes, but stood up with the other boys, throwing his vote with Mike.  Leo blew a sigh out his nose and shook his head lightly.  “We’re going to get in serious trouble.” “We’re not!” Mike protested.  “Swear to God, no alarm system.  We could walk right in and nobody would know.” Leo poked April in the side where she lay serpentine on the roof.  “Come on.  I can see I’m not going to win this one.” April mock-swooned and covered her eyes with the back of her hand.  “I’m too heavy to walk.  Carry me!” Raph said, “Bye,” and took off across the rooftops.  Leo shrugged and followed.  Mike had the bad grace to wave at her before giving chase. “Hey!”  She jumped to her feet, stomping one foot.  “Some superheroes they are!  They just left me here!” “Yep.”  Donnie patted her shoulder and proceeded to leave April behind as well.   Cheeky bastards, all of them, she thought and raced to catch up.

[ahnmakes]

devlog # 6 // hex tilemaps and pathfinding, part 5 (refining pathfinding features)

so, if you can’t tell, i’m absolutely in love with development right now, been typing away for days and days. :’)

mainly, since the last devlog, i’ve spent my time doing two things:

- organising and backing up my development process

- refining the pathfinding system’s features

starting with that first point, once my project files and code started getting to be more than a few lines, i quickly realised that i would need to take some time to start keeping everything even more in order.

i came across trello, a tool where you can make and sort tasks to keep track of what’s going on in your project.  currently, this is all entered manually, but i did notice they have a thousand features and other apps and things to take your task-keeping further.  right now, i am satisfied and very much served by these simple lists.  instead of countless, nondescript notes and word documents on my computer - “rpg notes”, “rpg devlog”, “devlog notes”, “game design”, “game design b”, “design notes”, etc - i keep all of my to-dos in one place.

i also started using github (for unity) to keep changelogs and backups of all of my project files.  this is something i had been especially thinking of as the files grew larger and larger, given that if i lost my progress, even though i could definitely put things back together (and perhaps more neatly the second time?), it would definitely throw off my motivation.

it only took a few minutes to set up a github repository(?) and install the associated plugin for unity, though i do not feel at all that i understand how this all really works - for now, the point is that i’ve got a consistent, easy way of tracking changes in my files and making sure i don’t lose them.

okay, now for what we’re really here for: the game, and its pathfinding system(s).  what i’m not going to do in this devlog is explain every detail of how i’ve put things together; what i will do is explain (a) what i put together, (b) the patterns and resources i worked from, and (c) some of the challenges that came up throughout.  there’s going to be lots of pictures today!

last time, we got to pathfinding in the sense that the game was able to identify the quickest route from our source position to a target tile position, then draw debug lines along that route.  in the few days since then, i’ve complicated the system quite a lot.

firstly, i made changes so that the tiles actually have movement costs.  i did this by creating a method that would take in the coordinates of a tile, then return its cost.

next, we needed to actually put this cost into the algorithm, so instead of the dist, i put in the CostToEnterTile - this piece of pathfinding might look familiar!  (i actually ended up putting the distance back into the equation as well, not shown in this image.)

after manually defining the movement cost values for each tileType in the inspector, the game looked like this:

notice how the pathfinding is avoiding grey tiles, and somewhat the blue ones?  this is not the “shortest” path, but it is the one that costs the player the least movement (which is what we want)!

next, i put in a method i imagined would be helpful - something called upon Start that would take a unit’s position, figure out if there was a hex below (via raycast), and then take on that hex’s position and array coordinates.  for a reason i cannot explain, this works only on this exact player object - not even on copies - and it works about 85% of the time.  :’)  i don’t understand why at all, and i’ve pored over this code (and updated it) for hours.  if you see why this code isn’t working how i intend, please let me know!

this is what it looks like when it does work (player was originally just vaguely, randomly over a tile and is now centered on that tile, internally storing a reference to its coordinates):

and whoa!  the tiles are at different heights?

well, yes, because i created something for each tileType called the “height offset range”.  this data is used when first instantiating all the hexes.  brings a ton more depth into the level.  lesgoooo unity 3d!

with this, the tiles start to look more like environmental terrain.  it becomes more apparent that the pathfinding is very much avoiding certain tiles.

this is just one of many changes i want to implement that will allow the game to generate interesting levels, procedurally, with almost no effort.

check out this “randomly” generated level, which has a more island-y feel, with the increased water tiles.

this was created by altering only 3 or so values, representing the proportions of a given tileType’s likelihood to be the one chosen when a hex is instantiated. (i want to soon move all of these variables into something editable from the inspector, so everything can be easily adjusted from inside unity, not from digging in the code.)

if i alter these few values again (notice below that i only change the 10, 9, and 6), we start generating levels that have quite a different feeling to them, something more rocky.

i even created another tileType (called “null”) which cannot be targeted or walked on.  this creates an effect that looks like there are spaces cut out of the map.

it may seem like “well, of course, the pathfinding won’t go along these tiles if they don’t exist”, but they actually do exist; the pathfinding is recognising them and choosing against them.  here is the same image as above, but with the null hexes changed to a visible/glassy material.

then, it felt like time to jump more into the code again and figure out how to not just calculate paths, but to actually use them to move the character.  again, with insights from quill’s tutorial, i set up some code that would move the unit along the found path, guiding them to a specific “destination”, waiting for them to get close, then moving to the next piece as the next destination.  cool shit that i definitely didn’t figure out alone.

after putting in some debugs (thanks to my virgo), we get a very satisfying list of steps the pathfinding went through to move the player, and our first visual..

! ! !

there remains only one thing to be done, from the two goals i defined for the pathfinding system.  one was to be able to find a path and move a character there (which we just did), and the other was .. to highlight possible move spaces?  how the fu--

welp, long story short, i panicked a bit because the few guides/tutorials i was finding were v e r y math and big, conceptual engineering (at least that’s how they felt).  and when i found what felt like a more accessible tutorial that showed someone using pathfinding for this purpose (highlighting possible movement tiles), their implementation didn’t seem immediately like something i could integrate alongside what i had.  i watched a bit, got frustrated and overwhelmed, then decided to relax, ease my mind .. which led me to this video lol?  an mit talk about graph theory and breadth first search.

somehow, i found it comforting to just explore the concept without thinking of how to apply it immediately.  i was just seeking to understand.  and understand i did.  right before i went to bed, i decided to write out - from this understanding - what kind of lists, variables, states, methods i would need to get this working.  i set it aside, and went to sleep.  and when i woke up the next day, this morning, this is what i did.

i translated what i had understood directly into new lists, variables, and the like - things i understood.  and for the first time on this scale, i was doing this entirely freehand, without any tutorial.  and i wrote for the code to do this when the the player was clicked on:

not so impressive?  what about this?

that looks like what i asked for!

the only difference between the two is that, in the second implementation of this algorithm, rather than cycling through all of the hexes, i ask the search to stop at a certain point -- something i’m currently calling the movement buffer.

from the game’s movement rules, a player can not only attempt to move within a character’s movement range, but can also exert the player to try to push to a further tile; this has the consequence of the character hurting or overly fatiguing themself, if they do not make a high enough roll to move that amount.  that’s what this image shows: the light blue represents the player’s movement, and the darker blue represents those exert/can-try-but-it’s-risky tiles.

i also took care of some other helpful, necessary features (can only select within the highlighted tiles, deselecting the unit will return tiles to their original colors, etc), also free-hand, just by applying the little pieces i know into a greater whole.

i have never felt more confident in my own programming ability; i define goals for my work, i research, i think through them, and then am able to create and refine the code that follows.  with that massive update, i will temporarily be pausing on any pathfinding for a while (as both of the goals we defined have been completed!), and looking to other areas to explore.

thank you for joining me on this journey so far. <3 in the next days, i’ll mostly be looking into visuals - shader maths, animation, modeling - trying to get things looking pretty.  most likely will be implementing a character stats UI, as well.  see you in the next devlog (or find and chat with me on twitter.com/michaelinwords​)!

with love and an ever-growing to-do list,

ahn

[diamondsareapearlsbestfriend]

Sans/Toriel 30 Day OTP Challenge: Day Six

On AO3 | Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four | Day Five

day six: new to the family

prompt: “Each member of your OTP meeting the other’s family for the first time. Does each family approve of the one dating the other? What sorts of shenanigans do they get into?”

"So...finally meeting the family, huh? Seems like things are getting pretty serious between you guys, am I right?"

"...Kid." Sans couldn't help but be amused, if a little puzzled, by Frisk's 'so what exactly are your intentions with my mother' routine as they smirked across the sofa at him. "We've known each other for how long now? Unless I'm missing something here, I feel like maybe that ship's sailed."

"I'm not talking about me." They were definitely up to something, a worryingly familiar determined glint in their eye as they turned to Toriel, tugging on her sleeve as she sat with her hands folded in her lap. "There's someone else we thought should join us for a nice family dinner tonight. Right, Mom?"

"Ah...in a sense, I suppose, yes." Toriel seemed much more reluctant, only offering Sans an apologetic smile when he looked to her for an explanation. "Dear, are you quite sure this is a good idea? He does tend to be rather...how should I put this..."

"Mom, don't worry," Frisk assured her, patting her hand. "I feel like we've been making real progress on the whole, um...attitude problem. Anyway, he's got to find out about you guys sometime, right?"

"I suppose, but..."

"We'll be right down!"

Frisk scurried eagerly off upstairs before she could object any further, and Toriel sighed before turning back to Sans, placing a hand gently on his patella. "Sans, I...do apologise in advance for this evening. I did hope we might be able to enjoy a nice, peaceful dinner, but you know how Frisk can be..."

Well, that wasn't ominous at all, but he smiled back anyway to reassure her, linking their fingers together. "Tori, don't sweat it. How bad can it really –" 

"Hey, watch the stem!" A disturbingly familiar squeaky voice pierced the air, interrupting him as they both turned towards the stairs. "Why are we doing this? You know I don't actually need to eat – there's this thing called photosynthesis? That's pretty basic science, Frisk – golly, don't they teach you anything in school? Your mom must be so..."

The contents of the offending flower pot wisely fell silent as he met Toriel's steely gaze, a stark contrast with Frisk's determinedly cheerful smile as they reached the bottom of the stairs and placed the pot carefully on the coffee table.

"Sans, Flowey – you guys, um, remember each other, don't you?"

"How could I forget?" Sans gritted his teeth, hoping his resting smile masked his instinctive unease as he met the flower's belligerently unimpressed stare – he could still feel the vines tightening around him, scratchy and suffocating, remember looking over at Papyrus, at everyone helplessly ensnared around him and only thinking, as the energy drained out of his soul, that he'd seriously screwed up this time..."Hey, buddy. Steal any good souls lately?"

Flowey ignored him entirely, turning his head indignantly back towards Frisk. "Is this some 'cruel and unusual punishment' kinda thing? 'Cause if so, I'm actually..." His eyes widened to comical proportions as the proverbial penny dropped, darting from Frisk to Sans to Toriel and back again. "Wait, is this a – no. No way. You're dating him?!" He dissolved into hysterical, high-pitched giggles, doubling over at the stem. "That's too rich! M – Toriel, I know you're getting a little over the hill, but gosh – even you must be able to find someone better than some...bag of bones?"

Frisk winced; Sans just smirked, because honestly it was kind of cute if Flowey thought that was going to get to him, like he didn't already know he was punching way above his weight with Toriel.

"Heh – little harsh, but you're not entirely –"

"Actually, I think you'll find you are very much mistaken," Toriel cut him off, her voice sharp and cool as a knife, but Sans could tell from the pink spots rising on her pristine white cheeks that she was pissed, unforgiving eyes trained on Flowey like a laser, "for there is, in fact, no one – nobody I would sooner be with, tonight or any other." 

Flowey gulped, wilting back against his pot despite himself, and it was probably one of the most satisfying moments of any timeline, especially when Sans caught Toriel's eye and her mouth twitched at their old corny joke. "Anyway," she continued pleasantly, the fire fizzling out almost as soon as it had appeared as she smoothed down her dress, "I had better get started on dinner. You three..." She narrowed her eyes, a watchful, teacher's gaze over Sans, Frisk and Flowey in turn. "Do try and play nicely, won't you?"

"He's not...always like this," Frisk spoke up after their mother had returned to the kitchen, shuffling their feet guiltily while shooting Flowey a reproachful look. "Sometimes he's nice. Well, kinda. To me, anyway."

"I tolerate you," Flowey corrected them, rolling his beady little eyes. "There's a difference."

Sans glanced longingly back at the closed door, tempted to make an excuse about helping Toriel with dinner, but Frisk was looking increasingly uncomfortable, fidgeting in the silence that followed, and he couldn't help feeling for the kid – they really wanted him and Flowey to be friends, and even if Sans had a pretty good idea of how that was going to work out, he figured he owed it to them to at least try and be nice to the little weed.

"Well, hey, that's progress, right?" he offered. "Good job, buddy. Sounds like you're really...turning over a new leaf."

At least that got a smile out of Frisk, who stifled a giggle behind their hand as Flowey let out a loud groan, drooping dramatically over the edge of his pot.

"Oh, sure, you're real funny bones. Never heard that one before. You know, if you insist on hanging around, the least you could've done is brought your brother along. Now he's much more fun."

Sans frowned, instantly not liking where this was going. "You know my brother?"

Flowey nodded, suddenly lighting up with a sunny smile Sans didn't trust one bit. "Oh boy, we go way back! We had some entertaining little chats back in the day – golly, that one was gullible. He believed anything any old flower told him. Hey, Sans, here's a fun puzzle – how many times do you think I could've killed him? Because, let me tell you, he sure couldn't have made it any easier for me. Seriously – what kind of Royal Guard member leaves himself open and vulnerable to a strange flower like that? When you think about it, I was doing you all a favour when I –"

"But all that was in the past!" Frisk interrupted, desperately lunging forward and clamping both hands across Flowey's mouth before he could finish. "And now you wouldn't ever...new leaf, remember? That whole murdery phase is over – that's what you told me, remember, Flowey? Right...?"

Sans saw their face twist in concern as it faded away, edges bleeding away to black before his eyes as he clenched his fist, struggling to block out the images – he'd tried his hardest to forget those timelines, but sometimes he still got flashes; dust scattering in the wind, bright red scarf garish as blood in the snow as it slipped through his fingers, grabbing for whatever was left; a retreating shadow, sometimes, but he never saw a face. He didn't want to give Flowey the satisfaction, but he could already feel it burning in his soul, white hot rage like nothing he'd felt in a long time, blazing through his bones and creeping up through his socket until Frisk and his surroundings all faded and there was only Flowey, illuminated in a cold blue glow as he took a step forward off the couch.

"Listen. You better stay away from Papyrus, or..."

"Oooh, or what? Let me guess – you're going to kill me?" Flowey's smile grew increasingly menacing, mouth stretching into a grotesque grimace as he wriggled free of Frisk's grip and leaned forward, stem stretching out until he was right up in Sans' space, eyes glittering with malice. "And what will your precious Toriel think of that, when she finds out you're just like all the others?" Suddenly, his face shifted, flickering like a TV set into an unsettlingly accurate imitation of Toriel's, her white fur and big, sorrowful eyes gazing out. "Oh, Sans, how could you? To think, I truly thought I could trust you – that I could love you – but now I see how foolish I was –"

"You guys, cut it out!" Suddenly, Frisk's voice cut through the darkness as they pushed their way between them, forcing them apart so that Sans stumbled and collapsed back onto the sofa, his vision fading back to normal in time to see Flowey shrinking back into his pot. "Just...stop with all the creepy face stuff, okay? Both of you," they added sternly, turning back towards Sans; he lifted a hand to his cheekbone and saw the magic still pulsating there, rising to the surface instinctively even though he wasn't intending to do anything with it. He shook his skull to let it settle, but as his vision cleared all he could see was the disappointment in Frisk's eyes. "You know, I really thought maybe we were..." They shook their head, silence hanging heavy in the atmosphere between the three of them as they turned away, back towards the door. "Forget it. I'm going to go help Mom with dinner."

"Kid, wait –"

But they were gone before Sans had a chance to defend himself, and he let out a sigh, glancing out of the corner of his socket at Flowey.

"That wasn't very nice, y'know."

"Your face isn't very nice," Flowey replied sulkily; Sans let out a quiet snort of laughter, tempted to come back with something even more childish, but then he remembered the look on Frisk's face, and yeah, that didn't feel too great. It looked like it was up to him to be the responsible one this time, which, welp – this was gonna be interesting.

"I don't care what you think about me," he continued, seriously, "but Frisk really wants us to be friends – yeah, I know, but would it kill you to at least try to pretend to play nice for a while? You know, it might not be so bad."

"Frisk wants everyone to be friends." Flowey laughed bitterly, the words dripping with derision. "That's their thing, right? That's why they had to drag me all the way up here, instead of killing me when they had the chance. I mean, gosh – I came so close to destroying everything in the Underground, and now they want to let me loose on the surface? They'd really risk your happy ending for some...idiotic hero complex, 'cause they just had to prove they could save everyone?" His squeaky voice rose with frustration as he cocked his head to one side, widening his eyes in fake concern. "Well, gee – when you put it like that, sounds pretty messed up. Don't you think, buddy?"

"Sure. I get that." Sans glanced back at the closed door to the kitchen before lowering his voice, leaning forward to rest his humerus on his patellas. "But what I'm wondering is, if you hate it here so much...why didn't you reset?"

In an instant, Flowey's theatrical shock shifted into the real deal, his stem stiffening in indignation. "You – how'd you know about –"

"Did some research," Sans replied with a shrug, as Flowey squinted suspiciously at him before breaking out into a smirk.

"Golly, isn't today just full of surprises! Alright, I admit it – that's a new one. I guess maybe I didn't explore every single possibility, after all." Flowey leaned forward again, vines creeping out of the bottom of his pot to anchor him in place as he sprouted two leaves and rested his head on them, mimicking Sans' pose. "Well...who says I'm not thinking about it, hmm?" His eyes grew bigger and blacker, voice becoming more distorted like he was speaking through static. "Maybe I'm just biding my time...waiting 'til you all think you're finally safe, free from the nightmares of the past. I could do it, you know. Anytime I wanted, I can turn it all back. Any...moment..."

Flowey kept inching forward, grinning into Sans' unblinking sockets like they were locked in a staring contest – until finally he couldn't hold it in any more and started to laugh, soft snickers turning to full-blown guffaws as Flowey jerked back in surprise.

"Whoa, dude, that's intense," he eventually managed to get out. "A+ for effort, gotta give you that, but – pfffft – you thought we were safe up here? Buddy, lemme tell you, I don't even remember being safe from all of this. You. Frisk. The others...heh, that's a good one.” Sans' laughter slowly petered out as he counted them off on his fingers. “There's a lot we didn't figure out, but we knew we were never safe – so hate to break it to ya, but you're really nothing new.”

"What...?" Flowey's nightmare face slowly faded away into something almost inadvertently adorable as he shook his petals, tilting his head in confusion. "And you're saying that doesn't...scare you? Hanging out with the kid who has the power to take everything from you – from Papyrus, from Toriel? Everything you've all worked so hard for and suffered so much, and knowing you could still end up right back where you started? Not even a little bit?"

"Nah," Sans shrugged, leaning back and kicking his feet up on the sofa. "Not any more. You wanna know why?"

"Why should I care about your idiotic –"

"I trust Frisk," he continued anyway. "They wouldn't do it, not now. I know it's not their first time – maybe they didn't always get it perfect, heh, who does? But they're a good kid, and I...believe in them." Sans felt a warmth growing deep in his chest – in his soul – and he never realised just how good it felt to be able to say that – to feel it. "Sure, they could reset any time – hell if there's anything I can do about it. All I know is, I spent a long time not trusting, not believing in anyone, and sometimes...sometimes you just gotta appreciate what you have, you know? If I didn't let myself trust Frisk, that they'd come through and do the right thing in the end – even for those who, some would say, really didn't deserve it – we wouldn't have any of this. And I wouldn't have Tori."

"Golly, isn't that just swell for you," Flowey retorted sarcastically, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Frisk sparing me didn't change anything. It doesn't matter what they want – we'll never be friends, not like they are with all of you. Not like it was with..." For a second, he almost looked sad, expression softening as he gazed somewhere into the distance, to timelines past, although it was gone in a flash when he caught Sans' sockets and glared defensively. "It's not like I haven't thought about resetting. I could still do it. I just...I'm just tired of it all." Flowey let out a bitter, world-weary chuckle, and yeah, Sans definitely recognised that feeling. "I'd seen everything down there. Nothing was fun any more, not when I already knew what everyone was going to do, right down to the pitch of their screams. I didn't have anything to stick around for – I just wanted Frisk to finish me off. But they were just too...too nice."

Sans had to laugh at the way Flowey screwed up his face in disgust at the word, nodding in solidarity. "Yup, sounds about right. Kid's pretty damn persistent."

"Gosh, it's sickening, really. I had to go along because they just wouldn't quit." Flowey rolled his eyes, but not with quite so much vitriol as before. "I still don't get it, but I guess this place is..." He lifted his head, looking around at Toriel's cute, cosy house. "At least it's new. I'll probably get bored of the surface soon, too, but for now – it's not the worst I've ever had it, I guess." He smirked again, but it looked more like a mischievous kid than a being of ultimate evil. "Although who knew there's a timeline where Toriel gets desperate enough to date you? Golly, even I almost feel sorry for her, and I literally have no soul!"

Sans just chuckled; he hated to admit it, but Flowey was trying so hard to be intimidating, he was almost starting to find it endearing. “Thanks, bud. I'm sure she'd be real touched to hear that.”

“Heh – you're, um...” Flowey's smile wavered, eyes darting around the room nervously like he suspected Toriel might have been hiding behind the couch all along , “not actually going to tell her I said that, are you?”

“Soup's on!” Frisk burst through the door before Sans even had a chance to consider all the ways he might be able to leverage this newly exposed weak spot. “Hey, you didn't kill each other,” they added brightly. “Good job! If you're lucky, Mom might even give you a sticker.”

Flowey groaned as Sans grinned, reaching out to tap the edge of his flowerpot as he slid off the sofa. “Now you're talking. You need a lift there, buddy?”

Flowey grimaced, but apparently even he wasn't immune to Frisk's hopeful smile at this indication that maybe they'd bonded, or something.

“You know I don't have to stay in the pot,” he grumbled, as Sans picked him up and followed Frisk through to the kitchen. “It's just easier, is all. You better not drop me.”

Tempting as it was, Sans thought, it had nothing on the way Toriel's face lit up as he walked in carrying Flowey, her smile simultaneously astonished, relieved and proud.

 “Oh my goodness – flowers, for me?” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together in mock surprise. "Why, Sans, you shouldn't have!"

“Actually, Tori, I might just have to hang onto this one,” he replied, setting Flowey down on top of the pile of books Toriel had thoughtfully placed on his chair. “What can I say – this guy, he really grows on you.”

“Ugggghhhh.” Flowey buried his head in his petals as Toriel snorted with delight and Frisk giggled guiltily. “Are they always like this? How have you not – uhhh...” He faltered as his pot mysteriously wobbled, just as Sans' foot collided with his chair leg under the table. “I mean – how do you stand it?”

“Pretty much,” Frisk sighed sympathetically, reaching out to ruffle his petals. “You just kinda get used to it.”

“Well, don't get used to this, 'cause I'm not hanging around waiting for you losers,” Flowey muttered, flinching away from their hands, but his face immediately brightened when Frisk slid a perfectly sized, snail-patterned watering can across the table. Sans grinned, unable to resist winking as he caught his eye; Flowey stuck his tongue out in retaliation, but somehow he didn't seem quite as threatening.

Frisk beamed and shot Sans a double thumbs-up while Flowey was happily drenching himself; Toriel smiled indulgently, and, psychotic flower sort-of family and all, Sans was starting to feel like this was definitely something he could get used to.

"Your Majesty! Dinner...is served!"

"Papyrus, my dear, you know you do not have to call me that," Toriel answered as he knelt extravagantly at her feet, smiling as she took in the impressive spread laid out before her; granted, it was only spaghetti, but everything was beautifully arranged and garnished, the three places set impeccably and cutlery polished to perfection. “This is far from the first time I have had the pleasure of your company, is it not?”

“I know,” Papyrus rose to his feet, sockets shining as he met her eyes with a bright, hopeful smile, “but it's been my dream to cook for the queen ever since...Well, ever since I found out we had a queen! Plus...” He cupped a gloved hand to Toriel's ear in a stage whisper, “my brother, finally bringing home a date?! Now that hardly happens every day!"

“Goodness, is that so?” Toriel feigned shock, pressing a hand to her chest and biting back a giggle as she caught Sans' socket as he sat at the table, nonchalantly munching on a breadstick. “Why, I would have imagined the eligible young monsters of Snowdin would be lining up outside your door.”

Papyrus let out a cackling nyeh heh heh, clutching his ribs as though it were the funniest thing he'd ever heard. “For the Great Papyrus, naturally – but Sans?! I didn't think he could even find a pair in his sock collection.”

"Alright, bro, take it easy," Sans finally interjected, grinning along despite the hint of blue colouring his cheekbones as Toriel laughed guiltily, both of them turning to look at him. "Ever think maybe you're not the only skeleton around here with high standards?"

Toriel smiled back, bushing a little herself as she turned back to Papyrus with a conspiratorial wink. “Ah, but you see, he is a fast learner. Impressive, what one can achieve with the help of a good teacher, is it not?”

Papyrus nodded thoughtfully as though appraising Sans' performance, before clapping his hands together, positively glowing with pride. “Congratulations, brother – your dating power is way higher than I thought! If you keep it up, who knows – one day, maybe you'll even be as strong as Frisk!”

“Hmm, I am not sure I would go that far just yet; there is always room for improvement,” Toriel quipped, before deciding to follow her child's example and show Sans some mercy by changing the subject, as much as she enjoyed teasing him just a little. “But I digress – surely the greatest significance of this occasion is that I finally have the honour of sampling the Great Papyrus' world-famous spaghetti!”

Papyrus' chest puffed up with pride as he gestured excitedly for her to sit down. “Of course – sit, eat, enjoy! Cooked to perfection just for you, Your – Toriel, if I say so myself. Bone appetit!"

Toriel grinned as she took her place opposite Sans. "Do my ears deceive me, or was that a pun?"

“A pun?! Obviously not!” Papyrus wrinkled his nasal cavity as though it were the worst thing imaginable. “It was a...sophisticated play on words.” “Otherwise known as a pun.”

"Sans, would you just – just stop flapping your mandible for a moment and let the queen enjoy her dinner in peace."

Shaking her head fondly at their squabbling, Toriel lifted a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth. Having been extensively warned that Papyrus' cooking was something of an acquired taste, to put it mildly, she was pleasantly surprised – it was perhaps a little undercooked, but the sauce was thick and rich with a good, strong flavour.

Swallowing, she was just about to pay her compliments to the chef when it hit – a searing heat burning through her throat like nothing she had experienced before. Toriel heard her fork clatter to the floor as her mouth fell open of its own accord and she found herself unable to do anything but pant helplessly, as though her tongue was trying its best to escape the cavern of burning hellfire.

"Tori? Tori, you okay? Stay with me here." Sans' concerned face blurred into an indecipherable white blob as her eyes stung with hot tears and he turned accusingly to his brother. “Pap – what the hell did you put in there?”

"Well – I – you said it was too cold! So I just added some more chili before –"

"How much chili?"

"A few...um...cups?"

Sans hissed something under his breath Toriel would not have approved of under normal circumstances, but for now she could only gasp, thumping the table in a wordless plea for help. “Well, get her some water or something!”

“Water! Yes!” Toriel could just about make out Papyrus frantically searching the fridge, various food items flying through the air. “Oh my god, Sans, what if we've killed the queen?!”

“We?”

“Just hold on, Your Majesty! I'm coming to your aid!”

Before Toriel or Sans could respond, Papyrus hurled himself across the table, plates of spaghetti and salad splattering on the floor as he thrust an unidentified bottle in her face; Toriel was so desperate she seized upon it like a long lost lover, gasping with relief as cool, creamy milk hit her throat, soothing the burning sensation. She kept gulping straight from the bottle, draining every last drop until no more remained. Blinking the last of the tears from her sore eyes, she took in the scene of disarray surrounding her: food splattered everywhere, Papyrus still splayed out across the table like a trophy rug and Sans wearing half of his dinner across his skull like an unconvincing wig.

“Toriel! I'm so sorry!” Papyrus was the first to break the silence, sockets drooping as though he might be about to cry next; Toriel was about to reassure him, but he grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks together inelegantly to prevent her from speaking. “Sssh, no – you must protect the royal tongue! I'm afraid the Great Papyrus has been foiled, once again, by his own lofty ambitions. I just wanted tonight to be...” He sighed, sliding surprisingly gracefully off the table and back onto his feet, only taking a few salad dressings with him, “special.”

“Pfff – Papyrus,” Toriel eventually managed to say, finally prising his hand from her jaw and setting it gently but firmly back on the table, “my dear, please do not worry yourself over this! I am quite all right – in my time, I have attended many more disastrous dinner parties, and none quite so entertaining.” She smiled at him, squeezing his hand in hers in what she hoped was a soothing manner. “In any case, I would even say you have succeeded – for this is certainly one of the most...memorable evenings I have spent, possibly ever. And I would not have it any other way.”

“She's right, bro.” Sans joined in, leaning over to pat his brother on the back. “Don't be upsetti over spicy spaghetti – that's how it goes, right?” Papyrus smiled and nodded, looking more like his usual self as Sans rolled up his tomato-splattered sleeves, uncharacteristically motivated. “Now throw me a bone here and let's get this place cleaned up for dessert.”

“Oh yes, of course – dessert!” Toriel clasped her hands together, trying to conceal her excitement as she caught the knowing glint in his sockets – she had almost forgotten it in all the commotion. Papyrus' brow bone shot up in suspicion, but he was soon smiling again as the three of them set to work, wiping spaghetti from the walls and plucking strands out of places they should not be – most frequently between bones – until the kitchen was once again in an acceptable state to reveal what Toriel hoped would still be the jewel in the crown of their evening.

“Now, this is just a little something I cooked up,” she announced, placing the covered pie down on the table, “in honour of the Great Papyrus' many, many wonderful achievements and services to our kingdom! Though, I confess – such a fitting tribute would not have been possible without the help of your brother here.”

“Pretty sure it would have,” Sans shrugged off the compliment, but slipped his arm around her waist with an affectionate squeeze as he grinned up at her, both barely able to restrain their glee. “Tori just likes to pretend I can be helpful sometimes.”

Despite his modesty, Toriel knew without a doubt as she lifted the cover that her own hands could never have so skilfully crafted the extra special decoration that adorned the top of her usual recipe – or, for that matter, have elicited quite such a perfect reaction, as Papyrus' sockets bulged almost right out of his skull, hands pressed to his cheekbones as a wonderful, seemingly contradictory yet uniquely beautiful symphony of utter rage and unbridled joy played out across his face.

“Oh my god, Sans! Toriel! It's...You...I...”

“What's the matter, bro,” Sans asked innocently as he took his seat, “don't you like our Papierus?”

"Like it?! I...I love it! It's awful! And yet perfect!" Papyrus clutched at his skull in anguish, but it was a broad smile, as warm and dazzling as the sun, that broke out across his face – an even more satisfying sight to behold than his pastry likeness on top of the pie, as he cut carefully around his own image. “Quite an ingenious ruse, Your Majesty,” he conceded, around a mouthful of butterscotch and cinnamon, “even the Great Papyrus must admit – sometimes puns can be palatable, when presented in pie form!”

“Really?” Sans' voice was casual, but Toriel already recognised the sparkle in his sockets at being handed such a golden opportunity. “Well, that's all I kneaded to dough.”

Toriel burst out laughing, unconcerned about the crumbs spraying her dress – it was already liberally stained with spaghetti, anyway, and there were far more important things, like the pride in Sans' smile as he dropped the punchline before joining in with her laughter, or for that matter Papyrus' strangled groan as he shook his skull in despair at the two of them before speaking up again.

“Actually, Toriel – there's one more thing I forgot to give you.”

“Oh?” Toriel inclined her head in curiosity as she set her fork down, praying that it would not be more food – she didn't know if her poor stomach could survive another round. “How sweet – but there is no need, you really do not have to give me anythi–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Papyrus had already produced a sturdy contraption of wood and metal seemingly out of nowhere, presenting it to her with a flourish as she blinked in surprise. “Oh! It's a...”

“A shovel!” he beamed, enthusiastically if a touch unnecessarily. “I read it on the internet – it's a surface tradition!” He cleared his throat, as if reciting from memory. “When someone starts dating your close friend or family member, you're supposed to give them a 'shovel talk'. Except I'm...not really sure what I'm supposed to talk about,” he admitted with a shrug. “But anyway – now you have a shovel, just in case dating Sans ever gets too stressful and you need to go away and plant some flowers!”

“Ah...of course.” Toriel smiled, suppressing her laughter as she glanced slyly over at Sans, whose expression was somewhere between amused, bemused and perhaps even a touch offended. “What a lovely tradition, and a thoughtful gift! I shall treasure it – thank you, my dear Papyrus. As the children say...I dig it.”

She was unable to help herself, a snort escaping as Sans chuckled and Papyrus, for once, did not voice his displeasure as his left socket twitched a few times. “It's...going to be like this all the time now, isn't it?”

“'Fraid so, bro,” Sans replied with a shrug, his grin becoming just a little more bashful as he caught Toriel's eye and added, “I, uh...really hope so, anyway. Sorry about that."

"No, you're not." But Papyrus was undeniably smiling, fondly exasperated, a sentiment Toriel was coming to recognise all too well. “But I forgive you, because the Great Papyrus is nothing if not selfless. And...” His voice became quieter, more serious, glancing between Sans and Toriel as the sharp lines of his skull appeared to soften for a moment, “it's a small price to pay, to have my brother back. Sans, I used to...worry about you, you know, back in the Underground. I knew something was wrong, but I just didn't know how to...”

“Pap,” Sans interrupted, his voice catching on the single syllable as he laid a hand on his brother's arm; Toriel bit her lip, an ache in her chest at the rare glimpse of raw emotion that  flashed across his face, just for a second, before he ducked his head, letting out a soft chuckle. “Don't you worry your great and powerful head about me, okay? I'm doing great.” Toriel knew he meant it, smile smaller but genuine when he glanced back up at her, then at Papyrus. “Never been better.”

“Thanks to her!” Papyrus reached out over his head and grabbed Toriel's hand, holding it in the air like a prize fighter. “Toriel! Despite your...equally questionable sense of humour, I'm honoured to pledge my loyalty to you both as former member of the Royal Guard and current mascot of monsterkind – but, mostly, as someone to share the considerable responsibility of looking out for my brother.”

"Oh!" Toriel found herself unexpectedly emotional at the sincerity of Papyrus' words, the warmth shining in his sockets – Sans was indeed lucky, as he had always said, to have such a cool guy looking out for him, and, as she squeezed his hand gratefully in return, Toriel knew that she was, too. “From the Great Papyrus himself, it is indeed an honour and a privilege. Rest assured, between the two of us, I trust we will not find the task so...punishing.”

“Okay, guys,” Sans interjected, evidently trying and failing to appear annoyed at this assessment of his character, “that's sweet and all, but seriously, what am I here? A skeledog?”

Toriel and Papyrus glanced at each other, a telepathic understanding passing between them, and without a word they reached out and grabbed him, each hooking an arm around his ribs to pull him up into a three-way hug. Sans let out a yelp of half surprise, half laughter as he was effortlessly lifted off the ground and firmly sandwiched between them, but Toriel knew he had no desire to escape even if they had any intention of letting him. Papyrus leaned in to bump his skull affectionately against his brother's as they clung together, and Toriel felt a surge of tenderness as she held onto both of them, at once familiar yet renewed – the need to nurture and protect, to preserve the love she felt so strongly in this moment, enveloping all three of them and warming her through to her soul.

“I know dinner didn't exactly go according to plan, guys, – but I gotta say, this has been really uplifting.”

“I could still drop you,” Papyrus threatened, but he was still smiling, as genuine as it was reluctant as Toriel giggled, leaning in to steal a quick nuzzle against Sans' cheekbone.

"I do not think he will.”

“I know,” Sans replied, running his fingers through the fur on the back of Toriel's neck while reaching out to pat Papyrus' skull with his other arm, somehow maintaining a perfect balance between the two – until he wobbled, almost bringing them all crashing down before they caught him, laughing, stronger together. "I think I got a pretty good thing going on here."

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Artist Asks Meme (Long Post Alert)

I took the questions from this post, and decided to just answer all of them without waiting for prompts, because... why not?

Also, apologies for the long post. I could have put all this under a cut, but I want it to show in its entirety on my blog page. I will tag from now on all posts like this under “long post”, if that is something you would like to blacklist from your dashboard.

1. When did you get into art? As soon as I could hold a pencil. Sure, I may have held it like Beast initially held his spoon in Disney’s The Beauty and the Beast feature film, lacking the finer motor skills due to me being barely out of diapers. That didn’t stop me from drawing thousand legged potatoes and trying to pass them as horses. However, I suppose art became to hold a deeper meaning to me during my last years of elementary school, and all the way through junior high. I had finally become deeply depressed due to bullying and being ostracized by my fellow children. My family was having a difficult time as a whole, and I decided to bottle everything in, thinking I’d only cause more worry otherwise. I would eventually come to harbor suicidal intentions. During that time drawing became an outlet for me to both express and process my emotions, so it naturally became an important necessity in my daily life. It may very well be that was something that ultimately gave me just about enough strength to keep moving forward. Unfortunately, l would later lose my passion to do art. I didn’t really see eye to eye with my high school art teacher, and that really ate at my love for doing art, seeing as it had always been something very closely linked to myself and my enjoyment rather than that of other people. I got tired going about my art as I was expected to. It would take years for that passion to rear its head again. So here I am now, learning everything all over again! 2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? I started out on Elfwood in my teens, then also signed up for deviantART. I eventually deleted both of these galleries, once I stopped making more art and checking the activity on these sites started to feel like a chore rather than something fun. Now I have a gallery on deviantART once again, which I update pretty much whenever I have the intention to put something up on Tumblr as well. But I definitely consider my dA account more of a means to keep in touch with a couple of cool people and their artistic endeavors. This Tumblr gallery I consider more my “real gallery”... for no particular reason really. 3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand. FEAST THINE EYES.

This is not the oldest one I have on hand, though. That one has already been posted separately on my blog. 4. What defines your artistic style? That is ridiculously hard to answer to be honest. I experiment so much it becomes difficult even for myself to pinpoint what exactly it is that defines my style. There are certainly some recurring elements, like how my humans tend to have elongated, exaggerated bodies (which is something you can already see in that older drawing above). I suppose that’s one thing that defines my style - a type of exaggeration of proportions and lines. I don’t really give a shit about the dos and don’ts regarding how to make art. Legs for example bend in ways they shouldn’t, and it’s a purely artistic choice from my part. I think it adds a layer of expression to my work, without which the piece would be a lot more boring to look at. I suppose the fuckton of experimentation I do is also something of a defining feature in my art, but it’s more of a personal element than something others can recognize my art by. 5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past? Welp, I think I pretty much brushed on this already above there on question four. Yes, I do, and yes, I have. 6. What levels of artistic education have you had? I have no formal education whatsoever. Though, I did take one course at my local adult education centre. It assembled only about once a month for half a year. It was an alright course, but the teacher’s tips felt very blatantly influenced by her own personal tastes in art. I felt like I was being pushed to express myself in ways that didn’t really feel like me at all, so in the end I never showed up for the last gathering. 7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site. This practice picture drawn with ink didn’t make the cut mostly because I used the exact same perspective and general composition as for my Cheap Art Supply Challenge piece. But also because I am not that fond of it.

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done? A lot of times I just like the newest piece I’ve made the most, but there are certain works that hold additional value to me even when time passes. It’s been four years since I made it, but I’m still fond of this painting. It was the first time in years that I took up watercolours again, so the piece holds certain personal value to me. For that reason, I could even go as far as calling it my favourite. 9. What is your least favourite piece that you have done? I’m not sure I can decide. Not because I’d have so many not-faves, mind you! I can look back to the pieces I’ve made and think the ideas weren’t as cool as I thought back then, or that the techniques are horrible in comparison to what I’m capable of now. But I still do not really dislike them, because they remind me of how far I’ve come, where my foundations are, and which elements I decided to stick with. They remind me of the steps I’ve taken, and so I can’t really dislike them. 10. What do you like most about your art? Hmm, I think my favourite element in my art is just how unpolished a lot of it is. Like I have no qualms about leaving details vague. For example, a lot of times I draw less details on hands if the body shape is my primary interest in a piece I’m working on. Detailed works are very cool to look at, but there is also nothing wrong with leaving things to the viewer’s imagination, or leaving certain parts simple in order to encourage the viewer’s gaze to move where you want it to. 11. What do you like least about your art? I can’t really say. Despite all my artistic shortcomings, I am rather fond of it overall... Maybe just my lack of readiness to draw more diverse body types? Which is more of an occasional “Should I be doing that?” type of thought, rather than something I perspire over every time I draw and see I have once again created something of the lean and mean variety. 12. Have you ever considered taking commissions? Yes, and I have done some commission work in the past. Currently I have no particular drive to take new ones, however, as I’m more interested in experimenting different things as I see fit. 13. Are you looking to pursue a career in art? Not really. There was a time when I entertained that thought, but realistically speaking, I don’t think I’d work too well under the constant pressure of having to be as productive as possible at all times. I would quickly lose what art means to me, and with that, the joy it gives me. It’d just become another thing I must do to make ends meet. That, I do not want. 14. What do you like drawing the most? Human faces and animals are the most relaxing thing for me to draw, and looking at my sketchbooks, drawing them seems to be bordering on obsession. Other things I enjoy drawing, though less often, are unnecessarily long legs, skeletal figures, and armour.

15. What do you like drawing the least? Backgrounds. I have yet to figure out how to get them to look like they are actually part of the picture and not just their separate thing that is there. Environments overall are rather tricky for me, though I have made some brave attempts. Buildings are hard. Drawing lush vegetation is hard. Having very little patience a lot of times doesn’t encourage learning either. 16. Do you draw more fanart or original art? If fanart, what fandom do you draw the most of? Original art, which you might not guess looking at my blog here, since I started it just when I was about to go on a fanart loop for quite a few months. Wanting to draw fanart comes to me in certain intervals. Overall, however, I find it way more fun to draw whatever comes out of my head and hand, rather than following an already existing example. 17. What would you absolutely refuse to draw? Smut. It’s just not something I feel compelled to create. 18. What is your purpose for drawing? It makes me happier. I was going to go on a tangent about how it calms me and how meditative drawing is, how it gives me that feeling of having accomplished something, etc. - but what all that really boils down to is that simple statement. Drawing makes me happier. 19. What medium/program do you use the most in your art? Ink and watercolour are what I use the most by far. There’s something lovely about watching them spread and mix uncontrollably on a wet surface. Every now and then I get into the mood of trying other types of traditional media, though, like acrylic paint and oil pastels. Right now I’d really like to try my hand at encaustic painting... but getting the necessary equipment is an investment of over a hundred euros. That’s far too much for me in my current situation.

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.) I am sorry, but I will flat out refuse to answer this one. Ranking one’s art encourages comparison to people you admire. I am really hard pressed to see how this could be anything but toxic. 21. Do you believe there is such thing as “bad art?” Maybe. Art that never evolves anywhere, in any way, but remains absolutely stagnant? Be it on a personal level, or on a more encompassing level that challenges already existing traditions of art. On a personal level it doesn’t need to be very visible evolving either. In my mind, it’s enough if it’s something as small as “I have come to use this one colour I never before felt I could use with success.” If the question comes down to something as mundane as “Do you enjoy the art you see or do you not” being the defining element that discerns good art from the bad... Then my answer would be no, there is no such thing as bad art. I could never claim there is with good conscience, based only on my subjective likes and dislikes. 22. List at least one of your “artspirations.” Oh, I have so so many! And not all of them related to visual arts, even. But there is no point in making such a long list, so here are but a few of them: Gustave Doré and his many illustrations. I am particularly fond of the ones he made for Don Quixote and Orlando Furioso. Yoshitaka Amano. I find myself rather drawn to the elegance displayed in many of his paintings and drawings. Albrecht Dürer and his highly detailed woodcuts. Ayami Kojima and her masterful use of traditional means. She is self-taught too, which in and of itself is inspiring. Lian Quan Zhen and the beautifully lush colours in all his watercolour works. Paul Koudounaris and his absolutely gorgeous photographs of the lovingly decorated catacomb saints. (Picture below from his publication Heavenly Bodies, Thames Hudson Ltd, 2013.)

23. What do you think you could stand to improve on? Everything. I’m not really the type to stop and think I shouldn’t strive to improve more on a certain area just because I happen to like whatever I’m already doing. There are always elements I can refine, new methods of expression to test, and just plain something I could do better or at least differently enough to keep things interesting for myself. 24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.? Oh no, why end on such an embarrassing note! Cruel, cruel person, that came up with these questions. The short answer is yes. The long answer is, well, I would copy other people’s artwork, making only about just enough changes to replace the characters they drew with my own ones. Just thinking about it now makes me cringe! In case you were left wondering: None of those pictures were ever published anywhere, and have long since been burned with fire. And that’s an accurate description of what happened to them. All of them.

--- Turns out some versions of this meme also include: 25. Draw a picture! So here’s a quick pooch. Thanks for reading!