#nooneasknov

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Day nineteen of No One Except @mr-orion Asked November (NoOneExOriAskNov)

A random map cause I’m tired. This might be the smallest one I’ve ever draw, with a real careful 0.5mm mechanical pencil and way too much erasing. The lighting situation is crap so I taped him to my dresser.

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Day 2 of No One Asked November, or NoOneAskNov. Apologies for my crap photo taking skills.

My designs for the more ambiguous Minecraft mobs, including several that never made it into the game. You’ll always have my vote, Monster of the Ocean Depths.

A few notes:

- Great Hungers can open their mouth nearly 90 degrees, like thylacines (aka Tasmanian tigers)

- Phantoms have vestigial lower legs

- Striders have vestigial arms

- Rascals look something like bipedal turtles

- Monsters of the Ocean Depths/Barnacles are like gulper eels with toothed beaks

- Shulkers are literally just purple clams that spit weird magic saliva when provoked

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Day three of No One Asked November (NoOneAskNov). A slightly better photo this time. The script is Chahvinik, created by @thecrazyneographist.

This is She of the Painted and the Golden Gate, the Deity of San Francisco. She is an enigmatic one, even among the city gods considered ‘strange’ by the old-timers, as despite her relative small size, she is the most powerful god in Northern California. Painted acts as the head of the collective known as We of the Bayshore and the Rolling Fog, which represents the entire SF Bay Area.

Half of her hair is dark like the water of the bay, cresting like waves and dotted with seabirds. The other half is pale like the fog called Karl, roiling and thick and full of unknown things. Her body is where she gets the epithet Painted, patterned as it is with graffiti. Her legs are those of a pigeon; one is constantly alight with fire, and the other is bandaged with the Pride flag of Progress. She bears the tail of a sea lion and the wing of a pigeon; one arm is bound with the cables of the Golden Gate, and on her head is a stack of halos that mimics the dome of her city’s hall.

Under the cut is a little ditty of an introduction to She of the Painted and the Golden Gate.

I am rather beautiful, they tell me. They take photos of me, of my Painted Faces, of my Speaking Hill, of my Prideful Colors and of my Golden Towers. They are mostly very nice, and it is somewhat embarrassing, to be frank.

I am loud, cawing and yelping and screaming, beeping and rumbling and crackling. I stink, of people and death and food and love, of the sea mixing with the rivers and the smoke of the wood of the ages. I used to not think myself beautiful, not in my entirety. But my People, that piece of Humanity that call me home, they tell me I am beautiful.

The lady in the coffee shop in North Beach says I am beautiful, says that I am full of dogs and good food and fun nights out with friends. She says that she would rather be here than anywhere else.

The man in the warehouse in Bayshore says that I am beautiful, says that I create jobs and feed his children with my bounty. He says that I am the reason he still lives.

The person on stage at the Castro theatre says I am beautiful, says that I made their dream come true when no-one else could. They say that I am the thing that saved them.

He of the Smog and the Glittering Lights calls me little sister, and says that I am much more beautiful than he was at this age. He tells me that We, that us Cities of Humanity, are always beautiful to the people who live within Us.

I know that they are right, as every time a pup leaps at a pigeon, every time a tourist buys clam chowder, every time a cable car powers through traffic in the hills, that I am beautiful.

And every one of my people are too.

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Day 4 of No One Asked November (NoOneAskNov (except @mr-orion actually cares so the name’s only three-fourths accurate now)). An even slightly better photo than yesterday.

Horizons AU designs for two familiar Watchers and two familiar Listeners. They’ve got everything to do with the next fic in this au for me, in which I haven’t even finished the first one.

Starting at top left, there’s Mother Spore Grian, 5 AM Pearl, Pirate/Mean Gills Martyn, and Sheriff Jimmy except I apparently don’t know how to draw a cowboy hat. For worldbuilding and shenanigan reasons, Grian and Martyn are parrots, Pearl is a llama-folk, and Jimmy is a horse-folk.

For confusing lore reasons, these four each get a new pair of limbs when strange conditions are met in the End/Third Dimension. Those lore reasons will be the main focus/driving force/status quo upsetter in Give me back my heart you wingless thing, whenever I get around to finishing Cracking like a dry branch in a westward wind. Shameless plugs all around.

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I’m probably going to alternate between worldbuilding content here and fanfic/fandom content over on @activate-shadow-of-the-window for No One Asked November, aka NoOneAskNov.

So yeah, go over there if ya like Hermitcraft, Night Vale, World Trigger, or whatever else I manage to spit out.