#again though its just an unfinished sketch

[clickbeetle]

Thought I'd put my slays together into one post.

Also I heard there was some fan art thing happening? hi

Bonus normal(?) Cage that I probably won't finish or fix the anatomy of. Don't look too closely.

[sleepyseals]

[Image Description: Two unfinished digital paintings / sketches of the hatchling and Hal from outer wilds. they are standing with their arms around each other and the hatchling has their head leaning on hal's shoulder as hal watches the supernova in the distance through the doorway of the museum. the first image is the scene viewed from behind with everything lit in bright blue with dark shadows. the second image shows hal's face looking in fear towards the light and is only partially colored, the rest sketched over a gray background. End Image Description.]

something you'll run back in for when the house burns down

[blacknight7890]

welp, essay time, lets talk about the clown in the room.

the amazing digital circus spoilers below!

so, Kaufmo's room.

The room of a mad man and a recently "abstracted" human. we don't know much about Kaufmo, other than he told unfunny jokes and was looking for a way out. He lost his mind at some point and got "abstracted" as the result.

What this means and how it happens is hard to say for sure as of now, but madness seems to be the main cause of it. Before he turned however, he has spread his madness to the rest of his room, so lets look at what we have here.

Most of it is simply the word "exit" over and over and over and over again with some disturbing art as well.

"EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT EXIT"

However, there are some exceptions. Certain spots have partially readable writing on them. To start with, the head of his bed.

"CAN'T SLEEP"

Its partially obscured, but its location behind the pillow make it obvious what it says. They say that they don't need to sleep, but this implies that he wanted to sleep, but couldn't. If that is due to just his madness, or something else its hard to say. Hard to know what that means as of now, but its something to note.

Now the sketch on the back wall. The phrase is fairly self explanatory, as far as we know, there is no way out of the circus. Not much to say about that, but the drawing is interesting. A fanged Cain chasing after Kaufmo. Seems he has a fear of the ringmaster, understandable at first, but further thinking makes you ask some questions.

"NO WAY OUT"

We see at the end of the episode that Cain actually tried to make an exit for them, but never finished his simulated version of the outside. When we first see him dancing around the idea of an exit door, we assume malicious intent. However, its more likely he was referring to this exit, rather than an actual way to leave.

This place is clearly a fabrication of the world outside The Amazing Digital Circus, one half built by Cain. He said he made it because everyone kept asking about it, but never finished it and didn't want them seeing his unfinished work. He also didn't want them ending up in the void, a slightly more important reason to keep it locked up.

But regardless, he did try to actually appease them, give the trapped humans the closest approximation to freedom he could. Its clear that Cain is not in full total control of the circus, its possible that even he doesn't know how to leave.

Anyway, back to my point. Cain is weird, strange, and insane, but he's not really "evil", so Kaufmo's depiction of him doesn't make total sense. But then again, the eyes of madness are hardly a reliable source. We will need to see more of him to learn his true intentions, but for now he just seems unhinged rather than actually bad.

Back to the room though, there is one more thing I want to go over, the foot of his bed.

"WHAT DID THE E------ SAY TO THE C--------"

this one is hard to determine, but thankfully for us, this isn't the only place we see this sentence. We also see it scrawled onto one of the paintings in the wide shot.

"WHAT DID THE EXIT SAY TO THE CLOWN?"

Now at first this seems nonsensical, but remember who wrote this. Kaufmo liked to tell jokes, this is the only real thing we know about him. In that light this is clearly worded as the setup to a joke. This begs the question on what the punchline is, but it also implies that the supposed "exit" somehow communicated with him. Probably not but its something to note.

We have no idea what the punchline could be at this moment sadly. It could be that him abstracting could metaphorically be the "punchline", or the lack of a response from the exit might also be it, hard to say.

"NO EXIT"

This is all what I can really determine from what we have seen in this room, other than interpretations of his various framed paintings, but I'll leave that to an art major or something.

Of course we have to ask if the "Exit" that he refers to even is the same exit Pomni found. They might have found something else, or maybe that exit door is a lot more important than we know. Maybe that weird computer is important.

Pomni seemed familiar enough with it that the mere sight of it sent her laughing mad. That vr headset looking thing is probably what she put on to get there.

All of this is just observations and speculation on the future, and I can't wait for the next episode!

[na-t0]

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth...shit, what's next?"

Despite of what others think, Nicholas D. Wolfwood has come to the conclusion that he is indeed, the perfect example to belie the thought commonly held by people that him, and all the other children of the Lord who is high in the heavens, are made in his image and likeness. He is just a man, a mere mortal, vulnerable and weak in the face of temptation, son of original sin. Trying to atone for, and amend, the errors that life has brought within his path, and from which he cannot seem to escape.

Same life that unfortunately has also placed him in the way of your so intoxicating self. As if it were an unforgivable and cruel test to endure the strength of his already cracked spirit, a test to prove how much he is capable of resisting when the sharp claws of lust slowly scratch his back when he tries to sleep and the image of your beautiful face invades his mind. He also claims being able to feel them scratching once again when, after what seems like an eternal week of waiting, he manages to spot you sitting among the 47 people that fit in the orphanage’s chapel at the time of the religious ceremony he presents on Sundays at 10 in the morning.

Nicholas talks to himself all the time. He talks about a whole bunch of different things to stay busy and distant from the loneliness that his profession entails. He also writes, on a small black notebook that shamelessly reads Holy Bible on its cover, which he keeps in the inside pocket of his suit all day. It is possible to find random thoughts scrambled between its pages, occasional unfinished sketches of the kids who visit him frequently, prayers and attempts at poetry that, despite the ease he possesses to release a speech towards an audience made up of people full of faith in the word he preaches every weekend, the simple idea that one day you might inadvertently read what lies on those yellowish paper sheets terrifies him to the point where he can feel each and every one of his nerve endings on the surface of his skin, pulsing with the same intensity as the wings of a flying hummingbird.

He writes for you, more specifically. Even though in life, there are weaknesses that sometimes, do not allow the deepest feelings of the heart to flourish freely.

"I am just an object waiting to be ashes, and it is precisely for that reason that I would like my body to burn until it is consumed as one with yours. So at the end, dust will be the only thing that remains of our spirits, mixed together, to be later carried away by the wind of this unforgiving desert we call home."

“I have reached such a degree of insanity that, not even with the help of a thousand divine healing rites, my composure will return. I have even considered exchanging the blood of as many sinners as necessary to the Devil in order to melt into the blazing but purifying fire that surely arises with the single touch of your lips, and if you allow me, to endulge in the perfect contradiction that lies between your legs. A place both sacred and infernal, a place where good and evil converge and is powerful enough to drive even the most righteous and ruthless of religionists to an infinite madness. A place that I can only imagine feels like heaven and hell at the same time, capable to burn but also soothe the wounds in the soul of a disgraceful believer, one such as myself, your humble servant.”

“And I am not ashamed to affirm in front of the cross in which the son of God was punished because of filth like me, that, your mere presence encourages me to violate every order imposed by the invisible power of my belief, all that for what he, the same guy I mentioned earlier, sacrificed himself for in the first place. He sacrificed himself for you and especially for me, and above all, for the atrocities that come with the human race to disappear from the world. Such as the kind of things that flood my mind when my gaze manages to distinguish a little glimpse of your underwear when you put on that pretty dress of yours and you take a seat in the front row. A dress I like to imagine you only use for me.”

When Sunday comes, the ceremony starts and it's your turn at the moment of communion. It all happens in a matter of minutes every single time, a fleeting contact that is difficult to remove from his system. The host is delicately held by Wolfwood's hands as he stares at you, the abyss of his obsidian orbs capturing your attention to ask for your permission. You nod and look back at him too, subtly batting your eyelashes and slowly sticking out your tongue in an inviting way, that more than innocent, seemed diabolical, as if you knew which cards to move to obtain an absolute victory. And he feels it, he feels something struck his chest. Like a pair of magnets who can't fight the silent attraction that tries to unite them. You glance at the thick fingers infront of you for an instant, and then once again, you lift your stare towards him to take the host. His breathing stopped the moment he felt the back of his fingers get in contact with the wetness of your tongue while accommodating the wafer on it, and he almost, just almost, stutters in his words, but he doesn't, it takes all of his will not to. He blinks and his hand moves away from your lips to continue with the the other presents. You turn around and go back to your place without looking back. Luckily for him, the robe that covers his body does not allow to reveal any trace of what could give away his growing hunger for you.

Reminiscing something that he himself already wrote once in his notebook.

“It’s a disgusting sight, truly. How you take the sacramental bread from the hands of a sinful bastard, how you try to be purified by the same hands that are permanently stained with the obscene thought of consuming your body, your entire being. But you don’t have an idea of how much I love it, how much I want you to be mine.”

The lecture finished at 10:57 a.m. Nicholas remembers glancing at the watch on his wrist to regain the track of time he lost when you got close to his body. Seeing that people were starting to get up, he decided to clean his instruments to leave everything in order, and at the same time, bring some peace to his mind. He didn't have long arranging his space when Wolfwood felt a sudden and intense urge to look back, and when he did, you were the first thing that he focused on, stumbling upon the surprise of your eyes already searching for his while walking to the exit, wearing the most precious smile he’s ever seen on your face. A smile just for him.

By 11:23 a.m. the chapel was completely empty and Wolfwood walked with an unbearable weight on his feet towards the confined space of the confessional, along with a box of matches in hand that he took from an old cabinet. He closed the door, took a seat and leaned his head against the wall, which protested with a slight screech, as if it knew what was going through the troubled man's mind. Of course you appeared immediately, the images of every time you two have exchanged greetings in the streets, in the market, or even at the events to raise funds for the orphanage.

First came the color of your eyes, which seemed to dominate and illuminate the darkness of the small space he was in, then your eyebrows and the expressions that characterize your words while speaking. Thirdly, your mouth, the Eden he dreams of so much, reflected in the shine that your lips acquire when you bite and wet them with saliva. Imagining how they move to the compass of your voice, if they are rounded, if you smile or if you stay quiet. Nicholas raised his right hand and gently touched his own mouth to try to calm the urgency of joining it with yours. He closed his eyes and remembered the slight meeting he had with it an hour ago. The warmth of your breath on his knuckles and the softness he touched with the pads of his mistreated fingers. How easy would it be to draw a whimper out of you, the sweetest sound he can think of. His pants began to feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, the pressure exerted by the growing erection in his groin started to become unbearable. Will he be able to obtain salvation if he confesses everything, here and now?

"God...please" And just as he often does, he began to talk. "I want her more than...a-anything in this world...can't I have her either?" The hand that previously touched your lips, traveled up to his crotch and gave a first cautious squeeze, allowing himself to be carried away by the venom of the serpent that condemned us all as sinners centuries ago, which little by little contaminated his veins and blinded his sight. Now not only did he imagine the Eden in your beauty, he was about to enter that precious place, only to break the rules. "I haven't been...a g-good man, but..." His breathing began to falter, with great gulps of air, his chest rose and fell, trying to oxygenate his racing heart. "I swear I...I can treat her right." The restraint of the stiff bottoms was starting to be painful for Nicholas, so he reached for the button, hastily undoing it to reach into his underwear. The burning heat of desire greeting him. And as he could, he pulled out his member from the base without removing his pants. The cold edge of the zipper brushed against the prominent veins of his rigid sex while his hand tried to conciliate the relief he so desperately needed. He kept traveling with his mind through your neck, your chest, your waist and your navel, the unknown nudity that he longes for unfolding before him in an imaginary scenario within the four small walls of the confessional. His breathing became more and more disturbed and growls began to sprout from the depths of his being.

"I'm sorry, God...I'm so s-sorry" He started to apologize because he knows exactly what is next. He enjoys being rough with his wicked self, he is violent. Pulling his own hair with one hand while the other strokes himself harshly. He spits on the tip, and watches how saliva slowly rolls to the base. He grunts, an animalistic type of sound that reveals the wildest part of his existence, his human predatory instinct, the part that he tries to repress with calling himself a preacher of the Lord’s word. He likes to tighten the grip in his member to the point where the veins on his forehead begin to become visible and the color of his shaft changes entirely with the accelerated flow of blood. Suffocating in his own body, a prisoner of his dark desires.

"Our Father, who...a-art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is...i-in heaven." It was in that moment when he began to pray. And the drops of fluid that came out of his slit with anticipation gave his hand more access to stroke with a quicker pace. From outside the confessional, it was possible to hear the faint slippery sound of friction from skin to skin and the murmured pleas of a man sunk in perdition.

"Give us this day our daily bread, a-and forgive us our trespasses...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temp-temptation...but deliver us from...evil."

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

And it's just when he finishes his pleas that he finds himself betrayed by his own mind, letting your name slip from his lips, over and over again, like a renovated prayer, but profane and corrupted. The peculiar burning sensation in the lower part of his abdomen starts to approach. He bites the collar of his white camisole and drool escapes from the sides of his mouth in the delirium of a near orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined your breasts swaying in front of his face as you grind on top, your angelic face contorted with the ecstasy of a fictional encounter, and your core eagerly receiving each of his thrust. The sweet aroma that your sweat must have and all the possible ways you could moan his name.

"Ni..cholas, ah...Nicholas...Nic..."

The entirety of his skin crawls to the thought. And his hips begin to move with an unbridled, involuntary frenzy, consequence of the carnal instinct that species keep hidden in their bodies.

"Oh...God..please, please...ple-please." He calls uselessly for the only one who could redeem him, the only one who could accept a sin like this. Finally, he rapidly drags his hand a couple of last times and the orgasm begins to hit his senses. A last growl comes out of his chest before his teeth unconsciously loosen the fabric of the shirt to let out a deafened cry. With some last thrusts, his hips rise in a lost rhythm from the bench on which he is sitting as his seed spills violently into his right hand, staining some of the fabric of his black pants along the way.

The warm sensation of contact with his own release brings him back to himself, and he can only at this point, contemplate more clearly the mistake he has made.

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

He drops the other hand that was tugging at his brunette locks in the heat of the momentum inside his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, places it in his mouth and proceeds to wipe the remains of cum on his right palm with a handkerchief, so he can pick up the matches he had brought with him, light the stick, and take a hit, trying to quell with smoke the latent nectar of lonely intimacy impregnated in the air. He takes a few moments to let the haze of the moment pass completely as he watches the mess in his lap and his now softened member.

The cigarette is half finished, he is a fast smoker.

He inhales and exhales once more, and then, there’s a subtle, almost silent, knock on the door, followed by what he recognizes is your voice coming from the rusty confession room's grate.

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

[typosandtea]

Got tagged by @irradiatedpiratebooty (Thankyou!) to post some wips…. 😅

No pressure tags for: @sirmanmister @acorncoffeeformysweetheart @charliesvarietyhour @fuzzydreamin @bokatan :]

I’ve got so many abandoned sketches / concepts and very few wips that make it past that because usually by the time I’ve hashed out the sketch I’ve figured out if I like it and if i have the ability to pull off what I am picturing yet ahahah and the ones past sketch are often abandoned for ‘I cant figure out why I don’t like this’ rip

(I’ve also tacked a half written danse fic on the bottom!)

Some active wips✨ (Danse like its 2015, silly comic based on this post, sketch of Murphy and Nathan)

Some I’ll hopefully come back too??????????? (Tacky mug, Danse and Frankie in Far harbor (based on Night Letter by @/watchyourdigits, I paused for falloutober and never picked up again sorry :/ ), Sweetbrew fallout 76)

Proper abandoned rip (Danse as a dnd paladin (a request that I didn’t finish since the vibes are bad, sorry @/never-gonna-danse-again :/), and a silly comic based on this screenshot of mine)

And some writing since I’m trying to figure out how to do that yay ⤵️

(Untitled, unfinished) Danse, 2nd person, Danse is kinda oblivious, ‘How does Danse deal with loving and being truly loved by a railroad sole, even after the events of rr fallout 4.. (poorly)’

Dawes, Worwick, Brach and now Keane. All good soldiers dead too soon, too young, under your command. With a heavy heart you know now that soon you'll watch as you lose Haylen and Rhys too, before succumbing yourself to the ever growing tide of ferals that has been ebbing closer over the course of the battle, it feels like an eternity has passed since you saw Keane fall to the abominations, time seemed to have broken, though you know that its only been half an hour at most. If you survive the onslaught you'll have to organise a proper memorial.. if..

Reload. Aim. Fire. Assess the situation, update tactics. Breathe. Reload. Aim. Fire. Godless heathens! Rhys is injured! Breathe. Reload. BREATHE. Aim. Fi- Fire rains down on the ferals from outside the compound. Reload. Update tactics with Haylen, while more gunfire and another molotov begins to part the irradiated sea of scum. Aim. You catch a glimpse of them. Fire. The remaining abominations are dealt with swiftly, and while thankful for the well timed assist you can't help but to be cautious of them after all of the opposition your team has faced in the commonwealth. You ask them about themselves and they ask about you in return, thinking back you never got a straight answer out of them but no time to think about that now. Leading the way, you fill the silence with a debrief of Gladius' disastrous mission here, after all they had seemed interested in the Brotherhood, even if the sunglasses clad man with them had frowned. Arcjet brings more surprises, in both the unwelcome form of gen 1 synths, and the strangers' apparent combat effectiveness and familiarity with facing them. Between both of your combat prowess, the dilapidated laboratory is soon devoid of any synthetic 'life'.

Choosing to debrief outside you stumble through attempting to compliment their outstanding combat abilities, for a civilian. You part ways after gifting them Righteous authority and an accepted invitation to join the brotherhood, much to the dismay of their companion it seems. On the walk back to the station you realise that you feel lighter than you have in months, if just a little bit crispier too.

Months pass and things have been going well for the soldier, their already good combat skills have been steadily improving, Maxon has promoted them already! They are turning into a model knight, albeit with some unorthodox choices sometimes, but you want them to succeed you know they can!

After a particularly gruelling day of clearing out yet another super mutant nest you mutually decide to camp out in a suitably defensible old house, "you're quite the soldier" you say for not the first time, casual conversation comes easily with them, easier than it has for you in years you realise with a pang. And so you tell them about Kreig and how you are pushing them the same way he pushed you, to grow into the potential you see in them, and then you apologise. For being like Kreig, pushing too hard without explanation or reward. The soldier is silent for a while, before replying, but you see a new glimmer in their eyes, of understanding. They take first watch, and you drift off to sleep easily for the first time in recent memory.

Much progress has been made in the brotherhood's hunt for the institute, with the both or you being assigned more missions near constantly it seems someone has noticed your effectiveness as a team. You've heard whispers of rumours and caught the occasional stares drifting around the prydwen, but you pay them no mind, speculative gossip has never been of any interest to you, especially not something so obviously false as those rumours, that would be inappropriate after all. Your thoughts drift to the soldier, and realise just how much they have come to mean to you and how little you've told them anything about you, how could you have been so selfish after they have bared so much of their soul with you? Their life prewar, the death of their spouse at the hands of the cruel institute mercenary, the hunt for a way into the institute and their overwhelming fear at what they will find there. How much pressure they feel from everyone to be the perfect soldier, you sigh internally thinking about that, you owe them an apology it seems. With your mind made up now you just wait for them to return and for a suitably private moment to present itself. The opportunity arises later that day, they have just returned to the prydwen after a week away, and much to your surprise beeline straight for you with a smile before even turning in their documents or missions. They seem to be oblivious to the stares and raised eyebrows of the mess's other patrons, and a round of suitably authoritative glares ensures they will remain so. Brandis just smiles, damn him.

You warmly accept their request to join them on a routine acquisition for Haylen, but you know by now that no mission will ever be ‘routine’ with them, not that you mind the challenge. En-route to the target zone you cant stop thinking about what you are going to discuss with them, how will you open such a sensitive topic with them? Its been a substantial period of time since you’ve spoken to anyone about back then, not that you could ever forget him, after all how could you when he haunts your sleep like some sort of sorrowful spectre of loss, guilt and pain.

Lost in your ruminations as you are you nearly walk right into the Soldier as they signal ‘hold’ and ‘danger’. Snapping back to reality while cursing yourself for your inattentiveness internally, you spot the obvious threat almost immediately: a roving band of super-mutant scum and worse yet, a suicider. Outstanding. Your friend signals for stealth and for a flanking manoeuvre, you never did understand their insistence on such quiet methods when you both have access to power armour, but you’ve seen enough of their handwork enough to trust their tactics, even with their continual overestimation of your lacking stealth capabilities. As quietly and you can in full power armour you move into position on the opposite side of the pack to them, shoulder your rifle and wait for their signal. You can feel your heart rate quicken in time with the warming thrum from your charging laser rifle as the anticipation and adrenaline flips the switch to combat mode. They don’t keep you waiting long as a well placed laser volley from them sets off the unsuspecting suicider right in the middle of the pack. As the stragglers stupidly turn in the direction of the apparent danger you fire on their backs with deadly accuracy. With the element of surprise now used to its fullest, you charge into optimal combat range as one of the remaining brutes correctly picks you as the bigger threat, Good. Its better if you are the target. A few more well places shots from the both of you and its over as quickly as it started, “Outstanding!” you complement their marksmanship and tactics as they walk over. You notice of the charred abominations still writhing nearby and you put it out of its disgusting misery with a well placed stomp.

The Soldier shows you the location Haylen specified on their pip-boy, its just on the other side of this small commercial district, if the mission goes smoothly you could be back on the prydwen by nightfall, sharing a whisky to chase away the taste of messes’ latest attempt at dinner. You both freeze as you hear the distinctive sound of laser fire nearby, one look and you both move towards the commotion weapons hot. At the first sign of creepy plastic and blue lasers you charge with an “AD VICTORIAM!” but you barely get a round in before mini-gun fire tears through the remaining machines. After ensuring that they were in the clear you join the soldier as they approach the heavily armed newcomer. You meet the strangers glare with a level one of your own, before they can say anything your friend asks what they are doing here, “kicking ass, though it looks like HQ messed up scheduling again” the stranger answers. Ah this must be one of their minutemen acquaintances, you had heard they were getting more active lately, and poor organisation is expected from the civilian militia. The strangely dressed silver haired minuteman explains that the subway has been overrun with gen 1 synths, your friend offers to help, “it would be an Honor to assist in exterminating these abominations” you agree, though this earns you a strange look from the minuteman. No matter. Unbeknownst to you the Soldier and the minuteman share a significant look behind your back. No pathetic synths stand a chance against the three of you as heavily armoured as you all are, you briefly considered extending the minuteman an invitation to join the brotherhood, though you reconsider when they lament the ‘deaths’ of the machines, such a naive outlook would never be allowed to continue in the brotherhood, don't they know how dangerous synths are? With the battle dust settled, “damn!, you’re one ass-kicking angel of death” the stranger compliments your friend as you all backtrack to leave the dingy subway, “agreed, outstanding work as always” you contribute, they are positively beaming at the combined praise. The minutemen leaves with more crude but positive words, its good to see that the minutemen have at least some capable fighters on their side, it is a noble cause.

The target artifact is soon acquired with minor resistance from some more mutants, but the hour is too late to return to the prydwen now. They suggest that a settlement nearby will be a safe place to camp for the night, you agree, and privately hope that the arrangements will be secluded enough for the difficult conversation you have planned. A short walk in the dark later and you both arrive at the small nursery and are immediately accosted by a group of hysterical settlers. Eventually the soldier calms them down enough to learn the location of the kidnapped one, an older man. The mutants are just across the road as it turns out, why on earth they have tolerated living a stones throw from these monstrosities for so long is a mystery, but at least the proximity makes for a brutally quick rescue, you both use the night to you advantage and the monsters are dead before they can even take up arms. The man is injured so you carry him, trusting your friend to have your backs on the way back to the settlement. You mentally resolve to make significant note of how much mutant and synth activity there is in this region in the next mission report. With the settler returned, sustenance and a semi-secure place to set up camp for the night acquired (to be continued oops, 1/4 affinity talks written, the 4th being romance dialog)

[taiigaatea]

heyyy guysssss you wont mind if i just post some sketches right???? ok good im NOT sitting through the 5-10 hours of makin a finished art piece (also yesterday was my moms birthday i love you mom)

wait i vhave a lot of things to post um lets start with most recent first

i went on vacation AGAIN to ocean city how wonderful... tbh i did this partly because me et a friend (hi lunar even though we dont follow eachother #LOL!) were talking aboutone of their recent sketches involving bathtub and i was like HEY I WANNA DO THAT TOO!!!! pool is not bathtub though dont listen to me. i looove that official art posted like 3 weeks ago with edgar in his cute little transparent cape thing soi i was like FINE ill steal it because i have no #originality !!!!!!!! love it

that was way too long for one section my bad

wouldve added these to the end but i think it makes more sense to put them here just because these were also done over vacation (same with the next sketch as well) DONT ASK ABOUT THE "IAN IS NOT SKIBIDI" its literally just me and ian being stupid and annoying in the restaurant as All siblings do,, these suck tbh but whatever its dull crayon drawings it doesnt really matter... (i love dumsers though)

WHY DOES DISCORD SUCK I JUST WANT TO DOWNLOAD MY IMAGES

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ok ugly ass sketch number 3 we are really winning with these. edgars too cute though i cant be mad ANYWAYS. modern au!!! except i have no designs for either of them i just put them in the clothes i used for them in the sims 4 BECAUSE!!! i forgot i deleted their cc in a fit of rage however many years ago (edgar kinning #lol) and didnt want to quit the game to find more since the game takes FOREVER to load... its that 13gb of cc isnt it :onesecondkite:

lunar helped me with this sketch too (especially on the canvs/easel) can we all say thank you to lunar

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last one yaheehy! ignore how blurry it is/it being unfinished i did it on the train and some guy sat next to me... IT IS FINISHED but fuck you im not getting another picture i do what i want!!!!!!!! theyre in skirts/dresses because i drew them in the two outfits i packed for that trip (baby cousins first birthday !! yayyy) honestly i dont care about anything other than putting my favorites in cute outfits especially if i own them myself

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can i post the edluca diaries here... is this a safe space (it should be since aa isnt here)

dont take this seriously at all the only reason the stupid fucking book exists is because of the no more yaoi letter. im not a writer probably wont ever be (LILYZARI DOES NOT COUNT) the "fic" i wrote is completely satire to spite aa because we are the bestest of friends (he bought me minecraft!!! now i get to be The edlucayaoi on minecraft!!!!!!!)

oh shit i just realized i left a mention of lucas name in there UM sorry aa i cant fix it now books signed

[ari-birb]

Hey, you got any advice for someone who seriously wants to start drawing again but can't find motivation or inspiration? I saw your Live2D project (looks incredible by the way I'm really excited to see how she comes along) and figured I'd ask since I wanna get into making models as a hobby

im also someone that often finds myself lacking motivation a ton, and find it hard to draw id say the best way to get into drawing more though, is draw what you like the most, especially if you find yourself lacking general motivation. practicing fundamentals is important of course, but, especially if you're in a rut or lacking motivation, draw things that you want to draw if you havent drawn in a while though it may be hard and might need a bit of a forceful shove on your end to get going, but even a tiny short sketch is alright, and once you get started it becomes easier to draw more and more

and its ok to leave a drawing "unfinished" and make purely personal sketches, and its ok taking breaks last, as far as learning models, i spent a tooon of time watching videos from multiple artists, other tools to help with that is to look at the pre-made models packaged with live2d, or if any artists provide sample or practice models to use. also take advantage of the free/trial version of live2d especially while you're just getting into it; its got enough features for basic model making and can give you plenty of practice - ive seen some artists make fully developed models using only the free version

im not sure if the advice is any good, but I hope you're able to beat your artblock and start drawing again! i only recently began getting over a period of it myself, so i know how it feels

[n0bluev]

My collection of (unposted) sketches and WIPs is growing help lmao

I might start posting again soon ????? But frl idk how to get back in the rhythm ahhaha i used to post a lot of art but nowadays i take/save pictures for it and just leave them in my cameraroll pftt

At least i drew a lot recently to kick art block's butt so it's not the creation part of the process that fails me, just the social media part lmao (dont get me wrong, i love to share and to meet people through art but posting is still annoying ☝️)

^though its true my unfinished stuff is pissing me off a bit (I COULLDDD finish but. Oh well, that's a project for later me hahahahah (ill bonk myself on the head if i start another drawing. But i know i will so i might as well stay prepared and wear a protective hat #suckitloser #@me))

Ok after some consideration; heres the plan. To motivate myself ill just. Shitilly post stuff right here and now and ill simply have to make it right by cleaning stuff up and posting again later 👍

Im basically peer pressuring myself ! Lets hope its effective, here goes ! :

ofc this isnt all cuz im disorganised (maybe ill post whats missing from here first 🙄🙄🙄(i just noticed its some of my favs pft i am helpless)) + i have worked on some stuff in those screenshots since the pictures were taken. But. You get the gist 👍 uh, so yeah 👍

Feel free to bully me or something if i dont post a drawing at least once this week & the week after lol

[maggie0li]

any sombra fics you can recommend ? :0

Had to dust off the old fimfiction for this one aha :'D

I have a pretty high standard when it comes to sombra stuff, I only have about 100 fics favourited among the 2000 something or however many about him. I used to more frequently read mlp fanfiction but I don't really anymore :/ season 9 kinda ruined Sombra and sadly a lot of the new fics use his new personality (though to be fair he didnt have much of one before LOL)

Anyway here is my top 10 list of Certified Sombra Bangers (Sombrangers?). In no particular order:

Regarding Falling Villains (naturalbornderpy)This was one of the first fics I ever read and it is AMAZING. It's a Twibra fic, not really that serious and it was more lighthearted, it's about Twilight and the Princesses trying to reform him. naturalbornderpy is one of my favourite fanfic writers as well, he's amazing at writing funny in-character humour :D he also has a few other fics about Sombra but I think this is his best one

Sombra: Saga of Hatred (HiddenUnderACouch) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/125519/sombra-saga-of-hatred This is like a biography of Sombra, basically going through how he ended up as King of the Crystal Empire. It is amazing and impactful and I think about it way too much even to this day, when I read it in 2019. Sadly it was never finished and its last update was in early 2017 but I'd highly recommend it, it's incredibly high quality and surprisingly immersive

A Sparkle in the Darkness (tom117z) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/414136/a-sparkle-in-the-darkness Omg, this fic was so amazing. It's basically about where Twilight gets curious about Sombra after his defeat and begins reading up about him. There's a bit of a twist I won't spoil, but it's mainly about Twilight and Sombra's relationship (not Twibra shipping though). Absolutely S-Tier :D

Dinner With the King (naturalbornderpy) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/219841/dinner-with-the-king Another one of naturalbornderpy's fics, but this one isn't so funny and is more of a horror-drama from what I can remember. In the height of his initial reign over the CE, Sombra takes six guests to his castle to have dinner every month. And none ever return. Stomach-twisting and haunting. Sombra is more villainous in this one than Regarding Falling Villains

The Crusader King (naturalbornderpy) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/274736/the-crusader-king Okay, yeah, another naturalbornderpy story. What can I say, I'm a fan. This one is more like Regarding Falling Villains and is much lighter in tone, kind of comedic. Haven't read it in a while but iirc Sombra gets tied up to working with the Cutie Mark Crusaders: shenanigans ensue. Iirc as well I think it goes into his background briefly.

Unfortunately, I Am The King of Equestria (Sofa King Zill-E) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/374058/unfortunately-i-am-the-king-of-equestria This one is a certified funny haha, but technically there's actually no Sombra in it. Sombra has just defeated Celestia and conquered Equestria after returning! Only for some random human man to wake up in his body and replace Sombra's soul. Shenanigans ensue. It's pretty funny. However, like Saga of Hatred, it was never finished and hasn't been updated for 6 years. I highly recommend reading it

Sweetie's Shadow (Note Sketch) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/214170/sweeties-shadow Comedy and slice of life that gets progressively darker. Sombra gets magically attached to Sweetie Belle's shadow, essentially becoming the 'devil on her shoulder'. Very good, but again, unfinished. I recommend it though, it's a good read with an interesting read (kind of like A Sparkle In The Darkness)

The Fairy Tale Fiasco (LaWombat) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/401496/the-fairy-tale-fiasco This is a Twibra fic. Kind of like Regarding Falling Villains? Basically, Sombra attacks while Cadence and Shining Armour are off on vacation. Magical mishaps happen and he, Twilight, and Spike are sucked into a book about fairy tales. Cue some character development and reformation. A pretty good read that I binged in one sitting

Plural Possessive (Aquaman) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/243196/plural-possessive Utter chaos and ridiculousness. It's brilliant! Basically, kind of like Sweetie's Shadow and A Sparkle In The Darkness. Sombra, bitter over his season 3 defeat, comes back intending to steal Twilight's body. But there's one thing he doesn't foresee: the mare changed her address, and Sombra accidentally possesses Dinky Doo instead. Shenanigans ensue. Light-hearted comedy

Dark Arts and Kind Hearts (Boomstick Mick) https://www.fimfiction.net/story/295671/dark-arts-and-kind-hearts A Flutterbra story this time. Sombra returns after his season 3 defeat and a successful battle sees Celestia begrudgingly giving him some crime-infested land and the choice of one of the Mane 6 to choose as his bride. He picks Fluttershy, who is forced to become his wife. Story follows her and Sombra establishing a new kingdom and liberating it of crime. A good read. Serious content warning though for NSFW and explicit gore/violence

Those are all the top tier fics! Some honourable mentions:

Exile - Blade Star

A Meal Fit For A King - Bucking Nonsense

Tales from the Dark Side of the Mirror - GrimWolf, Legends from the Dark Side of the Mirror - GrimWolf (this is mainly about the alternate version of Sombra, from the Reflections comic: where he's a good guy. unfinished though)

The King of the Night - Pen Mightier

Alicorn Princess - Bad Dragon

A Somber Tale: FIENDship is Magic - Maltrazz

Little Sparrow - Mitch H

Hope this helps you :'D

[harveybwabbit92]

[Seven is poking around his daughter's home for more stuff to fix, when he finds a room marked 'Private! Keep out." Seven was a little alarmed cos the door was covered in suspicious red and black hand prints after weighing his options the ultra reluctantly peeked inside.

Seven eyes brightened in awe when he saw what was very obviously an art studio, Seven put his tool box down and walked in; the door opened with a low creak as the smell of dust and paint invaded his nose as Seven looked at some of the works littering the room some were very rough and childish but got better over time; however most of the pictures were unfinished.

But what really caught his eye was the large mural on the wall, it took a few moments for Seven to realized it was a map of this universe's Earth a detailed one...but, he could see it was recently altered as a few of the islands and landscapes were changed or erased; post-its labeled the cause as "Sank into the sea or blown away by Kaiju attack or was actually a sleeping Kaiju's back."

while Seven was scrutinizing his daughter's work he failed to notice Zero walk in until he heard the impressed. "Whoa" he glanced over his shoulder to see Zero staring up at the wall stunned.]

Zero: How long do you think it took Akari to draw this?

Seven: the oldest date I could spot on these little notes was 1997...

Zero: Looks like she was using it to pin journal notes. Today while hunting I found weird giant fish bones in the swamp...Did they have Kaiju here before everything burned down? (Sketch of a whale skeleton sticking out of the muck)

Zero, reading the folded note under it: Char snuck us into the city today, he took me as reward cos I beat up some bad men who were hurting a pregnant lady, he brought me to this place called a museum. I saw the same bones from the swamp! Turns out they were animals called Whales. Hm.

[Seven and Zero were still looking over the map they failed to noticed Akari walk up behind them until she cleared her throat, both father and son jumped and whirled around to face the teen who looked unimpressed..No one said anything before Seven awkwardly spoke up.]

Seven: So...You like art too? it shouldn't surprise me, I-I mean I'm a bit of artist myself...though...

Zero: Dad, I think she wants us to get out.

Seven: Ah...Sorry.

{He and Zero leave and apologized for coming into her room without asking.]

Akari: ...

Akari, sighs: Wait...You guy can stay but ask me next time- don't just walk in.

{Zero and Seven agreed to her terms then noticed she was holding a can of off-white paint and more sketches, Akari explained where she was for a couple hours. She was observing a small Island that appeared off the western coast, she noticed something off about it and suspected it was sleeping Kaiju; Akari was sort of proven correct. as It turned to be a floating kaiju corpse that got caught on the sandbanks so she had to to do some alterations to her map again.]

[shirefantasies]

I have only asked for one matchup in the past like 8 years of imagine blog requesting but I figured hey, why not? I've been reading your blog nonstop for like 2 weeks, lol! Lets see, I'm about 5ft 4 with a bob of ringlets and a round, even, bespectacled face. I'm pretty curvy and perhaps on the heavier side but I've got a lot more strength to my frame than most give me credit for! In the day to day folks look at me and think I'm a 100% cerebral kind of person and for the most part they'd be right, at least when I was younger. I used to be the ultimate shut-in for the simple fact that I suffer from a family curse on my father's side- when we aren't learning we feel like we're *fucking dieing*(i didn't make tht up it's the family running joke!). These days I'm much more outgoing; I play DnD in 2 groups, have tons of online friends I talk to regularly, I've got a routine of 'sister night's where me and my sister paint together, I sing in a chorus, and I've got study sessions with my mentor going too- so I'm kinda a former-antisocial-dork-turned-deliberate-part-of-their-communities kinda chick. I feel like if i was dropped in middle earth I'd wanna try and build a printing press, my first degree was in graphic design so I know a ton about all the different kinds, I'd love to share! After all, what's the point of learning if you don't use your information to *help* people? Guess I'd be a scribe if I was born there tho. I skew towards liking the hobbit characters more than LOTR, but I'm up for anyone that's in both, too. Congrats on 300, you deserve it!!

Thank you so much for your support and heck yeah, *you* deserve the treat of a matchup too 😘 I’m so glad you said that about the hobbit characters because I definitely had someone in mind for you…

Dear Ori!

Ori finds out someone is causing quite a stir with a new invention, so of course he has to see what all the fuss is about! Something about a revolution amongst his world of scribes happening right at the foot of his home down in Dale. Making his way down to the study named, he musters up the courage to knock on the door. Coming to call unannounced isn't exactly the most polite behavior, he knows, but then again this inventor must be having a lot of that these days. He isn't expecting to see a cute young woman open the door, though, and his first thought is one hoping you aren't just the inventor's wife opening the door for them.

You are not. The moment Ori shyly greets you, asking if it's true what the scribes are saying about an exciting new device, your eyes light up and you usher him in. Inside your home is a bit messy, but the comforting sort of messy where charming china sits out atop tables, game boards at their sides, papers are strewn about with notes and diagrams and drawings Ori wishes he could see better. A potted plant sits in one corner with an unfinished sketch of its likeness on the adjacent shelf. A fire is fighting its best to stay lit behind an elaborately styled metal gate, no doubt to keep it that much further from all the paper. All in all, Ori thinks to himself that this is somewhere he could live. As you begin taking him across the room to a door, you animatedly discuss your many trials and errors before you reveal your masterpiece. A great structure with some sort of metal rod and a bunch of blocks? Printing press, you call it. You had blocks for each letter, the rod pulled down to press the ink down... "Now we can save some time if we need a lot of copies! What do you think?" You stood there with your head expectantly tilted, hands clasped in front of you. "They say Thorin or Bard might like something like this for decrees, but as a fellow scribe do you see a future with this?"

Gaping at your smarts and flushing at the faint flutter of your eyelashes, Ori nods. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen, and I fought a dragon." "You...fought a dragon?" It is your turn to gape as you peer at the dwarf with new interest. "Threatened to show him dwarvish iron where the sun don't shine," he replied with a proud smile, arms crossed, "but you know, in the end Mr. Bard got 'im. We all showed him what for, though! This tops that by a long shot, though- how'd you think of this?" Kettle on first, hours of discussion later. Soon it was near nightfall and Ori was apologizing profusely and you were waving it off, asking him for promise of a return with the sketches he mentioned.

A whole new page of sketches gets dedicated to figures with bobs of lovely curls, gorgeous curves that have Ori blushing, smiles upon a round, cheery face and spectacles never fully betraying the eyes' secrets. Whole hours of Ori’s day get dedicated to carving blocks for your press and trying them out with you and feeling his heart flip at the way you take his hands and leap in celebration. He can listen to you talk, whether it’s explaining your invention process or the instructions of the game you’re teaching him or even simply sharing some random animal facts from the latest book you picked up, all day, he thinks. And then one day as he’s leaving you press a kiss to his cheek and that’s it.

Flowers and a new book are thrust into your hand the moment you open the door, Ori standing before you telling you how much he likes you and can’t stop thinking about you and you positively must interrupt him to tell him he’s been like home to you or else he’ll keep going, the poor dear. He wants to take you out that day, walk you around proudly and savor the feeling of your hand in his as he shows you off.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[sapwine-and-starcharts]

I make playlists for like all my ocs using songs that relate to either their story or their personality and one song on Mylo's keeps popping into my mind and if the year ends and i haven't done at least a sketched comic to it put me down /hj

Like I even have an INCREDIBLY barebones script written for it that just needs me to panel out and sync to the music.

But art block has me in a chokehold!!!! Plus i have an even bigger non Outer Wilds project I'm taking a small break from that I'm hoping to return to soon.

Even still, the Nomai parts make me almost cry whenever i think of them!! Specifically the interloper Nomai's part (bless them for i have forgotten their names. I was never good with retaining the info about the Nomai) and Solanum's part.

Below is the script if you're interested. If any of it inspires you, go ahead and play with it!

All I ask is that you tag me in it cause I am desperate to see something done with it.

SAD MACHINE - PORTER ROBINSON

AN OUTERWILDS ANIMATIC IDEA

Is anyone there? (Blinking open eyes)

Oh... (focus on the orbital probe)

Hi

(camera tilts to reveal Slate at the fire)

Who survived? Somebody new? Anyone else but you?

(Touching the statue at the museum, zoom in through its eye)

On a lonely night was a blinding light A hundred leaders would be borne of you

(A drift through space, surprised by the supernova)

And though I know, since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you

(The statue workshop, sitting with Gabbro, being held by Gabbro)

She'll go alone, and never speak of this again We depend on you, we depend on you

(The Hanging City, Sitting with Riebeck, leaning against Riebeck)

And though I know, since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you

(The sunless city, sitting with Chert, holding Chert)

She'll go alone, and never speak of this again We depend on you, we depend (I'll depend) on you

(Feldspar’s camp, sitting with Feldspar, Roasting Mallows with Feldspar)

I don't know much about your life beyond these walls The fleeting sense of love within these God-forsaken halls

(The Interloper, the Crystal Nomai, the Floating Nomai)

And I can hear it in his voice, in every call; "This girl who's slept a hundred years has something after all"

(The Quantum moon, Solanum’s corpse, Solanum at the 6th location)

And though I know, since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you

(The museum, standing in the doorway, hugging Hornfels goodbye)

I'll go alone, and never speak of you again We depend on you, we depend on you

(The Ash Twin, Inside the Ash Twin Project, holding the core)

And though I know since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you

(The vessel, The mass grave, The coordinates)

She'll go alone, and never speak of this again We depend on you, we depend on you

(The Eye, looking back where they came, jumping in)

And though I know, since you've awakened her again She depends on you, she depends on you

(The Eye!Museum, The empty campfire, All of the ghost Hearthians behind them)

She'll go alone, and never speak of this again We depend on you, we depend (I'll depend) on you

(Each of the instruments, Solanum, The Prisoner)

Play

(A single tear rolls down their cheek, follow the fire up to the credits)

And that's the whole thing so far. Again, very bare bones, there's ALOT of empty instrumental space, and most of the camera angles and such are only in my brain rn but hhhh...

If you're interested in the rest of Mylo's Playlist click HERE. It's pretty much just as sad as this and is highly unfinished but I wanna keep working on it once my brain is better lmao

[starryeyedstray]

thoughts on inktober/drawtober as someone who just finished it without missing a single day

it's fucking exhausting.

okay but for real here are my complete thoughts:

overview of my experience:

firstly, the way i approached this drawtober challenge was a bit chaotic bc i was trying to do a dbh drawtober here while also maintaining an inktober challenge on my other art blog. keep in mind, this was my first time trying a month-long daily art challenge type thing. so very ambitious (and a little stupid) to try to do two at the same time. for awhile, i was able to maintain it. i hadn't missed a day for dbh drawtober while for my inktober i had only missed 3 days by day 20. but i was starting to really feel the exhaustion at that point and dropped the inktober prompt after day 20 completely. i just focused on dbh for the last 11 days.

i did not prep anything in advance. though the first couple days i kinda started brainstorming ideas for the rest of the month. some days i would work on future prompts if i had extra time. some prompts fit for unfinished wips from september. but largely i was producing new art the day the prompt was due.

i haven't drawn this much in literal years. so my art was rapidly changing as i was figuring out my style and my brain was just raring to come up with ideas. which presented a problem later in the month when i had all these complex ideas i wanted to execute. instead of keeping the drawings simple and achievable to finish in a couple hours, i wanted to create pieces that would take days for a prompt due the next day. it was impossible. my desire to execute complex pieces conflicted with the strict daily turnaround.

by the end of the month i was sleep-deprived trying to finish works. a couple times i had to stop working on the piece because i realized i wouldn't finish in time. and then i would have to start a new one with a simpler idea and post a messy sketch with some color thrown on. towards the end i posted some of them late.

overall, it was a tiring experience.

what i liked about it:

i really liked coming up with ideas based off the prompts. it was fun having a guide for my art. it helped me think creatively and think of aus and concepts i normally would not have. i felt encouraged to draw characters i normally don't and just really stimulated my creative juices.

what i hated about it:

it's exhausting!!!! especially if you are doing fully illustrated pieces and starting a new one every single day!!!! i felt like i couldn't take my time on anything. as soon as it was done i had to post it. a bunch of the stuff i look back and i'm like oh i wish i had time to fix those proportions. or i wish i could have rendered it out more. or that is not to the quality of standard i have for a piece but i had to post it cause deadline!!!! i was sleep deprived for most of the month trying to finish things!!!!

granted, if i just stuck with simple line drawings i probably could have been fine. but what's the point of purposely making quick and mediocre art????? i'm supposed to be inspired to create nice pieces so why would i purposely lower my standard just to finish a piece on time??????

the daily turnaround was a terrible grind and left me posting art i wasn't really super satisfied with or scrapping wips i wouldn't finish in time in favor of simpler pieces.

would i do it again?

hell no.

don't get me wrong. love the prompts! love that it encourages me to think differently and try different things. but i don't need to be pumping out art every day to get that benefit. i think a weekly challenge may be more up my alley. or something where i'm not drawing new pieces and immediately posting them every single fucking day. idk. anything but the daily grind for 31 consecutive days jfc.

final thoughts:

i understand there's a reason the original inktober was specifically for traditional artists working in ink. its easier to not get lost in the details and coloring when just using ink compared to digital art where things don't feel finished unless you render it out or clean it up.

i understand the original inktober was really meant for people feeling blocked and unmotivated. if you already are drawing everyday, this challenge can feel like a chore bc you won't be able to work on the wips you actually want to bc you're too busy working on your drawtober pieces. i have like 15 wips that i wasn't able to touch because of drawtober.

i think this challenge has a place for certain artists, but it's just not for me. at least not at this stage in my life.

anyway, if you read all that thanks and may blessings fall upon ye. lmk if you have any thoughts about my thoughts.

[xivu-arath]

unfinished kyousougiga fic

I'd like to get back to this one day but I need to rewatch first and polish this up

It is spring when Myoue opens his eyes and his heart, and finds somewhere the courage to love these strange, fragile lives that have chosen to surround him. It is a long, gilded spring, as he learns who Koto is, and lets her learn him in turn. There is a novelty in being together, in being more than one, and he delights in it as he has not delighted in any part of the world for centuries.

The summer and fall are just as long, just as golden – but they begin to stumble, as people do, even the divine. Koto realizes that the man she knew as a rabbit as a little different from the man she knows now, held down by the weight of the world. But where he is opaque and secretive and endlessly frustrating, she has the patience of one who never expected her wish to come true, but wished anyways. And so they live, and happiness blooms.

It is winter again, when a noble's house is torched to the ground, its family strewn carelessly. It is winter, when the last surviving child stabs himself because his entire world has crumbled, and duty rests on his shoulders. But he does not die, because gods meddle, and Myoue might be a god on a honeymoon but he cannot help his instincts. This season is colder, bridged together by anger and long silences. Yakushimaru is a child, and thinks nothing of the future except that it is vast and empty, but he is also human, and knows that somehow, he has lost something when he gained immutable, certain life.

“He'll adjust,” Myoue tells Koto as they watch their newly adopted son huddle on the edge of the porch, as far away as possible. “He has all the time in the world to get used to it.”

“I think that's the problem,” she murmurs back, and the memory of the fruit they bound him to life with lies heavy on her tongue.

The wind blows, cold and cutting. None of them flinch.

But the snows keep them confined to their temple in the mountains, and Yakushimaru slowly unthaws. Koto stops keeping count of the times her son smiles or laughs, and instead tracks progress through the times they argue. No one has the strength of will to argue with her, not for long, but Myoue and Yakushimaru squabble endlessly as they settle against each other, and Koto glows with quiet pride all the while. This is the family she has wished for, strange and cobbled together and incomprehensibly hers. In the end, she stops dreaming of the tart taste of pomegranates.

Spring is strung together with frail promises.

“I don't get how you do it,” Yakushimaru says one day, hands stained with ink and gazing down at a scrawled rabbit. “Ink is ink. What makes it live?”

“Maybe I'll show you how to do it someday,” Myoue says, and ruffles his hair, earning an indignant squawk. He retaliates with an elbow to the face, and Koto has to stop clapping in time to soothe both their bruised egos, laughing all the while. She laughs a great deal in those days, when she no longer has to lock away the knives.

It is spring when Yakushimaru has siblings again – a sister with stars in her eyes, fierce and strong enough to drive away any number of attackers, and a brother wise beyond his apparent years. Sometimes, he thinks he can see the ink in them. Surely it's there in Yase's blue-black eyes, in Kurama's hair. Despite that, they are as real as he is, and far more content to settle in the roles assigned to them. Well, mostly.

“Why do you keep fighting with Myoue?” he asks Yase one day, as they all sprawl on the veranda. Kurama is quietly sketching some design, apparently absorbed – though Yakushimaru knows he's still capable of listening intently. It's been long enough that he's somewhat used to his siblings, and no longer so fearful of Yase's wild strength. His new mother floats as if she's a feather, his siblings are stronger and smarter than he is – he's a little baffled as to why Myoue even keeps him around. Surely such extraordinary, frustrating people wouldn't want a normal child.

“Well... he made me an oni, didn't he? I didn't ask for that! I want to be graceful and pretty and a real lady, like Mama. But then I get angry and get big and clumsy, instead! But,” she adds thoughtfully, “I like being strong.”

“Did he say why?”

“Just that that's what he felt like drawing! And he said it made things more interesting, and he won't change my painting.” She pouts and thumps a fist against the floor. The wood creaks, but holds up – Yakushimaru's pretty sure Myoue's been strengthening it, somehow.

“He always does what he feels like, I guess.” There's a thoughtful sigh from all three of them. For an instant, they feel like the siblings he had and lost.

[I stalled out here but put down some ideas for how to end it at least?]

It is summer for a long, long time.

And it is still endlessly summer on the day that a girl, destruction sizzling against her palms, will smash her way into the world.

Kurama pauses, driving a whole meeting to a halt. Around them, Kyoto hums onward. “Hm... has fall come early?”

“Ahhh, what a delightful spring breeze!” Yase says, reclining in the garden. The tremors in the air make her tea ripple, but her hands cradle the cup gently.

There's a distant roll of thunder and Myoue, still remembering the chill of a day when his name was his own, rolls over and goes back to sleep.

[agentnico]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem (2023) Review

Why would they release this only a month after Across the Spider-Verse?? It’s as if they WANT to live in the shadows!

Plot: After years of being sheltered from the human world, the Turtle brothers set out to win the hearts of New Yorkers and be accepted as normal teenagers. Their new friend, April O'Neil, helps them take on a mysterious crime syndicate, but they soon get in over their heads when an army of mutants is unleashed upon them.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles of course are close to the hearts of many people’s childhoods, however I do not share that element of nostalgia. I am aware of the turtles and their pizza obsession, and I have unfortunately seen both of the Michael Bay produced ones, but nonetheless I walked into Mutant Mayhem with a very open mind. I am a fan of Seth Rogen and have also been enjoying this new style of animation that spawned from 2018′s Into the Spider-Verse, that steps away from the Disney/Pixar dominated oversaturated 3D computer animation and instead incorporates 2D and various interesting art styles from watercolours to comic-book sketches. Again, Spider-Verse started this and is still probably the most well executed one, however I personally also believe Klaus and Puss in Boots: The Last Wish have managed to take this new artwork animation style and make it their own. Mutant Mayhem again looks very good visually, and even though this one doesn’t really add much more to this animation style that Spider-Verse already did, there were still some creative choices made, like in many shots parts of the character drawings and the background sketches looking unfinished, as if a kid drew them, which I found to be a nice touch, especially with the movie’s youthful nature. But yes, the artwork is very close to Spider-Verse, and that is not the only comparison. Strangely enough the energetic music score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross hits near all the same notes and drum beats of Daniel Pemberton’s excellent Across the Spider-Verse soundtrack. Both are very similar, and again reiterated that TMNT: Mutant Mayhem gladly embraces that it exists solely due to the trend that Spider-Verse started.

What really works for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem is that it actually accepts the fact that its titular turtles are teenagers. Voiced entirely by a youthful cast, the four central turtles have amazing banter and share that coming-of-age feel, making their friendship believable and entertaining to watch. At times it feels like you’re just hanging out with a bunch of friends who are being goofs. The supporting cast all do their part and are evidently having fun themselves. Ice Cube makes for a formidable villain who at first comes off really cool and charming, but then turns into an intimidating presence that manages to proudly proclaim rap lyrics. Jackie Chan is an inspired casting choice, as he brings an endearing warmth as the overprotective father-figure to the turtles, and his vocal performance felt genuine. There’s many famous actors that provide vocal additions to the shedload of characters in this movie, but I’d say Paul Rudd stood out the most as a crazy skater-bro who was foolishly funny.

Jeff Rowe (known for The Mitchells vs. The Machines) balances the themes of coming-of-age and acceptance really well with the fast-paced action-packed energy of Seth Rogen’s and Evan Goldberg’s script, and there’s plenty of laughs and colourful set pieces to keep kids entertained at the cinema this month. This is definitely a more younger audience aimed affair, but I enjoyed it nonetheless and at the very least is the best version of TMNT I have seen so far. Naturally my main comparisons are those Michael Bay movies and, well, that’s not a very high bar. But don’t worry, Mutant Mayhem provides plenty of entertainment value, popping imagery and mountains of ninja skills. And pizza, of course.

Overall score: 7/10

[purplecrkl]

(Wrote this two years ago and never posted it. Now that I have free time, I want to practice writing again!! I have no idea where this was going, but it’s my first time writing something, so hopefully it makes some sense 💀)

Also I pictured Daniel as Aaron Taylor Johnson from that one BLACK AND WHITE AD URGH 😩 #freeATJ 😔✊🏼

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(10 years earlier)

“Tell me to stay. Tell me, if I choose to walk away, you will never speak to me again. Tell me I’m making the biggest mistake of my life. Tell me-“

“Tell me you know how to start a sentence without using ‘tell me’, right?”

“Tell me you’re an asshole without *telling* me you’re an asshole. How’s that?” I say back. Daniel, unfazed by remark, reaches for a pillow on my bed, hurling it at the side of my head. Carefully dodging the laptop showing the unfinished script of my latest story.

“I’m just saying, you’re reaching. I mean come on, no one actually says this stuff. Let alone out loud in an airport. Imagine the looks you’d get if we held up the line like that at Heathrow. I’d barely have time to spit the second line out before security kicked us out. Not to mention the ‘No Fly List’ we’d be put on, and rightfully so.”

This has been our routine since we met in 8th grade. Now, both in college, Daniel remains the only person I share my stories with. The path to becoming a screenwriter is long and treacherous but Daniel had always been supportive of my dreams. If there was anything I could count on him for, it was his brutal honesty. He would never tell me what I wanted to hear, and was always careful to reel me in whenever I was too harsh on myself.

While I wrote, Daniel would sketch quietly on my bed. He had dreams of becoming an architect and could talk my ear off about the ingenuity of various finite materials, how brutalist architecture is his least favourite style and why he’d move to Japan in a heartbeat because timber burnt houses had proven to increase the lifespan of its tenants.

Truthfully I think his desire to create a home that stood the test of time had to do with the fact he hadn’t experienced one himself. Mr and Mrs Keating weren’t bad people per se, they were just bad parents. Daniel didn’t remember much about his childhood. Bringing up the past never bode well for him. A feat Daniel was cruelly reminded of when he was asked to recall his favourite part about his seventh birthday at school the next day.

“My Lego bike”, he said proudly.

“And when I saw daddy kissing mummy in the library.”

The kids in his class let out a chorus of ‘ews’, whilst sneaking glances at who they’d declare their love for in the playground later that day.

Mrs Keating apparently cherished that moment too, going as far as giving it its own highlighted section in the divorce papers she served Mr Keating with the following weekend. A memory she would have no recollection of, if it weren’t for Daniel’s reminder. And after both parties agreed to sell the house, cashing in a hefty cheque large enough to erase 7 years of marriage, Daniel had barely managed to pack his favourite toys before he was waving goodbye to the house he grew up in. To hell with that library, he thought.

Though I didn’t know him back then, anyone could have guessed using your child to communicate the failings of the other parent; then shipping him off to boarding school when he refused to choose a side would end in serious emotional unrest in said kid. To this day, Daniel refuses to subject himself to any notion of love in fear of repeating his parents mistakes.

“God, I cannot wait for the day Daniel Keating confesses his undying love in the middle of an airport” I say, while crawling my way into the space beside him. A loud scoff erupts from his chest and it’s my favourite sound I’ve heard all day. But then it’s silent for a beat too long and I’m afraid I’ve offended him with such a preposterous idea. Daniel, capable of love? Ha.

In a second he’s up on his feet, pacing the room with my laptop in hand. He studies my script for a few seconds and it takes all I have to not stare at him too long. But it’s Daniel Keating. And in the last six years I’ve known him, I’ve stolen enough glances to confidently recite every part of him in my sleep.

Almost, every part.

A quiet chuckle brings me back and I’m scared he’s finally caught me staring this time. He hasn’t. And although it’s impossible to see anything beyond the dark cesspool of cocoa in his eyes, I still catch that devilish glint when he stalks towards me.

“Tell me to stay Lex,” he says.

If his head full of curls weren’t brushing against his ears, I’m sure he would’ve heard my heart stop.

“Tell me you’ll never speak to me again, if I choose to walk away.”

That’s impossible, I want to say. You could walk away a million times and I’d welcome you back a million and one.

Daniel reaches me on the bed and I’m certain if I don’t take a breath in the next second my respiratory system will take ‘you’ll never speak to me again’ quite literally. Does Heaven give out ‘do-overs’ for misunderstandings like this? It’s not like I meant to stop breathing. Blame the boy currently intertwining my hand with his.

“Tell me, I’m making the biggest mistake of my life Lex.”

He cups my cheek, and I wonder if he’s noticed I’ve come undone in the palm of his hand. I wonder if he knows everything I’ve written up to this point has been about him.

About us.

I’m certain I’ve stopped breathing. But I’m not worried. There are worse ways to go out, than having Daniel Keating here with me, like this. So with my hand in his right, and my heart in his other, I make a vow right then and there. To love him with everything I have.

Daniel.

I will love you when you stay.

I will love you if you choose to walk away.

But most importantly, I will continue to love you even if it turns out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

And it is.