#(i feel like dock's mask might be upsetting but i have no clue how to tag that lol Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[anatomical-puppet]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN it’s spooky wonders time >:) decided to put my special interest to use and draw them all as horror characters!

[characters belong to @abd-illustrates]

further elaboration on my choices and general rambling under the cut!!

alastor: patrick bateman. man i don’t even know 😭 it was the first thing i thought of and then i physically could not think of anything better. and also it made me giggle. annoying wealthy white guy, checks out enough for me. i don't think he'd like huey lewis and the news tho

dock: leatherface. i mean c'mon, he had to be leatherface. i did actually briefly consider making him pinhead because of the black leather and the fixation on pain and all that, but leatherface felt more correct. gave him the sledge because i was NOT drawing two fucking chainsaws for this. absolutely not

lorelei: carrie white. largely went with vibes on this one ngl. lorelei's obviously not nearly as sympathetic as carrie lmao, but i thought the haunted stare and the scary telekinetic powers fit for her :) also i kinda just wanted to draw her covered in blood . shrug

bandy: chucky. listen i wanted to make him a horror clown SO bad but none of them felt right :( wanted to make him a killer klown from outer space but they're so bootnasty looking and it wouldn't have carried well, and then i was debating making him tim curry pennywise but it just didn't connect well in my head. so now he's chucky :) ginger little asshole. the batteries being swapped into his hand was supposed to be a reference to the scene in the first child's play where karen realizes chucky doesn't have any batteries in, i thought that was fun. i also desperately wanted to make him the djinn from wishmaster but that was not gonna work out so i didn't even bother entertaining the concept fhdsjfhdjs

diana: pearl. country gal !!! also just thought she'd look soooo pretty in that red dress from the end, and i think pearl's energy in the scene where she's chasing mitsy felt sufficiently dianacore. diana isn't that manic obviously but u get the point. i want her to feed someone to an alligator!!!

lance: ash williams. the stupid fuckboy energy is PALPABLE, i think lance would absolutely get up to some goofy evil dead 2 hijinks omg are u kidding me. also i think if you told him that having a chainsaw hand was an option he would cut his own hand off immediately

[wanderer-of-sol]

Wanderer of Sol - Business Chapter 1

Here’s a little taste of a novel I’ve been working on in my spare time.

Chapter1

Wanderer had found himself on this table a dozen or more times before. It was dark as pitch, but he could feel the cold stainless steel work surface chill his back and fingertips through the haze of general anesthetics. Muttered and muddied words struggled to meet his ears, wading through the fog of his mind, and blackness of his vision. No amount of effort would allow him to open his eyes, or feel his face. A buzzing, burrowing sound rattled in his skull, chattering his teeth against the plastic tapping of a breathing tube invading his throat and lungs. Time passed at a trickle, and Wanderer lost track of the sounds and sensations violating his unmoving shell. Suddenly a stitch of light poured in through the darkness, in one eye. Pixels and artifacts flashed before him. It was like dreaming of meaningless text and menus as they floated into his consciousness. Nothing was in focus, not even his mind. He could hear the pulsing of life monitoring equipment and the muttering sharpened into words.

“That should do it. Let's get the other one out and replaced, then we'll work on removing the first arm. The other teams are backed up with limb enhancement, so we might as well lend them a hand, so to speak.” The voice let out a quiet half-laugh, but was calm and cold as it echoed. It had done this a dozen or more times before.

A moment later a distant frantic chirping could be heard, like a cat had snatched a sparrow from the air. Then another was caught much closer.

“Doctor, something's wrong with the anesthetic machine. The gas levels are dropping rapidly. There may be a leak!” Came another voice, as Wanderer was greeted with pounding soreness.

“Well, find the leak and replace the tank, asap! You know how hard it is to keep these things sedated!” The voice barked, as if trying to scare away the cats. It began to lose it's cool and calm tone as more and more machines started to chirp their warning alarms all around Wanderer.

As he regained feeling to his face and control over his eyes, sight came back, fuzzy in one eye. The other eye's vision was obscured with invisible shapes, and text flash by as it displayed “Initial setup” in his mind. Above him floated a familiar visage, in the reflective focusing plate of the operation light. Thin cuts bled lightly around his right eye. A portion of his light brown hair was removed, in preparation for who knew what. The only clues were the black marker on his lightly tanned skin, directing where and how to cut to the uncaring voices that scrambled around him. His beard was much longer and messier than he had remembered it being. That somehow made sense to him, as he felt like he had been sleeping for so long before waking up where he was.

The chirping grew louder and more frantic as the voices in the room, separated by curtains hanging from the ceiling and lightly muffled by medical face masks, grew louder and more frantic in turn. All attention on him was lost as he pulled the tube from his throat with a cough. Sitting on the edge of what felt like a mortuary's examination table, Wanderer's gaze drifted to what he felt was the center of the room. Something drew him there as the separating curtains started to shift and billow towards him. The only warning of what came next was the sudden flying bodies of doctors, nurses and those they worked on, along with the tables they rested on and tools used on them. They came in a wave as Wanderer's own table was lifted and thrown in turn. He sailed through the air with scalpels and bone saws as his vision was taken up by the rapidly approaching floor.

With a start, Wanderer jumped awake. It had happened like this a dozen or more times before.

“What the fuck's your problem, Wanderer?” Came a familiar voice. Wanderer's eyes focused much faster than they had for him moments ago. The girl sitting beside him was colorful in the way of a poisonous animal, but also foreboding like a raven. Her hair, or what remained of it, was trimmed into a mohawk with a blade of blue, violet and deep red down the center, and short black scruff on the sides. Her eyes were a piercing brown that burned a hole into Wanderer. Her ripped and torn clothes were stitched together to compensate for the scars of many bar brawls, dirty jobs gone poorly, and questionable fashion choices. Even in the year 2422, punk was alive and well in this woman.

“I'm fine, Munin. Just that fuckin' dream again.” Wanderer explained, rubbing his face with both hands, in attempts to brush off the grog left by his nap.

“Great. So I guess we'll be turning around and scheduling a trip for Venus soon?” She seemed annoyed to say the least.

“No, I'm good. We've got places to be and deadlines to make. I just need some coffee. Where are we?” Wanderer replied, stretching his arms in the cramped pilot's cabin. There was an audible pop and a sigh somewhere between relief and pain.

“Like, ten minutes from entering Martian atmosphere. Maybe half an hour from Sulci Gordii Port. I already called in docking with Olympus Mons air traffic while you slacked off.” The evidence of her annoyance was beginning to become clear. Wanderer didn't realized how long he had been out.

“I can take us down, if you want.” He rationed, attempting to get on her good side, but she wasn't having that.

“Nope. Go get yourself some brew. You're useless to me as a captain if you're fuckin' falling asleep.” She wasn't even looking at him any more. Her eyes were on her screen and her hands were finding the switches needed to adjust shields for entry, and line up her orbit to get them where they needed to be. “And call Gomez once you can string together a sentence without yawning. We don't have the funds to sit around in port an extra hour waiting for him to bring the fuckin' goods to the dock.” She added, before switching on the comms and confirming her landing request. Wanderer was always amazed at her ability to sound like a cold hard bitch when talking to him, but a decently sweet thing when chatting to the girl on air traffic control.

Wanderer found his way to the common area with one final yawn and discovered what looked like the coffee maker scattered out in parts across the kitchen table. Above it stood his other crew mate, with a screwdriver in one hand and a crystal pendulum draped in the other. All he could do was ask, “Ah, Robin? What's up with all this?” as his mind was still waking up.

“Oh, hey man. Uh. Well, he wasn't feeling well, so I decided to preform surgery while you were sleeping. I didn't expect it to take this long, but I dropped a screw and it rolled into the vents so I had to take apart the grav-pads on the floor to find it. And when I did, some other screws floated away. Long story short, we're about to find the source of this guy's upset tummy and I'll slap him back together in no time.” She explained while dangling the pendulum over the exploded layout of heating coils and PCB boards. To any normal person she would appear insane, but Wanderer had been traveling with Robin for a couple years now, and she was an expert in things he only had a cursory understanding in. And for Wanderer to only have a  cursory understanding in anything of the sort was rare.

“Well, that's good. Anyway, did you make a fresh pot before starting the operation?” He inquired, while wondering if there was any instant left. Or maybe tea. He wasn't picky at this point in time.

“Um, that probably would have been a good idea. Here, you can finish mine if you want.” She said, before putting the screwdriver in her teeth like a pirate holding a dagger, picking up her half drank mug and tapping it down in front of Wanderer. “Ah ha!” she let out, half muffled by the screwdriver as she took it back to her hand. The pendulum's cord pulled tight, contradicting the suggestions given by gravity, pointing directly what Robin diagnosed as a damaged connection leading to the heating coil. “Just found the problem. If you want to wait fifteen I'll have him back together and brewing a new pot.” The goggles she dawned for the surgery amplified the size and brilliance of her blue-green eyes, before she flipped down the tinted welding lenses. It's strap around the back of her head bunched her hair into random tufts of light brown. To be honest, at the moment she looked a little like a mad scientist standing over the Frankenstein's monster of a kitchen appliance.

“Thanks, I'll take yours. I've got to call Gomez in a minute.” Wanderer responded, picking up her mug and walking towards his room, away from the small flying sparks and wafting smoke.

Sipping the coffee gave him a sudden jolt of energy and clarity. It was cold and about half as sweet as he'd like, but it had a certain kick only someone like him could put their finger on. He took another sip, and swirled the remaining shallow cloud of heavily creamed coffee, revealing a peculiar set of lines at the bottom of the mug. Probably the remnants of some artificial sweetening gel, like synthesized syrup or molasses. Time to call Gomez.

“Yeah, hi. This is Jon Dillir. I spoke to you about a shipment.” The voice of “Gomez” on the other line must not have minded that Wanderer was using an alias. Dealing in such rare and potentially dangerous things often prompted Wanderer to take names like Jon, or Bill. The fact that no one knew his name could always be a boon to Wanderer. The fact that he, himself, didn't know his real name was rarely anything more than an inconvenience, even if the question did hold a weight in his mind.

“Yeah, we'll be docking shortly, and we're in a bit of a rush, so... Yeah, of course I have goods to trade as well as credits. Yeah, untraceable. You know me Gomez. We're both professionals here. I'll see you at dock thirteen in a few minutes. We'll deal in my cargo bay away from prying eyes... No I don't mind if you bring some guys. Mi casa es tu casa, Gomez.” Wanderer said as he hung up. Gomez was being a pain in the ass. The few times they had done business before had gone smoothly, if not a little tense. Gomez was new to the trade, but brought decent items to the table. Why Gomez would want to bring some extra muscle onto Wanderer's ship was unclear, but Wanderer had done business under worse stress and peril.

Chapter 2 here