#I tried to design the legs myself at first but they were not very good and then I remembered I have a friend who does mech commissions

[alangdorf]

Yessssss the legs are done so I can finish stuff that‘s not just boss fight second phase and the immediate aftermath now!! So here’s the normal Magolor ref. The prosthetic design was a commission from lovely friend Cozzymandias (@cozzymandiesque on twt I believe) who designs and draws a lot of mechs, check him out!

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: earth 42 miles morales x spider gn reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: nokia vs. super-powered teen, who wins?

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 798 ~ part 1

"So... What did you mean "I don't want to kill you"?"

You look up at Miles from your position on his chest, then back down. How do you explain this? A spider bit you, and now you have powers. That sounded silly, didn't it? But there was no better explanation.

"Well, first off, a spider gave me these superpowers. You know, sticking to walls and stuff."

"A spider gave them to you." Miles laughs, and it definitely sounds like he doesn't believe you, "Did you swallow it in your sleep?"

"No, no," You groan, "it bit me."

"That simple? Hell," Amusement is written all over his face, and it's kind of annoying because you're being serious, "Imma have to do that myself."

"Look," You begin seriously, looking to catch his attention, "it wasn't a normal spider. I don't know what it was that made it so special but don't get yourself bitten by a venomous spider, now, I don't need you in a hospital."

"Okay, fine, but I thought the spider stuff was just part of your suit. Like you were some kind of spider-fiend." He waves his fingers to mimic spider legs.

"I'm not that good." You shrug, "You're the genius one. I designed the suit and the web-shooters, but even that was hard. Can't imagine doing it all over again." You shake the hideous thought off, "Point is, I got super-strength from it."

"How super?" Miles questions.

You sit up on the couch–much to his dismay–and say, "Do you have anything I can break?"

"Was there anything he didn't value?" was more the question. Miles thinks about it... well, the materials for his Prowler suit were very precious, and he already knew you could break those, so that was off the list. Kitchen appliances...no, his mom would kill him.

But then, there was something: his mom's old Nokia. She always said she still needed it. Just in case her smartphone broke, she had a back up. Then again, she was careful with her phone, with everything, so that was highly unlikely.

When Miles returns with the old phone, he hands it to you with doubt, "I don't know if you'll be able to break this. It's a Nokia, after all–"

Crushing it in your fist was too easy. Now, splitting it in half? That's a more garish display. It was sure to make your boyfriend speechless.

You take each end of the Nokia and bring them apart before he can even finish his sentence.

For a moment he stares, shocked, even as you place the poor phone on the coffee table and sit back to admire his expression. Honestly, it's priceless. A gaping mouth accompanied by two wide eyes that are glued to the sight of the Nokia.

"Awesome, right? Honestly, I think I could do worse things, but I've never tried–"

"Holy shit." Miles finally says. He picks both pieces of the phone in his hands to examine them.

...and just then, "Miles, I'm home!"

Miles tosses the phone back onto the table, making a loud clack! noise, whilst you push a hospital mask onto your face.

When Rio turns the corner, she gasps, "Miles... ¿qué le hiciste a mi telefono?" (what did you do to my phone?)

"I–nada, mami." (nothing, mom.)

"Ey, ¿como que nada?" She chastises, clicking her tongue, "¿Te volviste mentiroso o que?" (what do you mean, nothing? Did you turn into a liar or what?)

"Mami, ¡te lo juro! Tu sabes que nadie puede romper una Nokia tan..." This was not the right time to forget an expression, but Miles didn't know what to say. "clean como asi." (Mom, I swear! You know nobody can break a Nokia as... clean as this!)

"Y ahora vienes con tu espanglish." Rio sighs, placing a hand on her hip. "Young man, you are in trouble." (And now comes the Spanglish.)

"Mami–" (Mom–)

"(y/n)!" She finally notices you. You straighten up on the couch and hide your nervousness with a cough. "Oh, sweetheart, what happened to you?"

"Hey, Mrs. Morales, I got–I mean, I'm... sick." You muster up the loudest, longest, and most horrendous cough you have with all your being.

Rio almost seems to recoil at the sound. Regardless, she stands up straight, "I think we need to get you some medicine."

"It's fine!" You stop her before she can, waving your hands frantically. You really did not want to take a random pill or something. "Really, Mrs. Morales. I already had some."

"Then I can make you some soup. That is, if you're staying for dinner, of course." She shakes her head at herself, so inconsiderate.

You glance at Miles and he just shrugs, "Okay, sure."

When she goes to the kitchen to start up a broth, you turn back to your boyfriend. He seems relieved, because his mom was too distracted caring for you to properly find a proper punishment for him just yet, but he tenses up at the sight of your panic.

"Now I have to hide this from your mom too??"

[jo-harrington]

Solamen. (An As Above, So Below Story)

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace. Charity. Peace. The oath of the Knights of the Holy Order.

Summary: You and Eddie--separated by time and endless suffering--don't realize how many strings keep you connected on the web of fate. What players are there trying to cut those strings? And when will you both find out that they are unbreakable?

Word Count: 8k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight - Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Soulmates, Kas!Eddie, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Minor Character Deaths, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Violence, Gore, Disturbing Imagery, Philosophical Ideas, Supernatural Encounters, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

Note: Special thanks to @somnambulic-thing for listen to me as I tied myself into a knot with all of my Pepe Silvia string and helping me untie it all. Love you so very much.

AND IM NOT GONNA TAG HIM BECAUSE HOW EMBARRASSING but thanks Mike Flanagan for the "a ghost is a wish" line that I absolutely ripped off.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

"That's just the heart talking, you can never trust those. Pick a more stable organ to listen to, like the spleen, or the gallbladder." - Joan Tierney

November 6, 1983

Eddie woke to something tugging at his leg, pinching the flesh between deft fingers, but not piercing the skin.

Then whispers.

Unintelligible whispers that moved about him fluidly, like a wave. Maybe it was a wave because a sudden flood of memories, both good and bad, rushed over him; nightmares perhaps? They almost didn't feel like they were even his, but he knew that they were.

Driving the van for the first time, his first campaign as a DM, your first kiss.

He felt as though he was underwater.

Underwater, something biting him, tear-filled words as he lay dying in the desolate waste of the Upside Down.

“Eddie, wake up,” you whispered frantically in his ear.

He heard his own voice then. Or a memory of it, at least.

I don’t like this Chrissy, wake up! Flashing lights, snapping bones, and a sickening wet crunch.

He gasped as his consciousness slammed into him heavily, the remnants of fear from his past life ripping through the din to bring him back to the waking world.

The memories of falling and crashing soon followed and he observed his surroundings.

A crater.

It was the only way to describe the pit he’d created upon impact. A large divot in the ground with a lip of toxic earth and his body curled at the bottom, and as he forced his body to crawl out of it, he saw the spray of soil that had rained over the surrounding landscape.

And what a strange landscape it was.

Empty.

There was nothing as far as the eye could see in any direction. Just a flat, silty plain and a roiling, lightning-filled sky.

There were no creatures, no trees...he couldn't even see Hawkins, which he recalled flying over before he'd been struck by, well, whatever that was that knocked him out.

He'd been soaring over treetops, calling out to the bats to join him.

How had he ended up in such a vast emptiness as this?

The whispers returned, a ripple of them that shifted and moved around him, the source invisible. He growled instinctively, hackles raised; was someone or something trying to intimidate him? The rebellious beings that turned against their master? Had they learned a new trick?

Or was this something else? He already had one invisible enemy, one pest that tried to undermine Henry at every turn. Was this trap by your design?

The whispers closed in on him--he could feel them even if he couldn't see them, in numbers immeasurable--and he roared in warning, spittle flying from his mouth as his jaw unhinged, and the chittering blast of sound echoed into the void space.

He startled when your lips caressed his ear and the weight of you settled against his back, arms winding around his neck to hold him back.

"We need to go," you warned him, but he just hissed at you.

The whispers got louder, closer. From the din, he started to make out voices. Familiar voices. More memories. Talking to him, begging him.

Chrissy at the picnic table.

Patrick calling him a freak in the hallway.

Mr. Newby excitedly telling him about a new stereo he saved up for a year to buy.

They all chanted his name, just like you did. It swirled around him.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie help us. Please help us.

"Eddie listen to me," you tried again. "We need to go."

He roared again, and felt triumphant when the whispers went silent.

But there was one last whisper, one more phantom, that was bold. Brave. He felt it walk right up to him. Tall, proud, toe to toe, nose to nose; it stretched to match his height.

He growled to intimidate it but felt it square itself resolutely. You tightened your arms around his neck, almost to hold him back.

"Don't," you told him, but it was too late.

He slashed a claw outwards to try and bat the whispering phantom away. He cut through it and felt the whoosh of air between his talons.

And must have been a trick of the light, a trick of the mind--one of your tricks--but there was a flash of a reflection of his own eyes right before him. Staring into his soul.

He blinked and it was gone.

You tightened your grip, then sighed and sunk through him, into him, back into the pit once more.

He was about to gloat, about to taunt you--he wasn't Eddie Munson anymore, he wasn't going to fall for your little games--but it was cut short as a roar that rivaled his in strength and volume echoed from just beyond the horizon.

Determined, he took to the skies again, ready to put an end to whatever other tricks you orchestrated so he could return to his master, victorious.

November 14, 1986

When you came to, you were on the ground.

Not tied up or restrained in any way.

In fact, when you finally got a good hold of your senses, you realized you weren't wearing any clothes either.

"What the...what the fuck?" You startled yourself into a sitting position and looked down at your faded Maidenform bra and Hanes Her Way underwear that you got on clearance at K-mart with Eddie oh so long ago.

You jumped as he suddenly appeared before you--the anger at your unconsented state of undress forgotten--ghastly and ghostly, looking like he did when you jumped into the passenger's seat of the van. Smug smile, love in his eyes, hair mussed from too much headbanging.

"Did you get me anything?" his voice echoed. He wiggled his fingers like he had when he tried to peek inside of your plastic shopping bag, where you did indeed have candy for him.

You didn't even have a chance to wrench your eyes shut, so shocked that you were to see him there, before he vanished.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears as your breathing became rapid and shallow. Your eyes darted around to try and find him once again, as though he'd simply transmuted somewhere behind you--you were used to his vanishing acts...his unseen presence, but this? This was different—you knew that immediately—but found yourself alone.

Alone in a cold, dark room with only the moonlight above to illuminate the dirt floor and dead ivy that climbed the stone walls. You could hear the chittering of bugs and flapping wings of bats in the dark; creatures of unknown origin lurking in the darkness, waiting to strike.

You realized where you were rather quickly--

The vision that the boy had shown you. The cell. The Harrowing.

--and knew that you needed to find a way out immediately.

The witches had already gotten some sort of advantage by capturing you; you wouldn't let them kill you too. You would die on your own terms when you were good and ready.

You shifted to a kneeling position and reached down to let your hands scrape along the dirt floor. You cast yourself forward, consciousness seeping into the Earth to try and find a break in the stone. You knew there must be a door here...it was just too dark to see.

"Show me," you demanded.

"Show you?" Another voice rasped from the shadows. "What's the use when you refuse to look?"

It was not Eddie's voice this time, and pain lanced through your chest, directly into your heart as you recognized it.

Your eyes watered as you fought the urge to look up, as a figure leaned into the moonlight in the corner of your eye. Grey hair, weathered skin, a delicate golden crucifix around her neck. You knew your Nonna wasn't there; no, you watched them put her body behind a wall. Felt a part of her soul settle there, to rest, for eternity.

You didn’t look up, steeled yourself for the fact that even though it sounded like her, it couldn’t be her. She was gone. She was dead. As much as it pained you to acknowledge.

Nonna was gone. Eddie was gone. You were alone. And no one was going to save you here unless you saved yourself.

You shook and dug your fingernails into the dirt, demanding the very stone around show you the way out, all while Nonna's phantom spouted chastising words, about how you never listened to her when she told you to pray and repent and thank God for this and that.

"Your eyes can deceive you," you muttered aloud as a reminder. "Don't trust them."

Nonna inched closer and closer to you, and your breath hitched as you felt the softness of her hand as she reached out and cupped your cheek. You shut your eyes and leaned into it for a moment; it felt just like her hand.

Gentle but calloused from years of labor, you swore you even felt the indentation in her fingers from the beads of the rosary she usually had clutched in her hands.

Maybe if you wished hard enough…

"Tesoro…amore…prayer won't help you here," she tutted.

You grit your teeth in anger and clenched your hands, nails splintering against the hard ground. Your eyes opened to stare straight ahead of you into the darkness.

“My grandmother went and saw Star Wars with me in the theater, you know.” You spoke with as much confidence as you could muster. The softness of Nonna’s hand vanished, as did she. “She was well-versed in the ways of the Force.”

You stared into the darkness, unblinking, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally the darkness broke and a heavy wooden door opened, creaking inwards towards you, until light cascaded into the cell and revealed a man with slicked-back hair and elfin features. His eyes were like fire as he stared down at you, hatred and challenge burned there.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he sneered judgmentally. “Many minds have been broken by this place.”

“What do they say about tv melting your brain?” you spat right back at him. "I've watched too much; my mind is already gone."

He chuckled darkly.

“I wouldn’t know such mortal mechanisms as…teevee.”

“Oh you’re one of those kinds of witches.”

“Warlock,” he corrected. He was one of those kinds of men too. You wondered, disgusted, if he stripped you of your clothes himself to get a kick of your potential humiliation. Or if even that was above him. “And what might you be?”

“I’m a pain in the ass,” you smiled mockingly. “You should have just slit my throat if you wanted to kill me. Or is that too much of a mortal mechanism too?”

He swiftly lowered himself to kneel in front of you, black clothes billowing, and grabbed your face in one hand. His sharp nails dug into your cheeks viciously, drawing blood if the telltale pinch was anything to go by.

You felt him pull truths from you, information ingrained in your blood--Jinette, the Knights, the curse, your mission, Edward Spellman. It might have alarmed you, how easily he was taking it, but it was such a simple trick.

Two could play at that game.

You watched and waited as his eyes became unfocused, as he lost control taking thoughts and memories from you. Then, when he was nice and distracted, you reared back and punched him across that sharp cheekbone and nose, putting all of your heavenly force into it.

He let go of you at the impact and fell to the side, but you got what you needed. A little bit of blood smeared across your knuckles.

And then you saw.

The man--Faustus Blackwood--the Church of Night, the Academy of Unseen Arts, the Witches of Greendale and their historic persecution, the Dark Baptisms. And at the epitome of it all...two figures standing head to head…

A roar outside the door of the cell broke you from your thoughts and you froze, knowing.

Blackwood abruptly got to his feet and spat blood at you as he sneered, "I would kill you for that...but you’re worth more alive than dead, unfortunately.”

He stormed out of the cell without any other hesitation, and you were alone again.

Waiting. Anticipating.

There was no need for intimidation tactics really, but he apparently had an affinity for drama.

He stepped into the light and you saw the cloven hoof on one leg, the very human-like torso draped in a billowing black cloak, and the goat-like head with ears that twitched as he laid his eyes on you.

You had to admit, your emotions spiked a little bit at the sight, and as the door to the cell slammed shut behind him. Fear, confusion, annoyance, and that ever-present feeling of grief.

Maybe those were just the things that made you up as a person. Instead of joy or anything l truly good. He brought them right to the surface; not like you could lie to him.

Well, you were probably not as afraid as you should have been. You knew that. And he did too, as you swore you heard a snort from him.

But it wasn't every day that you faced your fate.

It wasn't every day you found yourself face to face with the Devil.

"Took you long enough," you greeted.

November 6, 1983

He flew for as long as he could and then pushed himself to fly further, following the massive roar until it became the constant din of roars and chitters and screeches--many beasts voices combined to form one.

He flew until he found something again in the barren void in the outskirts of the Upside Down.

It was surprising to find that there wasn't even a blue tinge to the sky anymore out here, but instead a dingy yellow hue. Glowing and golden, with, what he believed to be, shooting stars soaring across the murky atmosphere. Where he'd gotten used to order and obedience in the mirrored version of Hawkins, this...this...was wild and untamed.

It was full of possibility and promise.

For a brief moment, deep down inside, right next to where you resided in the pit, curiosity bloomed.

Was this the potential that the Upside Down had when it wasn't wrangled and tethered by Henry? Was this the potential that he had?

He snarled at the intrusive thought, sure that you were the cause of it; he needed to focus, to stay loyal to Henry. He had a job to do here; he had to restore order.

He powered onwards and soared over a crowd of creatures on the uneven ground below. They were emaciated and writhing, howling and digging and fighting.

It wasn't like the playful or bored fights he witnessed at the quarry; this was a survival of the fittest. Limbs were ripped off, throats torn, blood shed. And the winner had the explicit honor of absorbing the writhing mass of parts that the loser left behind.

Off in the distance he could see the partially formed behemoth of a creature. No life breathed into it yet, just a lump of meat with one leg here and a malformed head.

Images flashed in his mind, courtesy of Henry, of the Mindflayer forming from citizens of Hawkins. Their flesh melted to form the beast, just like his brethren below melted into one another to form a new Mindflayer.

Just like they'd sacrificed themselves for his new form.

He felt electricity deep within his flesh, his bones, his wings as like called to like.

He couldn't help but feel some sort of betrayal; its origins were unknown and he couldn't quite discern what the feeling meant.

Was it a betrayal of the creatures who used to believe Henry to be their leader, who sacrificed themselves for him?

Or a betrayal within himself? The pieces of him that had been graciously given knew that he was a part of their flock, their swarm...the blood that kept his heart beating and his hunger at bay was the same as theirs...but he'd chosen Henry over them...

"Is that what they feel?" your question echoed within him, radiating from the depths of the pit outwards, to the very tips of his talons and back. It shook him to the core. "Or is that what you feel?"

However, he ignored you as he dropped to the ground, dry earth cracking beneath his feet, and let out a deafening, screeching cry to bring the mass of creatures to order.

The hive mind was still unavailable to him--to all of them, it seemed--but he was still the strongest of them all, the most dangerous predator. They all stilled at his call, like a shockwave radiating outwards from him.

He turned on his heel, glaring at the massive congregation of creatures. Some of the dogs pawed at the ground; the petal-like heads of the demogorgons opened and closed at will, blood dripping from the thousands of teeth embedded in their maws. He didn’t need the hive mind to know what they were thinking, considering; he knew what it looked like when they were gearing up for an attack.

He snarled at them all, chastising them, warning them...

One warning; it was all they got. Just like his uncle used to tell him.

But one stupid creature got the courage to challenge him and it roared, a shrill sound from somewhere beyond his line of sight, and the others soon followed. Until he was surrounded by another cacophony of sound that caused the air to vibrate and the ground to rumble.

There was safety in numbers; he knew. He could overpower them individually without much trouble, but against the sheer mass of them? Could he win? Could he survive?

He dug his heels into the ground, tucked his wings tightly against his body, and hissed, accepting the challenge.

He silently apologized to Henry as he considered that this would be the most fun he would have in the Upside Down since he and Dustin had their…

His thoughts were cut short as one of the dogs raced towards him, mouth snapping, ready to strike. Only for him to strike first, claws cutting it to ribbons, easily tearing through its flesh until it thumped, dead in pieces on the ground around him.

Its comrades were soon to follow, a whole pack of them, and they got their pound of flesh out of him, biting and dragging their teeth into him. They sent his black blood spilling onto the ground with the wounds they inflicted. He powered through the pain, knowing he would heal.

What was pain to him when he was reborn of pain? When Henry had inflicted unimaginable agony onto him only to build him back stronger again?

He picked them off his body one by one, like the vermin that they were, cursing their betrayal—they had been his friends, his family in this new life—as he tore them apart.

More attacked, until it was an endless barrage of bodies and claws and teeth looking to tear into him, which resulted in what could only be described as untethered carnage. When he tired, he stoked his hunger by drinking deeply from the wounds he inflicted on them, taking his fill until he was ready to keep fighting.

He was filled with the determination to keep going until the last creature was dead at his feet, and he would have...he would have done it...

If only he hadn't looked up at the sky.

And saw it looking back down at him.

November 14, 1986

Your vision blurred and the devil's visage wavered in and out.

From goat, to that of a man with beautiful, sculpted features and dark curls. Back and forth a few times, smiling ever so gently at you. Finally he decided on the image of a man for his temptation of you.

Funny that he wouldn't make himself look like Eddie or Nonna again if he wanted to do that.

The cell door slammed shut and he sat beside you on the ground; he said your name carefully, as though he was tasting a fine wine for the first time.

"You're a funny little creature," he observed with a chuckle, dark undertones accentuating the depth of his accented voice. "My own disciples fear me but you...hmmm...you fear something else, I think."

"You don't spend much time on Earth do you? A Mongolian Death Worm is scarier than a Goat Man," you reasoned.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"You fear yourself." Your expression fell and he held a hand out innocently. "It's ok, I feared myself too for a time. After I was cast out of Heaven. My father and brothers feared me, so I must also fear myself. But I came to find that I was just...willful, and they didn't like that one bit."

You thought of Gabriel and his annoying stoicism, how he tried to keep you aligned with what fate had in store for you.

"Yes, you seem to be exceptionally willful too." He hummed in agreement, as though he could hear your thoughts. Maybe he could. "You and your forebearers. That's why you've found yourselves in the predicament you're in."

He leaned closer to you, his nose practically touching yours. His image wavered once more, and you smelled the brimstone on him. Much heavier than it had with Edward Spellman.

"That's why you've found yourselves doomed to an eternity with me," he smiled amicably and then slowly leaned back. "Why not let it be on your own terms."

Your eyes darted between his, and you questioned whether or not you could trick the Devil, if you could win against him in this game.

And if you did, would he just strike you down in retaliation?

"What do you get in return?" you asked.

"Another soul devoted to me," he said simply. "Instead of one I'm forced to punish. I really like it when mortals pray to me; the power is actually quite nice."

He took a deep breath in, shoulders squaring as he lavished in some unseen dark power. Then he exhaled and squinted at you.

"I'm being merciful, you see, because, I win either way; you're still mine, in the end. But isn't corruption fun? The hellfire tickles when it touches you instead of melting the flesh off your bones like it's currently doing to dear old Dad."

His eyes narrowed further when you didn't react.

"Or to Eddie."

You must have visibly reacted, some kind of shudder or blink that made him relax and smile again.

"See, that got you listening," he nodded self-assuredly. "I can smell the stink of grief on you.”

You gritted your teeth at the pang in your heart; Eddie…he wasn’t in Hell. He couldn’t be.

But how could you be sure?

“And denial,” He continued. “Faustus could too, actually, and he's not the brightest bulb in the bunch. He doesn't have nearly as much power as he likes to pretend he does. He's losing control of his own congregation. They don't want to listen to him. No wonder you didn't fall prey to his torture either. No matter. You're here with me now."

The edges of the cell suddenly became alight with flames, a circle of them that trapped you and the Devil together.

They were not of this earth; you knew it immediately as they licked at your bare skin, but you gritted your teeth to the singe of pain that shot through you, refusing to move closer to him.

"Now, dear girl, what do you want?"

He tilted his head, and the motion felt strange and distorted. Contorted as it seemed to tilt further than a human's range of motion would allow.

"Do you simply want this curse gone? You can continue doing your good deeds on earth if you want, save the innocents. I don't mind. Oh that's a good bargain actually. Innocents slaughtered by darkness go to heaven; if you save them and they live to sin on their own, they'll end up with me. Let them suffer a little less so I can enjoy hearing them scream a little louder."

The longer you stayed near the fire though, the louder you heard screams of the damned from within it.

"Maybe you want revenge on those who put this silly curse on you in the first place. Your bishop friend hmm? Or whatever he is. We both know the dark deeds he's involved in."

Something wicked twinged within you, deep down in the little dark spot inside your soul. Your lips quirked as he projected images of Jinette screaming as you burned him alive.

You shook your head, physically trying to rid yourself of the thoughts.

No. You were good, you could break this curse yourself and you could still save people and you could make it to heaven. To Eddie.

"Ah, see, my mistake. How could I forget? How good is all of that," he asked knowingly. "When I'm forgetting something important? When there's something more delicious I can offer."

The devil's projections changed then. From revenge and damnation...to all of the decadent moments that you had with Eddie and then lost because of this stupid curse.

You whimpered at the thoughts, at the way they plucked at your heartstrings. Kisses and laughter and every secret, sweet moment between the two of you.

"Do you want your little boyfriend back?" he whispered. "The two of you could live forever with red vines and cherry pie and Dr. Pepper until the end of time. Immortality is something I offer all my disciples."

You felt your resolve weaken and tears built up in the corners of your eyes as you saw the two of you frolicking through the world until the end of the earth itself. You and Eddie and forever. You could almost reach out and touch it.

But how could he offer that to you if Eddie was beyond his grasp in Heaven. He had to be in Hell, as much as it destroyed you to believe.

"All you have to do," he held out his hand, "is say yes."

It would have been so easy to reach out and touch his hand, to ignore all of the red flags and to accept this offer. It was easy for all logic to leave you, all rational sense that you had. It was so tempting and you were so...so...tired.

But there was a small bit of movement in the corner of your eye, and you broke eye contact with the devil to see what he might have to show you now...only to find Gabriel there, hands held behind his back. He looked bored, like he usually did, and you almost felt smug at him having caught you like this.

You were tired. You were human. You weren't meant for these grand plans that fate had in store for you, that God seemingly had for you.

"Have you come to scold me?" you asked him wearily. "Or save me?"

"I'm here to prove that you still have much to learn," Gabriel sighed. “Very much to learn, it seems.”

Yes, you did...didn't you.

You snorted and hung your head in shame, finally allowing the tears to fall.

But the devil...the devil narrowed his eyes at you and turned to follow where your line of sight had been.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked with a snarl.

You scoffed and lifted your hand to gesture towards Gabriel.

"Surprise!" you exclaimed with faux excitement. "Family reunion."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, head darting back and forth between you and Gabriel.

Or rather, just left of Gabriel.

You watched as his head turned in confusion, as anger built up inside of him and the fires roared hotter, as his image darted in and out, in and out. Goat then man then something else...just a shadow.

Like the shadow that you'd seen in the woods.

You sniffed and wiped at your tears as you put two and two together. All of the inconsistencies that you ignored in the devil's stories, the misuses of names and symbols in the Academy, and now this...the fact that this so-called Lucifer--an archangel--might not be able to see Gabriel.

Devils lied, demons lied. They tricked and poisoned minds and hearts. They still had power and promises; this one had a whole slew of followers. He was their deity in one way or another, spoke as though he believed himself to be a fallen angel. Maybe he was a prince of Hell in some capacity, some pretending parasite whose ambition was the throne of the damned.

But was he the Devil himself? No.

None of these beliefs were as straightforward as they seemed; the universe was a riddle that you didn't have time or care enough to solve.

You also were a little rusty on your Lesser Key of Solomon.

Had he even known these things about your curse? About Nonna and Eddie? About your father and your knighthood? Or had it just been a simple skimming of your thoughts? Maybe even Blackwood's thoughts when he'd read your memories through your blood.

You thought back to the information you tried to ascertain from Blackwood in return.

A vision of this Dark Lord and Edward Spellman, some sort of disagreement between the two of them. Perhaps this devil was trying to get someone or something on his side to overcome Spellman's challenge.

That's all it took for it to click in your head.

Then you got angry. At this devil for his tricks, at Jinette for putting you in this mess without sufficient warning, and most of all…at yourself for falling for it all.

You looked back at Gabriel, unable to admit that you’d fucked up.

"Ok but you could have just saved me you know," you snarked at him instead.

Gabriel’s mouth quirked in his rendition of a smile. Some pseudo expression that made him seem human for a fraction of a second.

"It'll all make sense one day.” It was said the way a parent would to a curious toddler. Gabriel looked away from you to some middle distance, through the wall of the cell, and then gestured at the devil. "Would you like to take care of this?”

You rolled your eyes at him then pushed yourself to your feet, much to the protest of the devil, who simply conjured more hellfire to try and burn you alive.

You let it singe you, let it touch your skin to ignite the fire of your own. A spiteful, smiting fire, much like you had emitted the day you found out Eddie died.

"And if I told you he was alive?" the devil asked, shrinking away as you raised your hand to banish him. "Eddie. He's alive."

You hesitated but shook off any effect his lies had on you.

"Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue," you quoted and then leant closer to him to whisper. "That's Shakespeare, if you wanna tell your friend Blackwood to experience some mortal things before I come knocking again."

The hellfire licked at you again and from it you sparked a pure and holy flame, and with the heat and pressure of a supernova, the Witch's cell was consumed. All the dark corners were illuminated, the evil spirits that lurked there expelled, and you heard the devil scream as he was sent back to the depths of Hell once more.

You were alone when the fire dissipated.

Gabriel was gone.

Even Eddie’s ghost didn’t dare show himself, and you were grateful.

Your footing faltered and you fell against the wall of the cell, grateful for it to be over. You took several deep breaths before the pain and weariness in your body—in your soul—got the best of you.

Then you cried. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs echoed in the stone chamber, as you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and self soothe. This moment was for you. It was full of mourning and self-hatred and fear and relief that you hadn’t given in in that moment of weakness.

Your respite didn't last long, however, because the door to the cell creaked open again. You startled and scrambled to stand tall, confidently, unwilling to let the witches get the best of you again.

Only to find the kind eyes of Edward Spellman on the other side.

November 6, 1983

He stared in confusion, ignoring the bites and slashes from the masses around him, as the pair of eyes became more tangible in the rolling, smoky clouds up above. A flash of lighting was a blink...or maybe a glint of curiosity in their gold-and-shadowy depths.

Just eyes. Nothing else.

It was a curious thing.

They watched him.

And he watched them back.

It would be easy to blame you for this, just like he'd tried to convince himself to blame you for the whispers. But you were silent; no gloating or even warning.

Actually, if he paid attention, he could hear you hiding in the pit, little prayers being muttered fearfully.

There was a surge of protectiveness that shot through him at the realization that you were afraid. He figured that as annoying as you were to him, he'd really never seen you affect the rest of the world in many more ways than plucking the strings of his guitar. Conversely, the world shouldn't affect you either; your warnings were for him and him alone. If he ceased to exist, so would you, right?

So why did those eyes scare you? And why were they watching him in the first place?

His head fell to the side in a confused tilt and the eyes seemed to blink at him.

He snarled and the eyes blinked again.

Then in the distance, the proto-Mindflayer shuttered to life and squawked. It was a sad and pathetic sound, and he would have laughed; however, in response to the cry, the army of creatures that had taken up arms against him screeched in tandem. They released their holds on him, their jaws becoming loose so they could contribute to the flurry of sounds.

Louder and louder until it was a deafening wail.

Until it brought Eddie to his knees.

He was not meant to kneel.

That was the first thought he had; Henry had made him to tower over his enemies, to intimidate them before he slaughtered them. His servitude to his master was not by force, it was willing.

He'd given up so much for a chance to live.

Given up his soul.

"Heaven," you muttered sadly inside of him before delving back into prayer to your non-existent god. He growled at the thought, at your incessant murmuring deep within him.

Eddie Munson wasn't going to heaven; it was a laughable thought, actually.

He struggled back to his feet, feeling like he was underwater again with the weight of a thousand oceans on his shoulders. He steeled himself against the wails and the screams, the whispers and the feelings they all drummed up inside of him.

He'd chosen this.

This was his path.

And nothing would make him deviate from it.

Not you, not some would-be-usurping monster made from the parts of recalcitrant beasts, and certainly not some eyes in the sky that made him doubt himself.

He closed his own eyes to the world, closed himself off from all of it; he even tried to close himself off from you, but he couldn't escape you no matter how much he tried, so he just ignored your words. He would deal with you later.

If some meddlesome minder thought that tricks could be used to turn him against his master, he could use tricks of his own. A trick Henry himself showed him--whether he intended to or not--through the Hive Mind.

It started as a spark, not in his heart or in his fingers...in his mind. He envisioned it. Red and crackling, like the lightning that illuminated the skies of the Upside Down. The skies of his home. So different than the lightning that crashed up above and made those eyes blink and wink at him.

Red like a glowing ember.

Red like blood.

Red like his guitar, the vibrations twanging through him as he plucked the string.

He harnessed those imagined vibrations, imagined lightning, and then cast it outwards from him.

He felt the devastation before he heard it or saw it; just like the static wave that had cut him off from the collective consciousness, his attack on the beasts stunned them, then shocked them.

Eviscerated them.

Every wave of electricity he cast was full of emotion, as though he was purging every human feeling he didn't think he had anymore. It was retribution and pain and justice; grief and regret and loneliness. And when it all poured out of him, when the wails stopped, he opened his eyes to an empty battlefield.

The bodies had turned to stone and then the stone had weathered into dust.

There was a rumbling overhead and Eddie looked up with a wretched, wicked, victorious grin.

Henry would be proud of him.

The eyes blinked again, and then lightning crashed from the clouds that made them up, right down onto the ground before him.

One bolt after another. Never touching him. Just dotting the ground with craters.

Like teardrops.

Until the skies roiled once again and the eyes disappeared.

All with one last whisper on the wind.

"Help me..."

November 14, 1986

Mr. Spellman--Edward, he insisted, but you simply refused--escorted you out of the Witch’s Cell and the Academy of Unseen Arts and then took you back to Greendale.

“In a car,” you observed as he led you to his vehicle.

“How else?” He questioned with a furrowed brow and then reached into the backseat to grab a lovingly-crocheted shawl to hand to you. "I'll return your belongings to you once I find their whereabouts; Faustus was only protecting our congregation when..."

He faltered with his words, and you knew that he was trying to find an excuse for something that might otherwise be inexcusable.

"It's alright," you stopped him and took the shawl. You wrapped it around your bare shoulders. You pulled it around you tightly and inhaled; it smelled like aromatic herbs with an undertone of...formaldehyde? "I understand. Maybe, uh, the stripping isn't necessary next time he tries to catch and torture someone huh?"

"Would you believe it if I said that it's a tradition?" he offered apologetically. "Those who make a deal with the Dark Lord often see it...almost as a rite of marriage."

He laughed as you wrinkled your nose in distaste.

"Maybe some traditions need to change," you challenged him.

He gave you space and time, several days actually, to rest and heal and recollect yourself before he invited you to his home--a mortuary, which would explain the formaldehyde--to discuss your visit to Greendale. You shared your story, willingly this time--about the Knights and the Holy Order and about your curse--while he shared stories about the Church of Night and the Academy, about their beliefs and how he constantly pushed to know more, believe more.

Then you both discussed how you might work together to ensure you'd never need to come back again.

"It's a great meeting of the minds," he exclaimed, more enthusiastic than you might ever be. "A meeting of worlds."

You couldn't deny him that enthusiasm, especially when he'd been kind enough to welcome you into his home. His sister Hilda even brought tea and cookies for the two of you. But you knew that Jinette and the Order would probably kill you if things didn't change in Greendale and soon.

"A meeting about the demon you worship or the kids who are dying at the Academy under your watch Mr. Spellman," you policed him.

You weren't even surprised when he agreed with you.

"You mentioned traditions needing to change. The Harrowing isn't even one of our most archaic traditions but it is one of the many traditions that I'm keen to abandon," he explained, scribbling something down in a nearby journal. You didn't ask what some of the other traditions the Church of Knight kept; you knew that you probably wouldn't be too keen on them either.

But he seemed genuine enough.

"As for the Dark Lord," he continued. "I've known for some time that he isn't really Lucifer Morningstar. But it wouldn't do for me to try and convince anyone of it. What else is there to drive our beliefs? I suppose plenty of things but...to change an entire system takes time. Besides...well...it's all relative, isn't it? To us, your deity is The False God. No matter how much hope and comfort he gives you."

You knew that Mr. Spellman was generalizing...but when was the last time God had ever brought you comfort? Had He ever?

"Maybe He is The False God," you agreed. "Maybe neither of them are truly worthy of any worship; they all have their flaws."

"Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit," he quoted.

"And wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad," you finished for him with a snort. "My boyfriend says that all the time when he and his friends play DnD. He..."

And then you caught yourself, and Mr. Spellman caught you too. He watched you with a knowing gaze.

"He..." you frowned. "He..."

"He came with you to Greendale," Mr. Spellman finished for you. "Even if you don't want to admit that he did. He goes with you everywhere. Doesn't he?"

"He does."

"When did he die?"

"Back in March."

"And do you want him gone?"

"I think," you paused and wrung your hands together.

What a strange question for him to ask...but it still got you thinking. Was it better to carry this grief with you for the rest of your life? To carry his ghost with you everywhere you went? Clearly, if your time in Greendale had been an indicator, Eddie and your grief could be used against you.

But what was the alternative? Being alone? You knew he wasn't there...but wasn't he there?

What was a ghost, but a wish...

"I think," you finally continued with your answer. "Eddie is a part of me now in a way that I can never ever...I don't even know if recover from is the right phrase. I don't think I even want to recover from it. He's going to be a part of me until I reunite with him again."

"In Heaven?"

"In Heaven. Or in Hell."

November 6, 1983

Eddie returned to Henry, triumphant.

It had been a relief once he'd returned to Hawkins and the hive mind seemingly clicked back into place. Henry had been the first to greet him when it did, demanding to see him in the flesh and, hopefully, celebrate such a big victory.

But when he opened his mind to his master, fully intent on letting him see everything--

The self-cannibalism of the unruly creatures, his destruction of them and finally, you deep down in the pit within him, whispering into his ear the whole time.

--Henry, surprisingly, did no such thing.

There was pride, but also boredom. He would see that his request was fulfilled, but beyond that? Well what good was praise when success was the expectation.

"Rest," Henry groaned and then settled back into his own convalescence, without much care to the state of his beast. "You will find battle again soon; for now, rest."

Eddie twitched apprehensively at those words, at the dismissal, as he took to the skies once again to follow his master's orders.

But something was missing. He needed answers, he needed to deliver a full recount of the incident, he needed to ensure that this would never happen again because he knew the consequences would be dire.

He was Henry's right hand; why didn't his master want to ensure he was successful. His reaction had been beyond trust; it had been indifference.

Deep down inside of Eddie, a little voice spoke.

Did it matter whether Henry cared or not? He was successful, that was all that mattered.

But what was the point of being successful if not to receive some sort of praise? He would surely be punished if he had failed.

But if he had failed, he would be dead. And he would have deserved it.

And if he had died? Would Henry have batted an eye?

He was just a thing. Henry's weapon, his sword, his beast...and if he lost...good riddance...if he lost, he was weak anyway...

Eddie roared when he landed at his destination--the trailer--inundated with all of the doubts in the world. Frustrated, because they didn't come from you, they came from himself. That voice...that was his own voice. Not yours.

His doubts in his master were his own.

But where had they come from? Why? Why now?

He was suspicious of their origin, especially since you were practically non-existent in that moment. In fact, he hadn't heard you since his return. Since he'd decided to reveal your existence to Henry.

The feelings of betrayal within him must have been because of you, even inadvertently.

"Come here," he screeched at you, clawing at his own chest almost an attempt to carve you out physically. "Answer me!"

But there was nothing.

Rage stoked, he stormed through the trailer and resumed the rampant destruction that he'd abandoned oh so long ago. Walls demolished, belongings broken. He would move heaven and earth to get you to respond to him, cause as much of a ruckus until you came to bother him once again, insult him.

Then he would...what? Strike? He couldn't strike you, couldn't kill you, couldn't be rid of you, even if he tried.

And then, in the depths of the destroyed trailer, he came to his guitar.

The guitar had started it all, hadn't it? The first time he'd played it was the first time you'd materialized. That was the first time he'd felt like Eddie Munson in an eternity.

But he wasn't Eddie Munson anymore.

He reached out a claw and plucked at a string, hoping that would get you to reveal yourself once again.

Twang.

There was a ripple.

Twang.

A disturbance in the pit as you clawed your way out of him once again.

Twang.

You were silent as you manifested, unseen, beside him.

It was silent for a while, as you both languished in the presence of one another. Eddie in the silent truth of your existence, you in the turbulent rage of his.

Until he finally spoke.

"What did you do to me?" he questioned.

He watched as the guitar sting plucked itself by your invisible hand, that zzzz of your fingertip against the texture of the string before the twang.

"How did you do that?" He didn't need to elaborate, he knew you knew what he meant.

It was easy to put the blame on you, for all of it, even though he knew he felt your fear in the wastes at the outskirts of the Upside Down. You'd been just as in control as he had been.

"We both know," you spoke into his ear, into his heart. "That wasn't me."

"But you are doing something," he rasped. "Trickster, fiend."

"Friend," you corrected him.

There was a pang where his heart should be once again.

But you were more than friend, weren't you. You were a part of his heart, a part of his soul--

He roared at the thought and lashed out, trying to claw at you futility, but you disappeared again and he felt you materialize across the room.

"I don't know why you're angry," you taunted him. "Because big bad Vecna didn't pat you on the head. The Eddie I know wouldn't accept such mediocre prizes."

"I'm not Eddie anymore!" he screeched and this time he didn't lash out at the space where you seemingly existed. Intangible and invulnerable.

No, instead he lunged for the symbol of you, the last symbol of his humanity.

The guitar.

He raked his claws down the metal of the strings, shearing them into pieces. He pulled the neck of it from the body, stomped on it with heavy footsteps.

The more he destroyed his previously beloved instrument, the more he envisioned your destruction. Just like he'd vaporized all of the betraying comrades, he imagined that he'd vaporized you. Each atom turning into dust, into smoke, the more he destroyed this last piece of Eddie Munson in existence here in the Upside Down.

It was quiet when all was said and done, and he let out a victorious wail to celebrate that silence.

He huffed and chuckled and dropped to his knees in relief that he was finally rid of you.

Finally.

But he felt the phantom weight of your arms circling around his neck, the pressure of your body against his wings. You softly caressed his cheek.

"Are you done? Did that feel good?" you mocked him.

A whimper escaped his throat and you sighed sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry Eddie," you nuzzled against the side of his head, breath caressing his skin and ruffling his hair. Even if you weren't really there. "But you're not getting rid of me that easily. I will always be with you."

“Real hauntings have nothing to do with ghosts; they have to do with the menace of memory.” — Anne Rice, Queen of the Damned

[universaln0b0dy]

Rotten dreams (twisted wonderland x oc) incorrect quotes

(please keep in mind for this that Lydia looks and sounds like she hasn't slept in ten years)

Crowley: Oh my [fucking ]sevens, what the fuck was that?

Lydia: Me reactivation my brain functions, I couldn't stand your bullshit

Crowley: you are very rude, but I was talking about how your leg twisted the other way and nothing happened.

Lydia: Oh, dying ten times made me ✨flexible ✨

----

Lydia: I got that opposite rizz. The second I start talking we are immediately on bad terms.

----

Carter: Would you stab your best friend in the leg for 10 million gold?

Lydia: You stab me, and then when my leg gets better, we buy a big-ass house.

Ruggie: You can stab me too, then we'll have 20 million.

Lydia: Good thinking.

(This trio probably only works in mu universe but 🤷‍♀️)

----

Sam: Would a Ms. Lydia please come to the front desk?

Lydia, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Sam: points to Ace, Deuce and Grim

Sam: I believe they belong to you?

Ace, deuce and grim, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Lydia: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

----

Riddle: *Screams*

Lydia: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Trey: Should we do something?

Carter: No, I want to see who wins

----

Crowley: Listen, I can explain...

Crewel: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Sam: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Lydia: You guys are getting paid?

----

Lydia: I’d like to offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals.

----

Lydia: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back.

Carter: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself.

----

Lydia: Hey, it's your turn to wash dishes.

Ramshakle Ghosts: I'LL WASH THE WALLS RED WITH YOUR BLOOD.

Lydia: 'Kay, but before that, wash the dishes, also use soap this time?

----

Lydia as soon as Crowley tells her there is a problem: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

----

(lydia has to relearn english)

Lydia: A theif.

Riddle: Thief?

Lydia: Theif.

Riddle: I before E, except after C.

Lydia: Thceif.

Riddle: No.

----

Lydia: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.

Deuce:

Ace:

Carter:

Grim:

Everyone Else At lydias Surprise Birthday Party:

Deuce: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

----

Lydia: Sometimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Deuce: The cow???

Lydia: What?

Ace: Deuce, W H Y?

----

Lydia: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Ruggie: I think you mean cards.

Lydia, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

----

Ace: lydia isn’t answering her phone

Grim: I’ll call

Ace: Deuce and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Lydia: Hello?

----

Ortho: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Lilia: Not if they consent to it.

Lydia: Depends who you’re stabbing.

Idia: YES?!?

----

Lydia , walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Ace: Hey.

Sebek: Hi.

Epel: Hello.

Jack : Hey!

Lydia : I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Deuce: We were out of Doritos.

----

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Carter : Thanks fam!

Lydia: oh no

Rook: *cries* I love you too

Jamil: Sounds fake but okay

Ruggie: can i get a refund?

----

Lydia : Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Ace: >:O language

Deuce: Yeah watch your fucking language

Epel: OKAY WHO TAUGHT DEUCE THE FUCK WORD?

Jack : 'The fuck word'.

Sebek: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Deuce: Oh my god they censored it

Jack : Say fuck, Sebek.

Deuce: Do it, Sebek. Say fuck.

Hehe he I am looking forward to posting the actual story

[fahbev]

Babs, Bruce and Danny in my dpxdc merfolk au!!!

argh, plz excuse the poorly edited photo lmao- lost a lot of detail TvT

Babs has her info Here. But this is her design! I’m not actually entirely sure if any of these designs are final, i might tweak them, but here she is! I gave her necklaces.

Bruce is based on a leatherback sea turtle! The spots aren’t actually super accurate to a leatherback’s underside, but if you look at it a little harder... you may find a fun little easter egg. It’s subtle... or at least i tried to make it that way. (If people don’t get it i’ll explain in a rb lol) Did you know that leatherback sea turtles can be up to 880 pounds? Idk what that is in metric but that’s roughly 7 and a half Bahfevs. They’re also much more triangular/less round than other turtles, so I reflected that in his design. And ofc, Bruce and Damian are both sea turtles bc they’re related. But they’re different sea turtle species so it doesn’t make much sense. Who gives a flip. What’s Talia, you ask? To that I say: 🤷‍♀️

(Side note: apparently, I’ve conditioned myself so I can’t draw nuetral expressions. It’s gotta have some emotion or else it looks wrong, and it feels natural to always have something going on there. So... drawing Stoic McStoicface here was a pain in the penis. He kinda has an expression anyway lol)

Danny is based on a ghost knife fish! I’ll be honest, i didn’t even know these existed until I looked up “ghost fish” in the hopes of finding something thematic. But then... omg! They’re black with little white accents? Like Danny’s design? And they have cool, funky bodies? AND they produce electricity!?? That’s so FKING COOL! I’ll have to do more research, but so far i’m pretty sure they don’t produce enough electricity to hurt someone. They are related to electric eels though! I first learned that electric eels were knife fish and not true eels when I was researching the moray eel for Duke. Funny how that connects!

Danny’s story under the cut!

Heehoo!

Okay so basically: Danny went diving to gather pearls because he wanted to make his parents happy/proud. While he was diving, His foot got caught in a rock and he couldn’t get it out. He panicked and he begged— to who? God, maybe? The universe, or the ocean? Maybe just begging fate or any higher power that could be out there, he doesn’t know. His only prayer was “Don’t let me drown!”. Unbeknownst to him, one of the pearls he’d grabbed was a magic, wish granting pearl. They’re rare enough that humans don’t even have legends of them... but the merfolk do ;).

The pearl took his very non-specific wish and decided to give him a tail and gills. He swam back up in a panic, and saw his new tail. Of course, this is a very horrifying thing to happen. But in less than a minute... it was already starting to dry off. As it dried, it turned back into skin.

Now, Danny has to be extremely careful not to get his legs or hair wet when he’s near people, because he’ll turn back into a merboy.

i... probably should have given him a shirt? He’d be wearing it, right? But i also did need to see what I was doing with that fin thing lol. I mean, a shirt would get annoying with that fin- he’d probably take it off. Tbh he’d probably have it off when swimming in general? Idk.

So: funny thing that happened when I was drawing Danny:

A first grader came up to me while I had it open on my desk, and she was like:

“Oh my god, that’s so good! Like, how did you even draw that?”

so I was like: “Oh thank you! ❤️”

And I think she asked again “How did you even draw that?”

so I was a little confused on how to answer, so I said:

“Well, I used my pencil...” and held up my pencil—

and then she got distracted by a spinny chair.

She’s so precious omg 🥰

[scarlettjemily]

Sedona - Chapter 1/?

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

Summary: Inspired by the song 'Sedona' by Houndmouth.

JJ leaves her home town to get away from her toxic family environment. She gets a job as a lifeguard. She's introduced to the lifeguard in charge of training her; a closed off, sarcastic, snappy brunette named Emily.

Song suggested by @time-himself

Word count: 2.4k

Posted on Ao3 as well

“Hey Emily, I’ve got a new girl starting today. I want you to train her and show her the ropes, but please be nice." Emily sat in a beach lounge, set up for the staff who were patrolling the beach.

Emily rolled her eyes, releasing a puff of smoke from her lips. She flicked the burning ash off of her cigarette into the makeshift ash tray that they had hidden in the lifeguard tent. “Are you insinuating that I’m not a nice person?” She asked, looking up at her boss.

Derek chuckled, winding up some rope that was left out from yesterday’s shift. “You’re not NOT nice, just a bit standoffish?” He threw the rope under one of the tables and sat down on the beach chair across from her. “Please work with me here; I got rid of the last guy because you didn’t like him so-“

"Well, he was a fucking weirdo! God forbid, I want to feel comfortable at my job,” Emily snapped, cutting Derek off. She placed the cigarette up to her lips, taking a long inhale. The minimal buzz calmed her sudden spike of frustration. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap; I just hated that guy,” Emily mumbled through a stream of smoke, hugging her legs up to her chest, the breeze from the waves chilling her skin.

Derek didn’t take her mini-outburst personally; he’s been working with Emily since she was 19. She’s 25 now, and he’s practically seen her grow up. He viewed her somewhat as a daughter. He always forgave her outbursts because he just knew what she was like. “Exactly, so I’ve hired a young girl close to your age, hoping you’ll feel more comfortable around her. Maybe you can even be friends.” He knew she’d find that suggestion amusing. Emily kept to herself a lot.

“Fuck off, Derek!” she laughed, putting out her cigarette and twisting her legs off the chair, letting her feet sink into the cool sand below. “When does she come?” Emily asked, hoping it was later in the day so she didn’t have to spend her whole shift making awkward small talk.

“Any time now.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ve got no choice, do I?” She huffed, standing up and removing the beach dress that she wore over her uniform. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice,” she teased, slipping her sunglasses on and making her way down the beach to hop up on her designated chair that looked over the water.

“Hey! JJ, welcome; I’m so glad to have you on board with us." JJ beamed at her new boss; she was excited to start her new job. “I’m so sorry. I’d love to show you around, but I’ve got an issue I’ve got to fix. If you head right down there, that’s Emily; she’s going to be training you.”

JJ looked down the beach, seeing a brunette girl in the distance, sitting atop a lifeguard chair. Her hair was flying everywhere from the wind that was coming off the ocean, but the woman didn’t seem to mind. “No worries, you go; I’ll go introduce myself.” JJ hoped her independence and confidence gave off a good first impression. She really needed this job.

“Enjoy your first day!” Derek yelled out while running off to tend to whatever problem needed him.

JJ headed down the beach towards Emily in the lifeguard chair. When she got there, she was looking through a pair of binoculars at something in the water. JJ gave her a friendly smile. “Hi, are you Emily?” She asked, holding her hand above her brow, attempting to block the bright sun from flashing in her eyes.

"Depends on who’s asking,” Emily stated, continuing to look through the binoculars and ignoring JJ's presence.

"Umm, well, Derek sent me here to find you; it’s my first day.” JJ was hesitant because Emily didn’t seem very friendly. “I’m JJ,” she tried again, smiling at the other lifeguard.

Emily not so subtly sighed and dropped her binoculars. She looked down, seeing the blonde girl standing next to her. “JJ? That short for anything?” She flatly asked.

“Jennifer, Jennifer Jareau.”

“Jennifer”

JJ tried to hold back a laugh, so when it came out, it sounded like a very patronising snicker. “Yes? Is that okay, Emily? What’s your deal? Have you had a rough morning or something?” JJ couldn’t help herself; she was so thrown by Emily’s attitude. “Lighten up,” she said, pushing it one step further.

Emily’s eyebrows raised under her sunglasses. She was shocked but also impressed, the latter being something she would never admit. “You’re fun, Jennifer,” she said, lifting her sunglasses and resting them atop her head. “So how old are you anyway? Like 15?”

JJ rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm actually 23; don’t act like you’re so much older; you literally look 17." The sarcasm leaving JJ's mouth was equally shocking to herself and to Emily.

Emily let out a laugh at the girl's comment, genuinely thinking she was funny. “You’re right, I’m 25. I was just messing with you.” Emily hopped off the chair, standing in front of JJ, finally getting a proper look at her. “So, where are you from?”

JJ relaxed briefly now that Emily seemed to defrost a little. “Arizona. Specifically, Sedona,” JJ watched as the quizzical look crossed Emily’s face.

“Sedona? Why the fuck would you leave there to come to LA?” Emily turned momentarily towards the water to do a quick once-over, making sure everyone in the water was okay.

JJ shrugged nonchalantly, “same reason as 90% of the other people who move here—to get away from a shitty family.” She let out a half-chuckle, wanting to breeze over the topic.

“I hear that,” Emily agreed. Like the other woman, she also didn’t want to get into it. “I thought you might’ve come here to try and be famous or something.” Emily rolled her eyes at the thought. Clearly harbouring some form of judgement towards that career path.

“I mean, I studied acting in college, but that’s whatever; it is what it is." JJ could feel her cheeks heat up; she always got slightly embarrassed when people brought it up. She was quite shy when it came to her acting; she really didn’t know if she was any good or not.

“Oh shit! I mean, I could totally see you in a movie, like the cute girl who lives down the street,” Emily teased, not wanting JJ to think she was judging her for wanting to be an actor.

"Oh, shut up!” JJ laughed, feeling much more relaxed with Emily now. “Can you actually teach me some stuff about lifeguarding now?” She said, playing along with Emily’s humour.

“I guess I have to; let’s go, Sedona,” she said, leading JJ to the workers tent, switching into a more professional role in order to show JJ how things were done.

The end of their shift came around surprisingly quickly for Emily and JJ; they were able to get into a natural swing together.

Emily was impressed, not only by JJ’s ability to learn so quickly but also by the fact that she didn’t completely hate JJ. She found herself enjoying her quick-witted banter; not many people could keep up with Emily’s sense of humour.

“So I was going to go into town tonight, kind of explore a little, maybe find somewhere to have dinner; do you want to come?” JJ chirped, hopeful at the thought of having some company for dinner. She sat on the end of the beach chair that Emily was sitting on.

Emily had her knees up against her chest, her ankles locked together. She had a towel wrapped around her shoulders, her body still wet from the last rescue she did before her shift ended. "Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t you think spending a whole day together was enough?” She teased, subconsciously pulling the towel around her so it hugged her legs.

JJ laughed and rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m going either way, alone or not. You don’t strike me as someone who’s got many friends, so I thought I’d be nice,” she watched as Emily let out an amused chuckle, casually reaching into her bag and grabbing a packet of cigarettes.

Emily took out a cigarette and placed it between her lips. “Very perceptive, Sedona; I don’t like very many people.” She offered her pack of cigarettes to JJ, seeing if the other woman wanted one.

“No thanks; I don’t smoke,” JJ declined. “Those things will kill you, you know,” she said, knowing Emily has probably heard this many times before.

Emily lit her cigarette, taking it between her two fingers and blowing the first stream of smoke out of her lips, making sure to aim it off to the side, not wanting to blow it at JJ. "Oh, I’m banking on it,” she joked.

JJ shook her head, tucking her wet hair behind her ear. “You’re so dark," she said, her shoulders shaking back and forth momentarily from a lazy internal laugh, not quite letting the noise leave her mouth. “Anyway, that’s all good. I’ll see you tomorrow for our shift,” she pulled together her bag that was sitting on the sand below her.

JJ didn’t think Emily would say yes, so she didn’t mind much that she’d pretty much declined the offer. “I better head off now; thanks for today!” She said, pushing herself off the chair and catching her towel that was quickly sliding down her waist.

Emily nodded, giving her a small smile. She dropped her legs, so she was now sitting cross-legged on the chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she gave JJ a small wave as she watched the younger woman walk off down the beach. She found herself smiling at herself for a second, remembering how Derek had teased her that morning about being friends with JJ. Now she had the girl asking her to go have dinner with her.

She looked back over at JJ who was still walking down the beach. She let out a sigh and quickly put her cigarette out, grabbing her bag. “JJ wait!” She called out, jumping off the chair and jogging down towards the blonde woman.

JJ turned around after hearing her name; she smiled seeing Emily run towards her. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” She questioned, still walking backwards as Emily got closer.

"Oh, shut up; don’t think too much into it. I’m just hungry,” she stated, stepping into line with JJ's stride. She let out a deep laugh when JJ pushed her arm, making her stumble slightly to the side. “I’m kidding, don’t be so sensitive, Jennifer.”

JJ smirked, flipping Emily her middle finger as she ran up the steps that led to the car park, the brunette following quickly behind.

“Want me to drive?” JJ asked, lifting her bag to sit on her shoulder. They’d made it to the top of the stairs leading to the entrance of the car park; it was close to empty, being late in the afternoon. Only a few cars were parked sporadically around.

“You’ll have to; I walk to work; I live like 5 minutes away,” Emily said, pointing in a random direction. She wasn't even sure if that was the direction she lived in, but that wasn’t the point of the gesture.

Nodding, JJ started walking to her car. “Alrighty, hop in!” When she reached her car, a doorless Jeep Wrangler; she threw her bag in the back, not caring if her belongings flew out of it. She hauled herself up onto the driver's side, immediately slipping her key into the ignition.

Emily covered her face with her palm, trying so hard not to laugh but failing immensely. “You’ve got to be joking with me,” she laughed, walking up to the car. She rested her hands on the open doorway, leaning through the opening. “Did you search ‘beach aesthetic car’ on Pinterest and buy the first thing you saw? Holy shit JJ, where are your fucking doors?”

JJ couldn’t keep her laugh in as Emily kept throwing joke after joke at her. She gripped her steering wheel, resting her head on it. “Stop! You’re gonna make me cry,” she squeaked through her involuntary laughs. The muscles in her stomach started to ache from the constant laughter.

Emily’s cheeks warmed as she watched JJ in a fit of laughter. Something about making her laugh so much was giving Emily a warm feeling of satisfaction. She climbed up into JJ’s car, a wave of relief washing through her when she saw the car did, in fact, have seatbelts. “I mean, if the cigarettes don’t kill me first, this death trap sure will.” Emily burst out laughing, flinching away from JJ, dodging a playful punch that was coming her way.

“That’s the place there, the one with the neon pink sign,” Emily pointed out, the neon lights flashing brightly, lighting the surrounding area with a dull pink tinge.

JJ swung her car into a vacant spot right in front of the restaurant. She placed her car in park, pulling her keys out of the ignition. She watched Emily out of the side of her sunglasses, not trying to make it obvious that she was observing her movements. She found herself staring slightly as Emily fixed her windswept hair in the mirror. “It looks fine, Emily; don’t stress,” she stated.

Emily offered a small smile instead of a thanks, subconsciously hoping the gesture sufficed. “Let’s head inside,” she said, looking away from JJ, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the fact that their teasing and banter had stopped momentarily.

The two women were sitting across from each other in a booth inside the restaurant. They were already eating their meals and making small talk with each other.

“Thanks for coming to dinner. I would’ve been fine coming alone, but I appreciate you coming with me,” JJ said sincerely, thinking about how well her first day of work had gone. It made her happy that she’d made at least one friend already; she truly thought she’d be fending for herself for at least a couple of weeks until she’d settle in.

A feeling of unease rose in Emily’s chest; she wasn’t used to the softness JJ was displaying. Not just because it was from her; in general, Emily either kept things comical or kept her distance; there was no in-between. “Like I said, I was hungry,” she taunted, bringing the tone back to a realm she was more familiar with.

JJ’s lips curled into a smirk, rolling her eyes. She continued to eat her food, the conversation returning back to a casual, comfortable flow.

[faun-the-hound]

MyStreet picrews

will (eventually, maybe) draw the MCD and MyS versions myself, but I wanted a baseline design idea. I keep going back to a PDH/MyS rewrite in between all my Thoughts about MCD and wanted to make the main characters on one of my favourite picrews.

A few additional head canons/AU facts:

-Nana makes her own jewellery, all of her bracelets and necklaces are hand-made, so are the chokers Aph and Katelyn are wearing

-Aphmau was born with wings and white runes up her arms and on her face, no one knows quite why, but doctors have assumed she's a rare type of magi

-Zane's white streaks are natural, he wasn't born with them, but they started growing in when he was two/three (also applies to MCD Zane)

-Aaron is covered in scars from various fights with other werewolves, he refuses to use his wolf form when fighting, so he gets hurt more often

-Travis had to have his left leg amputated as a child and now has a prosthetic and uses a cane, only Dante knew him before his leg was removed

-Katelyn has really long, thick hair (almost to her hips) but she shaves one side of it almost religiously because her first girlfriend ever said it made her look badass, and she revels in that idea

-Lucinda got her first tattoo (butterfly on her chest) illegally as a teenager, Katelyn and Nicole have matching butterflies on their ankles they got at the same time

-Laurance is very far-sighted, man can't see shit more than three feet in front of him, this leads to him tripping/walking into things a lot, hence all the band-aids on his face

-Michi's parents were very not good to her and Mikai when they were little, and the two of them lived with their aunt throughout all of high school, she's not currently in contact with any of her relatives

-Dante is hard-of-hearing and wears hearing aids, which messes up his Magick when he tries to use it (siren magi, can't hear properly = can't do sound-based Magick properly)

-Garroth knows sign language and preferred to use it in high school as opposed to speaking, this was due to his stutter, though he learned initially for Zane (who is a selective mute)

-Nicole never knew who her mother was, but her father has told her a number of times she was a magi (a witch), Nicole doesn't know if that's true though, as she's never had any Magick of her own

will probably draw them all myself at some point, but there's a lot of characters and designs are hard. might try doing Dante again, I couldn't figure out his hair with the picrew I used

Picrew link:

TOON ME! ⟪ A ⟫｜Picrew

[crying-fantasies]

Rodimus wasn't ready to be a creator (2)

Masterlist

Part 1 | part 2: Mental image | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

"When I tell you about a good dinner, a peaceful evening and a pleasant night, what do you think about it?" His hand trails behind your ear, soft whispers leaving his lips while he has you seated in his lap, his tone, as sultry as it can be, is tender as far as it can be, the soft static that his supposed sun kissed skin transmitted was giving you goosebumps in a very good way.

Your mind goes wild, Rodimus can't eat even if he uses his holomatter, a peaceful night just goes along your own preference but when his voice hits full force when he says a pleasant night, normally the idea of sleeping next to him, holomatter or gigantic robot, is always welcomed, but you can feel him in many more ways than before, feeling his desire for you in this physical form and also in his tone, he isn't the best to flirt but even his clumsiness brings you such joy that pools in your lower belly, blood rushing where it's needed to show him your eagerness and your bashful expression that he takes with delight.

Gosh, it isn't the first time you have him like this, but he just goes the extra mile.

"What would you think if I tell you about the new tattoo that I designed by myself just for you?" Rodimus takes your hand in his, holomatter feels strange, the usual static is less compared to other times after some improvement in the programming and his face can show more expressions, his light brown eyes still kind of lack most of the life that is always show in his big, bright blue optics.

His words makes you almost spin around and faint, but your hand reaches for a gap in all his shirts to touch directly to his holomatter skin, he seems flustered and even surprised, but it has been years since you two started dating, it was only natural that you tried something by yourself for once, he looks pleased but also embarrassed.

"I'll say, that I really want to see it... and touch it" that's all it's need to have him moving his strong arms to get all the shirts off him before Rodimus returns to his assaulting eagerness, kissing you with utmost necessity while positioning himself over your body without breaking such intimate contact, pressing his hips to yours, strong hands and calloused fingers gripping the blankets under you to press himself harder to your soft body, almost every corner fitting together in a natural way, as natural as it can really be, a pleasant sensation that he can only achieve with the human mode, he still needs to show you his new tattoo but the one on his right arm is getting all your attention with the firm muscles under the artificial ink when he manages to get his hand under your coverings, your body vibrating with "is this love" in the background that is getting louder by the second, his body protecting you from the outside world while his long legs had the job of keeping yours open, making the contact even better, hotter, more everything.

"Guess that I can only obey your orders" and so he compelled, pushing as far as he could even with clothes on but not for long when your hands left his long brown hair to start getting your own clothes off, feeling your warm skin on his temporary form, feeling how the engines in his original body revving with abandon, realizing once again how good it was to change things a bit and explore new possibilities with you.

All new experiences that started and ended long ago, and even when it was like that, all new possibilities and results that came from it are still present.

As a result, maybe not by normal human standards or biology, your son.

"Uncle Domey"

"Oh, Blacksun, what are you doing-"

"Erase my memory"

"What?-"

"Erase it. Just. Do. It"

Your pretty much exasperated and awkward son.

Many in the ship have know the young bot since his protoform days, most of those days were mostly centered in not squishing the mother and sparkling duo that were as tiny as, well, organics.

Blacksun was white and gray then, fresh from the hot spot, optics and face plate recently molded, emitting beeping sounds now and then to get attention from any bot around, he was such a cute little thing.

Now that little thing was trying with all his might to get Chromedome's mnemosurgery needles out of his digits and put it in his helm.

"Wait a second! Blacksun stop right this minute!" Rewind arrived minutes later, also trying to stop the young bot that was so desperate to have his memory data erased that even tears were dropping from his optics, even Rodimus appearing in the scene.

"I beg you, please erase my memory!"

"Sunny, wait a second I just said-!"

"Stay away from me you old bot!"

Funny how a few words could be the detonator to such a response, to give it more sense the ship was now in Earth, after the discovery of a new orb, just to get some samples back to Cybertron and see if a new commerce product could be available since they were already near, it was the very first time since he was a sparkling that he put his pedes in the planet's surface, feeling how it resisted his weight, it was kind of strange as what was called grass also got under him, maybe he would need to clean it later.

Then, they were there, humans, a lot of them, many other mechs were almost running to meet certain humans that they already knew, everyone was chatting or interacting in some way, even Megatron was there talking to humans, it was endearing in some way.

"Glad to see that things are more natural between us" he already heard the sound of his creator approaching, placing a servo over his shoulder pad, yes, it was good, he wasn't online during the great war or many of the other incidents, he was merely a protoform for most of the late conflicts.

Humans were looking at them, curious little creatures but still keeping boundaries, they knew what he was, and even when another techno-organic was already roaming around here on earth seeing one close up was already a big thing.

Rodimus noticed his sparkling looking at the humans around and smiled, it has been a while, and exactly because of that he wanted to talk to his kid now.

"I guess that is really time to talk to you about engines and flowers"

...

"... Excuse me?"

"Well, now that you've seen an actual human after so long, you may have a few questions of how you were conceived"

How was Rodimus supposed to know that his dear sparkling already learned about human "culture and costumes" in order to prevent any misunderstanding in this journey? Funny that now Blacksun had quite the expression on his face plate, both servos near his neck as he was just so close to strangle him, because when he heard the word "conceived" the mental image was instantaneous.

"It's a joke, It's only a joke I swear! You know very well that you came from the hot spot in Automica!"

Too late, Blacksun was already on the run and he heard shouting from Chromedome and Rewind's hab suit.

Yeah, Rodimus just wanted to play a little with Blacksun and the, supposedly, little information that he had about organics, it never passed his processor that, just like his other creator, he could've quite the imagination especially if there was already some know data about it.

Ratchet called it "volatile imagination", apparently it was common among humans.

Blacksun didn't get his memory data erased, so the mental image was still in his archives since it would be even more horrible to have someone that he knew to see such an embarrassing thing, so he only could thing of many other ideas.

Meteor surfing.

Movie nights.

Yes, um, a fresh hamburger, with fries or some bacon-

"Hey Sunny, you okay now?"

"Stay away from me, I'm warning you"

Okay, this was going to take a while before he experienced something worst that could out win such mental image of his creators all "passionate" like the human media that he saw before that involved reproduction.

[upn-the-sky]

Give me God of War!! (Ares OOAK, Part 2)

Just a reminder that there was Part 1 of this madness.

OKAY

I wanted to wait until I finish sword and spider legs before making a post, but there are three days after finishing the whole armor and I can't wait, I am screaming about Ares's supremacy.

Now I can say, it was hard. And the most hard thing was finding a balance. There are differences between Ares's 3D models from the different years, even in color palette. And I wanted to be as much close to the first game design as it possible. Some features were fully recreated from GOW1, some others I found more good at latest model from GOW3 and reworked them according to it. So at the end we have a good symbiosis I think.

Now let's a take a bow and look a bit closer at the mess under the cut.

Preparatory process

Until eyes are frightened, you can't do anything. To be honest I had no idea from where to start, the plan sounded like a "How to draw an owl" tutorial. Complexity of his armor scared me as hell, and after spending some time with drawings, where I tried to figure out a hook and loop system, which should attach parts to each other, I gave up and started to make his scaly iron belt, it felt more easier. YEAH.

Iron belt

You can see it at the screenshot. Well, one of the versions. Seems, it has no purpose beside decorative, I mean, maybe it can protect the groin, but eh, not really, honestly. At GOW3 model of dead Ares it became more detailed with round flower-like pendants and a little green jewel drops, but also it became golden as all metallic elements. I decided to make everything silver, but anyway, belt is very beautiful and I headcanon it is the same belt, which Ares gifted to his daughter Hippolyte in the past.

I weaponised myself with the smallest crochet hook and red thread and started to knit. WHY KNIT YOU ASK?? I don't know, it is easier for me than sewing all these scales %) Maybe they represents some fishy motives? (His connection with Aphrodite). Or serpent? (One of Ares's children, who was killed by Kadmus). Maybe green jewels is a hint to his mother Hera, because she loves emeralds. Who knows.

Scales, flowers, suns, glass drops.. If I were Ares, I'd present it to my beloved warrior daughter too.

Pteruges

As an example of the true manliness, Ares wears a skirt of course. He is not a barbarian, who hides his beautiful freckled thighs in the pants! How dare we to judge..

The easy part was to make a leather stripes and pierce them with the rivets (little nails, which I cut after this to left a head only). The hard part (which I had a chance to feel over and over again) was to figure out how to attach it to the body and hide all of the fasteners, and how to let stripes flow on his thighs and how the hell it should cover his.. godlike butt, I can't believe I wrote this.. %)

ANYWAY, A MONTH LATER I decided to make it a single piece with the iron belt, by creating a two-part wide leather base, attach knitted waistband to it, then join the each stripe to the separate piece of cloth to make them movable, then attach this cloth to the leather and sew some hooks. Aaaand the final result!

Cuirasse

I just say I literally hanged up myself with it. Here will be ranting...

Let's just think that it is not enough just to recreate appearence. In making 3D you can ignore some aspects like hidden straps and strings, which keeps armor conjoint on the human body. But how to make it wearable to the doll body, which is not soft and has a stable reliefs? How to make armor firm and shaped, but not completely firm, so it can be taken off from the body? Yes, my wish from the beginning was to make whole armor with a possibility to take it off and send nudes dress Ares in different outfit, which i will also make someday. How to make it light, so the doll can stand by itself? How to make it textured, to make it looks rough, to imitate metal or at least used condition? How to make metal parts without using a metal?

OKAY, WE NEED TO BE CANON - I thought and it was a day I decided to not invent armor, but use an experience of the hellenic people, who was smarter than me, I guesse. Because long time ago these people invented Linothorax - composite armor made of laminated linen fabric. ____

First of all, I splited Ares's cuirass to the segments: chest+collar segment, belly segment, spine segment, which emphasizes Ares's love to hunching over a little, and a waist-and-lower segment. Plus cuirasse has chained shoulder straps and side straps.

Well, when you have all elements, it is easier to imagine a complete piece. After that you just buy fabric, glue, chains, 27 hours for your day, new eyes, paint and other stuff. You wrap the body with the film and tape to protect it and start to glue. And here it is time for me to shut up, I know, you are here to watch a process, not to read an essay. I started from the front pieces of course. You imagine a pattern, you cut it, you glue it to hold the natural body forms as close as possible. Collar was formed right here. Gladly we can remove Ares's head when we want to do it...

Waist piece (eheh, spider butt (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and first attempt to assemble the cuirasse. Here I literally lost my last brain cells and bravery, stopped the process and didn't make straps until the last week.

Anyway A MONTH LATER!!11 after the first assemble I started to sculp a relief of the reinforced chest and the metallic collar. Also we can check how's our decapitated dogs doing. Here you can see a belly piece of the cuirasse, which needed it's own dog decor. I was that meme boy with a knife, yeah..

Seemed they doing great! I felt that and decided to finish arm armor. Shoulder pads and bracers Thankfully making them requires the same process: cut a pattern, glue it, repeat for each arm. Here is close ups of the leather "feathers" pierced by rievets, chained bracers (I am very proud that I recreated it fully like at the Ares model. Bracers has no other strings and stays at arm only because of the chains) and shoulder pads as a base and as a complete, fully Cerbered piece. Actually this part wasn't really difficult, I've just delayed the inevitable.

Boots The first GOW novel says he weared sandals!!! Bloodstained SANDALS! But this novel was written much later, so we are making rocker boots. ᕕ(シ)ᕗ HEY!, we are laughing here, but Ares is smart, Ares don't want to break his toes by kicking someone's helmet! Maybe after having some experience %)))

Well, as I said in my previous posts, his boots was the most agressive part his armor. Heel and shoes toes should be firm, but sole should stay soft. Also the whole construction of the boots should looks monolite with the greavers which cover up the layers of the material above the ankles. Don't forget about the chains and double emotional damage, because there is two legs!

A little more damage as a person you receive, when you understand that you need to process each edge of each piece, because all armor pieces has visible layers. And only after that you can paint everything, draw Ares's assymetrical ornaments and dress him up.

That's how we reach the end. Here he is. O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men. Kratos's yes-homo partner and his personal most vieceful enemy.

Ares! God of war!

Thank you everyone for your patience while reading this duvet cover. See ya in Part 3, Skeletor will return soon with a sword, spider legs and normal photos. And stay tuned, I will post some portraits next time!

[pbandjesse]

I am so drained today. I am super annoyed about this. I really wanted to rest and recharge but I just felt on edge and couldn't get myself to be calm. It makes me so frustrated. But I did still mostly have a nice day.

I slept okay last night. I struggled a little to fall asleep. I went and had some juice and it helped a little. I woke up at 8 and decided that I didn't need to be up yet. So I slept until 930. Which apparently is my default right now.

When I got up I texted with Jess and Celia right away. Celia asked when we could hang out and I decided today was a good day for it. So she would come by after her internship at the aquarium.

It gave me something to look forward to. My main tasks for the morning was to wash hair and perm eyelashes. And this went pretty well. I made the bed while the water warmed up. And I would have the best time so far perming my lashes. I tried to be more patient with the glue drying and I didn't keep messing with my lashes that weren't sticking to the pad. I also did both eyes at the same time. And I am sure I could have done a better job but they look pretty good and are not sticking straight forward anymore. Makes me feel prettier.

I finished getting dressed and had breakfast. I painted my nails. I went downstairs to work on some sewing machine frog legs. I got another set done. Two more to go. And then I worked on my blanket. Got another row done. 5 more rows to go!

While I was sitting on the couch sewing I heard a rustling in the backyard. I was worried Sweetp had a bird or something but I went to look and there was a man in the persimmon tree! So I went out to say hello.

His name is Victor, he was a tall older black man with an accent I couldn't place. He told me that he planted the tree 8 years ago!! How cool. I asked him if the fruit seems ready and he said not yet, and I told him the Internet told me December. He gave me two of the fruit he had picked from the top and said to leave them on the counter. He also told me he has a mini persimmon variety in his house and he'll leave some in my mailbox later. He was so sweet. It made me feel so nice talking to him and it was such a good community moment.

Celia let me know she was finishing up at the aquarium and we decided she would come here and we would go to shake shack. She had never gone and I was proud of her for trying something she wasn't totally comfortable with (mushrooms).

I waited outside on the stoop for her. She would get changed inside once she got here and it was really nice to just hang out. My brain fog was bad and I was feeling really tired so I was also feeling a little awkward and was struggling to keep conversations going. But I was enjoying her company and I enjoyed my mushroom burger and it was a beautiful day. Terrifying for the first of November but beautiful none the less.

We watched the very slow going and long train go by. The train crossing arm came down on a cars hood which was funny but unfortunate for that driver. And then the train took almost a half hour to go!! Wild. People were trapped for a long time. But it would finish going past right before we left to go back to the house.

When we got back here we would sit outside on the ground in the backyard and went through all of the state flags and rated their design. Maryland is the obvious winner but I also really liked Alaska's and New Mexico's. Ones that have their names on it or worse, "the state seal of" are bad. California, Indiana, and Arkansas were the only real exceptions to having their names. I also appreciated Ohio being a funny shape. Ones that are just the seal are to busy and I don't like them. Louisiana's pelican feeding her babies blood is hardcore. It was honestly fun looking up what the symbolism and Latin meant and it was just a nice way to spend an hour.

I started getting really tired though. We sat in the studio talking for a bit about projects but soon she was heading out and I went to lay on the couch.

I felt kind of miserable. Sweetp came and laid with me. And we waited for James to come home. When they did get home they gave me a kiss and then went to do the second coat of paint for the baby room. And I would come upstairs to lay in bed.

I spent a long time in bed. James would make pasta for dinner. I wasn't hungry, still full from my mushroom burger, but I had a few cookies and a glass of milk for dinner. Which just made me feel to full. Frustrating.

Today started 20 weeks. Half way there! Wild. I am hoping to feel baby more often. But for now I am just glad to know she's doing okay.

Now I am showered. And James is sitting at our bedroom desk doing research about sports. And I am just sleepy.

Tomorrow I have the market and then I have a headshot photoshoot with the Baltimore by Baltimore people. It's one of the reasons I wanted my eyelashes to be done! Let's just hope my hair cooperates with me. And that parking is so scary. I hate parking in the harbor. But fingers crossed.

I hope you all have a great day tomorrow. I love you all. Goodnight!

[galactic-johnny]

P-bandai HG Todesritter.

I actually finished this a while ago and took pictures but I didn't feel like posting until now.

This is the only member of the pale rider family I've been able to get my hands on so far, but hopefully in the near future they'll do reprints of others. The pale rider line is sort of infamous for being a mold bandai put not effort into and slapped a bunch of stickers on. The original kit came out 2015 and was one of the first p-bandai kits that was a completely unique mold (although from what I understand its similar to the hg gm sniper ii). They then proceeded to release its variants, which reused a most of the runners but had all new, equally huge sticker sheets.

The HG Todesritter then came out in 2020 with a completely new mold, and proceed to also have a ton of stickers for all of the gold, most of the gold/gray vents, and some of the white, and still used a bunch of polycaps.

At this point I almost refuse to use stickers aside from metallic eye/sensor stickets, so I tried my hand with gundam markers and I'm pretty happy with out it came out, and at least half the gold parts were actually very easy to color in myself. It sounds like I'm complaining but honestly it was worth the effort, the Todesritter is a such a cool combination of federation and neo zeon design.

It also two really fun gimmicks, being the incoms and the subarms for the huge beam sabers, complete with mastergarde beam saber effect parts. The shield looks cool but is all molded in the dark blue, and was the hardest part for me to paint with gundam markers but I was not going to use a sticker that folded 20 different times.

It's also very big, almost as big as the RG Hi-Nu Gundam, and it big enough to toss the normal sized Lfrith around.

The build was fun if you actually enjoy the painting part to some degree like I do, but there were a few flimsy parts, like the front skirts that are connected to the piping that kept coming loose, the wing binders are on a polycap so those fall a lot, and only the left leg fell off a lot for some reason. If you can get through those the articulation is pretty okay but not as good as most of the gwitch kits for comparison.

I didn't play gundam side story missing link or read the manga, but I think the gist is that during the first neo zeon war the Todesritter was built using the cockpit of the original pale rider that got destroyed in the one year war with the HADES system intact, and is piloted by the guy that destroyed the original pale rider, who is also married to its pilot, and she is now dead/dying because of the effects of the HADES system on her. If that's correct feel free to let me know.

It's currently the most effort I've put into a kit, but worth it imo and I don't regret it, I actually want to try the original pale rider now. I first saw it in Gundam Evolution and it was one of my favorite designs, and apparently a lot of people like it because bandai keeps doing reprints and has done all of the variants of it, maybe soon they'll do a master grade version (p-bandai of course :( ).

[ashadhahaha]

Priscilla (2023) - A Review

Heya folks! Here's a new blog dedicated to films + TV that I'm watching.

I made a very hasty decision to see Priscilla (dir. Sofia Coppola) in theaters today. I knew a little bit about it, that it was Priscilla Presley's biopic and that it would be based on her own autobiography, "Elvis and Me".

I have many good things to say about this film. Perhaps the most stunning things are the mise-en-scene and the editing. As always, Coppola has a very compelling way of telling stories.

The montages!!! I love how Coppola and her frequent collaborator Sarah Flack cut together Priscilla. I can see Lost In Translation here a bit with the clunky, slightly off-beat cuts. It's intriguing, a little unsettling, yet rhythmic at the same time. My favorite is when Priscilla waits on Elvis the first time. The way she's suspended in her own girlhood while Elvis floods her brain and her life. What a way to watch the time pass. You get all the information you need, all the details, and in an interesting way that fits the film well.

Some of the montages feel a little too romantic, like I'm watching a teen drama, which I think is excellent. There were so many points in the movie I start to fall for the romance and have to remind myself how this began in the first place and the young girl at the center of it.

THE COSTUMES. Coppola very much has an eye for production design!!! I noted in an interview she tends to spend her time there more than most directors. You can certainly tell. Elvis and Priscilla and honestly the whole world feels so believable and immersive because of the amount of detail. Priscilla's hair being our visual marker as we move through time is a great device and it really allows us to see this progression as she grows up and tries to fit more and more into this world she didn't choose.

Jesus, every single frame in this movie is beautiful. The way Priscilla is LIT. OH MY GOD. From the very beginning, with Priscilla's feet walking into the frame over the pink carpet. Every shot is composed with intention and meaning and create a strong aesthetic language that we feel consistently throughout the story.

Coppola doesn't shoot a lot of coverage, so her scenes consist mainly of a static camera, a well-decorated set, and her actors moving and talking to each other. Some moments feel incredibly long, other feels short and sweet. The rhythm is pervasive and concise.

She also tends to shoot at a lower budget. The most expensive scenes were likely the huge montages! There's a particular montage of Elvis performing that's used to show passage of time and it's shot very simply. You can do a lot with a little. Just a single spotlight in front of him to cast a long shadow, one camera on a dolly, a couple silhouettes to represent the crowd. Elvis is dark, powerful, and stepping more and more into the role of superstar. The lower the budget, the more creative control one has and I think Coppola thrives with these kinds of monetary restrictions.

Even the way scenes start seemingly right in the middle of things. Priscilla's life is moving at a pace she can't really control. She's completely at the mercy of Elvis and his wants and desires. And it's so observational. We're just watching these people exist. It gets unbearable the more Priscilla is barred from living her own life. She's trapped behind the gates of Graceland. Alone.

I love that first scene when she first moves in with Elvis and she's kind of wandering around this huge home. She sits in the chair, then she scoots back and crosses her legs. Then she looks out the window. Then she's playing with the piano. She's trying to imagine herself there, feel herself growing into it. It's foreign and she's so out of place. Still, she tries to force her own belonging. What a great use of negative space!

The world always feels like it's going to choke the life out of Priscilla. Like it's against her and swallowing her up at the same time. Coppola proves again how well she portrays isolated, lonely characters.

I also think Elvis was portrayed pretty fairly. He's sensitive, but troubled. There is love between them, but it's complicated and a little sinister and Priscilla spends much of the movie convincing herself it's worth sticking around for. I think this biopic is a step in the right direction of highlighting a more unseen perspective. Again, Coppola was a great choice.

& those are my thoughts! :3

ashadhahaha

[gay-sin]

crocheting yarn is praying to god

i have spent a good amount of my free time lately thinking about yarn. i won a bid on ebay and bought some white mohair from a seller in florida for a great price. today i spent a very long time trying to get to a yarn store in cambridge. i had a lot of transit complications and had to walk a long time in the rain. i got there with my jeans and belongings soaked. my phone is in rice at the moment. it was worth it though because the store was amazing. it had so many kinds of quality yarns. i went around feeling them all for what must have been an hour. i tried to intuit what worsted vs woolen yarn was. there are so many things i don't know about yarn. all of the plastic yarns were very cheap. some wool yarn was cheap but the cheap wool felt very scratchy. i wanted soft yarn. i got two balls of 100% merino wool in bubble gum and rococo pink. i think i will make leg warmers with them. i'm not sure yet. i spent a long time feeling the alpaca yarn. i let myself splurge and get a $20 skein of 100% alpaca yarn in a muted blue color. the tag said that the yarn was "non-mulesed" which i read as non-molested. turns out mulesing is "a painful procedure that involves cutting crescent-shaped flaps of skin from around a lamb's breech and tail using sharp shears designed specifically for this purpose." i looked up photos but i don't recommend that you do.

as an artist, there are always so many factors to consider when choosing materials. i have always preferred trash/found materials as they are the most affordable. there is so much that ends up in landfills so why not use these things to make art? i love the poetics of things that were thrown aside being given new life. i've always preferred thrifting clothing, yarn, fabric. but what i have realized with yarn, though, is that it is very hard to find quality yarn like that. most yarn is mixed with acrylic or polyester. before i took a class on fibers in the spring, i had no idea what my clothes were really made of. now i think about it a lot. i'm trying to train my senses to decipher these things. i had no idea that clothes could even be made out of plastic and now the thought that most clothes are made with plastic really disturbs me. if you can't tell if yarn is plastic, you can burn it and tell by the smell. i'm becoming a detective, trying to find the imposters in a world where the plastic version is so goddamn convincing. it makes me uneasy. it feels very metaphorical.

in my fiber arts class, we read chapters of books written by anni albers. she was an artist that co-founded the black mountain college. i want to go back and dive deeply into these things that i only had the time to skim in school. i wanted to reread this article we had to read of hers from class. it is called "tactile sensibilities" but i needed an institution login to read the whole thing. i hate academia.... i could access the first page though and it had the main points. i wanted to use them to discuss yarn. so here are a couple quotes...

"No wonder a faculty that is so largely unemployed in our daily plodding and bustling is degenerating. Our materials come to us already ground and chipped and crushed and powdered and mixed and sliced, so that only the finale in the long sequence of operations from matter to product is left to us: we merely toast the bread." "We touch things to assure ourselves of reality. We touch the objects of our love. We touch the things we form. Our tactile experiences are elemental. If we reduce their range, as we do when we reduce the necessity to form things ourselves, we grow lopsided."

i spent a long time wanting to make pointless art, just art for the sake of art. i still do sometimes but i have been very invested in fiber arts. they are the opposite of pointless art. it is so practical, ancient, useful. i have found a deep love for it that grounds me in ways i didn't even know that i needed so badly. i think there are so many things about the way we live now in such an industrialized, hyper-individualist plastic world that we are completely unaware the harms of.

i am very interested in religion and ritual and i love how this intersects with fiber arts for me. crocheting feels like a prayer. it feels like healing. i don't really like to crochet with plastic because it feels like it cuts me off from the cycle of it all. yesterday i started my day by crocheting for a long time before work. it put me in a beautiful mood and i felt patient and at ease all day. i have been needing that. i've been in such a bad mood for awhile, so tense, always in a rush. the yarn was wool and it sorta looked like the yarn that i had spun when i tried to spin yarn. it was thicker in some spots than others, making it feel real. i could imagine someone spinning it. spinning is such a beautiful process and i respect it so much. i hated it because it was so hard. it requires so much balance. i love the look of a spinning wheel. it reminds me of fairytales. i guess that just shows how far we have come from doing these things with our hands.... but anyways, i could imagine the sheep that grew the wool, the person that sheared the sheep. the yarn was probably spun by a machine, not a person, but i like to imagine it was spun on a wheel by a person. then, i crochet with the yarn. my crocheting is not a work of individual artistic genius, but the finishing step in a long process of labor and art, across time, species, places on earth. i'm employing techniques used for such a long time before me by so many wise and beautiful human beings. techniques i didn't invent and that i am still a humble beginner at. i make things that i can feel, touch, use, give. they can be used to keep me or those i love warmer in the winter, to hold my things, to make me feel more like myself. then, the things i make with these fibers can be reused or reworked when i no longer use them. when they fall apart, they can be reabsorbed into the earth, maybe they will become soil that will grow grass, that will be eaten by a sheep that will grow wool... the process continues. i am a small participant. that is a prayer to me. that is god to me.

this is what we lose when we don't make things with our hands, when we don't know where things come from. these are the skills that are deemed frivolous and inessential, not fast enough to turn profit. i think that these things are legitimately essential to being a person. most of fiber arts is historically women's work, based in traditions of indigenous people. it is not taken seriously in this culture and it is a shame because i really think that this is having grave consequences on everyone's wellbeing.

i was talking to my roommate's dad about how he had a maid when he lived in africa. he paid her very little but he said that it was still more than the norm. he said she could go get an education and "better herself" to get more money like him. it was a long conversation and there are so many layers to that mentality that are fuckedddd. but i just really don't understand how people actually believe that doing busy work for a corporation on a computer all day does anything of importance or requires any real intelligence at all. how is that "bettering yourself"? to alienate yourself even from your own space, never even touching the things you live with except to use them and toss them wherever for someone else to clean up?? the countless skills that come with cleaning are baffling to me. i have so much respect for cleaners. i am always learning the importance of cleaning and trying to do it well. i am naturally terrible at it and am currently trying my best to be better. to me, an office job is the place most void of intelligence. it's not at all the sort of intelligence that really matters to being alive or understanding what that means. whatever.

anyways, i made a bunny hat last weekend and i haven't been able to stop wearing it. it makes me so happy. i am very content with the idea of it getting colder because i will stay inside and crochet things. i will get to wear silly hats. i have been wearing the hat to work and the kids love it. people on the streets smile at me more. lots of people compliment me on it. for some reason, it makes me feel more like myself. maybe i'm a little bit of a furry. i made it with acrylic yarn because i had bought some awhile ago but i still really like it. maybe i will make one out of mohair. i want one with bigger ears. i want a collection of animal/monster hatwear.

here is a photo of me in the bunny hat and a drawing that one of the kids drew of me in the hat. i let the little girl that drew the picture try on the hat. it was so big on her little head. she is 5 and i love her very much.

[sycamorality]

talk about eclipse. send it

ahah. uhm. under cut. void knows ill go on for like 2 paragraphs

first of all, her ref:

incomprehensible jargon of notes probably i wrote these for myself. anyway. she's an ancient --- sort of? she's. definently more creature than ancient. she's a bioengineer, programmer, engineer and pupept designer! though her official designation of sorts of programmer. bioengineering shenanigans lead up to her being more creature. and totally not lore related. but i'd rather not put that on a public tumblr post because i haven't revealed it in rp yet lmao

18 wings! why? why not! they're actually used for communicating via broadcasts - the feathers can send short-distance signals via specific gestures that her communications panel responds to. she had to change/recalibrate it a Lot when she lost her right primary wing and it still took some time to get used to. she didn't always have 18 wings either, it was just her primary wings until much later. oh and, actually, here's an rp snippet from when she lost that wing:

my writing is lackluster but oh well. spears is not my character! he belongs to @/prismsoup. she then proceeded to have an existential crisis on the global line because she fears death more than anything (mind you this is post-mass ascension and pre-spearmaster). her left wing was lost in a void fluid accident - one of her superiors tried to force ascend her by throwing her in a vat of void fluid and that kind of. went Very wrong for him because he got echoed (suck that limit upon a silent vigil) and eclipse got out of that with only a burned wing! that never regrew. so now the iridescence on it looks like fire reflected through shattered glass - and sometimes, in the right lighting, like echo scales. meanwhile the iridscence on her other wings is much more gentle - appearing almost completely golden with a hint of many other colors under the light of a sunrise.

she has many scars - all of them are from her superior. he did Not like her for a Multitude of reasons and she flinches ayntime someone raises anything sharp at her and refuses to use anything but a spear because of it. this brings me to another part - she has a direct response that was coded in to her genome that, when shocked under distress, it will render her unable to speak and express any emotion because that sure is a way to get someone to listen to you huh. anyway the scar on her chest - as pointed out in the notes - never healed and will bleed if under stress. she's not vibing very well actually. not okay. she has The Horrors. many of them.

she much rather prefers to walk like a quadruped - though she can walk on two legs and four. she is some sort of [Weird Cat] and i love her for it. even her own wing bioluminescence and iridescence distracts her! she has an awful attention span but will focus intensly if you ask her about bioengineering or programming and will do her best not to ramble on for too long unless explicitly told that she can go on for as long as she wants to. she's very expressive! she can and will exaggerate her body language and flash her wings about for the sake of it.

misc notes:

she represses her emotions! woo! she's. very good at it. which is Bad

she's the programmer, engineer and puppet designer of my dude whispers of silver and appointed his slugcat (broadcast slugcat) senior for the sake of it. it was funny. and why not

she chitters, chirps and purrs. literally. she can speak but why speak when you can just mrrrrrp

her feather streamers move about whenever she's expression emotion

she hunted vultures for sport and liked carving their masks to trade them. despite this the local scavenger tribe hates her guts

she's never lived on an iterator superstructure! like, ever! this means that yea she hunted things for survival. she did however visit silver a lot and vibed in his chamber. they were very close.

unrelated to her canon at all btw but like in the silly rp she's go ther scars healed and is absolutely vibing being a weird cat. though uh maybe she's gonna yell at spears. maybe. (she totally is)

[kinocomix]

Metal band story devlog 10: OKAY. CHARACTER DESIGNS. LET’S GET TO IT.

So initially when I finally decided it was time for some character designs I faced a problem. It was not a lack of skill or frustration at my art, it was the fact that I don’t know what I’m designing really. let me explain:

I think a very important thing to do in general is to be aware of your shortcomings and I try to apply this rule to myself as often as possible without it being self destructive. one of those shortcomings is my inability to draw things that I’m not personally familiar with.

I don’t think I would have ever drawn shoes that weren’t my own, so you can imagine what that says about characters and people.

This tends to bleed into art block and a good solution for it is to usually find inspiration somewhere. I don’t like doing that, nothing wrong about it and before you accuse me of being on my high horse I will gently remind you and myself that there is nothing new under the sun. I will inevitably end up being inspired by something even if I’m not actively aware of it but I find that basing a design on someone else’s design feels derivative, which setting aside the legal issues of me wanting to publish potentially copied designs, isn’t very nice of me to do to my fellow artists. I’m better than that. In any case I needed to try to start somewhere so I tried making a design for character A. this is the classical musician. I didn’t base the design on their personality because that never not felt weird to me. I don’t want to know what someone is like when I see them, that’s not how people work. 

here is the pathetic first attempt, where i went in with “they’re probably tall and skinny” in mind:

I knew that A would be a classical musician, so I really wanted to include at least a vague reference to one of my favourite pianists, Nahre Sol. I think she’s very cool and so I opted to make A’s hair similar to her’s.

The actual image is upside down

It still looked boring as fuck tho so as is the case with character design, you iterate.

Here you can see I drew a crane, which is a thing you can do when you think designing people is boring as fuck which it usually is if you don’t have fun with the shapes. I really liked how the crane’s body looked like a teardrop and how long the legs were, it also was mostly black and white which went well with the “classical musician who wears classical clothes” vibe.

So I tried a more geometric approach, with long legs but It didn’t fit into the vibe I had in mind and the feet were so comically large i anticipated people would be distracted by it:

I defaulted back to a more organic looking teardrop shape and ended up with this which i liked:

Let’s note a couple of things about this: I liked the eyes, but i very quickly realised I can’t have that be the default shape of the eyes, because please look at this monstrosity: 

I came back to it the next day and made a realisation: those are some big legs. So I decided to lean into it and thought It would be cool if she was strong and muscular, and you’ll note that I’m saying “she”, we’ll get to that in a moment.

I had taken the time to think about the fact that I'd like her more if she was more in context. Because floating in the void like that, she’s just some character which was bothering me. So I started small and made a height chart with some general body types/shapes:

This made me more confident in the design because it had some story now, she was very tall and imposing. 

I was reminded of a tweet by Pseudonymjones where she talks about a kid who saw her and called her “the lady with the big muscles” which i thought was cool as fuck in may 2019 and still think is cool as fuck now.

This made me like the character so much more and It made sense to me because of everything that I knew so far about the character and the setting that she would be trans. All my research showed that metal musicians would be very likely to be normal understanding human beings and I already know what not to do and what’s preferable from the research I did for Almost Home.

So I present to you the first sketch of Leila:

Note: when designing characters I always design them naked, because clothes a character design does not make. They help, but you can’t start there.

Obviously the design will evolve naturally (and by the end of this devlog update) and get polished the more I draw her but I think this is a solid start. For starters let’s fix those ankles and draw some more sketches to get a feel for what Leila is like when she moves.

Okay, I’m digging the vibe. I also drew this other one where I forgot to factor in the pelvis when accounting for the length of the legs, so i went ahead and tried to edit it:

It looks a bit better, the legs still look gigantic but I think I want to keep that. I imagine she goes to the gym quite frequently on account of being a tryhard. Perhaps that’s one of the things I could explore in the story?

I also tried messing around with her face a bit. I ended up sticking to the one I originally made, which felt the most natural. Maybe that says something about me and how I go with the first thing I see, but it is what it is.

Also here’s a tip for anyone who might need it, you know those doll dress up games where you drag PNGs onto the model? You can use that system when trying to make variations of a design. I did it with a light pad.

This was when I consulted a friend of mine, Alaa. He pointed out the limbs i drew looked kind of ballooney. This wasn't from a lack of reference, it was the abstraction that was done improperly. You see here's two things to keep in mind: firstly I didn't want her to look muscular despite how strong she is. Obviously some of it is bound to show what with her legs as you'll see but I wanted her to seem like a quirky human at first. Secondly, while it's true that I tried to make the limbs with contracted muscles bigger if that's not tastefully done then it just looks silly. So here's where we're at now:

To the left here's you'll note two things, Alaa suggested making her five heads tall instead of 6 which we'll get to in a moment, and the fact that the musculature seems more real now. Here's what i decided to take from his suggestion: i like that the muscles look nicer in the legs, so i changed the legs to match and shortened the pelvis to make her a head shorter. Now about that missing head. Initially while this made the proportions better this also made her shorter which goes against the “awesome towering person” effect i wanted to give her so i had 2 options. I either could keep the extra length but try to fit it in somewhere which could work but it would add extra time to this entire process which I do not have and I am one human being; OR I could simply scale her up. This would make her base circle bigger which would require some quick math every time i need to put her in a scene but that's not an issue for me. 

And this is where we ended up. This is something we can use to make a turn around ref sheet once we have an outfit(s). For reference, I drew Graham from Almost home who is about the size of an average human:

Yes, Charlie and Graham are not actually short. Everyone is just taller than them cause that's my experience being short, It just never came up lol

Here's what I like about this and here's what I'm glad I did not include: I like the cartooney proportions that still show some respect to the human. I like that she has the stubborn belly fat that some body builders struggle with. I like that while she looks imposing and is to some extent, a lot of her personality traits will contrast that and give her depth and nuance. (Also in case you're curious, her base circle is 1.2 times the size of average characters)

A final note, which is by no means an insult to any stylistic approach or artist, there's a fine line to tread between “muscular curvy woman” and “pixar mom”. Here's a drawing on the back of a receipt that a friend drew with some suggestions on how to push the proportions. Solid suggestions, but they don't really fit the vibe I'm going for which is fine- when we make art not everyone is going to like it and that's just how things are.

And yes, she's still naked. Clothes come at the very end when we know we have all the proportions and visual quirks figured out. Buuut that's something I won't include in the devlog. Gotta draw the line of “okay, spoilers” somewhere. Next week, we'll start doing the rest of the cast.

Devlog updates on Tuesdays.

[arithecreatorsstuff]

Brother's Keeper

Abel wakes up. And his new sister has a chat with him.

I had just finished my nap with the Doctor, whom made an amazing recovery in a few hours time. We were just setting up a... ahem... follow up appointment when the "Oh Shit!" alarm, as the Security guys call it, started blaring.

"Agent Rabbit, report to 076 Containment immediately. Repeat, Agent Rabbit, report to 076 Containment immediately. All other personell are to report to the Designated Safe Zones as instructed. 343 help us all."

"Great. I now have to go see what kind of crap the big Sumerian meathead is trying to pull this time. Chances are, my darling, I may be back soon, but as a patient."

"Be careful, sweet Angeline. Or I might just have to cure him."

"I'm not sure if he has the Pestilence yet, unless being the biggest jerk in history is a symptom. Nevertheless... I'm going to be very careful with him."

"I hope you have a plan."

"I do. I'm just hoping it never moves beyond step one: explain to him he's not just killing people, but causing untold amounts of pain and grief. If all else fails... there's always Dr. Clef's favorite prescription, several rounds to the head from a shotgun." I give my dearest one final kiss for luck, and try to talk my idiot brother out of something stupid.

I reach his containment unit, brace myself, and go in. The security guards on the turret guns are, amazingly, merely terrified, and alive. Good. Big Brother is pacing in front of his cube, but he's unarmed for a nice change. Which means I can try being logical with him. For now. He looks up, and sees me.

"You came back? I tried to kill you, and you came back." He sighs. "You're braver than I thought, Little Sister."

"Siblings fight all the time. It doesn't mean they don't care about each other. Besides, I can kinda get the whole urge to go on a rampage thing. I'm not condoning it, but I can undestand it." I sit down cross-legged, and he follows suit. "That being said, I asked to take a look at your file a while back. It says you vastly prefer killing to causing pain. Okay, but... by killing every single human you come in contact with, you cause their families untold amounts of it. Think about it. Every one of them, someone's father, or sister, or brother. Sons, daughters, wives... grandchildren, cousins, friends, even coworkers... they all suffer for every single person you kill. I suffer each time you break out and go nuts. Not just because I care for a lot of people here, but because I care about you too. And, having to hurt you hurts me even more." I look him in the eye, steel grey to ocean blue. "I don't want to hurt you. You're my big brother, and I love you. Besides, you've been through enough."

He blinks, processing. Then, something anomalous even by our generous standards happens. He's thinking. Really thinking, and about his behavior.

"I'm sorry, Little Sister. It is true, I have endured many trials. I fought, and killed, and never thought about it, I was so blinded by my rage. But, it may be too late to change for me, my sister. My whole life has been a battlefield. Secretly, I tire of it at times. It is, however, all I know. How do I change? Can I even?"

"Change takes time. But... that's not a problem for you, is it?" I grab my brother's hand, and gently squeeze. "I'll be here to help. Just take it one step at a time, just like learning any skill. I'm not expecting miracles here."

"Very well. I will try not to kill anyone not trying to kill us first. After all, a good brother should protect his younger siblings as a shepherd tends their flock, but will fight off any threat to them. You and Iris, you're all I have now. My sisters. And woe to anyone who harms either of you."

"That cuts both ways. Anyone trying to hurt you, Iris, hell, even Clef... it won't be pretty. Family takes care of their own. Granted, Clef is clearly the weird uncle no one talks about but still somehow shows up to all the functions, but he's family." Abel laughs. I think I like him laughing a lot more, he has this huge laugh. It shakes him all over. His eyes are squinted a bit, and he's turning slightly pink in his cheeks. Eventually, the laughter dies down.

We're still talking when a nervous Security guy approaches.

"Uh... is everything okay here? Should I tell Site Command to relax now?" Abel and I exchange quick glances. He then gives the guard a thumbs up. The guard looks like he's about to simultaneously need new trousers and faint, but the alert is called off. Big Brother and I stand up. I hug my brother, glad he at least heard me out. He ruffles my hair, and steps back into his cube. Like I told him, I'm not expecting a miracle. But at least him not killing anyone today is a start.