TGCF art from 2021 which were very experimental and very much something out of my comfort zone but am still so satisfied with
(gonna ramble more under the cut 👉 )
My main inspiration for these were definitely classic storybook illustration styles and the watercolor-like illustrations included inside the tgcf books which depict hualian's daily slice of life routines as seen below
I wanted to capture that feeling of warmth i got from reading but i also went with the storybook look because their relationship (and by extension broad strokes of the entire plot) really did feel like something out of actual myth or legend; i'm chinese indonesian and was raised surrounded by chinese culture + values so tgcf felt VERY familiar to me, it threw me back to my childhood reading or listening to tales about chinese deities, i'd say the storybook image definitely came into my mind pretty quickly bc of this
I find this style somewhat hard to replicate now but if i could or have the time to, i really want to continue the 'companion pieces to chapter titles ' concept i did with the last 2 pieces (which are of the same chapter title but i was just indecisive 😭😭), i even had 3 more planned based on my favorite titles before burning out back then
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been trying to figure out what exactly it is about aventurine that feels perhaps relatable, or what it is that makes me want to study him like a bug...
and camr to the thought that he's pretty pessimistic for am optimist...but also ob the other side of the same coin, he's optimiaric for a pessimist. kinda both at the same time,.or depending on the day or how you look at him maybe.
he's an optimist becuase he knows he's going to win. he always wins. he has always won his gambles. he knows it will happen again and again. his luck, or gift, or blessing, or whatever you want to call it ensures that. but he's also a pessimist becuase he knows that "win" also always comes with some kind of suffering for him. he wins all his gambles, but at what cost? a lot, actually. so is it really a win? he knows he will win, but he also knows he will be used, abused, sacrificed, broken, or in pain. he expects those to be a consequence of his winning luck, to the point of making sure it happens and becomes self-destructive because of it. he acts calmly like it's ok and is the outcome he wants and calls that a win because it's what he plans and expects. he bets on it and it happens.
but at the same time, he's slowly breaking and seems to want it to end. he tests the limits of his luck to see if it's a real "gift" or if it is all a coincidence and has an end. he probably wants to meet the end to end the pain and suffering, but knows his "luck" won't allow it. he wants to be against the luck and see if he can win. a whole contradiction it itself. his luck kept him alive so many times and continues to do so. it will always do so, unless perhaps his end is the goal. what if he bets on losing this time? bets in meeting his end? he needs to get lucky enough to achieve that goal. flip his lucky fate by turning his luck around, make his end the final lucky win.
but it seems like he either lost for once and didn't meet his end....maybe his luck truly does intend on keeping him alive...or he changed his mind in the end and got lucky enough to get out of meeting his end once again...
he's still a bit of an enigma to me and i'm not sure exactly what happened. but he's for sure a complex and amusing character (even if I still want to put him into a snow globe and shake it as hard as I can) and this whole penacony story is too complex for my soggy trashcan brain lmao but i'm enjoying the ride
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cough. here's a little super short fic i wrote bc i make those too. be sure to check out the silly extra details i added in the tags!
@get-rammed
Monty lets out a heavy sigh, sitting on the much too small couch in his room, his handler close by his side, messing around with wires in the open compartment on his arm. Something went wrong with his claws again, and management is convinced that it’s the programming or the wiring that’s the problem, sicking his handler on the problem again and again. Monty doesn’t think it’s either of those things.
He huffs again and drops his head onto his free hand, boredom clawing at his... shell. His handler bumps with a small clank.
“Sit still, you big baby. I’ll be done in a minute.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’ve never been one to sit still, sweets.”
“Yeah, well, you’re gonna today.”
He rolls his eyes again, resisting the urge to let out another huff. He knows fusing over this is only gonna make it take longer. That and… he can see the bags under his handler’s eyes. It’s late. Far later than any other employee stays, except those working the graveyard shift. It seems like even the other animatronic handlers have gone home for the day. He can tell that they’re tired, but they never bring it up to him. They probably don’t want to worry him, all things considered, but that just makes Monty even more anxious. They look half asleep already, so Monty decides to occupy them with the most meaningless conversation he can muster.
“Hey, so, like…” Monty trails off, rolling his free hand at the wrist. “I barely saw any, uh, human staff around today, even though it was super fuckin’ busy. Why’s that?”
His handler stops, blinking for a second. “Oh, it’s, uh, Labor Day. It’s like a national holiday about unions or something, and people usually get the day off.”
Monty raises a brow. “Why didn’t you get the day off?”
They snort. “You don’t get the day off, so I don’t get the day off.”
Monty hums. “... That’s pretty shitty for us then, huh?”
They laugh, patting his arm. “Yeah. It is. Hey, I just finished up re-wiring everything. Give me a test and see if everything works right?”
Monty obliges, clenching his fists and spinning them around at the wrist. He mimics plenty of movements he makes while playing on stage, and nothing stutters, nothing stalls, or makes any weird noises. His internal diagnostics show no issues, either. All seems well, so he leans back and gives a smug, shit-eating smile. One that’s familiar.
“All’s workin’,” he replies, keeping up his smile when he sees the weight lifted off his handler by the news. They don’t like being comforted. Not directly, anyway.
“Great,” they sigh, slouching into a more relaxed position. They close up the compartment on Monty’s arm, giving it one last, solid pat.
“You good to recharge and everything?” They ask, packing up their small tool bag and tossing it in some random corner of the room. They barely put it away anymore, but management hasn’t caught on yet. Or maybe his handler just doesn’t care that they’re supposed to put it away. Either is possible. “Do you want me to lay with you?”
Monty thinks as they bustle around the room, turning down the lights and doing a cursory glance at his recharge station. He does want them to lay with him. He always does. But Monty sees the exhaustion in their shoulders and feels some kind of misplaced guilt. They’re this tired because he’s a Glamrock now, not just a side attraction. He became more of a handful. He broke more. He needed them more at all hours of the day. They’re his handler. He’s tired, and he’s not even human.
“Naw,” he says, tilting his head and smiling. “I’m good.”
“Alrighty then,” his handler puts on a brave smile, grabbing their oversized Monty jacket and slinging it over their shoulders. Before, Monty would’ve teased them about being such a simp, how they don’t need his merch because they already wear his face all day, or how they could literally just zip up their uniform, but he lets it go for tonight.
“Se you tomorrow, big guy.”
Monty doesn’t comment on how today is already tomorrow.
“Goodnight, cher.”
His handler leaves, muttering about how they’ll probably need to catch a bus because they “don’t think they can drive like this,” and Monty wants nothing more than to invite them back. To give them the whole couch and let them sleep. But for all the crazy hours Fazbear Entertainment expects of them, they’re not allowed to stay overnight. No one is allowed to stay overnight, except for the night shift workers, who all had to sign crazy amounts of paperwork, and they both know it.
So, instead, Monty watches them make their way to the entrance. He watches as they struggle with their ID until the heavy metal doors rise, and they can slip out the door. He strains his eyes to see them disappear into the dark until the metal doors obscure them from view and hopes for all it’s worth that tomorrow will be easier.
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please ignore any silly typos im p sure i got them all but its super late. i wanna post this tho so im posting it. i may or may not repost this later but like. as a better version lmao ram pls tell me if monty is OOC i was punching AIR trying to write this guy 😭 i thought i knew him well and then BAM no the fuck i dont
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