#so i got some new medium for my oils and got some new inks and pencils

[despite-everything]

sick and tired of being so fucking depressed i need to make art again

[anticmiscellaney]

as an aspiring comic artist looking to move from graphite and oil painting to more ink/inkwash/watercolor like you- could you explain your process a bit? any tips for beginners? i love your art and you're at the top of my inspiration list right now :,)

Thank you! I've been using ink and watercolour for a long time, and ink/inkwash is definitely my favourite medium. A key tip for getting started would be to know the different kinds of ink available because they all work differently. The three main ones are:

Dye-based ink - these have their uses, but they are not lightfast at all (fade quickly) and they act kinda weird. The colours are very vibrant, but they tend to dry very fast, not be waterproof (tricky for layering), and stain the paper. I use very few dye-based inks. Some ink brands look like they have a big colour range, but when you look at the boxes half of them say "dye based" - don't buy Higgins those.

Acrylic ink - think of this as very liquid acrylic paint. There are a lot of fancy options, many specialty kinds (metallics, pearls, neons), but they aren't going to give you the transparent inkwash look. It's good for drawing opaque lines over colour, and you can dilute it with water for a wash, but it gets chalky. Waterproof may vary (test it first), and it usually has a matte finish. White acrylic ink is well worth having as you can detail over solid black or tint it with coloured pigmented inks, and god knows I love using neons, but I treat acrylic ink like "effects" ink. It’s not my main drawing ink. Daler Rowney is good and widely available (pigment-based is not the same as pigmented ink, this is still acrylic ink), they have a few lines at different prices. Liquitex is decent.

Pigmented/India ink - this is my favourite kind of ink and probably what you want! Pigmented ink dilutes well (it’s a transparent medium like watercolour) and often has a glossier finish depending on shellac content, and it will say on the bottle if it’s waterproof (test that first). It’s good for brush or nib, good for layering, works nicely with watercolour and other types of ink, can be mixed to make new colours/tints...she’s got it all. If you’re in Australia, Art Spectrum is great, I stock up every time I’m back there. If you’re elsewhere, I recommend Speedball for black ink (Blick Black Cat in the US is good). Dr Martins Bombay India Ink has great colours and they’re usually affordable.

There are many brands and everyone has their preferences, and over time you will find your own. I have a mix of different types and brands, though probably fewer than you’d think. Get a small bottle in one or two colours and play around, see if you like it before investing in a set. Don’t buy fountain pen ink or Rapidograph ink for nib/brush, those are best suited to being used in specific types of pens.

The nibs I use are Hunt #512s. #102s (called crow quills) are popular and I like them too, but they are very sharp and will rip up your paper, and can be a little too flexible and hard to control. The #512 is a good all-rounder with a smooth line capable of variation, and I think they’re a solid choice for a beginner. These nibs and holders are cheap and widely available. I don’t buy expensive watercolour brushes because ink will wreck them a lot faster than watercolour will. What you want to look for is the fibers holding a point - the brush should not have bedhead.

My only real advice to someone looking to try watercolours is to not buy the cheapest shittiest kind. You know from oil painting that all paints are not created equal and bad paint is going to frustrate you, especially when you’re starting out. I started with one of these twelve years ago and I still use it in conjunction with other sets I’ve built myself, I just refill the pans from (better quality) tubes when they get low. They last a long time. So do bottles of ink.

I’d like to do a process post, but I’m not sure what would be interesting or helpful to you, and I use ink/watercolour/gouache in a lot of different ways. If there’s a specific piece you liked the look of, I’m happy to demonstrate that method, or I can just go through my favourite approach.

As for comics...the best advice I can give you is pretty general.

Anatomy is a rewarding life-long study, but what really counts for narrative art, over technical accuracy, is GESTURE, EXPRESSION, and BODY LANGUAGE. Look at people. Look at how they move, look at their faces, look at their hands, listen to how they talk. In comics, you are the director and the actors.

Environments are a bonus character in your story and can add a lot of depth and atmosphere! Understanding perspective will make using them a lot easier.

Do not start with your graphic novel idea, start with a short story (under eight pages) and finish it. Finish it. Fucking finish it. Then do some more, getting longer over time. The best idea you never do is worth less to your progress than the worst finished piece.

There aren’t a lot of books that dig into the nuts and bolts of sequential storytelling for artists in a way I like. Filmmaking books are handy, but they’re dealing in moving images and don’t have to worry about page design. There are some good “how to make comics” books (the two Will Esiner did are my favourites), but as a genre it can be very hit or miss. I always look at what the writer/artist has made to see if I want to listen to their instructions - if you hate their art and think the graphic novel they made sucks, don’t buy their how-to book.

Bob McLeod, one of my teachers, gave us all this list:

These rules aren’t inflexible, but they cover the big issues.

For actual storytelling advice, the best one I have read was Directing The Story by Francis Glebas. It’s aimed at storyboard artists, which I was, but it discusses visual storytelling and explains how to approach it and the reasoning behind choices in a way that is useful for anyone making sequential art.

[seawing-vibes]

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYPONY ! ! Here’s some art summary thangs <3 ! Template is by Mintcokev on DeviantArt !! I did one of full pieces and one of Sillay Doodles

Explanations of every piece & stuff is below read the readmore ! + links to the full work if its posed online !

First Template:

January -> This Sora Piece ! I am honestly still super proud of how it turned out , it was fun to work on and looking at it still gives me that nice vibe I was in while drawing it

February -> This headshot of my OC Elk! I developed and expanded on her story this year and did some headshots for their TH, still super proud of how the shading came out here ,,

March -> lmao nothin , not sure what happened in March but I dont have anything there aside from sillay Doodles

April -> This design of Blaze! One of my fav designs I’ve done recently .. shes just so sillay To Me

May -> This piece of my friend and I’s cat ocs ! Stickpaw & Frostclaw, two silly fellas <3 something possessed me here I’ve never drawn a kibby this well since and Im still super proud of this

June -> This reference of my oc Dee!!!! ITS DEE ! ! EVERYONE SAY HI TO DEE <3 ! ! ! ! ! I was so happy to finally give her a proper ref , shes one of my favorite ocs of all time and this came out so well , it looks so much like her!!!!

July -> This artfight attack! This piece was honestly just a blast to work on, the background and frame design and expression were all fun to illustrate

August -> These refs of my lomp ocs! Lomps are fictional guys made by my good friend and August was just the Month for them. These guys are (bottom to top) Fizz, Roe, and Skipper! They’re . Normal <3

September -> This piece of my fursona Kenny ! ! Just a fun piece to work on again, the colors came together way better than I thought they would

October -> This piece of my oc Houndcall! They’re feeling normal about their leader being possessed! This was like a weird experimental painted piece and ou .. I really loved working on it I wanna do more things with that method

November -> Not posed online! Surprisingly, this is a wip of a self-portrait I’m doing for class! Fathead Minnows and Rainbow Trout !! This canvas is massive (taller than me ,, which aint much but still!!) and I’ve been cracking at it for a while but hammered out the details of the trout in November so! It’s acrylic but I really wish I could’ve done oil instead .. acrylic dont blend well

December -> The final fella ! My idiot son ! Also not posed online , this is a linocut printed on hand-made paper! Fun fact, I make my own paper and my own Lino cuts as my main medium, I just cant afford the proper transfer ink, but I got some from school to use so ! My idiot dragon linocut son was born ! I hate him because he wont print proper but this piece ended up working out. Its lino-ink on handmade paper with red micron pen over it

Second Template:

January -> DNA Helicase

February -> Valentine’s Day Gift <3 !

March -> Not (publicly) posted online doodle of my epic oc Anton Bayheart giving his grandson a thumbs up :)

April -> Not (publicly) posted doodles of my ocs Sebastian (left) and Dee (right) (you saw her ref earlier <33) having a normal convo !

May -> A shot from This video of my friends ocs … the one depicted is Quickpaw <3

June -> Not posted doodle of Breezewhipser giving Rippletooth some good advice (it was not good advice) (ripple just learns hes aro)

July -> Not (publicly) posed doodle of my Oc’s Garret (BALD) and Benny (TIRED) . Also just two normal guys (they’re divorced) (and obsessed with eachother)

August -> This doodle of my ocs Savi & Skipper (Skip’s ref is in August first template <3) . Music taste

September -> a small part of this cat sketch page ! Beetlekit getting bullied by his cousins

October -> This doodle of Skipper . I appreciate him

November -> I dont know where this came from actually. Its my friends oc’s Redstone and Bumblebuzz staring kitty-like at my oc Specklestep (she is married to Red and Bumble is their daughter)

December -> Doodle of Tide from this whiteboard ! !

Have a great new year everyone ! ! ! Thanks for reading through all that if you did lmao

[advancedimagesblog-mel]

Blog Post #4

-What are you passionate about?

I’m quite passionate about illustration, photography, design (obviously), playing video games (specifically the Sims 3), listening to good music, eating good food, and learning stupid things from the internet. All these interests mostly stem from just learning about things I like. Once I’m invested in something I have to know everything about it.

-What culture/geography/region/country do you identify with?

Canada, not really, but I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve actually never been anywhere outside of Ontario and Quebec. I’d love to travel around but I’m not rich :*). I’m also Portuguese, but I've unfortunately never been to Portugal. I’d love to go but I don’t know any of my family over there and they probably don’t know of my existence. However, my boyfriend and I would really like to go to Japan! I don’t personally connect with it, but we made plans to go eventually, sometime after graduation and I’m set on making the trip happen.

-Is there a design, object or product that you love or hate and why?

D2L/Brightspace!!! I hate it (lmao). It’s not awful but there are way too many ways to do the same thing, which makes everyone so confused. Blackboard was surprisingly much easier, and I kind of miss it (like Stockholm syndrome). I just wish I could see my grades properly in 2DL, blackboard had a nice grades panel and you could compare your grades with your classmates anonymously.

-Are there any recent events/news, Canadian or otherwise, that you FEEL for?

Yesterday (Sept. 26th) there was a guy swinging an axe outside of TMU (toronto metropolitan university). My sister goes there, so it was kinda scary. She thankfully is taking a course that operates outside of the campus grounds, but it’s so wild that people would go to a college campus and swing axes.

-Is there an experience that impresses you while travelling [people, place, service]?

I rarely travel, but I went to Italy once in 2021! The people were nice-ish even though I didn’t speak Italian, and the food was quite good. I was shocked however, that they rarely serve vegetables (I was dying for cucumbers or broccoli after the trip). The trains were also quite fast, but it was still a long trip when taking them. My family and I went from the top of Italy (Del Garda) all the way to Rome in one day. We actually went twice, but it was exhausting.

-Do you consider yourself a T-shaped individual? If so, what area/discipline do you know well? What other areas/disciplines do you know to some extent?

I would consider myself a jack of all trades when it comes to art (aside from sculpture, I suck at that). I’m quite good at photography, design, illustration, and pretty much use any kind of physical medium (oil, acrylic, pastel, water colour, ink, pencil crayon…) due to the years I spent doing art over having life experiences (T-T). I would say I have a deeper knowledge in design, as that's what i’m studying, and I like learning more about it to hopefully aid me in future job prospects. However, in terms of weird knowledge (my favourite kind), I know a lot about video games, but with specific video games, I know A LOT about them. More specifically, Undertale…I KNOW cringe. What am I 13? I got invested in the game when it came out and I still get really invested in topics I like. I will go out of my way to learn everything I can about them, almost to the point where I learn things that aren’t even true, just theories (a game theory :0 -matt patt).

[softgrungeprophet]

thinking out loud about art process/medium

pros of tablet (screenless):

-no art supply costs after initial cost (in my case it was like 80 bucks cause i use an old bamboo pen&touch)

-hand doesn't get in the way of seeing

-1 physical tool for everything (pen)

-can resize, undo, erase ink, and very importantly use bucket tool

-coloring is easier (see bucket tool)

-hotkeys (ctrl-z....)

-no need for scanner, digital only takes up less physical space

-pattern brushes! 3d models! assets!

- rulers, grids, snapping etc. shift for straight line, line tools

-change colors easily

-choose canvas size arbitrarily and at any resolution i want, plus cropping and cutting, copying, pasting etc.

-screen doesn't need a light on to see (at least not these days lol)

-text tool

-some tablets come with free software bundles (mine came with photoshop and corel, though not the new ones lol)

-if tablet is durable, may be cheaper in the long run (my first lasted about 5 years? i think? only busted because cable got damaged; current one is still fine)

-weird filters and effects, blur, etc.

-bitches love layers (i'm bitches)

-i can resize shit when i inevitably fuck up proportions

cons:

-upfront cost is expensive if it breaks (tho there are more cheap options on the market now)

-less intuitive for my brain-to-hand connection and coordination personally... harder for me to recreate lines digitally --always impressed by people who can follow their sketch precisely cause it's literally impossible for me 😂 i've gotten better at the intuitive stuff since i first started 10 yrs ago but it's still always a liiiittle awkward haha... but tbh this is still true for traditional to a lesser extent

-i get tangled in my cables a lot 😂

-digital storage on pc only, have to have printer for physical copies and colors can come out weird since i draw in rgb lol, risk of deletion or file loss or corruption

-using refs can get cluttered on only one monitor

-handwriting becomes even more illegible and calligraphy pens are kinda meh (at least defaults are)

-hand hurty because cramped space

-future...? longevity not any clearer than physical media tbh. might last forever or might be gone in an instant, even before considering future of technology... shrug! lol

-screen colors and brightness?! girl help my art looks different on every device i own 😂

-if you forget to save it's gone (luckily i save compulsively)

-csp text tool kind of mediocre tbh

-companies want you to buy new programs, stop supporting old ones, charge subscriptions, etc etc etc....

pros of traditional art:

-tactility and naturalness of hand on paper makes lineart and stuff a little easier--i'm still not very coordinated though so i still have issues with this regardless of medium...

-can look at reference on screen separate instead of swapping between tabs or cramming on one screen or canvas (physical references like books or objects make this moot for either medium tbf)

-medium experimentation easier than digital in that it lets you feel the different textures and behaviors in a way that's less functional digitally (tho there are some great brush sets) and more tactile or even potential 3-dimensional (ie thick layers of oil paint or mixed media painting with sculptural techniques)

- handwriting is (marginally) more legible...

-physical object, already exists, cannot be deleted (but ...)

-color not completely dependent on screen (but can still be affected by lighting or fading, in fairness)

-i like doodling with ballpoint pens (i do all my thumbnails with bic pens and yellow legal pads or sketchbooks lol)

-if you don't save, nothing happens because it's just an object you made irl lol there's nothing to save; it exists (see physical object)

-no cables

-no download or program (or subscription) required (not that i use Photoshop except the free copy that came with my tablet but it's relevant as a digital artist)

cons:

-buy new art supplies constantly cause stuff runs out; markers are expensive (though ink refills in long run less expensive than buying new markers, still needs frequent replacement for certain colors such as skin tones, still adddds up)

-have to buy or otherwise acquire everything separately, can't experiment in different mediums without buying more stuff... different paper.... different pen types... ink types.... etc. and then if you don't like it or use it, it's like.... ok i'm out $20 (or more)

-hand is always in the way! ahh!

-no undo or any of that and no saving copies unless manually tracing or you scan it first

-if you are bad at letter placement you can't move or resize 😂 i def have trouble with this sometimes lol

-i don't like coloring in traditional mediums and filling large inks is time consuming and generally unpleasant... alcohol markers are better but i am just not a colorist at the end of the day... obviously other people like it more (i enjoy abstract watercolor though)

-can't change colors after the fact... (probably good to swatch huh)

-erase erase erase ugh i hate erasing...

-can't hide layers or group together cause it's all one layer (at least, in practice. i'm sure it's technically scientifically in layers of ink, paint etc.)

-white gel pens never work 😂 and i can't do large areas of white on top unless I'm using opaque paint (not always feasible) (maybe i should have become a painter, huh)

-shitty or cheap materials feel tangibly worse to use; also my inking pen of choice is microns and similar felt tip technical pens, and they can feel unpleasant on a lot of paper types, plus fast lines are harder to do without skipping and scratching, and larger nibs often aren't very good tbh (maybe my pens are just cheap?)

-have to manually measure out frames, panels, borders, use physical ruler for straight lines, often with pen bleed if you do it wrong....

-doesn't have any of those easy assets, models, pattern brushes etc. (well, partially; they do make stuff like screentone, manga background assets, and you can do collage in theory or trace stuff if you have a lightbox)

-messy or smelly depending on what you use (paint pens, alcohol markers etc), sometimes requires extra ventilation or working outside for safety (tho really at that point you probably wouldn't be using a technique that works digitally anyway so i guess it's an inevitability lol)

-some materials take longer to dry than others, need protective coating or are not archival/will fade

-physical object, requires scanning and editing (esp to make copies), takes up space, can be destroyed or lost (not so different from digital in that regard) also takes up more physical space to store lots of drawing or paintings, art supplies, etc.

-requires working space especially if you work larger or are using lots of colors etc.

-needs light (... usually. i did make a painting in the dark once but that's usually not practical lol)

-cannot type on drawing (well. you CAN but it's less straightforward than clicking a text tool)

-hand still hurty

-no resizing! have to live with fucked up proportions 💀 (i'm working on it)

no point to this just thinking about things i like and dislike about both ways of creating

when it comes to writing i will take typing over handwriting any day though

[snowinthe-south]

My blog isn’t dedicated to one subject in particular. So this is a short “about me” as well as a list of my usual "content" that I reblog, or once in a while post about. I'm making this because I've suddenly started getting followers recently and want them to know the kind of trashcan fire they're getting into.

As far as my posts/reblogs go, I’ve literally had this blog since I was 14 years old and more cringe than I am now... so some of my oldest posts are probably questionable.

About me:

I love to write and I hope to publish my own books someday, as I’ve had several plotted out for quite some time now. Alas, I enjoy reading other books more than I enjoy finding time to write... I love to read so much. I love art of all kinds, I do digital art and also traditional mediums; watercolor, oil, acrylic, sketching, markers, colored pencils, ink, etc, I love learning new art tricks. I love the VOCALOID software and have been using it since I was 13, I’m partial to my girl, SeeU. I enjoy the occasional video game. I love animals, so so much. And I adore music and will listen to anything once, so my playlist goes from broadway to K-pop to the 50′s to today’s hits- you get the idea.

I’m a 25 year old girl from the United States, specifically, North Carolina. I've been a a pharmacy tech for around 6 years, and I recently graduated with my associates degree (general studies/transfer degree), and I'm hoping to save up and get my bachelor's degree in disciplinary studies (focusing on fine art, history, and English) in the next few years. I prefer to remain slightly anonymous on here, going by Snow rather than my name, because I guess I’m embarrassed of myself and my interests? I don’t know. I mean, I don’t share anything dirty or “bad” but I’d die if my mom ever found this... weird, huh? I have a “real” blog as well, where I’d like to share some of my art or writing and I do use my real name and everything.

Now, here are a few of my favorite things- meaning I probably post/reblog about these things.

BOOKS:

There are far too many to name, but these are the favorites that come to mind:

The Book Thief (my favorite)

Wizard of Oz

The Great Gatsby

Pride and Prejudice

They Both Die at The End

The Raven Cycle

A Dog's Purpose

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

The Hunger Games

The Inheritance Series

GAMES:

This includes video games and mobile games.

Pokemon

Fire Emblem (including FEH)

Legend of Zelda (Only familiar with OoT, MM, BoTW, and have yet to finish ToTK)

Portal/Portal 2

Team Fortress 2

Twisted Wonderland

Fictif (primarily Last Legacy)

The Arcana (pre-D*rian)

Touchstarved (I am a proud backer!!!)

Mystic Messenger (haven't played in over 3 years)

Obey Me (casual interest/don't keep up with it)

To The Moon

Finding Paradise

Baldur's Gate 3 (current hyperfixation of 7 months and hoping to play 1 and 2 soon)

Dragon Age (Origins, working on 2 and don't like it, will play Inquisition and read the books eventually)

SHOWS/MOVIES:

I don’t keep up with many shows or movies anymore, but again, favorites that come to mind are as followed:

Phantom of The Opera

Death Note (favorite)

RWBY

The Princess Bride

I Love Lucy

Only Murders in The Building

Goblin; The Great and Lonely God

Hetalia (my second anime- will always love it, don't come after me because of it)

Spy X Family

Crash Landing On You

Once Upon a Time (never watched the last season)

The Dick Van Dyke Show

This is Us

Jane The Virgin

The Great Gatsby

MUSIC:

I listen to everything and anything, but these artists are some of my favorites:

BTS ( absolute favorite)

Halsey (also my favorite)

Zara Larsson

Connie Francis

The Temptations

Boyz to Men

PVRIS

Jack White

The White Stripes

Dolly Parton

Hadestown (musical)

The Phantom of The Opera (musical)

Hamilton (musical)

Wowaka

Musicals:

Phantom of The Opera (all time favorite, loved it when I was 5 years old, my first tattoo was the mask, want a chandelier tattoo, got to see it live before the Broadway show closed and bawled my eyes out)

Love Never Dies (I DON'T CARE IF IT IS BASICALLY CANON FANFICTION I LOVE IT)

Wicked

Hadestown (have seen it twice on tour!)

Hamilton (definitely had a phase, still enjoy it, first musical I've ever seen live, saw it on tour once)

Ride The Cyclone

The English Death Note musical that only had a demo tape for Act I (I WILL NEVER GET OVER IT)

Little Shop of Horrors (I thoroughly dislike anything but the 2003 cast though)

[caffeinated-croissant]

Blue, Red Black and Infinity

This is my submission for @writersmonth ‘s pride collection. The prompt was to write using all the colors of a flag. I chose the Polyamorous flag with a story featuring Jason Grace, Percy Jackson, and Rachel Dare.

Jason Anderson Grace and Rachel Elizabeth Dare were artists. They each had their own preferences of mediums, styles, and inspiration. Jason preferred his sketchbooks, his ink, his charcoal and his oil pastels. Rachel on the other hand loved acrylic paint, canvas, water color, and chalk. Jason’s style tended to be more realistic in nature while Rachel took on the approach of abstract and full of color that maybe never was there but always should’ve been. Most of Jason’s inspiration comes from the influences around him and what he metaphorically consumes in content. Rachel takes her inspiration as it comes to her, maybe it’ll be a dream or a random thought or maybe the world just speaks to her long enough for something to form. 

Between Rachel and Jason there was one thing they could easily agree to in terms of art, their boyfriend Percy Jackson was a fucking masterpiece and he was the perfect surface to work together with their art. 

Right now in their three bedroom apartment, Percy was sitting on one of the special chairs in the shared art studio as Rachel and Jason used his chest as a canvas. Rachel was sitting to his left on a cushioned stool while Jason was over on his right sitting on a matching stool. They were both using non-toxic paint/ paint markers while listening to a playlist Percy had made for them. 

“Is this a together project or two separate pieces?” Percy asked them as his eyes wandered around the studio with so many different pieces, some finished, others works in progress, and a small portion currently discontinued. 

“It’s gonna be a singular piece.” Jason answered not bothering to look up and lose his concentration of whatever he was. 

Percy didn’t have to see what it was for him to know it would turn out breathtaking. “What is it?” 

“It’s just a little something we’ve been working on as a surprise.” Jason barely glanced up but in that split second of eye contact Percy could feel himself getting lost in the ever changing blue of the sky. It could shift from a blue mixed with dark grays and tinged with purples, into a baby blue tinted with silvers and grays and finally into the shade it was now: the deep clear blue of the summer sky. These were Percy’s favorite shades of his long time favorite color. 

=

“Rachel, why are your initials the only ones that make any sense?” Percy was lying in the middle of the bed and staring up into the popcorn ceiling void of their apartment. Jason was curled next to him with his arm firly locked around Percy’s waist. Rachel was on his other side partially ready for the day and partially distracted with new painting ideas. 

She glanced over and tilted her head at him, “What do you mean?”

“Out of all our initials, only yours makes any sense. Mine go like pej or P.E.J and both sound weird. Jason’s are jag which sounds like jagged or they end up as J.A.G which also sounds weird. But then your initials go and make the word red, like your hair.” 

“I dunno but I guess I’m just special like that,” she laughed before getting up to finish getting ready. 

“With the craft fair coming up next weekend, do you want me to run by the craft store and get anything?”

“That would honestly be great, I need more of those jars and the red paint you got a while ago.”

“Alright then, when Jason wakes up I’ll write everything down and head out.” He pulled her in for a soft kiss.

=

The rooftop of their apartment was not Percy’s first choice for a date but as it turns out it definitely isn’t the worst idea that was ever thought of. And as long as they all stayed away from the edge Percy knew he’d be fine and so would his lovers. 

The date itself was Jason’s idea and he set it all up to surprise Rachel and Percy. He set out blankets and cushions from the apartment to make a comfy little nest for them all. They ended up watching the movie Tangled together with Jason sitting in the middle. When the movie started playing the song I See The Light Jason looked up from the movie and over to the loves of his life on either side of him. They were both somewhere between attentive and close to nodding off. 

Jason gave a soft kiss to Rachel’s forehead, expecting to be able to place a soft kiss in the dark curls on his other side. Instead Rachel blinked up at him before shifting to lay on top of him and make out.

As the song finished they broke apart before shifting further to see Percy easily curled into Jason’s side, more asleep than awake. The pair glanced at each other before Rachel gave a mischievous smirk. 

Jason shook his head, already having an idea of what she wanted to do. 

Rachel gave him a light kiss on the nose before moving her attention to her new target. 

In order to at least try and stop Rachel before she pounced, Jason wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her right against him. 

Rachel was not complacent in being physically held down, not when a perfectly kissable Percy was right next to her, and so she struggled and wrestled with the one armed Jason. Naturally they both became absorbed in the fight as it escalated to the point where Jason started using both his arms. They rolled around on the roof for a bit each trying to pin the other, until finally Rachel was sitting on top of him with both of his arms pinned to his side. 

She was already breathing heavily as she leaned down to kiss him, when they once again broke apart she remembered why they were wrestling. Looking over she saw her other lover sitting up still looking half asleep. He was wrapped up in what looked like one of Jason’s oversized hoodies, and his black curls were messier than usual. 

Rachel glanced down at Jason before trying to book it over to Percy. That did not work nearly as well as she hoped, considering now it was a free for all race and, as long as no one got hurt, sabotage was fair game. 

The race was not long lived but was eventually won by Jason who easily pulled Percy into his lap and kissed him. As the nice girlfriend (and sore loser) she was, Rachel of course started trying to tickle them both; and let it be known to the world Jason and Percy were both very ticklish but so was she. Jason and Percy were forced apart by Percy’s breathless giggles. Jason of course took his revenge and their war began again this time as a free for all in a lawless land.

The fight was long and left them exhausted. But left them with certain highlights like Jason being ganged up on by Rachel and Percy, or at the end when Percy started laughing so hard he had to wave a white flag as his chest hurt. After the white flag was called they all paused to collapse next to one another and catch their breath. 

“Guys, look up at the moon tonight,” Percy said, trying to point out the full moon above. 

“It’s huge!” Jason pointed out. 

“That's cause tonight’s a super moon.” 

“What’s that mean?” Rachel asked, looking over at Percy. 

“Basically that it’s a full moon and this is the closest the moon will be to the earth this year.”

The trio didn’t talk very much after that, instead studying a combination of each other and the inky black of the night sky with its infinite stars.

[gardenpansy]

Happy New Year! I really admire your work, I have been trying to dabble more in pastels and watercolor so your art has been very inspiring! I was curious what materials do you use (along with any advice you have), if you feel comfortable sharing it. Thank you I’m advance 💓

Happy New Year☺️✨ thanks! I use mungyo oil pastels and those lil paper blenders! I sometimes use q-tips (like in the floral brick piece)! And just regular mixed media paper. I don’t really have oil pastel tips bc it really is to let my inner child run wild and have fun without caring about “errors” and “rules.” I don’t know what’s right to do tbh lol

And I have a mix of watercolor paints that I use in all my palettes! It’s tricky to really say because for blues I really love Mijello! And for yellows I like M. Graham! BUT!!!! Just use/find what’s affordable to you n have lotsa fun!! I like painting a very very faint sketch in watercolor of the scene! So light that when I finish the lines arent visible anymore (just to avoid using pencil tbh😌). Doing ink drawings+watercolor wash is a great way to practice!! Draw some fruits or animals or flowers and fill them with color!

Honestly my best and most offered tips are:

#1: to not think about how “good” you are compared to others! Watercolor.. and other media too.. is SUCH a distinct medium and YOU are such a distinct person and we each have distinct feelings and understandings of what looks and feels good to us. Have some fun with your supplies and ignore anything that might make you feel like you should paint like someone else as if what you’re making isn’t good enough.

#2: know that you can’t progress if you don’t make something. Don’t stop from dissatisfaction because how can you grow? My (basically) watercolor youtube teacher Lindsay Weirich taught me that you can’t get better if you don’t paint! Use your supplies up! Just use them! Scribble something random in your new sketchbook because it’s JUST a sketchbook! Don’t buy precious and expensive materials if you’re afraid to ruin them. This is why I hand-make all of my sketchbooks!!!! Your sketchbook is for stretching your muscles. Putting down what you know.. trying new things.. seeing if those things work...

I got REALLY ahead of myself sorry this is so long! I’m just.. really passionate about these things lol🥲 absolute best of luck in your dabbling!!! I hope it’s fun and freeing and a beautiful experience for you🌸✨

[softsweetsuffering]

OC LIST (New)

Trey:

Has an ability to mimic or amplify abilities/powers of others, as well as telekinesis

Was previously part of a group of people who also had abilities, however after mistreatment and other issues within the group, he left.

He's got a good wealth behind him.

Extremely gentle

Handsome ;)

Loves photography

Has lavender hair

Respects all

'Secretly' Plays violin

Lowkey a sugardaddy

Hamrish Benat:

Has four eyes!

Pink and blonde hair

He loves parkour (as in climbing buildings and leaping around in gyms)

Has PTSD (There are two AUS of which I default as to how he obtained it)

Ready to deck a bitch

Trained nurse

Loves teddy bears and fuzzy pink socks.

Also goes by Hami/Hayden

Andy peters:

Strong, kind.

The quiet Big Type, doesn't always talk, but his heart is in good places.

Wishes he could do more

Buff + Tall

Wears a pair of dogtags.

Has red streaks in his hair for the fun of it

Is extremely brotherly to Adrian

is friends with Hami

Adrian Géarán:

Nervous Malnutritioned anxiety filled tired mess

Has emotionally linked fire abilities (does not like having them)

likes to make little robots!

Easily bullied

Missing an arm

Struggles with normal life

Blames himself for Andys death

Looks unintentionally vaguely like Fry from Futurama

Chris:

Leader of a summer camp for kiddos

Huge fan of the outdoors

Loves to garden

Red head with freckles

Healthy!

Good build, a little on the below-average male height

Likes to hike

Loves kids

Strong but pacifistic

Great smile

Surprisingly a little shy around other adults

Bisexual

Himbo energy

Douglas Connelly:

Just a regular chubby guy

His chub is only important because this man gives some of the best hugs, he's like a marshmallow

He is outwardly confident about his size, even if it sometimes worries him internally

He loves music, loves to groove in the kitchen while making snacks

Always open for roommates and new friends (one of his roommates is a hot bartender called Donovan)

A bit awkward but he tries his best.

Tucker:

Badass

Bunny hybrid (ears :3)

White hair

Likes to wear denim jackets

Fast runner

Has had experience working in the force

Izekiel Iris:

Bruised and abused in a facility

Was turned from human into A being of made of Paint (Useful? no. Fun? yes. Rainbow blood anyone?)

Loves painting

Wallflower

Easily anxious

Loves to draw on his own arms

Matthew Libelle:

Aka Matty Very delayed development wise as well as Autistic

Very much a texture lad, soft blankets are his thing.

Doesn't like loud sounds ( who does honestly).

Tries his hardest to function normally but it's hard.

Watermelon colours are his fav. Green hoodie is his fav.

Has watermelon pink hair.

Gale:

Eldritch bab

Was cursed by a group of guys who were messing with magics they didn't understand

Did in fact murder said group of guys and is traumatised by the idea he has become a monster

hears voices

Has Tendrils that have burst out of his back

Has the ability to move from this realm to the Eldritch planes and back. (is terrified of said planes)

Doesn't have a home

Black curly hair- frizzy- shimmers like Slick oil

Shy type kinda, tall Pale. cold.

Kinda wishes he could just go back to normal.

Would really like to eat some fresh warm bread.

Rowan maverick

Was abandoned as a teen

Also known as Rogue/Red.

Lost some of their tongues making them mute

Trained Assassin.

Previously part of a cult

Addict to painkillers (Caused by the mental issues from the cult and the loss of tongue.)

Bad with Physical affection

Could use a friend

Jace

Cop/Ex Cop.

Laid off after an incident

Has a pubby called Otis

Likes the occasional beer

Dad energy

Issac Merewen

Was previously a Teacher - grade 11/12s

Kidnapped and kept Drugged the hell up.

Was given the new name: Jess/Jack. AKA The Jester

Now has Amnesia problems .(Anomic aphasia)

Was stored Cramped in box.

Needs glasses. (Long sighted. Cant see Infront of him for shit without glasses. He specifically likes round ones :3)

Natrually Blonde

He was very inspired by the Chitty Chitty bang bang scene, “Doll on a music box”.

- He naturally has two different coloured eyes :D

-He likes podcast n occasionally audiobooks. Its good for learning/remembering words, and way easier than straining his eyes. Although it is upsetting occasionally when he can remember more of a book/podcast he’s into more than real words or real-life things.

Tyrone Li

Incubus.

Wise, Patient, caring.

Brown tattoos wind up his hips and torso, curling around his chest around his heart, and around his back, flaring at his neck.

Glasses.

Loves plants and flora

Sex lost meaning when he was younger. He wants true intimacy again but he wants to find the right person..

Glamors hide the following features:

Tail, brown that gradients into Green, Leaf like tip.

Horns, curled. (green tipped :0)

Glamors break usually after a certain period of time regardless of feeding, however, during bad situations/fight the body may unglamour to reserve the last of its energy.

Caspian:

Basically immortal but can die (Reincarnations)

Not a pacifist, but not instantly into violence

He was blessed by the Heart of the Ocean (Shes wonderful <3)

Can control water, can do minor healing with water

Can make water bubble/ boil when angry

Glowy veins when powers are active

He has had many many lives

Soft..caring..Doesnt remember alot of his past..

Doesn't know how many times hes died

Doesn't have alot of family or friends

Goes on many adventures

Elio Solren.

Nickname: Sunshine

Good lad.

Is a shapeshifter Dealt with being told he was happy and always upbeat. People leaving or ignoring him whenever he wasn't started building this sense of need to be happy all the time for others.

Lots of struggles with self image. Being perfect. Appeasing everyone. Poor self body love/self body image.

Is scared about The hate from humans about shifters. The jealousy and fear about them being able to hide behind other faces.

Smiles to hide the pain

Punk/hipster vibes

Intricate golden tattoos

Doesn't open up easily

Doesn't like to admit to being in pain

Kotori

AKA Corey

Owl lad!

Bright yellow piercing eyes. But is totally blind. (Face scars)

Loves music.

Plays the uke.. hums..sings sometimes.

Big wings- like barn owl.

Likes to perch in trees

Jeremey Caulfield

Winter baby

Was left bleeding in the snow at some point

Father Lovely old man (John)

Mother died (Ellie)

Birthday December 23h

Blue eyes

Black hair

Russel

Box boy

Glasses

Red hair

Real sweetheart

Really needs more dev ; ;

Jules

Loves tofu n chicken

Touchstarved

Stubborn af

Kicks ass!

Has Sass

Wears binders/sports bras for Lotsa running n such

Black hair big messy pigtails

Dark brown eyes.

Has a navy bear sleeps with it ‘doesn't care’ about it but does

Gymnast/kickboxing. Bandages around hands

Loved swinging bars since being a kiddo

Trampolines!!

Participates in Underground fight ring to make easy money

Sleeps on just a mattress

Has a laptop for study work but she's slowly giving up on bothering.

(She's not one originally but Werewolf Jules is one of my fav things)

Miles

Part mole, part orphan

Lives underground

Very light-sensitive

Is colourblind

Absolute nerd

loves tinkering with things

is scared of humans

very foggy memories of his parents.

Leilah/ Lei

Can make/control shadows.

Owns a Magic skull(Speaks to it)

Lives in the woods

Wears a skull to spook off people from her woods

Has Tattoos that are shadow/absorb shadows

Kinda bad at maintaining friendships

Emotionally Distant

Wears a cloak.

Bao Ketsuyki

Blood magic bab

Short

East Asian.

Pink/red medium length hair

Big pretty red flower scar from blood magic use on her shoulder/ back.

Little bit foolish, little bit reckless.

Has almost died a few times from her magic use.

Oran Audun

Pale

Punk

Irish

Plays Guitar

Writes in journal, occasionally song lyrics, occasionally little messy ink drawings.

Easy to aggravate (On edge) however is trying to learn how to meditate and be calmer

Covered head to toe in scars but still tries to find confidence in himself. He doesn't find it unattractive, but he feels like others have no need to witness his scars.

loves wearing leather/fabric wrist bracelets

Unwelcome hands have used his body as a research object

Very very against physical contact, needs to break into it.

Ray

Social worker works mainly with kids.

Has a Shy guy tattoo.

His family consists of a Good ma, younger sister, and super baby brother

Dad died but dad was good.

Dirty blonde hair, kinda messy

Short, 5’

Socks the pupper is his helpful lil buddy (hes so round and white and fluffy)

Super dad vibes.

Owen

a hockey player n gymnast.

His mother died when he was about 9.

has an older brother who is a bit of a big jock type

quite protective and caring of his two much younger siblings.

ended up in a nasty scuffle though at some point during his more competitive years in Hockey

This leads to following his passion for Gym

Pole vault, the rings, trampoline.

Still plays hockey among mates or strangers on the weekends in the cold months tho

Ends up taking a position as a gym teacher for kids after taking a childhood course since he was so good at it.

actually a really sweet guy

Soft but likes his sport and jokes.

He can hold his own somewhat more than he appears.

has blue tips/stripes in his blonde hair.

He often wears varsity jackets or baseball tees. As well as a couple other sport wear shirts. (A. Good few are from his bro ofc. Free merch)

He's short but he's got a fairly decent build on him.

He's got a surprisingly good tackle if you aren't careful. And a good grip strength.

Nohea

but everyone calls him Noah.

Works at a Boba tea cafe..

likes to surf.

has an Epic board.

Back and shoulders all littered with lines and tic tac toe-like scars.

he's the type to brush off any questions and change topic while smiling. But not super bubbly. Just. Go lucky.

has a few friends who like to hang out at the cafe

Was in a surfing accident that involved a lot of rocks.

Ila

4’8 Soft. Short.

Ready to protect.

Loves to bake!!!

Smells like a vanilla cupcake most of the time

Isn't afraid to fight although isn't trained

likes Yoga ( and yoga pants)

Needs glasses but doesn't wear them (tsk tsk, unless tryign to read recipes)

Dyes hair silver/white

Jake

Homeless

Snake hybrid can transform his lower half from human legs to tail

Also has fangs, and therefore venom

He's got a lot of sass

Can be a bit of an asshole but soft around the right people

Isn't used to kindness

doesn't cry easily

Steals food

Mac Hiato

Also known as Caf

5’6

Very Grumpy.

Very often has bags under his eyes.

Hoodie is life

Insomnia has serious trouble sleeping.

Has nightmares of strangulation

Occasionally sufferers sleep paralysis

Scared of dark- night lights

Owns a mouse called Bean

Does freelancing webdesgisn/coding as job.

Sits like a gay.

Lives on coffee

Minorly Lactose intolerant

Has One bad eye

Neema

Egyptian

Mechanic

Her dad's a mechanic and used to bring her to work all the time

dead mum: which affected her ability to emote.

Works part time at the garage

Dad likes to bring gifts on their small catch-ups that happen every once in a while.

Sheeee. Suffers a bit of resting bitch face.

she's kinda stunted emotionally because she was raised by her dad, who, isn't great with emotions himself being a man's man and all.

She's very much a tomboy gal. Doesn't exactly get dressed up. because she finds it tiresome and not "her".

Also if she did/does have friends the nickname Nemo 100% crops up because it's sadly alll too fitting but also kinda sweet.

She's actually really into cars and mechanics. Which is one of the few good reasons her dad and her are close.

She's hard to get to know, very quiet. And if you're someone who dominates the conversation she won't speak up much, but you'll be surprised to how much she's listened.

Just because she looks tired and done doesn't actually mean she feels that way.

Samson (Lemonade boi)

His name is Samson, but he prefers Sun/Sunny. (Other more affectionate nicknames include Lemondrop and Sunflower.)

He really likes going out to markets and stuff like that, little stalls or knick knack shops to find the odd kinda items.

He also really likes wandering big forests. (Hes got some o that fae energy) He collects various cool stones/rocks/plants from some of them. He also has some small vials from waterfalls and ponds he’s encountered)

He wants to practice magic to become a witch! He loves the candles and rocks and other cool things that come with the craft. (He inherited things from his father)

He really likes loose fitting shirts too, like flowy things, ones with sleeves that drape past your fingers, or has extra fabric on the bottom that dangle down past hips. (Sometimes they come from the ladies section just because they’re softer and have more variety. Others from op shops and other niche little stores.)

He bought a cologne from a witch that looks cursed but the only curse is that it makes the one who puts it on smell like citrus..so not much of curse. (The bottle looks fuckin neato tho)

He looves fizzy drinks. Doesn’t mind his alcohol either, however it takes a surprising amount to get him on his ass despite looking like a serious lightweight.

He’s pretty average in build, bit of muscle in his arms, some fat on his thighs. Slight pouch of a tum (cause no ones flat and thats unrealistic :<)

He’s about 5′4. So not tall, but not the shortest of the short.

He kinda likes to backpack about. Not staying in places long if they get boring. Which means he is kinda jack of all trades when it comes to work, offering to fix things for pay, lots of casual work doing various things.(One of his favorites was helping a little old lady run a paint shop.)

He occasionally snorts when he laughs and tries not to.

He has his ears pierced, and he has a little yellow gemed stud in his nose.

The ring around his neck he found in the middle of a patch of mushrooms.

He has a couple other tattoos. One of them is of bubbles up his wrist :3 He also has some stars on his ankle, and a sunflower on one of his fingers on his left hand.

He’s not super in to gardening but he does have his lemon tree. He also wants to grow some mandarins

His eyes look silver in a lot of lights, but occasionally there’s some strange hints of yellow, and other times blue.

He has freckles!!!! that look alot like bubbles ;)

He has a twin brother called Fraser.

Scrunches his nose

Hides his laughter behind his hand

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

the branches and the roots

post-Spirit of Justice. Maya, still in Khura’in, looks in old records hoping to learn a little more about her family.

[on ao3]

----

The heavy wooden door, when it creaks open, dislodges pounds of dust from its frame and its intricately carved face. Maya sneezes into the sleeve of her robe. She lifts her face up out of it, stares into the dark windowless room ahead of her, and sneezes again. 

“Just wait a moment, if you think it is dusty now,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says. 

He told her to call him Nahyuta, so there’s a teasing Cuz or Yuty on the tip of her tongue, because family is family however distant, and family she calls things like Sis and Pearly and Nick. But she can’t quite access it. The tip of her tongue hits the back of her teeth and her jaw sticks shut and she’s avoided addressing him as anything. Plus he still calls her Miss Fey so it’s not like he’s figured it out either. 

She covers her face with her sleeve. “Okay,” she says. “I’m ready.”

Prosecutor Sahdmadhi arches one perfect eyebrow. He reminds Maya of what all the hanging scrolls of the former Masters depict; the old portraits are consolidated in the manor, a forest of women whose flaws are brushed away as they are enshrined in traditional inked artistry. He, and his mother, unreal, beautiful, the kind of elegance that Maya was told all her life to emulate and never could. The kind of regal grace that Pearly performed as soon as she was able to walk. 

(Poor perfect Pearl, such a prodigy, but of the branch family, forever damned to be nothing. Morgan was the only one who acted on making Pearl the Master, but Maya knows with the way other elders of the family looked at her when she started spending longer and longer stints down in the city, months at a time with Nick, that they hoped she’d be just like her mother and never come back. That the city would eat her too.)

They step into the darkness, their only light a flashlight that Maya holds, and a lantern Prosecutor Sahdmadhi brought. “I wonder when it was someone last came down here,” he says. His voice is muffled a little by his scarf pulled over his face to shield him from the initial wave of dust. The orange-ish lantern-light turns his skin and his hair and his clothes gold, all gold, and warm and alive, a reminder that this is not a tomb and they are not buried. “I suppose I can get estimate a range…”

He turns to the shelves on the left, closest to the door, and picks up the first scroll-container there. This dusty room in the basement of the palace - Maya kept calling it the dungeons, and Nahyuta didn’t laugh, and she felt a pang of homesickness for the family that laughs at all her stupid jokes, and then she wondered if there are actual dungeons that Ga’ran and Inga used and that’s why he didn’t laugh, and her homesickness turns to sorrow - is an archive, of a sort, but the only information they are keen on recording in here is geneaology. Carefully preserved scrolls sit stacked on shelves around the room’s walls, a number she can’t estimate because she can’t see them all at once swinging the flashlight all around. A solid-looking wooden table stands in the center of the room. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi sets his lantern down there and spreads out the scroll. 

“How did anyone do anything down here before batteries existed?” Maya asks. She shines her flashlight up at the ceiling, almost expecting to find eyes or a face leering down at her, like this is a horror movie and not still part of a very lived-in palace. Much as this room hasn’t been lived-in, or walked in, and certainly not vacuumed or dusted in. 

“There are oil lamp holders on the walls,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi answers. “And candles.” He doesn’t quite sound disparaging but he’s pretty close to it. 

“And risk setting everything on fire?” Thousands of years of the royal line up in smoke because someone was clumsy. Someone like Maya, who makes movements too quick and too big and takes up space in an unrefined manner. 

Prosecutor Sahdmadhi doesn’t answer and moments later he’s murmuring, almost to himself, “So it’s been at least fifteen years since someone cared to come here and update anything,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Maya lowers her flashlight from examining the lamp holders on the walls so she won’t shine it straight in his eyes and approaches the table, to where he is pointing at something. The names are tricky to decipher, even after two years of extremely immersive study of Khura’inese, but one she knows is Ga’ran’s even without the little crown drawn above it, and the other is very, very long, so that must be Inga. A family tree.

Prosecutor Sahdmadhi taps his fingers between the two names, where a line is drawn between them to signify marriage, but no other line extends from that one, no other name beneath theirs. “They never put Rayfa down as their child, or as existing at all. There were rather more pressing matters when kidnapping your sister’s daughter, and forcing your sister to live as a nursemaid and your double, else you’ll kill them both.”

He says it all so dry, deadpan, because he must have gotten used to living with that over his head, become resigned to the reality of that, the way Nick almost laughs when he’s talking about his poker-playing years even if it’s an obviously bitter laugh, and like with Nick, Maya wants to hug him, but she doesn’t think he’d appreciate that. Certainly she would ask first but he’s already saying something else and the time for asking is passed. “This will have to be redone afresh on a new scroll.”

“Why?” Maya asks. “They didn’t write the princess down at all, so you could just add her under—”

Under your parents, but her eyes follow his fingers brushing across the parchment and all the muscles in his hand tighten when he reaches his mother’s name and the blackened, burned holes next to and beneath her name.

“Another reason candles are so practical for this work of genealogy,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says, and this time he isn’t dry or deadpan. His voice is dripping, anger barely contained, not swallowed and barely held in his mouth to stop him from spitting that fury that’s justified if unbecoming of a monk and prince regent. (Unbecoming of a Master, too. Maya’s spent two years in Khura’in trying to learn to be the Master, and she’s a stronger medium than ever but she still only sometimes knows how she’s supposed to act, how to become the Master and not Maya. Maya has too many feelings, Maya has too much righteous indignation to be as calm as the Master is supposed to be, but Her Benevolence Princess Rayfa is also full of fury and still a beloved princess, so maybe that’s okay. To feel things. To be angry.) “Fire right at hand to burn out the sinful heretics.”

“Cut off the branches,” Maya says. Morgan tried to do that literally, with her last plan, pruning the tree violently, and Ga’ran literally used fire to burn the Sahdmadhis out of the royal family. “You were a baby. You didn’t do anything wrong. You were as much the queen’s child as you were Dhurke’s.”

“I’m sure there would have been some contention over my expulsion from the family had I been a girl,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says. “You can’t turn a potential medium loose into rebel hands, after all. But I wasn’t, and so the only blood of mine that mattered was that of my allegedly criminal father.”

“How did you ever become a prosecutor like that?” she asks. She asked to come down here searching for something about their family long ago, wanting to find the place where Khura’in and Kurain broke apart forever, but the affairs of a thousand years ago suddenly pale in importance to what happened a month ago. What happened fifteen years ago, and twenty-three years ago. Living family more important than the dead. 

(Especially since she hasn’t ever gotten the chance to speak with Nahyuta one-on-one before. Not even talk with him and Princess Rayfa and Queen Amara together. Prosecutor Prince-Regent Sahdmadhi seems to be everywhere at once, trying to do everything all at once, the way his brother is trying to take up every criminal and civil defense all at once. Maya’s spent more time with Apollo than she expected to, but she’s got more legal experience than Datz and Ahlbi who are also trying to help him run his law office, and they need someone who knows all about it. Putting on the skin of co-counsel and legal assistant is easier than trying to find the skin of Master. And she wants to help her family, and Apollo is family, two different ways. Via Nick, and via her distant Khurainese cousins.)

“When I emerged from the woods claiming to renounce the rebels and wanting to work as a prosecutor to bring an end to them” - Prosecutor Sahdmadhi snorts, his hands curling tight around the edge of the table - “Ga’ran made a great show of being a benevolent queen willing to forgive the child of her sister’s murderer and integrate him into her regime’s legal system. And then she dragged me out of earshot of her guards and snapped a leash around my neck and told me it would be Rayfa’s noose if I ever dared step out of line.”

Maya thinks of Shelley de Killer. A sword hanging overhead to force the desired result. Her mouth is dry. She nods. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi isn’t even looking at her anyway. “Her claims of forgiveness changed the minds of no other prosecutor, and there is a reason I started prosecuting internationally. Not just because there was no fear of facing my father’s friends on the stand and damning them in this farce of justice, but because my colleagues would not be cruel for my name, and because the leash choked me a little less when I did not have Ga’ran’s eyes constantly on me. Do you know, some of the other Khura’inese prosecutors called it favoritism that she had for me. Special treatment, that she often called me to the palace, tasked me with giving the princess a cursory understanding of the legal system or assisting her at crime scenes - it was all a sick game to her. I could spend time with my sister and no one must ever know it. I imagine she enjoyed watching me try to stay detached. Watching me squirm.”

“She’s a monster,” Maya says. 

“Unfortunately not.” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi rolls the scroll back up, his fingers tight around it crumpling it, because this sheet is already tainted, already wrong, and it doesn’t matter if he ruins it. “She’s human, just as the rest of us are.” He sets the scroll aside, near his lantern, rather than put it back. There’s no reason to put it back when it needs to be redone. She wonders if he’ll burn Ga’ran and Inga out of the tree in retaliation. Like Pearly splattering gravy on the hanging scroll of her mother - destroy the records of the family that some other family didn’t want around. She doubts it, somehow, that Prosecutor Sahdmadhi would do that. 

“Now,” he says, curtly, businesslike, like a prosecutor, “this ancestor of ours who founded your channeling school, how long ago did she live?”

-

There is not necessarily a guarantee that Ami Fey will appear anywhere in the genealogy of the Khura’inese royals. It may have been her mother or grandmother who left for Japan, and simply Ami who once there decided to turn their spiritual power again into real power, not as a queen but as a Master. A wise woman with the wisdom of the dead in hand. Or Ami Fey may not have been known as Ami in Khura’in; it may have been a name she took upon leaving. 

Or she may, as they come to realize, have been a branch burned from the tree for leaving and taking their spiritual secrets with her. 

“I suppose this must be her, then,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says, “as we have been through everything else and…” He gestures at the shelves on either side of them. They have searched the generations that lie around the era that Ami should have lived, finding no trace of her name or a Khura’inese equivalent. What they have found, what Prosecutor Sahdmadhi concludes is the junction where their families broke apart, is another searing burn, blackened edges of a hole through the parchment, the sole person to have been stricken from the family in half a dozen generations on either side. A daughter; in the scorch marks, when they squint, the light right on the page, both of them hunched over it and struggling to keep their long hair out of the way, they can see that this disavowed disgrace was a daughter. 

“Her,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi repeats, “or whoever came to bore her, and taught her of the powers of our bloodline. Perhaps she had only some limited knowledge some mothers before her carried out of our homeland, that she came to make her own.”

Our homeland. Does he mean that Khura’in is home to her? It is tradition in the village for the Master to study in Khura’in; did her mother think of it as her homeland? (Did she keep secret her blood’s connection to the royal family? It would have been Amara’s mother on the throne then. How did she rule - did she lay down a hand of fear that would have left Misty cautious to confess her identity, as Maya had been?) What is home - is it Kurain, or Khura’in, or Los Angeles? Is it the village she grew up in, or the city where she found her truest self? She and Apollo share a fond longing for the perks of the city, of one kind of home, and the confusion of not knowing whether to call that place home, or instead consider home the place in the mountains where each of them formed their first memories. 

“They disowned her for leaving, then,” Maya says. “They - they do that too, in my village. If you’re gone for twenty years, you’re considered dead and stripped of your rank and titles and - everything.” That’s what they say, anyway. No one has actually fully disappeared like that to test it. Her mother almost had, and then Maya would have found out whether the elders truly meant to erase Misty from the halls of the manor and the scrolls of the Masters, or simply, finally, pass her title along.

“Spirit channeling is a powerful tool, jealously guarded by individuals who want to hoard that power for themselves,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says. “For there to be some outsider who know the secret undermines its exclusivity and its power. It does not surprise me that the act of leaving would so be considered a betrayal, enough to leave one little more than ashes.” He touches his fingertips to the parchment. 

“Or gravy,” Maya says. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi’s eyes dart suspiciously toward her. “Never mind,” she adds hurriedly. “So then, um, we read these right to left, when it comes to ages?”

Prosecutor Sahdmadhi nods. He taps his fingers along all of the other names in a row with the burn mark, the siblings of this persona non grata, and then the row up above, their mother’s siblings. “Yes,” he says. “And our subject here was the youngest daughter of a youngest daughter, and each of them with several sisters. Ami - we will presume, for ease of referring to her, that this was your Ami who has been stricken from the tree - had nothing in her future, no position of prestige or power waiting for her.” He sighs, stepping back, closing his bright eyes and pondering for a moment, as though he may begin a recitation. “Our royal line and our country was founded on a story of two sisters - the elder, a medium so powerful she was revered as a goddess by the people she led, and the younger, who lacked the power to channel spirits but nonetheless stood as the country’s loyal and beloved protector.”

His eyes open. “It should be a position of honor, even to be a younger sister, or even to be one who could not channel. But somewhere that was lost, and being unable to channel or become queen became a source of great shame - as though the only worthy and admirable position there ever is to hold is Queen.” Shaking his head, he continues, “My aunt should have been our people’s great protector, our country’s loyal guardian. Instead she nearly destroyed us, out of jealousy, because our family has come to be such a way that for younger daughters such as Ga’ran and Ami, no future awaits.”

The equating of the two of them - Kurain Village’s revered founder, and the evil queen - makes Maya uncomfortable. Yes, they were both the younger sister, as was Lady Kee’ra, and Lady Kee’ra the younger of two as Ga’ran was, but that is all that Ga’ran shares with either of them. And that is all that Ga’ran shares with—

“I’m the younger daughter,” Maya says. Prosecutor Sahdmadhi looks at her straight on again. Honestly, even Maya has gotten bored sometimes - often - with Kurain Village genealogy and whatever else, even while she’s come to be curious about Khura’in. She wouldn’t blame Prosecutor Sadhmadhi for not wanting to hear it. But he appears genuinely intrigued by what Maya has just said, to be waiting for her to continue telling him about her family tree in Kurain. Something in his eyes urges her to continue, but she can’t get more than one more sentence out through the tightness in her throat. “And so was my mother, the Master of the village before me.”

“What happened?” he asks. She wonders what his guess is. It would be reasonable to assume that they both had older sisters who died - reasonable in any other family, but they are not any other family, the Feys and the royals. If there’s anyone in the world who could make a guess that lands close to the truth of all that Morgan Fey did, it would be Nahyuta. He could know.

And she knows when she tells him, he’ll understand. “Aunt Morgan, my mom’s older sister, wasn’t a very powerful medium. So when the elders convened, they passed her by and gave the title of Master to my mother. And Aunt Morgan had been counting on the power and status that being Master would give, and her husband had too. Her - her first husband.” The implication there tells the rest of that story. It’s exactly what Prosecutor Sahdmadhi can assume it is. “And then my mother was consulted on a murder case, and was disgraced, and she decided that should mean that she should disappear—”

“That was the DL-6 incident of 2001, yes?” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi asks. Maya blinks. “After we witnessed your channeling prowess in your trial, and I returned to Los Angeles, I researched Kurain Village and your family.”

Yes, she was going to tell him about it all - but something about the fact that he already knows it feels like a betrayal of trust. Like she was going to welcome him into her house and then he pushed past her and pulled out a copy of her front door key and used it because he’d stolen it from her a week ago and had a copy made. Except in this analogy her key is a matter of public record. “So you know about all about that ton of murder cases we’ve been caught up in,” she says, and the words still fall out of her mouth bitter. 

“Your aunt tried to frame you for murder,” he replies.

“Guess why.” That sounds bitter as well, but she didn’t mean it to. Morgan’s motive wasn’t part of the actual case as was presented in court, as became part of the transcript. But Nahyuta could know.

“I suppose I may reason that she had, at that point a daughter capable of channeling, whose only path to inheriting the title was through you.” He speaks with confidence, but his expression is puzzled. He wouldn’t know why she has suddenly soured on the conversation. She shouldn’t be mad - it saves her at least ten minutes of explanation if he knows DL-6, and then the incident in Kurain Village, beforehand - but that emotion reared its stupid head anyway. 

“My cousin Pearly,” Maya says, shaking off her frustration. She can’t stay mad at one of the few people who can truly understand. “She’s about as strong as me and ten years younger. A real prodigy. But she was - we call it the branch family, the ones descended from whichever sisters didn’t become Master. And branch family meant, she’d be nothing. She doesn’t care about the titles, but Aunt Morgan sure did.”

“And your aunt was the older daughter,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi muses. “And passed by despite it. She acted as she did because you were the one to inherit the title - yet you are, as you said, the younger daughter, who should not have had that in her future.” He doesn’t ask a question, but his tone and his eyes make it clear that this is an inquiry.

“You said you researched my family,” Maya says. His family too, at a distance. “If you dredged up every court case with a Fey involved, you know why. You know why this younger daughter gets the title, and it wasn’t anything about who was the stronger medium.”

“I am sure I do,” Prosecutor Sahdmadhi says, “but please, I would like to hear from you - tell me about your sister.”

Maya swallows the lump in her throat and blinks to dispel the burning behind her eyes. “She was amazing,” she says. “She was - she left the village, for me. To try and find our mother, and so she wouldn’t have to compete with me to be Master. So we wouldn’t end up hating each other like our mom and Aunt Morgan did.” Her eyes burn again, after a few seconds’ respite. “I hated her sometimes anyway, for leaving me alone, but that was different than hating her like - like our moms and aunts.”

The plural emerges from her lips without really thinking, but when she does think, she realizes she doesn’t know how her mom felt about Morgan. Did she hate her for all she tried to do? Or did she love her older sister with both pity and anger instead? How did Misty and Morgan feel about each other when they were children? Did Ga’ran love her older sister or spare her only out of the practicality of needing a stand-in to channel spirits? 

“She was a defense attorney,” Maya adds, knowing that Prosecutor Sahdmadhi knows it, but now he can hear it from her, like he asked. “She was Nick’s mentor, and she saved him, and she taught him all of his tricks that he used to beat you.” She grins, despite herself. A faint shadow of a smile crosses Nahyuta’s face. He’s glad he lost. She knows that now. “I wish you could’ve met her.”

The smile fades. “Do you?” he asks. “I put you through hell, and that I did it because I thought it the only way to protect my sister is no excuse, one I cannot imagine her tolerating, not when I am sure that she too must so have loved her own sister.”

Maya runs her hand over the beads of her necklace. Mia wore a magatama until the day she died, and every day she returned after; she kept that connection to a home that she abandoned not because she hated the place, but because she loved who remained there. “I’ve been accused of murder a lot,” Maya says. “Like, a lot, you know.” She glances away from him, doesn’t see if he nods. “And you know, some of the prosecutors who did that, tried so hard to get me convicted of murder because they had perfect win records to maintain?” Tried to act as heartless demons like Nahyuta did, because it’s easier that way, easier to turn cold, to never feel. “We became friends. And are, still.” Edgeworth paid for the flight, after all. “I forgave them. I forgive you. I’m sure Sis would too.”

“You think so?” Nahyuta asks. He sounds honestly concerned that a woman who’s been dead for more than a decade wouldn’t like him. 

“Yeah,” Maya says. “She - I mean, she had experience with the blackmail thing. She spent years on a case like that. Building a case against the horrible man who leaked the news of our mother’s involvement in DL-6 to the press, building up evidence of all of the people he blackmailed to suicide and ruin. She knows you have to strike at the top. And she’d know that you loved your sister. That - that does mean something.” 

They didn’t talk about it, really, but Maya knows that, like she herself did, Mia forgave Godot-Diego for his stupid, prideful plan that ended with him killing their mother. People with good intentions and hurting hearts do ugly, painful things for love. People get trapped and can’t see another way out. She’s forgiven Tahrust Inmee for framing her for murder. People do desperate, mad things for love. Khura’in is a country of mountains and on another mountain on the other side of the sea, years ago, Maya learned a lot that she carries with her.

“Did she ever find your mother?” Nahyuta asks softly. She thinks he must be thinking about his own lost mother who he only just found. She imagines the anguish he felt when she was shot, not knowing if he would ever see her again to catch up on the lost years. She remembers lying on a courthouse couch, her sister with Pearly’s robes smoothing Maya’s hair back from her face and telling her that their mother is dead. Maya remembers not knowing how to mourn a woman she never knew and couldn’t recognize. Nahyuta knew his mother for a time when he was old enough to remember; his situation wasn’t the same, and it didn’t end the same, and Maya is so glad for it.

“No,” Maya says, and Nahyuta’s eyes sadden. “She - she didn’t. Sis thought, I guess, that - 

that if she could find out and expose that blackmailer for everything he’d done, then - then our mother would come out of hiding, I guess. Would come home. And instead, that horrible, horrible man murdered my sister, and tried to frame me, and Nick, for it.” 

There it is again, the pain behind her eyes of sharp tears gathering. “Nick and I took him down but it was too late for Sis. And she was so - she was so young, I keep thinking now, because I’m - I’m older than she was when she died. Does that make me not the younger sister, anymore? I’m older than my older sister. Am I - what am I, then, by birthright? Of course I’m going to be the Master someday, because I’m - I’m the oldest daughter now, aren’t I? Only because I’m the one that lived.”

Nahyuta doesn’t say anything. What is there to say? More than almost anyone else in the entire world - more than anyone but Queen Amara herself - he understands, has lived such a same awful nightmare, and there’s nothing to say. There’s no consolation.

“Sometimes I think I shouldn’t have kids,” Maya adds. “Most of the time I think it. And if Pearly didn’t either we could just - put an end to this. Is it worth it? For the world to have this - us, to channel the dead, is it worth it if it keeps ruining the living?” How many more neglected sons and dead daughters will their bloodline see? Why are they the sacrifice for this power to continue to exist? Why should the dead be prioritized over the living mediums who call them back?

“Maybe I’ll adopt,” she says. “If I ever want kids. Like - Nick adopting a kid worked out really well for them both. Then I could get to have kids without perpetuating this - this cycle.”

“Our shared blood spilled again and again,” Nahyuta says.

“One of my cousins, who can’t even channel, still became a nun because our family is so fucked up,” Maya says. And that’s a bit of a simplification of Iris’ choice and situation, but it’s also exactly what happened, isn’t it? Shut herself away to atone for the crime of loving her sister and also those other crimes - willing to do whatever it took to protect Maya from Morgan’s plot because she knew no other way to atone for the sins of herself and her sister and mother. “I don’t know. Am I overreacting to say that we need to swear a pact, like you and me and Pearly and Her Benevolence, to not have any biological children so that we can end the bloodline? Like is that - is that blaming the wrong thing? The blood and not—”

Not us? 

“Is our family always so damned to turn out this way?” Nahyuta asks, rephrasing her fumbling questions so elegantly. “Do we have a choice in what we become? Or say perhaps we should swear to do better - and perhaps we do, for a generation or two. And then what? The Holy Mother and Lady Kee’ra gave us the best example they could of how to protect Khura’in, how to rule and serve its people while loving each other, and look how that became corrupted. Look how Lady Ami left, and her descendants set out across the sea, and still in your faraway village older and younger sisters go to war with each other.” He gives her a sad smile, his eyes even sadder. “Of course it seems the inevitable fate of our bloodline, given what both your branch and mine have lived through, Cousin.”

“Shit sucks,” Maya says. She needs to ask Datz to teach her some good curses in Khura’inese. All she knows is how to damn people to various hells, and sometimes that just isn’t the vibe she’s going for with her swearing. 

Nahyuta laughs softly. “Indeed it does.”

Maya reaches out and pulls the scroll back closer to her. Ami, the daughter who founded her branch of their ancient family, nothing more than a nameless scorch mark. What else should Maya have expected to find? She knows how her family is, home and here. Why not a thousand years ago, the same? She should have expected it, the fire and the pruned branches. Then and now.

“Does that mean you’re on board with the no-kids pact?” She glances back at Nahyuta. “Or do I just like, really not want kids actually and I’m just trying to find justifiable excuses when ‘I don’t want kids’ can be its own excuse?” She’s babbling. The Master is not supposed to babble. “Have you ever thought about if you want—?”

Something dark and sad crosses his face. “I have no idea what I ‘want’,” he says, making a sarcastic quotation mark in the air with one hand, and Maya almost laughs because that’s some of the most informal expressiveness she’s ever seen from him. “Until a very recent time, all I could hope to ‘want’ for the future was that I would die before I was thirty and be freed of this, for no hell in death I’ve ever heard of could be worse than the one I lived.”

Maya regrets asking. “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“I suppose that is some argument in support of your suggestion,” he continues, like the way Nick talks about being disbarred, where he blithely talks past anyone’s sympathy or acknowledgement of how fucked up it was. “Given that it was a hell my own aunt made for me. Is there anything else you wished to examine down here?”

Nick talks past it because he can’t let himself pause to consider how fucked up it was, because he’s treading water and has to keep moving and if he stops to think he’ll drown. Maya knows this because she’s done the same. She kept a smile on her face and kept moving because she had to keep Pearly’s head above water, again and again. Nick has Trucy. Nahyuta has Rayfa and the entire country of Khura’in. “No,” Maya says, rolling up the ancient scroll to return it to its place. “That’s all I was looking for down here.”

Nahyuta nods. He points her to the spot on the shelves, the carefully ordered archive of their family’s burdensome history, the spot where Ami was excised from. They stand there, after, silently, eyeing the shelves in the gloom, as though both reluctant to leave it. “I suppose,” Nahyuta says softly, barely more than a breath, “that it is not quite true to say that I have never given thought to the matter of children. What I want, I do not know. But that I am regent now, I have wondered too, as we said before, what will be next? Holy Mother forbid my sister ever become a tyrant, but what of her potential future daughters? What of - what, perhaps, of mine? How shall we safeguard our country from our own descendants?”

“I hear democracies work okay sometimes,” Maya says. And sometimes there are the Paul Atishons of the world who commit murder in the course of running for a village council position. Sometimes, there are people - greedy, selfish, ambitious people - and everything goes wrong. 

Nahyuta’s mouth twists in a small smirk. She’s certainly hedging her bets with her phrasing, she knows.

“I guess even if you decided to not have kids so they or your grandkids or great-grandkids can’t ruin everything for everyone again,” Maya says, “you and Her Benevolence would still have to restructure the entire government because—”

“Because our entire line of succession is based on spirit channeling, yes,” Nahyuta says. “Thousands of years of tradition and direct descent, and we stand poised to overturn it all.” He shakes his head. “My most immediate concern has been piecing our legal system back together and undoing all the false verdicts that Ga’ran’s rule has wrought, as you and my brother are well aware, but I have had some discussion with my mother and sister about introducing a parliamentary system.” He folds his arms behind his back, shifting his wait like he is about to start moving, and then he doesn’t, and they remain there in the dark. “Even if our family should play out its bloody feuds again, we may at least limit the casualties. Our people should not suffer from a despot’s unilateral decrees just because one sister so envies the other.”

Envy, yes - it was jealousy, and ambition, and selfishness, and people died. It was Morgan expecting that she was owed her birthright and unable to cope when her more talented younger sister overtook her as Master. It was Ga’ran expecting nothing and wanting it all the same, desiring for herself the admiration that Khura’in’s people had for her older sister, the beloved queen, but only able to make herself feared, not loved. People are dead because one sister got what the other wanted.

Kurain Village teaches that channeling is a gift from the gods, but a gift shouldn’t come with a price to pay. 

“What does Her Benevolence think of that?” Maya asks. She respects Rayfa, the princess wo held too much responsibility at such a young age and now has had her world shattered several times over and stepped up from it stronger, and she never should have had to live any of this. She should not have had to learn that her mother was not her mother and was a monster, and her father who was not her father by blood was a monster, and the other father she could have had was already dead. Like Pearly, if such a tragedy ever had to befall her, why did it have to be when she was so young? Everything Princess Rayfa went through, Maya thinks, might make her understand the same facts that Maya and Nahyuta understand. 

“She agrees,” Nahyuta says, as Maya thought she would. “Lady Kee’ra and the Holy Mother were Khura’in’s great protectors. Perhaps this is what protecting our country means now - protecting it too from the worst of ourselves.” He sweeps a strand of hair back behind his ear and the shiny gold earrings there. “And I owe a great many thanks to Phoenix Wright, and you, for first helping Rayfa on the path to understanding these such matters. For teaching her what I could not.”

“I’m glad we could,” Maya says. “I really am glad. I think Khura’in is lucky to have you both now.”

Nahyuta glances away, like he doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to respond to genuine concern and compliment. How long was he under Ga’ran’s thumb? How many years of being unable to have a heart, because it was his heart that Ga’ran used against him - how many years was he in a pit of vipers with no one who was allowed to care about him? If Maya knew she doesn’t quite remember. 

“I will do whatever I can to support Her Benevolence, and to repair all the wrongs that have been done to our country,” Nahyuta says stiffly, forcing the words out. “I owe - for all I stood complicit in, I—” He is still staring at the far wall, and he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a moment to compose himself. “I owe my father so much more, but this much I am able to do. This I may change.” He blinks his eyes shut again and twists his beaded prayer necklace around his fingers. “I cannot make it up to him, but I will try.”

Maya’s stomach sinks. 

Only once has Apollo ever broached the topic of the three days she spent channeling his father, and that was just to know if she had any awareness of what was going on while she was channeling. The answer is no and a noncommittal vague shrug, because her soul vacates her body but spirits leave behind traces of feelings on their departure. When Tahrust left her she felt at peace, a sense of justice imparted and no regret remaining, for about three seconds until she remembered where she was and that she and Nick might be executed depending on what the high priest did or didn’t say. 

After Dhurke left, she was exhausted, mostly, and a bit confused why he was already gone because she didn’t think he had yet accomplished all he meant to - but more than that sense of unfinished business, there was love. Love for all three of his children, love for his wife, love for his rebels and his country. Everything he did was for love, and for once, the choices made for love weren’t stupid and messy. And still they ended with such pain. 

Talking to Apollo then, she remembered how much Dhurke loved his son, enough that for a moment she couldn’t breathe with it. (She wondered if this was how much her mother loved her.) And talking to Nahyuta now—

“You don’t need to make anything up to him,” Maya says. Nahyuta turns his head so that she can’t even see the pained expression on his face, but she can see his hands curled up to his chest, clutching the dragon tattooed on his palm close to his heart. “He loved you. He forgave you from the start. He understood why, and he loved you.”

“Don’t,” Nahyuta whispers. “You can’t say that—”

“I know he - hey!” 

Nahyuta spins on his heel, heading for the door. Maya runs after him, grabbing onto his arm and hanging firm even as he twists in her grasp and slams the heavy doors behind them with a thunderous thud that makes the floor beneath their feet shudder. Nahyuta scowls at her; Maya scowls back, and when he breaks eye contact first, his shoulders slumping a little, Maya risks releasing her cousin’s arm. He studies his boots instead of leaving.

“I’d channel him so he could tell you himself,” Maya says, “but for one thing, I don’t know if that actually - helps. With getting closure.” Nahyuta looks at her from the corner of his eyes. A question. She goes on, her eyes stinging as she does. “Me and Nick with my sister, that whenever I’d channel her, or Pearly would, I wondered like maybe we were just picking at a scab and it’d never heal because she was here again, but she wasn’t here, not enough. She was always just out of reach, even when I got to hug her and tell her I loved her, I - I don’t know.” 

She never considered asking Pearl to channel Misty so that Maya could talk to her mother for the only time ever in her life. Both because she thought that Pearly would find the guilt unbearable, and Pearly feeling in any way responsible for what happened on that mountain is the last thing Maya has ever wanted, and because she doesn’t know what to say or how to get closure with a woman she never really knew. She had never come to terms with her mother’s disappearance, really, but then just the knowing - knowing that she was dead and no longer somewhere just at the tips of Maya’s fingertips if she reached far enough and looked hard enough - was the closure. Not closure enough, never enough, but the best Maya figures she could ever get in that situation. 

“Ask Lady Inmee if she felt the chance to say a final goodbye to her husband made the loss any less painful,” Nahyuta says. “To hear from him one last time that she loved him, when she knew that, and to tell him one last time that she loved him when he knew such.”

“Yeah,” Maya says softly. When Nahyuta resumes walking, it is to set a pace that she can easily keep beside him as he leads her through the maze of halls. She swallows her nerves, shoves aside the little bit of her mind that is convinced she is overstepping bounds, because when has she ever cared about that, and she already did once this conversation so why not finish it off? 

“And for the other thing,” she says, and Nahyuta turns his head sharply, his hair swinging, to look at her, like he’d forgotten that she started talking in a way that signaled that she had more than one point about channelings and closure, “I don’t think it would really change that much about how you feel, for you to hear your father say he’s forgiven you.”

Nahyuta stops, but doesn’t make to flee. He just stops, waiting for her to finish before they ascend to the ground floor of the palace, out of the records of the dead and back to their living family who still need their help. “I think you need to forgive you,” Maya says. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything as they stride through the palace, passing guards in the lived-in halls, and she expects when they reach the front gates that he will throw her unceremoniously out. But he instead steps with her into the sun, out into the colorful, bustling streets of the capital, where here in the land of the living the people they pass have nods and bows of acknowledgement - for Nahyuta, mostly, of course but Maya too, and it never fails to amaze her. She spent two years here coming to know the people while hiding a part of herself, and now they know, and that and so much more has changed.

Nahyuta stops to chat with a sweet bun vendor, and through the quick conversation Maya gathers that the woman was one of the Dragons. They come away with a pastry for each of them, and it seems like Nahyuta has waited for her to take a bite and be unable to speak for him to finally say, “You make it sound so simple. As though it is easy to - how? How am I to...?”

Joke’s on him; Maya can easily talk through a mouthful of bun, even if it’s not helpful. “Wish I knew.”

Rather than stuff it in his face, Nahyuta breaks off a small piece of the bun and pops it into his mouth. The delicate, refined mannerisms he sometimes shows almost make Maya snort when she thinks about him learning manners while living in a shack in the mountains, that chaotic, feral childhood that Apollo has described a few times. Instead of laughing, she swallows her mouthful and says, “No, really, trust me, I do wish I knew.” How to forgive oneself a guilt of the kind so deep and painful it could drive a person to consider choosing death instead - that would be a power far greater than channeling spirits. Maybe that would be a gift that didn’t come intertwined with pain, but it isn’t the one Maya has. “I wish I was any help at all.”

She waits a moment to see if Nahyuta will reply right away, and when he doesn’t, she takes a large bite of her sweet bun again and raises her eyebrows in the best disdainful look she can muster, in response to Nahyuta watching her shove pastry down her face in the most undignified of ways. He rolls his eyes. She is still chewing when he says, “You were. Thank you, Maya.”

This deserves more dignity than talking with her mouth full can merit. The delay is at least two seconds until she can say, “Oh,” a reply that still surely lacks dignity. “You’re - you’re welcome.”

A warbaa’d roars and they both jump. A dog barks, and then another, another layer of noise over the loud bazaar. Maya closes her eyes to take in the ambience, all the voices chattering, catching up with neighbors and bartering for their groceries. “It feels different here now,” Maya says. 

“What do you mean?” Nahyuta asks. 

“I didn’t notice until it wasn’t, but there was always - this kind of tension, in the air, here. Even when everyone was trying to act normal, we were all - not. We were scared and - and hiding things.” Rebels, rebel-sympathizers, secret police, and Maya the spirit medium from abroad. “It feels like I can breathe now. It feels like - well, it doesn’t feel like home. My village is so damn quiet. Not like—” She waves a hand at all the bustle around them, looking over the shop storefronts, and then she is hastily halted when Nahyuta throws an arm out to stop her from walking into the path of a yak. “But it feels like it could be a home, more than it ever did before.” Even when before had the Inmees’ lovely hospitality. How hard as that is to look back on now, with all that happened since. “The thing I miss most though, besides Pearly and Nick and everyone - I wish I could get a burger. And ramen, but mostly a good burger.”

She watches the yak trundle of sight. Nahyuta looks briefly offended on its behalf until he asks, “Have you ever been to Burger Barn?”

“I can’t,” Maya whines. “The lines. I go in and I’m hungry and I smell everything and I’m so much hungrier but then I have to wait so long, and by the time I’d get to order I’d probably have eaten my own sandals, so no, I’ve never actually had one of their burgers.”

The law office comes into sight down the street; Maya has had trouble remembering where it is, and then Datz redid the outer walls yesterday and she barely recognizes it, but she can find her way now by the dragon he painted on the wall, to go with the office sign. Nahyuta’s eyes widen and he comes to a halt, and Maya realizes that he must not have been down here yet. She gives him a moment to take it in; she’s not going to try to get used to this visage yet, not when Datz is talking about redoing the roof too. “So,” she prompts when Nahyuta tears his eyes away and they resume walking, “you’ve been to Burger Barn?”

“I recommend going before you are hungry,” he says. “Then by the time the wait is over you are not positively famished. But I find it surprising that the wait would prove to you a challenge - it should pale in comparison to activities such as meditation beneath a freezing waterfall. The Burger Barn is only slightly cold from too much air conditioning.”

“I cannot believe you went to Burger Barn before me,” Maya says. “I can’t believe this! Was it as good as they say or is it overrated? I guess you probably haven’t had enough burgers to know—”

“I made it a point to visit several other burger joints in the time while I was in America, intending to make such a comparison,” Nahyuta interrupts, and Maya cackles at the thought, remembering Apollo lamenting his brother’s habit of obsessively over-researching anything that may tangentially cross his path. Like all the trials Maya has been involved in. Like burgers. Nahyuta raises his eyebrows at her outburst but continues, “From the samples that I have experienced” - experience a burger, that would be a great restaurant tagline, and Maya nearly laughs again - “I would rate it as the best.”

“Huh,” Maya says. She’s spent years convincing herself that they have to be overrated. “I guess we’ll have to go. And with Pearly too, it can be like another dimension of our training. I can’t believe I never thought of that trick before! Just treat it like training. I’ve been locked in cold mountain caves before, like oh no, the burger line is difficult somehow.”

“Oh Mystic Master of Kurain, cousin of mine, all your wisdom yet you missed this simple fact.” He says it so deadpan, only the corners of his eyes turning up with amusement.  

Maya sticks her tongue out at him. “Nick’s got a challenger - that is the most sarcastic way of calling me wise that I’ve ever heard. But I’ll—” She stops as something occurs to her. “You - you will come back to LA someday, right?” He isn’t running from an evil queen any longer. He has a home to stay in. 

“Of course,” he says. “I have people there I must ask forgiveness of, and I should like to visit your village someday, as well, to meet our cousin Pearly.”

She’s called her that so much that Nahyuta not knowing her doesn’t know that isn’t quite her name. She smiles. Maybe once she goes back to the village, she can convince Pearl that his name is Yuty and watch what happens when they meet. That would be funny. “And I would like Rayfa to be able to meet her, as well,” Nahyuta continues. “And for her to see more of the world beyond Khura’in.”

Pearl is only four years older than the princess, has had her world upended in much the same way to learn that her mother was not what she seemed, and by following her instructions Pearl was not doing right by the people she cared about. “That’d be good,” Maya says. They stand on the doorstep of the office, stare together up at the hand painted sign above the door. “I bet Pearly would love to meet you and show you around. Go to Burger Barn. Have a fun cousins hang-out. Get to know each other a little better.”

See if together they can find a way to do better than their mothers and aunts. Change the fate of their family. 

Nahyuta smiles. “I would like that.”

[janeaudron]

A very overdue update to this texture pack.

The price has now been increased to $25 and may increase in the future as the size of the pack grows.

Got over a 100 images for this update. Mix of big and small sheets and pieces of paper.

Further updates on this will be slow as it takes a lot of time to make marbles, scan, and edit the images. And also costs me money for the supplies.

And thank you to people that have purchased and spread this around!

——————

Gumroad: gumroad.com/l/sYKl

Artstation: artstn.co/m/JwVy

Deviantart: fav.me/dav8uj6

Etsy: etsy.me/33SD8sC

Also I’ve changed the licensing rules to match Artstation’s just to make it easier.

All the old and still relevant info below

—————-

300 DPI png scans of various papers I marbled for my Printmaking class but mainly I was experimenting with a new medium.

There are over 300+ pieces(and counting) in this pack, ranging from several different sizes. And all of this is Pay-What-You-Want starting at $25. This pack will also be updated in the future as I go about scanning and creating more marbled paper. So you only have to purchase it once and will continue to get more textures as I go about updating the pack.

The file size is over 2 GB(all files)(each file is available for separate downloading once purchased). The images have been separated into five folders because of what mediums/styles I was using to create the marbled paper:

EU- Short for the European style of marbling. Acrylic paints were used and carrageenan as the medium to suspend the paints in the water.

SUMI - Short for the Japanese style of marbling, suminagashi. An acrylic like dye/ink was used.

MIXED - I was experimenting with inks and the ‘poor man’s’ method of marbling by using starch and other things in place of carrageenan.

OILS - Oil paints were used mixed with the above methods of the MIXED and EU. The oils lead to some odd things happening.

MARABU - Testing out another marbling kit that’s a bit odd with how it works. Very vibrant but dries a bit too quickly before paper can be laid down leading to odd but interesting clumping or specks. (I warn you if you decide to by the Marabu marbling products to give them a try, they smell like death)

Credit to my textures is welcome but not needed. You can sell your created works with my textures as long as you do not claim that the textures are of your own creation.

[runeofthenord]

   I was not aware Post modernism had so many definitions so this article was certainly an interesting read. The article mentioned Damien Hirst who is certainly one of my favorite artists that I've been writing a research paper on recently. I identified with the mentioning as I see a bit of myself in Damien Hirst as an artist personally as I’m always looking at random objects and going “how can I incorporate this into art.” 

    To me post modernism was defined well by the Young British Artists, some of which were mentioned here such as Damien Hirst and Tracy Emin.  The YBA’s sought to create shocking and raw art from non art materials. Traditional materials of high art are considered things such paint, pencil, and canvas. Things that fit neatly in a gallery setting. Post modernism seems to look at things and go “this is art because I say it is” or “this is beautiful because I say it is” or perhaps “maybe art doesn’t have to be beautiful to be enjoyed.” It takes us back to the roots of Marcel Duchamp and his Fountain. Proclaiming something is art because the artist looks at it and says that it is so. This denotes that the artist has a lot of power in their title. Post modernism challenges the tidy structure of the gallery or sometimes fits the bizarre into the gallery without the usage of paint or pencil. 

1. Escaping the Confines of Museums: Lightning Field, Walter De Maria, 1977, Pointed Steel Rods: Although this is considered an earth work it is certainly post modern in the way it escapes the museum. It is breath taking union between land and sky that pushes the boundaries of what man can make into art. 

2. Collapsing Boundaries Between High and Low art: Girl with Hair Ribbon, Roy Lichenstein, 1965, Oil and Acrylic: This painting certainly reflects cutting the boundaries between high and low art due to the fact that is produced in a traditional high art medium, but reflects the low art style of cheap comic books. Combined, it creates something new. 

3. Rejecting Originality: Estate, Robert Rauschenberg, Oil and Silkscreen ink on canvas, 1963: I Think this work reflects objecting originality well because instead of inventing things purely meant for the purpose of aesthetic the work draws off of images one might see daily. Therefore drawing from everyday culture much in the way pop art would. 

4. Jouissance: Rhythm Zero, Marina Abramovic, Performance art, 1974: It was hard to really grasp the term and the meaning of it. The most I got out of it is that it is on the verge of something so pleasurable it grasps the threshold of pain. I think Rhythm 0 portrays this well as Abramovic left people in control to do as they pleased with her. This performance brought out the true animalistic qualities of human beings with the allowance of such freedom. 

5. Working Collectively: Rrose Selavy, Marcel Duchamp and Man Ray, 1920-1921, photograph,: This is a good example of artists working together on a project. Two early pioneer’s of Dada came together to shape Duchamp’s alter ego. Duchamp posed and Man Ray snapped each and every photograph of the female alter ego. 

6. Appropriating: Campbell’s Soup Cans, Andy Warhol, 1962, Screen printing on canvas: a very well known master of appropriation, Warhol would draw artistic inspiration from pop culture, mass consumerism, and advertisement culture. 

7. Simulating: You’re In, Andy Warhol, 1967, Spray Paint on glass bottles in printed wooden crate, With this category we see Andy Warhol again as he uses ordinary items to mimic a large chunk of consumerist culture and present it as art. 

8. Hybridizing: Char Nuptial Japon, Felix Armand Heullant, 19th Century, Oil on Canvas,: a strong example of hybridization is with the art movement of Japonisme. In this painting we see a very French impressionist style that is reflecting a very Japanese cultural atmosphere. 

9. Mixing Media: Monogram, Robert Rauschenberg, 1959, Oil on canvas, paper, wood, stuffed Angora Goat, tire : This work is a prime example of mixing medias as it combines several different elements together to make something between a painting and a sculpture. 

10. Layering: Golden Future, Sheppard Fairey, 2018, Color Screen Print and Multimedia Collage, : A prime example of layering many different images to create a singular piece. 

11. Mixing Codes: Power Washer, Banksy, Spray paint and Stencil, 2008, : This work mixes codes by the washing of what would be considered priceless parts of historical and cultural history in the form of cave paintings. The work offers a commentary on what we see as art vs. what we see as vandalism. 

12. Recontextualizing: The Golden Calf, Damien Hirst, 2008, Vitrine, Formaldehyde, calf, gold, gold plated stainless steel, marble, : this work represents the taking of something mundane and giving it new meaning with added materials and a title that denotes mystical and mythological qualities. 

13. Confronting the Gaze: How much Life is Enough?, Juno Calypso, 2018, photograph, : 

14. Facing the Abject: Blood Piss Blues Series, Vincius Quesada, Blood, urine, blue paint on canvas 

15. Constructing Identities:  Alvin Baltrop, Navy Sailors, 1969--72, Gelatin-silver print 

16. Using Narratives: After the Prom, Norman Rockwell, 1957, oil on canvas

17. Creating Metaphors: The Scream, Edvard Munch, 1893, tempera, pastel, oil paint

18. Irony, parody, and dissonance: The Treachery of Images, Rene Margritte, 1929, oil paint 

[sleepyfan-blog]

Hoodies with IBVS Crink?

Fandom: IBVS by @onebizarrekai

Characters and pairing: Christopher Jackson, Isaac Beamer, IBVS Crink

Warnings: none

Word count: 1,183

Summary: Chris’ boyfriend is a hoodie-stealing sneak. Clearly this calls for Vengeance.

“So that’s where my hoodie went! I’ve been looking for it for three days! Why do you have it anyways?” Chris grumbled, pouting a little at his boyfriend as he walked over to where Isaac was sitting - the other sketching something on a pad of paper.

“You said that I could borrow it - the hoodie I was wearing got splattered with paint in art class, remember?” Isaac responded with a shrug and a small, unrepentant grin on his face. “So I’ve kept it. It’s a really nice hoodie. And it reminds me of you, so win-win!”

The taller teen frowned a little, rolling his eyes and huffed a little before grumbling half-heartedly “I… I suppose that’s true… But that didn’t mean that you could keep my hoodie forever….” Isaac looked really adorable in his hoodie - the other was kind of drowning in it, and his sweater paws were cute.

Ink hummed a little, glancing up at Chris before stretching and slowly standing up, shuffling over to where his boyfriend was, and pulling him into a hug. He rested his head on one of the other’s shoulders, his eyes half-closing “Hmm… But I really wanna keep this. At least for a little while longer? I do have a spare hoodie in my backpack - you know the brown one with almost no paint stains on them? We could trade.”

Cross sighed a little as he wrapped his arms around the other, pressing an affectionate kiss to the top of Isaac’s head. He answered after a moment “Sure, if it’ll fit.”

“Hey, it’s not as if you’re that much taller or broader-shouldered than I am!” Ink gasped, mock-offended as he grinned up at Cross, slowly letting the other go and grabbing his backpack. He rifled through the main compartment, and pulled out his well loved, if slightly wrinkled hoodie, holding it out for Chris to take.

Cross smiled a little and put on the hoodie, grinning a little more when he realized that the brown sweater smelled like Ink- and understanding hit him over the head as to one of the reasons why the artistic teen might want to keep the sweater “Thanks Isaac. This is pretty comfy. Whatcha working on?”

“It’s the beginnings of my term project. We’re supposed to start by creating a sketch about what inspires us.” Ink responded with a small grin “Like… If being out in nature helps to inspire someone to create, we’re supposed to sketch out the ideal space. Along with, if we want to, the people who encourage us to continue to pursue art.” He’d started to sketch the park that they all lived near - or at least the beginnings of it. It was currently raining, and Isaac didn’t feel like getting soaked down to the bone. He was also trying to figure out how he wanted to sketch Cross into the scene. Maybe he’d have the other on one of the swings on the swing set… He’d also sketched the other in at least a dozen different ways  (occasionally with that sword that he could summon in hand, looking like a badass hero, and Isaac was looking up how to draw different kinds of armor, trying to decide what would fit the other best). Not that he would hint at the other’s unusual ability for something that was for school - he wouldn’t put the other’s secret in potential danger like that - as who knew how the adults would react to finding out that some of them had weird abilities.

“Oooh… I want to ask to see what you’ve got so far… But I don’t want to be too nosy. How big is the final drawing and/or painting supposed to be?” Cross asked curiously - he didn’t know much about art, but he wanted to do his best to encourage his beloved. Isaac was really talented and he was sure that the other could do a lot with it if he wanted to.

“It depends on the medium that we use… But I’m planning on using paint - I haven’t decided if I’m going to use acrylic, oil or watercolor… Oil painting is a pain because it takes the longest to dry between coats… And the scene that I plan on drawing… I…” Isaac is tempted to use water colors - which is different than what he normally uses - but he has such a striking image of Cross and him on the swing set, almost but not quite holding hands, the sunset in the background painting them in a variety of colors… And the soft colors that he can picture in his mind are more suited to water colors than the other two… He’s also tempted to do it in black and white - perhaps using charcoal and colored pencil. He plans on sketching out the scene from several different perspectives and using different techniques before settling on one. He’s got the entire semester in order to get it done - but the deadline for a five by five inch pen and pencil lined drawing of his scene is due in less than a month, and Ink is feeling a little unsure as to how well it will go.

Cross notices the other’s distress and leans in close, pressing a light kiss to Isaac’s lips, one of his hands coming up and gently brushing a stray lock of hair out of the other’s face, a small grin appearing on his face “Hey, it’s okay, Isaac. You’ll be fine. Maybe you should take a little break? You seem to be pretty stressed about this art project… I know you’ve been working on it for a while. Why don’t you show me that new indie horror game you wanted me to play. I haven’t yet because my computer got confiscated… Again…”

Isaac scowled a little at the implications of Chris’ father being a shitty asshole again - but brightened at the thought of being able to see the other’s ridiculously endearing reactions to the games that he really liked to play. “Sounds good to me! My parents won’t be home until late - and they left me enough money for pizza or whatever we want to order in. I’ll make the call and we’ll settle in for a few rounds of The Darkness Within - I’ve only played the first couple of hours, and it’s got a great atmosphere and a fascinating storyline so far.”

Cross nodded, helping the other set up the player “Hey - can we have some wings with the pizza and soda? I’ll pay for the extra, if they didn’t leave enough. I’ve been craving some super spicy hot wings for weeks and it’s been killing me.”

“Sounds great!” Ink responded with a grin, already scrolling through his phone to pick out the pizza place that would deliver fastest - delighted that their favorite place was running a special that allowed them two extra-large pizzas and soda for half off. “Oh hey, if we order garlic bread, they’ll throw in a dozen wings for free with this online coupon. What do you think?”

“I love garlic bread. Let’s go for it.” Cross grinned back, nodding.

[elizardc-arts]

Drawing Daily in 2018!

Hi, it’s me - Eliza! I decided to draw everyday for 2018 and posted the process in instagram. Each month I did a drawing challenge and each month I tried out a new medium.

January

Creatuary: Mythical Creatures. I was lowkey doing the Creatuanary challenge created by dibujantenocturno, joshuacairos_art, and rafater_official. What’s fun about Creatuanary was that they tell you what the prompt for the day only so you can’t really pre-plan and just have to do things on the spot. I think it’s a really fun exercise. The medium I used for this month was the Zig Brushable Markers. They’re for calligraphy but I like doing art with them, they’re super nice. I highly recommend them to anyone. They’re kind of my go to markers. Though, I haven’t actually experimented with TomBows or the Prismacolors or Copics at all so I’d take what I say with a grain of salt.

February

Faebruary: Fairies! There’s also FaerieFeb hosted by archibald.art and maxineart. This was super fun. This was one of my favourite challenges. I don’t know if it was the medium I used or the subject matter - probably a combination of both! I used watercolours - a Palette of Prang - and I really enjoyed it. I hadn’t used watercolours since I was in high school and I remember not exactly enjoying the experience overall but within three days of painting fairies I’ve gone aboard the watercolour boat and I don’t wanna get down!

March

March of Robots: Robots! Created by chocolatesoop - MoR is super bomb. I used Stabilo Boss Highlighters for this month and my big take is HIGHLIGHTERS DO NOT SCAN WELL. Or at all. Also, I hear they fade. So, it’s not really a medium that has ‘archival quality’. However, it was super fun. I love using bright obnoxious colours. Everything just pops! Also! They give away brand spankin’ new wacom tablets to five lucky participants regardless of skill level! I highly recommend anyone join this!  

April

AstroApril: Constellations and planets! I couldn’t really find a monthly drawing challenge I wanted to do this month so I decided to make my own with AstroApril! I love the stars and galaxy art is always great so I figured why not? And - I decided to use coloured pencils - I got a pack of Prismacolors. Two things - one Prismacolors are the best coloured pencils I have ever used ( I’ve only used student quality sets thus far so I might not have the best grasp of the best coloured pencil sets) - they blend well and are so so creamy it’s such a dream! Two - I don’t recommend using coloured pencils when doing galaxy art. It was fun sure - and I have a deep relationship with coloured pencils now that I have never had before but in terms of efficiency, specially with the subject matter - I highly discourage it. It took me a very long time to create each piece. I guess that’s just the way things are with coloured pencil but you can get the galaxy effect very easily with paints.

May

MerMay: Mermaids! Created by tombancroft1 - mermaids were fun! You gotta play with fluidity and it was a fun challenge trying to figure out which pose to do. I also considering it was May - Star Wars Month - enjoyed drawing star wars characters as mermaids. I used gouache for this and wow is gouache great! If you’ve never used gouache before, just imagine what would happen if acrylics and watercolours had a baby. I used a reeves set that was gifted to me. And considering its a student quality kit, it gave me a very nice taste of what could be accomplished with gouache. I’m highly considering investing in a more heftier set of gouache.

June

Journey June: the hero’s journey in art challenge form! This was great because it introduced me to a lot of cool new things like Creative Twitch Streams and the process of conceiving a story. Better yet! It introduced me to cloverkin and galvosaur the pair who created Journey June. They’re super cool hoomans and I recommend you drop by their stream. Also! I made a story! It’s about a hornless unicorn and he goes on an adventure to try and get a horn. I used mechanical pencils with coloured lead to draw my illustrations. They weren’t the greatest to work with considering the lead broke easily. I’d probably use actual pencils for this next time.

July

Julycanthropy: Werewolves! On the high of making a story from Journey June, I thought it would be fun to do another one for Julycanthropy. I used black paper and white charcoal/white coloured pencil for this. White charcoal is more vibrant against the black but white coloured pencil doesn’t smudge. It was a fun challenge to think in reverse and only colour the highlights instead of the shadows.

August

Smaugust - This is probably my least favourite drawing challenge I did this year. I used pentel oil pastels which I liked well enough but I just don’t think dragons are my thing. Also, I wished my country sold oil pastels per piece. My white oil pastel is very very smol.

September

Sketchtember: Sketches all month long! I sketched out hoomans! I’ve always wanted to draw humans but I’ve always been somewhat intimidated. I’m not so sure why anymore, they’re fun! I’m a little bit addicted. I used graphite and this little pilot lead holder - very fun, highly recommend.

October

Inktober: Inks all month long! Does Inktober really need an intro? Made by jakeparker - it’s just all about practicing your inking skills for the month. I drew more humans for inktober - this time with pet familiars! I used faber castell ecco-pigment and I used this fancy bristol paper. This was amazing. A pair made in heaven. I think I’d like to use maybe a brush pen next time to cover up larger areas but all in all no regrets!

November

Huevember: Colours all month long! I used Stabilo Chalk Pastels on Pastel paper! I decided to do the greek gods and goddesses and zodiac women. I’m not sure pastels are my forte to be honest. They’re fun but I guess they’re just not my thing. I really like the pastel paper though. They’re a bit pricy so I shouldn’t really be so surprised at how well they held onto the chalk pastels. However, because the pastel paper I decided to use was multi-coloured it was really difficult to tell the colour gradient between each piece. Kinda ruins the Huevember effect - Still a fun learning experience over all though!

December

Drawcember: Free Draw! There’s no particular prompt list for this monthly challenge it’s just free draw - which is a lot harder is some ways so I decided to make my own list again. I was inspired by the theme of demons and angels. I thought because of the free draw nature of the challenge, to use mixed media. This was very difficult for me. I ended up just doing portions of ink and portions of paint separately but ideally I wanted a more happy marriage of the two. I definitely need more practice in mixing the different mediums. But on the flipside - I was definitely pleased I was painting again. I enjoy painting a lot. Though - skin tones - very difficult to get right. It wasn’t too bad when I was painting demon skin or angel skin - but human skin has a lot going on.  

General Thoughts

I honestly can’t believe I managed to do 365+ drawings throughout the whole year. It was both easier and harder than I thought it would be. You have good days and bad. I think for anyone planning to attempt this, take advantage of your good days - pop as much drawings as you can out and go easy on yourself during your bad days - you can always always catch up. Sometimes you just need a little break and that’s okay.

I learned a lot, made a lot of pals, and I’m definitely looking forward to next year.

Woo!

Best, E

[fallenesspoetry]

As Hot As You Can Go (full text)

AO3 FFN FICBOOK (RUS)

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Donald Ressler/Jessie Brooks (OFC)

Warnings: Nudity, Swearing.

Summary: Donald Ressler doesn’t expect someone to take care of him.

"Who's there?" Donald asked as someone knocked in his door outside.

It was a sheer luck he decided to check if the door was locked otherwise he wouldn't have even heard the tap. His doorbell was dead, and, frankly speaking, he had no desire or time to fix it. He wasn't expecting anyone to come over, anyway.

Even if someone was interested in stopping by, it wasn't the best time to visit—Donald had been recovering from a nasty shot in the leg for almost two weeks and he wasn't in the mood of welcoming any late night guests.

The cane and painkillers were his best pals, because the slightest movement echoed with excruciating pain.

In spite of his condition, Donald insisted on coming back to work, agreeing to the desk duty. His job had been everything for him, whatever grunt and dangerous it sometimes might have been.

He heard a muffled voice outside.

"It's me, Jessie."

It was his colleague, Jessie Brooks.

Quietly cursing, Donald hung his black coat back on the rack. He also put his car keys and the badge which said Special Agent Donald Ressler in the drawer underneath the rack, and hurried to open the door. It took him a minute longer than usual.

"Hey, Don, sorry to drop by like this," Jessie blurted as if someone was after her.

Agent Brooks had been recently transferred from New York to Washington, and at first Donald saw her as a younger sister who needed to be looked after.

At the office she was a disaster: always late with the reports, almost as stressed as the suspect when it came down to the interrogation, and nearly dozed at briefings.

Donald tried hard to look for an explanation, but since Jessie was great in the field and had had his back so many times he'd lost count, he helped her with the paperwork. Unexpectedly for them both, but mostly for Ressler, they became best friends. They covered each other if needed, and hang out till dawn in bars.

At first it seemed odd for Donald his partner wasn't eager to go home (he thought Jessie was seeing someone). It turned out she'd rather spend time with him scolding at their boss, drinking and talking than coming back to an empty apartment.

It was out of question for them both to fool around to blow some steam off since they could get their asses in a big trouble. Not mentioning the overall morning after awkwardness.

Three weeks ago the blacksite they operated from was under siege, resulted in the worst nightmare of any operative: a clash in a closed area, outnumbered, communications jammed. Somehow the terrorists had learned about the blacksite's location, infiltrated it and took its personnel hostage.

Jessie was late at work on that day, but managed to sneak in unnoticed. She disabled the jammers, and slipped out to come back with the cavalry later. But Donald hadn't been that lucky: he caught a bullet in his leg, trying not to give up the warehouse with explosives.

However, when it was over, Jessie was back to her usual absent-minded self, and Don tried his best to help her.

That's what friends do, right?

Now Jessie, a short, strongly built woman, nervously tugged the zipper of her rain-soaked leather jacket. When Donald first met her he thought she looked, at best, eighteen. She was almost the same age as him, though. Few years younger, give or take.

A couple of curly dark-brown strands broke out of her red cap. She had a shy look on her almost childish, round face. There was a pair of bags from the supermarket.

"I thought, you know, you're here, all alone… Damn, it's not what I meant," she stammered, her cheeks blushing.

Donald didn't get where it was all coming from given the countless times they would talk about occasional one-night stands or cracked dirty jokes.

It was the first time they met like this, since Don had never been at Jessie's. They both preferred not to mix their private life and work.

And, to be honest, Donald didn't think of himself as a charmer. Of course, there were some lucky nights here and there, with no names or calls after, but that was it.

"Yeah, of course," he curved his lips in a sly smile. "Come on in already."

The bags looked heavy, but in his condition…

"I wish I could—"

"Nah, I'm cool," Jessie interrupted him, sounding less tense. She lift the bags and sauntered inside.

Donald locked the door, his eyes kept on Jessie's back. It was kinda unexpected that someone had actually bothered to check on him... Unlike those "friends" at Quantico who hadn't even called over these years.

Meanwhile, Jessie hung her leather jacket and a cap on the rack, and took off her sneakers. She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt and a plaid shirt, almost matching his own home outfit, except the shirt. That seemed odd, since she must be just from work. You couldn't walk into the office like that unless you were going undercover.

"I thought you're free at ten," Donald wondered as they walked to the kitchen, passing a small living room where the faded wall paint asked to be refreshed, and it'd be nice to replace a sofa, too.

There was a neat pile of The Washington Post on the table. A just opened bottle of Heineken loomed lonely on the scratched surface.

"I left earlier. You should see Cooper's face when I told him that," Jessie giggled. "He couldn't forbid me to use my overtime, so here I am. Oh, and if he asks, I had some "family matters", alright? My nephew or what-not… What's so funny?" she broke off, seeing Ressler slyly crinkling his eyes and grinning widely.

"'Family matters', huh? You prefer what, 'sweetie' or 'honey'?"

"Shut up or I'll feed you this carrot. And not in the mouth."

Jessie washed her hands, dried them with the towel and started going through the groceries, putting them either on table or in the fridge.

Suddenly a very strange thought, given their relationship with Jessie, appeared in Donald's mind.

What if every evening could be like that?

Hadn't he wanted at times to leave the job, sell the apartment, empty all the savings and buy some nice house far away from here? Somewhere near the lake or river. To have a life, a family of his own, and a kid or two.

He forced his thoughts back to the present.

"Don't get me wrong, but how do you expect me to eat all that?" Donald sighed, pretending to sound annoyed. He placed himself comfortably in the chair, putting his cane away.

"Who knows, Don, maybe 'honey' will stay here till morning."

Their looks met.

Donald couldn't read anything in her hazel eyes, resembling now spilled amber ink.

Couldn't one just screw all these rules and do what they want?

On one hand, he didn't want to ruin their friendship with a short moment of weakness. On the other hand…

Actually, if she brought this thing up, could that mean she also wanted it?

…Or maybe, it was just another joke.

"So, how you want it?" Jessie asked, looking him straight in the eye, her voice calm and crisp.

"Want what?"

He completely lost the direction this conversation was going to.

"The steak, Ressler. Rare, medium-rare, medium, well done?"

Jessie grinned and took a massive cut of beef from the fridge, and laid it on the chopping board. A moment later she opened the exact drawer where he kept the knives.

"I guess, medium is okay… Listen, you need a hand or something?"

Jessie put away the knife she was sharpening and opened the cupboard. She took a few plates, two glasses, two forks and two butter knives.

"Here," Jessie gave him a dish towel, and went back on to cutting the meat. Finished, she soaked it with oil, seasoned it with salt, pepper and also added a few other spices he had no slightest idea of.

Donald didn't remember having anything else than salt and pepper.

Jessie noticed his confused look.

"These are mine. I wasn't sure you had something."

"You don't live in here, right?” Donald joked, drying the dishes, as he watched Jessie seasoning already peeled potatoes in salt and flour.

"Sorry, what?" Jessie asked, turning the stove on, and leaving the potatoes to roast.

"I said, you look like you've lived here forever."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

She licked a drop of the barbecue sauce from her finger.

"It's just I remembered something," Donald said, trying to ignore a totally inappropriate thought crossing his mind. He blamed the painkillers for it.

"Ah, I see. Who knows Don, who knows…"

Jessie resisted an urge to laugh, seeing how Donald's features changed: his green eyes widened, and it seemed that even his bright ginger hair had lost a shade or two.

She chuckled. "For the record, you did nothing inappropriate." The look on his face told her he didn't believe it, so she added, "Relax, Don, we were off the minute we got into your bed."

She put the steaks in the pan, and leaned to do a raincheck on the potatoes.

Donald was staring at her back, thinking. She seemed different. Not her straightforward, arrogant, sharp-tongued self.

She was… cozy. It's a weird comparison, but that's the closest one he could find to express what he felt right now.

"Stop staring at me like that, Ressler."

She kept grilling the steaks, flipping them.

"I'm not staring, I'm watching. Just in case."

"Just in case?" Jessie wondered, serving the hot steaks on the plate and covering them with foil. Next, she turned the potatoes off.

Turning her face to Donald, she caught a sliding dish towel from her shoulder, and tucked a loose curly strand behind her ear.

Something had changed in her as she approached him.

Her T-shirt clung to her body and her tight jeans embraced the curves of her hips. She came so close her knees were touching his.

At this moment Donald deeply regretted that first of all, Jessie was his friend, and only then—a very attractive woman.

"Maybe, that night I couldn't help but…" Jessie whispered into his ear. She almost breathed the words out, her voice low and deep.

He knew that voice—she occasionally used it over the phone when they needed to smoke the guy out.

Jessie took a long pause. Her uneven breath tickled his ear. Her body was in a very dangerous proximity to his.

"…grab a beer from your fridge."

Damn it!

He got played like some fucking teenager.

You won't get away with it.

"I found your bra in the morning."

Jessie froze, baffled, like a typical straight-A college girl, caught off guard with a question she had no answer to.

Donald struggled to hide a winning smile, watching her.

She hadn't noticed him grinning, her thoughts back to that particular night at Ressler's place.

Both of them were so hammered, that even if something did happen, it wouldn't really matter. She hoped it hadn't. She really liked her job.

And then it came down to her. 

The smile Donald had right now on his face would make Cheshire cat green with envy.

"Ressler! You sly ginger ass!"

Donald acted on instinct: he ducked from the blow and clenched her wrist, pulling Jessie closer.

Her wrist was still damp from water. She had firm, strong hands, but one wouldn't tell that at once. Donald had seen quite often the marks her punches left. No, he wouldn't want to piss her off.

Well, this steak is definitely a turn-on.

This thought had almost made him laugh.

Or was it something else?

At this job you couldn't even remember when it was the last time someone took care of you. The FBI had been everything for him—his wife and his mistress.

And there was that night. Donald's rational self preferred to think nothing happened, but the irrational—wished it woud.

It was super easy with Jessie. She was a great listener and would always find a joke to lighten the mood. However, when you gave her a headstart, she'd talk you to death.

For a moment Donald felt sorry for all those times she had to listen to him bragging about this or that girl he'd got laid.

Suddenly, his left hand acted on its own, sliding a few inches down Jessie's waist.

Totally shocked by his own audacity, Donald yanked it away and loosened his grip.

But Jessie wasn't rushing to step back.

Donald couldn't even say a word, when the dish towel slightly swatted him.

"Sit down and eat."

Her calm and a bit tired voice gave him hope she wasn't angry.

Jessie turned her back from him, grabbing beer from the fridge.

Sure, she must be thinking what a jerk he was.

Or worse.

Things were complicated, because Donald was in charge of the taskforce. And that meant he was her boss. They would always laugh at Jessie, who ignored any kind of subordination. It constantly got her into a lot of trouble. On top of that, her rank was lower than Donald's, and she had been also granted only level two clearance, while Don had level four. Jessie had to wait for half a year to take an exam to upgrade her rank.

Donald, on the other hand, did his best to keep both of them out of trouble.

He and Jessie were very different: she could spark with anger faster than one could lit a match, but she cooled off fast; Don was cold-blooded and reasonable, not letting his emotions to stand in his way.

"Jess, listen..."

Jessie silently cut the roasted potatoes in half, adding a small piece of butter inside, and put them on his plate.

A card player couldn't do a better poker face she was having right now.

Of course, she was ignoring him.

Who wouldn't?

"Jessie..." Donald was almost pleading.

Not uttering a word, Jessie opened the beer, pouring first a glass for him, then for herself.

"Let's blame it on painkillers," she said, her voice flat.

Donald wanted to apologize, yet all the excuses seemed so dumb and lousy...

"Just eat already. Or I'll change my mind."

How come he had never noticed what a radiating smile she had?

*

"…and he choked on his joint when you told him that."

Donald laughed almost to tears. It was one of their night shifts—they were surveilling some junkie whose drug dealer was a subject of their murder investigation.

Jessie, chuckling, opened another beer. Pouring Donald a glass, she suddenly frowned her face.

"You had your meds today?"

"I think I did. Or not. Not sure, really. Actually, it's on you."

"We can always refresh your memory," Jessie pointed at the dish towel behind her back on the chair. "When?"

"In the afternoon, I guess."

"Ressler!"

Donald noticed that the strange mix of anger and worry made her face even more attractive.

"No, it's okay, really. For the first time in days."

He wasn't lying, because for the past few hours the leg indeed didn't hurt at all. And he completely forgot about taking his meds throughout the day.

Jessie's gaze faded a bit. She looked anxious. And sad.

"You okay?" Donald wished he could stand up quickly and hug her. "Thank you," he gently squeezed her hand.

If this gesture confused her somehow, she hadn't shown it.

"No big deal. I don't have anyone to cook for anyway."

Jessie sounded cheerful, but one could hear a trace of longing in her voice.

Don knew that feeling too well. He hadn't gotten to say a word to comfort her, as the phone rang somewhere in the hall.

"It's mine," Jessie blurted, rising herself from the seat. A moment later, she disappeared in the hall.

Don, pouring himself another glass, was thinking what a great evening it had been. It was actually the first time he ate something home-cooked, because usually he picked some Chinese to save time.

His apartment wasn't spacious, so one could hear everything, even if one talked quietly. However, quiet was not Jessie's style. She swore loud and dirty, like a sailor on the ship.

Don didn't care about swearing as he would do the same once or twice. In the end, everyone blew their steam off any way they could, right?

"…No, I fucking can't!"

Jessie came back looking like she could choke anyone who's going to ask her if she's okay. Donald had no intention to see it come true, so he refilled her glass and prepared to listen.

"You wouldn't believe it!"

"Try me."

"Apparently some jerk decided it's a good idea to cook meth in the building I'm fucking living. Of course, a moron he is, this idiot screwed up." She gulped her beer. "The police asked everyone to crash someplace else for the night."

Not thinking twice, Donald suggested, "You can stay here."

Jessie studied him for a moment with her eyes. They grew few shades darker, now resembling a strongly brewed coffee.

"You won't hit on me, right?"

"You want me to?" Donald raised his brow. "I can take the couch," he added.

Well, he couldn't blame her for the remark—she had her reasons. It made him upset somehow. He couldn't get why, though.

"And kill me the next morning? First, your leg, then your back." Jessie took the last bite of the steak. "The couch is okay, thanks."

Don went to look for the quilt and a spare pillow. When he came back, Jessie was doing dishes.

"Go and rest, now," she scolded him like a mother.

He put away his cane, took a dish towel and leaned against the table.

She gave him another angry look.

"I'm not a kid, Jess..."

He didn't finish because in an instant sharp, unbearable pain pierced his leg. It was as if someone tied a knot with his muscles and nerves, tying it tighter and tighter, twisting and pulling, the pain resonating all over his body.

"Fuck!"

He would have fallen but for Jessie's instant reaction. She caught him in a field nurse manner, placing his hand across her shoulder, embracing his waist with her other.

As Donald was taller than her, he occasionally buried his face in her hair, smelling the scent of spices she used cooking.

"Can you walk?"

Don shook his head. He wished he could have cut his leg, if only it would stop aching.

"No offense, but my shoulders getting numb. Where are the pills?"

"My pocket." But as Jessie's hand reached the side pocket, he added, "No, at the back. You have to—"

"I got it," Jessie hissed, trying not to think that he actually had quite an ass. She sometimes checked it out when he, acting bossy, ran here and there in the office. More than she cared to admit it became the reason of misspelled words and missing chunks in her reports.

Muttering, Jessie slid her hand into Donald's back pocket. "And here I thought this couldn't get any more awkward."

"You say like you've never seen my… Ouch!"

Boy, that hurts. Why would she pinch him?.. Yeah. Right. The bra joke.

"Keep quiet, Ressler... It's empty."

Don wanted to joke but another round of pain got the best of him. Burying his face again in Jessie's hair, he groaned through his clenched teeth.

Jessie gently stroked his back, embracing him tighter. A lot of thoughts were drumming in her mind now.

What could possibly ease his pain? An abrupt change of sensation?

Okay. Let's assume it could work. But what exactly?

Suddenly she got an idea. The most crazy and worst idea ever, but if it could help…

"Try to lean against the table with your back."

He didn't really believe it would make any difference.

"Don, just trust me, okay?"

And he did as she asked.

"Close your eyes," Jessie's surreal voice coated him in warmth.

His mind, exhausted from the pain, didn't even bother to pose a question 'what for'.

In less than a second Donald felt her small, slightly wet, warm lips pressed against his own.

It indeed felt much better.

Unexpectedly for himself Donald answered her gentle and unsure kiss with aggressive persistence. His hands slid under her T-shirt. She shuddered, but hadn't broke the kiss.

But he did.

"You sure?" Donald asked, his voice resembling an aroused cat in heat purring.

"Yes," Jessie breathed out, kissing him again, this time much harder, running her fingers through his hair, tugging on it.

She wanted to learn each inch of his lips by heart, as those were changing their mood—gentle at first, yet demanding, and then—as hungry as her own.

Donald's hands possessively slid under her T-shirt again. Jessie, taking the hint, freed herself from both shirt and the tee. A moment later her bra joined the rest on the floor.

Kissing Donald again, she pressed her body against his.

Don, gently breaking the kiss, ran his fingers over her breasts. When he lightly grazed her nipples, unsure of how she wanted it, rough or gentle, Jessie, catching her breath, wondered, what for to have such experienced hands if not using them with proper pressure?

Grinning at this remark, Donald complied. His touches got harder. Jessie groaned. She kissed him again, this time impatiently, digging her nails into his cheekbones.

Donald got his finger wet with saliva and caressed her hardened nipples, watching her body grow more and more supple. She melted into his lightest touch, breathing out something incoherent.

He slid his right hand down to her jeans.

Out of sudden, her thighs slammed his hand shut like a trap.

Well, this was unexpected.

"I need this hand, Jessie," he purred almost in a cat-like manner, kissing her in the neck.

Jessie, still not sure how she felt about what was happening, tried to ignore how quickly his soothing voice turned her on.

It turned out Donald wasn't to give up that easily: the things he was doing with his lips on her neck made her feel like a horny college girl. Her thighs had treacherously opened.

At some point he had hungrily sucked on her neck, almost biting it.

"Jeez, Don, it's not a steak."

Ressler softly nibbled her neck with small, light kisses. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging her body against his. He wasn't overly fit or too lean, just somewhere in between.

"Feeling… better?" Jessie wondered, catching her breath again.

It should have been one fucking kiss!

"I'm not sure," Donald grinned. Now he reminded her of a well-fed ginger cat, content and sly. "It's much better than the pills."

"Don't get too comfortable. It's a one-time offer."

"Don't you like it?" Donald reached to the fly of Jessie's jeans, pretending to be hurt by her words. Unzipping it, he stripped them down a little.

"No, not even—"

The words got lost a halfway through her throat, when Jessie felt his left hand roaming her breasts, this time grazing them harder than before. His right hand slid down beneath her jeans and he pushed aside her underwear with his finger.

Her jeans didn't actually prevented her from getting high on his touches. Yet without them it would be a thousand times better. With this thought in mind, Jessie hastily pushed them down along with the underwear.

"You still don't like it?" Donald wondered, his voice suave and lower then before.

Not giving a damn he could lose his balance, he licked Jessie's hardened nipple with the tip of his tongue, simultaneously caressing her damp, warm flesh with his fingers. He wasn't in a hurry to slip them inside, taking pleasure in driving her crazy.

"R-ressler… we... will… fall..." Jessie was almost growling, aggressively tugging on his hair, breathing unsteadily.

When his fingers caressed her clit, her bizarre, dirty whisper turned into a pleading moan.

His touches were knowing and precise.

He rubbed. Circled. Stoked. Pressed.

Rough. Light. Rough. Light. Up-and-down. Less rough. Lighter. Almost weightless. A bit harder. Harder. Rougher. Slow. Slower. Almost idle. Quick. Quicker.

And then he would start over again.

Jessie's body shuddered, and he knew her release was close.

Unfortunately, given his condition, multitasking was difficult: it became harder to keep his balance and caress Jessie, so her orgasm had to be delayed till better times.

The tip of his tongue toyed with her nipples one last time, and he leaned back against the table.

"I know it, I'm not an idiot," Donald whispered huskily, struggling to keep his balance.

"I highly d—" Jessie didn't finish, because he pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss turned out to be a lot more intense than he expected to. Jessie answered him, digging her fingers fiercely into his jaw. Her tongue delved into his mouth.

"We… can't… keep it… like this," Jessie said, panting, like she had just run a marathon.

But for his leg he was guaranteed to have fucked her right here fifteen minutes ago. And thinking about it had turned her on even more.

Where the fuck those damn painkillers are?

"Something's on your mind?" Donald asked, keeping himself cool as if they were discussing another ongoing case.

Jessie was looking unthinkably hot at this moment: her dark curls, coiled in a snake-like manner, fell loosely on her shoulders; red cheeks resembled two ripe apples, skin reddened from his touches.

Acting like she hadn't heard his question, Jessie turned, kicking her piled clothes aside with her foot. She left the room, not even bothering the neighbors might see her naked shape in the window.

Five minutes passed. Though it felt like forever.

Donald carefully stretched his numb back.

"I'm still here, Jess."

Nothing.

"Listen, I get it if you're on your own. But at least let me watch."

What was she thinking, leaving him all hard up like this? To put it mildly, it's at least not fair. Well, she must be feeling not that great too, given the fact he...

And then it occured to him: she must be looking for his painkillers.

"Shut up, Ressler, if you don't want to be up like that all night," Jessie hissed angrily from the bathroom, going through his meds in the drawer.

What a fucking mess!

Jeez, one could jack up half a block with these. Well, it was the same way at her place. Stress relievers, antidepressants… You name it.

"I'm up anyway."

"Yeah, I can see that," Jessie smirked, coming back in the kitchen.

She gave him one snow-white pill and a glass of water.

"Thanks."

The minutes had never dragged for so long.

Don was devouring Jessie with his eyes, contemplating.

What for to look for something far and unreachable, if everything you ever needed was right by your side?

"Better?" she asked, her crisp voice filled with sincere worry and something else he couldn't make yet.

Donald nodded.

Jessie hadn't gotten a chance to say something else. In an instant she found herself sitting on the dinner table.

"I hate to be a buzzkill..." Donald approached her. His hands stroke her thighs, and those spread at his touch.

Jessie grabbed him by his belt and pulled him closer to her. Rapidly undoing it, she hastily unzipped his fly.

"Woah, easy there. I'm gonna need it."

"Shut up already and fuck, Ressler."

[laetro]

Archer Dougherty: Experiment to Eliminate Fear of Failure

Archer Dougherty strongly disbelieves in nurturing a “signature style,” instead of encouraging artists to constantly experiment with thought, concept, visual language and so on. Mostly self-taught while social media was still in its infancy, she dove into an exploratory approach to develop her skill and vision through a mixture of learning from failures and little successes. Not trying ensures one is not a failure but neither a success, she realised.

For over ten years, Archer Dougherty specialised in design and 2D work, drawing being her favourite mode. Though she studied sculpting and print-making at her local state university, Archer trained herself technically in contemporary art through emerging social media. She loves football, hiking, Shiba Inus and dreams of having a farm populated with mini animals.

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Q. What got you started as an artist and what path did you take thereon to grow and evolve at your craft?

Archer Dougherty: It may sounds cliché but I’ve drawn it ever since I can remember. I always gravitated toward art, so my career was simply a natural outgrowth of that relationship. I tried to pursue a formal art education but couldn’t afford to go to a proper brick-and-mortar art school and the internet wasn’t much of a thing in the late ’90s. So, I attended my local state university and studied sculpting and printmaking there but was discouraged from focusing on anything narrative.

After academia, the internet was gaining traction and the backlash in my mental space resulting from an education that didn’t ignite any real passion launched my true artistic training. Books, an infant YouTube, Facebook, and an even newer Instagram put me in touch with contemporary art which was being done in the ‘now’ and seemed important. I began my technical training through these channels and have been flying along this learning curve ever since.

Q. What would you say is your signature style in your works and what is your process to achieve it?

Archer Dougherty: I don’t relate to the phrase “signature style.” I think it is used way too often to catalogue for branding purposes, which has a use in the larger market, but it should not be a “goal” in itself for any artist in terms of the artistic process. When younger students are bombarded with art through social media, as they are now, and see profile after profile showcasing a very polished and specific personal visual language, they grow walls around their thinking, making them single-mindedly pursue the idea of a “signature style.”

It inhibits growth and takes up way too much mental space in anyone’s head, especially for those starting. I believe in pursuing ideas and experiments, technical and conceptual stepping stones and failures, and that your language will mature as you make mistakes and learn what appeals to you both spiritually and intellectually and what does not.

Simply copying or attempting to imitate a style to follow someone’s career arc will end up making you feel like you have to wear a suit that no longer fits, though it’s what everyone has come to expect. The way my art looks and feels has come through years of absolute and abysmal failures at every technique and visual language imaginable while also recognising those small successes which add up to a rich and fulfilling personal output.

It is a massive additive compilation of preferences in art history, literature, movies, comics and illustration. These preferences are arrived at simply by trying new things all the time. A lot of artists are afraid of failure but they don’t realize that failure isn’t even a thing until you try. If you don’t constantly try, you won’t be a failure but neither a success. You won’t be anything at all.

Q. What subjects, mediums and tools do you most like to work with?

Archer Dougherty: I sort of work with everything. My current technical preferences are oil on board, traditional, Procreate and the iPad digital. I prefer environment design and experimenting with colour psychology on my iPad. When I paint in oils, I prefer symbolist portraiture.

Q. What do you suggest artists and clients both should keep in mind to work together efficiently?

Archer: Communication and transparency. Understanding the other party’s priorities is essential so that both can understand each other’s point of view and reach a solid mid-point.

Q. How do you achieve a sense of 2D realism, symmetry and depth across your works?

Archer Dougherty: I’ve put myself through a decade of learning to ingrain the fundamentals of things such as an approach to realism, value structure, anatomy, light, form, mass, composition, colour, etc. I use those learnings to create from my mind when I want to. Actual symmetry is utilised in a lot of art, native art and, I suppose, one could say a great composition utilises a form of visceral symmetry.

If you don’t constantly try, you won’t be a failure but neither a success. You won’t be anything at all

Q. What kind of projects are you currently working on and what kind are you looking to work on in the future?

Archer Dougherty: My projects vary greatly, depending on my mood. When I die, I will have so many unfinished works that my family won’t be able to sell any of them. In terms of future projects, I have many animated shorts and self-published printmaking collections mulling around in my head. Narrative painting projects and the likes, too. Pinpointing one and beginning is ninety percent of the work.

Q. Could you please highlight some of your most notable works and why you find them noteworthy?

Archer: I have a singular notable work that no one has seen. In my opinion, it is the culmination of years of introspection, practicing self-awareness and reflection, learning largely academic techniques and then learning to be alright with abandoning them when it suited the work. It is the result of self-discipline and self-abandonment and a study of the essence.

It is the one piece in which I can say I was fully immersed, mind and body, from beginning to end and it is mine in its entirety, called “Metempsychosis: The Transmigration of Souls”, an ink, oil, shellac and wax medium on seven panels across seven feet. I’ll get it framed one of these days.

Q. What has been your greatest insights as an artist, with time?

Archer Dougherty:

1. Discovery – that I didn’t have to look or feel or make art like anyone else to make great art was possibly this discovery.

2. Cross-discipline learning is the greatest asset you can have to make richer and fuller art throughout your life. Study the sciences, literature, poetry, humanities, etc.

3. My penchant for the “big questions” allowed me to pursue my visual language on a level that both challenged and fulfilled me. I used the thoughts surrounding these questions to ask more questions rather than be plagued by a lack of answers.

4. Art is the reflection of a thing, not the thing itself.

Q. Who has been your favourite clients to work with and why?

Archer Dougherty: Modern Eden Gallery in San Francisco remains one of my top favourites. They are generous, truly care about their artists’ wellbeing and prioritise good relationships. They are good people. Dave and Brett from Laetro have quickly made the top of the list, as well, through their generosity, vision, intelligence, and communal priorities.

I also loved working with Magnetic Dreams Animation Studio – the same adjectives tend to apply to the people who make my top clients list. I feel that communication, a mutually beneficial relationship, and empathy are important in any client relationship.