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Tried to keep it fairly graphic feeling, but I cannot resist the call of rendering things with a bit of extra shine lol.

For @green-with-envy-phandom-event, and lines by @hithisiszooz

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take me to snurch (snail church)

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happy Thursday the 20th

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sixty billion double dollars!!

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strong...

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New tapestry design in the works ✨ this is the 11x17” print version. I really enjoyed drawing the geraniums

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Trigun in a modern setting where Vash and Wolfwood are two hitchhikers that the girls found on the side of the road and they go on a roadtrip together ❤

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'98 redraw.. i love this expression on him 😌

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some vash sketches as i figure out how i'm gonna draw him

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The redrawing is hitting hard. Come up with new ideas? no just draw your old stuff

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Ghost Speak: the Teacher

(part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

Mr. Lancer sipped absently at his lukewarm tea. He’d finally crossed the half-way mark with his CP freshman class papers, a milestone which he marked with an aggressive B- at the top of this latest paper. It was really a border-line paper, but to celebrate his own meager accomplishment, he’d rounded the grade up. The satisfaction didn’t last long, since the first half of these papers had effaced 8 grueling hours of his life. He fully expected the second half to take just as long. Possibly longer.

He licked his lips tentatively, tasting the residual lemon that stuck to his teeth. Yeah, he’d definitely overdone the lemon on this pot, and he thought bitterly about how the remaining tea he’d stuck in the fridge would be much too lemony as well. He grimaced slightly at the tartness before deciding he’d reached his limit. Lancer pushed his mug away, the papers too, and flicked his computer mouse twice. It shooed away the screensaver, and Lancer dragged up a fresh round of DOOM. He’d done enough grading for now; the rest could wait for tomorrow.

Ba-Boomer: “Edward, that you?”

Lancer glanced at his chat, but he didn’t need to check the name. Only one person had his account information on DOOM, and that was Ryan Finn, the man who’d introduced him to the game to start.

Lancerlot: “Yeah, I’m on.”

Lancer typed quickly and fired off a few quick rounds from his ray-gun.  Digital trolls dissolved left and right as he mapped out their course. Ryan was faster though, and he blew through more creatures than Lancer could count.

Ba-Boomer: “Looked into it. Couple of forums are buzzing about some box ghost in your area. Probably his doing–I wouldn’t go too hard on the students for the mess.”

Lancer smiled inwardly, glad over his decision to reconnect with the old classmate. Ryan Finn was, and always had been, a gangly man with a paranormal fetish. Back when they were classmates, he had a consistent habit of showing up in tin foil hats, wooden shoes, and occasional pieces of armor. He’d spent half a semester with crop-circles shaved into his tawny head. All his oddness meshed into one, crack-pot theory about protecting the self from ghost disturbances and telepathic infringement. All in all, his measures only protected him from making friends, and Ryan had spent a very unpopular school-life shadowing Lancer.

With the drastic change Amity Park had encountered in the last few months, Lancer had decided contacting the gawky, ghost-obsessed, semi-friend could be worthwhile.

He’d been right.

Lancerlot: “Thanks. Either the ghosts or the students are responsible for tipping over all my boxes, and my problematic students are WAY more creative than that.”

Ba-Boomer: “Yvet, Edward.”

Lancer paused, narrowly avoiding a flaming arrow shot from the distance. The name stuck out oddly.

Lancerlot: “Who’s Yvet?”

Ba-Boomer: “Whoops. Ignore that. Transcribing some notes here. Got ghost speak on the brain.”

Lancerlot: “And ghost speak is…?”

Ba-Boomer: “Currently nameless ghost language. I’ve been trying to come up with something catchy.”

Yvet. Yvet. It looked so familiar.

Lancerlot: “Well now I’m curious. What is ‘Yvet’?”

Ba-Boomer: “…Tricky one. It’s got a lot of meanings. 'Yes’ for one, but it’s also like 'I agree,’ or 'That’s true,’ or 'You make a valid point,’ or even just for emphasis of 'This is a true statement!’ You’d use it a lot if you’re trying to prove a point.”

Lancer hesitated, his fingers floating over the keyboard.

Lancerlot: “Cover me for a second.”

He slid away from his desk, snatching up the pile of ungraded papers. Lancer shuffled quickly through them, plucked the corner of Fenton’s essay, and pulled it out. The boy’s essays were usually a typographical nightmare, but this one had been particularly hard to read. He’d skipped it, figuring he’d devote the time later to decoding–

There! Second line, first word: “Yvet.” It cropped up again in the third line, then the seventh. Lancer clicked his pen open and went through marking each occurrence.

Lancer shook his head in disbelief. 27 times. Fenton had used the word 27 times. The boy had never been subtle, but this was borderline audacious.

Ba-Boomer: “What are you doing Edward? Your guy’s getting toasted out here.”

Lancer slid back to the desk.

Lancerlot: “Sorry, back now.”

He watched silently as Ryan took out a few mutant faeries, effortlessly, gracefully. Lancer stared at the chat box, noticing how easily the man had slipped in the ghost jargon. Maybe ghost language was unique. Maybe it just slips in wherever it wants.

Maybe, Lancer thought, Fenton was the same way. The ghost-speak essay wasn’t meant to mock him; it was just a quirk.

Lancer smiled to himself. His toughest student, his most confusing, secretive, puzzling student had just added to the list of things that gave his double life away.

Individually, the name, the absences, the little cuts and bruises, the appearance, and the voice might not have given Fenton away, but together, they painted an obvious picture. Lancer, on his part, had sworn himself to secrecy, and was perfectly content to be the hero’s stoic cheerleader, secretly watching from the sidelines.

Lancerlot: “Hey Ryan, how good is your ghost speak?”

Ba-boomer: “Not to brag or anything, I could probably smooth talk my way out of a speeding ticket in ghost-speak.”

Lancerlot: “Good, because I need your help.”

Ba-boomer: “With what?”

Lancerlot: “A short essay that may or may not be entirely in ghost speak. One of my students is messing with me, and I certainly can’t grade it like this.”

Ba-boomer: “Don’t take this the wrong way–I’d LOVE to look at anything you got–but isn’t the point of an English class to speak…you know, English? Not like he can expect you to grade it how it is.”

Lancer glanced at the illegible essay and smiled.

Lancerlot: “True, but there’s a bit more to it than that. If nothing else, I owe this kid a fair grade. He’s earned it.”

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“Gee Dr’s Fenton, how come your kid sets off the geiger counter?”

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he’s a phantom 👻 *bass riff*

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interesting question tucker

(original pose by mellon_soup)