#but after a lot of sketching and erasing this finally started to take form!

[kira-light0]

Happy Trapper Tuesday everybody!!!

(Reference + closeups under the cut)

[sporadically-writing]

Hello! I saw that you were open for OW requests and was wondering if I could request relationship headcanons for Hanzo with an artist s/o? Maybe they work at the office of OW and they just started talking some day when he notices them drawing? Thank you in advance!

Aww, this is cute! I love it! I'll do my best my anon friend!

It started out as innocuous as anything else. Hanzo received a form with some strange indentations on one of the corners. He thought it was strange but didn't really think much of it at first, papers get crinkled in transport from person to person all the time.

But then he kept noticing them on a lot of the papers he saw around base. They weren't large, just small collections of lines in the corners and margins of certain papers. They weren't uniform across the board either, each one was different. He found himself casually investigating the forms he got from the Overwatch office for these little markings, just out of curiosity. 

Eventually, on one of the mission reports he had to sign, he found a small drawing of a cherry blossom. Then it made sense, those little indents he'd been finding had been what remained of little erased doodles! He smiled at the cherry blossom drawing. It was simple. Minimalist, but whoever in the office had put a lot of love into making the little thing. They had apparently forgotten to erase it this time.

He filled out the report like he was supposed to and went to the office to turn it in. He walked into the office to see you, headphones in, doodling on another form. You were, adorable. In your own world, enjoying your time between the next time someone needed something from you. 

Hanzo knew your reputation. Everyone on base did. You were good at your job. Taking a few minutes to unwind with some music and a drawing wasn’t going to stop you from getting the work done that you were supposed to.

What were you sketching? Looking closely at it, he could see it was a little stylized version of a dragon actually! It was peeking out over a ledge you had drawn (represented by a line), with it’s little paws squished against the line and sticking its tongue out. Cute and a little funny.

“Oh! Uhm... Agent Shimada, did you need something?” You said, slightly surprised that your little moment of quiet was interrupted.

Whether or not you found yourself embarrassed, Hanzo definitely was and stuttered out an apology. “I just... needed to turn this in...”

Luckily for him, you took it without a further question and after a moment he finally said, “You... you’re a very good artist. I’ve noticed the remains of some of your drawings. It is nice to know who made them.”

You gave your standard response to comments like those but then Hanzo said something else, “Why do you erase them?”

“It’s not necessarily that I’m shy about them, I love making them you know, I just... I can’t help myself sometimes and these forms are really the only paper we have in here. I just don’t think anyone wants to see them on their official documents.” You pause, “Well, except you apparently.”

Hanzo blushed but nodded in understanding. The two of you just sort of hung out and talked for a while after that, spending the time getting to know each other. Well, given your station on base, more him getting to know you but there was a fair trade of details shared amongst the two of you. You were only briefly interrupted by Cassidy who stopped by to return a pen he borrowed a long time ago. He looked between the two of you, grinned and walked out. Great. Thank you Cole. Whatever information he thought he had would likely be all over base by breakfast tomorrow. That’s alright, you couldn’t really bring yourself to be bothered at the moment. 

The two of you would continue your little ritual every so often when Hanzo had to turn papers in. He would stop by, handing off what he needed to, you’d show him your lasted drawing and you both would talk. Eventually you started making it a regular thing, having some tea and your drink of choice together while you just chatted.

One day, after a rather disappointing lull in your visits with Hanzo, you came back from lunch to find something sitting on your desk. It was a sketchbook, empty save for the first page which held a note and slightly different renditions of your previous cherry blossom and dragon doodles. 

The note read, “You always said you needed paper of your own for your drawings. I hope this will suffice.” 

You smiled and another idea formed. That afternoon you took the sketchbook and tore out one of the back pages once you were finished with it.

Hanzo returned to his room later that day to find a piece of artwork having been placed on his door. It was a drawing of his and your silhouettes against a painted night sky. Underneath it was another note, “You’re smart. Come find me.”

The piece was created in a way that held subtle clues in the foreground as to where the scene was taking place and after a little time, Hanzo joined you on the roof of the base. You had prepared a small cafeteria snack picnic to share as a thank you and if anyone asked you or Hanzo what your first date was, that night would be your answer.

Lemme know what you thought! Have a lovely day/night!

[brahkest-fr]

Have you thought about ever doing a step by step video/tutorial on how you make skins? Or record your process? I'm trying to start doing skins but there's a lot of stuff I don't understand that the site's tutorial doesn't really explain and speed paints aren't exactly great to look for answers, so I was wondering if you would ever do something of the sort, it would be cool

I’m kinda dumb and terribad at video recording but I can totes make a process with some screenies :0 Hopefully the following helps a bit. There is gonna be an assumption of basic knowledge on layers and whatnot just fyi! Perhaps someday I’ll actually record myself making a skin if I don’t get distracted and/or forget lol.

1) This is pretty much how I start my layers. I don’t change much from the default skin file provided by FR other than adding a mask to the skin folder so I don’t draw outside of the lines and then a gray overlay on top of the base just so it’s easier for me to see my sketch. I use bright colors like blue and pink to help me differentiate details. I turn off the clip lines/shadow as I don’t wanna see those atm.

The layer that says “Accent” is where I start my sketch.

If I’m making a skin for a particular dragon, I’ll often have them added in the file (note the hidden layer above the gray box). To do so, I save out a transparent version of the dragon and blow it up to 700px in waifu2x or something. Then I bump it up to 750px so it fits in the skin file. It’ll be a lil blurry but it’s good enough.

2) Next is line art - I have 2 layers for this skin: one for the jacket and another for the knuckle dusters and chains. Personally I like to close off all gaps in my line art, including drawing on the edges as you can see on the top of the collar by the wings or the gap formed by the hair on the midsection. This is just something I prefer doing as I find it makes my coloring less messy and annoying later on. But you can do it however it’s most comfortable.

At this stage, I’ll also either zoom out to 50% or resize to 50%, whichever works because it’s important to remember that the file size is 750 while the actual size you’ll have to save out will be 350 - details will shrink so make sure what you’re drawing will show up appropriately.

3) Now onto colors. Since I closed the gaps in the line art, I just fill bucket everything. For this skin, I drew the jacket’s colors on one layer because I’m trash and have 1 braincell but you can use as many layers as you need. In this case, the overlay layer was for extra saturation and the layer above that was for the black stripes. Be sure to clip additional color layers onto your base color so you keep things tidy and avoid coloring beyond the lines.

Again don’t forget to resize or zoom out to make sure your skin is looking as it should!

4) Finally I do some recoloring of the line art - in this case mostly the arm of the jacket. I lock the line art layer and go over it with colors darker than the surrounding colors - up to preference here. I don’t usually change the very edges just because I prefer a darker color there personally and my default is black. It’s also totally ok to have darker line art - again up to you.

Then I turn on the clip lines/shadow since you have to make sure those show up in the final piece. Clip lines is usually set to normal but I change it to multiply because I feel it turns out better for recoloring. When I recolor, I try to match the colors of the skin while also making sure it’s dark enough to be seen. Same goes for shadows.

*If you ever get a skin rejected, it’ll usually be how visible you make the original shadows and line art. There’s not really a hard rule on what counts as “passing” since it’s up to staff but I try to make it obviously visible without ruining my skin. So here you can still see the belly scales for example, but it’s not so pronounced that it takes away from the jacket. It’s a lil uggo imo but it is what it is.

*Something to note when you color: be careful how dark you make your base colors! Too dark and you won’t be able to see the clip lines/shadow very well in the future. Note how the collar of the jacket is light enough that the shadows and lines beneath are still visible.

This is how my clip lines/shadow layers look on normal mode so you can see what colors I made them. Play around with the values to make sure you achieve some balance between your skin looking good while still showing off the base lines and shadows of the dragon. I used pink and blue here since it matched well with the skin. By default, the lines and shadows are gray and if you don’t recolor those, your skin will end up looking muddy.

*Other than recoloring, do not touch the clip lines/shadows at all. Do not edit them or erase them otherwise that’s a quick ticket to rejection.

5) Finally, turn off everything but your accent folder and save that sucker out and resize to 350px. At this point you can test it on your actual dragon by either pasting the skin onto a pic of the dragon or by using FR Tools. Reminder that you should not use/mention FR Tools on the official site cuz staff doesn’t like it. However on FR Tools you can also test the coverage of your skin when you select “upload skin.” Less than 30% and it’s an accent. Above that and it’s a skin. There’s other ways to test coverage but FR’s gimp tutorial sucks and is outdated and I don’t have photoshop so lol.

*I often go through several iterations of a skin just in case I see weird flaws or missing details. Testing is very important once you finish as major changes to your skin after submission is not a fun process so be sure to get it all squared away the first time.

^ Your final product should look like this: transparent png (32bit) at 350px.

*Now this was the technical side of making skins using the tools at hand. If you have further questions I didn’t cover here, pls do feel free to ask! I’m no expert by any means but I can impart what I’ve learned after making a few.

[amomentsescape]

Request: Would possible to do a one where the reader is the new sketch artist that starts developing feelings for ed and leaves little doodles on his desk. Which leads to Ed catching her in the act of leaving another doodle and the last one was her asking him out. @sirlsplayland​

A/N: I hope you like it! Oddly enough, Ed doesn’t tell a riddle in this one.

Doodle Confessions (Ed Nygma x Reader)

You grew up your whole life with an interest in art. It started with the smallest doodles in school during a boring class. Eventually, it escalated to full on portraits of your favorite things. And now, you still love it with a burning passion.

After moving to Gotham, you decided on a career path that would allow you to help the greater good while also sticking with your love: a sketch artist.

Your first day was a little nerve wracking to say the least. The moment you stepped foot into the GCPD, you felt your heart practically humming at the pace it was beating.

It wasn’t just the new environment that worried you. There was a big part of you that was concerned you wouldn’t be what they wanted. What if your talent wasn’t as good as you hoped it was?

These worries instantly flew from your mind when your eyes landed on him. 

Edward Nygma.

You had, obviously, done your research before your first day. You got to learn a bit about the department and most of the people that worked there. It helped alleviate some of the anxiety since you got to know your situation a little bit before you went into it.

And here he was.

He was quite handsome in an unconventional sort of way, which you didn’t mind. He looked as intelligent as he was, and you couldn’t help but notice the little twitch of his lip as he focused on the microscope in front of him.

You felt your own lips begin to curve into a smile at the sight of him.

You always loved people when they weren’t trying to be something else. Ed was in his most natural state: focused on nothing but the work before him.

You decided to keep walking incase someone noticed you soon. It was your first day, and the last thing you wanted was to be the “creepy sketch artist” that couldn’t stop taking in the aura of Ed Nygma.

However, you could not get the image of him out of your mind. The small lines around his eyes, the way that one piece of dark hair wouldn’t stay put with the rest. It was all too perfect to not put on paper.

Since it was a rather slow day, you decided to start on the sketch right away. 

It took all of two hours to complete. For the amount of detail that went into it, you were happy with the way it turned out. 

You couldn’t help but admire the sketch. A smile formed on your lips as you took in each line and shadow that was created on the paper. Your hand was smudged with pencil lead and eraser shavings coated the desk, but the mess was worth it to you.

You were quickly taken out of your trance when you heard the sound of talking slowly becoming louder down the hall. 

You closed the sketch pad as fast as possible in hopes that the person heading your way wasn’t going to your office. 

The figure finally rounded the corner and you felt your stomach twist at the sight.

Edward Nygma was struggling to get a free hand out to open the door. His arms were practically filled with files, pens, papers, and a cup of hot coffee.

He continued to speak lowly under his breath. You could barely make out a few words at first, but then you realized that he was reciting a riddle of some sort. It only brought more warmth to your thudding heart.

You continued to watch as he struggled at the door, trying to fight the anxiety eating away at you.

Finally, you stood and made your way to the man, grabbing the door knob and lightly pushing it open.

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate the-”

He suddenly ate his words as he looked at you.

There was a slight gray smudge on your forehead and a piece of hair that wasn’t quite long enough to stay behind your ear. But he swore that the sight before him was something that he had never seen before.

“I- um. Are you... new here?” he practically spit out. He mentally cursed himself for seeming so awkward.

You made eye contact for a second but became too nervous under his gaze.

“Yeah, I am!” you responded, maybe a little too happily.

You two shared a few more brief introductions before you headed back to your own office.

You couldn’t believe that out of all places, his desk happened to be the one right across the hall.

You tried to scan over your papers in hopes of looking busy, but you couldn’t help but raise your eyes every once in a while, taking in his features from several feet away.

Eventually, he got up to go somewhere else, giving you a slight wave as he walked past.

You gave a small wave back as you suddenly noticed the time on the clock. 

Your shift was over. 

You began to pack your things away until your sketch pad caught your eye again.

Maybe I could leave him something? Just to make his day.

It took you a moment to think about what you wanted to draw him.

The idea to leave him a little doodle was kind of random to you, but he seemed like the type to appreciate these small actions.

You thought back to the steaming cup of coffee that was in his hand and the quiet riddle he seemed to be memorizing.

Why not combine the two?

You quickly sketched out a coffee mug, adding a little coffee riddle under the doodle as well.

You stepped out into the hall briefly, looking around to make sure he wasn’t anywhere close.

Once you felt it was safe to do so, you stepped into his office and set the piece of paper down, feeling quite accomplished.

This ritual of yours became a regular occurrence after that.

Every day, he would leave his office at the same time, offer you a wave and a smile, then be on his way.

Your doodles started out as rather innocent and playful. However, as time went on, you realized that the messages you placed with your sketches were becoming more honest. 

Some talked about how his smile was the brightest one you had seen, or how his small jokes made your heart flutter.

Each small confession came with a drawing that only grew in complexity and personal expression.

You tried blaming this honesty on the fact that you were becoming more comfortable with the sketches. However, deep down, you knew it was something more.

As your time at the GCPD became more consistent, so did your interactions with the smart man.

You two would have brief discussions every day. Some talk of weather, some talk of interests, but a lot of talk about each other.

You got to know the little things about Ed. The way he quirked his nose up when he laughed, how he dislikes loud chewers in restaurants, and how riddles were a passion of his.

After weeks of this on going game, you became a little disappointed.

You felt that you two had a nice little friendship going. However, he never once mentioned the sketches that you left on his desk every day.

You knew that he probably didn’t realize who was leaving them, but you figured that he would have at least mentioned it to you by now. Especially because you felt like you two had grown quite close.

Your patience finally broke, and you decided to just shoot your shot.

The anxiety was bubbling inside of you all day, but you did your best to hide it around him.

When the time finally came to end your shift, you found yourself panicking a bit.

No inspiration was coming to mind for that day’s doodle. You didn’t know what to draw, nonetheless say to him.

You flipped through your sketch pad in hopes of striking some inspiration. Your eyes began to become out of focus as the constant flutter of paper became rather hypnotic.

Your eyes suddenly widened at the final image in front of you.

The drawing of Ed that you had created on your first day at the department stared back at you.

It hit you that this would be your last doodle to him. You wanted him to see how you saw him. 

You carefully tore the sheet out of the sketch pad and tried to think of something to write.

You finally decided that a riddle wouldn’t convey what you wanted. You chose to just be upfront and honest with him:

Ed-

        I couldn’t help but admire you from afar, but I think now I should let you know the truth... I hope that maybe you’ll feel the same. I have fallen for you over these last few weeks, and I would like to get to know you on a personal level- more than just work friends.

               -(Y/N)

You sighed at the small confession on the paper. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

In your haste and worried mind, you didn’t think to look down the hall like you normally would have.

As you went to place the paper on the desk, you didn’t realize that a figure was standing in the doorway behind you. The sudden break in the silence pulled you back to reality rather quickly.

“It was you?”

You spun around and felt your face go hot at Ed’s confused expression.

You opened your mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out. You were utterly speechless at the predicament.

Ed continued to look at you, waiting for some type of response.

You finally broke out of your shock and let out a sigh, your gaze falling to the ground.

“Yeah, it was me.”

You cleared your throat as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“I just thought that they could make your day. But I don’t know, it seems really silly now.” You raised your hand to the back of your neck, scratching at it slightly.

“I didn’t know what to do though. It started out as a nice sentiment, but it quickly changed to something more. But I didn’t think it affected you much because you never mentioned them,” you finished.

You managed to finally bring your eyes back up to his, noticing that his face had softened quite a bit.

“Open the first drawer of the desk. The right one,” he suddenly responded.

You furrowed your brows a bit but did as he asked. You reached out and pulled the drawer open, only to be met with a pile of papers, all of them being the doodles you had left him.

You didn’t know what to say in that moment, you simply looked back up at him again, hope swelling in your heart.

“I kept all of them, (Y/N). You have no idea how much they meant to me.”

He offered a smile that you reciprocated in return. You nodded a bit and remembered the paper that you were still holding in your hand.

He seemed to follow your eyes and slowly raised his arm out to you.

“Do you mind?” he asked gently.

You simply shook your head and carefully handed him the drawing, feeling the nerves pick back up in your chest again.

You watched as he opened it, his eyes scanning over the words in no time.

His gaze remained on the page for a while longer though, his smile becoming wider.

“I didn’t think I was quite worthy of such artistic beauty.”

You shook your head again and let out a gentle breath.

“Edward Nygma, I hope that one day you’ll begin to see yourself the same way I do,” you practically whispered.

He looked back up quickly, his face growing a faint blush.

There was a moment of hesitiation. He seemed to be contemplating something in his head, the blush already painted on his cheeks becoming darker with each passing second.

He began to make his way towards you, your face twisting in slight confusion.

Once he was only a small distance in front of you, he placed a soft hand on your cheek. You instinctively leaned into it, noticing him give you a look that was practically asking for permission. 

Instead of answering, you simply closed the gap, your soft lips meeting his briefly.

As you pulled away, you felt a small chuckle vibrate in his throat.

“I was hoping the drawings were from you,” he sighed.

[onigiriico]

Osora Interview translation (pt.2)

(printed in AnimaniA 4/2018, p.58 - 61 / interview originally given in March 2018 at the Manga-Comic-Con in Leipzig, Germany)

( pt.1 )

The Internet offers Let’s Players, but also all kinds of artists an opportunity for very direct communication with their fans. However, this can also have its downsides when it comes to potentially negative feedback. How do you deal with this issue?

—Sometimes you just stumble across negative feedback that you didn’t want to see, and that can chip away at your motivation and creativity. I try to prevent that by not really looking at reactions in the first place, and when I do happen to see negative feedback, I try to forget about it again as soon as possible. Of course, when I start a new series, I’m curious about the readers’ reactions and go looking for feedback, but if eight out of ten comments are very positive and two are negative, I still tend to get stuck thinking about those two negative comments. There even was a time when that negative feedback made me feel too depressed to draw for a couple of days. But the more often this happens, the more you learn to deal with this criticism. I can stomach it pretty well by now, and I think it’s important to not let negative feedback get to you.

Did your experience regarding interactions with readers change much from Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai to The Ones WIthin?

—Digital publications receive a lot more feedback than series that are only released in print - be it via email or via Twitter. Twitter is the main source of comments. With Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai, there was much less of a response, and the feedback that we did get was usually in the form of letters. Since readers had to buy the magazine first and then go out of their way to send a letter, that was a lot more complicated. (T/N: i.e. it takes more time to write/send a whole letter than to just send a tweet)

How do you handle responding to messages from your readers? For example, do you set specific times for yourself to reply?

—Since I get the most reader interaction on Twitter, I try to answer questions and comments there when I find the time for it. I always do that myself because I want to respond to my fans in my own words. That doesn’t feel like extra work to me, but rather like a pleasant change of pace. Aside from my personal account, there’s also the official account for The Ones Within, which is mostly for promotional use. My editor retweets my tweets there and forwards any questions that get asked there to me.

Could you describe your usual daily routine when working on The Ones Within?

—I’m a night owl, so I usually get up rather late at around 10 am. After that, I basically work in two rounds. The first lasts the entire day and ends in the evening, around dinner time. Then I take a short break, and the second round starts at around 9 pm and ends at roughly 2 am. If I’m close to a deadline, I sometimes just continue drawing until I pass out. (lol) I never take much time to eat at that point, either.

What advantages are there to drawing digitally in comparison to drawing traditionally?

—Oh, there’s a lot - especially how easy it is to make corrections and adjustments. Your work space is neater and other people can’t stare as easily at what you’re drawing. There’s no need to erase sketches or apply screentones by hand (T/N: see here how screentones are applied traditionally, it’s definitely faster digitally lol), so there’s not as many work steps either and you can finish your work even on your own [without assistants]. And since it’s all data anyway, it’s easy to save as well.

Do you have any advice for artists who are just starting to work digitally?

—Practice makes perfect! I used to have a private page online where I more or less kept a drawing diary, all about original characters. I still kind of do the same thing on Twitter nowadays. It’s important to keep at it and actually draw on a daily basis, that way you’ll get used to it. There’s also live streams from artists on Pixiv and Twitter - it’s helpful to watch those and adapt parts of their progress for your own work.

You’ve shown us a picture of one of your notebooks that you use to jot down your ideas - where do you usually come up with these? (*picture under the cut at the bottom of the post)

—There’s two main places where I tend to draw spontaneously. For one, on the train - usually after meetings with my editor. I can best sort out my thoughts right after those meetings and save some first ideas. Secondly, in bed, right before going to sleep. Ideas flow really easily when you’re sleepy and letting your thoughts wander. Also, I’d feel like I’m wasting my time if I did nothing and just waited to fall asleep, so instead I imagine as many scenarios as possible and jot down the best ones. When I come up with something I especially like, I might also get up again and draw it digitally right away. (lol) I don’t take my notebooks with me everywhere I go, though.

Both Boku to Senpai no Tekken Kousai and The Ones Within combine dark, mysterious elements with more comedic ones. How do you find a balance between these two aspects, and what do you like so much about combining these opposites?

—I like both comedy and serious plots, so I wanted to draw both - in the end, I combined the two without really thinking much about it. I usually just let this come to me naturally while I’m drawing too, although I do keep the timing in mind. For example, it wouldn’t be appropriate to make a joke in the middle of a sad or serious scene, and vice versa. So, I take care not to destroy the atmosphere that I’m trying to convey [in each given scene].

Personally, which character from The Ones Within is your favorite?

—I can’t really “rank” my characters because I love them all! Going by who’s the easiest to draw, it would be Anya. He’s a pretty straight-forward type, so he’s easy to understand. He’s also the only one who looks angry a lot of the time and has eye bags… and his accessories, like the helmet, his iron bar or the chewing gum - they make him stand out and thus easy to draw.

Do you already have an ending planned for The Ones Within or do you still have a few options to choose from?

—The ending is already planned out!

Do you maybe already have a new project in the works that you would like to tell us about?

—For now, I’m just really happy that The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation and I can finally talk about it, now that it’s getting officially announced this May! I can’t wait to see my characters animated on the screen!

A final word to your fans?

—Thank you so much for reading my manga! There are so many Japanese manga series out there, and I’m really happy that you chose to read mine out of all of them. The Ones Within is getting an anime adaptation, and of course the manga is still ongoing as well, so I hope you will stick around and enjoy it until the end. Thank you!

Osora-sensei, thank you very much for the interview!

I tried to decipher these but the picture was too small to read much sadly agdjsdvhs

The bigger page seems to be some Kudou bros goodness? They seem to be talking about Shinya having Kenya's piercings (and maybe about Anya getting piercings as well, considering his very resolute "I don't want to." lol) and they're also mentioning ramen at some point from what I can decipher

And the bottom right looks like some kind of character relationship chart / worldbuilding notes,,,

[theindiegamereview]

Meet the creative team: “Spellstone”

Are you a collectible card game (CCG) fan? If so, read on, because this week we spoke to the makers of Spellstone, a free-to-play (F2P) casual story-based fantasy card game that features vibrant, colourful, hand-drawn art on hundreds of beautiful cards that you can acquire and use in battle, both against the computer and other players!

TIGR: PABLO and DUSTIN are artists who have worked on Spellstone's art, helping create some of the iconic characters Spellstone fans know and love. We asked them how they came to work on the game, as well as what intrigued them about this project.

DUSTIN: I was working as a contract artist when I was asked to create some sample cards for a potential CCG, which is something I'd always wanted to do. The samples I submitted eventually led to me getting a contract to create the initial art for Spellstone. After about four months, I was offered a full-time position. I had such a great experience working with the team that I jumped at the opportunity!

PABLO: Prior to starting work on Spellstone, I remember doing an art piece to test my skills. I greatly enjoyed that because I particularly liked this game's art style - which is actually similar to my own! There were still slight differences though, so I've had to adapt a little. Blending my own personal style into an existing one was challenging. But something that intrigued me about Spellstone was the variety of factions in the game. Each and every one opens up a big array of possibilities when it comes to creating a character. I felt my options were unlimited and I loved it!

TIGR: Spellstone features many different cards and characters. We wanted to know who conceptualises all this, and how much creative licence artists get when crafting a character. FERNANDO, currently the main artist for the game, gave us more insight.

FERNANDO:  That Spellstone has such an immense variety of characters means it's a complete and delightful dish for artists. It's hugely gratifying to find such visual diversity with which to play with. You're completely free to create, as long as you respect the game's universe and visual language.

As for the process, the concept of what a card must look like and how it must be functional in terms of gameplay comes from the guys in the game design department. Very creative people... sorcerers maybe? I don't know. Haha!

From a brief but concise description they give me, I can get a sense of what kind of character and action they want to see in a card. Once I have all the information I need to start sketching, my favourite hour finally begins: creative hour!

If the card description involves an existing type of character, like a goblin, part of the fun has to do with the way you depict that character, situation, action and specific emotion. There's also some freedom to create from scratch if needed - that's exciting and challenging! Sometimes the ideas come from a mix of characters, and that's when the laboratory inside my mind starts working: I press a button and something cool, spooky or funny comes out - whatever the game requires. Other times, new concepts require that I look for approximate references of what's needed, so that serves as the starting point. No matter what, it's always a very enjoyable process. Sometimes we have to make corrections, that's true. But as with everything in life, this is necessary for things to work properly. You may have to redraw stuff, but finally the card is done - it works, it delivers and it entertains!

  TIGR: In Spellstone, cards can be upgraded from a single to a dual to a quad, and we really like that this sometimes tells a "mini story" of of sorts through the artwork. Some are funny (we just love Honeycomb Lobber!), some cute (Bomb Spirit is soooo adorable when he’s angry!), some uplifting (Aurora Shaver ranks among our favourites), and some, um, a bit disturbing, to be honest (Cleaverstorm Hunter, anyone?!)! And some are just sad - we can't help but feel sorry for the poor li'l forest furries that presumably got devoured by Alphamech Stalker! We asked the team how they came up with ideas for all these tiny narratives, and MELINDA, one of the game designers, told us more.

MELINDA: When I was younger, there were a few creatures in video games that terrified me. One of those I remembered most was Medusa, an air jellyfish from Ecco: The Tides of Time. While traversing through a water pathway in the sky, Medusa would try to pick up Ecco the dolphin and fling him off the path. Tetraspout's concept came from that, and you can even see poor little dolphins getting swept up in its attack!

  TIGR: We asked the team if there were any cards they particularly liked creating, or found challenging to conceptualise. IVÁN, a colorist who worked briefly on the game, chipped in, as did TONY and RHADA, two of Spellstone's game designers.

DUSTIN: I loved working on the goblin cards! You could get silly with them. Frogs were a lot of fun too - the variety of colours made them interesting. For me, the water cards were challenging but I grew to love working on them.

PABLO: My favourite characters are Goblins! You can play around with them, making them look funny even when the card is telling a dark story, like a massacre. All of the cards were challenging to create!

IVÁN: I enjoyed working on Hedron The Critical Threat, Zyd The Unhinged, and some awesome Insect cards that have yet to be released (as of the time of this interview). I mostly liked them because of their cool concepts and Fernando's awesome sketches. Hedron in particular was a technical painting challenge, as it has textures, transparencies and glow!

TONY: As something of an artist myself (/sarcasm), the card I am most proud of has to be Dinged Waptor. Or really any of the cards I did for the April Fool's event, which is about the only time the art team lets me anywhere near card art. :) For April Fool's, I decided it would be funny to try my hand at drawing some cards I felt players would enjoy. So the first year I drew some original characters that consisted of a few stick figures, a chicken, and a bomb. The response was good, so the following year I continued the tradition, eventually going through and tracing some famous cards like Winged Raptor. My one rule while making these cards was that I could not erase what I did!

RHADA: We used to sell boxes that contained two new premium cards instead of one. We thought of making both cards in the box thematically linked. At the same time, while brainstorming concepts for dragons, I thought we could try to make cards that formed a bigger picture on the battlefield when placed consecutively, side by side. The initial idea was a serpent whose artwork overflowed into a second card, and after some iteration, we stumbled upon the idea of a dragon dance. The result was very cool!

TIGR: With the Spellstone story campaign recently concluded, we asked what was next in store for Spellstone fans. Would there be anymore new characters and amazing art to look forward to?

TONY: Absolutely! While the main story has come to a close, we still look forward to adding new characters, cards, and art to the game that lets our artists have fun and shows off the world of Spellstone.

TIGR: And finally, the most important question of all: would real-life Spellstone merchandise ever be made available for fans of the game? We really want a plushie of the adorable Bomb Spirit (complete with detachable bombs, perhaps?), as well as his angry counterpart, Firebomb Spirit! Also for Quetee Que and Adorabilis, please! And would there ever be any actual physical Spellstone cards produced for collectors?

TONY: I would personally love to see real-life merchandise, but we currently do not have the means to take on such an endeavour. Maybe one day we can strike a partnership with a team that can make this happen!

We thank the Spellstone team for their time and all the wonderful art assets that accompany this interview! Check out the game here on Kongregate, on Steam, or on mobile - three different ways you can enjoy this fun, cheeky and adorable CCG!

P.S. We just had to include our favourite card: Darkwater Adonis - don’t be fooled by his charms!

[autumnsart22]

Chapter 14: Oikawa x reader

Hey! Sorry for the late update, I’ve had a hectic past few days. We’re getting super close to the end of this fanfic, I love you if you’ve stuck with it this long. I think next week’s chapter is going to be the final one so stay tuned :) 

Oikawa POV:

During class on Monday, I could barely keep my eyes open. Our teacher seemed to lecture for hours, and every minute seemed to take a week. To occupy myself, I simply stared at Y/n. 

It had started when she had first become our manager, when I was trying to get a reading on her and whether or not she would be a good fit for the team. In the end, I just found her a billion times more interesting than anything else. 

With my head resting on my palm, I watched her scribble violently on the page in front of her, her head tilted and forehead scrunched up. It didn’t look like she was taking notes, which meant she was probably drawing. I knew that it was a hobby of hers--she always seemed to have lead stains on her finger tips from smudging--but she rarely let me look at any of her work. What I had seen had blown me away, but she always would get all red and flustered if I tried to ask to see more. 

It seemed that she was having a particularly hard time with the sketch she was doing now, her hand clenched tightly around the pencil in frustration and an annoyed look on her face. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing as she began cursing under her breath, erasing violently. 

I sighed. How was she so pretty? And what was I going to do? Because being close to her all the time without confessing was looking more and more impossible with every day that went by. 

✨✨✨✨

Y/n POV:

The bell rang and I let out a long breath, closing my notebook and packing away my pencils. I glared one more time at the stupid sketch of Iwaizumi and Oikawa, which just didn’t look right! It was something about Iwa’s nose that was off…Since I was in class, I didn’t want to risk using my phone for a reference picture, but I would fix it later. 

As I got to my feet, Oikawa came over to stand by my desk, hitching his bag on his shoulder. He had taken off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, his red tie a little loose around his neck. 

“God that was so horrendous…” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. I nodded, laughing as he made a face at the teacher. I noticed a few girls glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored them. He wasn’t with them right now; he was with me. 

I swung my bag over my shoulder, scooping up my sketchbook and following Oikawa out of the classroom. Iwaizumi met us in the crowded hall, glowering at everyone who passed. When he saw us, he looked vaguely relieved, which instantly melted back into annoyance as we started the journey out of the packed space. 

We were almost to the door when a first year sprinted around a corner, crashing directly into me. I grunted and dropped my sketchbook, papers scattering everywhere. 

“Oh sorry! I’m late to class!” The first year said, not even trying to help me clean up as he took off once again down the hall. 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi yelled, looking ready to chase down the students and make him apologize. 

“It’s fine,” I sighed, patting his arm and leaning down to start scooping up my papers. Iwa and Oikawa moved to help me, and I felt my heart practically stop as I realized what they would see. 

“Wait--!” 

Too late. Both Iwa and Oikawa stared at the pictures scattered on the ground, Oikawa’s mouth slightly open and even Iwa’s eyes a bit wide. 

They were all of Oikawa. 

Ok, maybe not all of them. Some of them were sketches of the whole team, or of Iwaizumi. I had a bunch of all us three, and some just random doodles. But the majority were of Seijoh’s captain, different angles, different styles, color or no color, his hands, his eyes, his hair. Dear god, it was like looking at Oikawa through a many lensed mirror. 

I felt my entire body flush, and I quickly began to snatch up the papers as fast as possible, not caring if they crumpled or tore. 

“Woah, what are you doing? Be careful with them!” Oikawa said, carefully stacking the drawings and handing them to me in a neat stack. His cheeks were tinted pink, but he smiled widely. “Why are you so red, Chibi-chan? These are amazing!”

“Ugh,” I was so embarrassed I could barely speak. “You-it’s not-you’re just easy to draw!” 

Oikawa grinned smugly. “Hear that Iwa-chan? Y/n likes drawing me! Makes sense--I am extremely attractive, after all.” 

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and smacked Oikawa on the back of the head. “Stupid pretty boy,” he grunted. 

My laugh was a bit strained, but I managed to stuff all the papers away before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of the middle of the hallway.”

As we walked outside, Oikawa turned to me. “Have you ever considered going to art school?” 

I blinked in surprise. I had in fact considered applying to a few, but I knew my parents would never let me go. How did he know that? 

“A bit but...my parents…”

Both Iwa and Oikawa knew how strict my parents were, and how much I was pressured by them. Oikawa looked frustrated, crossing his arms and stopping in the middle of the path, making Iwaizumi and I turn to look at him. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I think you should apply, if that’s what you want to do.” He pointed to the sketchbook I clutched close to my chest. “Those are so good, Y/n. You could really do something with your talent.” 

I bit my lip. “But--”

Oikawa put his finger on my lips, stopping me from speaking. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But think about it, ok? It’s your life, not your parents’.”

Later that day, I sat down on my bed and began to research art schools in Japan. 

✨✨✨✨

“Alright everyone, circle up!” Coach Nobuteru yelled, and the team dropped their volleyballs and headed over to the bench. I tapped my clipboard with my pen, where I had written out comments for each of the players. “Good job today everyone. We have a practice game coming up, so keep up the good work. I’ll let Y/n give you any comments she has about your form.” 

I nodded, smiling. “Everyone has improved so much, I’m so proud of you. I just took a few notes to hopefully help you out.”

I went around and read my comments, which were pretty brief, before letting everyone start cleaning up. 

I began picking up extra volleyballs while the boys changed, rolling up the net and packing up my stuff. My team began filtering out, waving to me as they left. 

“Have a good day!” 

“See you tomorrow!” 

I grinned. “Great job again everyone!” 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa emerged last, and Iwa told us he had to get home to see his mom. Apparently she had started a new treatment where she needed to be in the hospital far more, so he wanted to see her at home when he could. 

I turned to Oikawa, shuffling my feet a little bit. “Um.”

He looked at me curiously. “Yeah?”

“Well I--I don’t know, I was thinking-- I kind of want to um...learn how to serve?” 

Oikawa blinked. “You do?” 

“Yeah, I just. I don’t know, I always give you guys criticism, but I don’t even know how to play. I know I won’t be very good but I just thought…” I trailed off. 

When I glanced up at Oikawa, his eyes were bright and excited. “Oh my god, you’re so cute! I’ll totally teach you how to serve, I’m the best after all.”

I sighed, laughing a little. “Ok then. What do I have to do?”

Oikawa rolled the basket of volleyballs over to the end of the court, showing me how to hold the ball and position myself. 

As I expected, I was absolutely horrendous. I hit the net over and over, or my tosses were too weak to even get close. I cursed violently, but Oikawa thought it was hilarious. He was a good teacher, and obviously an excellent server, but I couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. 

“Don’t worry, it takes a lot of practice. It took me years to get this good.” 

“Ok…” I pouted. 

“Here,” Oikawa wrapped his arms around my waist, adjusting my arms and stance. I shivered, the feeling of his muscles flexing behind me making my heart race. “You throw it like this.” 

He tossed the ball in the air and spiked it hard over the net. I leaned my head back to look at him and smiled. “I think I’ll leave the serving to you.” 

His face was inches away and he gently touched my chin. “Whatever you say, Chibi-chan.” 

We packed up the volleyballs and net, and I locked the door as we headed out. The sky had darkened, and I shivered a little as we headed towards the student parking lot. 

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked, glancing at Oikawa. 

“Ugh, just homework mostly. I have an essay coming up that’s due soon.” 

“God--” 

“Oikawa-san!” A voice called from behind us. “How are you?” 

We both turned, and I clenched my teeth as two pretty girls moved across the grass towards us. I noticed Oikawa grimace before his fake smile was pulled across his face like a mask. 

“Hey! I’m doing good. How are you?” 

One of the girls giggled. “Great. Are you busy tonight?”

I swallowed, turning away without looking at Oikawa. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oikawa-san.” 

I walked away towards the cars, not looking back. I could hear the girls still talking, but I tugged my beats from around my neck and placed them over my ears to block them out. 

As I unlocked my car, I felt a hand on my arm spinning me around. Oikawa gazed down at me imploringly, tugging my headphones off my ears. 

“Why’d you leave me like that?” He asked, looking betrayed. 

“Huh? I thought you’d want to talk to them.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so oblivious.” 

I raised my eyebrows. “So you didn’t want to talk to them?”

“No, why would I when I have you?”

I went red, hiding a smile. “Ok then.” 

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

[mcrmadness]

I know I am constantly talking about this but I won’t stop before I get answers, which means I’m probably gonna talk about this forever: arts and especially being an artist on social media platforms. And how it sucks.

I don’t understand what I should do to feel seen at this point? If I draw something fandom related, mainly the people within that fandom will react to the art but not others, and still that is very little amount of people. If I draw something completely original, NO ONE reacts to that and I don’t understand why. And it’s not just me but so many others too.

I still cannot understand why comics and cartoony styles are so much less appreciated and liked than photorealism. It’s not actually any easier really. Just last night I spent a couple of hours on my sofa drawing panels for 3 upcoming comics, that was just 3 A4 papers but it still took me a couple of hours to do. Because I draw traditionally and I draw everything, including the lines, myself. I’m not getting any help from computers even if I could. I’m getting better and better at that and finding things that work for me the more I do this but still, drawing comics is not as easy as it might look like. Before I maybe just grabbed a pen and started drawing but that never actually led me to anywhere because I had no plot. So I have tons of old comics here that I started but never ever finished. Then I figured I have to start writing plots first and that way I could also finish something finally. 

^This is what it takes to prepare and do a base for a comic. There’s three pages with the panels’ edges sketched. I use rulers to measure how big areas I want there to be around the panels and then measure and count (which I’m really bad at) how long and tall each panel will be. Before I struggled a lot with getting the lines to be at the same distance from both ends but lately I’ve found myself a way to do that, and it’s relatively quick to do now too.

^Here I have written down the digits from the ruler to know where to draw the little dots that I know to follow with the ruler when I do the lines of the panels. Normally I do just one comic at a time but this time I was feeling like doing all 3 upcoming comics’ lines at one go cos that’s always the most annoying part and after that I don’t need to worry about that anymore (until the next comic idea happens) and I can just focus on the fun part: drawing the stuff inside those panels.

Nowadays I do a whole lot of planning before I get to working, too. Usually just the planning takes about 4-5 pages from my bigger sketchbook and I will write down alternative stuff as I go if I can’t decide over something or am not sure if it’s going to work. Sometimes I write the same dialog a few times because something isn’t working or I can’t fit them into the amount of panels I need, or because there’s not enough activity in the panels and need to discard some parts of the dialog. I usually see my comics in the form of video in my head that I then have to convert into still images, from there I then start to build the pages and try to make all them to match.

I do storyboards in both stick figures, sometimes more than once, as well as in quick sketches. I will plan carefully how many panels I need so that I know how many papers I need and which way I can fit all the panels in the paper(s). That often means either adding or dropping panels to avoid having too much empty space on a page - something I didn’t do before, I just drew the panels somewhere and never really stopped to think about the aesthetics of the comic itself.

^This is an example of my latest comic and how do I do the page planning. I couldn’t fit the events into 3 panels. Originally it was going to be like a comic strip but it was too long for that so I ended up doing a full page (A4) with 4 panels instead. I found this is a working method for me: to draw the paper and see how the “panels” would look like on that. I drew these along with the stick figures and I will often write numbers into the panels to know which part of the dialog/event happens in which panel.

When the actual drawing process starts, I still actively use my sketchbooks (I have two) to practice something I’m not sure how to draw and I will also use reference photos for that. I will also try out things if I only have a shady image in my head and need to see how it really looks like so I might e.g. draw a similar posture a few different ways to see which one of those matches the one in my imagination the best. I will also test colors, layering, blending, shading and all that jazz as well.

^And this is what some of those “studies” look like, these are to the previous comic as well. I usually am not entirely sure what I want until I see it on the paper as sometimes the images in my head are not as vivid and bright as I would want them to be and something might look good there but terrible and wrong on the paper instead. Here I struggled with the coloring because as you can see, I know how to do the proper “night shading” in black and white but it was very tricky to do in color!

So that’s just a quick look at how I do my comics and it really is not that I just grab a fineliners (anymore) and draw and that’s it. There’s pages and pages of careful planning and testing in my sketchbooks, there’s lots of measuring and losing my mind during the measuring-the-lines-for-the-panels part... I sketch the stuff to the panels often two times with pencils, first with just human shaped figures to see the overall pictures and then turning them into characters and adding all the details. After that I move onto the finelining, erase pencil marks and start coloring and doing shadows. When all that is done, I will do the finelining one more time so that the lines are actually black and not faded under the colored pencils.

In the end I do this all basically for myself but I also want to draw “to other people”. No one’s paying me anything so my only payment is to see or hear other people reacting to it. The biggest reward ever that I can get is to hear “that made me laugh!” because that’s why I draw comics. I want to make people laugh. And it isn’t working if no one looks at them, and when no one tells me why no one looks at them. Or at least people don’t let me know they have looked at it, they don’t let me know what they think of them so I am just left with the assumption that people don’t like my art at all and that it’s not worth commenting.

It’s incredibly dishearthening. It feels the same as when a child does something and goes to show them to their parent and the parent is just “yeah whatever”. Or when you are a teen come up with and show or tell it to your friends and everyone is like “I don’t care”. You might have the passion there but slowly it starts to die because you have the need for sharing but everyone is only caring about themselves and not other people anymore. It’s really sad actually.

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 35 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet’s promotion became official, and Bianca set her sights on a certain blonde.

This Chapter: Violet begins her new job, and things are not exactly what she expected.

***

Even though everything was technically all the same, Violet felt like she had walked into a completely different building.

She had greeted Roxy with a smile, the receptionist at her desk when Violet had walked in at 9:30 for her visit with HR, people actually present unlike when Violet usually came in at the crack of dawn. Trixie had insisted that she take a slow morning, almost forbidding her to come in with the rest of the floor, and Violet guessed that it made sense since it was her first day.

Violet walked out of the elevator, her heels clacking on the floor, her stomach filled with butterflies.

Her morning had been a lot more messy than she preferred. She had changed her clothes a million times, unsure what to wear, until she had finally settled on a simple long sleeved top and a full skirt. It was completely Fame approved, but Violet felt comfortable in it, none of it too flashy or attention grabbing. Violet knew how to use a sewing machine in heels, but she still had a pair of flats in her bag, just in case someone truly cared about the company's safety guidelines.

She paused in front of the door, smoothing down her skirt, one, two, three times, before grabbing the handle and opening the door to the first day of the rest of her life.

“Violet!” Trixie smiled brightly, standing up from where he had been leaning over Gia’s shoulder, who was somehow still miraculously working at the company - even after her screw up in the Fall. “Welcome! I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Oh,” Violet stopped. She couldn’t remember ever being greeted with so much enthusiasm when coming into work, but it was nice, very nice. “I’m happy to be here?”

“Yes you are,” Trixie grinned, walking over to her, the man wearing a somewhat ridiculous white t-shirt with a pink and blue band logo Violet didn’t recognise. “We’re going to have so much fun, but first, Everyone!”

Trixie clapped his hands, catching the attention of the entire department who all turned to them.

“This is Violet Chachki, you all already know her as Fame’s assistant,” Trixie smiled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Say hi.”

“Hello,” Violet said, lifting her hand in greeting. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself, the whole thing horribly embarrassing, everyone looking at her. Violet wasn’t unused to attention, but she disliked it heavily when it was focused on her person, and not on something she had created.

She attempted a smile, doing her very best not to let anyone know how awkward she felt.

“She is going to be working with us now here in the best department of Galactica!” Trixie released her, earning a laugh from everyone. “I want you all to make her feel welcome and settled since we all know what it was like to be new,” he finished with a lot of them looking on with slight smiles and waves.

“You got it coach!”

Violet turned to look at the source of the voice, an incredibly tall bald man with a gigantic smile and a raspy voice the one who had called out. Violet recognized Bob, who was the design department's project manager, though she didn’t think she had ever seen him in Fame’s office.

“Let me show you around.” Trixie looped their arms together, dragging Violet with him before she had the chance to put down her bag, or even take off her jacket.

The design floor was a myriad of various fabrics in countless colors and prints with a multitude of textures to choose from.

Dress forms, in an assortment of sizes, lined the walls under large glass windows that brought in natural light and a beautiful view, of the east side, of Central Park.

The floor had neat rows of long work tables each with their own computers, drawing sections, sewing machines, hanging dress form and a rolling stool.

“Aaaaaaaand this, is your desk!” Trixie smiled brightly, throwing an arm out as he showed Violet her place.

“What…” Violet looked at the big collage that was put right in the middle. “Is that?”

“Right?” Trixie grinned, clearly very proud of himself “I made it for you.”

“Oh…” Violet bit her lip, unease welling up in her body. The gesture was kind, but it was strange to see so many pictures of herself, most of all because she had no idea when most of them had actually been taken. “Thank you.” She was sure she could stuff it in her drawer later, the paper looking sturdy enough to be shoved down there.

“Don’t mention it,” Trixie gave her a halfarm hug, holding her against his side for a minute. “Now, next on the agenda- Jovan, pay attention.”

“Sure thing coach.”

Violet watched as Jovan turned around, the man sitting backwards on his chair, one of his long limbs pulled up in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable position.

“Hello.” Jovan smiled, a gigantic white toothed grin on his face. He was bald, the top of his head somehow not smooth like Bob’s, but instead sort of wrinkly.

“Jovan will be your desk mate.”

Violet had wondered who she’d be seated next to, and while she had never actually spoken to Jovan, he wasn’t her worst option.

“Hello,” Violet held out her hand, “I’m Violet.”

“Please,” Jovan snorted, grabbing her hand in a surprisingly hard grip. “I already know who you are.”

“Jovan is one of our contemporary designers.”

Violet nodded, hiding a smile. It was clear as day that Jovan was in contemporary, his shirt a multicolored almost neon asymmetrical tunic.

“One of the best,” Jovan squeezed her hand, letting it go, “contemporary designers. Don’t touch my stuff, and I promise that you and I will get along great.”

“Jovan-” Trixie started scolding, but Violet cut in.

“I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Violet put her bag on the table. She had never seen Trixie scold anyone, but judging by the furrow of his brow, Jovan was toeing the line.

“What’s on the agenda, coach?” Jovan had somehow managed to cross his legs around the chair, a pencil dangling from his mouth.

“Oh,” Trixie smiled, and Violet reached inside her bag, grabbing her notebook. “Violet has the morning off.”

“Wha-” Violet paused, unsure if she had heard Trixie correctly. “Excuse me, what did you say?” It was only Monday, but Violet knew that design had their weekly department wide meetings every Thursday, and if she was being honest, she had expected to be thrown directly into the work, the Christmas collection just around the corner.

“The morning off.” Trixie grinned. “Decorate your desk, say hi to everyone, get all your little knick knacks in order and later we’ll have cake to celebrate your first day.”

***

Jovan groaned slightly. He was supposed to be working on the holiday collection but he just couldn’t seem to find an interesting angle.

Jovan didn’t like making gowns, and though he had managed once or twice to sneak in a pants suit or something mildly interesting, Raja and Fame had a clear almost inarguable preference towards high classic glamor when it came to the holidays.

He flipped back and forth between his sketches, pencil in his mouth, erasing a line here of adding one there. After a bit, he sensed a disturbance in the energy, his attention shifted slightly across the table to his new deskmate.

Violet was sitting at her desk, tapping her nails on the wood, her lip between her teeth as she was looking out on the department. She was practically radiating nervous energy, her desk already all neatly set up.

Jovan noticed a leather bound planner, a collection of pens and pencils in an empty Dior box, a thick stack of sketching paper, as well as a well stocked sewing kit, a golden pair of scissors sticking out.

She seemed to be in worse shape than he was, clearly not used to being given idle creative time, and Jovan smiled slightly, deciding to take pity on her.

“Hey, Violet.” Jovan pushed his chair out, scooting over to her table. “I’m working on this dress,” Jovan put his sketches down on Violet’s desk, “and I can’t figure out the hem length. Will you check it out?”

“Oh, um, sure…” Violet leaned over the desk table, pushing a bit of her hair behind her ear. Jovan hadn’t noticed the bracelet or her rings before, the golden jewelry clearly well worn, but also well taken care of. “What’s the problem?”

“See, I’m trying it three different ways, but they all feel wrong...” Jovan tapped his sketches, already enjoying how seriously Violet considered the question, examining each sketch closely and looking at them back and forth a few times before attempting an answer.

“I like the length on the second one, but the shoulders on the third one might balance it out more,” she finally said, and he smiled.

“Yeah, good call, thanks!” Jovan stretched, yawning slightly. He was already feeling much better, but Violet still looked lost.

“I need caffeine.” Jovan stood up. “You wanna come for some espresso or a latte or something?”

“Oh.” Violet looked genuinely surprised at his request, sneaking a quick glaze at Trixie’s closed office door before she made up her mind. “Um, alright…” Violet reached for her coat, but Jovan stopped her.

“No,” Jovan smiled. “I just mean the espresso machine we have in the break room.” Jovan pointed over his shoulder, Violet following his fingers, her brow furrowing. “You did know that we have a break room down here, right?”

Jovan had heard the rumor that Fame only drank Starbucks, though he hadn’t imagined that her assistants shared the luxury, but Violet shook her head, the woman both looking mystified and curious, and Jovan realised that he had never actually seen her in any of the Galactica break rooms ever.

“Come on,” Jovan grabbed her elbow, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll show you.”

***

“Stop, omigod, I can’t breathe,” Maxwell wheezed, clutching Bob’s shoulder and practically choking with laughter at his boyfriend’s story.

“No, but listen. Then Acid turned to him and-”

Maxwell reached up and covered Bob’s mouth with his hand, having just spotted Jovan strolling towards the break room with Violet in tow.

“Incoming mole,” he warned, giving a nod with his head.

Maxwell had been working at Galactica for his entire career - over ten years now. He’d seen many assistants come and go from Miss Fame’s office.

Most of the time, they moved on to other jobs in the industry, working for buyers or as stylists. Occasionally, they were promoted within the company. Shangela had started off as Fame’s assistant years ago, and so had Laganja in marketing. But this was the first time anyone had been sent to design. Granted, Violet was one of the more competent and longer-lasting assistants, but still.

He was suspicious.

Bob seemed perfectly ready to welcome Violet to the family with open arms. Maxwell, on the other hand, was more cautious, and the last thing he wanted was for Violet to walk in on some debaucherous story about drag queens.

“Look professional!” he hissed, before removing his hand.

“First of all, I’m always professional. And second, would you relax?” Bob smirked, leaning against the table, his favorite mug in hand. “She seems perfectly nice.”

“Oh please,” Maxwell huffed, “You just want upstairs gossip.”

For as long as Bob has been at the company--nearly as long as Maxwell, he’d been utterly fascinated with senior management. Their weird quirks and tempestuous moods, all the tabloid nonsense.

“Uh!” Bob gasped, holding a hand to his chest. “I resent that!”

“Well, resent it or not, it’s true,” Maxwell quipped.

“You name one time when I’ve been the source of gossip around here,” Bob said, a hand on his hip, in full queen mode.

“That’s...what...all the time!” Maxwell sputtered, caught off guard by that ridiculous defense. Bob was a notorious gossip. He was the only person Maxwell knew who still talked on the phone with multiple people every day, for fun. It was half the reason why they’d never moved in together, Maxwell unable to imagine living with Bob’s need to talk on the phone for hours in the evening. Maxwell enjoyed people too, sometimes, but after work, he more often than not wanted some peace and solitude.

“So you can’t name one specific time? Interesting.” Bob’s brown eyes glittered with amusement, always the happiest when he was in teasing mode.

“You’re impossible!” Maxwell turned to Jovan, who was now busy with the espresso machine. “Bob says he’s not a gossip.”

“Ha!” Jovan snorted. “Violet, what do you want?”

“An americano is more than fine.” Violet smiled, and Maxwell realised that he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen that expression on the former assistants face before.

He had never spoken with her before, Ivy always the assistant who came along to the design meetings, but he had seen her follow Fame down the halls, and he still remembered how bad he had felt for her during Fame’s temperature meltdown at their September show.

“Violet, Violet, Violet,” Bob put a hand down, turning his body towards her. “Do not listen to them.” Bob pouting at both Maxwell and Jovan. “I’m not a gossip. I’m a very trustworthy confidante, so if you have anything you need to share about, you know, upstairs...I’m all ears.” Bob grinned.

“Ah!” Maxwell cried triumphantly, “Case in fucking point you fucking gossip!”

“Upstairs?” Violet looked genuinely confused for a moment.

“You know,” Bob pointed at the ceiling, “Upstairs.”

“Ah.”

Maxwell made a face at Bob, clearing his throat slightly.

Why did he have to reveal everything right away? They didn’t know how trustworthy this girl was yet, and so they should really assume zero percent. It was the only safe and logical conclusion.

“Sorry, assistant code,” said Violet with an apologetic shrug. “My lips are sealed”

“Wow. Okay, I see how it is,” Bob said, and Maxwell rolled his eyes.

“Honestly Bob, what if she’d come down here and started reporting all kinds of rumors? Wouldn’t that make you concerned?” he asked, reaching up to tug on on Bob’s ear.

“Concerned…. Entertained… Potato, potahto.” Bob grinned, taking another sip from his mug.

“Goddammit,” Jovan said, struggling with the machine. “Cracks, can you help me? This fucking thing, we need a new one-”

“Sure.” Maxwell stepped over to the machine to assist. He remembered when Trixie first got it for them, almost six years ago, how everyone had just gone crazy over it. But lately it was acting up, and the designers were not pleased when they needed to wait an extra 30 seconds for coffee. The company should really take care of it before there was some kind of mutiny. He made a mental note to talk to Trixie later.

“So, Violet,” Bob continued, “How’s it going? Is our boy Jovan being cool, or is he in one of his moods?”

“Fuck off,” Jovan cut in, sitting down heavily. “I’m fucking delightful.”

Maxwell chuckled to himself over that, Jovan’s stormy moods something everyone in the department knew intimately.

“He’s been very kind,” Violet said, her hand gripping the edge of her skirt.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bob smiled, rolling his eyes. “Look, Violet, let me give you some advice,” Bob turned to Jovan. “You’ve gotta pay attention to that big vein in his forehead, and when it starts popping out...run.”

“Oh.”

“Eat a dick, Bob.”

“Yours?” Bob looked down, leering at Max’s brown khakis, a grin on his face, “Or like, any dick?” Bob teased, wiggling his brows. “Either way, I’m down.”

Maxwell rolled his eyes, giving Bob a Look intended to say ‘not in mixed company,’ gesturing towards Violet, the poor girl probably scandalized by this kind of talk, judging from her ramrod straight posture and demurely folded hands.

He turned to Jovan for backup, only to find him sitting at one of the tables, big wrinkly head in his hands. Maxwell tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to help him avoid an existential crisis before eleven am.

“How’s the Hanukkah dress?” Maxwell asked, which is what he’d been jokingly calling the blue cocktail number that poor Jovan was working on. Jovan rolled his eyes.

“Killing me. Violet had a good idea though, so I guess I’ll try that.”

“Are you gonna embroider a menorah on the front?” Maxwell teased.

“No, I was thinking that the skirt would just be a giant dreidel.”

Maxwell laughed at that, though truth be told, you could never be too sure with Jovan. He might just do it.

“Did Coach assign you anything yet, Violet?” Bob asked.

“No..” Violet tilted her head. “Is there a reason you call him that?”

“Oh. Yeah. So, Trixie’s the only straight guy around here-”

“Straight identified,” Maxwell corrected, and Violet snorted, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“Yeah, so, we like to give him shit. We call him Coach. You know...” Bob made his hand into a fist and punched Violet very lightly on the shoulder, deepening his voice. “Coach!”

“He’s the only straight guy, and of course he’s the one in charge of the department,” Jovan added pointedly.

“Well, yes, there’s also that,” Bob chuckled. “Anyway, have you gotten an assignment for the holiday collection? I’ve seen some pictures of your student stuff,” Trixie had dropped by with Violet’s portfolio, shoving it to Bob who had loved flipping through it. “I assumed you’d be doing gowns most of the time.”

“No-” Violet opened her mouth, but then seemed to rethink it, and close it again. “Not yet.”

“So...Chachki,” Maxwell said, handing her coffee over. “Are you Jewish?”

“No,” Violet said simply, and Bob burst out laughing.

“She said nope,” he giggled, popping the p.

“Well, where are you from? What’s your deal? Tell us everything,” Maxwell continued, undeterred by Bob’s laughter.

“Oh. Um… There’s not much to tell. I graduated from Parsons a few years ago. I’m originally from Atlanta-”

“Hey! Me too!” Bob exclaimed. “I’m from Clayton County. Where’d you go to high school?”

“-But I’ve been in New York since I was 13.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

“I got a job working for Miss Fame, and...that’s about it.” Violet looked around, her lip between her teeth.

“Wow. Fascinating,”

“Sorry, I’m not very interesting.”

“No no,” Maxwell said. “You should write a memoir.”

“Omigod, she’s like twelve years old, leave her alone,” Bob said. “In case you haven’t noticed, Violet, these guys are a mess and you should ignore 98% of everything they say.”

Bob put his arm around Maxwell, squeezing him affectionately even as the insults rolled off his tongue.

“And what about you?” Maxwell asked.

“Me?” Bob asked. “Oh, fully same.”

***

“What,” Violet was staring at the table, a brown concoction staring right back at her, “on earth is this?”

“You never seen one before?” Alexis smiled, getting in next to her, “They call it a cronut, girl. Everyone in the city is obsessed with them,” she grabbed one, “and they’re delicious.”

Violet had spent lunch with Alexis, Gia and April, the three women slipping back and forth between English and Spanish, their conversation practically impossible to follow, but Violet hadn’t minded.

It had been incredibly nice to just sit with someone for lunch without constantly checking her phone, Violet unsure if she had ever actually had an uninterrupted lunch break at Galactica before.

“Huh.” Violet bit her lip, still not too sure about the offered treat. “Are we already-”

“Hey, Violet-” Violet turned her head to see Blu slip in next to her, a big smile on the Irish woman's beautiful face. Her ginger hair was pushed back with a hairband, her grey eyes attentive and kind. “Are you coming to the happy hour?”

“Happy hour?”

“Mmh,” Blu nodded, “a couple of us always go round the corner for a pint on Mondays at 5:30. You know, for bonding and stuff.”

“Huh.” Violet bit her lip. She had seen Blu and Gia working that morning, but it seemed strange to her that they were expecting to be let go at 5:30, the whole thing even stranger since both Blu and Gia were actively enjoying the pastries.

“So, you coming?”

“Oh, no,” Violet did her best to smile, to look genuinely apologetic. “I can’t.”

Sutan had texted her about whether or not she wanted to come over after work, and Violet couldn’t wait to cuddle up on the couch, tucked safe and sound under Sutan’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Blu smiled, though Violet wasn’t sure it actually was based on the look in her eyes, “You can come next time-”

“Violet!” Blu was cut off as Trixie came over, “Blu! Are you enjoying the cronuts?”

“Yes boss,” Blu held up her cronut, over half of it gone. “It’s delicious.”

“Have you had any, Violet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Here.” Trixie grabbed a plate, quickly scooping one up for her. “It’s pumpkin chai this month!”

“Thanks.” Violet took it, unsure what to do. It wasn’t that she hated all desserts, wasn’t that she hated all sweets, but what she did hate was trying new things when she was feeling nervous, and even though everyone had been beyond kind to her so far, she couldn’t help the unsettling feeling in her stomach that something wasn’t right.

“I can’t wait to see your finished blouse,” Trixie was smiling, his hand on Blu’s arm. “I’m counting on you.”

“Mmh,” Blu nodded, pride in her eyes, and Trixie gave her one last squeeze, clearly intending to walk on and make sure everyone was having a good time.

“Trixie-” Violet took a step forward, her now boss turning around to look at her.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, if I could-” Violet wanted to throw herself out the window, the entire thing so terribly awkward, the fact that she was daring to even consider questioning her boss’ process, “it’s about the holiday collection-”

“Oh, that silly thing?” Trixie laughed, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But,” Violet took another step forward, “I’d like to, like to worry, that is-”

“You’ll watch the design meeting on Thursday, see how things are done around here.” Trixie smiled. “Ease into it, take it slow.”

“But I have an idea for-” Violet didn’t know if she was allowed, but she had already picked up a few of the unfavored fabric swatches, a white silk and some crushed red velvet so to Fame’s taste that she knew she had to give it a try.

“If you really want to speed things up, you can spend tomorrow shadowing April.”

“Really?” It wasn’t what Violet truly wanted, but anything, literally anything, would be better than another day of ‘taking it slow’.

“It’ll be perfect for you,” Trixie smiled, “I promise.”

Trixie then took a bite of the cronut in his hand, his eyes going wide. He turned from Violet to call out, “Kimberly! Kim, did you try these pumpkin chai cronuts?! Oh my god...”

As her boss wandered off to wax poetic about his pastry, Violet dug her fingers into her palm. Wasn’t this department supposed to be the lifeblood of the company? Why was everyone so chill?

Violet tried to be positive, tried to believe that Trixie was only doing what he thought best for her, but she couldn’t help wondering if she was still working for Galactica, the feeling of utterly uselessness washing over her for the first time since she had started at the company.

***

“Are you feeling chopsticks or fork?”

“Fork please.”

“Of course.” Violet smiled as Sutan began to dig through his cutlery drawer, soft jazz playing from the radio in the window. She had gotten somewhat used to seeing him without his suits in Paris, early morning Sutan walking around in pajama pants and t-shirts for as long as he could, but there was something special about seeing him in casual chinos and the sweaters he seemed to favor now that it was getting colder outside.

They were in his kitchen, Violet sitting at the table. When she had come over, Sutan had been setting up in the dining room, but she had asked him if they could please sit in the kitchen instead, the room so much cosier and lived in than the dining room.

Violet had been looking forward to her first day in design since she started at Galactica, but now that she had gotten there, it felt like a hollow victory.

She was sure tomorrow would be better, that it’d be more meaningful, but for now, she just wanted to spend time with the man she really genuinely liked.

“Here you go.” Sutan handed her the fork. “You know,” Sutan smirked, crossing his arms, “You should really learn how to use chopsticks.”

“I know how to use chopsticks,” Violet looked up at Sutan, putting her fork down. “I just prefer not to.”

“Sure lovely eyes.” Sutan grinned, grabbing the back of her chair, leaning down to kiss her, when the doorbell rang.

“Ah,” Sutan gave her a quick peck, his lips tasting faintly like peppermint with an undercurrent of cigarettes, his eyes sparkling.

“That must be the food.” Sutan stood up, reaching into his pocket for a wad of cash Violet hadn’t even noticed. “Do you mind finishing setting the table?”

“Of course not.” Violet stood herself as Sutan walked out, and she quickly crossed the room, opening the cabinet she knew housed Sutan’s plates.

The request hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, Violet helping more often than not, but as she actually looked at the kitchen table, she realized what she had accidentally said yes to.

Sutan’s laptop was sitting in the middle, but besides that, the table was covered in work stuff, Sutan’s laptop, headshots, what Violet could only assume was contracts, folders and modeling portfolios spread all over.

She couldn’t see any kind of system, and if she had been at work she wouldn’t have dared to move a single thing, but Sutan had asked her to take care of it, and take care of it she would.

Violet knew Sutan had an office, but she had never actually seen him use it, or heard him mention it. Violet felt weird moving Sutan’s work things, but as she quickly piled it all on one end of the table, she recognized that this was probably why she liked the kitchen so much.

It was obviously the place in the apartment Sutan used the most, and the one she instinctively felt was more Sutan than Raja; everywhere else, even Sutan’s own bedroom, so obviously designed and furnished by his twin.

It was a strange thought that Raja had so much influence on Sutan’s life, but it wasn’t something she was ever going to bring up, their relationship none of her business.

Violet was just a moment in time for Sutan, so who was she to make any sort of suggestion about anything.

“Ah, great.” She was just setting the plates, when Sutan returned with more takeout bags than Violet had ever expected. “You’re almost done.”

“Are we expecting company?”

“Company?” Sutan looked confused for a moment, and Violet nodded her head towards the food in his arms, which caused him to laugh. “Please. This is just for us.” Sutan put the bags down, opening up the first one. “I figured it was worth celebrating your first day.”

“Huh.” Violet sat down on her chair once again, watching as Sutan produced one white cardboard carton after another. “How much did you get?”

“Oh you know, just a little bit of everything. I have dumplings, wontons and egg rolls, chow mein, orange chicken, beef and broccoli, black pepper scallops, garlic eggplant. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

Violet didn’t want to tell Sutan that she only had a very limited idea of what she genuinely liked beyond orange chicken and white rice, a childhood of bland suburban chain restaurants and her years in New York on a tight budget never leaving her much room for indulgence.

“Interesting.” Violet bit her lip, but Sutan grinned, continuing the unpacking. “Have you ever heard of cronuts?”

“What?” Sutan paused, a carton in hand. He turned to her, an eyebrow raised. “Lovely eyes. I may be older than you, but I don’t live under a rock?”

“Hmm.” Violet had no idea that cronuts were apparently so well known, but she wasn’t going to show Sutan that. “We had them at work today.”

“Did you like them?”

“Not really.” Violet took the carton of rice Sutan handed her. “They take a lot of breaks, at work, I mean.”

“Sounds like a nice place.” Sutan smiled, sitting down.

VIolet nodded, opening her rice as Sutan started talking about his day. It was always nice to be around him, Sutan often chatting away in his low baritone, filling out the silence so Violet never felt obligated to speak if she didn’t want to.

“Oh-” Sutan paused, a piece of broccoli in his chopsticks. “That reminds me. What are you wearing on Friday?”

“Friday?” Violet quickly ran through her week in her head, and she was fairly certain that she had nothing on the agenda for friday.

“Yes? For Bianca’s birthday.”

“Bianca’s birthday? Bianca Del Rio?”

“Mmh.” Sutan popped the broccoli in his mouth, quickly chewing it. “It’s her 40th, and I figured it’d be nice if we coordinated.”

“Oh.” Violet bit her lip. Surprised that Sutan was dumping it on her like this, since she knew for a fact that he hadn’t mentioned it until this very moment. “And the birthday is this Friday?”

Violet tried to hide her anxiety, her heart speeding up in her chest. She didn’t have any idea what the dress code was and what to wear or where the party was being held.

“I can invite someone else?”

“What?” Violet’s head snapped up at the words. Sutan looked completely relaxed, like he hadn’t just dropped a gigantic bomb, like this wasn’t strange at all, like it was normal for him to have so many girls lined up that he could find someone with no problem at all.

“If you don’t want to go-”

“No, no.” Violet closed her hand, digging her fingers into her palm under the table. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll figure something out.”

[illshowyourhurricanes]

He Loves Me

Here, you’ll get another glimpse into the life of one non-gold digger, Mr. Benjamin Greene, in the form of another series of little moments that all leads up to something much bigger. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

Image prompt 10: Benjamin Greene x reader (requested by the lovely @breanime)

Rating: PG-13ish for mentions of nudity

Word count: 1712

Tag list: @obscurilicious @the-blind-assassin-12 @something-tofightfor @logan-deloss @lexxierave @madamrogers @yannii04 @gollyderek @carlaangel86 @bicevans @maydayfigment @thisisparadisemylove @ladyofnaps @malionnes @thesandbeneathmytoes @crushed-pink-petals-writes

Follower event tag list: @luminex3 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @witchygagirl @breanime 

If anyone wants to be added to/removed from my tag list, please just send me an ask!

Special thanks to @the-blind-assassin-12 for beta reading a little bit of this one!

This is related to all other Benjamin Greene x reader fics, which can all be found in my masterlist.

You woke up smiling. Eyes swollen from sleep, you rubbed at them with balled up fists, clearing morning residue from the corners. Reaching upward, you wiggled your fingers as you stretched your arms, feeling the overnight stiffness melt away from your fingertips to your shoulder blades. Your eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight streaming in between the slats of the blinds covering your windows. Pale yellow light decorated the floor in long parallel lines, breaking up the shadows. Benjamin’s soft snores as his chest rose and fell were the only sounds hindering the house from complete silence. It was tranquil. Perfect. 

Rolling onto your right side, you admired the beautiful bouquet of flowers Benjamin had surprised you with the night before. It was bright with spring blooms, pink tulips and pure white irises; pale peach miniature roses, striking orchids, and daffodils the color of the bright sunshine. Eucalyptus leaves and tiny blooms of sweet pea and chamomile as fillers, the arrangement was quite fragrant. It was colorful and different; definitely not the typical flower bouquet. 

“I chose them all,” Benjamin had told you just after bursting in the door, the bouquet wrapped in paper, all long stems and pops of color and a kiss in greeting. “Nothing pre-arranged said Y/N.” He offered the bouquet to you, a slight flushing of his cheeks as he did so. “You’re stunning and remarkable and an amalgamation of beautiful things all mixed perfectly.” He nodded to the flowers, tickling your nose with sweet aromas. “They suit you; they're mostly wildflowers.”

Your eyes shone with awe and the threat of tears. The wrapping around Benjamin’s hand-picked array crinkled as you carefully accepted them. “You’ve stolen my words,” you said as you glanced down at the flowers. You’d have time to admire them later, but for the time being you were entirely enamored with Benjamin. “Have I forgotten something? Is today significant?” Your brows knitted together in worry as you searched your mind.

“No,” Benjamin said with a chuckle. “Just a Saturday.” He regarded your face, the top knot you wore your hair in, your old oversized university t-shirt and boxer shorts. “You’ve been working.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Just finished,” you replied with a smile. “Thank you. Let’s get them in a vase, yeah?” You held out the flowers for Benjamin to take, freeing your hands so you could rummage in the cupboards under the sink. 

You climbed out of bed quietly, making an effort trying not to wake Benjamin. After making a cup of tea, you rummaged around making little to no noise until you found what you were looking for. Using your drawing board as a makeshift tray, you piled the remainder of your supplies on top: pastel paper, tape, and your collection of Prismacolor pastels, as well as colored pencils to outline. Your cup of tea was also precariously balanced atop; your mind had been so trained on your task at hand that you hadn’t thought about the clattering of the cup. Thankfully, Benjamin was a fairly heavy sleeper. 

Once back in the bedroom, you smiled at you peeled over at Benjamin, who hadn’t moved a muscle. Carefully, you placed your drawing board on the floor before sitting down beside it, first placing your tea to the side after taking a sip. Your pastels were put to the side, colored pencils placed in your lap, and you tore off four tiny pieces of tape to secure your pastel paper to your drawing board. Smoothing your hand over the paper, you paid attention to the way it felt beneath your palm, the toothy surface of the paper that was akin to the feeling of sandpaper, only finer. 

You gazed up at your bouquet. You'd all but memorized the way they were arranged in the case, which flowers had thicker stems, how bright the yellow of the daffodils were, how saturated the pink petals of the tulips, the shadows the larger blooms cast over the sweet pea and chamomile. Precariously, you opened the tin your pencils were arranged in, squinting your eyes as you regarded the flowers, then peering into your lap. Your pencils were just used for a rough sketching, an outlining of sorts that would be completely obscured by the pastels as you worked. It had been awhile since you’d  been inspired to play with color, the time to mull over saturation and warmth versus cool, to meticulously muck over the stark difference it was to shadow with pastels instead of charcoal. 

Your thoughts regarding color always started and ended with Benjamin’s eyes, the particular deep, warm brown of his irises, the chestnut undertones and flecks of gold within them. They were a color, you thought, that not even legendary artists could get just right. You loved the way they darkened even more with desire, when his mind was full of nothing except all the different ways he could devour you. 

After about five minutes of sketching later, you looked up from your work and over to Benjamin, who was very much awake, just watching you. You’d been so immersed in your work, you’d missed the change in his breathing. He smiled at you, creases forming at the outer corners of his eyes. “Good morning, love. You should come back to bed.”

Benjamin’s smile was contagious. Since the two of you had met, his smile had always drawn out your own; the expression held with it warmth, affection, and sometimes a bit of mischief. Your smile was broken by laughter at Benjamin’s invitation. 

“I’m working,” you said simply, still wearing a residual smile. Repositioning himself, Benjamin propped himself upward over the pillows. He glanced to the array of supplies around you, garnering that you were playing with color, and color had absolutely nothing to do with charcoal. He raised his brows just a shadow, yet you didn’t have to look up to witness it. You knew Benjamin Greene. 

“Congratulations on the new job, Y/N! Now, come back to bed and allow me to congratulate you properly.” And there was that smile, the one with a bit of mischief mixed in. 

Playing as if you were toying with the idea, you glanced longing over at your pastels, untouched as of yet. Without another word, you began clearing your lap of kelly green and sunshine yellow, candy apple red and tangerine orange. The pencils slid easily back into their tin container. You heard the rustling of bedsheets as you turned your back and bent to pile your things back into your old drawing board. 

You righted yourself back upward and stretched toward the ceiling, straightening your spine. You turned back toward the bed, but were captured by a pair of strong arms instead. You hugged Benjamin tight around his middle and your eyelashes fluttered against his bare chest as he placed a lingering kiss to your crown. 

“What are you working on, Ms. Kahlo?” Frieda, is it?” A warm breath of laughter followed the slight tickling of your eyelashes over his skin and Benjamin relished in those small, unconscious touches. He held you for a moment longer until you pulled back to nod toward your bouquet.

“Hand-picked flowers by a bloke called Benjamin… something-or-other. He has a good eye for colour, yeah? His name really should be renowned, the surname, too. Benjamin  is just too common a name, but so is Britney and everyone knows when the name is uttered, exactly who you’re talking about… oh, baby, baby.” 

Your impression left a lot to be desired, but that just added to the level of ridiculously adorable you’d hit without trying, and a loud timbre of laughter bounced off the bedroom walls. “I love you, Y/N.”

Your smirk was completely erased as your jaw dropped and your mind whirled. He...what did he just say? It couldn’t have been— he had never—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sudden beat of silence throughout the house, just as it had been an hour before. He dipped his head in an effort to catch your eyes. You looked up to see his own, much darker ones, filled with worry. 

“That’s… that’s what the flowers were for, Y/N. I had a bit of… something prepared, just a rambling of things that have made me realize over time that…” His hands slid down your arms, around the curving of your hips and waist, down to the small of your back. “But I was late and I could tell you were working. You were beautifully smudged but I wanted you to hear it. To know. It just wasn’t the right time, and—“

“Benjamin.” Your voice was a whisper as your hands rose to gently press against his chest, but firmly enough for his hands to fall from your back as he took a step back. “Y/N, I’m—“

You turned to see the hurt in his eyes, as if his heart had been pulverized. Turning away, your own heart seizing in your chest, you clutched the frayed ends of your old t-shirt, fabric bunching between your fingers as you lifted it up and over your head. Your hair tumbled down and over your shoulders and you bent to rid yourself of the boxer shorts, pushing them down and stepping out of them. Finally, you slipped between the sheets, the cool material sending a pleasant chill over and under your naked body. 

“I think we have another thing to celebrate,” you spoke finally. Your eyes shined, not with tears but absolute awe. Benjamin blinked, one, two, three times as he strode to the opposite side of the bed and crawled in beside you. 

“You don’t—“

“Shhh.” You hushed him by lightly touching your finger to his lips. The man before you was simply exquisite. “I love you, Benjamin Greene. It's been for awhile now.”

Shock passed over his features briefly. Before he could say another word, you took his cheeks in your hands, meeting him halfway for a long, lingering, deep kiss. He smiled against your lips and pulled your body atop his own, skin to skin. Drinking you in with darkened eyes, he kissed along the curve of your shoulder. “Show me how much, Y/N.”

You never finished your sketch.

[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 5 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: None

[jbbuckybarnes]

Distant Connection - 2/11

Pairing: Bucky x Harmonia (OC) Warnings: a bit of angst, a lot of domestic fluff Summary: After an unknown group of goons took her mom’s life and tried to get her for the dark magic powers she possesses, this untaught witch is saved by the Avengers and brought to the compound where her new life unfolds.

MASTERLIST || Distant Connection Masterlist

Harmony was about to see the student area of the Stark Tower for the first time. Tony provided all the kids with wifi, laptops, food, medical help and tutoring there. She overheard it in a few conversations and she really wanted to draw in an environment like this again and also learn more about her witchcraft.

As she walked in she could see a lot of concentrated students sitting on laptops and others sitting together talking. She walked into the little laptop area with all the desks to see Steve sitting there drawing concentrated. There weren’t a lot of students in there and most of them had headphones on so she sat down beside him with a “Looks beautiful.” His head went up and he gave her a soft smile back “Thanks. Still trying to get into all the new markers from this time.” He had drawn a pink Starbucks drink with alcohol markers, the page he was currently working on was a view of a NYC street and he was painting with gouache. “Can I join your little art session?” she asked pulling out a watercolor sketchbook and watercolor from her backpack. “Of course. What’s your art project today?” he asked after finishing another window. “You…...that sounded like I was flirting. I was not. Just need to get better at watercoloring humans.” she chuckled. They both looked down and worked on their little projects for a while. “I heard you called me big energy ball?” he said and couldn’t take himself serious. “Yup, the outside finally fits the mindset.” she giggled with him. “You changed something in James’ mind?” he asked a bit softer about the thing he overheard. “I tried to bring more positive memories in the main focus again. You were doing a lot of dumb shit in the 30s and 40s” she smiled at him because he had stopped to listen to her. “I was...I can’t even lie about the fact that I wasn’t much different back then. A little less mature, but now I’m just that with the actual body fitting to the mind of a tiny human taking on the world alone.” he laughed about himself. “I saw some of the memories. They were hilarious.” she was thankful that it was way easier to talk to him than she expected.

“Can you...do that with me too?” he asked curious. “Yes, but that means I see everything you saved into your long term memory.” she said a little more awkward. “Oh please don’t tell me you saw all of the assassin stuff...please…” he was concerned for her and looking at her frowning. “I did...that was my first try. It was a spontaneous thing.” she went back into shy mode but he pulled her onto his lap to give her a big hug. “Don’t do it with Nat, Sam or Tony. They are good people but that would hurt you more than you could probably take.” he mumbled against her forehead. “Do you still want me to do it?” she looked up at him. “Only if you’re comfortable with it...why does this sound like we’re talking about something different.” he realized all of a sudden and both started laughing. “Something’s still off about the painting.” he said pointing towards it trying to change the subject. “I think you just need to feel out the colors better. Darker gouache tends to dry lighter and lighter gouache tends to dry darker. Should’ve done a color test. But I think you need to correct the glass reflection on the ground floor here a little bit.” she gave him advice still sitting on his lap. “Would you stand up, or?” he gestured at her initial seat. She reseated. “Hmpf, was so comfortable for once,” she said with a fake pout and got a chuckle back.

After correcting his painting in silence he put down his brush and looked over at Harmony doing her second painting which made the first one fully visible to him. “Simple but I can definitely see it’s me.” he said smiling at it. “Just the first layer. Needs another one or two.” she smiled while painting her flower. “You wanna draw something into my notebook?” he asked a little bit more shy. “Like a notebook switch? Sure.” she said finishing her last petal before turning to him and interchanging the notebooks. He grabbed some normal pencils and an eraser before leaning over the next page while she grabbed some of his alcohol markers to start drawing one of the memories she saw in James’ mind of young and small Steve. There was a comfortable silence between them and the only thing audible were the laptops of some of the students around them and the kids laughing outside of the computer room. He made sure she couldn’t see what he drew with his pencils and was way too concentrated to look over at her beautiful 40s painting.

After about 30 minutes both of them finished their drawings almost in sync and looked up at each other. They put both of them between each other and held their breath for a second. “You drew me? Wow. That’s...so detailed.” she said in awe before reading the little note below “for the small energy ball, from the big energy ball ❤” “This is the cutest thing ever.” she said while giving him a hug and he was so concentrated on her liking it that he looked at her drawing just now over her shoulder while breaking the hug again. “You drew me from Bucky’s eyes?” he was in awe, this was a gift so rare that he couldn't grasp it. Seeing through someone else’s eyes was almost impossible but she put it into a drawing. “When I went through his mind this is one of the memories I made clearer for him again. I think it’s very you.” she said soft and with her guard up. “Wow. I remember that day. We got in big trouble for spending all our money on unhealthy stuff but the whole day was so much fun.” he smiled down at his notebook with the most genuine smile in weeks. “You have such an unique bond. I wanted to put that into a drawing.” she said fidgeting with her fingers. “You two also have a very different connection. I’ve never seen him protect someone like that.” he tried to look into her eyes but they stayed on her hands. “I feel like he’s the only person that can relate to how I feel and also keep me save, you know?” she said very vulnerable. He grabbed her hands and made her look up at him, “I might not be able to relate but I would definitely keep you save too.” A weak smile formed on her lips and a slight nod gave him an answer.

“Can I see the rest of your sketchbook?” she ask shyly again and he grabbed it and put it on her lap with a smile. She grabbed it and slowly went from page to page. There were a lot of 40s related paintings but also a lot of new ones. He drew James and Natasha a lot, sometimes the whole team, there was a little sketch with all of them sitting at the kitchen table laughing, a drawing of her and James when they sat in the corner of the common room, food with recipe notes, a page filled with uniform designs, a sketch of Peggy Carter, a watercolor painting of Grand Central Station, two hands holding each other, a bruised Thor and a closeup of his hammer, a street in Brooklyn back in the day. He didn’t seem to use the notebook chronological and just opened a page and started creating. Meanwhile he looked at her notebook. The outside was filled with stickers of potions, black cats and flowers. She was into witchcraft before she knew she was gifted.

There were a lot of watercolor and marker drawings, her mom, the campus of Syracuse University, a stranger in a coffee shop, part of what looked like her room, two people kissing, fashion sketches, crystals and moons, braided hair, two people hugging, a collage of the different parts of her outfit, sneakers, a sketch of the library in the compound, a sketch of James, an unfinished sketch of what happened to her mother, a sketch of sleeping James, a detailed painting of hands doing blue magic, a painting of James with black eyes and a smile, a sketch of the common area, the flower she just painted, the first layer of the painting she made of him and the sketch he made of her. She was very organized in the way she drew. 

She looked at his concentrated face and noticed he finished going through the sketches but showed him the last page of the notebook. There was a big sticker of his shield on the little pocket in the back of the book that held little nicnacs. He looked at her with a smile and a little bit of pride “Was that always there?” he asked. “Yeah.” she said smiling back at him, taking her sketchbook back. The moment was interrupted with a 10th grader coming into the room looking straight at them. “Could you help us with world war stuff? We’ve been sitting here trying to get it into our heads and…” Steve smiled and nodded.

He left his stuff with Harmony which started doodling little things onto another page. A little shield, a bit of magical stuff, hearts, stars, moons, dots and a little note. *Always prefered you over Stark. Thought you wanted to know. Guess I have a soft spot for old grandpa Avengers. -small energy ball* After looking around at the concentrated students she picked up her brush again and started doing the second layer of her painting of him.

“Harmony?” she heard from a computer voice above. “Yeah?” she said a bit weirded out. She still wasn’t used to FRIDAY at all. “Captain Rogers has been called to the compound for a mission and asks if you could bring his belongings with you back to the compound.” the voice asked. “Sure. Tell him to stay safe.” she said with a little smile. “I will make sure to do so, Harmony.” the voice stopped. Once of the students had took his headphones out to listen to the interaction and got a shy smile from Harmony. “You are allowed to take his things with you?” she asked in awe. “I’m just bringing them back where they belong, I guess.” Harmony answered softly. “Can I ask you something?” the girl, probably around 16, asked. “Uuuh, sure.” she smiled. “Is he really as serious as everyone thinks. He seemed to be very childish and funny with you.” she asked with a nervous voice and a shy smile. “Nooo, he is a total dork but he knows when to be serious. If you ever have a problem with anything just ask him. He’s super nice and wants everyone to feel comfortable.” a smile came across the lips of both females. Harmony continued to put his sketchbook and art supplies into her bag, stood up and grabbed a bottle of water and a pack of chips from the food shelves behind her before turning around. “See you around?” she asked the girl and got a smile and a nod back before she walked out of the room and made her way back to the compound.

[gothamdetected-a]

multiverse.

i know what you’re thinking. sim are you absolutely fucking insane, don’t even TRY to tackle this one. you’re right i am insane. and yes i am still going to try and tackle a meta about DC multiverses HOWEVER, to give myself on shred of sanity on this treacherous journey, i will say that this is mainly going to be about the multiverse from a bruce perspective. this ride is a batman focused train i’m afraid. also i want to state that this is by no means a perfect explanation – i’m a) trying to keep it simple and b) still am lost on parts of the timeline myself so. its what i can offer.

ok so, originally NCP, or the national comics publication (who will one day become DC), wrote their golden age heroes on an earth now designated as earth-2. in the 30s, just before the war, comic books absolutely exploded as a media format, and a bunch of companies all jumped the gun on creating superheroes. many of DCs most endearing and recognisable heroes were created all the way back then, however many of them also are not quite who you will recognise as the character today. hal jordan wasn’t green lantern, but was instead a man called alan scott, jay garrick was the flash instead of barry allen etc etc. don’t worry though! batman is still batman, and has been bruce wayne since 1939. earth-2 batman, as he will come to be known, is a bright kind of guy found on technicolour pages with a cute lil robin by his side – there is a reason for this. the war. literally NCP said we cant be sending out dark and gritty comics to people dying in trenches so time to make it colourful and faintly ridiculous, and bruce wayne is a surprisingly optimistic guy for a man who watched his parents be slaughtered in front of him.

of course, by the 60s, NCP (who are also sort of known as NPP and really known by your average joe as superman-dc, based on their most successful comic runs) had realised their timelines were getting a bit squiggly for their golden age heroes, and most of them had been replaced out by their silver age counterparts anyway. so between 1961 and 1963, NCP start creating another “earth”, officially designated earth-1, which would become their main planet for all kinds of superhero shenanigans. the justice society of america becomes the justice league of america, and when you think of batman, you’re probably thinking of earth-1 batman. at least pre crisis. and, once they get taste for building whole new earths, we also get earth-3 (1964), or “opposite world”, where the good guys are bad guys, and batman is owlman and instead of the jla we have the crime syndicate of america.  

so sim, what other earths did dc come up with? well, i literally refuse to list them all because it was a multiverse and they did not slow down, but the ones that are most important to me are earth-5 where the only hero to live on this planet is bruce wayne/batman, and earth-89 where lois marries bruce instead of clark ahAHAHHAA. but i can tell you that pre-crisis there are 91 designated earths, and basically it could have gone on forever. there was an earth-c minus, earth-124.1, an earth where everyone was reptiles, honestly it was a MESS. and therein lies the problem.

now i’ve just used the term “pre-crisis”. what’s that, sim? maybe you’re not very familiar with comics, or with the recent dctv version of said comics, and so i will endeavour to explain one of the most brain numbing storylines that spans DC. also known as a retcon. see all these earths with their own histories and heroes and well everything really was becoming very inconvenient and meant a lot of world jumping and who can interact with who and everything was getting like spaghetti because they couldn’t calm down on the earth-building. so DC (who are officially DC at this point, 1977 babeyy), specifically a guy called marv wolfman (coolest name ever) who was sick of so many earths, comes up with the bright idea that will later form into a comic run called crisis on infinite earths (1985-1986). it was a serious crossover event, really considered by many to be the first of its kind. it sold extremely well, boosting dc’s flagging sales against it’s biggest rival, marvel. and as for the plot, it’s a bit convoluted but essentially some bloke turns up and starts to destroy all these worlds, and it becomes a race between the heroes and villains as to who can save/conquer the remaining earths that are left. although there are crises before and after this specific run, pre-crisis basically always refers to this particular crisis event, as it really shaped DC for the next 30 years.

for a while the retcon does an okay job of keeping the number of earths low. there’s still some earths that are considered non-continuous floating around, but mainly there’s just earth-1, which is now a merger of the most important “earths” that existed pre-crisis, and a way for all of DCs heroes to now be in one place and interact with each other. other earths at this point include;

earth-23 (1986) – a small pocket dimension

earth-17 (1990) – we don’t talk about this. honestly spare yourself and. don’t look. its horrific.

earth-27 (1990) – a historically divergent planet with a hero actually called vegetable man.

earth-85 (1987) – a hodgepodge of post-crisis characters live here, chillin

earth-988 (1990) – superboy is the only hero in this universe

the antimatter universe – all of pre-crisis’ earth-3 villains, including owlman, get shoved here for later use when dc need a couple of villains to come back.

and for a while all is well. then comes DC elseworlds (1989). which. you know. i love. it gave me victorian batman. pirate batman. caveman batman. vampire batman. frankenstein batman. terrorist batman fighting against russian!superman. they even gave me marvel crossovers, with captain america meeting batman. it was a glorious time. technically elseworlds is not considered canon, ran outside of canon as a way for writers to explore those wacky kind of worlds lost to the crisis, which is dumb because some of the plot lines are both hilarious and incredible. but the numbers started to get ridiculous again. most elseworlds are named after the year that the plot takes place in, so we get earth-1889, earth-1938 etc, but even more of them just seem to have random designations. i think by the time they reached earth-5050 they sort of knew that theyd fucked up again. we’ve had zero hour, we’ve got hypertime and kingdom come, and besides, its been a while since they had a good crossover, so by the time 2005 rolls around its time for crisis pt 2 (because dc love to use the word crisis for crossovers) or as it’s officially known infinite crisis. infinite crisis has an even more confusing plot involving a bunch of slightly nuts versions of characters escaping a pocket dimension, earths being created and then merged, and a rogue ai which batman made and then has to destroy because his own creation becomes too powerful etc etc. the only good thing to come out of it was earth-0, or bizarro world, because bizarro & batzarro are my babies. don’t worry though, this new set of earths won’t last long either, as in 2008 DC conclude their trilogy of crises with final crisis that featured one of the most important events in batman’s history – darkseid “killing” him. yes the quotations are important. i’ll leave you to infer what they mean.

so 3 crises later and everything is still just as messy as they’ve ever been and there’s 60 years worth of comic history being tangled about, and marvel had already established a very successful reboot in 2000, and anything marvel do, we can do better, so DC do their first, full and proper reboot. unlike retcons before it, which is where they retroactively try to fix what people already know and simplify timelines & earths, this is like someone shaking the etch-a-sketch and starting fresh. back in infinite crisis an arbitrary number was assigned to how many “earths” there could be – 52. and so in 2011, DC go hey that’s neat and create what becomes known as the new- or nu-52. heroes are given shiny new backstories, everything is streamlined and wonderful, sales rise, DC has a clean slate to build off again.

ha.

yeah that doesn’t happen.

this reboot, also known as flashpoint, due to it being spawned from another big ol’ crossover of the same name, shows barry allen trapped in an alternate universe where everything is not quite right – his mother is alive, superman is nowhere to be found and he doesn’t have his powers. worst of all thomas wayne is batman. yeah, batman’s dad is batman. thanks DC, i hate it. reverse-flash has tried to change history and stop the jla from ever being formed – le gasp. barry goes to fix it, merges three universes together – earth-0, which isn’t a bizarro world but now the “main" earth, also called new earth or prime earth (DC), earth-13 (vertigo) and earth-50 (wildstorm), but also causes 10 years to be “lost” to these characters. there are now 52 brand spanking new earths, each sitting in their own universe as part of the multiverse. no one remembers anything except barry. even for a reboot and convergence of DC’s franchises, it’s messy as fuck. and it goes to shit very very quickly. people don’t really like n-52. DC have cancelled everything, certain characters such as cassandra cain-wayne are fucking ERASED from existence, no one likes the new costume designs, its an absolute shit show and the plots get very confusing very quickly.

so what do DC do?

they reboot again. sigh.

only 5 years after the mess of nu-52, they produce DC rebirth, a new relaunch of all their famous runs. brainiac does some magic and collects a bunch of worlds together and magically we’re all going to forget the last 5 years of comic hell. it is a reboot to retcon flashpoint as though that never happened. yes, DC are actually retconning their own reboots. talk about sweeping it under the carpet. technically “rebirth” only ran for a year as a promotional thing for the reboot, before joining with the larger, now-singular DC universe, however everyone still calls it rebirth because if we don’t give these things names it will get even more fucking confusing than it already is. rebirth also still has 52 universes making up the DC multiverse, just to make things even more simple and easy to understand (DC what is it with 52. why 52.) although lots of the earths in this multiverse have been re-designated – eg. pre-crisis earth-31 was home to an aged batman who fakes his death to go train a bunch of new vigilantes (the dark knight returns), and now 31 is an apocalyptic wasteland or some shite. a lot of these earths were re-designated during the flashpoint/nu-52 era, and even though rebirth was supposed to erase that, DC have decided never mind we’ll keep it. there’s also 7 mysteriously undesignated earths – ooh spooky, they definitely won’t feature in the next major crossover. also for a multiverse with 52 universes, they sure do have more than 52 : there’s the microverse, a bunch of universes collectively called “the sphere of the gods” where apokalips and like, literal heaven & hell exist, an innerverse???, dreamworld, limbo, DC are taking the piss they only said there were 52 earths but that means they can make as many other shitty dimensions and pocket-universes as they please apparently. don’t even get me started on the source wall. for the most part the writers just. don’t acknowledge this and stick to the main prime earth. for the most part. thanks for throwing thomas wayne as batman back into the mix, rebirth.

so that’s the last of it, right sim? eh, almost. it should have been the last of it, really. and then geoff johns couldn't keep his mouth shut and produced possibly the worst comic in recent history, if not ever, doomsday clock. now doomsday clock is a nightmare for an impossibly long list of reasons that i won’t get into here because this isn’t a rant about why i think doomsday clock is the worst thing to ever happen to dc (although that’s a catchy title i should use that some day) - no, the reason i bring up doomsday clock is because. oh my god even saying this makes me sad. doomsday clock proves that the pre-crisis universes still exist and are still out there. somewhere. canonically. sim why is that sad i thought you liked everything pre-52. it’s sad because it means at any point now, DC could bring them back, ruin their own legacy, make everything even more confusing than it already is. i love pre-52 stuff but you gotta leave it alone. currently doomsday clock has only established that these universes exist as a way to honour every era of superman, because DC didn’t want to completly erase some of the incredible work and storylines put into him as a character. fine, fair enough. but it does leave the possibility that they will try and return to them too. comic book writers love doing funky story lines like that. they think they need to write something that’s never been done before and instead of coming up with something actually unique, they just poke around in the multiverse WHICH IS HOW WE ENDED UP WITH THIS AS A PROBLEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

ahem.

hopefully this helped clarify some stuff for people, especially those folks who aren’t big comic fans/expereience dc through the DCEU or DCTV, when encountering rpers who say they base their characterisation off of, for example pre-n52/flashpoint comics, like myself.

oh, and thank you for coming to my ted sim talk.

[raendown]

The next chapter of my Amends to the Dead series, commissioned by the wonderful @birkastan2018 who has been amazingly supporting of my works and provided so much inspiration. 

Pairing: None Word count: 4239 Chapter: 1/4 Rated: T+ Summary: Months after the village is built Izuna is near his breaking point. Peace is nice, don't get him wrong, but he could do without the pale shadow that follows behind him everywhere he goes. All he wants is to understand. What the hell is Tobirama's obsession with watching him?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Chapter 1

Grey clouds and a dreary sky greet him when Izuna leaves the administration tower this afternoon, a dour forecast for the evening’s weather. Determined to keep a positive attitude, he tells himself that at least it is holding off for now, will hopefully keep itself in check until after he finishes his inspection. That massive dream-headed idiot of a Senju wants a wall around their settlement but as much as Izuna freely agrees with the tactical benefits of such a barrier he is glad Madara has managed to talk the man in to waiting rather than just springing something up out of the ground willy-nilly. Although several clans and minor villages have already emigrated to join them there are still others they hope to bring in to the fold as well. If Hashirama grows a wall around them at their current size it will ostracize any new districts built in the future – not to mention that such a short-sighted buffoon will almost definitely forget to leave room for population growth as the years go on.

Hence why Izuna has saddled himself with the boring task of trudging his way around the outskirts to scope out where they can expand, how far, whether some portions of the surrounding terrain should be left available to grow crops, that sort of thing. Trying to keep his thoughts grand scale, the first thing he does is make the long climb up the mountain face overlooking them all. From there he is granted a wonderful view of all they have built so far and all the space they have to build upon in the future. Izuna does his best to sketch what he sees on several different pieces of paper and includes the surrounding terrain as little symbols. Later he can use these sketches to create different proposals for wall construction.

Considering how often he changes his mind he intends to make at least five copies. He only gets halfway through the fourth before his hand freezes in place and his eyes slowly roll to one side, looking around without actually turning his head. It’s a useless endeavor anyway. Even if he turns all the way around and carefully inspects every inch of the space behind him Izuna knows he will see absolutely nothing.

Tobirama is better than that.

Weirder than the fact that his counterpart has been following him around like a lagging shadow for weeks now is the fact that there doesn’t seem to be a reason for it. The man hasn’t even gone to the trouble of suppressing his chakra. Izuna might not be a sensor type like his brother is but he isn’t so chakra-blind that he can’t tell when someone he’s spent years on the other side of a war from is nearby. He might be tempted to think the other man is mocking him somehow if not for the fact that Tobirama never once alludes to his little stalker habit when they are forced to interact in the tower. If anything his habit worsens during work hours. Very few days go by when Izuna does not turn around to find Tobirama hovering over him or staring intently from across the room.

Knowing that his old rival has been up to the same idiocies all day – just as every other day – is not very comforting but it makes his movements a little less awkward as he decides that he’s taken up enough time loitering here at the top of the cliff. It’s odd, the things one can get used to after being exposed for long enough. Having someone follow him around isn’t exactly comfortable but it’s something he learned to live with as soon as he concluded that it isn’t a statement of the Senju’s lack of trust. Not the clan as a whole, at least.

If there were anyone they don’t trust it would be Madara and no one follows him around. Izuna cannot imagine them wasting their best on him while assigning someone lesser to tailing his more dangerous older brother. The Senju have never been a stupid enemy.

Almost worse than the strangeness of knowing that he is being followed is trying to decide how to act. Izuna packs his sketches away and does everything he can to resist the urge to turn around and search for the face he knows is watching, reflecting that he isn’t actually sure what Tobirama will do if he confronts the man. When this first started Izuna hadn’t really known what to think of it, held off on reacting in any way in case he was misinterpreting something, and now that he knows for sure that the other is following him he realizes he’s let it go on for so long that bringing it up now will only be more awkward. They need to talk about it at some point, obviously. Just maybe not right this second.

Using that excuse only gets less and less valid with every day.

With a grand overview of the village fresh in his mind Izuna refocuses himself on the task at hand and begins drafting a few tentative blueprints in his mind while he scales his way back down the cliff. Halfway down he makes a mental note to suggest they install an easier way to get up here somehow. It doesn’t take a genius to guess that any tourists or visitors will be very interested in the view of a village so important to the history of the five great nations, the first of its kind. Then he pushes the thought away in to the corner of his mind for ‘things to deal with later’; he has much more important business at hand. Before they can welcome any tourism they need to be more solid in their defense of the people already here.

Senju Touka stands in the center of the road leading in to their settlement from the north when he arrives. Izuna is quick to hide the grimace that appears as soon as he catches sight of her. Enemies they might not be any longer but Touka is not likely to ever be his favorite person. Too brash, too hard, and too focused on being a warrior without ever allowing herself to still be a woman. Izuna enjoys a tough skin as much as the next shinobi but he needs friends and lovers who allow themselves to unclench at least once in a while. The woman before him carries a look on her face even when making no expression which tells him she probably hasn’t unclenched since the first time she learned to wield her body as a weapon.

“Nothing to report,” Touka’s voice rings out sharp even when she speaks quietly. He nods once to show that he understands.

“Border inspection,” he grunts back.

“Already? With all the paperwork that goes through the Tower I had guessed it would take at least another week for anyone to even think about doing something useful about their own ideas.” She snorts and this time Izuna allows the grimace that slides back over his face.

With a rueful sigh he shakes his head. “I gave myself the job for just that reason. This needs to get done.”

“Lots of things need to get done,” Touka mumbles dryly. Her eyes flick back down the path and her chin dips to signal someone else. “The others can walk the road; if I’m going to guard the wall when it goes up I’d like to hear your thoughts on where it’s to be built.”

Since there is really no polite way to refuse her Izuna shrugs and turns away without waiting to see if she follows. If she can’t keep up that’s her own problem. He isn’t the one who invited her along. Just as he finishes the thought her footsteps come from behind and her severe face returns to his peripherals with the blank expression of someone waiting to form an opinion.

That gives him an idea, actually, speaking of opinions. As the two of them travel in silence he lets his eyes roam around the terrain on all sides, mentally comparing it to the visual he remembers from above even as another part of his mind races trying to find the wording for how to broach a subject that many still consider sensitive.

“If I may, I’d like to ask about the climate in your clan,” he says eventually. Touka gives no physical reaction, betrayed only by the caution in her tone as she replies.

“You may ask your questions.” He notices that she has promised him no answers.

“Tensions were high for a while after we first merged our territories. Obviously it’s going to take a number of years before our people can coexist with true ease but – for my own clan at least – I’ve noticed massive improvements. What I mean to ask is: what of your own clan?”

“What of them?” Touka grunts.

Careful not to show his temper, Izuna keeps his voice low so it will not carry to other ears following along behind them. “Have the tensions eased in your people? Or do they still fear mine like enemies?”

“Fear isn’t exactly how I would describe it,” his unwanted companion muses. “Caution would be more accurate.”

“Do they distrust us so much?” he presses.

To his utter lack of surprise Touka turns to give him a sharp warning look. “Don’t go looking for trouble where there is none, Uchiha. Our people distrust yours no less than yours return in kind. Like you said yourself, it’s going to take years to erase the effects leftover from generations of war. Those of us who lived through it may never recover entirely. But”-from the corner of one eye he watches her move both hands away from her weapons in a deliberate motion-“we recognize and accept that the Uchiha want this peace to work. “

“Ah. Thank you for your input, Touka-san. I had thought that was how things stand but at this stage assumptions aren’t safe to be relied upon. Let’s change the subject. We’re thinking of building out from the current settlement to allow for growth but I don’t think this particular area would be good for that. Doesn’t the ground here turn in to swamp a few miles out?”

While she does allow him to change topics without comment Izuna notes the lingering gaze from the corner of her eyes to the corners of his own. He lets her stare. If they truly are allies then he has nothing to fear from a couple of eyes that don’t even have the advantage of a Sharingan. Rumor says this woman is nearly as good with genjutsu as any Uchiha but it would need to be some kind of skill indeed to trap him in an illusion he can’t escape – and besides that there is really no reason for her to do any such thing unless she wants to start another war.

Instead the two of them trade mild opinions on the surrounding land and discuss construction plans all while pretending they don’t notice the acid undertones or the barbs hidden in their words. Much as he is loathe to admit it, by the time they make a half circuit around the village and Touka declares it time for her to turn back he almost finds himself reluctant to see her go. Almost. Sometimes it’s nice to find someone who can withstand the worst of his vitriol. He is still firm on his belief that Touka will never be one of his favorite people but perhaps they can stand each other a little better than he first imagined.

The rest of his patrol around the perimeter is done in silence with no one to talk to but the thoughts inside his own mind, probably the most intelligent conversation he is likely to have all day. Rather than give that Senju woman any reason to look at him funny again Izuna ends his inspection by ducking in between some of the housing built on the fringes like afterthoughts.

He could have done without some of the man’s habits and opinions but if there is one thing Izuna wishes their brothers had actually listened to Tobirama about it’s the road planning. Caught up in their dream as they had been, Madara hadn’t so much held Hashirama back as he had egged the man on to raise frames and rooves without a single thought for the carefully drawn street maps Tobirama had been trying to present them with. Now everyone else pays the price for it as they wind their way through crisscrossing streets that often follow no logical direction whatsoever, haring off towards wherever Hashirama had raised the next home. Surely it can only be the mercy of the kami that made him finally stop and listen to his sibling before he made a similar mess of the village center.

Finding his way through the busy foot traffic is infinitely easier once he reaching the districts where the streets are wider than his own wingspan, leaving plenty of room for Izuna to duck and weave around the gaggle of children chasing each other, wild laughter ringing over the crowds with no regard for the different clans they each belong to.

This, he has come to understand, is the peace that Madara has been dreaming of since they were young boys clinging to each other with all their strength, the last of their siblings and so desperate not to lose any more. In some ways he wishes he had understood earlier. He also hopes that the idiot following along behind him on a nearby rooftop understands the same.

When he reaches the tower Izuna heads straight for his office and rather pointedly shuts the door behind him, relieved to note Tobirama’s distinctive chakra moving off to hopefully be productive somewhere else. How the man gets anything done when he’s following other people around all day is a mystery but Izuna is just as glad to finally be alone. It’s much easier to concentrate on drawing up a few difference proposals for wall construction when he doesn’t have some part of his concentration occupied with the ever-watching eyes over his shoulder.

Unfortunately for all that he’s always been fast at coming up with plans he is also, given the time, a perfectionist. What should only take him a mere twenty minutes to sketch some rough blueprints turns in to nearly two hours of meticulous lines and painstaking notes along the edges of every paper to list the benefits of each different proposal. Izuna is already rolling his eyes at himself by the time he finally drags his body up out of the chair with a firm mental declaration that any further additions will be a waste of time. Only one of these proposals can be chosen as the final plan and the entire council will be looking over it to add their suggestions. No one expects him to think of everything himself.

Seeing Madara roll his eyes as well when he lets himself in to his brother’s office makes him stick out his tongue, a gesture the man returns without pause. Dignity isn’t exactly a concern when they are alone.

“Took you long enough,” is his greeting. “Didn’t you leave to do that just after noon? It shouldn’t have taken you that long just to walk in a big circle and doodle a couple outlines. What did you do, take a nap in a tree somewhere?” Madara tuts and shakes the handle of a brush at him, then he frowns and looks down at the parchment he’s just splattered with ink.

“Pardon me for doing my job well,” Izuna grumbles.

“Well give them here then. Looks like you have several ideas. That’s good, actually. I know it sounds counterintuitive but the bloody elders actually decide faster if we give them more options.”

The two of them share a tired look and Izuna nods understandingly as he tosses his papers on the desk. “Fewer options always means one person picks a favorite right away and another person takes exception to that. Best to let them talk it all out first, I get it.”

Madara spreads the sketches out and fiddles with the end of one, lifting it only to turn his eyes to another.

“Do you have any you’re particularly attached to before I look them over?” he asks.

“No.”

He should know to watch his tone. It’s only a single word but the moment it leaves his mouth Izuna winces, pinned in place under the sudden scrutiny of dark eyes that know him just a little too well.

“You sound upset by something,” Madara notes. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say wrong, precisely. I’m being followed around again and I still don’t like it.” It’s gratifying to see the other man scrunch his face up with distaste. At least he isn’t the only one who finds this situation endlessly odd.

“Still not talking to you about it, I suppose?”

“Not a damn word. Any time I bring it up he just stares at me with these…empty eyes. Honestly sometimes I’m tempted to worry that he’s been possessed by some demon with a grudge against me. Somehow that would make more sense!” Izuna shakes his head, stepping around to slump his body in to the single visitor chair available. Then he squirms uncomfortably as a floral scent wafts up his nose. It’s easy to tell who usually sits in this chair.

Fingers twiddling absently at the edges of the papers spread out on his desk, Madara rolls his eyes at such dramatics but makes no comment on them, which Izuna takes to mean that his sibling agrees in his own way. He wishes he could say he is only being silly and dramatic but deep down he truly believes that Tobirama being possessed by a vengeful spirit would make more sense than for the man to follow him around as though suspicious of his intentions. Still ridiculous, of course, but somehow more plausible.

He hadn’t been stupid enough to believe Hashirama's vague words about recovery during the first few meetings of peace between their people. The longer time went on without the Senju second heir appearing the less anyone had been willing to believe such nonsense but it was the look in Hashirama's eyes which stilled their tongues as the months stretched out in to a full year. Not anger or exasperation, no nervousness that they might be taking offense. What earned their silence both then and now had been the worry in his eyes, the fear for another which he tried so desperately not to let them see, the flash of uncertain terror that shadowed his eyes with every mention of his brother. Izuna has seen that look in the eyes of those who worry for their loved ones even when there is no wound to worry over.

“And he’s not…aggressive?” Madara asks.

“No!” Izuna throws his hands in the air and slumps further in his seat. “At least if he was angry or something I would understand that but this silence and following me around, it’s just weird! I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to it.”

“You could, oh I don’t know, ask him to stop?”

With the bitchiest look he can summon Izuna nods exaggeratedly. “Oh of course, why didn’t I think of that? Ah right. Because I did. And all that accomplished was a big fat load of nothing.”

“There’s no need to be so sarcastic,” his brother grumbles. When Madara turns away to pout Izuna rubs at the space between his brows.

“Do you have any idea what his problem is? Serious question, any idea at all? Has your best friend for life not said anything or dropped any hints? I’m at my wits end here.” What small hope he has is dashed by the shaking of the other man’s head.

Madara shrugs as he says, “Not a clue. It’s weird but Hashirama doesn’t actually talk about his brother very much.”

“You mean they don’t like each other?”

“No, not like that. But every time Tobirama comes up in conversation, if it’s not work related Hashirama will get this really weird look on his face and change the subject. Usually in such a way that I don’t think about it till later. You know how he is, all loud and distracting.”

“He’s certainly not as dumb as he pretends to be,” Izuna agrees.

The two of them sit in silence for a minute or two, thinking of the all the unexpected similarities between the Senju siblings and all the ways they’re still so different. For all that they are both unexpectedly intelligent it seems to be only in their own respective fields. Where Tobirama’s intelligence is nearly unparalleled when it comes to science and political machinations he seems to be quite useless when it comes to human interactions and yet that is where Hashirama shines – earnest Hashirama who can only stare with a blank smile whenever his beloved sibling goes off on some in-depth explanation of a new tax code proposal.

Shaking his head to clear it, Izuna takes a deep breath and decides that sitting around moaning about his own confusion isn’t getting much done. There are still other things he needs to do that day and he can’t do anything of them while staring across the desk at Madara.

Leaving the man to his work is as easy as reminding him that he has a lot of it and suddenly Izuna finds there is no more attention on him, the perfect time to slip out the door and wander slowly back to his own office. It is only his perfectionist nature which leads him to hearing what he does then. Were he anyone else he might shrug it off when he notices the wrappings around his left ankle coming loose, something that can certainly wait until he sits down to be fixed, but he stops instead and leans against the wall just before a turn in the corridor to bend down and fiddle with his ankle. Not until he is already busy unwrapping and retucking does he realize he is in the perfect spot to overhear two people just around the corner.

“Tetsuo thinks maybe they’re having an affair of some kind,” the first voice says, full of scorn for their own words.

“Ridiculous. That icicle and Izuna-sama? Not a chance. They were rivals for years, they’re not going to fall in to bed only a few months after peace was made!” The second voice sounds vaguely familiar, probably a member of his own clan though he can’t quite identify them.

“I never said I believed it!” the first objects. “But it’s weird, right? The way Tobirama-sama just…hovers around him. If they weren’t enemies for years I would say he’s acting like a nervous parent or something with how he watches Izuna-sama’s every move and how he glares at anyone who says something bad about the man.”

To Izuna’s annoyance his possible clan member feels the need to waste time defending his honor with a sharp, “Who’s saying bad things about him?”

“Oh for kami’s sake, that’s not the point.”

“Hmph.”

“But you get what I’m saying, yeah? I know Tetsuo think they’re rolling around together but my theory is a blood oath or something. Maybe Hashirama-sama set him this duty as penance. I heard one of them almost died in the final battle between your clans and everyone knows Tobirama-sama is too fast to go down easy.”

Much as it hurts Izuna’s pride a little to have someone believe him the weaker in any battle, he forces himself to remain still and continue listening. It takes a moment for his prideful clansman to get past the spluttering and rage over the same issue but eventually it fades in to senseless grumbling and a solid declaration that Tobirama was in fact been the one injured during their final clash. Clearly this person hadn’t been present or else they might not so casually reference that moment.

Very few had known how to process the sight of an elder version of his rival appearing only to turn and slaughter his own younger self.

As the two strangers continue to speculate Izuna swallows thickly and turns away to take another route back to his office, finding suddenly that listening in on a conversation he isn’t supposed to hear has lost its appeal. More than ever his curiosity has been peaked, however. He needs to figure this situation out.

Why does Tobirama follow him?

That will have to be dealt with on his own time, however. Later he will pass on what he heard to his brother and they can speculate to their hearts’ content over dinner. For now he has work to do. Work that, so long as he remains shut away within his own office, he can trust that he will be able to do in the silence of solitary.

Only when the work is done will he turn his mind to the problems that he has already let go too far. Surely one more day of ignoring it all cannot hurt anything. He’ll deal with it eventually, of course, but until then Izuna supposes he can hope that ignoring his problems might, by some miracle, simply make them go away.

[fuse2dx]

August ‘20

Ruiner

Ruiner frames its action at an isometric tilt. There’s a lot of red; in the game’s interface, as the prominent colour of the neon lighting that adorns its stages, and in the blood that is frequently spilled. Its cyberpunk setting isn’t anything particularly new, but as a unifying aesthetic, the glitchy effects, and out-there personalities doing their best to cope in a dystopia do well to build a convincing and intriguing world. Stages are action packed and throb with electronic noise and big loud industrial bass hits, with the play being akin to an arena shooter; enemies surging at you in bite size, minute-at-a-time waves, with each of these closing out with a grading screen serving as the pat on the back to keep that dopamine rhythm pulsing. It’s a pretty hypnotic cocktail.

These stages evolve out of a singular hub city, and while it’s not particularly big, there’s just the right level of hubbub, and it has a lovely Hirusawa Susumu track acting as an excellent, melancholic mood-setter. Based on the size of its world and the the quick-fire action being split between a very small number of stages, it’s not surprising to say it’s fairly brief - I mean, how could it get so big? But what is important is that it’s plenty of fun and and has style by the bucketload. I got a good kick out of it.

Carrion

On one hand, a horror game where you play the horror is just the kind of flip on a genre that’s needed to freshen things up a bit. On the other, it’s one straight out of the spoof ‘Peter Molydeux’ playbook. What a carri-on.

... I’m sorry. After your initial escape from a lab, Carrion centres around a hub world, with individual stages then breaking off to allow for more specific themed stages. What you’re trying to do within these is to spread your big, goopy self around, where certain spots will act as save points but also count toward unlocking an alternative path back to the hub and opening up new routes in the process. What’s unique to this particular metroidvania take is that while there are new skills that open up new routes, your movement in general is uniquely freeform - point in a direction and off you go, free of any worries about platforming and the gravity that’d otherwise bind you. While it may not be the most precise movement given the size to which you grow - and boy does this become a point during some forms of combat - it does remain responsive, and quite fun to simply shamble about like a giant congealed blob of bloody, multi-toothed sinew-y mess. Everything scales up nicely on both sides of the fighting, with distraught pistol-equipped humans turning to shielded folks with flamethrowers, all the way up to drones and mechs that are just as mobile and / or deadly as yourself, even in spite of your own upgrades that allow for more ranged, varied, and sharper extremities. It’s not especially long, and is never so taxing as to demand too much expertise of you, but it is fun and importantly, quite unlike anything else out there.

Yoku’s Island Express

Pinball continues to feel like a lost art form to me, with the nuance of skilled play being more like a foreign language than another type of game you can easily pick up. Yoku, newly-appointed postmaster, is but a tiny little bug, and as such is indebted to these skills in his efforts to travel and clamber about an environment much larger than he. Flippers are casually littered about to shoot you from one area to the next, but there’s also plenty of sections you’re led to by the story that are small yet just detailed enough to play like a neatly sectioned off area of a complete table - complete with requirements for precise shots to move forward, and those inevitable moments where you have to sit back and watch as your ball falls with miserable, exacting precision between the flippers. Failure typically sets you back a few pickups, but given these are just as quickly re-earned, you’re never punished too hard - there’s certainly no three strikes and out mentality here. It’s a very friendly interpretation of pinball’s mechanics, and there’s a decent enough story layered on top, with its characters and art demonstrating enough pleasant charm that you can definitely see this being a great way to introduce pinball to a younger audience. That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable from an older player’s point of view - just that you know what’s being presented is a wisely palatable version of a classic hobby, rather than the arse-kicking ordeal you may be used to. 

Rime

I am certain that Rime would love me to compare it to a certain Fumito Ueda PS2 game. There’s the ultra-minimal scene that’s set as a boy washes up on an island; a sparse, beautiful, somewhat Mediterranean set of landscapes, and with very few ways to interact with it all that don’t involve clambering over things or shouting out in wordless desperation. But as you’ll have noted, I haven’t found it in myself to justify using that game’s name here. 

As much as I wanted to give this a chance, it often felt directionless, uninspired, and at worst, slow and tedious. The puzzles are derivative of any number of games I’ve played before, and the biggest danger is that you might assume as to their difficulty and over-engineer your approach, rather than not be able to tackle them. The platforming is simplistic and regularly drawn out with ledges, ledges, and more ledges to climb across and dangle from; even if you were to find a way to fall to your doom, as is tempting, it is unlikely to take you back much further than a few seconds. Crucially, there’s really very little to sink your teeth into on any front, and even when the game does finally start to weave some plot threads into the game’s canvas, it’s well into the latter half - long after I’d already racked my brains for any hint of an allegory that’d fit, and given up on expecting one. Sadly, to the point that the actual story felt like a cheap afterthought when it did finally start to unravel. This bounced off me much harder than I’d expected - I came away wishing it had forged a bit more of an identity and a purpose rather than just an aesthetic strung together with some weak elements of play. 

If Found

As far as interactive elements in visual novel-type games go, If Found has a different approach to most. The story’s primarily told by means of a diary - one that’s full of witty observations, personal reflections and enigmatic sketches - that you actively erase as a means to push events along. The diary belongs to Kasio, a trans girl returning to their small Irish hometown after a stint away at university in the city; a return that’s not met in the warmest or most understanding fashion. As a mechanic, the erasure of this diary is loaded with meaning; peeling back layers of a scene often matches a more poignant set of observations, and the scrubbing of such personal details away offers a painful reflection on an identity being chipped away at. It’s very much a story about finding one’s self, about coming of age, and as it rides these highs and lows it does an excellent job in making you ride along these alongside the characters, and it does one hell of a job to make you think about the compassion that you both see and offer in the world outside. I’ll put my hands up and say that there are some elements of the story running in parallel to this main one that didn’t gel with me quite so well, but this is a minor footnote to an otherwise highly enjoyable play through. In a short space of time, Annapurna have done a great job in winning me over with their publishing choices - particularly in holding up the kinds of voices and ideas that fit these smaller titles so perfectly. 

Double Kick Heroes

It’s a rhythm game. I like rhythm games! It’s about a zombie apocalypse. Oh no. It’s... a heavy metal rhythm game? Ok, maybe we can work with this.

After a trailer name dropping a bunch of familiar artists - Jinjer, Carpenter Brut, Gojira - what surprised me straight off was that none of these licensed artists featured in the game’s story mode. They’re all sectioned off in a separate menu, and while on the bright side they’ve each given a unique stage with a visual theming in keeping with the bands in question, it feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. Instead, all tracks throughout the story were composed by just one person, and with only a small handful of featured musicians being included to diversify things. It starts with more (arguably) palatable hard rock numbers, but goes up to and includes grindcore, death metal, black metal and the like, meaning that not only is it going to put a lot of folks off right away, but that it’s asking a heck of a lot for one composer to cover all of these sub-genres with the appropriate care. While it was refreshing to hear some types of music I’d normally not expect to hear in a game, some tracks inevitably grated, and while I enjoyed some others, I wasn’t ever bowled over too strongly either.

The story itself is fairly by the numbers. It sees an on-tour band fighting back against a zombie uprising, and has unsubtle references to any number of heavy artists, albums and songs shoe-horned in at every opportunity. It also bears the hallmarks of its dialogue being written by someone that has a very particular sense of humour which personally all fell very flat. While the team undoubtably do love music, the over-enthusiastic style rubbed me in a similarly uncomfortable fashion as Jack Black does regularly, with his half-comedian, half-musician schtick. The gameplay itself is based around the drum parts of its songs also corresponding to different weaponry on your car that holds the hordes back, and while this on its own can prove tricky, higher difficulties also mounts other expectations - like steering your vehicle, or alternating pedals to shoot different parts of the screen. Some of my frustration with all of this is likely my own fault for having chosen to play on the ‘Hard’ difficulty, but traditional wisdom feels a little bit lost when you can still get damaged when your combo meter is racked up well into triple digits.

In all, Double Kick Heroes presented some pretty unique gaming scenarios; like having to work out the best controller configuration to play blast beats with, or asking out loud “did I just hear the words ‘we are Genital Absolution’ coming from a Nintendo console?”, and it’s clearly a small team working on something they really care about. I respect that. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I was hoping, but I hope they’re proud of what they’ve created.

Manifold Garden

A puzzle game taking significant inspiration from the works of M.C. Escher is a pretty good starting point in my eyes. It being presented in a wonderful manner certainly doesn’t harm either; from the UI all the way into the game, it’s beautifully clean and defined, opting for delicate shading rather than messy textures, and with its intricate, recursive geometric patterns, you’ll likely find cause to stop and take stock on a regular basis.

One button looks after your basic interactions with the world (pushing, picking up, and so on), with your other crucial way of interacting with the world being the ability to approach a surface and then assign it as ‘the new down’ - spinning everything about an axis, planting your feet to it, and changing your perspective on everything. There’s a nice steady introduction of puzzle pieces as you ease your way in, but they all stem gracefully from these simple mechanics. That I - not the world’s greatest puzzle gamer - was able to enjoy this without every getting too stuck may hint at it perhaps not being as complex as some puzzle fiends might desire, however this amounted to me coming out the other side with great waves of satisfaction, and nought but positives to say. I would go so far as to say that it’s the most fun I’ve had playing a puzzle game in a long, long time, and to boot it’s also perhaps the game where I’ve used the screenshot button the most copiously. Wonderful stuff.

[titanic-ente]

[ID: A roughly shaded pencil drawing of a baby dragon munching on a slipper they are clutching between their feet. The Dragon looks at the viewer beseechingly with big round eyes with big vaguely heart-shaped pupils.

End ID]

I had the spontaneous urge to draw this little fellow and well... on of my sketchbooks was lying more or less in arms reach, so...

As happens quite often, I started with the head (and the action) with a very vague idea of how I want to place the rest of the body and it ended not quite fitting the page (part of a wing and the end of the tail are out of the picture in the left bottom corner, while there is a lot of blank space in the upper right corner).

This is a reconstruction of how this picture started (I began taking photos to document my chaotic progress only after a while):

[ID: a vague oval in circle form for the head with two big circles as eyes. The left one is bigger than the right one. The eye circles have big round hearts drawn in and over them. The slipper is implied with two big ovals. End ID]

Here is the series of photos I took of my progress:

[ID: A roughly drawn and shaded slipper is in the jaws of an already rather detailed (with horns and scales) dragon baby's head with big round white empty eyes. One forehand and the claws holding the slipper are also already sketched. End ID]

[ID: The slipper got more shading and a bunch of scratchy lines now imply the torso, hindlegs and the curve of one wing. The Artist hasn't reached the edge of the paper yet. But the emphasis is on YET, because it is a close thing. End ID]

[ID: An Eraser was used to give the head and slipper some highlights. The torso and hindlegs became more defined, with the claws of one paw curling loosely and the other one hidden behind the slipper. The first wing (half folded and curled around the baby dragon) has been roughly drawn as far as the suddenly encroaching left edge of the page allows. End ID]

[ID: The torso, wing and legs got some smudgy shading (aka I smeared the graphite with my fingertip). The amount of graphite fingerprints and smudges all over the blank parts of the paper has been steadily growing and there is now an not insignificant amount of them in the bottom right corner. Also a tail has been added.

It begins somewhere behind the curled hindleg, half hidden behind the end of the (still single) wing, curls a bit to the torso and then decides it rather wants to leave the picture at the bottom of the page.

End ID]

[ID: The shading on the wing and torso has deepened. The wing bones now end in a tiny claw. The jawline has been reworked from wavy lines and now has some tiny spikes and some scales. Also I forgot to mention the photos have been taken in the stark lighting of a directed desk lamp, on a red-orange blanket. End ID]

[ID: The torso and hindlegs got more refined, with even deeper shades, implied scales and actual toes instead of vague shapes. There are even smudges of graphite to imply the sinews at the back of the paw!

The background has changed. Its hard to see but its the stuff I am actually supposed to do (some pens, a printed and bound script the sketchbook is lying on and behind that the top of a paper of handwritten notes with an equation on it).

End ID]

Yes I am very proud how that paw came out. Not the other one though.

The second wing has been finally added (as not yet shaded rough lines, but still).

Progress on the wing, the tail got shading and the head some more shades, mostly between horns and the bone ridge over the eyes, emphasising (I hope at least) the expression.

Also I reached the end of the picture limit. Meh. This is supposed to be a documentation of my work progress.