#drew this quite a while ago and found it while looking through my art folders

[phykoha]

warmth

[magpierrecanarie]

Found the design sheet! Only took me a while to sort through the mess that's my "my stuff 2" folder. I don't even know why I named it that since this laptop is literally my own.

TL;DR: I talk about my Vocaloid Oliver design, show some progress pics and talk more regarding his overall concept.

↓↓ Click here if you'd like to know more! ↓↓

So... if you've been following me for a bit, you'll probably realize that I've changed from posting everyday to posting every other day. Well, about that, it's because I realized that I'll actually run out of artworks at this rate since I'm relatively slow in making art in general.

Which brings me to today's topic! I'd like to talk about some of the process I go through whenever I design a character, or in this case: Oliver.

Like, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm not exactly good at art, sometimes I reuse poses and it ticks me off, othertimes I literally reuse identical character distinctions and it takes me a while before realizing. However, I do always try my best to not have overlapping character designs so that every one of them is unique in their own way. My personal favourite trick is to add something that's awfully big and obvious that makes them look clearly different, even when they're completely shaded over with black (Oliver's tail).

First things first, I try to come up with a doodle with some sort of concept in mind. There were actually a couple more pre-concept art doodles that I made a good 4-5 years ago that isn't included in this post, I'm considering posting it (+ another one I drew up a year ago) in a separate post since it's getting a bit late and I don't feel like digging it up.

Since I'm playing around with an Oliver from a universe where the Vocaloids are an alternate version of their original VPs (more clarification in the previous Oliver fanart), + I mentioned that his specific side-effect was borderlining on life-threatening (also in the previous Oliver post), I decided to draw him as half human, half Nessie the Loch Ness Monster.

There were quite a number of reasons why I chose her compared to other monsters: 1) I've always had the headcannon that the PowerFX Vocaloids were like a big family, not necessarily blood-related but they're spiritually bounded to each other. Since I personally believe that Sweet Ann and Big Al are Oliver's new adoptive parents, I think it'll be nice for him to also be a monster in some way. (+ the amount of Oliver is a monster/half-monster headcannons in the fandom is uhh, hoo boy) 2) Oliver has always reminded me of a sailor. I don't know why and I'm pretty sure his entire costume is based off of a pre-existing choir's outfit, so there's literally no reason for it to have ties to the sea. Maybe it's the colour palette? Or maybe a Vocaloid fanfiction I read a long time ago that I've forgotten since then? Idk, but either way I really like the thought that he came from either a family of sailors or a family that lived close to the sea. 3) Okay, if you know anything about the Loch Ness Monster myth, you'd know that its origin is from Scotland and not you know, Britain, where Oliver's supposedly from. And to that I say, my argument as a South-east Asian is that it's CLOSE ENOUGH... Plus, I don't think there's other Sea Monster myths that are as easily recognizable as Nessie, who ironically enough doesn't even live in the sea, rather, she lives in a fucking lake. But still, the other couple of Sea Monsters/Sea Creatures myths that I think are decently popular are probably the Kraken or the Mermaids + Sirens. The Kraken is eliminated from the selection since this isn't supposed to be the Horror genre LOL, and the Mermaids + Sirens are a bit too far regionally, plus they're a bit basic (sorry to all my Mermaids + Sirens lovers out there) imo.

There are some ugly AF doodles here but it's what you go through when you're me, sadly.

Also, if you noticed but here I finalized the design you saw in the previous Oliver fanart where he was wearing a merge of these two testing designs of his cloak:

The former was partially inspired by the Scottish Kilt Sash, though it's not very obvious since Oli's not Scottish so I just took inspo from the way it's usually framed on one's body. The latter however was inspired by manta rays, they look STUPID as hell and I love them, so as a compromise, I merged the two cloaks together and that's what became of the current one! B)

It's actually getting a bit too long for my laptop to handle so I'll leave it here for now.💀💀

See you on Friday! B) Might be posting an original artwork then so you can look forward to it!

[abbystanaccount]

spontaneous one-shot y’all.... someone requested to me Abby’s reaction when she hears about Owen and Mel being together so I wrote up a little something, I’m very tempted to do a little follow up AU where this snaps Abby to her senses instead of digging herself deeper into that revenge hole, so maybe I’ll do that soon too.

I’ll probably put this on ao3 later, i still haven’t written out their break-up fic lol and I feel like I should put that in the compilation beforehand idk

It was the day after Christmas, Abby hadn’t really celebrated besides gifting trinkets to her closest friends like Manny and Nora. She’d spent the last evening away from people, finally able to read and sleep early in peace while most were off at Christmas parties. 

Abby was digging into her post-workout meal when Manny slid into the bench across from her. He hadn’t joined her in the gym that morning which was fine, he was probably hungover. Abby was going to the gym almost every day now. Getting stronger, becoming a better soldier, and finding Joel Miller, those were the only things that mattered to her now.

“Hey, Chica…” greeted Manny. His tone was weird, something was off. Abby made a face and stared at him as she finished chewing.

“What’s up, Manny?”

“Oh, nothing’s really up.”

“You’re a shit liar, Manny. Just spit it out.”

“Okay,” drawled Manny. He seemed nervous, what did he have to be nervous about? “Well I was at the one Christmas party last night with the Crew and some others. We all missed you there, by the way.”

“Hmm,” hummed Abby. It was kinda awkward between her and the Crew right now. She and Owen broke up three months ago. Maybe they could be friends again at some point but Abby could tell how much Owen would tense up when she entered a room, as if being in her presence anymore caused him pain. At least, it’d been that way for the first month. It was maybe slowly getting better when they ran into each other, but she didn’t want to push it.

“So uh, Owen was there. And Mel.”

“Obviously,” brushed off Abby, taking a swig of water.

“And they went together.”

Abby stopped drinking mid-sip. She put her cup down, Manny couldn’t be serious. “What you mean? Like as a couple?”

“Well, yes. Mel said it was kind of like a first date, couple thing. They kissed too, so uh, yeah.”

Abby was stunned. They fucking wouldn’t. Mel was supposed to be her friend and she swoops in for her ex? Couldn’t Owen find literally anyone else? Abby fucking knew something fishy was going when Mel would stop in all the time after Owen got injured from that molotov cocktail.

Suddenly she felt like the whole room was looking at her. Did everyone know? Feeling her face grow hot, Abby abruptly picked up her tray to leave.

“Hey, c’mon Abs,” tried Manny.

“I’m going back to the room, I can’t be here.” Her and Manny had recently moved in together as roommates, she obviously couldn’t stay with Owen anymore. The memories crept back up of her moving out of his room. The boxes she’d packed of her books and belongings. The many sketches and paintings Owen did of her and for her, some of which were hung up on the walls. She was always a little embarrassed whenever Owen drew her because he was starting to get quite good and the paintings were so flattering and mushy. 

For her last birthday, one of his gifts to her was a painting of the back of her head and braid with the ocean in the background. It was honestly so beautiful and she loved it at the time, but when Abby was packing up just looking at it made her break into a few tears. She left it behind because she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

Abby reached their room, Manny was following close behind, knowing she was upset and wanting to talk her down. She basically slammed the door behind them, she needed to vent.

“Like are you kidding me? Seriously? Him and Mel!”

“Abby, he’s allowed to date other people. You’re not together anymore.”

“Yeah, well he should date some girl I don’t know, not fucking Mel! He knows how feel about her.” It wasn’t like this was completely out of the blue, she’d gathered over the years that Mel kind of liked Owen. Abby could admit it, she would get jealous sometimes when those two were friendly. Mel was also the opposite of what Abby was like, super nice and sweet, petite with dainty features. Meanwhile after her dad died, Abby could barely hold a smile, she could be abrasive, she worked out until she felt she’d collapse. She couldn’t not compare herself sometimes.

Manny tried to talk her through it, “They were already friends so it wasn’t that much of a leap. I mean, Jordan and Leah just started dating too.”

Abby glared at Manny, he was tight with everyone from Salt Lake. “You fucking knew, didn’t you.”

Manny crossed his arms, “Abby, I don’t spread what you say to me in confidence, nor any of my other friends.”

Abby felt tears start to well, she was feeling so betrayed, “But you knew Mel liked him and was going to make a move, didn’t you?”

It was the case, she just knew it. Manny sighed, “I suggested to her that she wait, but she didn’t take my advice. I think Nora said she should. Either way, he needed to move on Abby, guy was miserable. She makes him happy.”

Abby shook her head, there was really no one who understood, who was on her side. This was so fucking pointless. God, she needed to get out on the field and take down some Scars, or maybe pull out some of their teeth back at the FOB.

“Yeah, I bet she told you everything, Manny, and you kept her intentions to fuck your best friend’s ex to yourself. You know what? Why don’t you go check up on Mel and see how Mel’s doing after her fun night out.” Abby was fuming, pacing the room.

Manny could tell this wasn’t going anywhere positive, “Okay Abs, I’m gonna let you cool off. But I swear, I’m here for you, I’m here for all of us. We can talk about it later if you feel like it.”

“Whatever.” Abby went towards the window, she just wanted to be left alone. She heard the door open and shut. As soon as it closed she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks. She knew she really had no one to blame but herself, she pushed him away, she was the one who made the relationship not work.

Maybe she just needed a good cry to come to terms with it, she couldn’t be acting a fool in front of people. She knew the whole WLF was going to talk about this, bring it up and gauge her reactions.

A sudden urge hit her. Abby didn’t keep most of the art and presents Owen got her, but she did have one. Up on her top bunk was a box of various trinkets, she pulled it down, and took out a folder with some papers in it. It was still in there, Owen’s sketch he did of her back in Salt Lake. They’d snuck out, she fallen asleep under a tree and he sketched her sleeping and wrote her a love letter. That’d been the day before everything went to shit, her last happy day.

Abby gripped the top of the page to tear it in half. She almost, almost did. But for her all her new found strength she couldn’t do it. This was more than just some silly drawing.

She stopped, looked at the paper. A rogue tear fell onto the words. Abby wiped her face, she didn’t want to mar it anymore than that. With slightly shaking hands, Abby put the picture back in the folder, back in the box, and tucked it away.

[aziraamane]

Human AU - Part 5

(Previous) - (First)

September faded to October, November hot, or should that be cold, on its heels. In that time, there had been countless playdates - Ezra dropping off an excitable Warlock at Crowley's flat, or Adam walking back with Ezra and Warlock to spend a few hours with them in their home above the bookshop, till Crowley finished his various necessary businesses and was able to pick him up; infinite mugs of tea and/or coffee drunk, endless jokes and smiles and emotions thought long lost, buried into the ground until they weren't.

Crowley floated through those months on cloud nine. 

I have a friend. An actual friend. One who doesn't look at me like the Bank of Fucking England with a cock.

As far as socialites went, Crowley didn't mingle with the crowd, and as such, didn't have what anyone would call a social circle. He went along with whatever his mother, brothers, and sister told him to, played his part, and scuttled off home, back into willful isolation. Friends were a bother he couldn't be arsed with, family even worse.

But Ezra is...different. 

He wouldn't get his hopes up, yet. He could still turn out like everyone else. But for now, Crowley was content, simply pleased that he'd forged a connection.

"The hell are you looking so dopey about?"

Ugh. There came the gravelly tones that could suck the life out of anyone present. 

Hassel Crowley, eldest now Lucifer was dead, was, to put it in milder terms, a right ugly bastard. He had pallid skin, and froggy eyes, and hair like a thatch of mouldy straw. He smelled of stale smoke, and always had a cigarette in his hand. He offended Crowley's senses, all of them at once. 

"Fuck off, Hassel."

"No, no, I want to know, really," said Hassel, smiling a sickly sneer. He took a drag of his cigarette, long and slow, eyes watching Crowley mockingly. "Been a while since you've smiled like that."

Crowley reached for his wine, knocking back the glass in one. "If you must know," he said, setting the empty glass down with a click, "Adam's made a friend. They've been playing together a lot. Quite lovely, really."

"Adam? Luci's brat?"

"Yes, Hassel, your nephew. Do try to keep up, yes?"

"Don't like kids," Hassel muttered.

"You don't like much, to be fair."

"Shut up, you bumbling idiots," snapped the drawling tones of their mother. 

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Only one in the fucking room with a doctorate and an actual brain cell, and I get called an idiot?

Then again, what else could be expected from his family?

"You! Out there!" Beatrice Crowley, better known to the world as Bee, snapped her fingers in the direction of her newest assistant, who scurried over dutifully. Without looking up, Bee shoved a folder at him. "I want those photocopied and laminated in ten minutes, and on every desk in this place, so make - it - snappy! Go, go!" She glared at his rapidly retreating back. "And don't trip over your -" He stumbled and fell, dropping the folder, "-shoelaces. Ugh, useless, the lot of them!"

Bee was pushing seventy, but looked barely a day over fifty. Never a hair of her black bob out of place, she dressed immaculately, carried herself with a confident air, and yet was so ruthless and cold that she could never be anything but as ugly as Hassel. The rest of the brood weren't much better, Crowley thought, and Bee’s habit of wearing a red and black bow atop her head made him think rather uneasily of a large fly.

"How many assistants have you gone through so far this year, Mother?" Hassel smirked.

"Too many," she replied, eyes on her paperwork, "and I don't care to remember anything of them."

"Charming," Crowley snorted as he picked up the decanter on the table.

"Anthony, I expect you to walk out of here still able to put one foot in front of the other."

"Oh, the years have had me build up quite a tolerance, Mother dear," he drawled, topping up his glass. 

"Nice way of saying you're a drunk," Hassel said.

"Well, I do pride myself on having a more sophisticated tongue than you lot."

"You better watch that tongue, baby brother."

Bee threw a stapler at Hassel. "Out."

"But-"

"Out!"

Hassel glared at Crowley, stuck his cigarette between his lips, and stormed out of the office. 

"Something on your mind, Mother?" Crowley knocked back half his glass and sighed. Oh, that was good wine.

Bee pursed her lips as she tapped her pen on her desk. Finally she pushed her paperwork aside to glare at her youngest son. "What am I to do with any of you?" she snapped. "If Lionel and Hassel aren't getting into bar fights, it's Dana letting blunders slip through the editing, or you flirting with guests and showing off on the red carpet like some vapid damsel. At least Lucifer had some sense. Only one of you that ever did."

Crowley mock-pouted. "And here I thought you loved me."

"Listen to me, idiot. You're forty, and all you have to show for your years on Earth is that atrocious car and a boy you didn't even want to take on in the first place."

"I reckon the PhD counts for something, Mother." Crowley pretended he didn’t hear the slight about his beloved Bentley.

"Oh, yes. Stars. How novel." Bee snorted, derision dripping from her tone. She pulled a sheaf of papers out of a desk and eyed them over a minute, then tossed them to Crowley, who made no move to pick them up. "Our shares are going down faster than when Lucifer died,” she said. “They could have floated longer had you agreed to inherit his business, but you, moron, sold it - so you're going to do something to earn something back for the family."

"Am I?"

"Yes. You are." Bee steepled her fingers together. "You’re always causing trouble with the nearest person that bats their lashes at you, but when was the last time you actually dated?"

“Uh...same year those little butterfly hairclips went out of fashion? The fuck am I supposed to remember something like that?”

“Well, that’s going to change if you know what’s good for our family, Anthony.” Bee pushed herself back from the desk and stalked round it to snatch the wine glass from her son’s hand - though not before he got one last deep swig out of it. “Find someone. Man, woman, something in between, I don’t care, but I want to see you married by the end of next year. You hear me?”

Crowley choked on the wine still in his mouth.

~*~

Weekends at work usually passed by quickly enough. The library was almost always quiet, the only students around having confined themselves to the silent study areas, headphones in situ and pens scribbling away in between frantic turning of pages.

Warlock often accompanied Ezra to the library. He would take a handheld console and its charger, maybe one or two of his own books, and sit on a beanbag in the corner to amuse himself for the duration of his father's shift. He liked Newt, and Newt wasn't much more than a boy himself, bless him, so they got on well; on quieter occasions Newt could usually be found with Warlock on his lap as they “nerded out” together. Apparently consoles were immune to Newt’s destructive tendencies, something Ezra could be thankful for - those gimmicks were expensive.

At the present moment of this particular Saturday, Warlock had taken it upon himself to help Ezra put back the returned books to their designated shelves. A five year old couldn't possibly begin to understand the Dewey decimal system, but he was trying, and it warmed Ezra's heart to no end. 

"What's this word, dad?" Warlock held up the book in his hand. 

"That says “philosophy,” darling. Means a lot of old men in old times, sitting around discussing things."

"Sounds boring."

"Ah, but some of the greatest minds were borne of philosophy, my dear boy."

"You're funny, dad."

Ezra ruffled his hair. "As are you." 

The click of brisk footsteps drew Ezra away from Warlock, curious. A tall figure rounded the bookshelves, and Ezra felt a false smile jump unbidden to his lips. 

Gabriel Fell was the dean of King's Business School, and the eldest of his siblings. He was pleasant enough, but condescending and a little too mocking even when he didn't intend to be. He was also dashingly handsome, with a chiseled jaw and tall, muscular stature; everything the shorter, softer, rounder Ezra was not. 

"Gabriel. How nice to see you."

"Ezra! You're looking well. And the little tyke!" Gabriel knelt to fist bump a grinning Warlock. "How you doing, buddy?"

"I'm good!"

"Great. That's really great." Gabriel straightened up and gave a none-too-gentle punch to Ezra's shoulder; he winced, rubbing the sore area briefly. 

"You got a minute?" chanced Gabriel.

Ezra slid the book cart away with a resigned expression. "I suppose I can spare the time. Warlock, darling, will you go sit with young Newt awhile?"

"Okay." Warlock skipped off, hair bouncing around his face.

Gabriel watched him go with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Good kid,” he murmured. “You've done a great job with him, Ezra."

"Thank you." Ezra clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "Shall we walk?"

"Yeah, let's do that." 

Gabriel fell into step beside Ezra, his gait long and loping, one striding step for every two of his little brother’s, a dance of position much like a reflection of their real lives. Gabriel had always been bigger, better, stronger, and it showed in every fibre of his being from adolescence to adulthood; Gabriel who played for the football team, Gabriel who secured the scholarship...Ezra never had it in him to be jealous, but a little put out? Yes, certainly, if only because the rest of the family expected the same of him and never got it.

"So I wanted to let you know," Gabriel said, "that I've heard a little rumour through the grapevine. A position is opening up in Arts and Humanities next year for a History lecturer."

Ezra made a low noise in his throat. "Fascinating."

"Sure you don't want to apply?"

"Gabriel, you know I gave up studying towards my doctorate long ago."

Gabriel sighed. "Ah, Ezra, you're too good to be lounging in a library for the rest of your life. You could be so much more!"

"I'm very happy where I am," Ezra said stoutly. "I don't need to be more."

"Hm. Well. That's a shame, truly. It would be brilliant to see you teaching again."

"And I enjoyed my time teaching, but undergraduates are vastly different from high school students. Not quite my style. Honestly, Gabriel, sometimes I worry you don't really know me at all."

Gabriel fixed Ezra with a steely look. "Would that you let me get to know you."

"You're my brother, for heaven's sake. You should know me already."

"Alright, then how about you come to dinner at my place tomorrow? Sandy's doing the meat. That's what I actually came to talk to you about, but I got all excited about that vacancy and - anyway, what do you say? You'll come, right?"

Ezra paused. Sandy did have a certain touch with roasts, that was true. He nodded after a moment. "Yes, we'll be there."

"Hm...you reckon you could get a babysitter for Warlock?"

"Why would I need to do that?"

"Well, it'd be a nice opportunity for us all to get together again, y'know, the way we used to. Michaela and Uriel are coming as well. Have a few drinks, crack some jokes, stuff not for kids' ears, you understand."

Ezra deflated. "...I will see what I can do."

"Great! See you around, let's say seven?" Gabriel gave Ezra's shoulder another punch and ambled off, hand raising in farewell.

So that was how it would be. A night of teasing and humiliation disguised as playful sibling rivalry. Well, one must keep up appearances with the family wherever possible. Sighing, Ezra pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and called Crowley.

"Hey, angel." Crowley picked up on the second ring.

"Ah, hello, my dear.” Ezra tried very hard to ignore the sudden flutter in his chest at hearing Crowley’s smooth tones. “Um, quick question - does your nanny take on more than just Adam?"

"Eh? Uh, don't know, actually - d'you need someone to watch Warlock?"

"Tomorrow evening, yes. Last-minute arrangement, quite unavoidable, I'm afraid. I can pay Miss Device for her time, of course."

"Don't worry 'bout that. Bring him over."

"You're sure?"

"Positive. I'll cover it. My treat."

"Oh, I think you might be the angel here, Anthony."

Crowley snorted. "Less of that, I've a reputation to keep. Right. See you tomorrow."