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Bringing this back for Good Belly Day.

"Hey, good to meet'cha!"

"Wh--?"

Skye discovers, to his pleasant surprise, that he isn't the only massive shiny Umbreon in town.

feat. Th0mas's character, Neon.

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Poor Fess ... His "broppai" are too powerful for adorable graphic tees.

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Just ... reflecting a bit. I dunno. Maybe these don't even connect. *shrug*

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A propos of nothing, a burly blacksmith badger.

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A bad ending?

Background from a photo by user CGarageDoorRepair on MorgueFile.

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The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisconsin

… thanks, Autocorrect.

Background photo by ShannonTanski on MorgueFile.

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... I did another voice thing.

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I know, it's a skill issue ...

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Why yes, Autocorrect. I did mean to say "The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisconsin."

How did you know?

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"This is an advanced massage technique, inflating the body with concentrated Airyberry extract to gently stretch and relax the muscles as we work on the pressure points. Remember to wear gloves for this one!"

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A bit of voice acting silliness, because I should really do this more often.

If you know the original artist of this comic, please let me know so I can credit them properly - thanks!

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Werewolves must learn quickly how to practice restraint(s).

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I like the modern fantasy concept of gods and monsters adapting to the modern world and finding new ways to thrive:

Once an obscure god of fertility and abundance, this jaguar decided to try gathering a different sort of worship.

The luxury resort under his care ensures that he now has devotees all over the world. His powers ensure that the surroundings stay lush and vibrant, and that the top-notch cuisine is in plentiful supply. His high standard of service keeps customers coming back year after year, for what is a five-star review but a paean of highest praise? (He makes sure his employees are treated well, too - a god must never neglect the attendants in his temple, after all.)

So come enjoy a weekend, or a week or two. Bask in the bright sunlight, swim in the sparkling waters, walk the verdant jungle trails. Feast on the local delicacies and savor each mouthful of the luscious fruits grown just a few miles away. He's more than happy to bless the people who make the proper sacrifices (hotel fees), so do please tell your friends~

-- Background source: photograph by tbonner on morguefile.com

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"Hey, good to meet'cha!"

"Wh--?"

Skye discovers, to his pleasant surprise, that he isn't the only massive shiny Umbreon in town.

feat. Th0mas's character, Neon.

[sheppyscribbles]

Thou art I

He looked at ... himself. His yellow-eyed self. His true self, apparently. It hurt to admit, especially in front of these people he barely knew. "I ... I guess they all know my embarrassing secrets now," he mumbled. The Shadow nodded; at least he had the decency to look similarly ashamed.

All the things he hated about himself, the things he tried to hide. His arrogance, his impulsiveness, his greed and selfishness and laziness and vanity and envy and bitterness and immaturity and temper and perversion and weakness and fear, and his frantic desperate yearning for somewhere to fit. He could see the years of bullying etched into his Shadow's face, the downcast eyes of someone who would always see himself as an outcast and a fuck-up, always watching for the moment of rejection no matter how accepting the people around him claimed to be. He despised himself for those feelings, but ... seeing someone else feel them, even if that someone else were also him ... it was confusing enough that a bit of compassion sneaked around the mountain of self-loathing.

He was never very good at expressing his feelings out loud. The words got in the way of themselves. All he could think to do was reach out and pull his Shadow close, to give him a place he could belong, if only for a moment. It was enough. The tears he was always ashamed of flowed freely as the two reconciled and recombined. And then all that remained in his arms was a tarot card, The Moon. Creativity, trickery, and false faces ... it fit. And in his mind, a figure appeared: Shibaemon. A beloved tanuki musician whose mistakes cost his wife and himself their lives. That ... also fit, if painfully. He held the card to his breast and nodded solemnly.

"... th-thanks for the help, everyone ... can, uh ... we get home from here? I'm ... kinda tired."

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I am thou

The creatures were closing in on him. He never was very good at running, no matter what his mother had claimed when she forced him to join the track team. At least, he couldn't run worth shit if it wasn't to help someone else. Saving his own life didn't count, apparently. Then again, his life didn't really count anyway. At least not in his opinion; there were people he'd fooled into thinking differently, but he wasn't one of them. Besides, Death was something he wasn't supposed to fear, right? They'd just studied the poem Thanatopsis this past week, and that was all about how sweet and kind Death was, to take away the pains and sorrows of life ... looking over his shoulder at the creatures chasing him, though, they didn't seem terribly kind or gentle. A gleam on the floor caught his eye - a handgun? In Japan? He changed course, skidded to a stop - the creatures rushed past him on their own momentum. He managed to grab the weapon off of the ground ... a replica. Of course. Some decorative filigree on the barrel, something about seeing? Maybe he could act like it was real, bluff his way past whatever these creatures were -- A look of serenity settled across his face. Something was telling him what to do, and it didn't matter how little sense those actions made. He lifted the gun, pointed the barrel at his left temple, and pulled the trigger. His head jerked to the side as shards of shattered crystal sprayed from it. Behind him, a giant ghostly figure emerged from the darkness: a man in Benedictine garb, carrying a wolf over his shoulders, tethered to each other with a leash made of rosary beads. Santo Stefano del Lupo, something told him. The monk whose prayers tamed a wild beast. With a gesture from the holy titan, the pursuing monsters disintegrated in a bright flash of divine radiance. Makouga ... whatever else that word meant, it also meant he was safe for now. Stefano rested his free hand on the young man's head in a gesture of blessing before vanishing once more. The coast was clear, and he could make his way to safety. He tucked the gun-thing into the pocket of his uniform jacket and set off at a more comfortable pace. -- Tried my hand at designing a Persona in the style of Persona 3 - similar to Fuuka summoning Lucia, I settled on a Christian figure, Blessed Stephen of the Wolf. Appropriately enough, he is considered a patron of my great-grandmother's hometown of Carovilli in Italy (where his relics are currently interred). Small world, huh.

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Apparently protogens don't like it when you use their faces as spare touchscreens.

Who knew!