#but it looked odd when i cropped the sketch to include it

[maravalenr]

Miku <3

[heck-theo]

Okokokokok- ignore how rough and messy some of these redraws/sketches are - but it's apparently also dinosaur month?? (WHY did no one ever tell me it's Jurassic June? I love dinosaurs) And like. What if Rise but dinosaurs?!

I don't often post such loose sketches but I wanted to show these off cause I really like some of this.

Design choices and dino species + the reasons I picked them bellow (looking for potential Donnie dino suggestions):

Clothes: Without the shell they really need clothes. They'd all have pretty much the same pants to keep some unity, except maybe Mikey (I decided they should all have the same pants after I finished the Mikey sketches, not sure if I'll keep the shorts or change to pants). Accessories are a mix of pre and post finale.

Raph - I think would keep it simple and practical but would also wear nice jackets and stuff when in casual situations. I need to work on giving him an alternative outfit and tweak his accessories a bit.

Donnie - An oversized pull-over hoodie cause we already know he loves that shit. We see him wearing it all the time. Easy enough. He wears a comfortable singlet underneath so the straps of his battle sail don't rub. Nice soft fabric, tight fit so it doesn't move around, tucks it into his pants, etc. When he wears the battle sail he won't overheat so he can wear hoodies basically all year round.

Leo - He's in one of those shirts with obnoxiously large arm holes and make it cropped cause 1. I think he would 2. I want it to be different from Raph and Donnie's singlets. He usually wears the shoulder strap off his shoulder but pulls it up when he needs to. He has some of the black bandages over his mid drift atm but I might just make his pants super high waisted in the final version. He'd probably wear a bomber jacket (also cropped?) over the top for cool weather, but doesn't like to hide his feathers.

Mikey - I think he'd mostly wear hand me downs when he's younger. He definitely goes through a stage of rebelling and wanting to pick his own and would find a middle ground of appreciating sharing some of his brother's clothes and modifying them, as long as he has the choice of his own available. Not sure if that would be before or after this design. At the moment he's got Raph's old shorts (from a loooong time ago), Leo's old shirt, and Donnie's old zip up hoodie. He does have his own accessories though, including pins instead of stickers.

Dinosaurs: I kept them all as non-avian dinosaurs, AKA not including animals that are colloquially considered dinos but aren't (like pterosaurs). I wanted to keep an even split of herbivore vs carnivore just so one wasn't the odd one out. I wanted to keep most of their body structure, colours and distinguishing features the same as canon. Obviously I added tails cause, yeah, of course haha. I did want them to be recognisable as different species of dino using distinct characteristics that their species is known for. I did ignore a lot of differences though, like size and bipedal vs quadruped (although the quadrupeds might be more likely to go to all fours, especially when fighting or afraid). Leo and Donnie are carnivores so have sharper teeth and claws.

Raph - Some kind of Ceratopsian (likely Triceratops or something very similar) and he was the first idea I had for this and I'm really happy with it. I think it just suits him. Trike Raph just came to me in an unprecedented moment of genius. His spikey frill replicates his spikey shell. His sturdiness, protectiveness and willingness to kick ass when needed, all scream trike to me.

Donnie - Spinosaurus but looking for other species recommendations. More details below: So I wanted to figure out a way for him to have tech with a similar function to his battle shell (in the sense that it's something that helped him in day to day life) and so I went with spino cause one possible theory about a function of spinosaurus' sail is temperature regulation. So his battle sail has heating/cooling systems as well as other tech. A spino's sail was probably not fragile but the battle sail would also help protect it from being targeted during fights or crushed during extreme impacts. It was also thought to be used for display, and what's more of a display than a battle sail? The only problem I have with this is that it's lacking part of what makes Donnie's battle shell so great, which is that it is essentially a prosthetic. Not quite the same as how prosthetics are used in people of course, just in the sense that it is replicating the functionality of a body part that he doesn't have (I can't think of a better word). Well he does have a shell but it doesn't function in the same way that his brothers shells do, which leaves him with less defense than they have, hence a big reason for the battle shell (I hope I explained this well, it was hard to try and word properly). I can't think of a good way to do this with dinos. I was thinking of a carno or something with tiny arms, then Donnie could have tech enhanced arms but I'm pretty much ignoring body structure in the others so it would be weird to have just Donnie be affected by a difference in limb structure/functionality. I was thinking prosthetic tail but every non avian dinosaur had a pretty substantial tail. Except therizinosaurus but even they hade pretty obvious tails. I'm open to suggestions for this one if anyone has ideas. It does have to be an extinct non-avian dinosaur (anything not in Avialae), preferably carnivore but if someone suggests a really good herbivore or omnivore then I can try and swap Mikey for a carnivore. I want there to be an even split. I also wanted to give him something different on his face, like his brothers, and that could only be a little spino crest and it crowds the top of his head but I can't put it anywhere else...

Leo - A type of Dromaeosaur. I was tossing up between this and a dilophosaur where his red stripes were part of the dilo's crest, cause I wasn't sure about giving him feathers. But dilo Leo was so plain compared to the rest and the crests were hard to get looking right so I went back to raptor Leo. I can definitely imagine him literally and metaphorically preening his feathers too. You can't really see it but he does also have that big raptor claw. Raptors were smart, tactical and worked in packs so I think that suits him. I wasn't specifically referencing how some artists draw Leo's stripes coming off his face (I was just trying to replicate his stripes somehow, even though it doesn't make a huge amount of sense) but I realised afterwards that it kinda looks like that and might have been subconsciously inspired by it.

Mikey - Is an Ankylosaur. I'm pretty happy with the species but I need to work out the design of his armour plating so that it looks interesting, cool and protective but isn't too chunky, too pointy or super lumpy looking. I went with an anky cause Mikey is often hiding in his shell and he can't do the same here but he could curl up in a defensive ball. Plus I could imagine him using his tail club in his razzmatazz fighting style. A little like his kusari-fundo or nunchacku/nunchucks (not sure on proper wording).

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

My whole renewed dive into trying to save all the John Oliver files I can get my hands on, which within a week escalated to me buying a new 1TB hard drive just to see how big a John Oliver folder I can make, started when it was noticed that this video was taken off YouTube:

I was glad I’d saved a copy of it, because I don’t trust anything to stay anywhere on the internet, if there’s something I like I immediately put it on my hard drive so it can’t disappear. I'm making this post mainly for anyone else who might not have saved this before YouTube took it down, here's where you can download it. Because no one should be denied the really fucking weird 25 minutes with baby comedians from 1997.

A few years ago I read this quote from Richard Ayoade, which I annoyingly can't find now, where he said he doesn't like this documentary, that they were just students and obviously didn't know what they were doing and some film people came in and said they wouldn't look bad in it but of course they do look bad. It was something like that, I can't find the exact quote. But I remember finding it odd, because surely no one is judging these people's actual comedic skill based on a few clips from a 25-minute video of when they were students. People just share it because it's funny to adorable little baby versions of the comedians who are famous now. Obviously they weren't doing high-quality comedy, they were like 19, no one cares.

Since then, I have learned that this is not quite true, and Richard Ayoade did, in fact, have reason to object to his weird student sketches being out there. Because apparently, some people are judging their comedic skill based on the time in 1997 when he and John Oliver did a weird sketch on a fence. My deep rabbit hole dives of about 18 months ago led me through a lot of old comedy message board threads, including one from 2006 of people absolutely ripping that video apart as a sign that comedy is well past its peak and this newfangled crop of comedians are all shit and the once-great institution of Cambridge Footlights has fallen. By 2006.

I normally don't link to things things directly from a message board on here, seems too close to that horrible thing where you take screenshots from one social media and post it on a different social media to make fun of it (so instead, I just occasionally see something I disagree with on a message board, and then write a post on here refuting it without posting the original context, to people who don't know what I'm talking about), but it feels more acceptable if it was from 2006, I think. It's not like the person who posted that in 2006 is likely to still be hanging around Britcom social media seeing who's quoting them. So I think... I think I need to quote just a little bit of it, because there was this one really long aggressive rant from this one 2006 post that was the funniest fucking thing (I won't like but it's not hard to find on Google):

I mean, I can't really communicate how bad it was, to be honest. But it was just the fact that you saw the two cunts writing the thing, sitting in a daylight-filled bar, giggling into their lager. You got the picture? Ugh. And John Oliver, who is the spitting image of David Baddiel (intentionally of course), is there with his pencil and notepad suggesting the lines with a grandiose smugness that made me really ill, and his mate (the blandest man ever) is there, with his jumper and his shoes, salivating over the comic genius he sees before him. Cunt, cunt, CUNT! They also have three girl-ones with them, all of whom have no talent whatsoever. You see one of them auditioning, where she has to do some improv, and she's shit... but the president (who looks like a fifteen year-old John Lloyd) can be heard wheezily guffawing at everything she says. And this serves only to make her improv even worse. And John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair.

That is, in case anyone's wondering, why my current Tumblr bio ends with the line: "John Oliver is the worst. Or the one that got to me the most. With his hair." It's a quote from a guy in 2006 who was really really mad about a 25-minute Footlights documentary.

So I would like to state, for the record, that by sharing this video, I am not endorsing the actual quality of the comedy in the few little sketches we see. I am also not endorsing the class system, the hold that a few elite institutions have over entire industries, Richard Ayoade's views on transgender people, or trivia in pubs. I just think they're adorable baby comedians as well as an interesting snapshot of comedy history. I'm pretty sure that's all it's supposed to be.

I am also not endorsing the class-based dominance of elite institutions when I say I still want that sitcom between two student comedians, Kim Tey and Wark Atson, who have to band together to get through their year-long university comedy play while hiding from everyone but each other their respective secrets of not really being a student there, and not really being Welsh. Madcap farcical hi-jinks ensue. People would watch it. I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions but I do quite enjoy Footlights stories, so I'm glad they made a really weird documentary with some of them. Also when I go to the UK this summer I've booked off one entire day to take the train to Cambridge and run around feeling like I'm in Harry Potter (Disclaimer: I also do not endorse JK Rowling's views on trans people, or at this point, on most things. Why can't we have nice things?).

I do not endorse the class-based dominance of elite institutions, but also,

And that probably the only time you'll hear someone compare John Oliver to John Robins (very different comedians, really), especially on a post that started out just being a way to share a video that's been taken off YouTube. Download the Google Drive link if you want to keep it, everyone. That was supposed to be the point of this post. It's a good video. It features Richard Ayoade and Matthew Holness and either that woman from Peep Show or her sister, I get them mixed up. And also it features John Oliver with, to be fair for one moment to that guy in 2006, quite Baddiel-like hair.

[monstersandmaw]

If you are doing the one-word prompt game, then, scarecrow for my prompt

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Wow. This one really got away from me, but then again, I probably owe you a longer story after all these years anyway! Thank you for the prompt! (heavily inspired by this haunted village ambience video on YouTube that I listen to a lot while writing).

Contents: a rather lonely male scarecrow x artistic gn reader, haunted village, a cheeky magpie, a cute rabbit, lots of soft fluff, sfw Wordcount: 2987

(prompts closed)

___

The last rays of sunlight glanced off mounded clumps of moss that choked the old, drystone wall on your left, and gave them all a little glint of gold. Part of you almost believed that if you were to risk a closer look into the cracks between the stones, you would find fairy coins and gems stashed there for safe keeping. Mud splashed up your boots from the rutted, potholed road which wound away down the hill, and off to your left, the looming beech wood whispered and rustled constantly, sending spiralling copper leaves out into the open fields to the right of the road.

Between the trees, twilight now began to pool and stretch, spreading like an ink stain over the carpet of fallen beech leaves and driving off the sun as night took its turn to watch over the woods and all the creatures who dwelt there.

A tawny owl took up a call from somewhere nearby. The broken half-refrain that sought a mate to complete the melody rang softly between the still trees, and you sighed, hoping he’d find a mate.

You’d heard about this place, the abandoned village in the valley, and had been travelling on foot for days to reach it with your sketch book in your bag and enough food to last you a week if you were careful. To your surprise, you glimpsed bright, fat, round pumpkins growing in the fields on your right, their coiling tendrils spreading merrily across the roughly tilled earth despite the place having lain barren and empty for generations. No one who lived within ten miles of this place ever dared come down this road, and yet there were fresh crops still growing in abandoned farmland.

“Full of ghosts and demons that place is,” the old baker’s wife had hissed at you that morning when you’d bought a loaf for the journey at the nearest town. “Don’t you go wandering around there…”

As you’d left that small, riverside town, with its creaking water mill and ringing blacksmith’s, a tall young man in a dark green cloak had come up to you and pressed a charm into your hands. He’d had a sharp, serious face and deep, black eyes, and people had whispered in the pub the night before that he was the witch’s son. You’d looked down at your hands and found a smooth disc made of antler with a familiar stave rune carved into it.

“To keep you safe,” he’d said, and turned away. You watched him walk a couple of paces before he stopped, sighed, and turned back to you. “I’ve been there,” he said. “To the village. Don’t take anything from there unless it’s given to you first.”

Unnerved by his odd advice, you’d just nodded, thanked him, and donned the protective amulet. It had warmed against your skin as it hung on its leather cord around your neck, and you ran your fingers over it a few times as you walked, thinking about this words again.

Now, as you peered over the planks of a rotting, dilapidated fence overlooking the village, you caught sight of a twisted old apple orchard swathed in evening mist in the wide, verdant valley off to your right, and what seemed to be a dark figure standing in the centre of it. Your heart fairly stopped beating until you realised that they weren’t moving at all, and it was only the faint breeze tugging at the corner of an old coat that was catching your eye. It was a scarecrow.

You camped that night in the only house that still seemed to have a solid, thatched roof, lighting a fire in the cold grate and sleeping in your bedroll on the flagstone floor rather than occupying the empty bed that had been left behind. It felt rude and presumptuous somehow.

After a spot of breakfast the next morning, you banked the fire and left your belongings neatly by the hearth, and looked around the small, single-roomed stone cottage before leaving. “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” you said aloud to no one in particular.

It seemed a bit silly, but it also important somehow, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a magpie flapped its wings in the rafters above and laughed at you. “No harm in saying thank you,” you muttered to it, and stumbled out of the door, embarrassed.

Your morning was spent wandering the village, getting to know the layout of the old, tumbledown buildings, but your afternoon took you to the ancient apple orchard where you found the scarecrow again, standing sentry in the centre of the trees with his arms spread wide, almost in welcome.

You came to a halt in front of him and looked up into his weathered face, surprised at how friendly his features were. Sure, his face was made of sack cloth and bits of pale straw stuck out at the cuffs and hem of his linen shirt, but the roots that had been chosen for his hands all had four fingers and a gnarled thumb, and the branches that made up his legs beneath the brown broadcloth trousers stuffed with straw were in proportion with the rest of his body. He had big, leather boots on which, like the rest of his clothes and the wide-brimmed, leather hat he wore, were in far better condition than they had any right to be after he’d been presumably hanging on his post for a hundred years or more.

“I almost want to offer you an apple,” you chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I haven’t come to thieve from your orchard. I’ve just come to draw the trees. I hope that’s alright. You mind if I sit with you a while?”

Obviously, you got no answer from the silent scarecrow, and although his face was warped with age, it seemed to have a kindly, almost curious set to its vague features, and the stitched mouth seemed to smile a little at the corners.

You sat with your back resting against his post and lost yourself in the careful skate of charcoal and graphite over paper, drawing the speckled feathers of a thrush as it hopped about looking for snails, the curve of the old, white gate that hung off its hinges at a jaunty angle, the lines of the roofs of the village with their ribcage rafters showing, the twisting trunks of the trees like gnarled hands reaching up from the earth to share their fruits with the world. Your magpie joined you for a while and hopped about, chattering away to himself, and you laughed as he began to play with a fallen leaf for a while before flapping off and leaving a single feather behind. You drew that too, lying in the dewy grass, but left it where it lay. The warning of the witch’s son reminded you not to take what had not been offered.

It was only when a cool breeze caressed the back of your neck like a lover’s breath that you jolted and realised how long you’d been sitting there.

The had light faded unnoticed from the brilliant pinks and oranges of sunset to the calm, quiet lilacs and blues of dusk that you blinked, and you could barely see three feet in front of you now. It was only because your paper was white that you could see the marks after all. Fog rolled in from the edges of the low-walled orchard, but despite the way the white fingers crawled across the grass, it didn’t seem threatening in the least.

Groaning and rolling your neck to ease the built-up tension and stiffness, you set your sketchbook down and clambered to your feet, joints creaking after so long in one pose, and you stretched out your back as well. You looked up at the scarecrow and frowned. You could have sworn he had been looking towards the gate when you’d arrived, but his head was bowed down now and looking in your direction.

“You’ve been watching me sketch, have you?” you said, not sounding quite as confident as you’d hoped. Perhaps he’d just moved in a breath of wind earlier. “Well, don’t judge me too harshly, hm? It’s the having fun that counts, not the end result. I’m sorry I intruded on your peace for so long though.”

Again the softest, gentlest breeze wafted around your face and the pages of your sketchbook fluttered open until they stopped on one you’d done of the scarecrow himself.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You like it?” you asked, not really believing that you were actually communicating. “I’m not sure I captured your smile quite right. I can come back again tomorrow and try again though. You’ll tell me if I’m not welcome, right?”

In a flash of black and white wings that came down out of nowhere and made you yip in surprise, the magpie landed on the scarecrow’s shoulder and gave another harsh, laughing chatter at you. He almost seemed to be mocking your startled reaction. Then he fluttered down onto the grass, hopped around a bit, and stooped to pick something up. When he flapped back up to the scarecrow’s shoulder and hopped about, he had the iridescent feather in his beak. He cocked his head a few times and then stuck his neck forwards towards you.

“For me?” you asked, reaching slowly for the feather.

The bird nodded, and as you took it, he spoke. “For you.”

Your eyes went wide and you almost dropped the feather. The black and white bird danced around, apparently enjoying your surprise. Then he made another few cawing noises, flapped his wings, and then disappeared off through a gap in the apple trees. “Well, thank you,” you croaked into the silence he left behind. You knew that corvids could imitate human speech, but that had all been very… precise.

Patting the scarecrow’s chest near his shoulder in an informal farewell, you turned to pick up your sketchbook from the dewy grass and looked back one last time at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When you stepped over the ruined gate to the orchard the next morning, you made deliberate note of where the scarecrow was looking, and it had definitely changed overnight. Now he was looking across at his right hand that was stretched out wide on the cruciform support from which he hung. In it, you saw a flash of white and a few flashes of colour, and frowned. He hadn’t been holding anything the previous day.

As you approached, you could see better what it was that he was holding, and you exhaled slowly. It was a beautiful bunch of silvery dried grasses, with bright dandelions, red poppies, and dusky blue harebells, all wrapped around with the fluffy heads of old man’s beard that loved to ramble freely over the hedgerows and walls.

“Is… Is that for me too?” you asked. “How did you get them?” An idea lodged itself in your mind and you couldn’t shake it. He was definitely able to look in different directions, so that must mean… “Can you move?”

Only the wind answered you for a long, stretching moment. Then, with the kind of aching slowness that made your heart stop, his head began to turn. Slowly, carefully, he nodded once.

You swallowed and took half a step back, heartbeat thudding. “Is it… Is it alright that I’m here?”

Again, to your immense relief, he nodded again. He moved like the rusty hinge of an old barn door.

“Can you speak?”

He paused, and for a second you thought perhaps he hadn’t understood, but then he nodded a third time.

You licked your lips nervously and looked at the flowers. “So… are they for me?”

Yet another nod was your only answer.

“Did you gather them yourself? I mean, can you… get down from there?” The idea of him roaming around the fields while you’d been fast asleep was partly terrifying and partly rather sweet, and it prompted another question before you’d even waited for the first to be answered. “Are we the only two people here?”

A warm, amused chuckle, like the crunching of autumn leaves, sounded from the scarecrow. He shook his head slightly.

“‘No’ we’re not alone or ‘no’ you can’t get down? Or ‘no’ you didn’t get them yourself?”

The gnarled fingers of his left hand twitched and then the rope that seemed to hold him lashed to the support loosened a fraction and he held up a finger in a gesture that asked you to wait, to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back again. “I get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

Another friendly laugh sounded and you watched the stitched gash that formed his mouth stretch upwards at the corners. His hollow eye sockets lifted a little too and his whole face expressed a gentle mirth. “I can speak…” he said in a rasping, reedy voice. “Though I have had no one but that wretched magpie to talk to for years.”

He spoke fondly enough of the creature, despite his words, and you smiled.

“I can move and get down, though it takes… effort.”

“Oh. Do you mind if I stay and draw some more?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come down and join me. I could even draw you again… see if I can get your face right this time.”

He laughed, and the ropes uncoiled on their own, gently lowering him down to the grass. He was about your height, though he stood crookedly, leaning against the support behind him. He kept the brim of his hat tilted down as if to shield his face from you, and he shifted self-consciously as you looked at him. He held out the flowers and you watched the way his hands moved like living flesh, though they were undoubtedly made of the roots of a tree.

You took the flowers carefully from him and felt oddly choked. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

“There’s not much out at this time of year, but…” he shrugged. “I found what I could. You were kind to sit and chat with me yesterday, even though you didn’t know I could hear you, and the magpie said you were polite in Old Rose’s cottage…”

“Thank you.”

Setting the flowers down beside your satchel, you drew out your sketchbook and sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. He sat as well, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting his hands lie softly in his lap. For a while he just watched you and then seemed to doze as the sun rose and lent a little weak warmth to the autumn day.

After a while, you began to ask him about the history of the village and why it had eventually been abandoned, and he talked in his rasping, faltering way for hours. A rabbit snuffled through the grass as the day wore on, and you froze, not wanting to startle it. It came right up to him, ears forward, nose twitching.

“Hello,” he murmured with a fond chuckle, and the creature leapt straight up into his lap. He cradled it and you carefully turned a new page in your sketchbook to try and capture it.

Luckily, the rabbit was in no hurry to leave, and he stroked his fingers through its fur long enough that you got three decent sketches out of it before it hopped off in search of the dewy dandelions growing between the trees. When he looked up at you and found you watching, he dipped his head again in a clearly bashful gesture.

“Want to see?” you said, waggling the sketchbook.

He nodded, and you went over to sit beside him. His finger shook as he trailed it carefully around the edge of the sketch, mindful not to smudge it, and then he looked up at you. This close, you could see the weave of the sack cloth that made up his face and the crinkles where the material pulled around his mouth and empty eye sockets. “You… I… Is this really how you see me?” he asked in a whisper barely louder than the breeze through the grasses.

With a frown, you turned your gaze back to the sketchbook to look at the drawings more critically. Was he offended? You thought you’d managed to capture the gentle way he’d cradled the rabbit’s soft body, the way his gnarl-knuckled hands had gracefully stroked its fur, the fond tilt of his head as he’d regarded the vulnerable creature in his care, but you’d also taken your time to match the way he listed slightly to one side, his broken-branch spine and crooked limbs not keeping him perfectly upright. It lent him a soft, shy quality, and you nodded. “I think you’re beautiful,” you said and then flushed hot with embarrassment.

He turned his head away and then looked back again, regarding you from the dark, shadowy hollows of his eyes. “No one has ever found me beautiful,” he said. “Not even the farmer who made me. I’m supposed to be frightening, you know? All the village children used to be afraid of me.”

“I’m sure you could be if you needed to be,” you said. “If I were here to steal apples, I mean. The rabbits aren’t a threat, and the magpie is only playful.”

“You could take anything you liked,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“But could you if you wanted to?”

He paused. “Yes.”

You brought your hand to his cheek and found the sack cloth warm beneath your palm despite the autumn chill in the air. “Let me stay and sketch a while longer?”

“As long as you like,” he whispered back. “You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

___

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[upquarkdownquark]

I kinda drew a lot today, so:

mini sketchbook tour time!

(this will be like mostly Eri, fair warning)

starting off, we have Eri from that one cultural festival scene but slightly edited:

odd cropping/shadows due to there's important information above that that I *shouldn't* share and this was outside and it was mostly dark

second up:

an oddly shiny picture of Eri at her canon age from when she was still with Overhaul, and then an aged up Eri in a UA uniform! both are side views, and they overlap a bit... sorry about that!

next up:

another two sketches of Eri! (wow, how exciting and different! /s)

one is her in a UA uniform, facing front, and the other is a potential hero costume idea. Included are:

Aizawa's capture cloth

Midoriya's sneakers

strips of brighter fabric so she's easier to see in darker situations (she would be brilliant in rescue missions and this would be a helpful addition)

and several knives and some generalized first aid equipment

last but not least of the Eris:

(ignore the text on top)

UA gym clothes! cause why not! without feet or well drawn hair, this time too

I was going to have her rolling up her sleeve and then realized a bit too late that the sleeves are shorter... dumb move on my part

getting slightly more technical here:

an explanation of how to view things (including people) as 3d by seeing them on a 3d coordinate plane and how different things in different places will be on different places or slices of existance, which helps when you're looking at something straight on and want to make it look more realistic

I haven't used it much myself, but I heard this trick on reddit (r/artistslounge I believe) and mentioned it to a friend, but they were confused so I used shoto as an example

finally:

HELLO, ZUKO HERE!

def not copied from a screenshot of ATLA

*bows out*

[lostinfic]

Self Indulgent prompts, huh? I love anything with artist Rose so something with that theme. I'm not picky about the Doctor- like my current obsession is Eight/Rose, but I'm perpetually in love with Nine/Rose and Ten/Rose too so whichever Doctor you're most comfortable with.

The Museum of Serendipity

Doctor x Rose, Wilf, male OC (Original Cat)

Rated E  | 2300 words

Sorry this took longer than anticipated, I got sidetracked by research and 8th Doctor audio adventures ;)

I’m fulfilling your self-indulgent prompts

Of all the wonderful, celebrated museums in London, Rose’s favourite was an anarchic collection housed in a crooked Georgian house in Marylebone. 

From ground floor to attic, over four storeys, shelves and frames lined the walls of every room, following a seemingly incoherent design. Part cabinet of curiosity and part celebration of beauty in all its forms, the collection was curated by an anonymous— and eccentric, Rose liked to imagine— philanthropist.

Its name, the Museum of Serendipity, summed up how the collection was put together. Or perhaps it indicated how this museum could be found: by sheer good luck, as it was not advertised anywhere. Rose herself had stumbled upon it by accident last September, when looking for a shelter from the rain. Quite a happy accident, since her art teacher had asked them to visit a gallery for their first assignment of the semester (she’d earned extra points for originality).

Despite few visitors, it remained open from morning to evening. More often than not, the elderly greeter slept in his rocking chair by the door, leaving Basil the cat in charge.

Its location near Regent’s Park, made it a perfect destination for a drawing session. On a beautiful spring day like today, Rose would walk along the paths of the park and draw the flora and fauna in her sketchbook. Then make her way towards the museum. Other days, after a long time indoors, she would enjoy the park’s fresh air and time to reflect on the latest collection piece she’d discovered.

Since her childhood, art had been a way for Rose to travel, around the globe and across time, a way to see the world through other people’s eyes and to share her own vision. A way to exist beyond the Powell Estate. The Museum of Serendipity transported her like nothing else.

Although she enjoyed the morning sun, she didn’t linger in Regent’s Park, too eager to get there. 

The elderly greeter was listening to the radio in his small front office. 

“Hello, Wilf!”

He jumped to his feet with an energy that belied his years.

“Ah, Rose, luv. Alright? How’s school?”

“Got another assignment to complete for art history class. By the way, mid-term break is coming up, if you fancy a holiday, I could cover your shifts here for a few days.”

He would be doing her a favour more than the other way around.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “We got a new piece came in.”

New pieces were simply added to the exhibition wherever a space was available. As they walked to the drawing room, Rose tried to know more about the museum.

“Who brought this new piece?”

“John did, just this morning.”

“John?”

“Yeah, John McConnell , the mailman,” Wilf said. “Here it is.”

On the mantel lay an artifact shaped like a metal glove without fingertips. Or a pan flute.

“Looks like something from the future,” she joked.

“Modern art, then,” Wilf said. 

He left her to look at it a while longer. The pattern that covered it, both engraved and raised all at once, looked like scales. Rose pulled her sketchbook out of her messenger bag and drew it. Texture study. 

Basil, the museum’s Abyssinian cat, greeted her, rubbing himself against her legs. She petted his long ears and ruddy coat. She followed Basil out of the room, and wandered the now familiar corridors and staircases. Her hand trailed along the faded floral wallpaper and oak paneling. The smell of candle wax and pine wood polish always hung in the air.

There was one painting in particular Rose always came back to, in the third floor library, just above a loveseat that once belonged to Marie Antoinette. Ahead of her, Basil jumped on the loveseat and looked at her expectantly.   

Rose pulled up a chair to sit down, the museum was almost a second home now, she had no qualms moving furniture around.

With a dreamy sigh, she let her eyes roam the large canvas. It depicted a dozen people in elegant Edwardian clothing, visiting an art exhibition. She was transported back in times, it seemed. Back to la Belle Époque. Late 19th- early 20th century, in France. Among women in high-necked waist shirts, carrying white lace parasols and men wearing mustaches and straw boating hats. The era of Moulin Rouge and absinthe, of the first movie, of bicycles and Marie Curie, just to name a few.  The era of Gustav Klimt, Toulouse-Lautrec, Van Gogh and Renoir, the artists whose work Rose had first fallen in love with. The painting itself blended elements of Art Nouveau and Impressionism (as she’d described in her second assignment).  

But there was one character in particular that commanded her attention again and again. There, in the upper left corner. The painter had done this trick which makes it look like the subject’s eyes are on you wherever you stand in the room. Though unnerved at first, Rose now tried to master this technique. Countless time she’d drawn his thick, curly brown hair, the soft contours of his jaw, his blue eyes, the creases that bracketed his mouth. And that smile, a Mona Lisa smile, the hardest trait to capture. 

His clothes also offered many details to work on: the sheen of his satin cravat, the velvet of his jacket, the pattern of his waistcoat. 

At first, she only tried to capture his likeness in various mediums, but over time she tried to sketch his profile, his back. She depicted that gentleman in various poses and actions. He had taken a life of his own. What was he doing there that day? What was his relationship with the painter? Why was he looking at her like that?

Basil meowed. 

“Alright, don’t be jealous. I’ll draw you first, you beautiful boy.”

“Thanks, it’s a new jumper. Do you like the colour?” said a man with a northern accent.

Rose started. He was leaning against the door, looking at her, with the smallest hint of a smile. 

He picked up Basil and sat down on the loveseat, laying the cat on his legs crossed at the knees. Rose held back a quip about the similar size of their ears.

“Well, go on, then,” he said, indicating her sketchbook with his chin.  

“Hold on, are you the director of the museum? Or the curator?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

At a loss for a reply, Rose simply got to work. 

If Basil wasn’t running away, then surely this man posed no threat. Just a lost, slightly odd item, like everything else in the Museum of Serendipity. Including herself.

His face offered such striking features to draw, that bold nose, those sharp cheekbones. The cropped hair revealed the shape of his skull and the collar of his sweater, a beautiful neck. A face for charcoal, she thought, to capture the lights and darks of him, in loose, almost intangible strokes. Charcoal and dry pastels, she amended, she had to recreate the infinite blue of his eyes.

They chatted about everything big and small: cats, galaxies, her doubts about art school and his hopes for the future of humanity.

Time flowed differently when she was creating. In that moment more than ever. A sort of appeasing, melodic hum filled her mind, and everything, but her subject, faded away.

When she traced his eyes, she was surprised to find in them a spark, as if he knew her. 

She looked up at him, and he smiled. “Hello,” he said.

Before she could think of a good way to phrase her question, he stood up and looked at the sketch over her shoulder. He gave an appreciative nod.

“We need someone to do a painting of the museum,” he announced. “Are you free to do it?”

“A painting? Are you taking the piss?”

“I’m serious. Great big canvas. Like this one.” He pointed to her favourite painting of la Belle Époque.

“I’ll need money to buy supplies,” she said, to test his good faith.

“Of course.”

He grabbed a tin box in a nearby bookcase; it was full of cash. He handed her the stack of pound notes without counting. Almost as if he was ignorant of their value. “Will this do?”

Rose nodded dumbly. She resolved right away to only spend a reasonable sum. 

“I’ll come by next Wednesday afternoon,” she said.

“Perfect. See you, then, Rose Tyler.”

She spent the next few days in a state of disbelief. Her mind constantly replayed her encounter with the blue-eyed man. Several times, she opened her sketchbook to look at his portrait. The fondness it aroused in her took her breath away. She found herself doodling both him and the gentleman in the painting, over and over.

She bought a load of art supplies, but kept the receipt in a secure place in case she needed a refund.

On Wednesday, she arrived at the museum with a knot in her stomach. Wilf greeted her, as usual, but he was wearing a smart new uniform.

A moment later, the blue-eyed man skipped down the stairs, two at a time, and welcomed her with a bright smile. He introduced himself as the Doctor, just the Doctor, and Rose went along with it— after all, it wasn’t the weirdest thing about him.

He’d set up an easel and a canvas in the third floor library. She barely paid attention to his directives, she was distracted by the number of visitors in the museum, more than she had ever seen.

“Is this a prank show thing or what?” she asked.

“Why would it be a prank show?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you said it. Why a prank show?” he repeated.

“‘Cause to get that many actors and props, it’s got to be on telly.”

“That makes sense. Well done.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s not a tv show,” he said. 

“But— why?”

“It’s the museum’s anniversary. We are interested in collecting unique pieces, and what’s more unique than Rose Tyler’s first commissioned artwork?” 

“Maybe the last,” she mumbled.

“It won’t be,” he said, stating a fact rather than paying a compliment. “Coffee?”

The Doctor knew something she didn’t, and as irritating as it was, it incited her to stay and fulfill his request.

She laid a tarp on the floor below the easel, spread out her brushes and palette knives, picked the colours. 

Basil, of course, wanted to be part of the painting. He lay down in the sunniest spot, on the window sill, looking ever so regal.

As she prepped the canvas, her brain ran ahead of her with ideas to best infuse her art with feelings this room evoked. Warm earth tones, old leather bound books, a thick Persian rug, but also glass cases to keep people away, artworks by undisclosed artists, mysteries all around. Inviting and distant all at once. Much like the Doctor.

She scanned the room for him. He stood in a corner of the library, surveying. As she traced his silhouette, she noticed the similarity, in his posture and smile, with the fascinating gentleman in the Belle Époque painting. She made a mental note to ask about that too.

Hours passed by, Wilf kept her comfortable with cups of tea, snacks, a stool, opening the window, closing the window.

Everyone had left. The sun had set. Only the Doctor and Basil remained in the room with her. 

The artwork wasn’t finished, but it had everything she needed to continue another day. Yet, she didn’t leave. She didn’t want to. She stood there, wringing her paint-splattered hands waiting for something, anything, from the Doctor. 

“I want to show you something,” he said. He took her hand and they both stood up on Marie Antoinette’s loveseat. “Look closely.”

Now inches from the Belle Époque painting, she saw it like she never had before. It shimmered and shifted. Like those 3D images you have to cross your eyes to see. She blinked. Looked closer. And drifted through the canvas.

Rose gripped the Doctor’s hand tighter. Behind them, there was no library, only a blue door. And in front of her, the painting had come to life. No— they weren’t in the painting, they were in Paris of the 1900s. Around her, people chatted in French, cigar smoke wafted to her nose, and through a window that wasn’t on the painting, she could see the brand new Eiffel tower.

The gentleman that had so fascinated her was there too. Thick hair, bright smile.

“Rose, we meet at last,” he said.

His voice sounded exactly like she’d imagined. She didn’t know until now that she’d imagined his voice.

“She’s all yours,” the Doctor said.

Rose didn’t let go of his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here to bring you back to your own timeline.”

He disappeared through the blue door.

The other man linked their arms together. A feeling of safety washed over her. He was a stranger and yet not at all. As if to reassure her further, an Abyssinian cat sauntered by.

“Is that Basil?” Rose asked.

“In a fashion. Cats have nine lives, as you know.”

“And you, Doctor, how many have you got?”

The Doctor smiled. “Ah, you figured it out, clever girl.”

That didn’t mean she didn’t have a ton of questions, but for now, she only wanted to soak up the magic of it all. 

The Doctor showed her around the room. They mingled with the other visitors, admiring the artwork on the walls. Rose couldn’t stop grinning.

They stopped in front of a painting depicting another gallery, in another museum, in another era.

“Can we go through there too?” Rose ventured.

“Yes, but wouldn’t you like to see Paris first?”

“We can go out?”

“Of course. You know, my friend Claude has been pestering me about visiting his garden. Nice fellow, this Claude. Mind you, he’s a tad obsessed with water lilies.”

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

okay so I’ve been working on three different things, all of which are in various stages of being finished, but none of them are going to get posted nearly as soon as I’d like so have this little thing that makes me feel productive-

pastel punk hippie Remy

Inspired by @blinksinbewilderment during her stream

Note- I mean hippie as in, like, artistic hippie. Not 60′s-70′s flower power hippies

First things first- what he looks like

His aesthetic’s a mess but a good one

He’s got three leather jackets, all of them paint stained

He’s got even more plaids, and the majority of them are also paint stained

Lots of tank tops and crop tops, normal plain white ones that are ALSO paint stained (he’s a messy boi) and ones that are bright flashy colours

He’s got two pairs of sunglasses- both heart shaped, one pink and one black

Plenty of piercings- lots in his ears and a lip one- but most of the earrings he wears are self-made

Ripped up jeans with roses on the pockets

Skirts ranging super short to super long in various pastel shades, the bottoms of which are normally torn up or messy in some way

Scuffed up white shoes that he’s doodled all over

Half his hair’s shaved off, he’s got an undercut of swirling flower designs, and he dyes it at least twice a month

Has a few beanies, mostly cool colour ones, that he’s sometimes wearing and sometimes isn’t

He’s got tattoos, too- roses that look like they’re dripping crimson red with plenty of thorns wrap around his wrists and up his arms, a swirl of stars around his left ankle, a flurry of birds and butterflies running up his back

He paints his nails a lot, too, light rainbow colours that are overlaid with sparkles and little designs

He doesn’t actually wear much make-up; sometimes when he really wants his look to POP he will, but that’s not often

He’s gender-queer- fuck the system, including the binary one- and changes his pronouns at the drop of the hat (he/him’s just the set he defaults to the most) and some mesh of sexuality and romance- he’s really not sure what mesh and to be honest he doesn’t care much

Most people don’t know how he can be a punk, into pastels, AND a hippie, but it’s pretty simple- he hates the government, loves pastels, and he’s an artist. that’s that.

When it comes to artist, he’s two-handed: both a drawing artist and a musical one

He plays guitar + writes his own songs. most of the time he doesn’t sing, but when he does, it’s good- he’s got the range to sing hauntingly melancholy, loudly upbeat, and everything in between

He always draws and paints- sketches on pretty much everything he can touch, paints much less but much more messy

He’s a loner pretty much every where he goes- he’s an odd one, and people don’t like odd ones- but Remy’s of the firm opinion that animals and nature are better than humans any day of the week, so he doesn’t mind much

It does make him pretty bad at socializing, of course, but he finds filling the awkward gaps with petnames that throw the other members of the conversation for a loop makes him look fairly competent

No one’s really sure how he made it through college given he often preferred to skip class to go explore the wilderness, but he did, and he came out of it with a masters in computer science and a minor in marine biology- a class he seems to have taken more for the fun than the employment opportunities

Remy also learned a lot from all his class skips to explore the woods nearby his university- he’s very good at climbing trees, and he can easily convince a good amount of the wildlife to trust him

When he was at school, you could often find him perched in one of the trees or on top of a rock, playing his guitar and singing for the birds

You can still find him like that now, it’s just harder to guess which forest he’ll be camped out in

Remy’s job is mostly at home, done electronically, so he has a lot of free time in between his tasks

A lot of that free time is spent doing less legal programming... namely hacking

Sometimes rebellion is electronically stealing from the rich and dispersing their funds to various charities that deserve them, alright?

He also bikes everywhere!

And I do mean a normal bike- not a motorbike

He also keeps five different flip-knives on him- he is a punk, after all, and rarely a rational one- all of which are bejeweled

No one knows where Remy keeps all five but he always has all five on him

Anddddddd... yeah. pastel punk hippie Remy. I love him

[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.

[accio-kitty-malfoy]

A Breath of Fresh Hair

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/59552158

Chapter Two: Friends, Reunited.

 Charlie had arrived late into the previous night. Harry had heard him being greeted by his mother and father. He could see in his mind Arthur taking the luggage out of Charlie’s hands and Molly replacing it with a cup of tea. Harry fell to sleep with their indistinguishable chatter floating in and out of his ears. The morning after he was able to take in Charlie’s appearance. The last time he’d seen him was about four months previously and he was just a little bit more tanned, his muscles were a little bigger and his silky hair was that little bit longer. Harry’s fingers twitched at the thought of tidying it up a little bit and feeling the weight and shine of it in his fingers. Envy also flitted in the pit of his stomach. He loved cutting and styling others’ hair, but his was still an uncontrollable mop. Charlie was also clearly covering up yet another new tattoo. Harry thought that Ginny looked the most like Charlie out of all the brothers; both of them had a somewhat androgynous beauty and natural glow about them.

“You alright mate?” Ron’s concerned face came into focus over his cup of tea.

“Yeah, just thinking I guess.” Harry smiled reassuringly at Ron and began to eat the omelette that had just been placed down in front of him. It was delicious.

 Bill and Fleur arrived just after all the breakfast things had been cleared away. The heat had come back with a vengeance and Fleur looked like she was melting with her huge baby bump. A gigantic smile kept breaking out on Bill’s face every time he looked at her. Fleur was on Maternity Leave from her position as a healer at St Mungo’s and she was due to give birth a couple of weeks after Ron and Hermione’s wedding. When they’d told the family, Molly could barely contain her excitement. She’d already knitted the baby enough clothes for the first year of its existence. Harry chatted with the family for a while, enjoying the busy hustle and bustle of people having several different conversations at once, people flitting in and out of the kitchen doing jobs and Bill and Fleur’s Basset Hound Philippe playing with Charlie’s Central Asian Shepherd Hound Lucy.

 Ginny was buzzing with nervous energy next to Harry. They’d decided that Harry was going to cut their hair the next day. They were going for a style that was short at the sides with some length at the top so they could style it if they wanted to. It was currently tied up in its usual messy bun and Harry couldn’t wait to get his hands on it. Ginny had spoken to Hermione about it, worried that the drastic change would detract attention from her at the wedding and put it on Ginny instead. Hermione had just smiled and wrapped Ginny in a hug, assuring them that they should do whatever made them comfortable. Harry could tell that Ginny was worried about how her family would react. Harry knew that they had no reason to be. They’d all been perfectly accepting when Charlie had come out as gay and then later on as asexual, but he could also understand Ginny’s fears. They’d also been the only little girl of the family for a long time. Ginny was also super nervous about the upcoming trials for the Holyhead Harpies. They’d been training non-stop since they’d been asked to try out the previous month. The try-outs were still a month off, but Ginny wanted to position of Chaser so badly that all of their fiery determination had been poured into practicing and training. Harry reached under the table and squeezed their hand, shooting them a small smile, and they seemed to calm down a fraction. Ginny jumped slightly as an owl tapped frantically on the kitchen window. It was Pig with a letter. They ran over to the window to let the frantic owl in and carefully untied the letter before giving the tiny owl a treat and rushing upstairs.

“Gin’s been getting a lot of letters recently,” Ron remarked, looking up from the sketch book in front of him and tucking a pencil behind his ear. “I wonder who they’re from.”

 The Weasley kids and Harry decided to go out for a friendly game of quidditch before lunch, Fleur and Hermione watching from a blanket set up under a large parasol. Ron, Bill, and Harry were on one tea; Charlie, Ginny and George were on the other. The game soon became fierce and sweat was dripping off them all before they’d finished. Ron had become a pretty good keeper, but he was no match against Ginny. They were relying on Harry to catch the snitch, but the game came to an end before that happened when Arthur came out with a tray of his home brewed cider and two gooseberryaids for Ginny and Fleur. They were all parched and the cold beverages felt like heaven as they lounged in the shade, sipping and chatting. Molly was soon walking out of the house towards them, lugging the picnic that her and Ron had prepared the day before. It was spread out on blankets and everyone ate ravenously, and silence fell upon them for a while. When a lot of the food had been consumed and people were picking at bits that were left, conversation started up again and turned towards the upcoming wedding.

“Are you excited Hermione?” Fleur asked, resting her glass on her bump and shifting to try and get comfortable again.

“I am. There’s been so much to plan, but I’ve been so thankful for my mum and Molly helping with the organisation. They’ve been stars.”

“I can’t wait to see your dress, I bet you’re going to look stunning.” Charlie grinned at her. Harry agreed. He wondered what kind of style she’d gone with. For her job at the ministry she usually just wore smart trousers and a blouse and comfy shoes that allowed her to be on her feet as much as she needed to, and around the house she either wore cropped capris and a tank top and cardigan or maxi dresses. She usually either had her hair braided to keep it away from her face or left it natural and wore a thick fabric headband. Comfort and practicality were Hermione’s style, but she always looked effortlessly wonderful.  She smiled back at them and tapped the side of her nose. Ron looked at her adoringly.

 Ron and Hermione got together at the end of the war. There was something about them that just fit. Hermione was strong and independent, and Ron loved that about her. He knew that she could look after herself and he admired her passion and drive. She’d gone back to Hogwarts to study and get the qualifications she needed to get the job she wanted at the Ministry. She threw herself into her studies as a way of dealing with her grief and as a way of proving herself to others. Ron stayed at The Burrow and looked after his mum. He cooked and cleaned on the days that she couldn’t get out of bed and he drew a lot. He would go out for hours walking and drawing landscapes. He drew a portrait of Hermione for their first anniversary and it was one of the most beautiful things that Harry had ever seen. He’d managed to catch her power, calm confidence and wicked mischief whilst also perfectly portraying her soft curves, perfect skin and gorgeous bouncy hair. It really was a masterpiece. After a while he started drawing up plans for buildings that Dean and Seamus were working on. They offered him a position in their business as a partner. He declined, saying he’d rather work freelance, but they would have first dibs on him if they ever needed him. It was tough for the couple at the start of their relationship. They were apart for a lot of it, only seeing each other at weekends and during the holidays, and they were both broken and grieving. They made it work though. The three of them spent the weekends and holidays that Hermione was back from Hogwarts looking for ways to fid her parents and restore their memories. It took them seven and a half months, but they managed it with the help of the rest of the family and the teachers at Hogwarts. Harry blinked a couple of times, picking up a handful of blueberries and anchoring himself back in the present. Ginny squeezed his shoulder supportively and left to go and find more cider for the rest of the group and gooseberryade for themselves.

 Neville, Dean and Seamus arrived later on that day. They were going to spend the couple of days before the wedding putting together gazebos and marquees to give people places to shelter from the heat. Neville was in charge of living flower arrangements, including flowers that glowed with soft light when it went dark that would provide lighting in the evening. The next couple of days were bound to be full of stress, work and excitement. None of them minded, however, as they’d been promised Molly and Ron’s cooking. Harry was looking forward to watching everyone creating and working with the things they loved. It was fascinating to him to see people so passionate about things. He was charged with odd jobs and then styling the hair of the bridal party, which included Hermione the bride, Ginny as the maid of honour and Fleur and Luna as the bridesmaids. He couldn’t wait to see what they all looked like after he’d finished, especially when they were all in their beautiful clothes.

 After a while, Charlie, Bill and Fleur went back into the house and Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Seamus and Neville sat reminiscing about their days at Hogwarts. Neville had become a professor of Herbology at Hogwarts the year before after his Grandmother had passed away and was looking forward to going back after the summer. He adored his job; he swore when he took up the position that no child under his care would ever feel the way he did at school and Harry knew that he would stick to his word. He also wrote a plant advice column for the Quibbler and dabbled in landscaping and flower arranging in his spare time, if he ever had any. He’d been ecstatic when Ron and Hermione had asked him to do the flowers for their wedding. Dean and Seamus had brought Noodle along with them and the three dogs were bounding around the garden, making a game of who could make the biggest splashes in the pond. The group sat watching and laughing at the dogs, making bets on which one would run up to them and shake water all over them first.

 “Pizza?” Ron’s question caused a flurry of excitement amongst the friends and they all gave him their orders for him to make on his outdoor pizza oven. The pizza was crisp, the cheese was gooey, and Harry was thankful that he was Ron’s best friend; the guy knew how to cook. After they were all so stuffed with pizza that they didn’t think they could move, Seamus conjured a fire pit and Ron went to look for marshmallows. They sat late into the night drinking and talking and being at piece with the world. They were all excited about the wedding and all of the things that were planned for after it, but after a while they all began struggling to keep their eyes open and decided that it was time to retire to the house, ready for the insane amount of work that they would be doing in the following couple of days.

 Harry went to sleep with a full stomach and a full heart.

[t-khalynn-tales]

Meetings and Farewells, Part 1

The Letter - Talathar

Tala took a deep breath, staring down at the still-blank page before her.

Is just a letter, she chided herself sternly. Is just writin’ down th’ words ‘nside my head. Isnae hard ta do.

And yet, she’d been staring at the page for the past ten minutes now. After spending the fifteen minutes before that straightening up her desk. Because the five minutes before that, she’d spent making a mess of it, rummaging through drawers looking for her favorite pen.

Irritably, she shook her head.

Gotta stop overthinkin’. Gotta focus.

With a look is sheer determination, she pushed her fears aside and took up the pen. She dipped the nib into the inkwell, carefully blotted it a few times to knock off some excess ink, then pressed it firmly to the page.

__________

Hello Meilee,

Thank you for accepting this letter. I know it’s kind of strange, but I thought maybe this would be better for a first introduction.

Hi. My name is Talathar. I am a lalafell orphan, and I was found almost fifteen years ago by my adoptive mother, Khalynn Tahl. She’s a Hyur, from Gridania.

And I think we might be related. At least, it seems like it. I’m friends with some folks who say we look a lot alike, like family. Blood family. I don’t remember any blood family. But then, I can’t remember lots of stuff, before my mother found me.

But I think that’s because of what happened before. Because, I think, during the time I can’t remember, some bad people were doing research into aetherical energies. And they were using people to experiment on. And I think I was one of them.

Because of all the scars I have. Some of them were for certain caused by magics. But there is also the brand mark on my left shoulder. Talin says you showed her your book. And my brand looks the same as a mark in your book, she said.

So, we might be family. If you want, anyway - I don’t want to force anything on you. But, if you want, we could maybe meet up. And see if being family works out.

If you are willing, please let Talin know. Whenever. Take your time to decide. I asked her to let me know your decision, when you’re ready.

Thank you, and take care.

Sincerely,

Talathar Khalynn Tahl

__________

There was a soft knocking at the door, met only by silence. The second knock was also unanswered. There was no third, as instead the door slowly opened, revealing a clearly annoyed miqo’te woman.

“Tala, it’s late,” M’yrissa admonished sternly, golden eyes flashing in the soft lantern light. “Why are you still…”

Her voice trailed off.

The diminutive lalafell was curled up at her desk, fast asleep. Her fingers were ink-stained, and there were smudges on her face as well. Crumpled, balled-up pages lay scattered on and around the desk. Yet off to one side were two pages, clearly written, carefully laid out to dry cleanly.

Curious, she glanced over the letter quickly, then looked over at her sister again in understanding. She shook her head, then shook her sister’s shoulder gently.

“Tala. Come now, it’s time for bed,” she said quietly.

Sleepy grumbles were the only response at first, but after a little more coaxing, the grumpy lala barely opened one eye. The normally bright blue eye blinked dully in the dim light, taking in the familiar form of her sister before she murmured consent. The eye closed again, and she drifted back to sleep almost immediately.

M’yrissa sighed in relief. She knew from past experience that trying to suddenly pick up or grab a sleeping Tala was often not wise. The night terrors were better now, but still occasionally cropped up. Gently, she bent to lift her sister up, and carried her to bed.

Once Tala was settled, the youngest Tahl returned to the front chamber, quietly returning the cluttered desk to its normal, semi-organized state. But as she was returning the blank pages to the desk drawer, an idea made her pause a moment. Lips pursed, she hesitated only briefly before reaching for her ever-present pouch of colored pencils.

__________

The next morning, Tala woke up. In her comfy bed. And her comfy jammies. Not at her uncomfy desk, wearing her regular day clothes. Obviously someone had moved her to her sleeping quarters last night.

Gods, I hope i’ was Kory. Or M’yr. An’ not somebody else. Tha’ would be 'mbarrassin’. Or bad. But, ‘m not seein’ scorch-marks ‘round th’ doorway, an’ dun smell nothin’ burnt, so hopefully was okay?

She decided that she needed to make sure, just in case.

Tala scrambled passed the small furred-and-feathered pile nestled together on the bed – Fennec and Scouter had become fast friends, which was a little odd, considering gryphons were known to sometimes eat foxes in nature – over to the edge, and carefully hopped down. Literally. Because the bed was most definitely not lala-sized, and was easily half her height above the floor. Still, it was comfy enough, although she still wasn’t sure she wanted to know where X’dayn had found it, or how the retainer had managed to move it into the room by himself.

The reformed thief-turned-retainer was perhaps not fully reformed.But that was a problem for a different day.

She opened the door to the outer chamber, and was relieved to find the room undamaged. Someone had made sure to blow out the lanterns, and even straightened up her desk. A little worried, Tala checked to make sure the letter she had labored over was still there – and found an extra page sitting on top.

It was a drawing. Her sister had made a colored sketch to include with the letter. M’yrissa had always been a talented artist, though these days she rarely indulged, and at times seemed almost reluctant to reveal her ability.

It was perfect.

With a nod, she reached for a pen, and the inkwell, to add a quick note to the bottom of the letter.

P.S. Here is a small portrait of what I kind of look like. My little sister, M’yrissa, drew it.

After a few minutes, she collected the pages together, folded them securely, and reached for the sealing wax. Once the small bundle was secure, she reached for her link pearl, and tapped it to activate a link to a specific person.

“Ummm, hi Talin? Is Tala… can I ask ya fer a favor?” __________

A.N. -- Thank you to Talin, for permission to use her character in this work!

[ethanalter]

'Coco' the musical? This deleted scene shows Pixar film's radical transformation (exclusive)

Since the first Toy Story revolutionized the animation game in 1995, Pixar has successfully tackled such diverse genres as superhero adventures (The Incredibles), space operas (Wall-E), body horror (Inside Out), and post-apocalyptic yarns on a human-free Earth (the Cars series). But there remains one cinematic realm that the studio has yet to conquer: musicals. According to Pixar veteran Lee Unkrich, that very nearly changed with Coco, the 2017 blockbuster he co-directed with Adrian Molina. Speaking with Yahoo Entertainment, the Toy Story 3 director revealed that at one point in its lengthy development process, Coco was going to be Pixar’s first-ever full-on musical. Unkrich was so serious about shattering that particular barrier he hired the powerhouse Frozen songwriting duo of Bobby Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez to pen a half-dozen original tunes, several of which made it as far as the storyboard stage. “We were fully on the path to doing a musical for at least a year if not more,” he remembers, “Finally, we hit a point where it felt like the movie was trying to be something different from what we were making.”

Rather than bury the evidence of an alternate version of Coco in the Pixar Vault, the film arrives on Blu-ray and 4K Ultra HD on Feb. 27 with those excised songs included among the bonus features. Yahoo Entertainment has an exclusive peek at one of the missing musical numbers, a family sing-along called “Way of the Riveras,” which would have appeared early on in the story. (Watch the clip above.) As in the cut we saw in theaters, the musical version of Coco followed aspiring musician Miguel — then called Marco — as he ventures into the Land of the Dead on Día de los Muertos in pursuit of iconic singer, Ernesto de la Cruz. Before crossing over, his family insists that he give up a music career in favor of continuing the family’s shoemaking trade, an argument they make through song. “You also get free footwear, which is a bonus,” the clan sings, while the kid looks on skeptically.

From the beginning, Unkrich knew that there was some incongruous about making a musical in which the central family lives by a strict “no music” rule. “We knew it was weird and challenging at the time, but we were trying to embrace the oddness of it all,” he admits. With that in mind, the team forged ahead in sketching out storyboards for big production numbers that would accompany Lopez-penned tunes like “Día de los Muertos,” the song that provided the original opening for Coco. “It felt like a traditional Disney musical number, and then it was revealed that you were watching a stage show at a Mexico City dinner theater,” Unkrich explains. “The intention was to educate the audience about the holiday, and set the tone for the movie ahead. Ultimately, we found it was taking too long in the storytelling before we met Miguel and got into his story.”

After spending a year trying to steer Coco around the various narrative roadblocks that kept cropping up, Unkrich and Molina concluded that a musical version of the film simply wasn’t going to fly and refashioned it as a movie with music as opposed to a full-blown musical, taking their inspiration from an unlikely source. “I ended up looking to the Coen brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou? as a model for how to make a film where music is a vital part of the storytelling, and there are lots of performances in the course of the movie.” And, as in that folk music-infused favorite, the directors wanted to explore a wide variety of musical sounds and traditions from the region where the action unfolds. “I wanted to embrace the full landscape of Mexican music; I felt we were limiting ourselves by just sticking to the songs we had been writing for the movie. We’re excited to include them on the Blu-ray — they are fun songs and give people a glimpse of all the blind alleys we inevitably go down in the course of developing a story.”

Even though the majority of the Lopez’s work hit the cutting room floor when the musical version was shelved, Unkrich points out that one of their songs survived all the way to the final cut. The Oscar-nominated ballad “Remember Me” was the first musical number they wrote, and immediately became the emotional foundation on which the film is built. “Even though the story went through all kinds of changes along the way, ‘Remember Me’ remained the bedrock,” Unkrich says. “It always ended with Marco back home singing to Mama Coco. That’s a testament to our great songwriters. I don’t think I gave them a single note.”

Coco is available on Digital and Movies Anywhere on Tuesday and Blu-ray, DVD and 4K Ultra HD on Feb. 27.

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

‘Coco’: How Frida Kahlo’s hilarious, inspiring cameo happened

‘Coco’: You won’t believe all the Disney-Pixar Easter eggs hidden in plain sight

Gael García Bernal says ‘Coco’ is perfect antidote to Trump’s anti-Mexican rhetoric

‘Olaf’s Frozen Adventure’ to leave theaters: ‘Coco’ co-director Adrian Molina explains what Pixar was thinking (exclusive)

[chrismorgan-illustration-vskills]

Visual Skills 7

We started to learn about composition this week. Exploring principles such as the ‘Rule of Thirds’, the ‘Rule of Odds’ and the ‘Golden Ratio’.

During the session we were challenged to look at work by a chosen illustrator, to try and identify where some of the principles we had discussed may occur.

My chosen illustrator was Skottie Young, a comic book artist.

The ‘Rule of Thirds is easily identifiable in this composition. 

He also appears to use the ‘Golden Ratio’ in a number of his works.

Although less evident in this image, I still think the principle has been used due to the main elements of the piece following the curve with the focal point at the end of the spiral. You could also suggest that the ‘Rule of Odds’ has been used.

Our next task was to select a photograph we had taken with our phone and draw a thumbnail sketch of how we could improve its composition if we were to take it again.

In the first thumbnail I just tried to replicate the image and in the second I attempted to adopt the ‘Rule of Thirds’ while also including cropping the figure in half. I think this would add a mysterious element to the image.

Finally in the third reproduction I decided to alter the viewpoint as if the figure was looking over the viewer, which could suggest a more imposing situation.

The directed task for this week was to select an illustration that we had created in previous weeks and attempt to improve it using a different composition.

I decided to use an illustration I had produced for the Colour & Communication module.

Looking at the elements within the image I felt that the ‘Golden Ratio’ may work well in making it look more interesting.

I am much happier with this version than the first. Altering the composition has created a much more dynamic image.

Our session on Tuesday led us to the National Museum Cardiff where we would further explore composition.

We were set 4 tasks to produce work while walking around the exhibits.

Task 1 was to find 3 examples of good composition in artworks and record these in our sketchbooks.

With the first artwork, I noticed that even though the colours aren’t particularly intense the image feels very powerful and striking due to the vertical lines. If this picture was rotated horizontally I think it would be less effective.

In the second picture I looked at I considered that a number of principles might have been used. 

When I first looked at it, I was drawn to the tree before moving around the image to the 2 figures, then noticing the building at the far right. This might be what the artist intended with an an invisible shape to guide the viewer around the work.

I later noticed that there was a boat in the water which you could argue that the ‘Rule of Odds’ had been used.

The third picture was a very similar image to the previous one but had a much more dramatic atmosphere.

This time I didn’t find myself looking at the tree first but more so at the figures and then the building on the cliff.

I believe that the ‘Golder Ratio’ is very evident here.

The remaining tasks were set in the natural history section of the museum.

Task 2 was to do 3 warm-up drawings of animals or displays. They had do be quick continuous line drawings but be done as accurately as possible.

Continuous line and time limits have been an area where I have felt quite disappointed with my work over the past few weeks. However I think I achieved some nice accurate illustrations in a relatively short time with this task.

In task 3 we would have to create 3 contour drawings of animals in the natural history section using some of the composition principles we have been studying.

With composition being the main part of the task I didn’t spend long periods of time doing each drawing but I still tried to give an accurate representation of what I was looking at.

My first drawing was based around the ‘Rule of Odds’ principle.

My second I wanted to try the ‘Rule of Thirds’ which also included some cropping.

Then moving onto the third I attempted to use ‘The Golden Ratio’.

I think I achieved the correct results in my first 2 drawings but the third would probably fall into the ‘Rule of Thirds’ more than the ‘Golden Ratio’.

Finally Task 4 was to create a drawing using a viewpoint that would illustrate a chosen word from horrifying, claustrophobic, tiny or queasy.

From my earlier warm up drawings I thought the Basking shark would be a good subject to use as horrifying.

I thought a viewpoint from directly underneath with the shark filling the image would help create the sense of a huge horrifying creature looming overhead. 

Wednesday was the penultimate session of our life drawing study in this module. as usual the model started with some short warm up poses.

After some feedback with our lecturer Liam, I wanted to try to reduce the lines I was making when building up the shape of the figure. I was also conscious that in previous weeks I have been elongating the torso and limbs, so I tried to pay particular attention to this too.

In my first attempt at a 2 min pose I ran out of time but with the other 3 I did manage to achieve a good representation. 

If I look back at the 2 min poses I did during my first life drawing session there is a definite improvement in the quality of work.

Increasing the time to 5 mins I tried to continue with more definitive lines. 

Again I was quite happy with how they turned out.

The length of the poses continued to increase and so I continued trying to work at the same speed and to be confident in my line making, the extra time would allow me to further refine each drawing. 

The final pose was 25 mins (bottom image). This is the one I am most happy with so far from all of the life drawing sessions.

I feel the figure has better proportion than some of my previous work. I have also attempted to use a little more shading, this I something that I will continue to develop.

Overall I think this week I’ve seen the biggest improvement in all the areas we have covered. I have achieved much better results with short timescales in both the museum task and the life drawing.

[r-743-a]

Landscape Designs - Home And Garden Ideas

Landscape designs could be planned out in various different ways, and there's no wrong or right way to design your own. It is all about your dreams of the perfect view. You don't need to become a professional landscape designer to find the perfect look. Go ahead have a chance and be as creative as you wish with your design, incorporating many ideas to the finished product.

With a little planning and plenty of creativity your dreams of a gorgeous landscape can be accomplished.

The 1 thing that you would like to remember is to be certain you lay out the design of your landscape prior to breaking ground. To save yourself more undesirable work it would be best to draw the design out on paper . Doing this will save time and frustration by ripping out and minding your landscaping ideas. Don't be concerned if you are not an artist, a rough sketch will work.

When you're planning your new front or garden the major thing that you would like to do is make certain all the plants, shrubs, or trees you're thinking about utilizing compliment each other. You would not want your newly assembled landscape to resemble a major selection of mismatched creations. You also wouldn't need to lower the value of your house when you're finished. The point is to add value to your house, and make it more inviting to your customers.

An important element to good landscape designs is finding something which grabs everyone's attention, which will become the focal point in your design. You might want something that's extraordinary or maybe something easy, but finally eye catching. Choose something which gives your garden or landscape a warm and inviting feel for everyone who grace it. A few good examples are an arbor or big planter.

A significant part of your landscape is functionality and accessibility. Remember your intent for the distance as you're designing that new look. If you're somebody who utilizes that specific area regularly for family gatherings, then you may wish to keep the space open and comfortable for your visitors. If the space you're creating is employed for a peaceful getaway, then your design should comprise less space with more calming features like plants and flowers.

Another terrific way to bring peacefulness and focus to your area is to include water gardens or ponds. If you're wishing to put in one of those magnificent eye catchers, you need to shop around and get the best thought and products that match your circumstance. There are various resources written on this topic, and also lots of professionals and places to help you chose the best product for your design. Bear in mind that there may be more maintenance for this, depending on how you proceed with this.

There are a number of other excellent places to find even more great ideas. Browsing in a magazine, books, or on the internet are excellent places to begin. You can also look at other landscaped designs that will assist you come up with that perfect design you're trying to find. You might want to take pictures of different designs throughout your community and integrate your favourite looks into a magnificent design. Speak with your neighbors if they have something in their yard that you envy.

If you're thinking about designing and building the landscape yourself remember to leave yourself time for imagination. You will undoubtedly consider things to add when you're partly through the project. By taking the extra time you may make your house into a place which you may enjoy, and show with additional pride knowing that you made it yourself. The last thing you need to think when you're finished is that you just wish you could have added something else.

Exciting Useful Home and Garden Ideas to Bring That Spring Into Your Step

Now that spring is here, it's time to enjoy pottering in the garden and searching for signs of life following that long bleak winter. Benefit from dry sunny days to rake snow mould off the lawns and prepare for a glorious summer . While each season has its charm, it's an established truth that hot weather invigorates and goads people into action following a sedentary winter period.

Where do I begin?

The simplest method is to start small. Choose the area that you would like to designate for beautifying and prepare it for a wonderful yield. Pick a sunny corner to home a compositor and begin building a compost pile, which will be a wonderful boon in summer. Learn about weed control, weeds, insect repellants and disease control along side with watering requirements of crops. A helpful home and garden idea is to pick blooms of interest to the time and invest in them. Be certain that you clearly demarcate the vegetable garden from the flowering shrubs. Plant the flowering shrubs on either side of pathways or drives to make a happy alluring appearance. 

Go organic with mulch

If you operate on wet solids, odds are you will end up with large clumps of hard packed dried dirt. It's not a good idea to walk on wet soil as compaction makes it difficult for roots to grow.

A excellent useful home and garden suggestion would be to use a plank when walking on ground adjacent to work areas to allow distribution of weight. A wide fork is a fantastic instrument to use to aerate soil without disturbing its complicated structures. Use useful home and garden ideas to produce organic mulch to discourage growth of weeds. Stabilize and keep soil temperatures and observe how you water the soil. Too much watering is harmful to vegetation and causes acute fungal diseases. A helpful home and garden suggestion would be to water plants in the daytime so that they dry throughout the day.

An organized regime for plant maintenance

A daily check on unnecessary and pests expansion is essential if you intend to make a better home garden. Pull weeds out and use protectors to make sure there are no unnecessary plants and twigs cluttering up the space. Use insect repellant sprays and medications to be certain that the plants stay healthy and devoid of slugs and aphids. Push burlap into position and remove dried grass and twigs with embedded roots. 

[iamthechocobabe]

A True Nightmare

*Deep deep sigh* 

So...yes, I am aware that I may be getting hate for this. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to include Ari in this story-she feels very personal to me and I can only hope I’ll do justice by her.

As for who Ari is, or what I’m talking about...guess you’ll just have to find out. 

Hopefully, the senpais won’t hate me for bugging them: @roses-and-oceans @bespectacled-girl @cupnoodle-queen @themissimmortal @nifwrites @gladiolus-mamacitia 

A True Nightmare A Soulmate AU based on Ardyn’s History-based on this post I made awhile back.  This is NOT an Ardyn love story. 

~Chapter 1~ SFW Word Count: 1,519

"And no matter what, you cannot put mud in Aranea's hair. She'll kill me-Ari, are you listening to me?" 

Mallory Moon looked away from the roads of Tenebrae at her younger sister as she scribbled in her sketchbook-Mallory could never tell if Ari glancing up at her occasionally meant that she was listening or if she was just drawing, though judging by the sketch of Mallory driving, it was clear Ari was drawing. 

"Ari, did you hear me?" 

Making a grunting noise, Ari's eyebrows dipped down slightly as she huddled in the front seat with the sketchbook close to her chest as she continued to scribble. Normal people would have thought this was a blatant show that the sixteen year old was ignoring her, but Mallory knew that it was Ari's way of showing that she was listening. 

Most people assumed that Ari and Mallory weren't related, partially because of their fourteen year age difference, but mostly because of their difference in appearances, with Ari's short copper brown hair compared to Mallory's long, inky black hair, Ari's dark brown eyes to Mallory's emerald green eyes, olive toned skin to pale porcelain skin. They were practically opposites in every way. 

"Hnh," Ari made the same grunting noise as she always did, the tip of her tongue stuck to her mouth as she looked at Mallory expectantly, though she never made eye contact with anyone. 

"What?" Straightening the grey wool beanie on her head, Mallory tried to focus on the road even as Ari tried to grab at her arm. "What, Ari?" 

"HNNNNNH," Ari tried to tell Mallory what she wanted by slamming the palm of her right hand against her left shoulder, looking and pointing at Mallory's left side of her body. 

"Oh," It didn't take long to figure out what Ari wanted, so Mallory rolled her eyes, shifted in her seat slightly and moved the sleeve of her hot pink tank top so her star shaped soulmate mark on her left shoulder showed prominent. "How's that?" 

"Nnh," Ari smiled and set back to work-if there was one thing she loved doing, it was drawing Mallory's soulmate mark, loving how perfect her stars always were since Ari started off not doing so well with stars. Mallory didn’t like the mark as much, mostly because she thought the star was so simple and tacky. She remembered how friends had soulmate marks in the shapes of fangs, talons, suns-not something as simple as a star. 

Smiling a little at her younger sister, Mallory focused again as she zipped through the roads in her beat up old car to the trainstop that Aranea had asked to meet her at. Mallory really didn't want to accept a job when the word was getting closer and closer to shit everyday, with nights getting longer and daylight getting shorter, but rent was due and Mallory needed money. Besides, there was no one Mallory trusted more with Ari than Aranea, knowing that Aranea had the skills and capacity of taking care of her. 

Ari was adorable, but she was also a handful. 

Pulling into the train station, Mallory held Ari's arm as they exited the car and walked towards the large train that Mallory knew had seen battle. Bullet holes were in one side of the train with a few cars being almost completely gone and Mallory could only guess this had something to do with Aranea's phone call. 

It didn't take long to spot Aranea thanks to her bright silver hair pulled away from her face and Mallory headed for her with Ari in tow. "Hey," 

"There you are," Aranea smiled kindly at her friend and bent down to be eye level with Ari. "How are you, Ari?" 

Ari didn't respond, which wasn't unusual, and began to grow antsy due to the large crowd, bouncing on her feet, looking around her and biting the foreskin by her fingernails. Without needing words to communicate what Ari wanted, Mallory dropped her arm and nodded towards a patch of grass to the left. "Don't go far," 

Ari shoved her sketchbook and pencil case into Mallory's hands and began pacing back and forth in the grass, waving her hands and occasionally smiling and crying out as she made babbling noises to herself. Some people began to stare, but Mallory knew Ari couldn't understand what she was doing was considered odd by others-besides, if anyone so much as looked at Ari funny, Mallory was on them in a second. 

Then they'd have wished they minded their own business. 

"How is she?" Aranea asked softly, watching as Ari began to grow a small audience of spectators at her unusual behavior. 

Shaking her head, Mallory tried to rub the worry out of her temples unsuccessfully. "Anxious-she knows the world's going to shit because it got dark too quickly today. And she's been drawing a lot more than usual," 

"Did she draw that today?" Aranea pointed at the sketch of Mallory driving the car, her body turned slightly and her tank top strap slid slightly off her shoulder to show her soulmate mark. Ari always did manage to portray Mallory almost perfectly, highlighting Mallory's high cheekbones, her extremely thin body, her cropped black hair that was short on one side, but down to her shoulder on the other. 

"Well, it certainly wasn’t me," Mallory closed the sketchbook and laid it down on a table nearby. "You know I can't draw for shit-so, what are you up to? Something to do with all of this?" 

"Something like that-I guess you can say I'm helping with a relief effort ever since Lunafreya was murdered," 

"Okay, that's funny-" Mallory stopped giggling when she saw the serious face on Aranea and how everyone around was dead silent, melancholic over the loss of their beloved oracle. "You...you're serious?" 

"Uh, in case you haven't noticed, there's not going to be daylight soon?" Aranea gestured around her as she looked over some plans on a table. "What's exactly going to happen to all these people when daemon's roam Eos?" 

"HNNNNH" A familiar loud grunt interrupted Mallory's thoughts as Ari began to panic at how a little girl was invading her personal space by trying to go up to Ari. When the little girl looked at Mallory with confusion, Mallory sent the kid a withering glare, the little girl only needing half a second to get the message and leave Ari alone. 

"In case you haven't noticed," Mallory said with a nod towards Ari, who had gone back to pacing. "I have enough to worry about with Ari and rent due-the land lords don't seem to care that the world's ending," 

"Which is why these people have me," Aranea said with a small smile, patting Mallory's shoulder. "I didn't mean anything by it," 

"I know," Mallory sighed deeply and leaned against the table. "I'm just nervous about leaving her again..."

"What's the matter, you don't trust me?" 

"I trust you-it's everyone else I don't trust," The little girl from before once again tried to go up to Ari, causing Ari to begin to yell and pound her fists against her head. Before Mallory could interject, the little girl's mother came and grabbed her, pulling her away from Ari with harsh whispers. 

"They don't know any better," Aranea breathed out through her nose and focused on the papers on her desk again. "But Ari's a lot tougher then you give her credit for...are you sure about this?" 

Mallory looked over at a young boy approaching, the one hope for salvation and the world. Aranea wouldn't have asked Mallory to escort the Prince into Niflheim unless it was important, and Mallory knew...she knew this was something she had to do. If not for Eos, then for Ari. 

Mallory knew that if Eos was surrounded with darkness, Ari would never be able to survive. 

"I'm sure,"

Ardyn Izunia observed careully at the monitors of the train station in Tenebrae. It had taken much longer than normal to patch the security cameras through since they had been shut off, but Ardyn wanted to see-make sure that he was on his way. And when he saw the Prince walking towards two women, one Aranea Highwind, he knew it was only a matter of time for the Prince to arrive. And Ardyn knew he would come-dear old Noct's best friend's life was depending on it. 

Ardyn stretched his hand out to shut the monitors off, pleased that it was all going according to plan when his whole body froze. Shut down completely as the young girl with cropped shoulder length black hair turned and bent over to talk to a younger girl sitting in the grass. 

Leaning forward, Ardyn held his breath...his eyes were playing tricks on him again. Every girl with black hair he ever met, Ardyn thought was her. Wondered if maybe he could actually keep his promise after all. But deep down he knew, he knew that she would just turn out to be some random girl like the others....

Except she wasn't. 

Ardyn rarely showed surprise, but he couldn't contain his gasp when she turned forward, showing her face to the camera. Zooming in the camera, Ardyn watched as a face so familiar to him, a face that haunted his every waking moment, walked towards the train. The same emerald green eyes, the same cheekbones, the same nose and heart shaped lips-

Breathing a shaky sigh, Ardyn could almost swore he felt tears in his eyes at the grace and beauty he remembered so well and whispered only one word. 

"Aryelle,"

[lrfya]

Little Rock River Market MysterYAy Hike!

Hi, I’m Macy from The Truth about Forever. Today, I’ll be your guide on a Mystery Hike in downtown Little Rock, in what we call The River Market! I’m not a paid tour guide – I am doing this for extra credit – so tips will be greatly appreciated! We have started here at the Main Library for the Central Arkansas Library System because I work here at the information desk, so please feel free to stop by and see me any time. I also work a second job in the River Market, so I’m sort of an expert.

I’ve positioned a bunch of my YA friends in locations around the River Market. You’ll recognize them from some of your favorite books. Find a YA character you know, and they’ll tell you about the location they’re in! Let’s go!

(Psst - throughout this hike, my commentary will be in bold.)

SIMON SPIER and BEX PORTER

Hey! I’m Simon from Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda, and this is Bex from The Royal We. We’re hanging out at the Ron Robinson Theater for Terror Tuesdays, when they show vintage horror movies for $2 admission. This week’s showing is Rocky Horror Picture Show!

CELAENA SARDOTHIEN

Hi friends, I’m Celaena from the Throne of Glass books. Next door to the Ron Robinson Theater is one of my favorite clothing boutiques, Fringe.

Now that you’ve met a couple of my friends, you’re off to a great start! Let’s take a lunch break at one of my favorite music venues – Sticky’z Rock’n’Roll Chicken Shack. Come back tomorrow to catch Brilliant or Catastrophic’s show - you probably heard about them in Saint Anything. Let’s head across the street - I see a couple of familiar faces.

CRICKET BELL AND NATASHA KINGSLEY

You made it! This building is the Museum of Discovery, and it’s filled with lots of really cool science exhibits. We’re always tinkering around in here. Cricket from Lola and the Boy Next Door loves to see Kevin Delaney do experiments (you might’ve seen him on Jimmy Fallon!) while I, Natasha from The Sun is Also a Star, loves the human body exhibits.

Let’s grab a cup of coffee before we go to the next spot. I love Zeteo Coffee next door – looks like Gansey & Co. from The Raven Cycle are here. They hang out here a lot, but it’s odd that they always order five drinks even though there’s only four of them. On to the next stop!

JAM from BELZHAR and PRISCILLA from BONE GAP

Welcome to the Heifer International World Headquarters! Heifer International is a charity organization working to end hunger and poverty around the world by providing livestock and training to struggling communities in third world countries. I’m Jam, and I help out with the goats here, and Priscilla takes care of the bees.

Here we are at the William J. Clinton Presidential Library and Museum. This is where I work my second part-time job, helping cater events for Wish Catering. The current exhibit at the library is “Xtreme Bugs.”

WAVERLY CAMDENMAR

Hey guys! I’m Waverly, and I’m currently getting my prom photos taken on the Clinton Pedestrian Bridge, where lots of people come to take photos. This bridge connects the trails known as the Arkansas River Trail. I run this all the time with my friend Jessica Darling, and sometimes Macy joins us. It’s 17 miles and connects Little Rock and North Little Rock (which are two different cities separated by the Arkansas River, rather than two parts of the same city).

WILLOW from COUNTING BY 7S

If you follow the Arkansas River Trail along the river, it leads you to the Arkansas Nature Center. It focuses on all of the outdoor recreational things that Arkansas’s fish and wildlife resources provide. I’m Willow, and I’m obsessed with nature, so I intern here part time.

ARIEL from ROSES AND ROT

This is the First Security Amphitheater. It’s the main stage of Riverfest, a music festival held here, and is used for various other events and performances, like my vocal performance tonight!

Here’s La Petite Roche Plaza. This rock outcropping is one of the most important landmarks in Arkansas. Early travelers on their way up the river noticed that this rock marked the transition from the alluvial lands of the East to the rugged hills of the Ozarks and Ouachitas. The rock afforded a natural landing for boats. This is how Little Rock got it’s name!

ANNA OLIPHANT

Right behind La Petite Roche is the Junction Bridge. This is for pedestrian and bicycle use and it links both sides of the Arkansas River Trail. It is an integral part of our skyline. Me and my boyfriend Etienne put a padlock on this bridge to remember our days in Paris. 

JACK from THE ANATOMICAL SHAPE OF A HEART

Nearby is the Medical Mile – an artistic expression of health. It includes a 1,300 foot three-dimensional mural wall, a wellness promenade with artful displays, as well as a Body-Mind-Spirit entry plaza. I helped paint the mural.

Next up is my favorite part – the Vogel Schwartz Sculpture Garden. This is home to dozens of sculptures in the River Market district. New sculptures are voted on annually to add to the collection, and my boyfriend Wes makes amazing angels out of scrap metal and has a sculpture entered into the competition. Let’s head down to the Old State House Museum next.

BEATRIX from THE ANATOMICAL SHAPE OF A HEART

Right now, the Old House State Museum is hosting a “Cabinet of Curiosities” exhibit – kind of a greatest hits collection of weird Arkansas artifacts. It is very diverse – there’s everything from dinosaur toes to Ming Dynasty pottery. I’ve been coming every day to sketch some oddball anatomy pieces.

FAIR FINLEY from WILFAIR

Howdy! I’m Fair, and I grew up managing my parents’ hotels. They have hotels all over the world so I’m a bit of an expert, and The Capital Hotel in Little Rock is one of my favorites. It’s really old and grand - the balcony that overlooks the road here is called the “Front Porch of Little Rock.” Rumor has it, the elevators are humongous because they were built to accommodate Robert E. Lee...and his horse.

CATH from FANGIRL and JOSH WASSERSTEIN from ISLA AND THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER

The Statehouse Convention Center hosts all of our biggest events, including the Little Rock Comic Con – as you can guess, we are always in attendance. I love to dress up in Simon Snow cosplay. Josh is a little too cool for that and mostly just comes to get his comics autographed.

Let’s head back towards the library, there’s many things on President Clinton Avenue to point out.

LARA JEAN SONG

Here’s the H.U. Lee International Gate and Garden, a tribute to the founder of the American Taewondo Association which also educates people about Korean culture and salutes the martial arts.

WYLAN from SIX OF CROWS

Across from the farmer’s market are many bars, restaurants, and shops. You’ll find many people you know working or shopping here. There’s the piano bar Ernie Biggs – it has dueling pianos, and the best night to go is when I duel against Seraphina. Here’s Revolution Room, a club music venue – next week The Mortal Instruments from City of Heavenly Fire plays, you should definitely try to make that show.

DILL from THE SERPENT KING

Here’s a downtown Little Rock favorite bar – the Flying Saucer. They have all kinds of beer on tap and have acoustic shows on the weekend. Lately I’ve been bringing my guitar and playing to get used to a crowd. Also, Lia from The Kiss of Deception picks up shifts here from time to time, to stay grounded.

BLUE SARGENT

This is a tiny little spot on President Clinton Avenue where my mom and various aunts and cousins do palm and tarot card readings. Come in if you feel like learning some things about yourself!

Here’s the Little Rock Farmer’s Market. This is where my boyfriend Wes was discovered selling his angel sculptures, so it will always have a magical quality to me. It has two outdoor open-air pavilions overlooking Riverfront Park and the Arkansas River. It has Arkansas crops as well as vendors selling their homemade arts and crafts.

And now we’re back at the library and your mystery hike is complete! Hope you had fun exploring downtown Little Rock and meeting all my YA friends!

[gadgetsrevv]

Czech Republic vs England live stream: How to watch Euro 2020 qualifier online and on TV

England face the Czech Republic on Friday looking to confirm their place in Euro 2020 next summer. 

Gareth Southgate’s side currently sit at the top of group A, six points clear of the Czechs who sit in second place.

The two sides have already gone head-to-head this year, where England emerged with a resounding 5-0 victory.

We’ll tell you what’s true. You can form your own view.

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But the Czechs have turned their score lines around since this meeting, winning three of their following four games and placing themselves second in Group A.

A second victory would leave the Three Lions untouchable; they would be six points clear, with Czech Republic only having two games remaining.

left Created with Sketch. right Created with Sketch.

1/23 Jordan Pickford

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2/23 Nick Pope

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3/23 Tom Heaton

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4/23 Trent Alexander-Arnold

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5/23 Aaron Wan-Bissaka

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6/23 Ben Chilwell

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7/23 Danny Rose

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8/23 Harry Maguire

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9/23 John Stones

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10/23 Joe Gomez

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11/23 Tyrone Mings

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12/23 Declan Rice

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13/23 Harry Winks

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14/23 Jordan Henderson

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15/23 Dele Alli

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16/23 James Maddison

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17/23 Mason Mount

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18/23 Jadon Sancho

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19/23 Marcus Rashford

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20/23 Raheem Sterling

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21/23 Callum Hudson-Odoi

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22/23 Harry Kane

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23/23 Tammy Abraham

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1/23 Jordan Pickford

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2/23 Nick Pope

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3/23 Tom Heaton

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4/23 Trent Alexander-Arnold

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5/23 Aaron Wan-Bissaka

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6/23 Ben Chilwell

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7/23 Danny Rose

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8/23 Harry Maguire

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9/23 John Stones

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10/23 Joe Gomez

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11/23 Tyrone Mings

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12/23 Declan Rice

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13/23 Harry Winks

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14/23 Jordan Henderson

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15/23 Dele Alli

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16/23 James Maddison

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17/23 Mason Mount

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18/23 Jadon Sancho

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19/23 Marcus Rashford

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20/23 Raheem Sterling

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21/23 Callum Hudson-Odoi

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22/23 Harry Kane

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23/23 Tammy Abraham

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When is it?

Kick-off is at 7:45 PM BST on Friday 11th October

How can I watch it?

The match will be broadcast on ITV1.

You can also live stream the match via ITV HUB Live on a range of devices, including laptops, smartphones and tablets.

Team news

Southgate left many senior internationals, including Dele Alli, Eric Dier, Kyle Walker and Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain out of his squad for Friday’s game.

The England boss has instead chosen to play a younger side, with Chelsea duo Tammy Abraham and Fikayo Tomori set for their international debuts.

Fabian Delph has withdrawn from the England Squad and will miss the Euro 2020 qualifier due to a hamstring injury he picked up during Everton’s 1-0 Premier League loss at Burnley on Saturday.

Predicted line-up

Pickford, Chilwell, Maguire, Mings, Trippier, Henderson, Maddison, Mount. Sterling, Sancho, Kane

Odds

England are the favourites in this meeting with Paddy Power backing them 4/11.

If you predict a surprise defeat for England, a Czech Republic victory can be backed for odds of 6/1.

For a draw you can get odds of 4/1.  

Prediction

The last time the two sides met, England dominated with a 5-0 victory over the Czech Republic. The Czech side have been inconsistent in their five qualifier matches so far, picking up three wins and suffering two defeats whilst the Three Lions have a clean slate. But Jaroslav Silhavy’s side have won six of their last eight qualifiers on home soil, losing just once to Turkey in 2015, and the side will be looking to continue this which could make the clash hard for England.

England will win this game, and should dominate over the Czech Republic.

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