#A rare moment of me making fully rendered art

[doostyaudi]

Aaaaa i love this design sm ;w; my two faves in one...

I hope i did this design justice, i just made some stylistic choices :p

Miku glisten design from @scister!

[kozachenko]

[Click for better quality]

Ok yay I'm back from my vacation yipeeeeeee. I started this drawing of Keiki before I left and I was half considering just giving up on it.... until I did a short study of facial planes and then got motivated to work on this again! I'm glad I didn't give up on it though, as I'm actually really happy with this one!

Artist's Notes;

So as I mentioned in my last post about Touhou 17, I wanted to finish this by the game's five year anniversary but with how progress was going I didn't want to rush this so I decided to take a long break from it. Mainly because of the face. For a while now I was kind of feeling like I was stagnating with my drawings, not really in the clothing but in the bodies. There was something about the way I was rendering them that I just wasn't happy with, and after talking with someone else about this issue, I realized that the reason I felt this way was because the faces were too flat and didn't match the rest of the drawing and that I needed to find a way to make the rendering of the face feel consistent with everything else. So after doing a short study of the plains of the face (I used this 3D head model from art station as a reference for my short study, please go give this person some love as they are a lifesaver) I went back into this drawing and applied what I learned here. It was only after that that I finally became motivated to finish the piece, and while it started off as just a simple character sketch like Saki and Yachie's were, the moment I added in Keiki's little fire dragon I knew I had gotten in too deep and now here we are with a full on background. OK it's not super crazy or anything, but it gets the job done and it's better than there just being an empty void behind her. It's rare moments like this when I use brushes other than the Clip Studio Default Charcoal Brush and use the Clip Studio Default Paint Brushes as well (god bless the oil paint and dry gouache clip studio brushes, they were amazing). I don't know why but painting fire has always been really fun for me, there's something oddly satisfying about it y'know? I do think that another reason for this problem was because I was drawing faces like I would in my more sketchy style that didn't mesh well with my lineless style, so I'm glad I've started remedying that.

After adding in the fire dragon I had an idea to kinda make it feel like splash art in the way the composition works... probably because I have been playing Reverse 1999 again and it has taken over my brain. I do feel like Keiki's tools get a little lost in the composition, and I didn't fully render the metal parts of them mainly because I didn't feel like they needed it, but that's just something for me to improve on later down the line.

If you guys are wondering where I went for my vacation, I went to New York and got to go to the MET and the Museum of Natural History. In both places I found Kofun period stuff and I was so happy to see it you have no idea. I remember one of the Haniwa I saw had some neat face paint under the eyes that I tried to replicate with the makeup under Keiki's eyes in my drawing, though I think I'll gave to figure out how to draw makeup on characters because this reads more like blush to me than anything. While drawing this I also looked up some references of Kofun period jewelry and really liked the stuff I found, which also meant that now she has proper Kofun earrings instead of earrings shaped like Kofun tombs. I put some of the things I referenced with a closeup of Keiki's face as well down below. I made her outfit more reminiscent of the outfit I gave her at the beginning of the year with the buttons and all, though I do want to try and draw her in some more period accurate clothing like the Haniwa I took a picture of at the Museum of Natural History. I wish I could find a way to make her handercheif look better though as I wish I made it a little bit bigger, though I think I'm saying this because I've looked at this drawing for too long lmao. Once again something to work on for when I next draw her. Also want to get better at rendering hair, as some details (like the little strands in front of her ears) kinda got unreadable due to the similarities in colour lol.

Now you may have also noticed the little cracks I added onto Keiki's face, and that's because I have fallen in love with the idea of Keiki's body being made from ceramic and that she crafted her body herself. While they aren't very visible I also tried to add some doll joints to her body, which is an idea I played around with in the past but never went to far with. I also want to get better at rendering cracks in ceramic, porcelain, etc, as I'm not sure how those read in the drawing. I also have a headcanon where the cracks in Keiki's face show up because of heightened emotions, and while Keiki is aware of this and does her best to make sure her face doesn't break off.... she will still end up with at least a few cracks during any given day, and she can often forget to repair her own body quite frequently so Mayumi has to remind her quite a lot. Mayumi even taught herself some basic sculpting techniques to help repair parts of her body that are so badly damaged to the point where Keiki can't repair them herself, i.e. if both her arms broke off, Mayumi would put them back together for her so Keiki can at least have something to repair herself with rather than nothing. I also like to imagine that if Keiki created her own body, if you took a look at Keiki from the beginning of her life she would look completely different compared to now.

BTW If you guys are wondering what a very very angry Keiki looks like....ok in order for this to make sense have any of you read volume 11 of Land of The Lustrous? Am I bringing back some memories for those of you that have? Ok good, glad we all got that mental image brewing in our minds, I'll probably draw a version of Keiki that is somewhat inspired by that one day as it's an idea I've had for a little while now. And to those who haven't gotten to that volume yet and are confused.... don't worry about it, just keep reading :)

[thevioletcaptain]

Emoji prompt! 🪼👀🎨

@carnilia Thanks for the prompt, and I'm sorry this fill took so long for me to post! I hope you enjoy the deancas ficlet & the art I ended up making to go with it :)

The Beholder

It doesn’t take long for Dean to learn that Cas is a sweet talker in the bedroom. Sometimes it’s compliments; others, it’s praise. Either way, whether they’re moving together slow beneath the sheets, or hard and fast up against a door after barely making it inside, he’s always gentle with his words.

The first time, Dean figured it was because it was the first time, and he didn’t ask. But they’re far from their first time, now.

They’ve been together almost a month, and though it’s still new in the grand scheme of things, and Dean still feels a little like he’s getting away with something every time Cas kisses him, they’ve settled far enough into something like comfort that he thinks he can bring it up.

“You called me beautiful again,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ skin, trailing the tip of his nose over his arm, and Cas hums in a questioning tone, as if to say — yes, I did, and is that alright? at the same time.

Hooking his knee over Cas’, Dean presses in closer until his belly is warm against Cas’ bare hip, and his cheek is settled against his chest, and Cas has no choice but to shift his arm to wrap around Dean’s shoulders and hold him there.

It’s easier like this. Close enough to feel secure. Close enough to get away with avoiding eye contact.

“I mean, it’s nice. It’s just…”

He trails off. It’s easier, but it’s still not easy.

“Just?” Cas asks, touching Dean’s chin until he has no choice but to tilt his face up to meet his gaze.

When he does, Cas is looking at him so patiently, so softly, that Dean is rendered weak by it. Incapable of resisting the sweetness of him, even if he is still nervous to be talking about this. He catches Cas’ hand in his own, kissing his fingertips before he settles back against his chest and lets go. Speaks.

“Just. Okay, tell me if this is— if I’m overthinking things or whatever. But it kinda… I guess I worry, y’know? That it’s one-sided.”

Underneath Dean’s cheek, Cas’ chest rumbles with a thoughtful sound as he works to understand what Dean means. Evidently, he comes up empty.

“If I didn’t know better, I might think you were saying you find me unattractive.”

Snorting a laugh, Dean shakes his head.

His fingers dance over Cas’ ribs. Smooth over his stomach. He’s so warm, and solid, and Dean’s rarely been closer to him than in moments like this, basking in the afterglow.

He’s also never felt the distance between the way they know one another quite so acutely.

“I can’t see you,” he says on a breath, like saying it quiet will make it less devastating to think about, and Cas links their fingers together on an exhale. Squeezes Dean’s hand in his own.

“Ah,” he says, and Dean’s relieved that he can tell he understands.

“And— yeah, this is your body now, and it has been for a while, and I get that, but I just… man, sometimes I really hate that I never got to see the rest of you, you know?”

“I know,” Cas tells him, and raises Dean’s hand to kiss his knuckles before lowering it back to press against his chest. “I wish I could’ve shown you, but… hm.”

Cas trails off, and Dean twists to look at him again. His brow is creased in thought.

“Hm?” Dean prompts.

“Well… I just had an idea. It’s not quite the same, but there might be a way for me to show you an approximation.”

“How?”

Cas looks down at him and smiles.

“You’ll have to be patient,” he says, which isn’t really an answer, but he pulls Dean fully on top of him as he says it, so Dean’s willing to let it slide. “It might take some time for me to get it right.”

...

It takes a few years, in the end.

More hours than Dean can count spent in a breezy, brightly lit studio next door to the Lebanon Post Office; Cas learning how to paint under the watchful eye of a woman with a seemingly endless collection of flowing, gauzy scarves, while Dean alternately reads thrifted pulp novels and hones his already halfway-decent sketching skills nearby, just because he’d rather spend this time with Cas than without, even if they’re working on independent projects.

Cas doesn’t rush ahead.

He wants to get a solid grasp of the medium, first; wants to learn to paint the physical world before he attempts the metaphysical.

Over time, the bunker fills with his paintings.

First, still life pieces that feature everything from Jack’s collection of interesting rocks, to the mixtape Dean gave him, to an assortment of produce pilfered from the vegetable drawer.

Next, pictures of Dean, of Jack and Sam and Claire, of Miracle running in the woods with her tongue lolling out of her mouth and her tail a golden blur.

Landscapes and seascapes and sprawling open skies. Insects and fish and lights on the highway.

The view from the back seat of the Impala as Dean smiles at him in the rearview mirror; the view from the passenger seat as they link hands between them.

When they eventually leave the bunker behind, handing over the keys to a younger generation and moving into a little house across town from Sam and Eileen two years after they first got together, they take most of Cas’ paintings with them, and their home above-ground becomes a gallery of his artwork.

Dean loves every single one.

He hangs them in every room, interspersed with Jack’s enthusiastic creations and dozens of photos that had, until recently, lived almost exclusively on Dean’s phone.

At Cas’ insistence, he adds a few of his own sketches to the mix. An old one he drew of Charlie — the Charlie he still thinks of as his Charlie — back when they worked that djinn case together in 2013. One of Cas standing at his easel in the studio, lips pursed in concentration. A tiny drawing of his mom not long after Amara had brought her back, scratched out on a post-it note while he’d been talking with her on the phone.

The wall over their bed has been left open, though. Cas has complained that whatever he finally produces won’t be worth such prime real estate, but Dean insists it will be by virtue of featuring the best looking guy he knows.

Cas has given up on debating the flawed logic of Dean’s argument.

It’s almost eight months after they move into the house when Cas announces that he’s ready to attempt the self portrait, and Dean can’t accompany him to the studio anymore.

“I don’t want you to see it before it’s done,” he says, uncharacteristically nervous as he twists his hands in his lap, and Dean reaches out to stop him. Weaves their fingers together.

“So I’ll stay home,” he says.

He tugs Cas’ hand when he still seems worried. Pulls him into a kiss that Cas relaxes into. Breathes into.

“Whatever you need, okay?”

After that, he comes home every day smelling of acrylics, with a kaleidoscope of color under his nails and flecked on his neckline where his smock hangs a little too low.

Some days, he spends hours at the studio, and returns frustrated and tired, and Dean pulls him into the shower to rub his shoulders and remind him that it doesn’t have to be perfect. That he should only do this if he wants to.

“I want to see you, but only if you want me to see,” he says for probably the twentieth time since Cas first offered to paint the self portrait, and just like every time before, Cas’ body goes lax under his hands. Tilts into him.

“I want you to,” he says.

The day he finally brings the painting home, loaded into the back of his truck and wrapped in a canvas sheet, he sits out in the driveway for almost fifteen minutes before Dean heads out to see what’s keeping him.

It takes almost another ten minutes of gentle pressure before Cas admits that it’s not that he’s worried he hasn’t done a good job, but that he’s halfway convinced that Dean will take one look at it — at him — and wish he’d never asked to see.

That he’s too alien. Too inhuman. Too strange.

That it will change things between them, even if Dean doesn’t want it to.

Dean doesn’t know how to comfort him; can’t find a combination of words that will convince him that Dean would love him in any form. Would love him still if he were a monster — has done, back when the Leviathan twisted him into a dark mirror of himself, and Dean had looked at him and thought we can still get through this. I just need him to be okay.

Without the words, he just shuffles across the bench seat of Cas’ truck to press his lips to Cas’ temple. Settles him. Grounds him with one hand on his thigh and the other looped around his shoulders.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he says, because even if he can’t figure out how to put a whole big speech together, he’s gotta say something, and Cas lets out a gusty breath against his neck.

“What if it’s not?”

Tapping his chin, Dean waits until Cas reluctantly turns to look at him.

“I love you,” he says, firm. He repeats it when Cas tries to look away. “Hey— I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too. I’m sorry I’m being—”

“It’s okay. I get it. But—” Dean sucks his lip between his teeth, weighing the odds that his next words will be received in the spirit they’re intended before throwing caution to the wind. “You still think I’m pretty, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Well, I’ve gotta look pretty weird to an angel, right? Four limbs, two eyes, not a feather in sight. All this pesky skin.”

“You’re forgetting that the other angels all thought I was a freak,” Cas says, though he’s starting to calm down, and Dean nudges in to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m a freak, too.”

Huffing a laugh, Cas tilts his head back against the driver’s side window to look at him.

“You’re really sure you won’t regret knowing?”

“I’m really sure.”

Cas pushes out a breath. Nods.

“Okay,” he says, and gives Dean a shaky smile. “Help me carry it inside?”

When Cas pulls the canvas sheet away, it takes Dean a moment to fully absorb what he’s looking at.

He’s seen old engravings of angels; spinning wheels of light and fire, wings and limbs and countless eyes. Looking at this, he can see how the descriptions came about when made by people who had no other frame of reference, but his first thought, of all things, is jellyfish.

Because Cas is glowing. Iridescent.

His feathery limbs float, tendril-like in the darkness, and all of his eyes are trained on Dean. Tender, somehow as they look at him; nude and at peace in the palm of a giant.

It cracks Dean open not only to see Cas, finally, but to instantly recognize such a familiar gaze on his otherworldly face.

This is Cas.

This is Cas.

“The scale isn’t exactly accurate,” Cas says, fidgeting in a way that Dean hasn’t seen him do since he got stoned with Eileen and had to admit to Dean that he’d eaten the last piece of cherry pie. “But I wanted to include you, and if I’d made our relative sizes true to life I would have needed to at least triple the size of the canvas to make you large enough to include enough detail, and—”

“Cas?”

Cas stops talking, swallowing roughly, and Dean drags his gaze away from the painting to look at him. His eyes are wide and blue and shining, and though there’s a world of difference between the figure in the painting and the one Dean’s reaching for and pulling close, he’s the same. He’s exactly the same.

“You’re beautiful,” he says. Breathes against his skin.

Turns out Dean’s been able to see him this whole time. [written for this prompt game] [cas' self portrait is rebloggable here] [posted on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[itshirohi]

𝕀𝕟𝕗𝕠 ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖!

Long overdue but... hey, here it is! Anyway, here I'm going to list my socials, specific tags to help navigate the blog and other useful crap like that :> 𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 :>

𝔸𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥:

● ʜɪʀᴏ / any pronoun works, I really don't care. ● Pixel & Digital artist (hobbyist). Making pixel art since 2020 and digital since 2023 ✌(long traditional art background though). ● I tend to hyperfixate on a LOT of things, sometimes at once so please bear with me lol. ● Main hyperfixations and fandoms I'm participating heavily in: Kengan/FOTS, Golden Kamuy, Baki and DMC . ● I also love Bleach, Dragon Ball, OPM and JJBA. ● I have a *lot* of OCs so expect to see some content of that too I suppose. ● These days mainly focusing on fanarts and my current favorite fandoms. ● Probably won't reply to a "hi" message. Please, please PLEASE tell me your reason for reaching out to me in your first message or my brain WILL automatically mark you as a potential bot/spam/scam </3 ● I accept doodle request and asks! Depending on how well I feel at the moment you might even get a fully rendered drawing O_O ● Sometimes I take breaks from posting/ socials in general. It's usually because of health issues. If you leave something in my inbox or chat, I'll get to you whenever I feel well enough to do so! ^_^

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕤:

(Note: some older posts might not be tagged with these, sorry for that @_@) ● # Hiro's art - all my art posts. ● # Hiro's writing corner - anything writing related. ● #Hiro's OCs - all my OC info and art. ● # Hiro's doodle asks - the drawings made for YOUR doodle asks! (open pretty much all the time, but it might take me some time to get to making them- I'm so sorry lol). ● # Hiro's rambles - any non-art related stuff, updates, etc. ● # Hiro's Kengan edits - this where you'll find my Kengan Ashura/Omega manga edits/animations. More coming soon! ● # AU! The Devil Weeps in the West - my DMC cowboy AU. I haven't forgotten about it, just don't really have as much time as I'd like to focus on it. More content (hopefully) coming soon!

𝕄𝕪 𝕤𝕠𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕤:

● Tumblr - (main) you're here! :D ● Twitter - (pretty much abandoned) ● Instagram - (also kinda abandoned) ● Pixilart - (pretty active) ● My commissions - idk why you'd want that, but here you are. Keep in mind I haven't done commissions in ages and might be rusty lol

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔼𝕟𝕕!

Phew... This one's a long one. I hope I covered all the most important things. Aaaanyways... Congrats in getting to the end, you're a real superstar! ✮⋆˙ As a reward, grab this super rare, shiny variant of Eugene!

[xeymol]

Woah new pinned post jumpscare.

Hello I’m pie, you can call me whatever you want tbh. pie, xey, xeymol, weird void cup, whatever as long as it’s not mean i don’t care lmao

(Used to be known as SoggyMuppet)

Commission sheet

Some important information about me:

- i am EXTREMELY nervous and shy so I apologize if I tend to be awkward with any interactions with anyone

- I may be shy but I don’t mind getting asks, I actually kinda love getting them wither it be answering actual questions or getting doodle requests

- I absolutely love and adore making gifts for people especially if I consider them a friend so gifts for others should be a fairly common sight

- I tend to go for long periods of time without posting, it’s not because I feel I need a break or because I have artblock (may possibly be the case at some point actually) but it happens because I just have a genuinely hard time getting my ideas on paper

- if you ever want to send an ask but your Nervous or I seem scary please know I’m quite harmless and I don’t mind getting asks, it may take me awhile to respond but do know It’s nothing against you and I either just haven’t checked my notifications yet or I’m just taking awhile to type my answer (possibly also drawing something to go with it)

- I am extremely apologetic so I apologize if that gets annoying, I’m just a strong overthinker and I get overwhelmed by it easily which leads to me apologizing a lot for very small thingys

- unreasonably anxious and overly sensitive, if your going to be rude to me please at least be straight up, I can’t tell if or when someone is being jokingly mean and that causes me to overthink and become stressed

- I am very forgetful, some things leave my head instantly so I need to be reminded of things multiple times

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Random Info:

- my persona is some sort of Eldritch creature made of void with a cup for their head, their name is granola

- I absolutely ADORE birds, I can’t draw them for shit but I love seeing pictures of them

- I am not funny. my humor is absolutely horrible, I try to stay family friendly on here but an adult joke might slip sometimes, though I do cuss a lot so I guess I’m not very family friendly💀

- I genuinely do not make sense half the time and when I do it’s either weird or concerning, I’ll say shit like “holy shit Freddy fazbear in portal 2 real not clickbait?!?!?!?!“ or “will skin you alive then boogie on your corpse” and other strange shit, I have something wrong with me

- I have horrible grammar and spelling, autocorrect loves to fuck me over so I’m sorry if a sentence ever comes out wrong on accident

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

My main interests right now are:

- space

- horror/body horror

- making strange critters

- a few of my personal projects

- don’t starve/don’t starve together

- regretevator

- Roblox pressure

- animal crossing

- POKEMON‼️

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

I usually make fanart for whatever fandom I’m in at the moment but there’s a rare chance I may share if stuff and or original story’s I’m working on, most of what I post is doodles but there is a rare case of fully rendered art. I might post kinda gorey or body horror and genuinely just spooky art one day and if I do I’ll definitely put a warning and try my best to tag it properly, I enjoy making sorta cutesy silly shitposts most the time and I tend to get sorta extreme with my facial expressions lol. I’ve been drawing for technically all my life really, I’m not the best but I’m very devoted to art and designing characters and story’s, my art tends to have heavy shading and overall a sort of dark atmosphere and that’s just due to my immense love for horror and spooky vibes

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Anyways that’s all I have for now, I’ll add to this if I ever have anything more I feel I should add

Goodbye for now, hope you have a lovely day/evening/night💕

___________________________________________________________________________________________________Commission status: currently open🙏

[4noki-vns]

Consummation Proof of Concept: Mid-June Art Devlog

As we hit the midway point of June, Battle Action Fantasy VN Jam (a.k.a. BAF Jam, which I am helping to cohost) is also halfway in!

I’m working on a proof of concept demo of Consummation ~wind above the dragon sea~, a yuri action fantasy visual novel, for the jam.

At the moment, the demo script is fully written at approximately 12k words and other assets are in progress.

The Consummation prototype is a solo development endeavor, so my entry to BAF Jam will be a combination of online assets and my own output. It’s been quite a while since I last solo dev-ed a game, having led teams as director, scenario writer, and character designer for my last two projects (Who is the Red Queen?, Lachesis or Atropos).

However, I prefer not to ask someone to create assets that would be scrapped and redone in the scenario that the game is elevated from prototype to active (likely commercial due to scope) project. Thus, here we are. Jack of most trades shino is on the scene.

Let’s talk about the art!

sprites

Sprites progress: ~80%

Spites are almost done! Line art is complete as is flat coloring, but I’ll have to play around with the palettes and actually render my girls.

The sprites for the demo are drawn waist up with a white outline around them. Originally, I wondered if I could get away with only flats and no rendering, but it didn’t quite match with the background assets I had.

The sprites are displayed to the right, a locational cut-in to the left if applicable, inspired by what you might call the Liar-soft Steampunk style. It’s efficient for a one man team, especially one who is not an environment artist.

(I find that there’s 2 main sides of visual novel staging: comic style and anime style, with the use of cut-ins taking advantage of how comics build mental images of scenes within their readers minds through overlapping frames—but I won’t go rambling about that for now…)

photobashing

Backgrounds progress: 100%

Backgrounds are just about all gathered.

The majority of the backgrounds in the game will be from asset packs, sources to be listed on the game page when published. Alas, as is the case always, some locations are hard to find in those packs!

Hence, I did some photobashing for a handful of places. That is to say, finding some photos on Unsplash and editing them in an image editing software, such as GIMP, to create another image.

Use the clone tool to edit out unwanted elements, overlay lots of blue, and put the image through a variety of filters such as blur, oilify, mosiac, and others until satisfied.

The end result is workable as a temporary asset in a prototype game… Rinse and repeat as needed.

I may occasionally smash up some photos as placeholders, but you probably won’t see me doing BGs often aside from the rare solo dev game where I can’t find a separate asset for a location.

cgs

CGs progress: ~10%

Not much to say here; CGs are all still in the sketch phase, so I’ll just go ahead and show you a sneak peek of the first CG:

-

To summarize the current progress:

Scenario: 100%

Art: ~50%

Scripting: ~50%

The month started strong, but unfortunately June’s a bit of a busy one for me. Here’s to making a good demo!

shino

-

As always, do subscribe to the newsletter if you enjoy these posts and would like them straight to your inbox!

[rebi-art-animation]

You've reached the Rebi Shroom art and animation blog!

[thanks for visiting]

ABOUT ME/THIS BLOG:

I'm an individual content creator. I make all sorts of things; art, animation, stories, and music. I also do commissions for all of the above, if you'd like to DM me for information, or read the bottom of this post! I'm a minor, and I use he/him, xe/xem, and e/em. I'm also autistic. You can call me Rebi!

On this blog, I post art, comics, WIPS, animation loops and animation clips. Once I learn how to make multiple YouTube channels and link it here, I'd recommend going over there.

[Speculating about my identity will lead to an immediate block.]

RULES:

I have relatively the same [at least very similar] rules on all of my blogs. For instance, some things that will not be tolerated on this blog are;

NSFW

Racism, colorism, etc. of any kind

Islamophobia, Antisemitism, etc.

Transphobia, homophobia, aphobia, etc.

Ableism

Trolling, purposefully causing conflict or controversy, political or religious debate

Exposing or threatening to expose personal information of any kind

Violence, threats, harassment

These are all very, very easy rules to follow, and anyone not following them will be blocked immediately. Don't be afraid to report this behavior to tumblr or directly to me!

LINKS/OTHER BLOGS:

I create art, animations, music, and stories. Please check out my other blogs!

@rebishroom [my personal blog]

@rebimusic [music blog]

COMMISSIONS:

These commissions are being put into place for a few reasons: In the relatively near future, I am going to escape my home situation, start college, as well as HRT (hormone replacement therapy / gender affirming care.) I currently do not have the support financially or otherwise and I'm unable to get a job at the moment. I'm very sorry if prices are high- but they are negotiable if you'd like to request adjustments to prices!

(Commission Prices Vary Upon Request. I draw just about anything. I do NOT draw explicit or sexual NSFW. DM for details.)

Flat Colors / Slight Shading

Headshots: 15 USD

Halfbodies: 20 USD

Fullbodies: 30 USD

Full character reference (fullbody front and back, headshot, any pose, and additional items / customizations): 60-80+ USD

Fully Rendered / Shaded Headshots: 30 USD

Halfbodies: 60 USD

Fullbodies: 80+ USDChibis: 15 USD

Animated Commissions:

Animated loops without background: 40+ USD

Animated loops with backgrounds: 60+ USD

Writing Commissions:

Starting price is 20 USD. Increases by 15 USD for every ADDITIONAL 1,000 words. Price does vary. If you ask for more than 5,000 words, you get free drawn chapter headers.

Message about music / song commissions and or full animation commissions. I also do Twitch templates, other designs, emotes, etc.

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[mpxmaxim]

{{tw: graphic depiction of violence}}

From the moment he saw their surroundings change to resemble an eerily dark home, Maxim knew that this nightmare would be a special one. It was rare for him to play with dreams as vivid as In-Soo’s and he would take every opportunity to make them as life-like as he could. Some might call it a cruel act for him to traumatize his victims in the most ruthless and vile way possible. The son of Phobetor would call it ‘practice’. 

Those sweet, begging whispers were music to his ears, almost addictive. Still, they weren’t enough to please him. After all, he was just getting started.

The smile on his face only faltered briefly as he watched the man retreat back and closer to the projection of himself. Unbeknownst to his victims, Maxim was only with them as something akin to a spirit and it took a combination of luck, persuasion and an enormous amount of concentration to make them believe he was real enough to touch. For a split second, a scowl flashed over his expression but was quickly replaced by a more sinister, amused grin to cover his misstep up. 

When he finally spoke, his tone might be considered casual, almost disinterested, if it wasn’t for the twisted kind of amusement he failed to mask. “I see.” For a moment, he simply watched the shadows hungrily reach for the old couple as the demons’ wretched screams and wails filled the halls, before he finally made his way over to stand a few steps behind the elderly woman and face In-soo. If he was to fully enjoy this, he wanted to see his reaction. And his new position would allow him to do so without interfering with the gruesome shadows and their own plans for torment. Not only that, Maxim had to make sure to be able to read his victim’s expression to adjust his words for just the right kind of manipulation. 

Would he have known his victim and connections better, the son of Phobetor might’ve introduced himself with a specific name, one he would’ve known to be unfamiliar to In-soo to cover his own tracks and lead him to believe that he was plotting revenge on somebody entirely different. Though, this was a risky game to play. Calling himself by a different name could result in his victims being acquainted with the original, which would make it harder for him to keep them trapped within their own nightmare.

Revealing his own name would render the careful masquerade of his cheerful expression useless and make it easier for his targets to take find him. 

Thus, he simply shrugged and shook his head, the chipper look on his face contrasting with their surroundings. 

“You can call me whatever you want. I’m just here to help you.” Lies came easy to the demigod after a lifetime’s worth of dishonesty. 

His gaze shifted to what he assumed were In-Soo’s grandparents before he took half a step back to make way for another arm to reach out to them. “Don’t you miss them? Don’t you want to see them again? Be with them?” There’s a special kind of tenderness in his voice, fake enough to be considered mocking. 

His hands clasped behind his back when the shadows finally clawed at the couple, and his smile softened as he admired their work. He resembled somebody looking at a masterpiece in a museum, making the fact that he was watching blood trickle along freshly ripped skin that much more chilling. 

“Do you remember how the air smelled when they were skinned alive, over and over again?” Maxim knew that his words were a calculated risk at best, seeing as he had no information on whether In-soo had any recollection of that day, if he even saw the spectacle happen and how the seniors got murdered to begin with. But this was the beauty of nightmares; if he could get his target to believe in his storyline, they could visualize it. This was precisely what he came to practice—the art of choosing the correct words to make someone see exactly what he wanted them to, regardless of their own memories. 

The night was quiet, a soft breeze playing in In-Soo’s curtains through his open window. He had been lucky to fall asleep quickly, the music he was listening to still coming from his phone on the nightstand, Bomi curled up against his hip.

The dreams had started as usual, sweet and gentle. Tiny bunnies playing in a field of flowers, his dolphin self jumping with the waves as Hua laughed, the sound clear as crystal. It felt nice, safe and happy, In-Soo sighing in contentment in his sleep.

Then the darkness came, slowly seeping through the corner of his vision until everything was black around him. He had no sensation of space anymore, like if he was floating in a big box void of gravity. The vet felt his throat tighten, tears raising in his eyes, ready to fall. Carefully, he sat down, finding just a bit of reassurance in feeling the ground under him, and wrapped his arms around his knees. Curled up on himself, he didn’t see the shadow approaching.

In-Soo’s head jerked up at the question and he sniffed, wiping the few tears on his cheeks away. The new presence felt strangely familiar, like and old memory coming back to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint from where. He stood, trying to recognize the stranger before him. "In-Soo… In-Soo’s my name. Who are you ? What do you want from me ?" he answered, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. There was no surprise when no answer came, only a mischievous smile seemed to reply to him.

The vet shifted in his bed, his eyebrows furrowing in a painful expression. He knew what was coming and he desperately tried to wake himself up but the darkness’ hold on his soul, on his will, was too strong. Feeling his distress, Bomi bumped her head against his hand, meowing softly. But even her softness wasn’t enough to help.

The dream’s man talked again, sending a cold sweat down In-Soo’s back. His mind knew it was a trap but he still turned around and hopelessly watched as the darkness turned into the familiar hallways of his family house. The pictures on the wall, the small pedestal table with his mother’s favorite bouquet of lavender, everything was a he remembered, down to the scent of tea and fresh yakgwa.

When his grandparents appeared, smiling at him, In-Soo retreated, his back crashing into the man’s chest. He could only watch in horror as shadows came out of the walls, grinning at him, their long arms reaching for his family.

"Please no" he whispered, chocking on new tears. "Please don’t do that, please… No."

[retphienix]

Persona 5 Royal.

Hm.

I think even with the newform of post shortening I'll read-more this, so let me get a gist out of the way.

This easily became one of my favorite games. It's on the list, it's embedded in my mind, it's granted me interesting plot lines and characters and it's quickly given me something I'm happy to love.

There's the gist; And the elephant in the room is that I got a smile out of the mysterious glance at what appears to be Akechi in the background, that's fun.

Now to say.

Much.

I'll try to separate different thoughts with a header of sorts because this is gonna be a mess.

This game is honestly pretty incredible.

I feel like this is a weird way to start this out but, I didn't expect to so quickly play an RPG that so enraptured my mind and heart after DQ11.

I've played a ton of games that have touched me in various ways, but it's rare for me to play one that so thoroughly entrenches itself in the miasma of experiences that make up who I am; Just finds my core and sets up shop. Offers a mirror, offers challenges, offers a shoulder, and plenty more.

Playing a game like that isn't common; It's a matter of having something to say, or do, or show, and it's a big matter of personal bias.

It's just how art can hit ya, or miss entirely. Sometimes you find one that stops you in your tracks and you dwell on it for years after.

Despite playing a lot of games, I, and I assume most others, don't play games that hit that note too often.

It's rare.

I've played so many games I would happily recommend for being phenomenal in their own ways, but that list isn't fully comprised of titles like that.

When I played DQ11 I found myself with a story so dense with things I appreciate that it took over my mind for months. It's still left quite the impact, being a title that can easily bring a happy tear to my eye if I dwell on it too long as I find what they've told to be such a beautiful heroes' tale.

Persona 5 has hit that same deep place in my mind, and, in the grand scheme of things, so quickly after I just found a different title that did the same.

And this isn't by any means a ramble on how P5 is perfect; Far from it because that doesn't exist and because it was created by people- people aren't perfect- people don't make perfect things.

Just in the way of cultural differences and personal morals there are things in P5 that I simply believe weren't handled as well as they could have been, be that gay characters, flip flopping on whether sexual assault as a subject deserves respect or laughs, or the ways in which relationships with minors and adults are presented and treated.

While conversely at least some of these faults could be argued for by virtue of life itself not being perfect, but then it becomes a matter of what is your art's morality; What is it trying to say, and is it being presented because it's true to life, or because it's titillating, silly, or something a creator believes to be right.

I digress.

This is a ramble on how what P5 is is something extremely special to me. And an incomplete one at that, as I couldn't possibly revisit every important moment in this 236 hour (inaccurate*) long story on a post made at a whim at the end of said playthrough.

*= I was AFK a lot, and my gameplay included a lot of rendering video, it wasn't this long but my save sure was lol.

I don't (currently, maybe I should) keep notes of my playthroughs- the posts themselves are catalogues of my thoughts at each time. The finale post is more to sum up where my heart lands me, not to substitute a well rehearsed and scripted video essay.

I guess that makes this even less than an essay- it's just a ramble, lmao.

Let's start with the end because it's so fresh.

I'd say what I understand to be the base game ending (I'm assuming it's just the previous god going) was bombastic, exciting, and even had the bite of the metaverse disappearing and Mona potentially dying. I fucking adore that.

The ending of Royal is a lot more clean... and reminds me of something I already mentioned lmao.

Spoilers for DQ11 skip to next red text:

but both include a Perfect ending and a Broken But Hope Filled ending but inversely placed in the story.

DQ11 ends on the Perfect ending, with the weight of knowing you created the Broken But Hope Filled ending and effectively killed yourself out of that ending to create the perfect ending.

The point of it all being that you did the best you could for the world, then found a way to try to do even better for another cursed world (parallel timeline shenanigans), so you sacrificed the life you've fought for, and the relationships you've forged to 'try again'. The Perfect ending in this case IS perfect, just not for the Hero. They gave everything up for this as a sort of ultimate sacrifice.

P5R ends on the Broken But Hope Filled ending and you spent the last dungeon literally killing the Perfect ending because you refuse to give up the relationships you've forged and the meaning you find in the struggles you're lives have experienced.

I find that interesting. (continued but not spoilers anymore)

Royal's ending is bittersweet. We're saying goodbye (THAT SUCKS), the metaverse is (I believe) gone again- but that sting isn't as bad since it's already done that before, Akechi is 'dead' but he simply doesn't compare to Morgana who was a true friend through the entire game, and we gave up a utopia to get this.

The entire moral that lead us here is literally golden in my book- I appreciate the insistence that our experiences hold value, including the negative ones as we grow from them. But I think as far as ending on a bang or whimper it's a lot less flashy than the base ending seems to have been assuming assumptions assumingly on what that is lol.

Basically, I think base had a better ending, but Royal had more to say and what it had to say was very good in my book, it just then had to end and kinda went "Uh, then we ended, shit."

I still teared the hell up multiple times doing my Earthbound walk about in the post game. And I still wish desperately that I got to get closer with Yusuke and Haru.

AH I love all the damn characters so much.

I feel I've said it all on these fuckers, I love these dunces and they are the best. The party is one of the absolute best out there- it's truly a crew you WANT to be in, you want to go hang with these guys at a ramen place, you want to go hang at a library because one of them needs help with something, you want to go wander the shops with them, you just want to be friends with absolutely all of the party members (maybe not Akechi in the later game when he actually joins the party but that's a whole other complicated goof).

It's an accomplishment to go and create so many likable and befriendable characters- I love em.

And the side characters and confidants are just a fantastic eclectic group- I'm being so vague simply because due to how P5 is formatted, I'd argue 99% of my posts are just me talking about the characters because you GET to do all these things with them. You GET to go to the movies and study and hang at the baths- so I've said all there is, I'm sure.

But I love them. <3

Another thing I've talked plenty on already but is worth mentioning in this finale post is that fantastic gameplay

I literally can't expand on it much in one post so I'll leave it simple.

It's flashy, it's EXTREMELY involved, it's combo heavy in a fantastic way (and with multiple avenues for combos!), and the worst I can say about it is that on Normal difficulty it became exploitable pretty early on and didn't really challenge directly much until the end, but, difficulty is not the end all of the gameplay's quality.

You want to feel involved and challenged in *some* way (if not direct difficulty), and I felt both of those things- just without much risk of failure. Arguably- ARGUABLY- that's damn near perfect. But for preference, I'd have preferred a slightly harder time- more HP on enemies and more risk of losing- but this isn't a complaint- it's a recognition that I will probably highly enjoy replaying on a harder difficulty :)

Simplifying the entirety of the gameplay to combat would be a crime though because this game was also half life sim, and quite an enthralling one at that. Hell, half isn't enough, MOST of this game was life sim, and I loved it so much more than I thought I would.

It also kinda screwed me a bit because I LOVE reading everything I have access to at any given moment.... and this meant a metric ton of reading every day, sometimes accomplishing next to nothing.

You could easily do all the things I did in this game in like 10 hours of gameplay, but it took me 23 times that because I would regularly take trips EVERYWHERE to seek out new NPC dialogue that added nothing to the game itself but was quintessential to my experience.

Loved it.

And before I close for good on this playthrough, I want to just speak some appreciation towards some of the morals and themes in here.

Not all, I'm stupid (for one), and tired (another), and some fucked up third thing as well so just a couple that I feel like talking about.

For one, RIDICULOUSLY big fan of the personal justice angle. It lent itself to so many narratives about the problems with the world from the angle of these things being normalized, expected, or accepted by society at large- but that doesn't mean we should accept them and stop trying to make things better.

It's just a solid theme to build around and it tied itself to the motivations of our characters so damn well with many of them being upset at how Adults handle the world or mistreat others and seeking to make things better.

Also, if the like 8 times I brought it up didn't make it clear, a big fan of the strength of kindness in the Akechi - Joker storyline. It's really a show of how Joker's refusal to turn his back on others, even people as, to be frank, shit as Akechi with his murder fun time nonsense, is literally what grants Akechi his moment of redemption.

That murder kid really tried to turn self sacrifice into a selfish move for personal revenge, and Joker's refusal to be insincere to him left Akechi stunned as his motivations were changed in real time right before he died- that's just a fun narrative, man.

And while I think it made the stakes feel less "scary" than the prior chapter, I really do enjoy how Maruki was our final baddie since he's quite literally a goodie.

It offered a completely different angle to challenge the PT's morals and allowed us to end on a narrative about the worth of our whole life experience rather than a narrative on defeating evil, it was honestly a really good choice in my book.

And I suppose that wraps up this mindless ramble.

To close I just want to say, I fuckin' love this game. It's a favorite now, as I've said.

I'd also like to say I'm surprised that getting to the post game wasn't as demanding as I was initially lead to believe.

I had been lead to believe, since launch of Royal, that this game was some weird "Do it perfectly or you're fucked" kind of game.

I avoided playing Royal for YEARS, because I thought I'd HAVE to shove a guide down my throat in order to experience half the game.

But as it turns out the Royal content is rather short, all things considered. And the requirements are MILES less intense than I was lead to believe- like- MILES. I thought you needed all confidants or else, like, it's not that hard lol.

Getting a perfect run on a blind run is a bit rough, but even that isn't remotely out of the cards if my playthrough is anything to go by.

And on whether / when I'll play more; Now that I've seen the credits, I'm not sure.

This playthrough was.... strange for me. When I pick a game up for the blog I usually stay pretty consistent with it. I've had flubs here and there over the years, but this might be the single most disjointed playthrough I've ever done- with months of no updates multiple times throughout just because of where I was outside of playing.

But because of this, I've basically been playing this game for 8 months. That's a long time to be on one single player game that I think a few weeks coulda done.

Kinda want something else. But my desire to play through on a harder difficulty, on NG+, and to get a perfect end to my playthrough with all confidants maxed remain.

Part of me wants to just jump right back in- especially since very very little of it would "need" (I do this for fun lol) to be blogged about in the first place, but a lot of me wants to sit this on the shelf and come back later in life.

And a lot of me also worries that doing that might table it too long, as I table many things and then decide new experiences trump them.

This game has the benefit of being one of my all time favorites now, so it's less likely, but I mean. FFT is an all time favorite. Doing modded runs of that for the blog has been backlogged for years. I don't want to put replaying P5R off that long at all.

But enough idle worrying in my game diary.

I am going to play something else for a while. That's my current plan. Mostly because that whole mishap with myself that caused this playthrough to be so disjointed is very much still a struggle- so I don't want to dive into a full new playthrough that's just as disjointed.

I might set a date for myself; Come back in a year's time perhaps. I have nothing set in stone. But I want to replay this. Harder difficulty, NG+, perfect confidants. I want that.

We'll find out when.

In the mean time I'm going to bask in the post-game joy of this phenomenal title.

I'm grateful for the opportunity.

And thank you to all who saw fit to interact through this playthrough- I doubt many would get this far into this nonsense post to see said thanks, but I'm sending that out there into the world all the same.

This was a ridiculously positive gaming experience in terms of the game, and a pleasure to chat with some fans.

Everyone, have a good one :)

[retrograde-orbit]

since we're about to hit the end of the year soon, and since i've been too busy with dev work to draw much recently, i've been putting some of my thoughts together on my relationship with art, social media, and all that.

like a lot of kids, i did some drawing and painting during my middle and highschool years. unlike a lot of kids, i was homeschooled. not having a social circle to pick up interests from meant two things: i rarely had to deal with people on a day-to-day basis unless they were my family (yay), and my life felt very boring (not yay). the art subjects, and being forced into a dichotomy of acrylic and watercolor as my main options, did not help.

it took me until the middle of college to start drawing for real. that year was the start of a lot of things for me, and tbh a big part of it was simply having other people that i didn't mind being around, even if i never truly connected with them. anyway, i made some assets for a tabletop game, and at that point i was following enough artists to know at least vaguely the kinds of things that i wanted to draw.

if i look at my files, i've been drawing for a bit over 2 years now. and there's undoubtedly a lot of improvement from when i started (i can only stand to look at like 2-3 drawings from back then, aside from the studies).

i do still want to go back to painting things like this eventually, but for the life of me i cannot figure out how to render a character or a full scene like this.

anyway, that's year 1. i started posting some stuff to twitter, and did mostly fanart or studies where i could find the time. i definitely noticed that i had a bit of an unhealthy relationship forming already with social media (i may not be diagnosed with ADHD, but the way notification indicators make me behave is a big reason i suspect i have it). i also started to fall off of drawing fanart of large, popular vtubers because, well... i'm not sure actually. the artificial interaction inflation from a vtuber fanart is definitely one part of it, but i also started to make friends within an indie vtuber's fanbase/friend circle which made me realize i was being a bit parasocial about one or two larger vtubers and hit the brakes there.

also, this was from an event from an art server where we did blind/telephone style chara design iteration off a picture of jewelry, and that opened my eyes to how much fun having an OC can be compared to being constrained by an existing design. (i do still have issues with fanart because i don't entirely understand how to adapt an existing design to my style the first few times i draw it.)

now, to take a slight detour, all this was happening on twitter or discord. i had used tumblr back in the day, but i barely posted anything and never really kept up with the popular stuff happening. until recently it was also still sort of weird memories because i never the friend group i had from back then... not going into detail, but there are some interesting types out there, and we all kind of grew apart until the group fractured and just sort of fell apart.

coming back here to start posting, even if all i have at the moment is reposting older art, is super comfortable and a bit nostalgic. that return also fell at a time where i had time and a proper idea for updating my personal site, and i do think that i'll be implementing a bit of a blog there as well. i don't mind getting personal on social media, but it's impossible to do easily on twitter and even here i'd prefer to never get notified that people i don't know interact with my more personal posts.

so that sort of brings the story to the current year. having a job makes it pretty hard to keep up with the friends i've made the way i want to, but i don't see myself ever going fully freelance because of how easily i burn out from outside pressure to create. i have a few OCs that i want to continue to flesh out, and i think my main goal for the near future is to evolve my art more with their designs until i can really say i like my ability to render a character and a scene at the same time (i have some ideas, but i need the time to tackle them, and to do a lot of studies).

next year, i want to focus on streaming at least a couple times a month after i get some graphics finished (or even before, and just work on those on stream). i want to just get a lot better at art. illustration is a lot of fun once i can get out of the sketch phase, and i also have dabbled a bit in animation, but 3D is also on the table for game dev purposes and also just character modeling (it's really cool i want models of my OCs and i'm a very DIY kind of person). oh and VR too.

basically, i guess next year is my year to push for being a little more "self-sufficient" and also self-indulgent, i suppose. also been picking up the guitar again recently, and might be buying a bass soon. the more time i spend having fun/working on things and the less time i spend looking at socmed notifications, the better it is for me.

[fericita-s]

The Princess and the Barbarian

A Helnik tale, rated T.  As Matthias recovers from a gunshot wound, Nina tells him the story of the Princess and the Barbarian. He interrupts a lot as his Fjerdan sensibilities are bothered and the Ravkan propaganda gets to be unbearable.  Thank you @theburnbarreljester​ for beta-ing and for reminding me that we’re all here for the biting and trembling of lips.

Previous Chapters

Chapter 6

Inessa studied the landscape from the edge of the cave.  She could see endless green sloping hills, the curved slice of a river, and the rocky path that led to her place of captivity.  Her bound wrists were staked to the rocky ground of the cave and she could loosen the metal and slide out of the chains.  She usually did for the first hour the barbarian was gone each day.  But as the sun moved to the center of the sky, she knew it best to chain herself again and stay inside the wide, hard-packed confines of the cave to keep her ability to escape a secret.  He seemed to think her powers were limited to fabrics and she didn’t want to alert him on what exactly she could do.  She’d leave as soon as she knew where she was and had something better on her feet than her ruined dancing shoes.

Her best guess was that the barbarian had her in the woods near Halmhend, well into Fjerdan territory.  She’d have to cross either the Permafrost to get to Chernast or go south through the forest to Ulensk to make it back to Ravka.  If she escaped through the ice, she was likely to lose fingers or worse on the journey.  And the nightly shrieks and howls from the wolves coming from deep within the woods were enough to make her long for even the barbarian’s comfort. 

He rarely gave it.

On the first night he’d told her to stop her weeping for the dead with a harsh “The dead can’t hear you mourn but the living can.  I might not be able to save you from the wolves or my countrymen if they come in force.”  Then he’d made her burn her only remaining item of clothing and as the chemise went up in flames he’d given her his roughspun shirt. It still bore his scent even weeks later though she probably could have fabrikated that away if she wished.  It felt like armor, being surrounded by the smell of the tundra and the smoke of campfires, even the trace of his sweaty musk.  Like the volcra or the howling wolves or enemies she might find in this land would pass over her if she was disguised in his shirt and scent.  It was a small comfort, but she clung to it.  When he was off hunting or asleep she liked to run the fabric between her fingers, to run her hands underneath where the coarse material hit her thighs, not quite mourning that she’d never had a wedding night, but curious about what it would feel like for this barbarian to make her fully his.  

He stayed bare chested in the cave and Inessa studied him like works of art she’d seen at the Grand Palace.  He had cords of muscle along his arms and across his chest and his back was made up of hard planes that she surprised herself by wanting to run her hands across, to feel if Ravkan and Fjerdan bodies were made the same. 

Once he’d thrown an elk carcass at her feet and demanded she cook and clean it, but she’d retched instead.  Disgusted, he prepared the meat himself and then ate with an intensity and such a lack of decorum that Inessa stared, horrified and transfixed. He fed her too, bringing a jeweled goblet of mead to her lips and calling her “princess” in a way that was very different from the servants at Os Alta, like he was mocking her for being so useless.  

He’d spent the next few days rendering the fat and making soap, stripping and treating the hide, drying the remaining meat in long strips.  She’d watched it all without offering to help, but unable to look away from the way his arms looked while ripping bone from sinew, how the steam off of the cook fire made his long hair curl at his temple. 

The cave was primitive but did have some comforts.  She slept on what she assumed must have been his bed - a pile of furs and a hay pallet - while he slept by the entrance of the cave with his back to her. There were goblets like the one he offered her at meal times and stacks of animal pelts and barrels of mead and kvas arranged neatly against the side of the mountain.  

Every night before he moved her chains to the bed and tied her there instead of the middle of the cave he asked about the Shadow Fold.  He called her witch, he called her an abomination, he called her a privileged princess who didn’t know the havoc that such evil invited into the midst of the living. And each night she told him she had no idea how it was formed, who formed it, or how to extinguish it.  She wanted to yell “It made me a widow and an orphan! Don’t you think I know the cost?” but cried silently instead, fabrikating the furs into the same soft heaviness as her quilts in the Grand Palace.  Each morning she turned it back to fur, knowing he’d make her burn what he found changed.

She walked back into the cave and recited her daily prayers to the saints, beseeching them to safekeep her brother The Emperor and his wife and children.  To keep the volcra confined to the Shadow Fold and to banish it forever.  To see her in her suffering and give her a way to return home. 

She heard the barbarian’s heavy footsteps behind her and then his voice, angry and rough.  “What spells are you muttering, witch?”

“I’m saying prayers for my family.  I can pray for you too if you’d like.”  She turned to look at him and he scowled. 

“I’ll take none of your prayers. Only Djel is the true maker and god.”

“You were gone longer today.  Where did you go?” she asked, hoping he might mention the name of a town or a river that would help her figure out where they were, how she could leave.

“I was buying you this,” he said, throwing a bundle at her.  “You can only have it if you promise not to alter it.  No magic that would attract the volcra or widen the Shadow Fold.”

She began to unwrap the fabric strips and shook out the material inside.  “It doesn’t work like that, fabrikating doesn’t -  but then she stopped, struck by the absurdity of what he had given her.  “This is a Fjerdan dress.”

“Yes.  It is.  Because you are in Fjerda.  And because it is not proper for you to be wearing only my shirt as the days begin to turn colder.”

Inessa let one hysterical giggle leave her throat.  That was what he found improper? Her wearing his shirt?  He’d kidnapped her from her family and had her chained in a cave.  And now he wanted her to wear the dress of a Fjerdan woman.  She wished she’d studied their customs more closely, she might have been able to guess which town this was from based on the embroidered hem or the silver buttons on the sleeves. But then, another idea took form.

“If you want me in a new dress, please, let me bathe first.  It’s been weeks.”  Perhaps she could glimpse more of the terrain, gain a better understanding of where she was and how she could leave.

He looked at her for a long moment, a flicker of something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before.  “Alright.  I’ll take you to where the beavers have made a dam.”

He unchained her from the ground but kept her hands bound, which meant she stumbled as she picked her way across the rocky path.  He walked behind her, catching her under the elbow when she lost her footing and once grabbing her waist when she pitched towards the edge of the cliff.  New clothes would help her in an escape attempt, but unless she had better shoes she wouldn’t get far.

The small pond created by the dam was clear and cold and Inessa gasped as she put her foot in. “Will you unchain me? So I can bathe?”

“No.” He thrust a chunk of the elk fat soap into her hands, a hard glint in his eye.  “I will bathe you.”

She looked at him just as fiercely and then pulled his shirt over her head, shimmying awkwardly around the chains, so that she was standing bare before him with the shirt bunched up over the restraints and the tightly clutched soap.  He pulled a knife out of its sheath by his waist and cut the shirt away from her.

“I’ll burn this tonight.  Get rid of the witchy stench.”

Inessa was horrified to feel the prick of hot tears in her eyes as she stood naked in front of him, listening to the same insults he’d thrown at her daily.  She turned and walked into the water, biting her lip against the cold and then submerging herself fully, trembling as soon as she surfaced for air with her eyes closed.  She wiped at her eyes with her bound hands and then the barbarian was there, holding her head in his hands and using his thumbs to wipe the water from her eyes. 

 The water and his words were cold, but everywhere his hands touched her felt hot.  He was still warm from their walk to the dam and she could feel it radiating off of his bare chest as he ran his hands along her forearms and then her upper arms and shoulders.

“I should not have brought you here to defile these waters.  All waters feed Djel and are fed by him.  We drown witches in these waters for his glory.”   He rubbed his fingers in between hers and then scrubbed at her fingernails with his and she was acutely aware that he’d shucked his pants and boots and was as bare as she was. “But we have a saying, the water hears and understands.  The ice does not forgive.  Djel will forgive me for this transgression; it is in the service of keeping his people safe from your magic.”

“I don’t need you forgiveness, or that of the ice, either,” she snapped, shivering.  The water was icy cold and with his words came the sensation that she was being drowned in them.  

He took the soap from her and rubbed it over his hands until he formed a lather and then carefully slid his fingers under the chains around her wrists.  He scrubbed her gently and silently and she tried to control her gasping breaths by calling to mind memories of home.

“My mother’s soaps smelled of lavender,” she said and he grunted in response.  “For her evening baths.  Jasmine if it was in the morning.”  She closed her eyes again, trying to remember the scent of it, the way it felt comforting and certain.  The way it meant her mother was near and she was loved.

“Are Ravkans so dirty that they must bathe twice a day?”  Her eyes flew open and she scowled.

“You're the barbarian!  You haven’t bathed since well before you stole into Ravka, I’d wager.”  She shivered and he dropped her hand.

“I’m bathing now aren’t I?” He handed her the soap and then went under the water.  He emerged with his back to her and she watched as droplets of water ran down his back.  His long hair was dripping and darker now that it was wet and he soon had it in a lather.  He went under again then rose towards her, reaching for her chained hands and pulling her to himself.  He took the soap from her, worked to make suds, and then buried his fingers into her wet hair.  

It felt exquisite.

He scratched at her scalp and then down to the base of her neck and onto her shoulder blades, rubbing more soap along her back and down towards the curve of her bottom.  She closed her eyes again and gave herself over the sensation of being made clean as his hands explored new places: her thighs, her ankles, a palm across her breasts that made her gasp and bite her lip again.  He held her elbow as he dipped her under the water and when she emerged free of the filth and blood that had clung to her for weeks, she felt new. 

He gave her a blanket to wrap herself in and they sat on the rocks at the edge of the dam watching the dying light of the sun as it edged closer to the horizon across the vast Permafrost to the west.  They were farther east then she’d realized.  Perhaps close to Chernast.

His hair was drying quickly and he ran his hands through it, tugging at knots in the golden strands.  He looked young like this, perhaps even as young as she was.  She might have offered to braid his hair, but her hands were shaking from the cold annd her own wet hair and she wasn’t sure what she’d do if her hands were in his hair.  Strangle him?  Rub it between her fingers and press her face against it? Both seemed like a good idea.

“We leave now.  Before it gets dark.”  He pulled his clothes on but she made no movement to put on the dress he’d given her.  She definitely couldn’t manage it with the chains and even if she wasn’t chained, she’d only ever been dressed by lady’s maids.  

He turned as he finished pulling up his pants and used his chin to point to the dress.  “Put it on.”

“I can’t do it like this,” she said, raising her arms and showing him the chains.  

He was silent as he walked to her and picked up the dress, separating it into three pieces and a pair of pantalettes that fell to the ground.  He knelt down and held the layered skirts open and she stepped into them, stumbling into his chest as she lifted her leg.  Her loose, wet hair encircled his head and he drew back as if stung. He rose and then turned her so her back was to him and cinched the ties at her waist, looping them roughly into knots. Then he spun her and undid the chains around her wrists with a key from his pocket.  

“Steady now.  Put your arms through.”  He helped her into the bodice and then the woolen vest that covered it, his fingertips skimming the exposed skin at her waist before he drew the laces closed and tied them as well, his head bent over his work and inches from her chest.  

“What’s your name?” she asked, like he was a new lady’s maid and she’d have to remember his name for when they repeated this routine in the morning before a gilded mirror and a porcelain washbasin.  

“Iver.”  He picked up the pantalettes and bent down to one knee as he held them for her to step into.  She placed her hands on his shoulder.

“Thank you for the dress, Iver.  And for the bath.  My name is Inessa.”

“I know,” he said and then chained her hands once more before he stepped away from her, walking towards the path that had led them here.  “It will be dark soon.  Best leave now.”

She followed him back to the cave in silence.  He built a fire and cooked a rabbit and he asked the same question he asked every night.  And even though her answer was the same, everything changed.

“Inessa, do you know anything about the darkness that made the fold?  About the fold itself?”

“No, Iver.  I don't.”  

He looked at her across the flickering light cast by the fire and she thought of how much the shadows it cast looked like the volcra.  How the red flames looked like the bright bursts of blood she’d seen the day of the volcra attack.  He moved to her slowly and then reached for the chains at her wrists, undoing the lock and then rubbing her wrists as the heavy links fell away.  Inessa looked at his hands on hers, so large and now so gentle, and when he pulled away and stood, she wanted to reach out and draw him back down.  She wanted to touch every inch of his skin, to know the way each cell melded together, to feel him as he joined with her, to understand the making of him.

“There.  You sleep like that now,” he said, and then stalked off from the cave and into the night.

[algernoninwonderland]

Hi i rlly like ur blog and ur takes!!, whats your fav episode of ml?

Hi! Thanks! It may not look like it, but Miraculous isn't a show I that I hate, because I don't tend to watch shows that I hate unless I really want to rip them to shreds. Which requires some intellectual honesty, so I need to watch everything so that I can discuss everything.

Miraculous is a show that frustrates me, because I actually like quite a few episodes! So giving you only one answer is going to be super hard. Would two-parters be considered as one episode? Who knows. I'll try to give you two answers for each season, and my favourite season 4 episode this far.

So, season 1! It was a fun one, there are very few outright bad episodes, it was a very promising one overall!

Stormy Weather

It is, to me, the best season 1 episode, and maybe the best episode of the show proper. It's basically all of what Miraculous can be, condensed in twenty-two minutes, and while it also includes some of the show's flaws, they are rather minor here.

The storyboarding is stellar, the use of shot composition is genuinely terrific and so is the visual storytelling in general, the character acting is brilliant, the rendering is the best the show has ever gotten, the lighting is so expressive, they make full use of the show being 3DCG by moving the camera around in ways that make sense rather than having it spin around stupidly and meaninglessly as would often be the case later on. The character writing is really effective, so that, by the end of the episode, you know who these characters are, and you've got a few ideas of where the show could be going next and you find yourself wanting more. It establishes the storyworld and the basic character dynamics in a very efficient way and it made a strong impression on me. This is how you make a pilot episode.

The Origins two-parter.

It's the proof that the show can attempt character arcs and continuity and be good at it, and make the Love Square actually appealing and not a somewhat annoying gimmick. It captured what falling in love as a teenager actually feels like, and that's an impressive feat I've rarely seen anywhere else. Thank Étienne Guignard for the Umbrella Scene, he's the one who boarded it (he went on to work on some of the best sequences in Steven Universe: Future). Back then, “they're made for each other” made actual sense and didn't make me want to turn off the show. It's a satisfying two-parter.

Moving on to season 2! Which also did tons of interesting things which made up for less competently-written and animated episodes.

Dark Owl

Worldbuilding revolving around civilian characters? In my episode of Miraculous? It's a rarity but we love to see it! It's a very fun one, the pacing is great and M. Damoclès' Knightowl cosplay/Batman fantasy actually makes a lot of sense and is very entertaining. The Love Square interactions in this one are great, that bit of reveal for the kwamis actually felt impactful, something actually happens to M. Damoclès once he's been deakumatised and what caused his akumatisation in the first place is being addressed and solved. It's very enjoyable! Just thinking about this one makes me smile.

Riposte

I like sabre fencing. I like perfectionist “gifted” kids crushed by parental pressure who put on a front of coolness but are still just kids underneath. So of course I liked Riposte and I loved Kagami from the very start. The fencing animation is good, they get the timing and poses right, the rendering is actually pretty great for this one too. It makes sense that Marinette would behave this way and have such a strong bias against that other fencer, even without knowing that it's Kagami. It's not without its flaws, the reveal that “it's actually a girl and she's cute, and could this be a rival for Marinette?” annoys me, and “she's Japanese, therefore that whole Samurai BS, in the year of our lord 2017” makes sense considering who her mother was but we could only make inferences back then, also it doesn't make it any less orientalist bullshit. Nevertheless, it's an episode I really quite enjoyed.

Moving on to season 3!

It's my least-favourite season so far. Doesn't mean there aren't good moments in it. I would put Oblivio on this list if not for the last two minutes which are, if you'll pardon my French, utter dogshit that makes me hate what they're doing with Chat Noir, it kind of ruins everything. Because the rest of the episode is genuine fun, like, actually genuinely fun and then this shit happens. Desperada could be a good Adrien episode but it's disguised as a Luka episode and it's just not very memorable. Most plot-heavy episodes have very mediocre execution and questionable creative choices that make me frustrated with a lot of them.

Chris Master

It doesn't get talked about a lot, and I understand why, but I also really like this one. The art direction is fun and reminiscent of A Town Called Panic, one of my favourite Belgian cartoons ever, which uses real toys and stop motion. The animation is lovely, the show remembers that Marinette is a fashion designer for once. Chat Noir is fun. The akuma is fun. It's just a fun time overall! Sometimes, you just want to watch giant toys and weird flying fish and Miraculous delivers on that.

Ikari Gozen

Hate the orientalist BS, hate that they're doing the whole Samurai spiel in, wow, 2019, but aren't actively disproving it by having other characters not buying into that. These are the only two Japanese characters in the show for crying out loud. Hate that Kagami is still wearing a school uniform for no good reason, even when doing kendo. Despite these flaws, Ikari Gozen is great, for both Marinette and Kagami. It has some of the strongest character writing in this show and I didn't expect that.

Moving on to season 4! But you probably know what my favourite episode so far is, it's the same as everyone else's.

Gang of Secrets

It's not perfect, not by any means, but it does so many things right that I can't help but like it. It builds on everything the show has been so far, and it's a very gratifying experience for the viewer. Continuity gets to play a major role for once. Alya finally gets to be a fully-realised character again, the show stops treating sadness like a fashion accessory and actually does something good and clever with the theme of its episode. And most of everything clicks together in a way that delivers in terms of emotional payback. This episode is a game changer. I hope there will be other episodes like that in season 4.

[wyrmzier]

Ed reads bad yaoi so you dont have to: ep.4: Angel Buddy

Angel Buddy is an ongoing Korean manhwa written by MasterGin and illustrated by Chungnyun. TW: discussion of death. Contains spoilers

Requested by @kami-no-ikari

Disclaimer: I generally dislike and detest the creation of yaoi due to its history of fetishizing mlm and often sexual assault but this one so far is very good :)

Art: at first I was neutral on it but it slowly grew on me. It has a pastel color palette and is rarely fully rendered except for breath taking moments. Facial expressions are very cute but not as diverse as some of the other stories I've reviewed. 10/10

Summary: Suho (sometimes spelt sooho) is a 19/20 year old university student who can see ghosts. He is generally disliked for seeming odd and "gloomy" by his peers. [Disclaimer: the opening scene seems to be a "sexy" scene which can put you off at first but so far there hasn't been any outright sex in the 27 chapters] one day he notices an angel lingering around. Then a small bird steals his wallet, Suho accidentally breaks it's wing, suprise it's an angel! Teiko (or Taker in any English translation)

Seems to be a powerful yet oddball angel, outcasted by his peers for his weirdness. He takes a liking to Suho and sticks around until his wing heals. Angels collect the souls of dead humans with their books of life and death, Teiko lost his, and to heal he needs to take a soul, this has yet to happen. Suho has a very powerful soul, another angel recklessly attacks Suho and tampers with the book of life and death to do so, Teiko saves him. Suhos family friend and essentially sister: Jia, her grandmother is sick in the hospital, the grandmother was essentially also Suho's grandmother. Her death is hard hitting and done in a very touching manner. Teiko helps Suho work through her death. They begin to bond and Suho starts to develop feelings for Teiko. Ch. 15 was incredibly awkward, Suho takes him on a date and gets drunk and starts stripping but promptly blacks out before anything can happen.

Or as Teiko puts it:

This makes Teiko realize he may also have some feelings. Suho and Teiko visit Suho's older brother Hyung, Suho and his brother bond, Suho and Teiko fall more in love yaay. BACK AT UNI a new student arrives who can also see ghosts! Dojin

Dojin seems to like Suho and Teiko begins to feel the dark prickles of jealousy. But something is going on with the ghosts at the school, something is attack and taking their souls! Cliffhanger!

Review: there was atleast two scenes of foot licking so theres that, other than whatever is going on there this is actually very good. It seems to be a very sweet romance that dealt with the topic of death and loneliness and finding someone who loves you that actually made me emotional. It's also very cheesy and has some classic tropes and an added love triangle in the recent chapters! So far theres been innuendos but no actual on screen sex, though that might change as ch. 27 left off on a steamy note. Theres been no homophobia either! Teiko has no concept of it and Suho says its uncommon in Korea but that's about all he says of it, no negativity. His brother makes the remark "is my brother gay!?" When seeing him interact with Teiko but after that he treats it like a normal relationship and is a sweet and caring brother :)

My rate: I reccomend reading it! It seems sweet to me 9.5/10 half a point knocked down cause the feet licking

[dove-actually]

“Of course he’s wrong, and of course it’ll end poorly. But this isn’t a fight I can win.”

Ahni’s lips pressed into a small, teasing smile. “Lady Sarra Mendi, the famed Claw in the Glove, losing a fight? Surely that would never happen.”

(thank you so much @redotter​ for the AMAZING ART 💞💞💞 check out more of Renu’s OC art here)

title: Lost Fights word count: 1000 setting: knight-training fortress, a couple of months after the end of Knight Errant, during Storm Day (e.g. summer solstice) celebrations

“Of course he’s wrong, and of course it’ll end poorly. But this isn’t a fight I can win.”

Ahni’s lips pressed into a small, teasing smile.“Lady Sarra Mendi, the famed Claw in the Glove, losing a fight? Surely that would never happen.”

I rolled my eyes, but disingenuously; irritating as that moniker was, a small, childish part of me was proud of it.  

“Not never, just very rarely.” I wiggled my eyebrows, “And I make sure those who see me lose don’t live to tell others.”

Ahni laughed, a carefree, happy sound that echoed along the old balcony stones.

“I’m sure you do. You have quite the reputation to uphold, after all.” Amusement dancing in her eyes, she leaned in, touching my arm conspiratorially.  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

She smelled of palm-oil and bara fruit, a seasonal hair pomade that I’d seen used in Dejali province in summer. The mix weighed down Ahni’s usually tight curls, turned them to looser, shiny waves that flowed down her shoulders, and the rich, sweet fragrance made the balcony feel like a lush orchard.

People in Dejali called the palm-and-bara mix the lovers brew. Newlyweds used it on their wedding nights. I wondered if Ahni knew that. Probably—there wasn’t much in the way of plants and potions that escaped her.

If she knew, I wondered what it meant that she’d chosen to use the mix, today.

“I lost a fight once, right there.” She pointed to the south training yard, distracting me. “Worst defeat of my training years. Sir Vicente had all knights-appellant—protectors and healers—practice battlefield moves together, and I got paired with Marin Abarro…”

“The Butcher?” I grimaced. I’d trained a few years behind Ahni, but Abarro’s reputation as a brutal, sadistic bully had reached everyone. “I heard even the teachers were afraid of him. Apparently he once ripped off a healer-appellant’s arm…” I trailed off, jaw dropping. “No.”

“He didn’t rip it off.” Ahni hummed, rubbing her shoulder absently, “Though not for lack of trying. My magic flared during the fight—it can happen under extreme stress, if the user isn’t fully trained—so it kept putting me back together faster than Abarro could take me apart. He wasn’t happy about it.”

If Marin Abarro hadn’t left court and retreated to some corner of his family’s land years ago, I’d have gone and ripped him to pieces right then.

“I can’t believe that was you.” I shook my head. “The whole fortress heard about the fight, but almost no one knew who he’d hurt. Lady Danya wouldn’t let us near the hearlers’ wing—I heard she even yelled at Sir Vicente…”

I paused, as noises erupted below. A gaggle of children in training tunics spilled from around the corner, blowing storm whistles and waving blue flags. We watched them cross the yard, shrieking, and I smiled as I recalled my own days fighting for the storm-the-fortress trophy, on Storm Day. Bastian and I had organized our team better: no pointless yelling, no idling around the yard…

Ahni chuckled. “You look like you want to go down there and lead them.”

I didn’t dignify her correct assumption with an answer.

“I can’t believe you fought The Butcher.” I looked back to her as the uproar died below. “Why didn’t you refuse?”

“Because Sir Vicente had ordered it. And I could take Abarro.” Ahni narrowed her eyes at me. “I could. He wasn’t skilled. He swung his sword like a bat and had no leg game—he won fights only because he broke the rules of engagement and people feared him. In a fair fight, I’d have won.”

I’d seen her fight. She was good, but too deliberate with her strikes, too focused on trying to disable rather than kill her opponent. Anyone but an equally honorable opponent would take advantage of that.

“People like Abarro don’t fight fair,” I said. “The best way to beat them is not to engage.”

She arched her eyebrows. “That’s exactly what Lady Danya said, after my fight—and it sounded far more convincing coming from her, because as far as I know, she never rode into battle on a blind horse and armed only with a chicken leg.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “The horse wasn’t blind; his eyes were just covered. And it was a very big chicken.”

Her nose wrinkled in an expression of amused doubt, and I thought to myself, again, that she was the most beautiful person I’d seen.

“Abarro was my chicken-leg battle,” she said softly. “We’d had some run-ins, over the years: he bullied healer trainees, I reported him a few times... He tried to intimidate me, too—Lady Danya caught him following me up to my quarters once, and threatened to turn his digestive system inside out.”

There was little love lost between Lady Danya and me, but I mentally cheered for her.

“When we were paired to fight, it was important to me to stand up to him. Which I did. Right up until he broke my legs, at least.” She bit back a smile, “In any case, I may have lost the fight, but I claimed the moral high ground.”

“Which I’m sure was hard to stand on, with broken legs.”

Ahni laughed, and swatted my arm, playfully. Another storm-the-fortress team ran across the yard, and we watched them attempt a failed surprise attack on the west tower.

“We broke into Abarro’s quarters, later that week,” I said, after a minute. “Dumped a bucket of tear-bean powder in his closet. And I rubbed wolf-weed over his saddle, so all the fortress horses would refuse him as a rider.”

Ahni gave me a strange look, and I shrugged.  

“We didn’t like that he’d hurt someone weaker—I know, I know, you could’ve taken him.” I held up my hands, laughing, “I didn’t even know it was you! Just wanted to teach a bully a lesson. He deserved it.”

“He did,” agreed Ahni, and for a moment we watched the training yard in silence, until she nudged me gently with her shoulder. “Very heroic, Lady Sarra. Avenging my unfair defeat.”

I snorted.

“No wonder your reputation precedes you.” She put a note of girlish breathlessness into her voice, and leaned in, squeezing my arm. “The bravest [spoiler], the [major spoiler]—the unerring champion of Scanians everywhere.”

I winced at the reminder. “I’m nobody’s champion.”  

“You’re my champion, today,” said Ahni, and she kissed my cheek, her warm hand squeezing mine briefly. “Thank you for teaching that bully a lesson.”

My cheeks heated.

“You’d have won, in a fair fight,” I said, and I squeezed her hand back.  A hunting horn yowled across the yard, making another assault in the Storm Day games, and we turned to watch, shoulder-to shoulder, surrounded by the sweet scent of palm and bara fruit.

____THE END____

And a full-sized rendering of Renu’s gorgeous depiction of this scene, because I couldn’t get this to size properly in the title photo...

LOOK AT THEM AREN’T THEY THE PRETTIEST.

[areseiseart]

Ancient Oracles Dev Update 06-24-2020

Hey guys! Hope everyone is doing well. I am back on the job hunt right now so my time will be split between that and working on the game. 

I jumped really quickly into a lot of this and as this is my first project I’m still learning and figuring out how each new thing works. 

That being said! I have good news.

Writing: 

I went back through the prologue script and better refined certain points. Chapter 1 of the prologue is pretty much finished. I really rushed it the first time and was ready to be like ‘ yes this is great!’ but i’m now going back through and making needed edits. (such as the first meetings for different characters and such.

I will be redoing the rough potato outline of the boys routes once the prologue is finished being edited. Then I’ll do a potato draft of Aspen’s route but this will likely be after I finish coding and such. 

Art:

I learned the hard way that I needed to redo some sprites in order to change outfits and such. At the moment everyone’s sprite except Aspen’s is fixed in that regard! I’ll be editing that on and off between other things.

I have patron rewards almost completed again for this month and have been working on backgrounds for the first chapter. I am still new to backgrounds so this is wildly inconsistent with my usual workflow. for the moment some really rough backgrounds are being placed as placeholders into the game.

Programming/Coding/etc

Coding was always going to be my biggest hurdle to overcome. I know how to write...I know how to draw. I am however dyslexic and have Dyscalculia (basically dyslexia with numbers) This makes it much harder for me to focus on the coding aspects of AO. 

Thanks to some suggestions from fellow dev’s and help from them as well I’ve managed to at least fix the basics of the code. 

I also switched Atom to a Solarize dark theme-which is much easier on my eyes. Which has improved my productivity more than I can even say. 

I have figured out how to identify and implement different characters but right now the only fully placed character is the MC/Carmen. She’s currently talking to herself-I still need to tweak her expression shifts and placement. 

I am making a decision on whether or not to design the MC’S mum who appears within the first scene with her. She does not play a large role in the story so I don’t want to fully render a sprite that will only show up rarely if at all. 

I also mocked up a quick plan for the title screen of the game which you can see here! I’ll be refining and then implimenting it hopefully by the end of the week. Any bugs will hopefully be handled after!

That’s all I’ve got for you guys today! I hope to start doing weekly updates now that I’ve settled more into my schedule. (if not every week it will be every two!)

cheers!

Ares

[deathandhumanresources]

Chapter 2 - Administrative and Clerical

As the pages of my book filled, progress on “The Plan” reached a fever pitch. Father’s groundwork was impressive when it was only sketches and doodles but the first draft of all Creation turned out to be more wondrous than any of us could imagine. The Djinn’s constructs were massive in their execution and the Angel’s philosophical designs imbued every structural cell with Father’s purpose. Each day, I grew busier processing the requests for names from every Angel working in the “Living Things” department. As the work grew more complex, with weirder and more diverse ideas arriving for my designation every day, I became more confident in my abilities. Before long, news of my efficiency reached the Upper Angelarium, where the Archangels gathered.

“Are you sure you won’t get in trouble for this?”  I asked the Cherub called Ornias as he held his creation towards me. “This one seems like plagiarism to me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Ornias replied, though I couldn’t help but hear a chiding in his voice.

“I mean you stole this design from other Angels. I think I’ve seen this tail before. I’ve definitely seen this bill...”

“I may have taken inspiration from a few of my fellow spirits but this design is an original.” The fat Angel’s snorting face puckered into a look of disingenuous offense.

“It looks like you just mashed five other animals together!” I grabbed the design by its webbed flippers. The thing turned its duckish, rattish head towards me and stared with curiosity. I placed it on the ground where it scurried behind Ornias’ rounded form. I apprehensively asked, “Is this a joke?”

“A joke?” Ornias spat, “Does creation seem funny to you?” In truth, neither of us knew if Creation sounded funny because neither of us fully understood the concept yet.

“Is it mammal or bird?” I probed, attempting to refocus the conversation. 

“Yes.” Ornias replied with so much indifference, that I wanted to reak wrath on the Angel’s stupid face. 

“I’m truly at a loss, Ornias. Perhaps you have a suggestion?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking we could call it a,” he choked as if stifling a laugh, “a Platypus?”

“Oh, come on!”

“Alright, alright!” Ornias guffawed as he reached forward and clucked me on my back with his palm. “Look, I somehow got this one past the Approval Department and all I need is a name to make it official. Wouldn’t it be the best if this thing ended up crawling around with all the other animals?

“Well,” I considered, “I don’t know...” In truth, looking at the creature made me understand comedy a little bit more. And it was cute.

“What do you say, old pal?” Ornias thrust his right hand forward in a gesture that all Angels agreed meant “mutuality.”

“We’ve never met before today, Ornias.” I abstained from returning the gesture.

“Think about it.” The Cherub plucked his weird design up from the ground and turned to leave. As they flew away, the creature wriggled in Ornias’ grasp to look at me again. I smiled and it shook, startled, before burrowing into hiding in the Angel’s arms.

“Erm... next!” I called to my constantly growing queue. I had set up my operations in a vacant cubelike room of the lower Angelarium. When I found the room, it invoked a feeling as though I had meant to be there all along. Inside the cube was a chair for me to sit and a desk for me to place my book. From the room, I allowed one Angel at a time to enter and present their creation to name. As always, the Angels queued naturally and rarely made a fuss.

The next Angel in line entered at my call and I was surprised to see that it was a Principality. For those of you not well versed in Angelic Hierarchy, the Principalities are the assistants to the other Choirs of Angels. They deliver messages and perform tasks for Angels too busy to complete those tasks themselves. They are the delegates and were designed by Father to be pushed around without much fuss.

This Principality had hair as gold as wheat (a plant designed just days prior) and skin the color of olives (a plant that hadn’t been designed yet but one I’m referencing retroactively.) Her physique was rigid and she towered over the other Angels in the queue behind her. Her wings were so soft that they resembled clouds in the distance. Her expression was one of annoyance, brought on by having to wait in a queue when there were other tasks at hand. 

“Hi there!” I greeted, somewhat fearfully. “I did not know Principalities were invited to create for ‘The Plan!’”

“I am Eremiel.” the Angel interjected, “I am not here on Creation business.”

“Ah.” I said “Well I am afraid that I am in the middle of naming every single living creature. Is there something I can help you with?”

Eremiel reached into a pouch slung around her bony shoulder. She produced a page of parchment that she began to hold out to me. Before I could take it, she snatched it back.

“Were you designed to be able to read?” She asked dryly.

“I have the gift of all languages.” I replied, confused, bemused, and anxious for what news Heaven had for me now.

“Good.” The Principality unceremoniously dropped the parchment on my desk. The page slid across the surface and landed in my lap. 

“They’ll see you after you’ve finished your duties for the day.” Eremiel spoke with vexation as she left the room. On her way out she bumped the next Angel in line, an impossibly beautiful spirit with a crown of light and holding a round rodent with enormous ears. Before the offended Angel could protest, Eremiel’s eyes widened and she gave a look that clearly said “Get out of my way or you and the rat will be broken for all of eternity.” The beautiful Angel cowered and Eremiel launched off into the higher Angelarium.

I unravelled the parchment in my lap and read the message within:

TO AZRAEL, ANGEL OF NAMES

YOUR PRESENCE IS DEMANDED

TO DISCUSS IMPORTANT MATTERS 

REGARDING YOUR FUNCTION AND PURPOSE

YOU ARE TO REPORT TO THE HALL OF THE ARCHANGELS 

FOR JUDGMENT

AS SOON AS YOUR DUTIES FOR THE DAY ARE COMPLETE

BE PROMPT

SINCERELY,

GABRIEL, ARCHANGEL AND CHIEF MESSENGER

 “Urp...” Was all I could say as I let the parchment roll up and sway back and forth on my desk. I felt my face go pale. I don’t know how long I sat, silent and staring, before I heard a meek “Ahem” beyond my doorway. It was the beautiful Angel and its creation.

“Oh, er, next!” I called.

The Hall of Archangels stood at the top of the third sphere of the Angelarium. My work was mostly clerical so I hung around the bottom of the third sphere. The upper sphere was for Archangels and Principalities. Beyond the third sphere was the second sphere. That place was the work area of the middle management Angels: the Powers, the Virtues, and the Dominions. Above the second sphere was the first sphere, the upper management sphere. The first sphere was where the Seraphim, the Cherubim, and the Thrones worked closely with Father on “The Plan’s” most important projects. Above the spheres sat Father’s throne, where he shined his radiance on all Angels below him.

I nervously clutched my parchment of invitation as I approached the entranceway to the Hall. The landing for the upper sphere was paved with bricks carved from a porous grey stone that felt soft under my feet. Rounded outcroppings of the stone jutted from the walkway in symmetrical pairs leading from the landing and into the upper sphere. Prototypes for the aforementioned flowers adorned the outcroppings in a manner I found aesthetically pleasing. A massive silver arch marked the entry to the halls. Great, angled runes were carved deeply into the arch, spelling in a now-forgotten language, “DILIGENCE, VIGILANCE, GLORY.” 

The landing was bustling as Angels of all different Choirs launched and disembarked to and from the Heavens. Each spirit possessed a face of focused officiousness as they passed by and around each other on the walkway. Many of them held stacks of paperwork and they would bump gracelessly into one another, mumbling indifferent swears before rebalancing and continuing on. None of the Angels offered so much as a wayward glance at me as I shuffled uncomfortably towards the archway. I felt so out of place.

When I bypassed the arch and into the Hall, I looked above to see the walls and ceiling had been carved of the same soft, grey stone and painted with a mural. The art of the hallway depicted the Heavens, complete with all manner of Angel flying and smiling as they worked at the building blocks of Creation with hammers and chisels. A rendering of Father sat on his throne at the apex of the curved ceiling, his smile was the biggest. In his left hand, he held a sash decorated with the same runic font as the silver archway. The text read “PERFECTION.” In his right hand, he held a strange blue orb that I recognized as the initial design for “The Plan.” I did not notice it at the time, but the Djinn were not pictured in the mural at all.

I came to a series of turnstiles preceded by booths with Angels inside. I watched as visitors approached, spoke briefly with the booth Angels, and pressed past the turnstiles before resuming into the hallway. I puffed up my chest and attempted to imitate the zeal of the patrons around me. I approached a booth on the far end of the vestibule and stepped toward the turnstile.

“What’s your business?” the bored looking booth Angel asked blandly.

“Oh, er...” I fumbled with the roll of parchment at my side before passing it to the turnstile guardian.

“Mmm, yes.” He unrolled the note and studied it with nonchalance. I rocked from side to side on my heels for an awkward moment before he continued. “You are scheduled with Gabriel  in the Western Atrium. Do you know where you’re going?”

“I’m afraid not.” I meeped.

“Oh.” The Angel curled his upper lip, “A  tourist.” He hefted from his seat with a grunt of vexation and leaned over his booth towards me. He reached a slender arm past my neck in a manner meant to lead my gaze. “See the wisp of red cirrus cloud that stretches along the wall mural?” He did not wait for me to answer. “Follow that ‘round the rightmost corner and straight along until you reach the double doors labelled ‘Virtue and Punctuality.’ You’ll find the Chief Messenger’s office within.”

“Alright.” I murmured as I squinted towards the mural. I did not see red cirrus clouds. I turned back to the booth Angel to see he was regarding me with furrowed eyebrows.

“You can go along.” He chastised. With a nod of his head, he signalled to a line of equally annoyed Angels behind me.

“Oh.” I said and pressed at the turnstile. It did not move at first so I shuffled uncomfortably, trying and failing to look like I knew what I was doing. Finally, the arm loosened and I tumbled forward, almost falling to the floor. I pulled my wings around me in embarrassment and hustled into the reconvening crowd beyond the gate. I felt overwhelmed by the roaming crowd and was instinctively drawn to the wall and out of the way of the bustle. I inspected the mural for the wisp of red cloud described by the booth Angel. At first, I found no evidence of such cirrus and I felt a panic rise inside me. After a moment, I noticed a streak of cloud, more pink than red, cast behind the drama of the painting and across the cosmos. I followed the path around the corner into a straightaway that appeared to go on indefinitely. The hall had many pairs of doors across from each other on either side of the walkway. As I strolled passed, I couldn’t shake the curiosity to open one of these doors and look inside. 

The red cirrus on the wall lifted onto the ceiling of the hallway and led to an extension of the main hall’s mural. The color pallet from the previous painting shifted to a radical use of greys and reds. The whisping cirrus fed into a large black stormcloud that loomed over the extension of the hallway. Vibrant flashes of lightning illuminated the backdrop of the scene and made many of the boisterous storm clouds look like violent cosmic explosions. When I stopped to admire a detailed expression of cloud, I noticed the painted silhouette of an armor-clad angel amongst the dramatics. Its outstretched wings matched the curvature of the stormy display behind it and it raised its arm high above its head. In its hand, it held a long, menacing sword that extended high into the heavens above it. A streak of blue lightning extended from a nebulous point in the storm to meet the Angel’s sword where it curled coyly toward the tip of the blade. I had not noticed before but the scene depicted in this hallway’s mural was populated with the silhouettes of many menacing Angels, each dressed in a similar armor and each held a long-tipped sword. My sense of wonder towards the illustration slowly became one of apprehension. I pulled my wings closer around me.

The bustle of busy spirits slowed and thinned out as I continued down the straightaway. I walked slowly, craning my head to either side to read the designations above each approaching doorway. “Virtue and Punctuality, Virtue and Punctuality,” I repeated to myself, trying my best not to forget what the rude booth Angel had told me. To my dismay, none of the doors on either side of the hall included either of those words. Many of the doors instead read similar titles, like “REGIMENT AND RULE” or “CLASSIFICATION AND CARTOGRAPHY.” As I wandered, I began to get a little confused. It wasn’t until I meandered to the set of double doors at the end of the hall before I realized I had reached my designation. As clear as day, the words “VIRTUE AND PUNCTUALITY” hung in a flowing gold font over the doors’ brick and mortar archway. I should have figured the Archangels would signify their meeting place in such a glorious manner.

I did my best to stifle my nervousness and pushed at the rightmost door. At first it did not open and, when I pressed a bit of my heft against it, there was a brief give before more resistance. I heard an “Oop!” from beyond the barrier. I leapt back, embarrassed. Apparently I was pressing the door into someone! There was a bit of murmuring behind the door before it opened inward. I gulped in shock when I saw who stood before me.

“Ah, Azrael!” exclaimed Lucifer, his mouth curled into an unfamiliar smile. “Right on time, I see! It always pays to be punctual for a meeting at Virtue and Punctuality.” His demeanor was glaringly contrary to how he spoke in our previous meeting. I found the change pleasant but disturbing at the same time.

“Er,” I croaked, “I did not realize you would be attending, Mister Lucifer.”

“Mister Lucifer!” He repeated with a laugh over his shoulder, presumably to whoever else was in the room behind him. “What did I tell you about this kid, Gabe?” He turned back toward me and stared with a strange admiration I had only seen before from Father. “No, I won’t be joining in on today’s meeting, but do know that the higher ups are aware of your progress. You’ve yet to disappoint, little Angel.”

A warmth erupted in my face. It felt like shame and pride all at once. I opened my mouth but I didn’t have anything to say.

“Lucifer,” a dry voice called from behind the Archangel, “If you’re going to praise the creature’s punctuality, at least let him in the door to be punctual.”

“Ah, of course!” The smiling Lucifer took a labored step back and held the door open for me to enter. As I inched my way in, he snuck his towering form around me and out into the hall. “Best regards, Azrael!” He said as he let the door close between us. 

The room was not as grand as I had expected. The magnificent aesthetic of the main hall had not transferred to the Archangels’ chamber. Instead, the walls and ceiling were a clean, abstract white. A skylight cropped from the ceiling’s center, allowing Father’s light to shine on the room’s simple furnishings. Ahead of me was a rectangular slab of marble cloud. It hung motionless in the center of the room, illuminated by the light from above. Ten marble white chairs surrounded the slab and sat suspended in a similar fashion. 

At the opposite end of the slab from me sat two radiant Archangels. The first I noticed was a giant of a spirit with earth-brown, craggy skin and locks of flowing silver hair. He wore the same night-black robes that I had recognized on Lucifer but the mass of his chest and arms were bulging at the seams. His enormous hands were clasped together and resting on the slab, his fingers were dressed in several thick, golden rings. His eyes were the shocking blue of a lightning flash and his nose and lips were wide on his muscular face. He looked at me, wordlessly, with an expression barren of emotion.

The Archangel to his right was slender, petite in comparison, but something about her presence was far more threatening. She too wore the black Archangel’s robes, though the cuffs and collar were decorated with an elaborate, gilded pattern. Her amber hair poured from the top of her head in short waves that flowed down to her neck. Her face was narrow, almost gaunt. Her sharp chin pointed downward and her colorless lips were pursed. A needling nose drew a line from those pursed lips up to eyes blacker than a tempest. 

“You may have a seat.” The smaller Archangel called and extended a welcoming hand toward the floating seat closest to me. Her voice was curt and intimidating, it lacked the song that hung in many other Angels’ voices. 

“I do apologize for the short notice.” She continued as I approached my chair and sat down. “With Creation rapidly approaching, we have been encouraged to expedite certain processes.”

“No trouble at all!” I cried out, perhaps a little too loud, across the table. “In truth, I didn’t realize ‘The Plan’ was coming together so quickly. That’s good news!” I smiled. When the gesture was not returned, I said, “Isn’t it?”

“Hm.” The slender Archangel replied noncommittally. She raised her hand to her face and rubbed at her cheekbone with her finger. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited Archangel Uriel to this briefing. He will be sitting in on the interview process.” With her other hand, she offered an introductory gesture to the large Archangel to her left.

“Thank you, Gabriel.” Uriel’s craggy lips lifted into a welcoming smile and he unclasped his hands to place them both face down on the slab. “I wasn’t supposed to attend this meeting but, after hearing everything, I wanted to put a face to the name!”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted, “Gabriel, was it?” My eyes met the slender Archangel’s and she gave a slight, acknowledging nod. “What is this about an interview process? I’m afraid I don’t know why I was summoned today.” 

Gabriel’s gaze shifted to meet Uriel’s for a moment before returning to me. “Your summons,” she said wryly, “explained that we were to discuss your function and purpose.” 

“Now, now!” Uriel laughed in a thunderous tone that shook the room. “Like you said, Gabriel, things are happening so quickly these days. I get the feeling little Azrael here hasn’t been brought to speed with the recent influx of,” he paused as he searched for the right word, “adjustments being made to ‘The Plan.’” With each passing word that passed through Uriel’s lips, I preferred him more and more to Gabriel.

“Adjustments?” I repeated.

“He is little, isn’t he.” Gabriel sequitured and clicked her tongue, her voice permeated with venom.

“You must forgive Gabriel.” Uriel’s grin widened. “She is an auditor, after all. Father designed her to look for incorrections throughout the process. I imagine you’re more used to the friendliness of the Angels in the lower circle.”

“Ah, sure.” I lied. If spirits in the lower Angelarium were ever friendly, it was an event I had certainly never witnessed first hand.

“We’re not here to discuss my function, Uriel.” Gabriel reached below the chair and slammed a weighty book upon the slab’s surface. It was the second book I had ever seen, after my own. “This is about your progress, Azrael.”

“Oh.” I gulped. “I figured there were no discretions. I thought the naming process was coming along quite, er, nicely.” I hung my head and cursed in my mind whomever had complained about my process. I could only imagine it was that pedantic Qaspiel, still angry with his Jellyfish. Or maybe it was Ornias pulling a cruel prank, like his Platypus.

“Indeed.” Gabriel murmured as she flipped through an innumerable amount of pages in her book. “Yes, we’ve received word from Father and confirmation from Lucifer that you are, in fact, exceeding expectations.” Despite the commendation, her voice produced no kindness in its tone.

“Oh.” I said again. “Then, er, what’s the problem?”

“Problem?” Uriel laughed. “Azrael, your work is splendid! Before you came along, most Angels were designating approved creations with a complicated number system. It was getting ridiculous! And don’t get me started on trying to talk identification with the Djinn! They ID everything based on chemical composition! Gabriel,” he turned, “remember when Fuqtus gummed up the ledger for WEEKS because he referred to seagulls in his notes by the number of carbon atoms in their feathers?”

“Mmhmm.” Gabriel vaguely confirmed as she continued surveying her notes.

“Then Father comes along and says he’s tasked an Angel with giving every living thing a name! ‘A name!?’ I said, ‘How’s that going to help anything?’” Uriel turned back toward me. “But then you come along, you take a look at the seagull, you call it a seagull. It’s like that’s what it was supposed to be called this whole time! I mean, come on, it’s a gull that flies over the sea!” 

“Quite.” Gabriel snapped her book closed. “What Uriel is trying to get at is that there has been a highly irregular decision made on your behalf.”

“Highly irregular?” I felt foolish repeating everything the Archangels offered but I was so nervous, my higher cognitive function had ceased.

“A promotion.” She asserted.

“A promotion!?” 

“Will you stop that!” 

“Azrael,” Uriel offered, “we would like to advance you to the role of Principality. Specifically we, the Archangels, need a note taker for our meetings. We figure that no one, so far, has taken detailed notes like yours. Of course, this will start after you’re done assigning your names but, by our projections, we should be finished up with creating new creatures here by the end of the week. So,” he puffed up his chest and lifted himself from his chair, “What do you say?”

I didn’t know what to say.