#i can have so much fun and be so at ease adding more itty bitty details until im nauseous from not eating for hours

[bones-n-bookles]

Hey why is it so much easier to add SO MUCH EXTRA DETAIL to art than it is to simplify art

[mitterstorm]

Dance For Me

Chapter 1

“Finally we are here today to seek and to receive comfort. We would be less than honest if we said that our hearts have not ached over this situation. We are not too proud to acknowledge-

You couldn’t take it anymore, just by standing here listening to that preach addressed his departure. Your knees feel weak and your eyes burn, but you refuse to make a scene, taking deep breaths while clenching your fists is helping you calm down.

Still, it’s not enough.

You want to scream again just as you did when you saw his body limp against yours, scratch your arms in attempts of making the pain and hurt go away. To drift your mind from these ugly feelings.

A sick way of coping indeed, teensy bit of self-harm ain't going to kill you. It helps you somehow, preventing yourself from breaking even further in a public place like the cemetery.

Finally, you regain control of yourself and shift back to the preacher. Unfortunately, he concluded, now you have to prepare for the worse.  

Henry, who is your most precious friend, is dead. His body was being carried away in the concealment of a coffin; he said his last farewell to you early in the morning when you ate breakfast with him, offering your company so he wouldn't feel alone, regain some strength by appreciation itself.

Something was up that morning; the old fart was more talkative than usual and flashed a smile here and there. You are at fault for not noticing from the start. You should have been more perceptive and observant; you are keen on people after all, especially when he gave you that look as if he was parting ways with you. He didn’t fight death, accepted it as embracing a hug from an old friend. That thought alone fills your head with doubt.

Was he even happy when he left?

 Did he feel satisfied with the life he lived?

 Were you enough?

 Fuck, you never would've imagined his passing will affect you this much.

<<You old geezer, why were you so kind to me? Why did we let ourselves get attached?>>

The time is near, you will eventually have to confront him with all of these people staring at you, but you need to be strong for sake. You are what’s left of his loved ones. Linda died long ago. They never had a chance to procreate and bring a new life, Joey went mad or something along those lines.

Just like the rest of the crew, and he didn’t make any friends while he was on service for the military. If he did, they were dead. He didn’t like to talk about it.

<<I tried to make you happy, make you feel at ease as you did for me>>

Yet he kept secrets from you, of course, you respected his wishes and didn’t pry any further.

However, it stung.

<<Now it’s not time to reminisce, there’s nothing to reminisce for me at the moment>>

They called your name to the front; you ran out of time. It’s your turn. Is your first time burying someone, yes, you have assisted other burials besides this one, but now you are who’s lost a loved one. Those past times were favors people close to you had asked a long time ago; they said it felt nice to have somebody there when someone else is missing in their lives. In other words, you were there as comfort. A shoulder they could use to cry and lean on.

Hesitant, you take away from the burier’s grasp his shovel and with a gulp. You start shoveling some dirt into the hole were Henry’s coffin lies.

<<Shit, I can’t stop trembling! Come on, stop being a pussy and get over with this!>>

Despite that, your body wouldn’t obey, it made you look clumsy. No matter how much you lied to yourself.

You are scared.

After burying Henry, your vision goes black.

Waking up tomorrow morning at home without a clue of how you got there made your mind fuzzy.

How fun.

You try to get up, but end up failing.

“Fuuuuuck! Why do I feel like absolute shit! Everything hurts!” These feel just like a hangover. Why does it feel like one? Did you go to a bar once Henry’s funeral ended? How much did you drink?

“Enough to blackout it appears,” You say under your breath. Of course, your dumb ass would go to a bar and get drunk to cope with the pain! An upcoming headache awaits you for being arbitrary, instead of showing apprehension towards the situation and mourn, as you should, your voice of reason zonked out. “I reek of booze. Agh, it stinks”.

No more addressing what happened yesterday; feeling like trash isn't doing you any good. Henry would have called you out on your bullshit.

"Stop whining like a whore and man up, chum! I'll buy you a drink. Later we can relax and cut you some slack, nothing a magsman like myself can't do".

“Ok boomer,” You said in a humdrum tone, at least it made you laugh internally. “lo and behold, this will be a shitty morning-err afternoon, it’s 1 PM, I thought it was too early to be awake”.

That means it’s time for brunch.

Must compel your stomach desires, eat a lot little of food. Therefore, you'll have to leave the bed, go downstairs where the kitchen is; you force yourself out of the comfiness that are your covers. So you walk out of the room barefoot towards the kitchen. You open the fridge faking interest with whatever is inside and close it, then repeat, only that this time you pay a little more of attention.

You grab the water pitcher and pour some in a glass, then look for oatmeal and toss three spoonfuls of it at the water, after that you chuck a spoonful of sugar and mix it. A simple drink full of roughage. It’ll suffice for now.

*Clink clink*

Metal hitting porcelain serves you as a white noise to rearrange your thoughts. Yesterday was hectic and had your mind high wire, you were thinking about the old man; how long have you two been friends? Five or six years more or less, you met each other by autumn at a hospital. On that occasion, you were merely an intern in the middle of their practice and had to change sheets, deliver meals, give them their meds and reassure they took them at the time the doctors had said. Like a nurse or carer (the difference it’s you possess more knowledge than one and can prescribe medication, it was also part of your duty as a trainee assisting the doctors with whatever you could). That’s how both of you came face to face with.

Mr. Stein was sick and injured. He needed to tend some wounds since they required special treatment. Battle scars, you didn’t know at the time, however, as days passed, you became close to him, he told you how he got them; the biggest can be found on his back.  

Unfortunately, a sharp pain arose, preventing you from wandering further in the past. You had forgotten about your headache, which it’s more noticeable now, you are sure there aren’t any pills left.

“I ain’t leaving being this crappy, besides I don’t feel like moving right now…” Your eyelids are heavy and keeping them open, it’s such a pain, so you shut ‘em in hopes of relaxing for a little bit. Leaning your back on the kitchen island while drinking your beverage, its coldness helping you somehow with the throb.

Once again, your mind wanders.

Thanks to it, you know where to find some ibuprofen.

“Are these the ones?” You asked while holding a box for him to see, squinting Henry finally recognized the packet.

“What’s it called again?” He questioned, rubbing his head to ease the ache a bit. His voice raspy because of a dry throat. His normal soft tone replaced by a croaky. He’s clearly suffering.  

“Ibuprofen.” You read aloud as you’ve been asked and turn back to look at him.

“Yup, that’s the one, lass. I know I’ve bothered you enough, but could you serve me a glass of water?”

“You old coot, not a bother at all. I’ll be back with your water in a jiffy”.

The pills are somewhere inside Henry’s studio. You can do that, going upstairs isn’t as demanding as buying them, cuz leaving home means changing clothes that look presentable and aren’t dirty. Henceforth, you don’t feel in the mood for seeing the outside.

“I should stop thinking of how lazy I am and look for those meds…” Talking to yourself it’s quite common, so you ain’t no stranger to these situations.

Therefore, you took a break from your bullshit and went upstairs where Henry Stein used to draw; he passed most of his time in there, secluded from the outside world, before military service, he worked at an animation studio owned by the man he once considered his best friend, Joey Drew was his name if your memory doesn’t fail you.

Your friend called him a bastard, never explained why only responded by saying: “He lost his mind.”

Nevertheless, Henry kept drawing cartoons, and sometimes, he would let you watch him sketch and answered your questions. He carried on with his old comics he left unfinished long ago. The same he had drawn back thirty years ago. The main characters are three little fellas: Bendy, Alice Angel, and Boris. Henry said they animated their adventures and later on, added side characters. The Butcher Gang, if you recall, also consists of a trio: Charley, Barley, and Edgar.

When Henry started storytelling, you felt like a kid back again, he could’ve marked your childhood just as the rest of animators who made those toons while you were a child. Oh, how you treasured these memories, you’ll never forget the time you spent together.

Evoking past times has helped to soothe your headache an itty-bitty, yet you still need to find the ibuprofen.

“Where could it be…” You asked to no one, hoping the walls may respond, even though it’ll never happen.

Seeking everywhere you soon turned the room upside down, papers on the floor resembling a carpet, art supplies rolling across the table (pencils, colors, pens, paintbrushes, blending stumps, etc.) and some books based on anatomy and animation were disorganized on their bookshelves. It all ended after you opened a drawer (this one didn’t need your touch, it was already a disorder) and found what you were looking for, and because of your rashness, more papers fell on the floor.

“Damn, what a mess…” You muttered under your breath a little irritated with yourself for being so careless while searching. You collected the papers and put them in order back again one by one, because of it you grew curious and read some of them, a letter grabbed your attention.

It was one of those fancy letters with a seal and all (what does it say? Seems of importance).

You don’t consider yourself nosy, just interested in its contents.

<<From Joey Drew? Huh, looks like your old buddy send you his salutations after all this time>>

Oh, you had no idea.

Henry knew about the letter, he already read it and did as they told him. The old studio where they used to make dreams come true transformed into a living hell.

‘DEAR HENRY

IT SEEMS LIKE A LIFETIME AGO SINCE WE WORKED ON CARTOONS TOGETHER.

30 YEARS REALLY SLIPS AWAY, DOESN’T IT?

IF YOU ARE BACK IN TOWN, COME VISIT THE OLD WORKSHOP.

THERE’S SOMETHING I NEED TO SHOW YOU.

YOUR BEST PAL, JOEY DREW’.

You finished reading the letter.

*Snrk*

Well shit.

Did you just read a confession or a love letter? Why not both? You don’t know why, but it feels like one.

“Okay, let’s stop right there. I can’t make jokes on circumstances as these ones”.

What could be so urgent for Joey to write a letter after thirty years of silence?

Should you investigate?

<<The letter could’ve been sent years ago! Henry surely read it; otherwise, it wouldn’t be inside a drawer of his studio, though there’s a possibility he didn’t, I doubt it. He must have seen his friend has written message>>

Okay, sure. Let’s suppose he didn’t pay any mind to the damn thing, you can pretend, now the real issue it’s the location. Joey Drew Studios must be closed (or broken down into pieces, you didn’t know if they decided to demolish the whole building).

“Wake up ___! Face reality, you shouldn’t be fantasizing, this ain’t some silly story with you as a heroine…instead of wasting my time, I shall swallow that damn pill and take some zzz’s”.

You left Henry’s solace and went to bed once again after you swallowed the pill with some water. A dreamless sleep greeted you.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bendy’s POV

“ん乇'丂 ムの刀乇”.

Even though he should be celebrating, the Inkarnate can’t seem to find any joy in his being, no emotion tried to overtake him. Why? He doesn’t feel anything. True, he may not possess all the emotions a human has, but anger, joy, sadness, and hysteria weren’t unbeknownst him. There’s no satisfaction nor sorrow towards his creator’s death, not even an ounce of regret. Ok no, he won’t sense any guilt for what happened to Henry, he deserved to die just as much as Joey, but he was grasping straws in here!

How’s it possible to not perceive the slightest of emotion within himself?

The Ink Demon was turning apathetic in regards to the subject; he didn’t have an answer as to why. One thing he’s sure of, his world turned dull no longer exciting as he thought.

It was as if the little dancing demon had opened his eyes for the first time, after all those years blinded by the dripping ink, before that, he only saw what his mind showed him. He finally realized how monochromatic his world truly is.

All is black and white for the demon’s eyes.

A wave of indifference invades his mind and his mind is fuzzy, he dissolves into his inky form and rests.

However, not for much.

“-aHahaHAhahaHahaHAhaha!”

Alice.

That bitch.

He despises her nearly as much as those liars, yet the little devil darling couldn’t give a damn about her right now. Let her laugh all she wants as the malady she’s. The Angel probably got the word, celebrating, unlike him.

Immersing himself even more inside the ink, he found…peace. He can work with that, serenity aids his jumbled thoughts; darkness envelopes him and swallows his body whole.

<<In the end…I feel empty. Is this how revenge it’s supposed to be like?>>

He can’t respond to that, how could he? He doesn’t even know what’s life supposed to feel like.

<<Their imagination cursed us all with life, they couldn’t take responsibility for their actions and show us how to drive through it>>

Back when he was the small little imp everybody loved, there were all kind of colors, unlike now. The studio felt warm in contrast to all the ink that surrounds it now.

The remains of those old days lurk inside the deep abyss as ink creatures, husks who replaced the humans that worked here.

Thinking about it got him tired, Bendy finds himself drifting from consciousness, he’s falling asleep.

“Was it worth it?”

<<Again that cunt>> Despite his thoughts, the Inkarnate didn’t feel irascible towards the narcissist woman. Actually, there isn’t much for him to perceive.

She’s not in here, she wouldn’t dare to step a foot on his domain. The wench had the nerve of placing her cutouts and posters; he destroyed a few just as she did the same. She is communicating with him using a damaged poster with her face.

“I know you can hear me, demon, don’t fake pretend.”

“Wんﾘ りの ﾘのひ ᄃﾑ尺乇?” He hopes to scare her, even though he knows it won’t work while using his beast form for some reason his speech turns nightmarish. Yet he doesn’t wield it often because of how difficult is controlling his instincts. Thoughts become more primal, talking it’s hard after a few hours transformed in it gets tiring, and he can’t measure his own force. He favors his inky form best: practical and gets the job done.

“I don’t”. So she’s just shitting with him, insufferable.

“Then why ask?”

“Spirit of inquiry. Your relationship intrigues me, up there in Heaven, we get curious as to why you didn’t kill him yourself. And don’t even try to justify your actions. You had many opportunities. The little errand boy nearly ends up killing you, he tried the same with me”.

After listening to what the Angel had to said, his permanent smile turned slowly into a frown. It’s never a good thing when the Lord ain’t wearing one.

“…”

“Well?”

The fallen angel is laughing at him.

“Not even you know the reason behind your acts of mercy!” He remains silent, it’s not like she’s wrong, the little devil does not why he was so resilient with Henry.

After that fiasco, she left him be.

Thanks to Alice’s short visit, Bendy finds questioning why she dropped by. They hate one another, true. She has eyes here and there, but it’s to keep him in line, so he won’t cross an inky limb on her domain. Unlike the female cartoon, he does not have any cutouts, posters, plushies, or ink servants near her place. He wants nothing to do with her. That’s why he finds it so unusual, it’s not like her.

Unless…

She fancies something he has.

<<If that bitch knows what’s good for her, she won’t be picking her nose in my business>>

Later he’ll do his rounds throughout the studio, maybe, the imp will find what she’s searching before she does, whatever it may be, he won’t let her have it.

He’ll make sure of it.

Who knows what her deranged mind has planned; he’s tired of the gruesome scenery this place is in, corpses all around, clones of his ol’ friend bring back unsavory images from the past. Oh, Lawrence, he’s a madman, made satanic circles as a way of showing his devotion towards the black devil. Thanks to Sammy, he has eyes in nearly the entire place.

Yes, he’s aware the musician it’s alive, but Sammy Lawrence continues being of use for him.

<<I’ll take care of him when I wake up…>>

He’s exhausted. However, he stays on his beast form sunken in ink.

The demon’s slumber it’s a peaceful one…

.

   .

   .

   .

   .

   Until you enter his kingdom.

 An animalistic rumble shakes the tinted walls.

 He’s coming for you.

  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days.

You paced on the issue for three days, until you finally had an answer.

“I’m gonna pay a visit to your ol’ pal, maybe he’s still alive…or not…” You lowered your voice in the last part; Henry called Joey a bastard and accused him of being mentally unstable, you trust his word, but what if…what if he changed? There’s a possibility he redeemed himself and went through a rehabilitation process to help him with his instability.

<<I need to look for the address and from there I’ll see what can be done>>

You googled ‘Joey Drew Studios’ on your phone and within seconds Google Maps showed up, you were going to click at it, but then something catches your eye.

An article and it’s quite old.

‘Joey Drew Studios, also known as the workshop. Is an American corporation and an animation studio of the Bendy franchise, established in 1929.

Founded by Joey Drew and Henry Stein in an unknown full date other than the year of 1929, Joey Drew Studios is located at Broadway, Brooklyn, New York City, New York.

In 1946, Joey Drew Studios was under investigation after reports of hazardous work environments, missing employees, harassment, and excessive back pay, as well the company's danger of being bankrupt, all of which are a result of Joey's mismanagement of the studio. Anonymous employees threatened to make labor unions over the poor conditions, which included unpermitted buildings, hazardous electrical wiring, and a plumbing system prone to bursting. In addition, there were excessive work hours, most of which were unpaid and several animators were unable to see their families in weeks, after being threatened with disciplinary action and termination if they were unable to finish animations on tight schedules.

There were reports of barricaded offices, employees locked up in work spaces, and complaints of crazy malfunctioning machinery. Despite the evidence against the company, Joey Drew remained firm that the studio has done nothing wrong, calling the accusations "preposterous" and "ridiculous", dismissing them as either complaint from menial employees, or feeble attempts by competing studios to discredit Joey.

On August 16, 1959, the law firm known as Snooks, Spitner and Snooks sued Joey Drew, having heard the rumors of Joey's mismanaging of his own workers. 12 days later, the studio was closed down in accordance to legal regulation 11 U.S Code § 1125 (which forbids the misrepresentation of legally established companies) as evident by the bankruptcy report found in Joey's apartment, as well as health and safety concerns directly by the mention of a health and safety board meeting schedule found in the appointment lobby.’

Oof.

<<That’s a lot to take in>>

Why the fuck would Henry’s friend would want to meet at that nightmare show? Has he learned nothing after all this years? And not only that, the sucker it´s/was an abusive prick with his employees!

<<Man, you weren’t joking>>

You fear a screw lose isn’t Joey’s only problem.

<<He sounds like an asshole, I don’t want to put up with his shit...I’ve got enough dealing with people like him on a daily basis. Sure, not everyone it’s an ass and there’s some decent/kind people out there, but handling jerks as the likes of him tires me out>>

Sometimes you aren’t the most patient person, it all depends. But this whole ordeal it’s too much for you.

<<The studio is in the big city, New York it’s fucking expensive. I don’t have the money for travelling that far, I’ll have to bid on my savings and package supplies for the journey>>

Crap. Three days and you didn’t think all of this through! How can you be so stupid?!

Now this looks like one of those impulsive decisions you take for being careless and inattentive.

<<How could Henry put up with me when not even I can stand myself?!>>

You need an adult, that’s what you ought to have beside you.

Your life is such a mess sometimes…

“Before spending money on my idiocy I should read more and prepare myself.” You mutter angrily to yourself.

That’s exactly what you did the next two days, finally you are ready for departing.

You grab your backpack and the car’s keys. “Cellphone in the front pocket, all that’s left is open the door, lock it and call Abby, easy.”

During those two days you made a few calls and went up for gas, it was going to be a long trip from Miami to New York. Sure, it ain’t that extensive, but you’ll be driving by yourself for approximately 20 hours. A place to stay, money, gasoline and food are big girl’s problems. Not counting the money you’ll spend on a cheap motel to rest your head.

“That or make a few stops on gas stations…maybe sleeping in the car won’t be that bad…” The good thing is you have options; you aren’t tied solely to one alternative.  

<<Abby won’t charge me for doing me this favor, another plus>>

She’ll guard the house in your absence and will call if any emergency transpires.

Now, you are free to go.

<<I hope I made a good decision doing this>>

The first 8 hours were a torment, bored and your ass felt numb of sitting for that long, the last time you remained that still was in high school, since you made your schedule. Your feet hurt just as your arms did. You made a stop for eating and going to the bathroom, after that another 8 hours.

Overall, the journey was relaxing, while driving you admired the views offered to you, savoring each sight. It helped you keeping away some melancholy.

You miss Henry, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself with this excursion of yours, the emptiness stays in the back of your mind.

Your wounds are still fresh, you haven’t mourned properly, because you don’t want to. That’s why you are doing this, to keep yourself busy so you won’t think about it. You need it, you ain’t prepared for it yet.

Soon you’ll be.

After a short nap (before that you made many stops, ‘cuz you’re a whining bitch who ain’t strong enough to control her fucking bladder), you started driving again. You have three or four hours left on the road.

Time to listen some music, you activate Bluetooth and connect your phone to the car’s stereo, finally you found a song of your liking in Spotify and play it. You spent the rest of the trip singing along; sometimes you’ll speed up a little bit on the spur of the moment.

Soon you got to your destination, didn’t waste time changing clothes, you collapsed on the bed in the motel and slept for an hour. After that, you washed yourself and got ready for visiting Joey Drew.

“Here goes nothing…”

You regret already coming here, silly you just ruined a change of clothes! Why is there so much ink? You’ll never get out the ink of your shoes, fuck! You have been here for less than ten minutes and all went to shit for you! It doesn’t help this place keeps giving you the heebies-jeebies! Every time you take a step on the creaky wooden floor it feels as if someone is following you, like a slithering sound. The ink splashes keep creeping you out, if it wasn’t black you would think it’s blood, Jesus Christ.

<<Thank God, the lights still work; it would make this place spookier if they didn’t>>

As you venture further deeper into the studio, a beast rumbles, shaking everything around you, more ink drops fall.

At that moment…

…you knew you fucked up.

So you hide.

Your mind provides you one last thought before going high drive

‘WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?!’

<<FUUU-

[developer-dan]

Welcome to the first skin picks of the week!

This is a weekly post that I’m going to try to make where I highlight skins I want to see officially supported in Rust. Every Saturday I’m going to make an effort to showcase around 8 skins or skin sets and elaborate about why I like them or what I’d change if applicable. My goal doing this is to hopefully give exposure to skin artists as well as give feedback, and in turn take feedback from the rust community to see if they agree with the picks and would like to see them in the item store. This little selection is stuff I’ve had in my favorites as well as things I’ve seen recently.

A few hours a week I’m going to browse the workshop for skins that catch my eye in several ways, which I’ll highlight here:

Theme: Most importantly to me, I want skins to follow the same art direction as other models or materials in the game, or items that seem like they could be salvaged, hand made, or found in the current landscape. My idea on this is relatively loose, however, there are a few things I like to stay away from such as magical emissions, ancient items that look polished, or skins that show incredibly inaccessible materials like a butt-ton of platinum and gold. A little bit of any of these is fine here and there (don’t get me wrong, they look very cool!), and while you can make really impressive skins that sort of break these rules, personally I like to see skins stay stricter while still being creative. I think that’s what really shows how an artist can shine.

Design: I like to have an eye open for skins with designs that show a clear art direction, and sticks to one theme that it can execute well. I especially like when skins look really niche or can easily stand out compared to other skins for that particular item. This can be done a lot of ways, and I’m always excited to see what people come up with!

Execution: Execution is really important- you can have some really cool ideas, but sometimes they don’t always come together. If I ever see a skin with a cool theme and design but notice the execution is lacking, I always want to help that person strive to improve the skin. Sometimes its a software limitation, other times it’s inexperience. Either way, they have the creativity, and it’s important to notice those kinds of artists. Anyways, in execution, I like to look for good sculpts, a keen eye for proper material use, and detail to make things look plausibly realistic (with some room for more unrealistic ideas).

Oh yeah, also, I’m going to be using in-game screenshots only for these posts to eliminate any bias that pretty thumbnails have- I’m not saying thumbnails are a bad thing because the automatic ones are pretty bad, but sometimes it can maybe exaggerate the skin too much for my liking.

With all of that said and done, I’m going to talk about the 9 skins you see above!

Fallen bomb by Shedmon: I really like this skin. It’s a really creative interpretation of the mesh and the details on it are done awesomely. You can see the outer shell of the bomb peeling back revealing the hot explosive core, and all of the surrounding materials are used well enough to show the journey the bomb took; how it detonated or dud-ed, how scuffed it was from time being out in the wild for some time, and how it was dented from whatever impact it took falling down. Also, it’s rad as fuck to picture yourself cooking stuff using an atomic bomb!

Jaeger set by Mishka₪ and sfonsper: This set is freakin sweet. I love how well done all of the sculpting was to show off that fuzzy wool, and how every part of each skin looks super tactile. It shows a really good understanding of the materials used and every piece in the set was made with the same amount of effort and attention to detail. They all work so well together, and could easily work together with other existing or future skins. The use of the riot helmet is creative, and the entire aesthetic of aviator-gone-rebel fits the game super well!

Frost Wolf Mask by Veys: This skin is super cool. The grainyness of the paint, the really subtle specular differences, and the metal trimmings/depth of the shaped metal create a mask that I can easily picture a person in the world of rust creating for themselves to stand out, without being incredibly flashy. The continued artwork on the top of the head to show off the shape of the whole head also helps it stand out- more often than not, artists will stop at the face, and not really do anything super special with the cap. In this case though, it’s used in a nice way to really outline exactly what the skin's idea is- and It also goes without saying that it would go well with the frost wolf AK, of course!

Nemo by Shedmon: This skin is a neat interpretation of the boonie hat. It’s done well to the point that it looks like a new item in itself, and totally fits that dude’s beard. It seems like a simple idea too, but the extra detail put here and there on the skin keeps it unique and simple while still having that realistic tone to it. One itty-bitty change I’d like to see on the skin though is kind of a symptom of how skins work, but could be tweaked. When I loaded the skin in the editor, the diffuse around the cap was obviously erased because it had to be- however, so was the bottom of the hat’s lid! A bit of an oversight that should be fixed going forward. I understand that if it were opaque it would look strange from the sides, but you could still fill it in, and slowly ease into the alpha of the circumference of the hat. Still well done, though!

Deterrent by Moonfighter and xINFERNO: I notice that a lot of AK skins that are accepted are absolutely plastered in art from tip to toe. I’m not complaining of course, they look incredible and are way better than anything I could do for sure! But I think it would be nice if the skins could be toned back slightly or have some simpler skins introduced for variety. For example, in this skin, you have a nice little etching of a spirit zooming past with a small color palette of yellow, black, and white, the skin stings and really sends a message that your bullets are flying out the other end. It’s rusted to all hell, so it feels very cool to see in your hands (even moreso when they add viewmodel gloves- pls!). The ironsights are kept simple and not distracting, which I like- just a simple white crosshair. The scuff marks and scratches are also placed with some strategy and not willy nilly- one things for sure, and that’s that it looks like it’s been used quite a lot. spooky!

Laboratory Door by Mishka₪: The use of materials here is really cool, and totally conveys that idea of shoddily slapped together scraps that were used just to get a door down. In a way, it almost looks like it’s own tier of door, but not any stronger than wood. I say this because, like the sheet metal door and wood door (duh), there are visible planks underneath. But it’s done in a really good way! Also, i should point out that I really like the normal mapping done on the tarp. It feels like it’s really there, sagging from it’s eight and being pressed to the door by the pins. It has these really gritty outlines that I personally like; it’s sort of a personal taste, but I believe that it fits.

Hazard Garage Door by Underdog: This garage door is freakin sweet. The idea of a smaller door inside the large one is really interesting, and it’s obvious that some thought was put into it too. The door is cut up into sections to show that it breaks apart when the door is sliding upwards into the..... thingie up top. The massive bolts with the oozing rust dripping down feels very grungy and threatening, and the little details added for asymmetry like the gritty vent and posters/scratches really sell the idea of this big toxic door.

Tree Murderer by Me!: This list wouldn’t be complete without a me shilling out on my end. I had a lot of fun making this skin. My idea making it was that I wanted to have a funnier/more peaceful approach to tally marks. Instead of the tallies representing kill counts, it represents how many trees the little roleplayer using it chopped down. Since they spend a lot of time alone farming trees, it’s got a bunch of cute little etchings on it of trees, birds, logs, shrubs, etc- I chose the colorful little sheets of metal because I wanted something colorful to stand out from the handle and the black metal backdrop behind the paint. If the color doesn’t really fancy you, I also made a gray version here, but I think the handle needs to be redone for it to work that way.

Well that does it for week 1! If you’re interested in the lists or have more questions about my decisions or why I pick certain skins over others, let me know and I’ll try to talk. It’s fun making these lists and I hope to see these skins considered for future addition next Thursday!

[laurelsofhighever]

Kitten

Dragon Age Fluff Pariing: Cullen x f!Trevelyan (background) Characters: Cullen, Varric Words: 1196 Also on AO3

Commander Cullen stood, arms crossed and feet planted, watching his soldiers train. It kept his mind occupied and his men distracted. Many of those tilting against the practice dummies on the shore of Haven’s lake were raw recruits, volunteers attracted from their lives as farmhands by the glamour of the Inquisition’s promise to save the world. As such, most of them had never held a sword in their lives, and it showed.

“You there!” he shouted. “There’s a shield in your hand – block with it! If that were a fireball, you’d be dead.” He scowled at the offending recruit, who jumped and flushed scarlet before nodding and readying himself for another attack.

“Well now, there’s a sight,” said a familiar, gravelly voice. Cullen turned to watch Varric saunter over, his eyes on the recruits in the speculative manner that usually meant he was after material for his next book. “You’ve certainly put fear of the Maker into them, Curly. Haven’t you maybe considered going a little easier? Give them time to celebrate.”

“They’ve had two days,” Cullen replied in clipped tones. “Without seasoned troops to back her up, Lady Montiliyet’s diplomatic efforts will be wasted. Besides,” he added, with a jut of his chin towards the Breach, “it keeps their minds off that.”

Varric rubbed a broad hand along his jaw. “You’ve got a point there.”

For a while they stood in not-quite-companionable silence, lulled by the rhythmic beat of the training patterns and by the hiss of windswept snow over the ice. Finally, the tense line of Cullen’s shoulders softened.

“Has there been any change?”

“Nah,” the dwarf replied. “At least, not so far as I can tell. Seeker’s trying to pretend everything’s alright, of course, and Chuckles is as talkative as ever, but believe me, if they’d managed to wake Kitten up, you can guarantee all of Haven would know about it.”

Cullen frowned. “I assume that’s another nickname?” As far as he could recall, the Herald’s name was Maighread.

“You got a problem with it?”

He shrugged and admitted, “It seems a little odd. I get ‘Seeker’ and ‘Ruffles’, and even – Andraste preserve me…” His hand drifted to the slicked-back mop of blond curls on top of his head. “But why ‘Kitten’?”

Varric smirked. “Because she’d look adorable curled up in somebody’s lap.”

That brought the scowl back, not least because speaking in such a way about a religious icon was tantamount to blasphemy. Unbidden, an image surfaced in his mind of the woman he had seen so tense and bristling on the mountain, with her legs folded and her head tucked in towards her chest, smiling softly, completely at ease. His arms almost itched with the phantom weight of her curled into his side, which was unexpected and entirely unwelcome, so he shoved the idle fantasy away.

“Andraste’s ass, Curly, I’m only pulling your leg. There’s no need to look at me like that.”

“If you don’t want to answer the question, you could just say so.”

“You’re no fun,” Varric told him. “But don’t you think it suits? Are you seriously telling me you don’t think she’s at least a little bit like an itty-bitty kitten?”

Cullen thought back to their encounter at the Temple, the crackle of lightning and the battle-snarl peeled over the Herald’s teeth.

“More like a lioness,” he chuckled. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” came the airy reply. “I just find that a very interesting choice of words coming from the man fabled as ‘the Lion of the Inquisition’.”

“I know what you’re implying, dwarf, and I don’t like it,” Cullen growled. “Now if you’re finished, I have things to do.”

“And Hawke always said it was the scratchy Templar underwear that made you cranky.” When that jab failed to get a reaction, Varric decided to change tack. “Tell me, have you ever seen a human baby?”

“Have I ever …?” Cullen stared at him. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“Well, what does a baby do when something frightens it?” Varric asked, speaking as if his question were nothing more than a logical exercise. “It looks around for the nearest big thing to help it fix the problem. Now puppies –” he gave an expansive wave of his arm – “Puppies are something else. You put a big scary something in front of them, and they’re gonna roll over on their backs and grin and hope they’re too pathetic to kill. Tends not to work too well as a defence mechanism if there’s no momma dog to intervene, but hey, I guess that’s why dogs always come in packs.”

Cullen’s fingers started tapping on the pommel of his sword. “Get to the point.”

“The point is, Curly, cats are different.” Varric scratched his chin again. “Do you remember all the stray cats in Kirkwall? I saw more than my fair share of them, between one friend and another, and let me tell you, a kitten will fluff itself up, stand all alone against the world, and stare down a charging qunari if the situation calls for it.”

Silence fell between them again. He could see it now. When the fighting had died down and they all stood panting with the Fade rift just an emerald sheen in the air, and he had taken Cassandra aside and hissed is she to be trusted, after what we saw? she had curled her lip in bitter self-mockery. I’m told if I prove untrustworthy, it won’t be for long. Then she had gritted her teeth, her left hand fisted at her side, and marched towards the ruins.

“I heard the Herald faced down Cassandra when she woke up the first time,” Cullen said now. “She didn’t even flinch. That’s much more impressive than a qunari.”

Chuckling, Varric nodded. “Mmhm. She’s got guts, that one. She’ll make it through this, don’t worry.” With one last rueful look at the sky, he turned to go, forcing his mind towards the stack of correspondence waiting for him from the Merchants Guild.

“Varric.”

He paused, turned to see the commander shift uncomfortably on his feet.

“Let me know if you hear anything.” It came out as an order, but Varric had spent years learning people, and he heard the note of genuine worry in that voice, even if Cullen failed to notice it himself.

“Sure thing, Curly. You’ll be the first to know.”

--

Cullen thinks back to that day on quiet nights, when exhaustion leaves his eyes heavy, when Maighread dozes against his chest, her hands lightly fisted in his shirt and her breath easing against his neck in soft, even puffs. Moonlight drifts to them tangled together, either from the hole in his roof or the high glass doors that open her room to the sky, and his chest constricts at how impossible it all seems - that of all people, she lets him see this side of her, trusts him with her vulnerability. She shifts, groggy murmurs as she settles deeper against his arms, and he allows Varric this one small, silent victory as her comfort pulls him into sleep: she is, when she deigns to show it, very much like a kitten after all.

[wallyspade]

remember when i made a whole ass event of ur 21st birthday condolences to me

t a g g i n g → Oliver Spade, with mentions of Josh and Olivia aw

t i m e  f r a m e → The morning of Oliver’s birthday

l o c a t i o n →  Oliver’s parents house in new york

n o t e s → happy birthday part 4??? anyways here a little morning of drabble for the parents before they get tURNT

Today was the day. After planning for months today was the big day and Wally couldn’t have been more ecstatic. His baby was turning twenty-one today and in his eye’s that was such a huge accomplishment on Oliver’s account. It was no secrecy that both boys thought they’d never live long enough to see the magical number. After the hell they had been through during their adolescences and London alone would have driven anyone off the edge. Yet they persevered, mostly because they had each other to lean on. Wally couldn’t imagine his life without Oliver nor could he think about where he would be without his soulmate. It was a thought he tried not to think about often.

No, today was going to be filled with nothing but joy. Wally had worked for weeks and planned everything within his power. Since the night was going to be just them (maybe a few others) at the great gatsby party he had planned. Wally felt it was best they spent the morning with their two kids. Since they wouldn’t see their daddies until at least the day after tomorrow. Both Wally and Oliver planned on getting very wasted tonight since on Wally’s 21st Oliver wasn’t legal yet and their first wedding anniversary was the next day. Not the best to be hungover.

He was in his mother in law’s kitchen adding the final touches on the special birthday pancakes he had been making for his husband. Of course he had the help from the littlest spades, though they had made more of a mess than makes pancakes per say. Josh’s dark brown locks were dusted with flour, as well as his tiny fingers and a bit smudged on his cheek. Exactly like his father in every way. Wally could recall many time Oliver had helped and ended being covered in flour and god knows what else what he tried to help. As for Olivia, well he hated getting dirty. So, the little princess happily sat in her high chair watching her papa and brother make breakfast. She did however pick out which sprinkles they were going to use, which was obviously the most important job of all. Wally felt bad really, his mother in law’s kitchen was a slight disaster now thanks to the kids. After a morning cuddles session and perhaps more with his husband he’d make sure to clean up. He might have been a messy person but making a mess in the kitchen of a woman he admired was giving him anxiety. He already had enough of that since he could only imagine Oliver’s reaction to the party. He only hoped his husband wouldn’t be too..upset with him going above and beyond.

The pancakes were finished and set out. Wally had quickly dampened a paper towel to clean off Josh the best he could. The toddlers face might have been flour free now but there were still traces lingering in his hair wally knew only a could bath could get out. “Let’s try to wear the flour next time alright, Joshy?” Wally teased, pulling his son into him to pepper his tiny, adorable face with kisses causing Josh to go into a giggle fit. “Otay papa.” He replied once Wally released him.

“Go see daddy now?” The toddler asked, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yes, baby, we can go see daddy now. Why don’t you go run and wake him up while Livi and I carry in his breakfast, yeah?” It didn’t take long for Josh to scamper away to where Oliver was sleeping soundly, unaware of the waking he was about to get. Making his way to Olivia, Wally bent down to place a kiss to her forehead, taking her out of her high chair as he balanced the little girl on his right hip so he was able to carry the pancakes with some ease. Being the papa’s girl that she was, Olivia immediately clung to Wally’s side. Her itty, bitty hands having a tight grip on his shirt as she leaned into him. God these kids were going to melt his heart. How could he tell his husband no to the possibility of more when they had two little angels?

by the time Wally made it to the door he could hear his husband’s voice. It was deep and slightly scratchy from being woken up so abruptly. His tone was still laced with sleep as he picked up his son and placed him on his chest asking him what he was doing. Though he looked tired once Wally walked into the room, there was still traces of joy evident on his features as he saw his three babies. “Good morning birthday boy.” Wally beamed, placing Olivia down on the bed so she could join her brother in wishing their dad a happy birthday. Their small voices filled the room with high pitched, happy chirps of celebration. It was a mix of happy birthday and other mumbling that you would expect to come a one and almost three year old. “Thank you, kiddos.” Oliver replied, holding his two babies against his chest as they hugged him the best the could.

Now Wally couldn’t let the kids have all the fun. He needed to wish his husband a happy birthday as well. Not that he already hadn’t on instagram with an array of old pictures and a sappy note but in person he hadn’t. Wally placed the pancakes in Oliver’s hands, bending down to capture his lips against Oliver’s. “Happy birthday, my darling.” he mused, fingers lacing through Oliver’s fast short brown locks, that was growing at a remarkable rate. “Thank you, love.” Oliver smiled, leaning up once more to get one more kiss out of his husband. Wally sat himself on the edge of the bed as he let the kids have their dad’s attention since Wally would be having for the rest of the night. His heart swelled with so much love as he watched his husband enjoy his breakfast and interact with the kids. Once the pancakes were finished and the kids had given their father their gifts, which were crafts they had made it was hard to tell what they were exactly but it was the thought that count, the family of four cuddled in bed. They had put on Frozen to watch and through the sing a longs and kids commentary Wally turned to his husband, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as he said. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, Ollie. I hope you’re ready for it.”