#dark/white hair. gold eyes. other colors in his palette include red and purple

[pianostarinwonderland]

What are your thoughts about Azul and Jamil’s dynamic and what do you think would happen if Jamil is sorted in Octavinelle?

I love Azul and Jamil’s dynamic!! It’s one of the things that I think about really often, and asking me this is asking to open a can of worms because I have much to say on this.

Jamil may deny it, but Azul isn’t wrong that both of them are similar. They’re both talented – Jamil possibly even more so – and they both like showing off to the world. However, their circumstances is what sets them apart.

Azul and Jamil have such opposing color palettes. Azul has light silver hair, Jamil has black hair. Azul has fair skin, Jamil has dark skin. Azul’s eyes are a shade of blue that’s on the lighter side, Jamil’s eyes are dark grey. Azul’s dorm clothes consist of cool blues and purples with blacks and a bit of white from the polo. Jamil’s dorm clothes use a combination of reds, golds, and blacks. 

Aside from color, there are also other physical features they have that clash. Azul’s hair is short and wavy, while Jamil’s is long and straight. Azul’s clothes cover himself up while Jamil’s clothes are light and airy, leaving his arms uncovered. Furthermore, and probably the most important detail about them physically: Azul’s clothes are meant to show who is the one in power. This is canon, as he says in his dorm SSR that when he puts on his dorm uniform, his dorm members respect him more. Jamil’s clothes, however, are meant to conceal himself, with him wearing a hoodie in not just the dorm uniform but also in the school uniform. 

And that contrast shows in their personality. Azul is someone who doesn’t exactly hide his talents but rather, he shows them off for the world to see. Jamil, on the other hand, hides his talents, and he takes extra care to not draw unwanted attention to himself. One brags, the other hides. It’s one of the main differences between Azul and Jamil. 

However, at their core, they both have the same kind of ego that likes to show the world what they can do. Azul likes to brag about his strength and talents so that he can show how powerful he is and that he is not someone who can be stepped on. Jamil wants to brag for the same reason, that he wants to show everyone what he can really do.

But why does one show off while the other hides? 

Simple. This is the other main difference between the two of them: Azul is free to do what he likes to do. He isn’t trapped by any sort of hierarchy, so he has the freedom to mold himself into what he can be. Jamil, on the other hand, isn’t free. He was born into servitude from the beginning of his life, and until Kalim can set him free, Jamil can’t really do much. 

This core difference that they have is very much connected to the opposing color palettes that they have. See how Azul’s color palette is blue while Jamil’s is red? 

Don’t they remind you of 

Azul represents the blue genie, the genie that Aladdin had. Both Azul and the blue genie granted wishes, but most importantly, the genie was set free by Aladdin at the end of the movie, reflecting the freedom Azul has. The main story seems to show this representation as well because in chapter 4–30, Jamil calls Azul his “genie in the lamp”, referencing the scene where Jafar took Aladdin’s lamp and became the new master of the genie. 

Jamil represents the red genie, the genie that Jafar became. Aside from the fact that Jamil is twisted off from Jafar, which would include his genie self, Jafar became trapped in the lamp, forced to serve a new master, by the end of the movie because of Aladdin, reflecting the lack of freedom Jamil has. 

Now, as to what could happen if Jamil got sorted into Octavinelle, well for one, F for him. But I’d like to think that perhaps he can finally find someone who will understand him. Someone who understands his desire to show off and someone who wishes for him to show those talents off. Even if Azul is shady af, I think he could be a good influence for Jamil, if circumstances can allow them to actually talk to each other where they can’t show animosity.

[ribbonetteart]

I redesigned Rouge!

A LOT of notes about her redesign below:

Again, much like the Cream redesign, I’d like to start with the disclaimer that I don’t hate Rouge’s current design! I think her current look is cute but I did take some issue with it here and there, and here was the checklist I had in mind when redesigning her:

Put some red on her! Her name is ROUGE

Ditch the jumpsuit. I get the impression that the “sexier” aspects of Rouge make her appear older than she is, so I wanted to try making her look more like she’s 18.

Wing arms!!! There’s nothing wrong with putting the wings on her back but I wanted to emphasize her being a bat.

Give her a new alt outfit. In Sonic Heroes, Rouge got a new outfit that was quickly retired. I wanted to give her a debut outfit and a new outfit that would stick around.

Switch out the heart motif for a diamond motif. I think the heart motif is cute! But I think making diamonds Rouge’s thing is more fitting since she loves jewels more than anything.

Rouge’s Body

The 1st reference sheet is Rouge’s bare body. She’s still got white fur, but her body is gray. I actually came to the decision to give her gray body fur last-minute; I wanted to give her a white belt in her 2nd outfit, but her white midriff made the 2 things blend and I needed some contrast. I drew (ba-dum-tssh) lots of inspiration from Honduran white bats, and thus I gave her a little bat nose and smoky colored wings (I actually wanted a more gray-ish purple wing color, but my scanner gave me this gray instead. the gray-purple is more noticeable in the other reference sheet though).

I gave her a furry body because I thought it was weird that other Sonic character’s bodies had fur and Rouge was just all skin, save for her head. She has chest fur now because I thought it made her look more like a bat and because I’m not that comfortable with an 18 year old baring visible cleavage all the time, so this hit 2 birds with one stone. I kept her arms and legs furless, again, to make her look more like a Honduran white bat. I also wanted some more body diversity within the sonic cast, so I gave Rouge a plumper body and wider legs since she usually uses her legs in combat.

I wanted to keep her skin tone similar to the one she has in Sonic Adventure 2, but I ditched the eye color. I really wanted to put some red on her somewhere since her name is Rouge, and making it her eye color means that she has red on her all the time, so I thought it was perfect. On one final note regarding her body, she’s got visible nails now! Her old, beta name before it was “Rouge” was “Nails”, and I imagine she uses her nails for digging or combat so I made them more prominent.

Rouge’s Clothes

“That Government Spy Rouge the Bat”: SA2 G.U.N. Agent Rouge

Her 1st outfit would be her outfit in her debut appearance while she’s an agent for G.U.N. I still wanted her outfit to look trendy without looking too much like a uniform as she is supposed to be an undercover agent in SA2. The decision to use a blue analogous palette was to make it look even more like a police uniform.

Her gloves are short, half gloves. With arms on her wings, obviously her opera gloves weren’t gonna fit comfortably. The cropped gloves fit more comfortably on her hands without bothering her wings.

Rouge’s uniform is a sleeveless turtleneck and a “skort”, or, shorts with a skirt on it. The skirt flap has a pocket where she stores anything that won’t fit on her utility belt.

She’s also got piercings now! I think they suit her for someone who’s obsessed with jewels.

Her boots aren’t flashy, but they’re a chunky heel with metal soles to pack a harder wallop in her kicks.

Fly in the Freedom: Post SA2 Rouge

With this design comes with a bit of a rewrite. Rouge no longer works under G.U.N., free-lancing or not. After the events of SA2, she’s quit and gone on to do her own thing (however she’s still a grade A thief).

Overall, her new post SA2 look is rather asymmetrical compared to her more uniform look in the 1st design. I thought the asymmetry would convey her new rebellious, independent status and contrast more with the uniform she sported prior to when she took order from G.U.N.

I wanted this design to look more cohesive with team dark. Her Sonic Heroes outfit made her stick out from the other team members as she had a more purple and pink color palette compared to Shadow and Omega’s red, black, and gold. For her palette, I wanted to incorporate more of those colors to really make her look like the leader of Team Dark. The reds are mostly located on her diamond motifs, and the gold on her is on any metal she’s adorning.

Her outfit includes a cropped leather jacket, dark purple-ish black form fitting pants, white knee high boots, and white leather utility belt and cropped fingerless gloves. Since she no longer has a skirt flap or pocket to store extra items, I gave a her a little fanny pack at the back of her belt. I gave her a cropped jacket to make her look a little more rebellious, seeing as her teammates are rebels of their own. The leader of an edgy team has gotta look edgy herself, I figured! The dark make up is also to help with her new, bold and edgy look.I also wanted to show off Rouge’s chest fur and the deep V neck of the jacket does that well!

I thought Rouge’s heart boots were cute, but since I’m replacing her heart motif with diamonds, I wanted to adjust it to fit the diamond motif. She’s now got diamonds at the toe of her boots as well as the sole. I made them wedge heels because I imagine they’re easier to run in.

Inventory

On her utility belt, she’s got a flip phone: good for quick contact and disposal. She also has a few pouches, probably to hold smoke bombs or something. I also wanted her to keep her treasure scope from SA2, so it’s also got a place on her belt.

Other inventory items include her compact, perfect for touching up her make up or finding pesky lasers (which is a spy trope I think? It’s probably not scientifically sound but whatever it helps her find lasers).

And of course, Rouge’s bat bomb! It functions much the same as Rouge’s bombs have throughout the series (Sonic Battle, Sonic 06, Sonic Forces: Speed Battle), I just adjusted its appearance to reflect this redesign.

I also decided while I was at it to take the guns away from Shadow and give them to Rouge; I don’t see why the ultimate life form needs a fire arm when he can shoot powerful concentrated beams of energy from his hands while the secret agent (who is more likely to be equipped with that kind of weapon) would be without it. She has her pea shooter on her leg holster concealed by her boots (Which is why I tried making her boots a bit bigger than her legs as opposed to being tight fitting).

Hair

Finally, Rouge has got some new hairstyles! For her SA2 look, I wanted to keep the trademark Yuji Uekawa spiky hair he tends to draw on his sonic characters, but I definitely wanted to change her hairstyle; I just personally wasn’t a fan of her current style. I wanted something that looked mature and chic, so I gave her a layered bob. It’s also symmetrical to fit the uniform look she’s wearing.

And Rouge gets another haircut for her post SA2 look! It’s much wavier, and she’s got bangs now. For this style, I was inspired by 1. the Finger Waves hairstyle, 2. those little curlicues that agent Honeydew has from Dexter’s Laboratory, and 3. Marilyn Monroe’s curly hair. I wanted to add some elegance to Rouge’s look and I think the curly hair really brings that aspect of her character out.

If you’ve made it to the end of all of this then like holy crap thank you so much for reading all of this and I love you

[korporxie]

how it starts.

Lots of people explain their maturity and strength and their wisdom by virtue - or vice - of having grown up quickly. For reasons beyond their control, they had to shoot upwards in emotional and mental years while physically, they stayed the same. I have no such story, I suppose. I grew up at the proper pace, and wanted for very little as a child. Maybe the lack of want made me even more immature than many other children. There were many parts of me, I think, that were unfortunately naive to the world around me. 

So no. I cannot say that I grew up quickly and gained wisdom from it, but I can say that I was shocked out of my blissful youth at age twenty with a hot iron and a sort of desperation that belongs only to those with a knife to their throat. My maturity came by force, by necessity, by a drive to survive and ensure that the people around me survived, too. 

That is not to say, however, that I knew everything I needed to know in a night. There were lessons to be learned the hard way. When my family was cast from the High Houses and sent to trial, with shackles that weren’t needed to keep my siblings and I still, kneeling on cold stone and praying, I hardly knew a thing at all. I knew music, and literature, and manners, and I knew that these things happened, but never to us. It could never be us. Right? We see the nightmares and we frown and we feel pity but we feel so certain that it could never be us standing on the chopping block.

Not until we are.

Claude Sinclair is an old, wealthy man, the Sinclair family an offshoot of House Durendaire. He’s been a widower ever since I was a young child, and he had always been beloved for being a talented artist with both words and paint. Many members of the High Houses had his paintings hung in their high homes. My own family had commissioned him for a painting of my mother while she was still on stage, glittering in rhinestone covered fabric and diamond jewelry. 

We had to sell it for half its original price in order to pay for a few of our meals, but I digress. 

When we became disgraced, Monsieur Sinclair came to call on me specifically, and at the time I was touched. Few people from the High Houses wanted anything to do with us. It was social suicide. We had dodged execution by a miracle and a miracle only, but we had not - and will never - be allowed back our place in society. But Monsieur Sinclair, it seemed, was empathetic to our plight. He walked to rickety home in the Brume and asked to walk with him with a smile on his face, telling me he had an opportunity for me to make some money.

Considering our circumstances - which included selling all of our worldly possessions to pay off debts - I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at anything. And why couldn’t I trust Monsieur Sinclair? I had known him since, well... since birth. He had already taken Hugo in as his personal attorney and financial advisor at that point, rescuing us before we could fall too deeply into a pit of poverty.

Surely if he had an opportunity for me then it would be just as appealing and dignified. Wouldn’t it?

“I have been meaning to hire a new housemaid, Odette,” he told me as we wove our way out of the Brume, and I blinked, but I did not balk. It stood to reason that this was one of my options. 

“I see. Is that what you came to talk to me about, monsieur?” 

“Ah, well, I suppose. But you’ve grown up so prettily, Odette. You are marvelously beautiful, you know this? Even more beautiful than your mother was at your age. Like... Like one of the muses of myth, come to life. Better than Menphina,” he added in a whisper, like the goddess couldn’t hear him, and I even smiled at the joke.

I smiled at the fucking joke.

“You are kind, Monsieur Sinclair, and generous with your praise, but I don’t need to be pretty to be a maid. It only stands to reason that I would need to be hardworking and reliable, no?” I asked, tilting my head, and he hummed a little at that before gesturing for me to follow him down a street that I wouldn’t usually wouldn’t take - not anymore.

It was a road that lead back up to the High Houses.

Monsieur Sinclair could clearly sense my hesitation, because now my skirts were not fine. They were of rough and unattractive wool that itched, but not as much as the rough wool socks I wore did. All of them, though, marked me - they marked me, although they shouldn’t have, because I was no lesser than I ever was. Those in the Brume were not lesser. But it is Ishgard’s way, I suppose.

“Come, mon trésor. You will be safe with me. You have my word.”

Mon trésor. My treasure. I thought little of it. He was an elderly man known for his romantic writings and romantic paintings and romantic way of speech. He was warm and familiar with all who interacted with him. Truth be told, I was quite fond of Monsieur Sinclair. He had given Olivier a great deal of advice, had always read over his poems and manuscripts and provided feedback in earnest.

There was no reason to not trust this man who had watched me go from child to teenager to young woman, who was now extending a hand out to my family in order to aid us in our time of need. 

Did I not say that I was shocked out of such blissful naiveté, though? 

“It is a shame that you will not be able to dance and perform as you once did, mademoiselle. To know that you were headlining a show always ensured a front row seat for me,” he lamented as he walked the winding paths with me keeping my head down, trying to trail after him as a servant might to avoid attention.

“Ah, monsieur, twenty is a bit old for ballet, anyhow. I was beginning to outgrow those leading roles. They’d soon start casting me as la matrone,” I joked, and he laughed, and I smiled because he’d like the joke. “But, monsieur... What is it that we have to talk about that I must go to your home...?”

His home was grand. Of course it was. He preferred dark, dramatic interiors to the lighter ones that I was used to. Maman adored wide open windows that let plenty of sunlight in, and light curtains that didn’t block it out. Our furniture was light, too, and the walls were painted pale yellows and greens and purples and pinks and blues. But Monsieur Sinclair had a flair for a different sort of dramatic, I suppose, with his rich, dark reds and dark browns and brocades in gold and black along his walls.

Servants bowed and curtsied to us as we walked inside, until they caught sight of my face - and then many of them looked a little confused, unsure if they should be bowing or curtseying to me at all. I wanted to tell them not to, as I always had, but something in me was beginning to feel that something was... off.

Maybe it had to do with how Monsieur Sinclair would merely chuckle or titter when I asked him questions until we got to his studio. 

“I’d like you to sit for a painting for me, Odette,” he said, closing the heavy wooden door behind me, and I fought to shake off this odd feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. 

“A painting...?”

“Oh, yes. You are the loveliest creature I have set my eyes on. How could I never paint you?”

“You have,” I began, and he waved a hand as he stepped through the messy studio. Canvases laid on the floor which was covered by thick white tarps, brushes overflowing in cups filled with colorful dirty water. The room spelled of oils, with more than a few splatters of color against the walls, as if someone had thrown an entire palette. 

“Not like that, not like that. Not a family portrait or one specially done to hang over a mantle, you see? Something of... of substance! Art, mon trésor! One of you, Odette. Just of you. One like... One like... Let’s see here...” 

I stood still as a statue as this old man - still in his thick jacket from walking outside in the bitter cold of winter - began to look through tarp-covered paintings leaned up against the wall. Someone knocked on the door, and I startled, but Monsieur Sinclair called for them to come back later, and I heard the footsteps disappear back down the hall, and we were alone again.

Leave, I thought. Trust your gut. Shouldn’t you trust your gut if something feels wrong? Tell him you have to go, and--...

“One like this!” the old man said brightly, and he stepped away from the wall with the canvas he had selected, smiling broadly while I stared.

The painting was... crude. It was beautifully done, I suppose, but it was crude all the same. It was of a woman of about my figure and size laying on her back, fully nude, with her legs spread and head thrown back, pleasuring herself with her fingers. Her mouth was open in apparent ecstacy, sweat beading along her skin, her dark hair undone and clinging to her shoulders.

“Monsieur--!” I began, horrified, and he started to laugh as he turned back to look at me.

“Exquisite, isn’t it? And how more exquisite - how more exquisite, mon trésor, if I was able to paint you just the same. No... No, not the same. You are so beautiful, Odette. You would transcend my abilities as an artist. To capture you would be to capture something heavenly. A sin, perhaps, for me to even try, but if it is sin that I am tempted into--”

“Monsieur!” I said again, louder, feeling my eyes shaking as I met his gaze, but... What else could I say? How could I have expected this? He had known me since I was a child. How could he ever-- how could he think--?

“My girl, you are as pale as a sheet now,” he said, laughing, and the laughter felt mocking. “You are not a little girl anymore, are you? Does such a painting truly shock you? I can hardly believe it would, after your upbringing with your mother, and I’ve seen how those young gentlemen chase after you. This cannot be new to you, can it? Or are you more pure than you seem?”

It felt like I had entered some terrible dream sequence. An hour ago I was merrily greeting who I thought was an old family friend, and now I was in his house, staring at a painting that he refused to tuck away and listening to him make assumptions of how pure or impure I might be, being asked to pose for just such a portrait, and...

“This is entirely out of line and disastrously inappropriate,” I said, breathless, forcing myself to look away from the painting and back at Monsieur Sinclair. “I am grateful, sir, for all you have done for my family, but this-- this is simply too much. You asked me to be your housemaid--”

“I did. And I stand by it. But how nice to make some extra money, don’t you think? I’d pay you well to sit and model for me. You know, Odette, I have had eyes for you for the longest time. If I didn’t enjoy my freedom so much, well, I’d be able to fix your tragic situation far more easily than this.”

His eyes glittered, and they were dark and horrible and did not house any of the warmth I used to see in them. In an instant, something had changed. He did not seem doddering or romantic. He seemed wicked. There was something nefarious and wrong in the way this man regarded me.

“I would marry you,” Monsieur Sinclair said, smiling, as he stared at me. “And what a beautiful bride you would be. But, I think, you make a far better muse. There is such sadness in your eyes, my girl. There always has been, ever since you were knee high. You know that? Such a tortured soul. But over what?”

“Thank you for your offer,” I muttered, starting to turn, “but I cannot accept. Not as a housemaid, muse, or your wife. This is madness, monsieur. This is surely some sort of sick joke that I can forget come morning.”

And the bastard, he grabbed my arm. He moved faster than I had ever seen him, and his old hand was on my wrist, and he was preventing me from walking through the door. He was still smiling, but it was... worse. It wasn’t kind.

“I will speak plainly. You are not a stupid girl, nor are you a child, so I won’t dance around the subject. Your brother relies on me for income. No one else would take him in. And did you know that I’ve been helping Olivier get some of his writing published? I wasn’t sure if he’d told you yet. And Philip...”

I could spit. I should have hit him and run. I should have. But I didn’t.

“I offered to pay for the last bit of Philip’s studies at the boy’s school, Odette. Your parents are grateful to me. And how wonderful, wouldn’t it be, to continue working with me? I have been generous. And who else would take in a disgraced family like yours? Hm?”

How long had he been thinking of? How long had he been planning? Had he always wished for this day, where we were vulnerable and could not say no, or was it just a happy coincidence? 

“What are you getting at?” I snapped, and he tightened his grip on my wrist.

“Refuse me, and I will withdraw all of my finances and all of my assistance,” Monsieur Sinclair murmured, still smiling. “You will lose everything. You will be in the Brume, scraping and begging, for the rest of your life. I have connections. I could close your father’s business down. And it is a simple thing, Odette, to clean for me, to come and sit for paintings. Isn’t it?” 

Cruel. Cruel. Evil. Wicked. Shockingly wicked. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Why was he doing this? How? And did anyone else know? Did people know this man’s true character and just chose to never speak of it? He had always known my family. How could he threaten them, now? How could he look me in the eyes and threaten them? 

But I was... naive. I was young. I was scared of the power he now wielded, because I had none to retaliate with. 

There was no saying no. He had trapped me, and I had never felt more idiotic in my whole entire privileged little life. 

“You are evil,” I whispered, and he frowned, letting go of my wrist.

“No, mon trésor. I am giving you chances and choices, because I love you and your family so. But nothing in life comes for free. You are no fool. You understand that now, don’t you?” 

Monsieur Sinclair sighed and took a step back, gesturing to the door, and I grabbed the heavy brass handle immediately. 

“Take a couple of days to think on it, Odette. Ah, but... I’d keep these terms and agreements between us. Your father has a hot temper. If he storms in here, upset over something silly and the Temple Knights got their hands on him again...”

My father. My precious father, laying in the snow and bleeding from the head while Hugo tried to shield my mother from the rest of the blows the night that they were arrested. My mother was screaming, Philip was crying, Olivier had already been knocked out for clocking a Knight in the jaw. There was blood, because my father had never known how to go down quietly.

Because on the Temple Knights had grabbed me by the hair and tried to drag me down the road away from them, and he had acted before he thought, and I thought they had beaten him to death right in front of our eyes. 

“Fuck you,” I breathed, and Monsieur Sinclair chuckled again.

“Only if I’m lucky. I look forward to your return, Odette. You’ll be back,” he added, winking, and I hated him. I hated him so much I could scream and lose my head. I hated him so much for preying on us when we were weak.

I hated him, because we both knew that he was right.

I stormed from the house. I stormed through the High Houses and their winding, sloping roads, and I found a dark alley, and I screamed into my hands until my throat felt like it was bleeding. Betrayal and backstabbing had always been a hallmark of Ishgardian society.

But then again, well... You never think it can happen to you, do you?

[jimmieo635661-blog]

Readying A Resume, Taking Place Job Interviews, Haggling Project Offers & Much More.

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