#okay i just dropped all my work in progress sketches
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teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 4
Summary:
wc: 1k+
A/N: um hii sorry for updating a lil late 😅 but I got really into writing this esp at the end. We're almost done! As always feel free to comment your thoughts and reactions, or send them to my inbox! Thanks for reading :)
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Song: It's Only a Paper Moon - Ella Fitzgerald (totally optional to listen while you read, if you like that sort of thing)
The small plastic bag carrying your lunch swung from your wrist as you pushed the door to the counselor’s office open.
"Thanks again for helping me organize around here," said the woman standing beside you.
"No problem, Ms. Keene!"
By the time you stepped inside, Miles was already sitting at the round table in the middle of the room.
The boy spoke first as soon as your eyes met.
"Hey," he greeted you flatly. His stare wasn't too far off from the look of curiosity you get from a stray cat that isn't certain whether you're trying to give it food or not; neither malicious nor particularly excited.
You tilted your head in surprise.
"Hey, you in trouble or something?"
Miles shook his head.
"Ms. Keene lets me have lunch in here."
"You two know each other?" The tall, dark-skinned woman asked. Though she had asked you both, she beamed at Miles as she spoke. He glanced back and forth between you and the woman.
"Kinda."
She clasped her manicured hands together.
"I'm glad you're starting to make friends again. That's progress. Enjoy your lunch," Ms. Keene said as she spun on her heel to leave, her short bob cut bouncing along with her.
"And put on those glasses!"
Miles rolled his eyes as the door shut with a click.
"Everybody's on your case about these glasses, dude. Just put 'em on," you said as you sat down next to him.
"Don't need 'em."
"Okay," you pointed to the analog clock hanging directly across from him, "tell me what time it is without using your phone."
He scoffed.
"Easy, it's…"
The boy stood, and squinted so hard that his nose scrunched. He heard you laughing through your nose behind him after a minute and soon dropped back down to his seat, hands raised in resignation.
"Alright, you got me. But who's looking at the damn clock all day?"
"Sitting in the back of the classroom with no glasses on is nuts, Miles. What's so bad about them?”
Miles pouted in indignation, "They make me look like Steve Urkel.”
“They can’t be that bad,” you said, grabbing the case from next to him and prying it open. “Lemme see.”
“Nope.”
“Just this once!”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Please?”
The boy sighed, then took the glasses from you with a wary expression. He looked at them like they were a moldy piece of bread before finally putting them on.
“Happy?”
Neon green color aside, the glasses were truly not that bad. The thick lenses framed his face and made him look younger. The boy blinked, awaiting your verdict.
“Awww, you look like a little nerd!”
“Don't start with that,” Miles shook his head, a grin spreading across his face in spite of himself. He swiped them off of his face and took the case from you.
“It’s not a bad thing,” you said over a bite of your sandwich, “you look cute in them.”
He froze, a hand instinctively flying up to scratch the nape of his neck before turning his gaze in the other direction. You could still see the impression of his dimples peeking out from the side.
“Don’t get a big head over it, now,” you elbowed him gently. He quickly changed the subject.
“I’m finna tell Ms. Keene that you’re distracting me.”
Miles was now hunched over his notebook again. He had his homework sheet covering one page, but you could tell he was sketching. When you tried to look over his shoulder, he frantically shut it closed.
“Can you not be nosy for five minutes?”
“My fault, bro, damn.”
Miles continued to draw quietly for almost the entirety of calculus, never once allowing you to peek at it. He didn’t pause until you lightly tapped his arm.
The boy flinched at the sudden contact, but you had his attention.
“I’m stuck on this problem you wrote, just this one. Help me out?”
He tapped his pen lightly on the desk in consideration. Finally, he shrugged, closing the notebook and sliding it to the side.
“Sure.”
You placed the worksheet between you and Miles, where your desks met.
“It’s this one. I’m not getting the solution you got,” you explained, placing a finger on the offending equation.
Miles peered closely at it. His braids nearly brushed the desk as his head moved.
“You gettin’ it wrong because you forgot to distribute here,” he pointed. “Everything has to distribute.”
You nodded as the gears in your head got to turning again. “Thanks.”
-
“Ma!” Miles whined as he took his plate of yellow rice and peas from the table.
“I’m just saying! La chica es muy linda, sigues mirándola. Don’t do anything crazy up there, understand?”
You were far from fluent, but the first bit of the brown woman’s sentence made a shy smile grace your features.
“This looks so good, thanks Mrs. Morales.” you said as you grabbed your own plate, carefully carrying it with both hands.
“No problem, baby,” the woman replied, gently smacking the back of her son’s head before sending you both upstairs. “Same time as usual.”
“Your mom’s nice,” you remarked once you entered Miles’ room.
“You just sayin’ that ‘cuz she gassed your head up,” Miles laughed.
“Whatever. I’m ‘bout to fuck this plate up!”
“Not on my bed, I hope.”
The boy gave you a warning glance.
“Relax, you see me sitting?”
You blew on a spoonful of rice before trying it, and the flavor nearly made your eyes pop out of your skull.
“Your momma went crazy in that kitchen.”
“M-hm,” was all Miles could reply as he shoveled the rice into his mouth, already halfway through the plate.
Soon both of your plates had been scraped clean, and you started working after taking the dirty dishes downstairs to wash. All three calculus problems had been completed, but a small squabble broke out over the appearance of the slideshow that Miles had put together.
“It looks so boring,” you complained. “At least make the background a different color–”
“Uh-unh, you gon’ make it hard as fuck to read. I say we keep it simple,” the boy swatted your hand away from the keyboard.
“Make the title dark magenta, and you got a deal.”
He sighed, “Fine. It’s legible, I guess.”
It was still only 7:30 by the time the project was finished, and you didn’t feel like leaving behind the warmth of Miles’ home just yet.
“Can you play some music?”
Miles spun around in his swivel chair.
“What kind?”
“I dunno, whatever you listen to,” you tilted your head at him quizzically. “What do you listen to?”
“Um,” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small Bluetooth speaker, setting it on his desk. “Just…whatever I feel like. Lots of stuff.”
He carefully laid down on his bed next to you, making sure to maintain at least a few inches of distance.
Old jazz music began to float through the air.
“You like Ella?”
“Yeah,” he said at a near-whisper. “...I do now. Forgot what this song was called.”
“‘It’s Only A Paper Moon,’” you answered. “From ‘The War Years’. Beautiful record.”
Miles snuck a glance at the side of your face while you stared up at the ceiling. He liked the dreamy, far-off way you’d said the title.
“You sound old as fuck right now,” he commented. “Record…”
This made you burst into laughter, and Miles decided that he didn’t mind that sound, either.
“My momma always calls ‘em ‘records’, so I picked up the habit.”
“I like how you talk.”
You finally turned your head and met the boy’s eyes. The small grin playing on his face wasn’t a teasing one.
“‘How I talk?’”
“When you’re not grilling me with questions like a cop? Yeah, it’s nice.”
Not sure what to do with this new information, you turn your gaze back up to the ceiling.
“You’re a strange one, Miles,” was all you could say.
There was a brief pause before you asked,“What did you mean by ‘now’?”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “What’d I say about complete sentences?”
“Sorry,” you rolled your eyes. “You said you liked this song now, you didn’t like it before?”
He was silent for a good, long, ten seconds before answering.
“I used to not be super into jazz. Dad used to play that shit on the radio, driving me to school. I hated having to hear it the entire ride,” he laughed. “I know he’s somewhere making fun of my ass now.”
You hummed in acknowledgement, wondering if you should offer comforting words, or your condolences. Knowing Miles – at least a little – you decided against it.
“I used to listen to Ella songs when the house got too loud, or while I was eating lunch.”
“They let you listen to music down there?”
“Nah, I was eating upstairs with the English teacher after she saw me sitting by myself.”
“You still sit by yourself?”
Shaking your head, you answered, “I usually sit with Tianna, she’s usually my calc partner. This week’s kind of an exception.”
“So if it wasn’t for her, I woulda finished this shit three days ago,” he joked.
You placed your hand over your heart and gasped dramatically. “You mean you don’t enjoy being graced by my presence?”
“Hm,” Miles conceded, “I enjoy it a little.”
“Is this your way of saying we besties now?”
“Whoah, never mind. You killed the moment.”
“That was a moment?”
“Nope, forget everything I just said.”
-
Fun trivia since we're almost at the end: what book do you think Miles and the MC are reading in English class? There's no prize for answering but i'll be really excited about it. Thanks again for reading!
Taglist:
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#earth 42 miles morales#miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader#miles morales x reader#moralesanhour
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Don't Speak 22
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)
Character: librarian!Andy Barber
Note: So Tuesday was a mess.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
Love you all. Take care. 💖
Dr. Kemp leans forward, elbows on his knees as he watches you. Patient, intent, he listens without distraction to every word you say. His attention is almost eerie but only because you’re not used to it. He hangs off of every word.
“I don’t hate Amber,” you frown and hug your legs, only then realising how small you’ve made yourself in the chair, “I love her… I just don’t know if she ever loved me.”
He nods and sits up, dragging his fingers down his chin as he props an elbow on the armrest. He presses his finger against his mouth as he hums thoughtfully. He drops his hand and smiles.
“Are you worried about if she loves you or… are you afraid that you don’t deserve her love? Or anyone’s?” He prompts gently.
You bit down on your tongue. You lower your chin as you think. Your heart plummets deep as your skin tingles hotly.
“Both,” you admit.
“It’s like I said, sweetheart, you have to love yourself first. Then you will see how others can love you,” he drapes one leg over the other, “but we should unpack your relationship with your sister a bit further. We can’t do all that today, but we can start.”
You nod and cup your chin. You make yourself sit up and look at him. You push your feet over the edge and straighten your back.
“Codependency. It’s very toxic. Amber has her flaws, as we all do. What you’ve pointed out about her isn’t out of the question but I don’t know her, I can’t diagnose her. But I can help you draw boundaries and make sense of things,” he explains, “you feel that you were a burden, that you were entirely helpless without her. Did you ever consider she felt the same way? That she attached herself to you because otherwise, she felt useless.”
You look above him and examine the curtain. That’s easier than looking him in the face. You put your hands in your lap and wring them tightly. No, you never thought of it that way because that can’t be true.
“Why… why would she feel like that? I give her nothing. I’m…”
“Now, let’s stop right there,” he raises a thick finger, “what did I say about talking about yourself? Be kind.”
“Yes, Doctor,” you murmur, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, you owe yourself one.”
You bow your head guiltily. The more you talk to him, the more aware you are of all your bad habits. Isn’t this supposed to help you feel better? Not feel worse?
“It’s work, it hurts and then it feels good,” he says, “but the important thing is that you keep going. You keep the progress up, even if some days we don’t take a step forward, he have to keep looking ahead.” He lowers his hand over the end of the armrest, “I think this week you should write about Amber, try to get your thoughts out. Along with your other homework which is…”
You blink at him and give a dumb look. He smiles, “be nice to you. I want you to write down everything you do all week to that end. Baths, moisturising, reading a book, sketching something, anything that makes you happy.”
“Okay,” you grip your knees, slowly trailing your hands up to tug down the pleats of your skirt. You’re not used to it, you almost forgot you were wearing the thing, “I’ll try.”
“You’ll do great,” he encourages, “you already have done so much.”
🕊️
You're exhausted after the session. Almost despondent on the drive to Andy's as everything Steve said swirls in your mind. A thousand thoughts to add to your already overcrowded head.
"Honey," Andy's voice cuts through your trance, "are you okay?"
"Uh, I'm sorry," you say, stunned to find the car parked in front of his house, his eyes boring into you with concern, "yeah, I'm fine."
"Oh, you haven't said a word," he slides the keys free of the ignition, "and you weren't responding."
"No, no, it's... I was thinking."
"Ah," he nods, hesitating to get out of the car as he hovers his hand against the door, "about... did Steve say something?"
"Um, just about stuff," you reply evasively, "nothing big."
"Well, you now I'm always here for you, right? That you can talk to me too?"
You nod and fake a smile. He's nice and all but you can't tell him everything. You can't even tell Steve everything you put in your journal. Somethings are meant just for you.
"I know," you murmur, "is it alright if I lay down for a bit. I'm really tired out."
"Sure you can, dove," he reaches over you caress the crease of your skirt, "just for a little. You don't want to waste the day."
"I won't," you promise and pull the handle on your door.
You turn and hide your face from him. He's right but it still irks you. Sometimes he can be so bossy. You've done what he wants. You're doing the therapy, so why can't you have one day to just burrow away.
🕊️
You spend your time alone staring at the ceiling, all tied up with Andy’s suggestion. Don’t sleep the day away. Sigh, now you can’t even close your eyes. You’re too worried about doing just that.
After a few hours, you give up, hoping to find some solace in a cup of tea. You can pop out and assure Andy that you’re awake. Maybe you should work on the painting. He must be getting impatient for that as well.
You pull on a loose wooly cardigan, the one with the patch sewn into it, and hide your clingy t-shirt beneath it. You come downstairs and pass the archway of the living room. The TV is lit up with the menu but Andy’s nowhere to be found.
You hear him. You go further down and peek into the kitchen. Something tinkles against porcelain as you watch him pour the contents of a bag into a bowl. There are several set out already, on a neat wooden tray with two glass bottles of soda.
“Um…” you step into the doorway. “I… was going to put the kettle on.”
He looks over at you and smiles. It’s only then you notice his clothing. A pair of thin plaid pajamas and a navy blue sweatshirt. He looks cozy. You’re not used to that. He’s all buttoned-up and tidy.
“Oh, sure,” he says, “I can get some tea out… but er,” he sets the bowl with the rest, “you kinda walked in on my surprise.”
“Surprise?” You wonder.
“Yeah, uh, I was thinking we could do a movie night. Your choice,” he presses closed the seal of the M&Ms bag and puts it at the back of the counter. “I got all these snacks and some soda if you like, but if you want tea instead–”
“Oh,” you bat your lashes.
“Oh?” He sounds nervous as he echoes your syllable.
“I… I wasn’t expecting this. I…” you fold your arms over your stomach, “you really… did all this?”
You tiptoe forward and raise your chin to see onto the tray. He grins proudly as you near and see the assortment of snacks; trail mix, chips, gummies, chocolate…
“Pretty simple but I figured maybe it would be fun.”
You suck your lower lip in and look up at him. His eyes are shining, almost hopeful. He did all this for you. He actually wants to spend time with you. He was even excited about it.
“It’s wonderful,” you say, “I hope… I hope you don’t think I’m ungrateful. Only surprised.”
“Of course, honey,” he slides the tray off the counter, “let me get this.”
He carries the spread across the kitchen and you trail him into the front room. You linger at the threshold as he sets down the snacks on the low coffee table. The room smells of raspberry. You hum at the scent and notice the candle already lit on the table. The lights are dim as the flame lends a flicker to the space.
“Like it?” Andy looks up at your audible sniff.
“Smells nice,” you assure him.
“Well? You gonna just stand there or find something to watch?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” you scurry over as he holds out the remote.
You sit on the couch and he drops down beside you. As you sit forward, he leans back, his arm stretched out behind you carelessly. You flick through the title cards of all the movies, intimidated by the endless selection.
“What kind of movies do you like?” You ask, almost embarrassed to choose one yourself.
“Whatever you like, dove,” he says.
It feels like the back of your shirt is moving, just along the bottom. The sensation is so light and you’re too nervous to look at Andy. You put your elbow on your knee and cup your chin. You guess it doesn’t really matter. You choose a title your recognise, not recalling what the movie is about.
“Don’t forget to dig in,” Andy sits up.
“Er, okay,” you put the remote down and take the bottle of soda. You read the label in the low light. It looks fancy. You try to twist the metal cap off but it threatens to cut into your hand. “Ow.”
“Here,” Andy reaches over, “let me.”
He grips the neck and pops off the metal lid with ease. He hands it back to you and takes his own. You thank him under your breath and hover your mouth over the top. You take a sip, the bubbles tickling your nose.
“Mmm,” you hide a cough at the carbonation, “ooh, pretzels.”
You reach for one of the twisted treats. He chuckles as the credits play and he takes a rippled chip. You bite into a pretzel and focus on the screen. He’s sitting so close. You glance over, there’s lots of couch free.
You nibble nervously as the opening scene plays. You focus on the dialogue, not quite picking up on everything. The movie’s much more serious than you expected. You finish a handful of the dry food and wash it down with soda before flopping back.
You squint at the screen and try to untangle the furling plot. It’s kind of boring. You hide a yawn in your cuff and keep your hand to your mouth. The scene shifts and suddenly a bed frame rocks, knocking against the wall as the camera pans down to reveal the two bodies writhing on the mattress.
Oh my! There’s always one of these scenes.
You fight not to close your eyes. You’re mortified as you stare wide-eyed, the room hotly silent except for the activity on screen. You can hear Andy’s breaths and your own. His foot moves as he adjusts his leg and you flinch, almost expecting him to move closer. No, why would he do that?
The scene finally ends. That was torture. Amber always lets you fast forward through those ones. You lean forward to hide your discomfort with another swig of soda. Andy clears his throat but doesn’t comment.
You munch on a mixture of sweet and salty, your stomach squirming. You’re just going to make yourself sick. You recline again, eyes burning and itchy as they threaten to close. No, you don’t want to upset Andy. You can’t fall asleep.
The man and woman argue in the street. You don’t know who would ever do that. Those sorts of conversations are better behind closed doors. You don’t really get relationships; they seem confusing and stressful.
You arch your back, stretching out a kink in your side and a snort from beside you makes you flinch. You don’t look over, not until it comes again. Andy’s shadow sits with its head back, nose to the ceiling as he snores. Oh no, he fell asleep first!
You’re almost happy it’s him. You were so afraid of doing so, fearing at how he might react. You just think it’s funny. This movie really is boring.
You giggle and call his name. He doesn’t react. You call again, “wake up.”
Still nothing. You chew your lip and raise a shaky hand. You touch his arm, poking him with two fingers. You repeat his name. He’s now waking up. You nudge him hard and he slips, first one way then back towards you. Before you can react, he folds over onto your lap.
His weight hits your legs and you squeak. You don’t think as you grab onto his shoulder and try to shake him. He’s so heavy! And big. The difference between you is obvious but even more in that moment. He is immovable, like a boulder crushing you.
“Andy,” you say, “please, wake up.”
He bends his arm and grips your knee, nestling in as he snorts deeper. He must be exhausted. He drove you all the way to therapy and then got all these snacks together for movie night. And now, he can’t even enjoy it. All for you. All his effort spoiled because of you.
You deflate and sink back into the cushions. You kick your legs and try to wiggle free of him. You can’t seem to get out. You surrender and look at the screen. You guess you’ll finish this darn movie.
#fic#don't speak#andy barber#dark andy barber#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#dark fic#dark!fic#au#library au#defending jacob#series
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Bestiaryposting: Holghras Results
Now for what everyone -- or at least a certain percentage -- has been waiting for: the results for the Holghras! Anyone who found that sentence confusing can catch up by checking this page: https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting .
This time around, they should all fit into one post, as the response was a little smaller. I see how it is: everyone wants to draw Spooky Corpse-Eater With Magic, but nobody wants to draw Horny Bird With Problems.
I kid, of course. The Wutugald had some pretty clear visual elements that people could hook onto, but the Holghras entry is mostly about its behavior and doesn't give much information on what it looks like beyond "it's a bird". So it's pretty clear why people might have a harder time drawing artistic inspiration from that one. (And I really and truly appreciate those of you who took a crack at it anyway.) The level of physical description is going to vary a lot entry to entry, I'm afraid -- to some extent I think it's about whether it's an animal the reader is expected to be familiar with, but there are definitely a few detailed visual descriptions of animals most medieval Europeans would have seen because the author wants to do some symbolism. So it's a toss-up. Anyway, here's the link to the description people are working from:
And the results, again roughly in order of appearance. If yours isn't here, let me know -- I saw one post that said something about Tumblr eating their original attempt, presumably out of Bird Homophobia. I'm happy to reblog any that I missed due to Tumblr's functionality.
@bruncikara (link to post here) gives us our first interpretation. I really enjoy the medieval bestiary style, including the use of the Generic Medieval Plant that always reminds me of mutant asparagus. I think the border is designed to evoke the thorns in which the Holghras nests, which I also appreciate. The bird's pose, flat on its back with its neck curved up, is great, and it's shown performing its signature Hide With Dirt move. I think at least some of the inspiration comes from quails here, judging by the head... feather... thing... [Wikipedia break] ... okay, apparently it's just called a "plume", which I should have guessed. This is the first example of the common (and correct!) assumption that the Holghras is a member of the order Galliformes.
@jamiethekeener (link to post here) gives us this one, also posing with its signature dirt clods. I'm reminded of a cardinal, personally. The artist provides a brief comment on their design, noting that they are not a bird expert. I think this is a pretty cute juvenile bird, and the way it holds the dirt comes off as kind of playful.
@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has produced another very naturalistic drawing, which (in my non-expert opinion) manages to look very much like a real bird without specifically looking like any bird in particular. They apparently do know birds, because they specifically name-drop Galliformes in their description of their design decisions. I like the decision to also include one of the bird's Signature Behaviors, i.e., the mother carrying her chicks.
@pomrania (link to post here) has given their Holghras a selection of striking features, which they explain in their post. There's a lot in that post, actually, and I really enjoyed reading the whole journey of this particular drawing. You should go read it too -- the post linked above also provides a draft version, a link to a series of progress sketches, and a link to an explanation of their design choices that includes rumination on how to make a bird look "slutty". Go check it out, we'll be here when you get back.
@sweetlyfez (link to post here) describes her design choices briefly, indicating that her goal was to pick Bird Attributes that could look unsettling in combination and suggest that the bird depicted has a "terrible sex life". Mission accomplished, I think -- that bird does not look trustworthy. Also now we know that thing on its head is just called a plume, so good for us. I really like the effect the -- watercolor? I think? I don't know art -- provides, and that seagull-esque spot on its beak really is a great touch.
@rautavaara (link to post here) has done another beautifully stylized drawing with a very pleasant color scheme. They provide a brief explanation of their design decisions in the linked post. I'm particularly struck by the fact that this version of the Holghras apparently carries its young in the same way that the folkloric version of the stork carries babies: in some kind of cloth wrapping held in the beak. I also like that the chick's feet are sticking out.
@mobileleprechaun (link to post here) apparently had some trouble posting this, but I'm glad they got it through, because it's delightful. I like the little bird on the right with its feet sticking straight up, and the other one under its mother's wing/arm. When I first saw this, I was briefly puzzled why the drawing contrasted male and female birds, because they looked quite similar -- then I noticed the tailfeathers -- then I looked more closely at the male's tailfeathers and cracked up a little bit. The linked post provides a brief explanation of the design decisions, including why the wings look so much like arms. It also has a couple tags that I find funny.
@karthara (link to post here) provides this excellent image as well as a brief explanation of their design choices. I love the over-the-top tailfeathers on the extremely-sexy purple male Holghrases, and the babies dangling from under the female's wing, and the fact that the clod of dirt being held up by the juvenile is at least as big as the bird holding it. Also, those ridiculous tailfeathers are apparently inspired by the Onagadori rooster, which means we're back with the Galliformes.
@embervoices (link to post here) did this adorable drawing of the juvenile Holghras. I particularly like that she's taken a different route than having it just hold up the dirt: this one apparently has a little hidey-hole like a trapdoor spider. This is just very cute all around, I like it.
@cheapsweets (link to post here) provides this excellent and action-packed depiction, along with a wonderfully detailed explanation of their design decisions. (I love reading those.) From their post, it's clear that they also know more about birds than I do, and also name-check the Galliformes as the most likely category. Apparently the bird-people of Tumblr have this critter's number. Also, that is a masterful depiction of a bird running off with an egg, I have to say.
@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has done another medieval-styled rendition, which I really enjoy. This is also, I believe, the first appearance of a human in any of these drawings. (Well. Live human, at least.) I enjoy the depiction of the female bird doing her fake limp to lead the human away from her nest while the males engage in their weird drama up in the right. They provide an explanation of their design choices and inspiration in the linked post.
@scarlettbookworm (link to post here) has given us a drawing that showcases several of the odd behaviors described in the entry. The linked post also provides a description of their design process and an explanation of their decisions. I think this is another very cute picture of a bird holding up dirt, and I enjoy the one at the top shouting "HOLGHRAS!" The egg-stealer over in the bottom right is very good also.
@moustawott (link to post here) has drawn this very vulture-like Holghras in what I have to say is a very well-done bushy area. I had to look twice to realize the background was actually cleverly-arranged splashes and blobs of color that strongly suggest that we're in a bush. Very good art, love the style, and that fuzzy baby Holghras is cute as hell. The linked post provides an explanation of the design decisions.
@strixcattus (link to post here) gives us this rendition of the Holghras, which they describe as being inspired by a prairie chicken and a potoo. Prairie chickens are, of course... Galliformes. Another tally mark in that column. I'm particularly delighted by the giant mouth on the chick in the bottom right. As they did last time, the artist has provided a detailed modern-naturalist interpretation of the animal, which is of course in the linked post. I recommend checking that out; maybe it's just because I'm the kind of huge nerd that I am, but I think these are great.
@treesurface (link to post here) gives us a Holghras that they describe as a cross between a bird of prey and a bird of paradise, which I think is a pretty good idea that fits both the aggressive behavior and the mating behavior described in the entry. I enjoy the fact that multiple artists have decided this bird Likes Big Tailfeathers (and it does lie, but about different things).
@ashfly (link to post here) gives us this picture of a juvenile Holghras holding up its clump of dirt. They also indicate that they have an idea of what it is, which I really hope they'll share now that it's posted and the bird's out of the bag, because I was 100% certain nobody would guess this one. The fuzzy bird is cute, of course, and the rainbow legs are really striking. (Pride legs, perhaps?) I also like that it's clearly looking over at the "camera" to see if we're buying it.
And finally, the official medieval depiction:
... hm. Yeah, some absolute bastard apparently cut out a bunch of the miniatures in this manuscript at one point. Luckily, we have the Ashmole Bestiary over at the Bodleian Library, which is extremely similar, so we can get an idea of the image that was here:
And also, this entry in the Aberdeen Bestiary comes with two images. Here's the other one:
I'm going to assume the choice of coloration was up to the individual artist and the missing Aberdeen illustration was also brown, because the Ashmole version of the egg-stealer also has the more colorful pattern:
Anyway, in case you haven't recognized it from these helpful and very accurate images, this is the partridge. Now you know what's going on in those pear trees.
I don't actually have anything else to add about that. I was frankly a little surprised there was even an entry for "partridge".
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State of Affairs: oh, it's not good. Bad, in fact!
listening music (lol)
Greetings, all! I apologize for not much communication, art or comics this month, but things were a bit out of my control! I'll cut right to the point: I had a big oopsie at the start of May, and the situation overall has not gotten much better since then.
Here's the scoop as plain as I can explain it: I dropped my external hard drive, and it no longer connected to my computer. My computer has a very tiny amount of memory (the OS capacity is less than 120GB), so I have used an external hard drive as the brain of my computer for years now. I have no back-ups either on another hard drive, older computer, or cloud service.
This external hard drive housed everything I have created and brought with me between computers since 2013. It stored all my art. All of it. My comic pages, my working files, my works-in-progress, my commission pieces, as well as gifts from friends and other artists. It had all the sessions of my at-home tabletop game 'Blueshift', which is a pretty big hit for me as I had only just finished the game. I didn't even have time to be happy the game was finished until I had to mourn a loss of it I had not anticipated.
I sent the hard drive to a data recovery company with good reviews. It had nearly 2TB of data on it, and I tried very hard not to get my hopes up that they'd be able to retrieve most of my data. Despite this, I still was disappointed by what they sent back.
To be blunt: they did not retrieve most of my data. In fact, I'd say in total they only recovered about 40%, if I am being generous. They were unable to recover any of my in-development projects (A Cure for Athanasia, Super Manifest: Steward Cycle, The Tenth, The Sword of Hours, etc), and unfortunately BACKLASH didn't make it out unscathed either. Old art files that I one day wanted to make Prints off have been lost, as well as small doodles and secret sketches which never made it online.
While reviewing the files that they managed to recover, I also noticed that whole chunks of BACKLASH's working page files have been lost or corrupted. This isn't a huge setback for the comic itself since all of BACKLASH is online to read. But it is hard and heartbreaking for me, because despite everything I did one day want to make a printed edition of BACKLASH. I wanted to hold my comic in my hands.
That dream is not impossible, but it is now much further away. I can recreate my old pages with what I currently have, but it will be a lot of extra work, and there is no getting around that.
Losing this much of my history, artistic journey, relationships and formative time as an artist has been really hard on me, emotionally and mentally. I'm very sad. It's hard to draw right now for myself. Commission work comes easily, since I am given a prompt to draw for someone else, but creative ideas are not flowing for me at the moment. My hands are frozen and dejected.
I am now waiting to get back the files that the data recovery people managed to retrieve for me (probably by tomorrow, they said), and I am looking into other places in order to get a second opinion of sorts. At this point there really is no harm in trying, and maybe a different operation might have better luck. Who knows? It may be grasping at straws, but at this point things can't get any worse than this.
When I get my data back I'll be able to finish up BACKLASH chapter 7. I want to finish it off - there are not very many pages left, and miraculously the few remaining pages are among the ones that were recovered! So that's good. I will be finishing up the chapter, and afterward BACKLASH will be taking a bit of a break. I don't know how long the hiatus will last, and I won't be making any kind of estimate. It'll take as long as I need until I feel I can put one foot in front of the other again. Maybe I'll work on something else for a while, maybe I won't draw anything. Who knows! I don't, haha.
Eventually I'll be okay, and I'll get back on the horse. Even in the midst of all this turmoil I really just want to be making comics ;_;
Until then, I just need some time. It's the only cure for this kind of problem, I think. So, I thank you for your patience, and I thank you for the love you've shown me, my work, and my characters. I couldn't be where I am and I couldn't have made all the work I have without your support and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!
I'll see you when I get back! Much love and many kisses, xoxo 💖💖💖
(cross-posted from patreon)
#state of affairs#not art#long post#UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGH#RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGHHH#BRR:URUUURHHHGHGUURHHGNNGH#HRNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG#UGH.#i didn't really proofread this so if it's bad or rambly sorry but also ughghhghhsklgajdl;kgLKSgjlsdgjdlkj
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WELCOME!
WHAT IS ‘WHAT COULD BE WORTH ETERNITY,?
What Could Be Worth Eternity?, or wcbwe for short, is an art/storytelling project of mine! I currently have a comic (very early stage) in-the-works, as well as some writing and other art pieces. In short, wcbwe is what I call the original universe that holds a number of stories and characters I want to share!
OH, SO THIS BLOG IS FOR THAT COMIC?
………not exactly, unfortunately. The comic is still very early in its production, and as the only person working on it, progress is slow going. I think taking the extra time will be worth it in the end, but I’m biased lol. As it stands, this blog is not specifically for the comic in the works, but when I am ready to start posting pages, this is where it’ll happen!
…ALRIGHT. THEN WHAT IS THE POINT OF THIS BLOG? WHY THE COUNTDOWN, IF THE BIG PROJECT ISN’T GOING TO BE READY FOR A WHILE?
Wait, countdown? For anyone who doesn’t know, for about two months, I was doing a… daily, countdown on my main blog, and it ended today, 2023.08.28, the day this blog goes up.
To be honest – the countdown wasn’t for this. In fact I’m writing out this lil intro post the day it’s supposed to go up while at work haha! I am incredibly unprepared. The countdown was to something at work (that never ended up happening, to my knowledge), I think we were supposed to do some sort of… media blackout? Like I said, it didn’t happen, so it doesn’t really matter. But, well, a couple of my moots saw the countdown and got curious, and I thought ‘well I should do something on tumblr, too!’. So here we are. Art blog! Yup, this is an art (and sometimes writing) blog centered around the wcbwe universe. Right now the plan is to update every Monday, but that’s subject to change because I have no clue what my uni schedule is yet XD
YEAH YEAH COOL. GO BACK TO THAT COMIC FOR A MINUTE?
Ah yes. The comic. My pride and joy, should I actually manage to stick with the project. Like I said, it’s still very early in its production; only the prologue and first chapter have been scripted, and only half the prologue has been storyboarded. And it’s going to be a very long comic, so that’s not a lot. I’d prefer to have the whole thing, or almost the whole thing, storyboarded before I start making pages. If you want an estimate? I’d say it’ll be about a year or more before I can start posting pages.
OKAY, SO IF YOU WEREN’T PREPARED TO START THIS BLOG, WHY DO IT?
Well, there’s no time like the present! I need somewhere to organize my thoughts and concepts for the universe, story, and characters, and I’m hoping having a dedicated blog might motivate me to sort out my ideas haha.
*INSERT FANCY LIL PROGRESS BAR HERE*
Wow! What was the progress again? Not to worry! I’ll keep the progress updated here :]
scripted up to chapter 4
21/? pages storyboarded
0/? pages completed
IF THIS IS AN ART BLOG, WHAT KIND OF ART WILL YOU BE POSTING?
In short, anything wcbwe related! Digital art, traditional art, short writing things, animations, concept art, storyboard sketches, etc. etc. Anything I make that has to do with the wcbwe universe will end up on here eventually! Not all of it will be Quality Art TM lol
ALRIGHT, BUT WHAT’S THE STORY ABOUT?
I don’t want to get too into spoilers, especially since I don’t have most of the plot ironed out yet. Up until the comic’s production is further along, the main focus here will be on worldbuilding and designs. With that said – you might be able to put together pieces of the plot with the art provided! I’ve got a couple big pieces coming up that have some kinda major spoilers. I just don’t want to actually talk about the plot things until I know what I’m doing. With that in mind, some art might end up getting retconned in the final production. Though, there’ll be a liiiiiiiitle plot sneak peak at the end of this post. Very small :p (it comes with art!)
ASKS ARE WELCOME!
Idk haha, if you’ve got anything to say, or any questions, drop an ask! It might take me some time to answer or I might want to save it for whatever reason, but I’ll answer eventually! Oh – asks are exempt from the Monday Updates btw! I’ll answer them whenever I answer them :3
…oh yeah I should probably mention. C a t s. (also tags are in the. tags-)
Without further ado – welcome to What Could Be Worth Eternity? Let’s dive in.
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Arceli dies.
And then she doesn’t.
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I'd love to hear more about Connie's trauma! The attention you give her character through the parallels between her and Steven always resonated with me.
Ohohoh yasss I really do wanna get back to this one…
This one-shot examines like… the whole thing with Connie being largely absent from Beach City and active Gem nonsense in the beginning of Steven Universe Future, and attempts to give an potential explanation as to why.
Like I guess personally, it just always seemed a bit strange to me that she made such a sharp pivot from actively desiring to be a close participant in Gem matters on Earth, to… seemingly not? She even specifies to Steven in Together Forever that her interest in politics is more for “down to earth” reasons, when he asks if her experiences with intergalactic diplomacy got her on that train. So my brain kinda was just… okay, what changed? And my current thought is that… after the deeply, DEEPLY upsetting experience she went through in White’s head… she realized she needed to take some time to step away for her own wellbeing. And I think it took some time for her to figure out even that much- some time, and some long discussions with her own therapist. Thus, set post movie, I have a scene with her and Pearl cooking away in my brain. It’s only a starting sketch, but it’s eventually gonna tackle like… the residual trauma Connie still has about Pearl restraining her when she was controlled by White.
Snippit:
_
“All right! Wonderful hustle, as always!” Pearl says, her holo-Pearls dissipating into glittering light at her command. “Now—“ she summons a material sword from within her gem-space, posture falling into a ready stance— “your final opponent today will be me. You’ve made great strides with those new defensive maneuvers I’ve taught you, so let’s concentrate on refining our footwork this time, shall we?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Connie exclaims with a snappy salute, and refocuses her attention on the precise rhythm and form of her steps as— with a mighty shout— she glides across the training grounds towards her teacher, sword in hand.
Stance wide, she reminds herself. Body lowered. Let your toes point the way.
Ever the in-sync mentor, Pearl follows her lead. She’s clearly not playing it easy this afternoon. To be fair she rarely does, but there’s this extra wild glint of tenacity whirling in her eyes that alerts her to the fact that she’ll have to dig for every last strategical advantage to win this one. When she raises her blade to attempt her first strike, the Gem effortlessly dances around it. She counters with a swift overhead assault, which Connie blocks with the flat of her weapon.
If she were practicing against the holo-Pearls, her teacher would’ve interrupted the moment to shout an eager word of praise, but not this time. Not in their recent one-on-ones.
Not when some stray Era 3 dissenter could drop right onto their doorstep at any second and destroy all the progress the Crystal Gems have worked so hard to achieve.
It’s unfortunate— ever since the injector incident a few weeks ago, the usually bright and upbeat atmosphere at Steven’s house has grown… uncomfortably tense. Most of the bio-poison’s damage has been mitigated by this point, with Beach City residents aiding in physical clean-up and Steven using his powers to heal the ecological impacts, but there’s been a clear shift in the tides for her friends. She can feel it radiating in her very bones. Before Spinel, the Crystal Gems seemed content to hang up their weapons and enjoy the peaceful bounty and simple joys this new era promised. Though she still trained with Pearl during that period, those spars resembled more of a casual workout than any real battle simulation.
But now… even though they try not to show it… Connie can tell her friends have been re-traumatized. Recent events have simply sucked them right back into the barbed thickets of the war they never truly escaped. It’s not a physical battlefield this time, thank goodness… more a battlefield of the mind… but in her opinion its impacts are one and the same, even for Gems.
All the endless perils that shaped the trajectory of their pasts… they’ll always in some small part be there to haunt them.
Connie, of course, is no exception to this rule.
#jen rambles#still doing these! Feel free to scroll back on my blog to the list of wips to ask about one#wips
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My 2023 art summary.
Here's my written rambling thoughts of last year's progress:
(spoilers: It's long)
In 2022 I posted about 37 art pieces, I wished I could've beat that record in 2023 but it ended up being about 30 art pieces including sketches. There are reasons for my slow output.
A major one being I was focusing on finishing my vocational college which I succeed.
The second reason is wanting to continue improving. I feel like each time make something it comes out better than the last one. I don't think that's true for all art pieces I made this year, obviously some are better than others in terms of quality. But I don't think I've ever had a moment were I thought (of a finished piece) to have gotten "worse" compared to previous pieces. I'm glad that I can still keep this positive mindset with me.
Of course I couldn't improve that fast without the help on one good friend who helped me each time I got stuck. On one part it's amazing to have someone that's willing to help me even if it might be over done, but on the other hand I'm still trying to be more self reliant which atm I'm getting better at getting out of those situations myself. But occasionally there's nothing wrong to ask for a bit of help.
Last reason was I got lost in what my goals were.
This art blog started in February 2018, making it almost 6 years now. It started as being a motivational drive to work on art more (since it's been a long hobby of mine) and get better just like the other online artist I admire. Maybe dreaming if I ever got up there with the other I could earn money with doing what I loved. Of course that is still far out of my reach. Account growth has been pathetically slow in comparison to how we see others.
But I feel like I have the right to complain of such thing. I know my faults, I'm not really consistent in what I draw and this year felt even more inconsistent. I don't keep up with trends or draw them cus in the end if I look back at them I would only feel shallow, cus it was obviously made to gather (potential) numbers and not be something I really wanted to do.
I see other artist that draw way better than me and also under perform when it comes to notes/followers. So maybe it's a bit selfish to complain of such things. But going into the "screw those internet numbers" sort of lead me to ask "okay but why should I keep up? Why not go back drawing whatever and not bother posting it online?" and it goes on and on spiraling down. I questioned if this careless attitude is where I should really be going.
That said internet numbers don't really affect me. It's not the end of the world if the fan art doesn't do good numbers. I already tried what I could to improve the number rate and going down this internet rabbit hole of how to get bigger numbers makes it all sound paranoiac (especially on Twitter).
But overall 2023 made small achievements. Got at least 2 commissions, one art piece made it into the front page of Newgrounds, some artists I look up to followed me back, posts have gotten in general more attention than last year and the overall quality of my art has improved. It's not much but still small steps in achieving my goals.
It's been a good year for me. I'll continue to draw till I drop dead. I'll continue to work on improving my art. I'll continue to explore new ideas even if they're small. I'll draw in different mediums, even if it doesn't help my consistency issues. That's just who I am.
I don't expect many to read this but if you did, thank you for reading.
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WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS
𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑 || 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝙽𝚊𝙽𝚘
y'all i am so busy rn that i forgot to keep yous updated on my progress. moving forward i am going to try and be more present here, i am going to work my way through my backlog of tag games this weekend and queue up all the writing yous tagged me in.
this month is camp nano and it has kept my mighty busy. here is a list of things that has happened this month:
finished the prologue and chapters 1-10. i got them up for betas to read (if you'd like to beta for CMI, the form is still open to apply here)
got in contact with an artist and started the process of commissioning them for a cover (they just sent me the concept sketch and im!!!!!)
set an official publication date (announcement coming soon 👀👀👀)
submitted a query! (and realized that i don't want to trad pub so i'm self pubbing instead!)
started talking to formatting editors. i'm not sure if i'll be able to afford a good formatting review before publication, but i am in talks with someone who will let me use their Vellum!
started research on how to self pub/what company i want to go through (and actually set up a channel where i can dump my research once i compile it!)
cried a lot over this whole process. a lot.
so yeah! a lot has happened! a lot of good stuff, but a lot of stressful stuff as well! that's okay though, i'm just over the moon that i have an official pub date 🥰
i'm going to push through to the end of camp nano, but i am going to try and get back into weekly wupdates and just talking about writing a lot more. i was a little hesitant about joining camp nano given how bad regular nano went for me last year, but a new server i joined has really helped me find my love of writing again (thank you doom and clanky and so many others that i met through the bird app, i love you all)
anyways, enough rambling. let's get to what you guys are really here for: snippets! i am going to add a couple here (read, a snippet for each chapter i've missed updating here) to make up for my relative silence as of late:
Chapter 5:
There are two more encounters listed below it, but before Icarus can read them over he is distracted by a flash of gold entering the shop. His eyes shoot up, latching to the new patron standing in line with their back to him. It’s normal for bright colors and movement to grab his attention, but this time something feels different. He can’t put his thumb on it, but his brain is telling him that he should recognize them. It’s screaming that he should know who they are.
But for the life of him, he cannot make out who it is. Whomst? The fuck? From this distance, he can’t see anything that might tell him who they are. Their plain black clothes could be the tell of an Elysian, but that isn’t a guarantee. The only truly identifiable trait is the halo of blond curls cascading over their shoulders. Why do I feel like I know them?
Chapter 6:
Ariadne whistles, a long and appreciative sound as she sees her husband’s work. The tattoo had been a beast to heal, but the hours of torturous pain and restless nights of endless itching had been well worth it. He spent days ogling the tattoo after it had first healed, the feathers look so real that you can almost feel them when running your hands over the inked skin. It is everything he wanted and then some.
A feather-light touch runs down the etched skin. There is only one person who had ever touched him with that kind of reverence, his artist must have gotten up to inspect the tattoo. He is admiring his art—as he should—when he says, “Looks like you should have used more lotion.”
He lets go of one edge of the hoodie to flip him the bird. It’s impossible to hide anything from his artist, of course, and he knew that his lackluster care would be noted. There are likely small splotches where the ink had fallen out due to his poor moisturizing regiment, but it’s not like he has much of a choice in that.
Icarus drops the back of his hoodie with a sigh as he turns to face the artist again. YOU KNOW? HARD REACH AREA ALONE. His eyebrows raise as he speaks, his signs becoming large and boisterous. He then mimes trying to reach the middle of his back. That gets a chortle out of his artist and Ariadne. He hadn’t thought to consider how he would need to reach every part of his back before getting the tattoo, and the fact that he doesn’t have anyone in his life to help him makes it that much worse.
Chapter 7:
“Look,” Andromeda levels at him, voice growing in intensity as they say, “I understand that you don’t quite trust me yet. I mean, we just met yesterday. Hell, I don’t even know your name yet! But-”
“Icarus.” He grabs the hoodie on the left and pulls it over his head. He takes a moment to pull his hair up and fasten it in a ponytail before turning and leaning back against the closet door. “My name is Icarus.”
“Okay. Icarus. Y’know, that fits.” Their voice is calmer, quieter, as if that piece of information is enough to placate them.
Icarus huffs. The name really does fit him, doesn’t it? Always jumping into things without thinking of the consequences, taking risks, and keeping shit close to his chest until he gets a bit too close to hubris and starts to fall apart. Falling in love with the sun personified. Burning, falling, crashing, drowning. Yeah, the name fits him.
The only difference between him and the Icarus of myth is that he died at the end of his story. Icarus has no plans of dying. No, he plans of making it out the other end of his story and living to tell the tale.
Chapter 8:
“I thought the whole ‘Oh, Hestia has a pizza shop?’ ordeal would tell you that I have no idea where to go.”
Huh, yeah, that should have clicked with him. It’s not like they could search up directions, they likely don’t have a phone just the same as him. Can’t risk having a way for someone to use GPS to locate him. It’s not like he has anyone to keep in contact with, anyways.
“It’s just down the street. Go out the front of the building and head down West Saint Clair, it’s just past fourth street. I’d say can’t miss it but you very much could, there’s no sign out front. It’s the only building that looks like there’s someone living in it on that block, though.”
“Got it. West Saint Clair, Fourth Street, not-abandoned building.” Andromeda repeats the directions to themself as they head towards the front door. “Anything else while I’m out?”
Chapter 9:
How could he forget?
“Καιρὸς δε, Thanatos,” he mumbles as he stretches his arms out in front of him and rests his forehead on the blissfully cool counter.
“And here I was thinking you weren’t gonna remember me.” Long gone is the shrill and timid voice of a sickly kid, replaced by one of the most soothing and deep tones Icarus had ever heard.
“…Fair ‘nuff.” The vibrations of a glass hitting the counter top make Icarus look up. A glass of water, just water. He groans, that is not what he wants right now. He’s craving the sweet buzz of an energy drink, but that will require him to get up and walk around the island to grab one.
Andromeda chuckles, not moving an inch as they watch Icarus suffer over the glass. “Quit pouting and drink.” He drops his head, turning his face away from the glass.
“Oh come on, you big baby. Deja de hacer un berrinche y bebe.” They poke his cheek as he pouts. “Mira, food’s ready. Sit up and eat.”
Chapter 10:
“Why are we running?” they ask, gasping for air after the impromptu sprint.
Icarus points to the bird as it hops along the ridge of the tent. He turns to watch their reaction, this is a big deal.
Their eyes widen and their jaw drops open, they are just as shocked as he is. His smile has not left, though it dulls as their face drops to sadness and grim acceptance. What?
“A crow.”
Before he can say anything the look is gone. They beam a bright smile at him. “I can’t believe you found a bird! That’s definitely good luck for us.”
But it’s not, their reaction sits wrong with him. He squints his eyes, watches them to see if that glimpse of despair will surface again.
When it doesn’t, Icarus forces a smile on his face. If they don’t want to talk about it then he isn’t going to talk about it.
Okay, i think that's enough of a writing dump for now. here's the CMI Taglist:
@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @writingpotato07-deactivated2023 @leighvalentin @inkspellangel @cljordan-imperium @outpost51 @alleahgrinnon @smol-feralgremlin
Please fill out this form to be added or ask to be removed!
#call me icarus#wip update#writing#writeblr#wip excerpt#wupdate#tragedy#adult fantasy#dark fantasy#andi writes
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✨Weekly Progress #11-12✨
Weekly Progress #11
Wrote 400+ words for BWBOK (fin)
Prepared SYVNH script for editing, discussed with editor
Wrote 2.9k+ words for a gift
Did 2.5 panel coloring for DGM
Sketched 4 illustrations for [fan project #1]
Revisited Peter Pan idea
Weekly Progress #12
Prepped SYVNH new art
Made Peter Pan idea outline
Finished 4 linearts for [fan project #1]
Programmed in all new SYVNH art
Sketched sprite for SFB
This is probably the only art I have to show for the past two weeks so here it is...!
The Beauty Which Only Beast Knows
The script is now done and currently being edited. Unfortunately, we have slipped a bit on the dates we hoped to meet for milestones. I'll probably need to make a new schedule soon.
But, hey... If we take until May to finish, we can submit it for Otome Jam!
Stuck in a Yandere Visual Novel... HELP!!
Okay, I may have dropped the ball on this 💦 I got the script to my editor/proofreader and they did amazing!! They finished reviewing well before the deadline they gave themself, but I didn't realize that lol;; So I could've started scripting a lot earlier, but I didn't;;
I was really hoping to finish the entire project by the end of March, but since March has 3 days left, that probably isn't possible. But, it should be done soon. I just have 20k words to script...
But other than that, all the art has been programmed in! (Until I decide I want more animation during CG moments lol
Other Fanworks
I won't go into a lot of detail for this, but since it took a lot of my time the past few weeks, I decided to add it here as accomplishments.
(I think I wrote over 10k words in gifts the past couple weeks.)
A Sky of Falling Birds
The script for this has been finished for a while so I thought I'd start making some sketch sprite work for it. I still don't know for sure what sort of visual theme I want to use for the game so I didn't get very far.
[Peter Pan Project]
Perhaps I'm jumping the gun a bit, but since SYVNH is coming to a finish, I started thinking about what future projects to do. This idea was something I came up with on a whim last year and I decided to revisit it to see what I can possibly make out of it.
It'll likely be shorter than SYVNH (read: for my sanity, future me, please make it shorter) and is inspired by Peter Pan. It'll be a BL so we have Wendell as our main character, exploring a fictional Victorian-esque kingdom. I'm still debating on the routes and gameplay.
The visual themes for this project are inspired by Pandora Hearts, D. Gray-Man, and possibly Smokin' Parade.
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"“i need to test out a theory” “..okay?” “i require your help” “how so” “you need to kiss me”"
This :)
Ok uhhh here we go!
Viktor×GN!Reader
“i need to test out a theory” “..okay?” “i require your help” “how so” “you need to kiss me”
The late spring rain patters on the glass doors of your studio. The radio plays some new songs on the local station. Your paintbrush dips into the glob of yellow paint on your palate before dragging along the canvas. You were supposed to head out today to get shopping done, but the weather was just bad enough to deter you, and your in progress painting was neglected.
You hum along to the tunes that you remember until someone starts knocking at your door.
" 's open." You holler and go back to humming, now swinging in time with the beat.
"Why you leave your door unlocked is beyond me." Viktor says as you hear him push his way in. He drops his bag on a nearby table and you hear several things clatter across the floor, which Viktor curses at.
"B'cause no one wants to steal from a freak like me." You smile and bend backwards to look at your friend.
As if to spite you, Viktor grabs one of your empty mugs and puts it in his bag.
"Looks like there's been a robbery. Shame." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
"Mm. Yes. That mug was my great grandmother's, she was a queen you know, so it's definitely worth all the gold in Piltover."
Viktor snorts and you crack a grin before setting your brushes down.
His laugh is what drew you in the first time after all.
You were working in the contemporary wing of the Piltover Arts Museum, installing paintings sent in by some new modern artist. The canvases were all hand-stretched around frames of irregular shapes that made them unwieldy to handle.
You had just gotten done hanging the last piece when a young man walked into the exhibit. He took his time examining every piece and leaned on his crutch when he would roll his ankle or stretch his knee. You kept an eye on him as he moved, ready to answer whatever question he would have.
You were expecting something along the lines of "How did the artist get such a vibrant blue?" Or "This one is called 'Love Eternal' but there's nothing here?"
You weren't expecting, "What's your thought on the exhibit?"
"Excuse me?" You asked.
"Your thoughts? You work here do you not?"
"I…I do. I think this exhibit it…eccentric." You find the politest way to answer.
He sighs, looks away, then back at you with a smirk, "What a safe answer. But what do you really think?"
"It's a crock a' shit is what." You state plainly.
And he laughs.
He laughs with his whole body, the sound rings with genuine amusement.
"Good answer!"
You find yourself smiling, "Okay wise guy, what do you think?"
"I think the artist just wanted to feel self important."
Now it's your turn to laugh, "I like you, what's your name?"
"Viktor." He holds out his hand and you firmly shake it as you introduce yourself.
From there the two of you became fast friends. You learned of his position at the academy and your jaw hit the floor when you realized he was one of the Hextech founders. You would listen for hours as he talked through his current progress with his research while you studied his features and sketched them in your book. You would eventually show him your studio where you lived in the commerce district, right above a flower shop run by two wonderful old ladies. And he would complement your paintings and watch as you worked when he needed a quiet place away from the lab.
You weren't quite sure when the feelings began to develop, but they sure did. You could no longer focus on his words, but rather the movement of his lips. More than once did he visit your dreams, leaving you cold and alone when you awoke. You wanted to tell him about it but…it felt wrong.
Viktor was your only real friend. As you didn't really find time to meet people between working at the museum and taking sign commissions. He was the only person who seemed to want to know you, who didn't mind your ramblings or off key singing to the radio. It was a friendship you cherished and didn't want to lose.
"So what brings you all the way out here on such a miserable day?" You ask and place a kettle on the stove.
"I need to test out a theory." He watches you cross the floor.
"Ohhhkay." You shuffle your current commission out of the way so you can pull out your coffee table to the center of the room.
"I require your help." He accepts the mug of tea you hand him.
"How so?" You plop down on your couch.
Viktor takes a sip then a steadying breath.
"You need to kiss me."
Tea sputters out of your mouth and you cough violently, "WHAT?"
"I need your help with this theory." He sits next to you, knee brushing yours.
"How does--wh--kiss?! You?"
"Yes. Me." You notice his hands balling into fists at his sides.
Your cheeks heat up. You've dreamed about kissing Viktor for a while now, but the way he was asking? He seemed unsure and nervous and--
"Oh what the hell." You grab him by the shoulders and peck him on the lips.
Your heart flips. You notice Viktor staring at you with his face turning an adorable shade of red.
"I…I think I've come to a conclusion." He blinks a few times.
"Please share. I'm dying to know what was going through your head."
"You…have feelings for me."
You freeze.
Viktor leans in close to you, "That's good. Because I don't know what I would do if my own affections weren't reciprocated."
He cups your cheek with a slender hand and pulls you back in for a longer, slower, gentle kiss.
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Artist’s Muse AU
McShep | 914 words | M | AU-gust 2022
Fluff | John is a little shit
on AO3
John discovers Rodney has a secret hobby.
“Whatcha got there?”
John reaches for the small notebook Rodney has been scribbling in intently, oblivious to John’s entrance to the lab. He jolts just before John can grasp it, his face a picture of comical horror. He clutches the notebook tightly enough to his chest to crush it and pushes his rolly chair with enough force that it flies back until it smacks another console.
John grins. Whatever it is, it must be good , but even if it isn’t, he’s always up for a game of keep-away.
“Working on a new theory you don’t want anyone to see yet?”
John takes a slow, deliberate step forward. Rodney re-angles his chair and pushes it again, slamming into another console.
“Or maybe it’s a ‘Dear Diary, Radek is more brilliant than I will ever let on.‘“
Rodney’s face gets all cute (ie. annoyed and pinched). “Sure Sheppard, right beside my Rodney+John heart doodles.”
John takes another few unhurried steps and puts a hand over his heart. “Aww, Rodney, I didn’t know you cared.”
He’s out of his chair now, trying to side-step John (he’s run out of room to retreat) in a maneuver that might have worked, if John hadn’t been the one who’d taught it to him. He catches Rodney’s wrist and with a precise squeeze, Rodney yelps and drops the notebook, right into John’s waiting hands.
“Entirely unfair!” Rodney bites off, ‘annoyed and pinched’ is now turning into a glower (also cute and, yes, John is entirely aware of how far gone this makes him in the Rodney-crush department). “You’re using your military ninja powers on me. Does privacy mean nothing to you?!”
They do a little dance, of sorts, with Rodney trying to grab his journal back and John deftly keeping it just out of reach. “C’mon buddy, if it’s not a diary or a top-secret Nobel winning theory…?”
He vaults over a console, temporarily stymieing Rodney’s progress, and flips it open. Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t this.
“Huh.”
“Huh? That’s it? Sheppard, we are too old to be doing this. It’s ridiculous. Undignified. Give it back.”
Rodney’s rounding the console, but John has vaulted neatly over another, eyes never leaving the page.
“Damn. You’re really good. Why would you hide this?”
“Give. It. Back.”
Something in Rodney’s tone makes him look up. Glowery has been replaced by a mix of genuine anger, distress and… embarrassment? He can’t see why. Sketches of slender fingers, studies of eyes, a sort of imperfect bumpy nose, full lips, ears that look elven… oh.
Shit.
Rodney uses his stunned realization to snatch it back, stuffing it under his jacket and out of reach unless John really wants to work for it. He doesn’t. He’s seen enough and Rodney’s twisted red face is twisting guilt in his gut.
“It helps me think, okay? When I’m stuck. And I’m really stuck on this stupid transporter issue and everyone is down my god damned back about it because they have to walk everywhere. Like I want to walk everywhere? Are they fucking kidding me? I’m the poster child for not wanting to walk. My sciatic nerve is telling me every day just now not happy it is about it. So I sketch. I do things with my hands. I used to play piano but we don’t have one here, so I sketch and it clears my mind and so what if I sketch you. I’m with you all the fucking time, so your features are just familiar. But no, you’ve got to make it weird. Do you know what a challenge it is to sketch your stupid hair? Have you ever—”
“Rod-ney!”
“What?!”
John waits. A solid beat. Just to be sure the ramble isn’t going to forge on.
“Do you sketch Ronon and Teyla?”
Rodney doesn’t need to answer aloud. It’s written on his face from the moment the question leaves John’s lips. Rodney’s so truthfully blunt he’s never learned how to be a good liar. He starts trying to answer, to deny, but he’s stammering now and John grins, putting a shushing finger over Rodney’s lips. He hadn’t thought Rodney could blanch harder but he has.
John steps back and cocks a hip. Rodney’s gaze snaps there, then snaps back.
“How would you like a live subject?”
“Wait— what?”
“Because your sketchbook seems to be missing some things.”
“Missing…”
“Things you aren’t so familiar with…”
John places his thumbs in his front pockets and angles his hands just so. Rodney’s eyes dart helplessly again. His face is still very red, but it’s not anger anymore.
“Right. Things…”
“Yes.” John grins. “I’d be happy to help you with those… things.”
Rodney’s eyes are meeting his again, a little frantic. “O-okay. I-I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud, but this is so far out from where I thought my day was going, and sometimes I really misread hints. Even hints this—” His hand flaps in John’s general direction.
John laughs. The frantic babbling is cute too. Yes, very far gone.
“My cock, Rodney. Things is my cock.”
“Oh thank god.”
John tilts his head to the side, angling toward the door.
“Now?” Rodney’s voice is a little strangled and damned if that isn’t cute too.
“Yes, Rodney, now.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. They end up in his quarters, where John models, naked, as promised. The sketch, however, day after day, remains mysteriously incomplete— no matter how many times they try.
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Cherry Tree - Mizuena
In which - Ena comforts Mizuki and they confess to each other.
pairing: mizuki akiyama x ena shinonome
genre: a bit of angst/comfort, fluff
tags: kissing, cuddling, (idk what do you write as tags for this lmao)
word count: 1,5k
first time writing on here and I have no idea how it works! :D
Pov: 3rd Person
'They're late,' the brunette thought, annoyed. She dipped her pen in the pink color again and kept drawing. Her mood dropped every minute she waited for the slightly over-motivated, pink-haired person. 'C'mon... I can't concentrate without them, where is Mizuki?' Ena exhaled. Then she put her pen down and stretched.
"Enanan!!" A person suddenly said and Ena jumped. She didn't notice the sound of someone joining the vc on nightcord. It was Mizuki. "Hey, Amia! You're late." Ena said, annoyed but happy her friend finally joined. "Yeahhhh sorry, I got caught up in something haha. What are you doing? Ah, and I saw the pic you posted on Instagram earlier! You wore the dress I made for you again but didn't credit meeee. That's really mean you know?" Mizuki said in a playfully mean voice, silently giggling.
"Come on Amia, everyone knows that you design my clothes sometimes. Also, I was working on some of the sprites for the music video earlier so would you like to check it out?"
"Mhm, I'll gladly do that hehe," Mizuki answered. Ena quickly send over the sprites she was sketching and Mizuki instantly opened them. They were pleased by the progress of their best friend. 'We are best friends... right?' Mizuki thought to themself. They were still very insecure even after they told their group about their insecurities. They sighed.
"Something wrong Amia?" Ena asked concerned. Amia. Something in Mizuki's heart started to sting. Why did it feel so wrong? "Uhm... no, nothing's wrong don't worry Ena haha..." Mizuki facepalmed in their mind. Ena was so not gonna believe that.
"Amia you can't fool me, there's definitely something wrong." Ena started to get really worried. What was bothering Mizuki so much? They seemed really happy when they joined just a few minutes ago.
Mizuki froze. There was something in Ena's voice that felt so familiar. So warm. Tears started to form in their eyes. "I..."
"Hey, c'mon Amia, you know I'm here for you and I'll never ever leave you. You're my best friend after all." Ena tried to comfort Mizuki but she felt like it didn't really work out. She sighed and put away her pens and closed the little paint boxes.
"I... I know but..." Mizuki tried to hold back the tears. "Do you want a hug?" Ena blurted out. "...What?" Mizuki was confused, did they understand right what Ena just said? "Do... Do you want a hug? Like right now? We could meet in Sekai. If- If you want of course." Ena felt her cheeks heat up. This was so not like her. But she liked Mizuki a lot. And she really wanted them to feel better, she can't see them sad. That would be too much for her heart.
"Sure, I would appreciate that..." Deep inside, something felt warm. Mizuki just needed Ena to be there. To be theirs. Friends. Just best friends. Was not enough anymore. They knew that they loved Ena. More than just with their whole heart. But with their whole soul, life and existence.
"Then let's meet in Sekai," Ena said, confirming her choice. "But... isn't it too late for you?" Mizuki asked, hesitating. "Aw come on, we went to Sekai to save Yuki how many times at... I don't know, 4 am? I don't mind spending time with you at this time, you know?" Ena rolled her eyes. That Mizuki. Always so smug but is asking if it's really okay to meet in Sekai when it's 4 am.
"I'll wait for you there." Ena logged off and started untitled.
Only moments later, she was in Sekai. The grey and almost empty world started to change little by little. She remembered the day when Mizuki and Rin found a really beautiful cherry tree. They immediately called for the others to show them the beautiful sight. Not only was it super pretty, but it was also warm. It felt so warm just sitting underneath the tree, admiring the cherry blossoms that would never stop blooming.
"I'm here Ena..." Ena turned around to see Mizuki. Their hair was a bit messy and their eyes were slightly red and puffy but they looked so sweet. "Amia, it's good to see you," Ena gave them a soft smile. Mizuki tried to smile back but it didn't quite work out. "Come here," Ena softly said and Mizuki quickly walked over to her.
Ena embraced Mizuki and they have never felt so loved before. It's been a long time since they got a warm, sincere hug. "I'm always here for you Amia..." "Mizuki... It's Mizuki... We're best friends, right...?" "Of course Mizuki."
And so they stood there. Ena gently brushed over Mizuki's back, just enjoying the hug and trying to comfort them. "I'll always be there if you need me, I promise," Ena whispered. "Thank you so much, Ena. You mean the world to me," Mizuki whispered back.
After maybe 5 minutes Mizuki gently pushed Ena away to wipe away the tears that escaped their eyes. "Let's go to the cherry tree and cuddle, okay?" Mizuki asked shyly, looking to the ground. "Yeah, let's go," Ena answered and took Mizuki's hand.
They walked in silence. But it wasn't an awkward kind of silence, it was comfortable.
When they reached the cherry tree, Ena sat down and pat to her lap. Mizuki put their head on her lap and closed their eyes. Ena just smiled at their peaceful expression and started to play with their hair. Mizuki's breathing calmed down and Ena thought they fell asleep.
"Haha... you look so cute when you're asleep. I hope you don't have nightmares. I really wanna tell you that I love you, you know? But I'm scared... Of getting rejected. Maybe one day..." Ena mumbled.
"Hehe, I love you too Ena~" Mizuki whispered back. "Y-You're awake!?" Ena's face got really red and Mizuki turned their head to look at her. "Yes I am, I love you so much. You mean the world to me!" "I love you too, Mizuki," Ena smiled, her face still bright red. Mizuki also started to blush but they were too happy to care.
"So... what were you upset about earlier? If you want to tell me of course," Ena wanted to know. "It's just... you calling me Amia after everything we've been through, it hurts. And I was scared that were not really friends you know..." Mizuki started to mumble because they felt silly after the confession.
"Oh Mizuki, I'm so sorry, I thought that you wanted me to keep calling you Amia. And never ever think that were not friends. Because we are. I mean, I love you, we could even be more than friends if you're okay with that. I mean, I don't know if you'd even want to be in a relationship with a girl so-" while Ena kept on rambling, Mizuki got up and sat on Ena's lap.
"Shut up, that's enough." And with that, Mizuki lifted Ena's chin a little and cupped her face. "Can I?" Mizuki asked, Ena just nodded. "Say it please~" "Yes, y-you can." Ena's face turned even redder. Mizuki closed their eyes and got closer. Then they locked lips with the girl they loved so much. Ena's lips felt so soft and they were melting into the kiss. Ena put her hands around Mizuki's neck, pulling them even closer. Ena could taste the cherry chapstick Mizuki always told her about and she never wanted to let go. But they shortly run out of air, so they broke the kiss to breathe.
Only to lock their lips once again. And this time Ena was way needier than before. She opened her mouth slightly to lick over Mizuki's lips. Mizuki started to smile into the kiss and opened their mouth as well. Then they gently licked over Ena's lips and tried to enter her mouth. Ena let them and after a few minutes of making out, they stopped because even though they stopped every time to catch their breath for a second, they were exhausted.
"That was... So good. Mizuki I love you so much." Ena smiled and tears of joy formed in her eyes. "Aww, Ena I love you too. Do you wanna be my girlfriend?" Mizuki also smiled and Ena nodded, "I'd love to!" Then she started crying because she couldn't hold back anymore. She was so happy that the person she had liked, no, loved for months is finally hers. "Can we stay like this for a while?" Ena asked while Mizuki held her tight. "Of course, cutie." Ena started to blush even more. "Thank you..."
And so they fell asleep under the cherry tree.
Rin found them there at 8 in the morning but decided to let them sleep because they looked exhausted. Instead, she decided to tell Luka. Maybe something would change again in this Sekai. Maybe this Sekai would soon be full of happy thoughts. Maybe the key to saving Mafuyu was near. Maybe Kanade would find her true feelings too. Maybe.
---
Hi :)
It’s the first time writing a pjsekai oneshot, hope u enjoyed it. I’m still trying to figure out how this works so bare with me haha.
I love Mizuena so take it and eat it up :p
U can request something if you want but don't expect too much :D
-rin
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gooood morning! travel day today. here’s the day:
up at 7:30 - take dogs out, start laundry
8-10 coffee, emails, switch laundry, might do Walgreens run (allergy meds, spray bottle)
10-11:15 shower, breakfast, laundry, pack
11:15ish order tacos
11:45 leave to pick up tacos and drop off dogs at sitter’s 😭 (BRING DOG FOOD)
12 head to airport
12:20ish park at airport & walk
1:15 flight boards
work on plane
3:15 arrive in LA
watch last hockey game 😭😭😭 and write
I am lightly nervous about staying in a shared dorm in a hostel lol I haven’t done that in forever and I feel kind of old for it but whatever!! it was so much cheaper!! I can do what I want!! also this will probably be where I get COVID lol but my parents both got it from our florida trip and I didn’t so I’m hoping I had it already and was asymptomatic?? who knows I’m not going to worry about it.
the flight is 3.5 hours and I want to make good use of that time… lemme think about some goals. I have the following work things to do over the weekend:
reply to MC email
reply to AS email (catering, final dates)
reply to SO scheduling email
comments on KC zine
comments on ML website copy
create panels + schedule if they get paper titles to me
schedule reminder email for panel titles
email potential panel moderators (EL, MC, DN?) if I decide to go that route
create flyer or contact graphic designer sigh
figure out where to circulate invite and set reminder email for myself - send out by Wed
lesson plan for Monday’s seminar
get headcount for symposium
okay. then I also really want/need to make good progress on this draft, which I am starting to feel nervous about 🥴 the idea feels solid but I’m just worried about how packed the next two months are… if I’m not careful about making substantive progress now that deadline’s going to be here before I know it. so I would also like to set the goal for this weekend of mapping out the first half of the story (~25 scenes). I don’t need full scene drafts (that would be crazy… unless… lol) but I do want to have thumbnail sketches. I’m trying to approach each half as having several multi-scene sequences structured around a handful of key events and I want to nail down what those big ‘events’ might be. I think I’ll devote one plane ride to writing and one to work, or do half and half tbd.
all right! onwards!
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Roman's Spirits - High School AU
And here's a little one shot to get this idea out of my head. I just wanna give Roman an inconvenient autistic symptom because I find it cathartically authentic.
If this somehow becomes a series I'm gonna be so pissed and so excited simultaneously. It's such a cute AU idea but my brain is so heavily discordant that finding the resolve to structure something of it is impossible.
What Roman was most excited for was about to come to fruition. He stood lined up outside his art class, embroidered backpack hanging by the top loop on his fingers, bouncing off his knees and landing again repeatedly as he fidgeted. When the teacher emerged from her office and unlocked the door, he smiled.
"You like the oil?" Remus half-mocked. Roman rolled his eyes.
"Yes. I like how they blend."
"And you wanna feel like a renaissance artist."
"Yes, that too. Stop."
Remus sneered as they walked in and threw his bag beneath the desk. Roman placed his down cordially and glided across the floor to the demonstration desk to tuck himself in with the rest.
Having never used oils, Roman didn't know that spirits were needed for cleaning the brush between colour changes. Given the chemistry involved, perhaps he should've guessed. The teacher set up the pallette and he watched with fervor until she started to explain how oil won't clean off without a proper agent. His face started to drop.
Alcohol didn't smell great in general. This was concentrated spirit without anything scented to stifle the fermented tang.
At first, Roman thought he might be okay. He rationalised, arms crossed and getting antsy, that perhaps he could avoid close quarters.
The jar came out and was opened, and for a second he was alright. However, in his wisdom, his hopes didn't rise. As seconds continue to tick past, the scent started circling the room, reaching Roman at the ten second mark. It was a mild sensation, but it was enough. Roman's lip curled.
Remus watched from the other side with unbridled concentration on every change in Roman's expression.
As the demonstration went on, Roman's senses started to blur. Colours started to blend together and his spacial awareness lowered in sharpness. By the end, he was swaying gently, arms crossed over his stomach as it bubbled to try quelling the discomfort.
The art it produced was so splendid, he couldn't excuse himself just yet. Have you ever wanted something so badly that you're willing to suffer for it?
When given their own jars - shared between two - and sent to their desks, Roman was a little slower than the rest of the class. He'd barely sat himself down by the time everyone else was starting their sketches.
It was in the air, constant and distracting. Roman didn't start right away. His breathing laboured.
"I know you wanna do this, but you gotta leave," Remus whispered beneath the chatter of classmates and clinking of metal against glass. The ambience drowned them out unless you were literally between the two.
Roman shook his head. Whether it was a denial of help or a way to clear up his senses enough to respond was unclear.
A few more minutes passed of Remus starting his own project tentatively. His progress was slow due to distraction, which he thought might end up being a waste of time, until Roman actually gagged. It was skillfully subdued, hidden behind a hand. They stood up swiftly and in sync and rushed out.
"I'll be back," Remus insisted to their teacher, not sticking around for permission or a reaction.
Once out of the classroom, Roman dragged his hand down his dampened face and strapped on the mask. A steel eye and a stiff upper lip worked well enough to disguise how he pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It started to fall apart when they saw the bathroom door and Roman started skipping ahead. Remus ran to keep up.
Thank God his hair was braided already. All he had to do as he collapsed into the nearest stall was claw his chin-length bangs backward.
Regardless, it was ugly, but Remus didn't flinch. He waited patiently for about two minutes as Roman flitted between being 'finished' and then retching again. During the second minute, he took a moment outside to call their dad and ask for a ride home. He also picked up a bottle of water and a can of ginger ale from the nearby vending machine.
Roman was out when he returned.
"Dad's on his way."
Roman let his brother drag him by the upper arm to the front desk, where he sat with his drinks until he returned with their bags.
"Thanks for the half-day," he remarked when he threw himself into the plastic stool beside Roman's arm chair and let his knees fall apart nonchalantly. Roman responded with a long draw of ginger ale, finishing the can just before their father arrived.
"Details," Janus demanded, directed at Remus despite being in the backseat, stone-faced and efficient as he ever was.
"Oil paints and spirits," Remus shrugged.
"Oh, sweetheart," Janus lamented quietly with a reach over to define the curl covering Roman's face. It put a little smile on his face for a second.
Patton was on the doorstep waiting to recieve them when they pulled into the drive. Janus got out, gave him a little kiss on the jaw as he arrived at the car and passed Roman off to him. They entered the house a pitiful sight.
Remus stood with his arms crossed until Janus offered him a note to repay him for the drinks.
"Thanks, dad."
"Inside. Come on."
Roman shut everyone out. Soon as Patton let him go, he escaped up the stairs, tears in his eyes, and locked his door with latch and key. For half an hour, he straightened out his entire room to the very last detail, ending up with a reorganised bookshelf and self-care stocked bedside table. Once finished, he snuck out to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
In order, Roman brushed his teeth, took a cold shower, redid his hair and drew himself a glass of water. He waited for silence in the hallway before braving it. When he arrived, he changed into his red pyjamas. They looked lovely against the creamy checkered bedsheets he'd picked out.
Finally, he could breathe. Sat up with pillows between his back and the headboard, Roman picked up one of his hardback screenplays of Shakespeare and started reading, eyes dull at first.
A knock at the door dragged his attention away just as his mood began to lift. He finished the sip of water he'd been savouring to answer.
"Yes?"
"It's Logan. What happened?"
Cordial as always.
"It's over with. I am fine." His tone struck blunt and hard. Logan shrugged and made his way back downstairs.
"He says he's fine and I have no reason to doubt he won't be if we leave him to soothe himself."
"Good," Janus nodded once, handing him a cup of tea as a reward. "Keep an eye?"
"I will."
Patton reached out and grazed Logan's cheek. "Don't concern yourself too much."
"I won't."
"Has he ever said anything more to us before?"
"Not in all 22 years."
"I didn't think so."
#remus sanders#sanders sides#roman sanders#thomas sanders#logan sanders#patton sanders#sick sanders sides
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I Started Typing A Regular Post When Oops It Turned Into An Update Post (Mainly about MH-AU & XXY)
Just spent the last couple hours give-or-take on completing Cleo's profile, which I'm excited to be releasing later today! Her post is scheduled to release around noon EDT (I scheduled Lagoona's and it made things a lot easier to post her at a reasonable hour so I'm doing that from now on cause OH MY GOD :'D). She will be the last in the current set of character designs/bios I have prepared.
I have one teensy tiny more MH-AU goodie for Halloween before I get back to XXY full-time (dw I have been working on it in the background, progress has just been super slow cause I'm trying to finish the fic's outline). I will still be working on the MH-AU, don't get me wrong, just not as my top priority cause my PPG followers have been patient enough with me for more XXY content. I do plan on making another series of character design/bios, this time focusing on the mansters since they actually serve a purpose in the fics other than "the boyfriend" (Sorry they didn't do too much in a majority of the movies okay, I love them in the webisodes tho!). And once Cleo's post drops, I'll make a masterpost for the MH-AU since there's enough out now that I feel it necessary; keeps all the lore organized and junk. I'll have it linked in my general masterpost for quick access should anyone need it for reference. If they are updated at all later on, I'll make a post about it.
My current oneshot WIPs for the MH-AU are:
- My equivalent to G1's New Ghoul @ School (tbh I might just use that name cause it's so iconic and I can't really come up with anything better lol), which might end up becoming a SMALL multichapter should it require that (3-6 Chapters max). There's a lot that goes on in Frankie's first week, more than the original series of mishaps unfortunately (poor Frankie :'D), and it also sets up a lot of stuff prior to the first week of school for them that I think is super important to their character.
- Taking A Lycan To New Salem (Working Title), a short story about one of Clawdeen's human-side escapades gone wrong. (I want to talk about this one SO BAD but alas, it'll have to wait til I finish the fic. I'm already 1k words into it!)
And I have several more in mind that I can't wait to write and share. Until then, I'll keep you guys posted!
(Random side note: I had no idea how many of these characters were gonna have a criminal record like holy shit dgfhgsddfg)
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I've been in a super artsy mood so if I can manage to actually complete a sketch of the team, I really wanna post a drawing of XXY as a whole (I tend to ditch my sketches after 1-2 characters are drawn q-q). I also really wanna draw the "Normie Trio/3" as I call them, consisting of Robin, Mitch and Mike. I eventually wanna draw more characters that get redesigns from age, alterations in the case of the reboot villains, and such, but I think I just needed to get into the art mood again cause now I actually plan to do these things! :D
Also, while progress has been slow, I'm gonna assume from my current status that I'll be able to complete XXY's next batch probably around the end of this year, to be released in January. I'm so sorry to delay its release to January, but please understand I am really passionate about this story and wanna make it the best (and most fun) I can make it. And I'm not gonna go out and say "hey this is exactly how many chapters there'll be," but I might end up making about 70 chapters total including all the intermission/MultiPOV chapters, but that remains to be seen.
I do have good news for you guys, however; considering where the story is headed, I've realized I'm gonna need to throw in another intermission chapter at the end of this batch, with a new character's POV! They haven't shown up yet, and won't until that chapter, but believe me when I say I am VERY VERY excited to write it and I really love this character. The chapter name for them is super appropriate too lol.
While I'm here I'm gonna drop the chapter titles, as they don't really reveal anything. The previous theme was weather patterns, focusing on the coming and going of rain and shine. This one's flowers!
Chapter 8 - Gladiolus
Chapter 9 - Hyacinth
Chapter 10 - Spearmint
Chapter 11 - Coriander
Chapter 12 - Hibiscus
Chapter 13 - Violet
Chapter 14 - Jasmine Tobacco
Hope all the little tidbits I shared hold you guys over and get you excited for the coming months. Thanks as always for your patience!
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PROCESS OF CONTRASTING / REFINING MY STAIR ILLUSION.
Here is what Chris did, to show me the importance of what colour can be used as the highlight and what colour can be used as the shade, where the light is coming from for this to not look flat and for it to look 3D and that it is going a certain direction, with needing to play around and just judge it and see what works and what doesn't.
Using this as an example, to see how just changing one aspect of something can easily help make something 3D. With with one aspect of the drawing, cause there was no indicator of another stairs overlapping them, using the shade or highlight wouldn't work on their own, so Chris dropped the opacity and showed me going over it a little in lines by the direction the stairs are going in, with how the wall works. Without doing too much of it where it turns into another basic colour, would work t make something look 3D despite being something simple. In terms of the faces of the stairs which will be a little hard I have to understand how light refleect and corruspond that to understand what step has a shade and what step has a highlight.
I begin to play around and try and trial shading and highlights
This is a challenge to do and i may need opinions upon the matter, to see what i am doing is the correct thing. With finding other aspects to make it look more gritty and a horrible place.
With help from Chris and Kyrstie, i understood that the lines were a good choice especially if there is no colour. however upon adding the colour to the overall design it made it look flat. So Chris made sure i understood that I can use the black lines as a tool to fill in the spaces, then get rid of the lines and refine them so they look like stairs. This will be elevated with the dark green, brown and red. Which will indicate that what is the wall, what is the outline or shaded part of the stairs, what will be where the stairs end.
(Red) - Wall
(Brown) - End of the stairs, or end wall
(bage) - Where light reflects on the steps
(Dark Green) - Where the shaded aspects of the stairs are.
The Compared images.
EVALUATION - Something I really learned with the whole journey of this project was simplicity was the key to give proper contrast and the feeling to what I want to give in terms as an art piece. Understanding what was required to me and using the rough sketch like guidance from the Etching trial. I was able to colour each individual square so far, to then remove those lines and refine it using the simplistic colours that I had n front of me. But this is something I was able to perfect and work on that t is okay to be rough, it is okay to be sketch like and inconsistent as long as it is intentionally inconsistent and fits with the whole vibe. Despite knowing this, it allowed me to appreciate the hard work I am progressing through this project, to understand the more styles I learn and consider the better I will become in them all and the more I will be able to refine what I've learned and got, compare to new styles see what works, or implement the both together.
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