zephyraster

[zephyraster]

i spent way too much time on this design i swear. had a blast drawing it though!

[zephyraster]

I got invited to do a Digimon 02 piece for a zine :) This was a fun one :)

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here's everyone's favourite boy looking good in aro colours!! i haven't drawn alphonse in a long time, so pardon the missed details and wacky proportions lmao. this was meant to be a speedpaint of sorts.

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Unicorn Gundam mid-transformation, now with pride flag colours!

Please feel free to use as icons, just don’t forget to credit me. I spent a lot of time on these lol ;v;

(Check this out for the original palette)

[zephyraster]

Unicorn Gundam mid-transformation. This is my first time drawing mecha in detail so do forgive me if I mess up some details, proportions etc ^^; 

(I made a version with pride flag colours, check them out here!)

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Possible origins of the golden triangle symbol from Transistor?

So I was watching a BBC documentary on the history of electricity. Apparently around WWII, scientists were looking for ways to amplify electric signals for use in radio communications. Bell Laboratories was the first to invent a device for this purpose--the transistor. It basically revolutionised modern electronics and became the foundation for many of the devices we use today.

Source: https://clintonwhitehouse4.archives.gov/Initiatives/Millennium/capsule/mayo.html

After a bit of googling, I found out that it was called the point-contact transistor! The inverted triangle was made of plastic, and it had two gold foils on opposing sides. It looks a lot different from the modern, more simplified transistor.

Source: http://ds-wordpress.haverford.edu/bitbybit/bit-by-bit-contents/chapter-eight/8-2-the-point-contact-transistor/

Nevertheless, it's fascinating how elements from both the point-contact and the modern transistor are referenced in the USB sword we all know and love, as well as throughout the world of Cloudbank.

I’m impressed by how subtle this tribute to history is. Well done, Supergiant.

[zephyraster]

A mecha/gundam take on Pyre’s demon. What I really enjoy from the game is that the character designs are simple yet bold, with unique silhouettes and all that cool stuff. So you have plenty to work with if you want to give it your own touch, but following the original design is just as satisfying.

In this case I was mostly inspired by Barbatos, with a bit of Zeta thrown in. The hardest part was figuring out how to retain the shape of the horns without straying too far from the Gundam feel, which I hope I managed to accomplish? Anyway, this was more of a proof-of-concept than a serious piece, so pardon the messy lineart and colours! Hope you enjoy ^^;

[zephyraster]

the duke, the gallant

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the demon, the captain

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hope i’m not too late, here’s a lil piece i did to celebrate pyre’s 1st (!!!!!) anniversary!! happy birthday to 2017′s game of the year in my heart

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Don’t know if you guys have seen this, but here’s the new key art for Pyre from Supergiant Games’ IG page. They have another version up on their Steam page too.

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"Human... It was nice to meet you. Goodbye."

My favourite scene in the game. Gave me chills, man.

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did a ghost trick style sprite thing. so excited for this game :D

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[zephyraster]

II.

Second semester’s vignettes.

RGB by a Monarch (This was inspired by a short story on Tumblr. Its prompt was "Describe the color red without using the word red." Also, I've run out of ideas and if you know me at all I can't resist writing prose HAHAHAHA. Sorry.) Red It is the colour that gleams in the dark as the wardens lie dead and my sword is stained. It is the colour creeping around the king's blue eyes when I help him out of his prison. It is the colour of his favourite tunic, not seen since his abduction many weeks ago. It is the colour I want to leave all over him. It is the colour of his cheeks when his gaze falls upon a bright young scholar, a new advisor in my court. It is the colour of my thoughts as my fingers twitch near my sword. Green It is the colour of the scholar's plain robes, and I have no idea what in her intrigues my husband so much he always seeks her company. It is the colour remaining on her complexion as she explains to me about her week-long sickness. It is the colour of her jade amulet, the same one I gifted to the king two decades ago. It is the colour of my private gardens when I warn her off and she so infuriatingly claims innocence. It is the colour gleaming in the vial I uncork, the vile liquid dripping into the wine cup. Blue It is the colour draped over the tables. It is the colour, cold on my face, as I watch the scholar. It is the colour of her shirt, and she offers her drink to my husband, my king. It is the colour of his lips as he falls. It is the colour of my guards' tabards when I break down and confess. It is the colour--the only one--in my cell for months. It is the colour of the bundle I see the scholar carrying. It is the colour of its eyes when she shows me the king's child. The Blade in Her Hands by Anonymous The temple was brightly lit by candles in iron holders. Arva made her way to the room where the sickly were housed. It was her shift as a temple healer, and it should be easy with everyone deep asleep at midnight. The door to the room opened to reveal one patient about to walk out. "I must leave." Arva didn't respond, for she was fixated on the scars on the patient's face. Her right eye was white, with a gash crossing downwards. Arva had seen her once, and wished she hadn't. She pulled out a dagger and pinned the patient against the wall, the blade against her throat. "I remember you... You killed my parents! I will never let go of a vile murderer like you!" The patient didn't reply, instead watching the other woman's hands with trained precision. "You're looking for a chance to escape," Arva continued. " Of course you are." The patient didn't reply. "Look at you now, pathetic and beaten up. That's what you get if all you care about is money. You'll strangle an infant if the pay's good." The patient looked away. "I need to go." "Why should I do a favour for someone who ruins innocent lives?" "I have a son." Arva blinked, then tightened her grip. It's a lie. She was sure she'd be struck and the patient would flee. It's a lie! "Hmph, I shouldn't keep using the same excuse," the patient said. "My son is why I took on the job, why I killed your parents. He was deathly ill. I finally had the money for a cure. He's..." Her jaw tightened. "I ask this not for my sake, but his. Will you also ruin an innocent life, stranger?" Arva could slit her throat now and get away with it. Vengeance... in self defence... The blade was in her hands. Yet it felt like a lump of lead, something to drop than to wield. The patient sighed. "I know I'm unworthy, and I won't hate you for whatever you do. But some will say my boy, as my kin, deserve the same, even though he's done nothing wrong. So I beg that once I'm dead, the temple will take him in and raise him." Arva threw her dagger and it clattered against the floor, ringing against the silent night. She lowered her hands. "Do not make me regret this." "I'm grateful for your kindness, but you do know I could be tricking you into freeing me?" "Was that a confession to a servant of the temple?" "No. This time it was a lie," she replied. The healer nodded. "Make sure your son's well." "Aye. So you forgive me?" "No." The patient's smile tugged at her scars. "Thank you."        

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I.

“Journal” entries for a college assignment. We could write anything, so I decided to take a stab at vignettes.

On the Return to One's Roots by Stella Antania Naiaxada I remember a Vintrii person who saved me from a werebear attack. She was a lean, muscular woman well in her forties, a seasoned mercenary with the dented armour and bloodied sabre to match. She sported face markings befitting a warrior, so I assumed she was a high-ranking member of her clan. My assumptions only served to betray my ignorance of Vintrii customs. As we headed towards a nearby inn for rest, I asked her about her job. "I'm a sellsword, but I'm trying to return to my village," she told me. "To my family." "Why don't you return now?" I asked. "The elders won't accept me, stranger. They see me as a sinner, indulgent in the vices of lust and gluttony." "They're wrong, aren't they?" She didn't reply. We entered the Frowning Falcon and I ordered a room for the two of us. I headed straight to bed, exhausted from today. SHe told the waiters to fetch her lamb steak with blue mushroom sauce, an exotic dish from Zenmarr. She did, in the end, go to bed, but not without the company of two young men. I promptly excused myself out of the room, and slept in another one instead. The next day, we departed for the south, towards Svalden. I was to meet with a noble for my project, and she wanted to look for work there. Unforunately, we were ambushed by bandits. She managed to defeat them all, but she was mortally wounded. "You must persevere! Remember, your family is waiting for you," I said. "The Vintrii remembers someone not for the way she lived, but the way she died." She coughed blood. "That, and life in heaven awaits me with endless feasts and virgins." Gone by Robin Whistler I can recall your voice that day we met, soothing like a harp. And the way you calmed that biker down, even after he tried to beat you up? I've been smitten with you ever since. Your eagerness, your kindness, your faith in me--they all drove me wild. I know it doesn’t mean anything now, but I’m grateful for even your tolerance of my presence. I was so bland and poor compared to you. I stuck out like a sore thumb at barbecue parties. We still got married, anyway. It didn't come without cost. I left my beloved family for the hectic crowds of the city. When your--I mean, our daughter was born, you gave up your dream job as a photographer to raise her. Then there came that scholarship offer from a foreign uni, sponsored by the factory I worked in. I want to say I accepted it because our house got robbed and I desperately needed the money from a well-paying job, but I don't want to lie to you. I'd been looking for an excuse to get away from the suffocating urban atmosphere. How many years did I spend abroad, I wonder? It doesn't matter anymore. It was a gamble that ended in shambles. I regret not visiting you more. It could’ve kept our relationship together, and I loathe myself for never considering that. Sometimes I wanted to tear the thesis I’d been working on, believing everything was all because of it, but I know it was my fault. Sure, I got my doctorate and I now design the computer components I used to assemble myself, but at what cost? The family I was trying to save in the first place... now crumbled to dust. For that and everything else, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry for being so selfish and careless. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and our daughter when you needed me the most. But I know sorry isn't enough--useless even. It’s too late. "The sun’s setting, Mother," Elizabeth said. "Are you okay?" She was taller than me--much taller than the last time we'd met. "I can finally visit your father's grave," I replied, fighting back my tears as I managed a smile. If only I’d been there when the car accident happened...  "I'm okay."