#I'll worry about the characters later

[anxious-chaos-art]

In honor of ep 4 dropping today here’s my page of kips!

[lunaryhues]

Me: "Can I please use all this energy to draw on an actual project"

My brain: "You will draw the same character over and over and you will like it."

Me: "Okay."

[narsh-poptarts]

im unfortunately away from my tablet for a week because traveling but i did my first artfight attack!!! (er... friendly fire) :DDD @u3pxx mine and your sonas are shaking hands, love blooming on the battle field is what i LIVE for

u3pxx on Artfight

Me on Artfight

[razzware]

pictures? messy pictures anyone ?

(ft. my whimsical wanda at the ganja mod rotation)

[oxventure-text-posts]

I'm gonna be honest with you guys, the urge to do the same thing I did with the oitd silhouettes, aka slap text posts onto the art with no knowledge of their canon personality other than what they did in the trailer and pulling from the fandom's perceived personality for them, for the new oxventure characters revealed in that trailer is so real

[leucoratia]

Kraz, royal healer

Kraz (Razzy if they like you(but they like everyone)(except Jerry)) is a human (?) mage who voluntarily exiled themselves to the underground to follow monsterkind during the war. They are later appointed royal healer by the king and queen and has devoted themselves to the betterment of monster society ever since. They are the only human the royal scientist ever tolerated (although would you call sharing lab coats and beds tolerating or...something else?)

Information

-Species : mage (half monster, half human)

-Age : older than the barrier. As long as they will to live, it appears that a mage cannot age.

-Gender : apparently born a female, although it is unclear how sexual dimorphism develops in mages. Kraz does not specifically care.

-Soul : Green

-Height : 1.99m (6'5)

-Hair colour : Black (somehow iridescent ?)

-Eye colour : deep dark brown. Their sclera is grey as well.

-Build : sickly thin, actually skin and bones. They never eat much of anything, claiming that they do not need a lot of food. It worries people quite a lot, especially Toriel, but they have been like this for hundreds of years so... at least they're not dead ? Still, they scare the kids.

-Personnality : a sweet, calming presence. They exude an aura which makes anyone around them feel at peace. Although they are quite akward and generally anxious, they smile easily and brightly. Kraz is very friendly, caring, and kind to a fault. Has quite an outdated manner of speech. A jokester. Always does their best to please people around them. Deeply devoted. Probably has some sort of attention deficit. Easily fascinated. Suffers from chronic bird behaviour (will bring you trinkets??).

-Likes : gardening, playing the piano, snow, cooking, puzzles, collecting shiny trinkets, science, herbal medicine, cultivating bacteria, fuzzy and furry fabrics, gift giving, late 1800's fashion, dark spaces, funny socks, Gaster.

-Dislikes : loud noises (especially clamoring crowds), being watched, sudden movements, bright reflective surfaces, small enclosed spaces, bitter foods, novelty and breaking their routine.

Backstory

Kraz was born to a human mother and a monster father during the war, as mages often are. Abandoned by their mother, who could not endure the shame of their birth, they were taken under their father’s wing and raised amongst a small monster village. Early on, they manifested an extremely intense green soul and spectacular magical power, even for a mage. Although unequipped and unprepared to nurture such potential, the monsters in Kraz's community did their best to encourage the toddler's magical prowess, such as having them heal cuts and bruises, or speed up a few carrots' growth. But as war progressed, human armies swept through monster territory and eventually raided the child's village, pillaging and slaughtering everyone in their path. In these times mages were rare, being the product of monster-human relationships, but extremely sought after by humanity, who could only manifest minor magic potential. Stumbling upon the young Kraz and recognising in their physiology the traits of a "hybrid", human soldiers immediately identified them as a mage and took them away to be raised amongst humans. Their father, if he ever survived the attack, never stopped looking for his little bird until his dust settled on the ground. And so Kraz was raised in human war camps and settlements, amongst soldiers and other mages. Being so young, they only ever had vague memories of their time amongst monsters and soon put them to rest. As they grew, their healing powers grew with them, and it was soon clear to the commanders that Kraz may as well be the most spectacular healer that they had ever known, capable of rising men at death's door back on their feet and ready to fight in mere minutes. Suffice to say, as one of their greatest asset, they were sent from battlefield to battlefield, from division to division in order to rise the almost dead and reinforce the dwindling human forces. But they had a fault. Kraz, at their heart, was kind. Compassionate. Caring. And oh so, so young still, no more than fifteen. And the pain, the suffering inflicted by and to monsters broke their soul into pieces. See, despite all the propaganda, they could never quite bring themselves to hate monsters. Hate half of themselves. And so in the midst of the battle's confusion, in secret, they would slip a hand or a green bullet towards a bleeding frog here. A dusting lion there. They wished they could just run to them and pour their whole magic into the wounded, but the human soldiers watched them. Always. But eventually, as war was nearing its end, temptation was too great. They could take it no more. And so during a bloody battle, they slipped away from the soldiers surrounding them and ran to a fallen monster, who was already dusting away. A skeleton. The young mage fell to their knees, reaching for the monster's broken face with magic already at their fingertips and reassurances spilling from their lip, and poured everything they had left as the soldier tried to struggle and speak. He barely was able to call to them, in a language they didn't know, his bones just starting to reform, but fate is oh so cruel. Kraz could only slip their guard's attention for so long, and just as life started to flicker back in the man's face, they were torn off his bloodied body and promptly covered in his dust, their work undone by the fall of a sword. As the soldiers dragged the teen away, they could only claw down at the dusty floor to rack up the dust, and a nametag. Dingbats.

"Traitor", they were deemed. "An error of nature", "a freak", they were called. But a valuable freak nonetheless. Their magical abilities were still wholly unmatched through all of the land. They were needed. And so Kraz was beaten down, corrected, whipped back into shape. Into following orders. Royals spoke of banishment. Of a barrier. And they needed mages.

Finally, monsters were defeated. They were to be sealed underground. Kraz and the other mages assembled, staring down at a beaten monsterkind, a sea of eyes and bleeding hearts crying out at them as they chanted the words.

They couldn't do it. They couldn't.

They ran to them.

As the barrier rose up, this child fell to their knees in front of Asgore and Toriel and begged them to let them stay. To right this wrong. To help. They did.

And so Kraz poured their heart out. It wasn't easy, getting monsters to accept human help, even though they shared some physical traits. They slaved away for nothing in return, growing crops magically in dead ground and never taking even a grain of wheat for themselves. Endlessly imbuing water with their energy to create remedies for everyone. Only accepting the bare minimum of food to stay alive, even though they felt as if they were tearing this food away from the hands of the needy. They tried so, so hard to repair humanity's sins. Clear their name in the eyes of monsters.

And eventually, it somewhat worked. Instead of frowns, they were faced with smiles. Children stopped crying when they saw the healer's incomplete beak and started to spare them a smile. The elderly stopped refusing treatment from them. And even though they still had to face a seemingly unclimbable wall as they began further studies in medicine, biology and microbiology, chemistry, agricultural sciences, magical studies, anything to broaden their knowledge and help, they made it. (No thanks to the shy, awkward, standoffish and straight up rude engineering-chemistry-physics student which whom the king and queen pushed Kraz to hang out with. They said that it would "help the both of you, you kids would work beautifully together". Not that the mage minded, as a matter of fact they quite enjoyed his presence and always did their best to be agreeable and overall lovely company; but the skeleton never quite seemed to get over his absolute loathing of humans. Oh well, no matter. They'll keep trying anyways.). Eventually they did succeed and ascended to the position of "tolerable fellow student who I regularly hang out with" in the eyes of their adversary. When Kraz got their first doctorate, in medicine, WingDings even cracked a smile. And as the two completed their studies, the now mage-doctor was promoted to "acceptable collaborator". A win for the ages!

Kraz finally moved out of the derelict place they were practicing medicine in since the war to a more acceptable place (which was, well, their newly furnished house, courtesy of the royal family for their friendship and as a congratulatory gift for their doctorate) and kept working as always. But with an official title to strengthen their position, and what some may call a reluctant friend, things seemed lighter. Monsters were flocking to their office, business (which was still free but their patients insisted on leaving little somethings) was booming, their ties to their fellow "collaborator " deepening, and the doctor became sincerely appreciated in their community. Maybe not in all monsterdom yet, memories of the war never quite fading, but it was progress. Things were going well.

But it seemed that fate had other plans.

One day, plague broke out. The illness decimated monster populations, entire families perishing from an unknown condition.

And Kraz, oh Kraz, tried everything. Every spell, every potion, every cure they could think of. Nothing worked. They asked for help to the other healers, consulted with other scientists, even asked the engineers if they could think of something, anything. Nothing worked. They could only watch as the malady swept through monsters, powerless to watch them die, just like they did during the war.

No. No.

They would not stand for it, they would not STAND FOR THIS !! They will find a cure. At any cost.

They locked themselves in their laboratory.

One day. Two days.

Three days.

Six days.

Eight days.

Their colleagues had tried banging on the door, shouting at them to come out, to go home, they would not answer. They called for the doctor’s friends, to no avail. Eventually, it was WingDings Gaster, the royal scientist himself, to be at their door threatening them to “kick their feathery ass if it’s the last thing he does” in order to get them to open the damn door.

No answer.

But the royal scientist was a stubborn man. And when words failed, he proceeded to take the door’s security system apart and barge into the lab, only to be taken aback by the stench. He covered his non-existent nose with a sleeve and bit back the urge to let last night’s dinner see the light of day again, ushering the doctor’s worried coworkers away. It reeked of illness. It reeked of plague. The skeleton, being the only one without lungs and hence immune to all airborne diseases, made his way through the mess of papers, vials and…patches of blood and hair…to the form bent over his friend’s table. Kraz was staring straight at him with their big, beady dark eyes which seemed to be glazed over. They looked even paler than they usually do, which is to say whiter than snow, and seemed so frail that they could snap at any moment. Their face was also swimming in what seemed to be bloodied spit, over a mountain of papers scribbled with words that made no sense. Suffice to say, they looked like death itself. They looked dead.

It was as if Gaster’s bones were made of ice. Barely thinking, he grabbed his friend’s limp body, by Asgore were they TALL, and zapped away somewhere safe. Somewhere clean. His place, apparently.

He cleaned Kraz. Changed them. Laid them in bed. Listened to their delirious babbles, relieved that at least they were alive. In a moment of clarity, the doctor pleaded him to retrieve some instruments from their lab and conduct a series of tests on samples of their blood, which he was urged to collect daily.

“I need to help them Dings. Please. Please, I beg of you, do this for them. Or else I would have done this for nothing. Please.”

Eventually, the unthinkable happened. They got better, the little colour their cheeks normally had returned. As soon as the healer could walk again, they were out of their friend’s house and back in their lab (ignoring everyone’s admonishments). Barely a week later, there was a cure for the seemingly incurable plague.

Monsterkind was saved.

And everything was truly fine. Kraz was promoted to Royal Doctor (a fact they endlessly teased Gaster with, because Now you can’t boss me around anymore mister science man), was granted a whole department in the Hotland labs, and was now revered though the kingdom! Their promotion to head doctor was also accompanied by another, to the exclusive rank of “beloved special stupid idiot who gave themselves the plague” in the soul of a certain someone. They weren’t going to live that one down anytime soon. But well, when the royal scientist’s coworkers noticed that his lunch was packed daily in the common room fridge with “Do not forget nourishment today dear, I will see you tonight at our usual, -A stupid idiot “stuck to it, let’s say that the air in the Core labs was decidedly more pleasant. And Alphys, a young intern that the Doctor befriended during one of their numerous visits to their collaborator-friend-lover(?),  could barely contain her gushing to anyone that might listen.

Yes. Times were good.

Until a human fell.

[buttercup-barf]

Tried to adapt the OMORI cast to my art style!

I should probably do that one meme where people draw their real world portraits, huh...

[the-love-cult]

hiya doll .

weekly reminder that im never ever gonna ever be normal about tempus and that i wish him the best and i hope he getz to eat delicious . delicious shark gummiez and drink the highest quality sparkling water and that im sending loadz of kissez hiz way (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

He gets plenty of gummy sharks and high quality sparkling water don't worry, All he needs to do is justify a reason to bury his parents and life will finally start looking up (Well..........) ANYWAYS YOU'RE THE ONE TO TALK? I love your version of these characters so much I've been meaning to stop by again and talk to you just know I think about High Voltage a lot more than I'd like to admit WHICH IS GOOD!! That means your story did something to the chemicals in my brain at least for what you've revealed SO FAR

[hishedonism]

like this post if you want me to follow you from my dylan lenivy & nick furcillo blog once it's up & running btw !

[drivinmeinsane]

Thoughts on Driver as a romantic partner

He's not inclined to talk much. He never mastered small talk, but he could listen to you speak all day long. He's an active listener and mentally files away anything you say that might be important. He shows his affection with acts of service, especially if it's related in any way, shape, or form to vehicles. Anything your car ever needs? Done and done. It'll never run better. Although, Driver will always insist on taking you places himself regardless of how well he maintains your vehicle. Despite some complicated feelings, he wants to be part of a family even if that family is made up of just the two of you. He wants to be wanted. He lives for the little domesticities. Quiet nights in front of the TV with your legs over his lap are his favorite. He's a paranoid overthinker and too trigger happy. He tries to hide his violent tendencies from you, but you can still see the edges of them. He's not necessarily a jealous man, but he is a protective one. Possessive. There is no hesitation when it comes to defending you. Any slight directed towards you does not bode well for the offender's wellbeing. He'll take the excuse to lash out. His idea of a date is to take you out on a drive. He's intimately familiar with the city and its hidden spots. He takes you to tucked away places and hole in the wall eateries you would have never known existed. He's especially fond of Mexican food. He's content when he sees the wonder on your face at each new surprise. He yields and softens just for you. You easily bring that shy smile of his to life. He talks to you more than he talks to anyone else. Driver has a tendency to watch you. He had his eyes on you without your knowledge long before you two became an item. His obsessive observation does not go away even now that he has you. You often wake to find him staring at you. The man rarely sleeps. His schedule is erratic. He doesn't disclose what he does at night. It's better that way. He always comes back to you. He'll slip into bed with you in the late hours of the night, smelling of leather and oil. He's always warm. With you in his life, he has eyes for no one else. He's not overly sentimental. All his belongings can fit into a duffle bag that he can toss into his trunk ever few months, but you're the one thing he can't compartmentalize. He uses any excuse to drape his jacket over you. The item of clothing comforts him so he supposes it ought to comfort you as well. He wants to share that feeling of security with you. He's dense when it comes to sentimental emotions or flirtatious intentions that are directed at him. He simultaneously infers too much and not enough. You have to be forward and direct with him.

18+ thoughts below the cut.

He's got a hair trigger. If he even thinks too hard about kissing you, he's all but cumming in his pants. He has a very vivid imagination. It's a problem.

He's intense and consuming. Any sexual interaction with him feels like he will devour you whole. He's not slow, he does not take his time. He's not one for savoring the moment. He likes it hard, fast, and messy.

He's always silent while he gets off. His breathing is ragged and he open-mouthed pants, but he does not whine or moan. The most you'll get is a low groan that sounds more like a growl when he cums.

His libido is high. All too often, he gets unexpectedly and painfully aroused. It's common for him desperately jerk off while thinking about you, fantasizing about things you've done or he would like you to do. Most fantasies are centralized around his car. It's like an extension of him. He bounces from crappy apartment to crappy apartment but the car remains the same.

Driver has an intense praise kink. He wants to be put down on his knees, pressed back against a seat, or pushed down on his stomach over the hood of his car. Anything. He's desperate to be told he's doing so good, what a good boy, good job, Driver.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Nothing brings out how petty I am capable of being quite like ck3

[raiiny-bay]

made 2 of cricket's group members so far - 3 more to go

[qstarhalo]

OKAY OKAY I ACTUALLY NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS

For those who don't know, there's this web + TV series called "Don't Hug Me I'm Scared" (shortened as "dhmis") where this trio of puppets get taught these lessons throughout their day. However, these lessons aren't exactly taught really well and it all turns into chaos. But at the end, it all goes back to some type of normal (or for some episodes anyways (mostly from the TV series)).

Now that we have that out of the way, I can talk about the demons! The trio in dhmis don't really have names (they've only been dubbed as Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Duck) so I wanted to do the same but give some meaning to them, ones that I won't mention in this post because I'm still not too settled on Mouse's. But here are the names we'll be using:

Badboyhalo - Bad

IronMouse - Mouse

Tina - Angel

Now, I know that last one is confusing but trust me, I have a reason for it.

I like to think that this is kind of a purgatory for them but they don't quite remember, nor does it make sense that Mouse is there since she isn't a fallen angel like the two of them. But we'll get into that a different time.

I also like the idea of Bad being there before the two and has come to terms with it and is trying to figure a way out. He doesn't quite remember when Mouse appeared, nor when Angel appeared, but they certainly didn't arrive together. But they're nice to have around, aside from the arguments they get themselves into.

And that's mostly it for this post. If I ever get the time, maybe I'll draw some designs and if I get a good photo, I'll post them here! :D If you have any questions, PLEASE feel free to ask (especially because it'll help figuring some stuff out!)

[enter-theexit]

sometimes i worry i get the character of four horribly wrong and then i remember "oh yea, i can just rewrite it tomorrow after i watch an episode"

[maskyartist]

you ever make an au that no one but u and ur wife could understand?

anyways theres intricacy here but ur gonna have to unlock that

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Maybe the trick is to come up with the meta after I start writing. After failing to finish so many started stories, I got in the habit of having an outline and characters and themes before I started a story. But the stories I've finished lately have been much more spur-of-the-moment. I'll have a basic idea for what I want to happen in the story, start writing, and then start digging deeper as the stuff I write gives me new ideas about how the story should go and what the story means.

This means the writing process is a continuation of the fun brainstorming process, rather than a frustrating failure to live up to the cool story I came up with during the brainstorming process. I don't have to try to fit in all the cool foreshadowing and set up character traits or whatever. I can just write and have fun watching the story grow. It's not outlining or discovery writing or even "plantsing". It's just trusting that I know how to shape a story and letting myself have fun doing it. By letting the ideas take shape with the writing rather than coming up with too much cool stuff before.