#cleaned up an old sketch from last year :3

[daintynekoo]

YIPPEE \o/

[waywardstation]

About the reblog game--is the POV going to stay on Ingo the whole time or are we going to get Akari randomly showing up incredibly confused and possibly falling from the sky again

On that note, did Akari even get sent back? Some of your works sort of imply that Arceus is kind of cruel and it won't let them go back together, so is she like fistfighting it right now to get sent back too? It would be absolutely GUTTING for Ingo to finally remember Akari only to find out that she never got sent back and then yet again start to beat himself up over the hypotheticals <3

As far as I know, it will just stay with Ingo. It’s planned to so far, but of course a winning option could always change that!!

And yes, Akari got sent back too, they just got sent back to their respective regions! It’s something that’s supposed to be made clear later on (if this story ends up going the projected way, at least) and we have not reached that yet, so yes it’s not very clear right now. But she got sent back and is now back in the modern day, same as Ingo!

I do hope to continue this comic soon, I know we reached the goal but I’ve been unable to work on it lately because of my neck ;-; I hope I can do so again soon!

And as for my interpretations, I have many, many thoughts about Arceus. I do not intend for Arceus to be cruel (it’s actually meant to be rather the opposite, Arceus is supposed to be extremely hands-off but compassionate, not intervening but offering guidance and help. There is emotional distance and no attachment or personal sentimentality; Arceus helps in situations it’s present in where it realizes it can be helpful, but it does not seek them out. If that makes sense (Like if I see a bug drowning in my pool while I’m swimming in it, I will scoop it up and watch over it as it dries itself off until it can fly away. But I do not go out of my way to go out to my pool and search for bugs that need help every day. Best way I can describe Arceus being hands-off but compassionate).

But of course no one really knows this interpretation in my works yet yet except for me, as I have not published the works that focus on this yet. (And to be clear, this characterization would extend to this reblog comic too)

As of now, all that people have really seen from me that I can recall is that Akari has expressed worry that they will not be allowed to go back together and Ingo will have to be left behind, so she will force Arceus to let her take Ingo back with her if she must. So yes Arceus sounds cruel lol, but it’s really Akari just assuming and preparing for the worst in an unknown scenario.

More about my interpretation of Arceus below, and how it relates to my overarching narrative in my fics.

Here is a piece I’ve been sitting on for a long, long time. But again because of my neck, don’t know when I am going to finish this art. A handful of people saw this sketch last year (and it is almost a year old now which makes me sad ;-;) but it is for my overarching canon that I have built for my fics, most of it becoming relevant in works that have not been published yet. Stuff in the stained glass depictions probably do not make sense yet because of this, apologies.

BUT it is Savepoint AU. I’ve talked a little about it before but some things have changed since then. Basically as it is now, both Akari and Ingo are not from this time. The timeline is trying to clean itself out (as it does with Pokemon and things that manage to stick around after space-time distortions) and get rid of them.

Arceus brought Akari to this timeline. Arceus has made save states for Akari (think like literally saving the game), something like an instance of how she should be (healthy, unharmed) as a reference. When the timeline tries to take her out (think like when you black out in PLA after taking too many hits from wild Pokemon, drowning, falling too far, ect.), Arceus reverts her body back to a previous save point where she was healthy and unhurt. Arceus brought her here for a reason and it wants to ensure she can finish the task. It will send her back when she completes it, so the timeline stops going after her.

Ingo was not brought to this timeline by Arceus. Ingo does not have save points. Ingo does not have a promise to be sent back home when he finishes his task, as he has no task to complete. Not because Arceus doesn’t care about what happens to Ingo, but because Arceus had nothing to do with Ingo’s arrival, and Ingo has nothing to do for Arceus. Ingo is just not really on Arceus’ radar, it’s focusing on Akari.

When the timeline starts trying to take Ingo out, he does not have save instances like Akari does to fall back on. For a while, Akari just relies on Arceus sending her messages through the arc phone about when something will happen (a method that Arceus employs once Akari has made it aware that Ingo is important to her, still without intervening) so that she can help Ingo avoid these incidents and stay alive, until she can finish her appointed task and bring him back home with her (as I said before, in her words, she’s going to do it whether she’s allowed to or not. She doesn’t know Arceus’ stance on things).

But this method cannot work forever, surely. And it doesn’t. Without spoiling anything, Akari begs Arceus for another way to keep going at Ingo’s end, and in its empathy, Arceus complies.

I’m looking forward to when I can get these works out and finish this piece. I think about Savepoint AU constantly haha.

As a last thing, I’ve attached this song. Practically all of it really works with this AU and I would like to do some sort of PMV for it eventually. But there are several lines in here that connect well with Arceus’ relationship with them in this AU as well from Ingo’s POV.

You held your hand in mine And then it felt so clear That you were in the air And I think so was I - Ingo does eventually receive care and protection from Arceus, but only through Akari’s insistence that he does. He experiences what Akari has been blessed with this entire time, and the difference is noticeable.

There’s a part of us in you And I was a fool Thinking it was me - Arceus is with Akari and protecting her, but it is not with Ingo nor is it protecting him. Before Akari came along, Ingo believed he was ‘protected’ too though, somehow managing to escape this timeline cleanse fate (yes, he did know about it technically from seeing what happened to space-time distortion pokemon), but he had not; it only started late.

Something outside my vision - Arceus, in relation to Ingo. It is not there for him, it does not appear for him, and has not reached out to him like it has for Akari. But it does eventually make itself noticable to him, it’s just not made itself comprehensible to him like it has to Akari.

[rainyfey]

Hey Arcana fandom, it's been a while 👋 I found an old series of sketches from last year and cleaned them up a bit because I thought they were funny ✨ It's sort of a follow up to [this post].

Oh, to live in a world where Julian can be as sassy as he wants to Lucio with no consequences 💖 (Transcript below the cut, in case my handwriting is illegible).

Panel 1: Lucio: Jules, it's such a tragedy! Lucio: He walks by every day, but it's like I'm invisible! He doesn't even wave "hello" like all the other little landfolk (T_T)

Panel 2: Julian: (staring contemptuously at the arm Lucio has thrown over his shoulder) ...Who?

Lucio: You know--the blue one. The assistant from in Noddy's lab. Lucio: It's not like I'm not impressive. Anyone would notice me, right? (;n;)

Panel 3: Julian: Oh, by the Seven--you mean Velle? They're the one who's got you like this?

Lucio: Wh--You know them?

Julian: (gleefully) Yes. And I hate to break it to you, but you're barking up the entirely wrong tree. See, they prefer partners who possess the ability to breathe air.

Panel 4: Julian: (swims away)

Lucio: (dejected) Rude.

[awkward-fink]

Headcanon favorites of Fink / Geeky Version

Price -> Price loves gameshows. Doesn’t matter if it’s Family Feud, Trivial Pursuit or any other game shows. He will sit his ass down on his couch, get a good meal ready, get some nice drink sat right beside him, feet up on the couch table and then it’s go time. He can only indulge this little hobby of his when he is at home, but he loves this time, nonetheless. He can relax while answering questions, his mind calming down again as he must cycle through different categories of questions, logic to math to arts to history and back and forth again. That man has a knowledge base of facts and trivia that’s scary sometimes. But it is mostly facts that he will never have a use for in the real-life situation he finds himself in. (Or so he thinks. Until he is lost in the wilds with a painful injury and remembers that the bark of a willow can helps with infection, fever and pain.)

Gaz -> He doesn’t want anyone to know, but in school, when he was around 15 and his sisters 16 and 17, they had a small Dungeons and Dragons Group going. A few of their friends, his sisters and himself had biweekly meetings to play, spending whole afternoons until late at night solving the Dungeon Masters riddles and quests. One campaign lasted for over 3 years, and he still remembers fondly his Half-Elven Knight Leofrid, the Gallant. His old books and his character are still safely stored away at his mother’s house, right beside his small figurine his sisters got him from a specialty score once. Some days he dreams of starting again, missing the carefree laughter and the humor-filled adventures he had once upon a time.

Ghost -> He loves working with his hands. Always had and always will. It is calming to him, his thoughts having to focus on something other than knives or his guns and rifles. His hobby with this is his Tabletop figurine collection. He doesn’t have a faction army or anything the like, doesn’t want to play the game with others. He loves to build the small things with painstaking patience, part for part cleaned and washed and glued together to finally become a small character. It had all started with his neighbor’s trash when he was younger and going around the block with Tommy, the big box of figures and monsters sticking out of the trash. And for them, who had never had something like this, it was precious. And so, he builds them even today, and thinks about color schemes, painting them just how he likes them before he goes to a store to get another one and start again.

Soap -> Johnny MacTavish has learned early on that he had a knack for the arts, drawing and sketching his absolute pleasure. It started simply, with flowers and vases and his cat and then his sisters’ dolls. It all went into even more detail from there. Year after year he got better and looked for more detailed objects to sketch. And as he turned 14, he finally found the ultimate challenge. The fandoms of his favorite books, online, in need of sketches and drawings. And Johnny was hooked. The Hobbit had been his favorite children’s book when his father still read to him. And Johnny fed the fandom, online in one of the first webpages for things like this. Bilbo, Thorin, the trolls, the ponies, the elves... and then even more provocative sketches, more skin, more -! Needless to say after his mother found THAT sketchbook, Johnny hid the poor book very far away from his ma and tried his hand at other things again. Glass vases and faces of his most loved people...

Roach -> Gary Roach Sanderson is always looking for something. He is looking for Booster Packs for Pokémon. Since he was little the loyal little pocket monsters had conquered his heart and his whole family fed into that hobby gladly, helping the quiet boy, happy that he finally showed interest in a hobby. They bought him his first binder and his first whole box of boosters. They sat with him as Gary opened one booster after the other, his grin widening with every new Mon he pulled and could file into his collection. And with the first Art Rare he pulled, he was deeply hooked on the hobby. And even now, as an adult, he is always on the lookout for new cards, new boosters. He has at least 6 binders at home, partially filled collections he is trying to finish. He is still looking for the Umbreon Art Rare. @loveergirll i actually had that already in the works when your ask came in, hope you have fun reading some more after my answer to your ask this morning (for me)

@seeking-the-sunrise like I promised^^

[einsatzzz]

OCtober Day 3: Old OC - ShioRin ⚠️The effects/flashes might hurt your eyes, so please watch with caution.

@amiahoshi and I's Haikyuu OC twins, Shiori and Rin. They walked, so KanaRumi could run-- just kidding, they walked so those mfs Shiki (Cloud Guardian) and Rei (Mist Guardian) could run.

Anyway, even after...s-seven...seven years (💀), I think this is still my magnum opus in terms of video editing, so I will always repost this every now and then (like right now). I don't even remember how I edited this. IIRC, the last solo Rin with the clean lines is by Sou!

A few more info & art below because they have a special place in my heart plus I feel nostalgic while trying to look at old art of them. 🥰🥰🥰

Kiriyama Rin: A student from Karasuno High and a member of its Girls’ Volleyball Team. She is also Shiori’s older twin sister.

Rin is usually a happy, cheerful and energetic person. She acts without giving a second thought and is always carefree. However, she is actually a person who finds it extremely difficult to express how she actually feels towards people, she acts happy to everyone, even those whom she hates.

Despite her love for volleyball, she doesn’t really have a motivation to become a professional player.

Kiriyama Shiori: A student from Aoba Johsai High. She is also Rin’s younger twin sister.

Because of her illness, Shiori is unable to play any type of sports that is physically taxing (which is almost all the sports). One thing that could be noted from her is her unusual in-depth understanding of volleyball, this is due to her curiosity for the said sport when she saw Rin all fired up and pouring lots of effort into it.

She could do well as a team manager, but she thinks she’s too unmotivated and it would be rude to her sister if she were to join in on her passion in that kind of uncaring way.

Their OCxCanon pair ft. mouse user Ein from 2016...

MAFIA AU ART FROM 2016...Ha, look what we have right now lmao

My sketch of them from 2020! That's ShikiRei at the back, don't mind them.

Then this is my last drawing of them from OC Week 2022! That's ShikiRei at the side, don't mind them.

Ignore the tug of war in art style/quality. I lowkey tried giving up art a few times in the middle but every time I come crawling back my art skill kinda resets so I have to relearn or just learn new shit each time 😭😭

More Infodump for no reason, I just want to yap about them: We got into some genderbending shenanigans for ShioRin at some point back then, and that's how ShikiRei was born. Then ShikiRei eventually developed into their own separate characters and we eventually shipped them with their opposite counterparts (ReixShiori & ShikixRin) sjhfvhdvfsh After a while, we locked them under a basement (we let them out sometimes when needed in an AU or when we need to bully Oikawa). After a few years, we needed OCs to fill up the Oniyanagi guardian vacant spots so we let them out of the basement for good. Now, they're KHR OCs, yippee! We're also using their voice claims for another pair of KHR OCs, but that's for tomorrow hehe

[frostmarris]

heart eater, bloodletter

Suigetsu/Sakura | Morally Grey!Sakura | Pirate/Fantasy AU

summary: Mutiny, mayhem, murder - the moon will be blood red tonight.

additional tags: Pirates & Sailors, Witchcraft, blood and gore warning

notes: Suigetsu needs to get a doctor and the doctor needs his blood

written for the @akasakurevival 3 Artists, 1 Writer challenge! writers spun wheels for ships/prompts and a team of artists was randomly selected via wheel to create a collaborative fanart for the fic! I got Suigetsu/Sakura and Morally Grey!Sakura 👀 (i got a little carried away)

my artists were @arichii98 (sketch) @artofmintea (lines) and @hallous (colors)! Art is embedded in the fic hehe

The air is crisp and clean, sea salt and the scent of weathered wood surrounding him like a familiar blanket. It's different here on the coast, back on land, compared to out on the water. The ocean spray isn’t a constant bombardment against his face and the deafening crash and roar of the waves, the creaking and groaning of the ship, and the shouting and jaunts of the crew have finally gone silent.

Instead, there's the pleasant chatter of the townsfolk as they go about their morning business. Haggling in the market, pleasantries exchanged in passing, and laughter from old friends as they discuss the day ahead and the week passed. Suigetsu can't help but grin as he strolls down the main road of the market district, enjoying the feeling of steady stone ground underfoot. It's been four months since the crew had last made port and he'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to not be rocked back and forth and nearly thrown off his feet by rough waters. He spots a few other crew around as he explores, but they all either pay him no mind or send him a less than pleasant look.

The energy on the ship had been… tense, the past two weeks. Hurried, hush discussions in the crew quarters-

(Occasionally followed by a dirty look and a door closed in his face when he happened to pass by, the voices growing even more hushed as he tried to linger and eavesdrop - What were they saying? What was going on?)

- and a cold shoulder or twelve out on the deck. Suigetsu was the youngest of the crew by several years, but this certainly wasn't some sort of ageist exclusion. They were up to something , and the growing, nagging feeling had left him with restless sleep and far too many wary glances over his shoulder.

And, with the captain staying confined to his cabin the past five days, due to a growing ailment, he knew that everything would be coming to a head sooner rather than later.

[akai-anna]

Rambling post about The Art TM

Firstly, a special thank you to @livmadart who fuelled my motivation with her lovely tags on my art to finish making this post as soon as I could (life just likes to get in my way). You are such an amazing person and artist (by the way, everyone should totally check out Liv's BDay piece for our favourite little menace BECAUSE IT'S GORGEOUS), and your words always mean a lot to me (even if I'm not the best at communication, for which I apologize, still love and adore you, despite the awkwardness and sporadic talks).

The Idea

My art was inspired by the amazing @detshin's piece. Ever since I've seen it, I felt the urge to make a companion piece for it; I adore the composition and the symbolism in it to bits.

The Concept

I also wanted to take my own spin on the piece. From the start I wanted:

Conan's eyes not being covered (because he can see)

Conan looking at the viewer like he is looking straight into your soul. No thoughts, head empty why, it just felt right.

His mouth to be the one that is covered in some way. The sheer symbolism of his mouth being obstructed (but cannot speak) just made my heart ache so badly.

Changing the outfit based on this musing of mine.

As for the rest, it came about when sketching around, and waiting for that CLICK in my brain. And the forget-me-nots covering his mouth was that CLICK: SYMBOLISM IS MY LIFEBLOOD.

The Materials

I had 2 techniques in mind: watercolours and soft pastels. Ultimately I decided on soft pastels because

I haven't worked with pastels in YEARS, yet I adore the technique

I haven't used these pastels since I got them from an attic cleaning that we did for an old lady last year-ish (they would have been thrown away, after YEARS OF DISUSE and my heart couldn't take it, SUCH BEAUTIFUL MATERIALS TO WASTE AWAY)

I felt that what the material has to offer suited this particular piece: the vibrant colours offering a certain contrast to the original piece, and a certain feel (especially on the right paper) to the texture.

After some testing, I decided that going with a dark background works better: it made the colours more vibrant, and the slight texture of the paper did its magic. + Dark VS Light background colour was another nice contrast between the two pieces.

The Making

At first I didn't know what to use to sketch with, so I tested a couple things, and ultimately went with a white pencil: easy enough to erase if needed but also visible enough to see on this particular paper I had.

Looking up and studying tons of reference pictures for various things (sometimes with more, sometimes with less luck): the pose, facial features, the flowers... I have a whole folder of 'em LMAO

Actually drawing that sketch LOL

Then came the colours, which I tested on a separate piece of paper, to see which ones I want to use... After that I added the main blocks of colours.

And when I liked it, proceeding with the actual colouring: mixing all the different colours and layering them. In some places I used 4-6 colours (or more, depending how you look at it), while I used only 2, but mostly 3 in others.

Lastly: I used hairspray as a fixative, which slightly changed the quality and texture of the pastels and colours. (See below.)

The Feelings

As mentioned above, it has been years (I think around a decade actually, what the fck) since I used soft pastels, so it was a bit of a challenge to get back into using the material (and I'm not as experimental and confident I want to be yet, and likely fried my brain a little in the process). Also tons of fun, though! I forgot how much fun is there in the process of creation, and this piece brought that back into my life.

[sanctus-ingenium]

answering your asks vol 3

Full context for the Inprnt issue can be found here on this post , tl;dr my shop is closed until I receive my payments from inprnt in a timely manner and essentially won't reopen unless they clean up their act. Regarding the money they owe me outlined in that post, I still have not received it and on Friday I sent a support ticket in to inprnt demanding they send it soon. Haven't heard back since. I think where Inprnt is concerned, it's worth mentioning that they no longer send promotional emails (which used to be a regular occurrence) and there seems to be a complete lack of communication and the only thing about the site that regularly updates is the sale banner (ending soon!!! 🙄)

So honestly I'm of the opinion that the print on demand bubble has burst and that this method of selling art was a very short-lived feature of an internet that doesn't exist anymore. Think about it - I make money on a sale after having spent nothing on promotion, on materials, on postage fees, etc. It's so easy to game the system using bots or stolen art to essentially print free money that I'm shocked it even lasted as long as it did. Maybe I'm wrong but I won't tie myself to another print on demand service that's just going to pull the same old shit redbubble and inprnt have done this year, or one that requires me to constantly promo it like some kind of influencer on instagram or tiktok or whatever.

Will prints come back? I hope so. I am looking into local printing shops and considering the feasibility of handling the process myself but you must understand that if I do that, the price will rise. I won't have the ability to run constant discounts or eat a loss if I order 20 prints and only 7 sell. It is what it is.

And the actual worldbuilding asks below the cut lol:

(referring to this post)

Only if you want to! I've had a few people send me cool sketches and stuff via dms and it's always nice to see but you really shouldn't feel pressured to. After all it's not like I post my rough practice here lol (that goes on patreon ;)

-

I'm going to be SO real with you right now - I did not consider that at all. However I do know that tinting flames with various chemical compounds was a huge part of alchemy, part of the whole flashy show of it to impress the layperson. So sure, I bet they do throw in copper sulfate or various other chemicals to produce the coloured flames - these make a huge impression on witnesses who might not even have imagined such a thing possible, and also help identify a holy beast at a distance on a battlefield choked with smoke and dive-bombing serpents.

Fun fact, the flames come from the furnace wells, right. Each well is connected to specific systems, where it can most efficiently deliver fuel to the heart and onwards. So it is possible to 'read' the pattern of flame bursts from the furnace slits - they are not constant, but there'll be one every few seconds based on when the furnace tenders excite each well. You can tell at a distance, for example, that Leun is readying an acid spray, or rerouting power to the rear legs for a leap, or even what direction he's turning. It all runs at a slight delay, which is why the crew inside has to be SO closely coordinated.

-

@absolutely-flabbergasted Knights are allowed to reproduce but not marry, because it's sort of accepted theory that blood relatives of a knight will be 'accepted' by the knight's beast when the time comes. This is not true but it means that sometimes the knight's apprentices are their own children. The other parent is mostly another member of the church and usually not identified or considered important (unless they're a smith...). There are usually a decent number of known knight bastards running about.

Smiths are not allowed to have families or marry, because their first devotion should be to their art or their beast if they are assigned to one. If one tries, the kids are taken away, anonymised with new names, and put into the pool of potential novices in some other stable. Now, in reality some stables or churches are just not that strict and have a slightly different culture, so there's often an Open Secret about some master smith's illegitimate family or a priest's secret mistress. This is tolerated by the authorities to a certain degree but if it becomes too rampant there'll usually be a change of management and some sort of crackdown.

Families who give up their second born cannot stay in contact, but if the child becomes successful in some way (say, if the child becomes a knight) the families are sent tokens symbolising this which can be placed in the family/village shrine. This can be a huge point of pride, with some people faking the tokens just so that they can show off about their successful kids that are totally knight apprentices.

The reason they don't get to stay in touch with their children is due to the secretive nature of the church and its arts. The church has been at war with the neighbouring nations for a long time and only its mastery of engine work has kept it afloat, and nobody wants these secrets to fall into enemy hands. Particularly if your kid goes on to become a scribe, which is if anything an even more closely guarded profession than that of a knight (those engine diagrams don't draw themselves). The laity are usually quite devout and understanding of this. If they aren't, they might attempt to find their child, often without success.

If you want your church kid back: it depends. If you can prove to the church authorities that you need your child's labour to stay afloat or to carry on the family line, they might take that into consideration. Of course, the only children that return are the likes of sweepers, cleaners, altar boys, pages, etc. Nobody who might have witnessed any Secrets. The church is best understood as being in the middle of a cold war for the past few centuries (and sometimes just regular war) so it's far more closely guarded.

-

@kicks-tiktaalik-back-into-water

It's not likely. Even if the ventilation system worked perfectly, he is still from an older generation of holy beasts and no longer represents the pinnacle of the technology. Leun might have a less sophisticated ventilation system but everything else about him is head and shoulders more advanced - including the crew number he can take on. Leun only requires a single enginesmith in the heart, for example. This is because there's more automation of his systems, and he can actually manage to walk home from battle without anybody inside at all, just based on the knight's input (because the throne chamber is open to the air the knights are technically not inside the beasts). It's not preferable (it can damage the systems) but it is a huge bonus.

Think about how in the early days of commercial aviation, there could be as many as eight people working on the flight deck. In the 60s, a 3-person crew was standard; captain, first officer, and flight engineer. Today there are only two pilots needed. This is down to increased automation, and it means that it is cheaper to fly the plane - the airline has to hire fewer pilots, 'flight engineer' is a nonexistent role these days, and that means you need to train fewer people, have fewer people on call, feed fewer people etc etc. It is cheaper for the church to run Leun than it is to run Krokodilos and even though the church is wealthy, the money and resources are not infinite. Especially now, in times of plague. Leun, for all everybody sings his praises, is basically a reskinned Pantera with better systems - again, cutting costs, because now we can get all of Pantera's old enginesmiths to work on him instead of having to train up new ones on a brand new and wholly unique platform. It's as much a matter of logistics as it is innovation and technology.

[risunsky]

brushes

I've been asked the question again and I don't think I've given a detailed answer yet:

important note: these brushes work for clip studio and photoshop, I don't think they are compatible with procreate.

It's hard for me to talk about brushes because

I rename and reorganise them in the software so I never really remember where they come from.

I download a lot of them but I only use a few.

I have a very bad memory for names.

I use my programme in French, which means that for the basic brushes I can't even give you the reference so that you know exactly which brush I'm talking about.

That said, I'll try to give you some hints that might help.

here's how they look.

1 - This brush is supposed to reproduce a pencil effect, but I like it for the worn ink look of old comics. I used it in The Shepherd of Damned Souls and the Hellraiser crossover, both for the lineart and the colours. I like it a lot because it looks good even when drawn quickly without any effort to clean up, which saves me a lot of time. source: I'm not sure, either I downloaded it, it might have been in one of the free packs from an artist called: Corey Brickley Or it's basic under a name like realistic pencil.

2 - Another brush that's supposed to imitate pencil rendering. This is the one I use most by default. It's very thin, which is ideal for very small details, and it suits me just as well for a neat lineart as for a quick, messy sketch. I've used it in most of my drawings but the most recent example is the flute player for lineart only, I don't use it for colour. source: This is a basic clip brush, but as I use it in French and have renamed it I couldn't tell you its English name.

3 - I also use it a lot, for quick drawings that aren't clean and for clean drawings, I use it for shading or for small shiny things. I used it for shading the flute player. source: this is a basic brush, which should have been called something like: circular watercolour.

in association with n°3 i use another basic brush, found in the watercolour section, which is used for blending, it must be called something like fiber blender. it has a texture reminiscent of very diluted watercolour, where you can see the capillary absorption by the paper.

4 - another basic brush, called something like opaque watercolour. I use it for my illustration paintings without lineart. I use it in its basic mode but also with an encrusted texture (if it's not basic with the software then I've downloaded it from the clip resource library and it's called "$$$/presets/pattern/artistsurfaces_pat/watercolor").

ex link 1, ex link 2

5, 6 and 7. These are special brushes that I often use, but not always. Especially in Klimt and Beksiński remake or the Exctase remake. I know for sure that I downloaded them, but from where? I don't remember. I suppose they come from the free packs I've downloaded over the last 3/4 years from artists like :

Corey Brickley, RAV89, dauxasm, darek rabrocki, Devin Elle Kurtz, spartan.

That's all I can say, it may not be very helpful but I get asked that a lot so I had to try.

Having said that, I use so few of brushes and for such a short time that I think I'm the last person to have any good advice to give on the subject.

[erin-unknown]

3 or 16 for the Rook Codex entries!

Omg this took forever, sorry! My brain's been pudding lately 🫠

We'll do 16. Since my Rook technically has two love interests, I've got two "letters" lol. These are set post-game (though I don't think there are any spoilers).

~

Neve

A collection of notes on scraps of paper, all written in the same large and open hand, carefully hidden in the back of an old notebook.

Came by because I had a moment, but you were out. Love you! Had to leave early to make roll call and work assignments. I love you and I’ll find you at the Lamplighter after sunset like we planned. I’m off early again, sorry. Stay safe! Only the great Neve Gallus could have found something hidden so well. I love you. [a few cartoons of a very angry Tarquin captioned “my day”]

Neve – Just learned I’m heading down the catacombs with the Wardens tomorrow. We’ll be gone for a few days. I’ll find you at the Lamplighter like we agreed, but I can’t stay the night. Love you. Be ready for Trouble at that one spot down by the docks around noon. If you bring lunch, I’ll bring the rocks good rocks. I’m sorry again about last night. I love you.

~

Lucanis

A letter, enclosed with a few sheets of loose paper filled with several decent sketches of cats in various poses. The first few words of a response are tucked behind.

Lucanis

Hope our last letters got through. It’s only been a few months since you’ve left, but it feels like longer.

Been wondering if I should stay in Minrathous when the rest of the Wardens leave next year. I’ve been with them forever – they’re my life. I can incinerate darkspawn, keep a blade clean, and build a decent barricade in minutes, but not sure what else I’m good for right now. And that’s if I’m able to work at all. I'm afraid I'm not prepared to be just another elf in this city, once I drop the grey and blue. And what does any of this mean for Neve and I? For a woman who needs an answer to every question, she seems to like avoiding mine. Sorry, you don’t need my complaining. Anyway, maybe our friends here have an answer.

By “our friends” I of course mean all these cats. (look at them all!) I swear they follow me from the Warden camp to Neve’s apartment (she has an apartment!). I guess I was feeding them.

I picked up a few Bels-recommended serials to kill the time between shifts. We should compare notes, so write back soon, if you can. Or, better yet, come visit. That place down by the dry docks where we all ate a few times is back up and running. You, Neve, and I could go grab a bite. Like old times.

Dalgar

P.S. – Don’t tell Neve I’m still feeding the cats. I don’t think any of them are demons.

~

For anyone else, the rest of the questions are here. I may continue to be slow (because of work) but I do enjoy this sort of thing.

[fainthedcherry]

2024 Human Art VS 2019 Human Art !!!!!

AS PROMISED, HERE'S A POST WITH SOME NEW ART!!!

And also an art comparison, just to see, how much I improved in drawing the 2 bois <3

I'm MEGA tired despite having slept after work, but I WON'T let that deter me from writing a description!! YAPNADO AHEAD;

FINN AND MARCOOO. FINNANMARCO. BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE ACOUSTICALLY AND FERALLY YELLED ABOUT MY 2 FICTIONAL MEN WHOM ARE CLOSE TO MY HEART.

I'm SO glad, that in the new drawing, Marco finally looks like the twink he always was, but still enough meat on the bones to look NORMAL lmao, can't say that about the 4 other sketches of me trying to redraw this ref for years. xD (why yes, his wings took forever, why do you ask? /lh)

I'M MEGA SUPER DUPER GLAD, that Finn FINALLY looks like a chubby, wild bastard TOO, OH TOOTHPASTE MAN, HOW MANY HEARTACHES YOU GAVE ME OVER STRUGGLING TO DRAW AN ENDOMORPHIC BODY TYPE. BUT I CAN NOWWWWWWWwwww!!!!!

God this habit of loudly reading out my posts as I type them made me realise what a bad Schwarzenegger impression I do on accident bc I'm overly excited to post something after a month of silence SDKFSKLDG

ONE THING I ALWAYS WANTED TO DO. IS PUT EVERY DETAIL I NEEDED ON A BIG REF. SO I DID! I've drawn closeups of the boys's eyes, I've drawn Finn's tongue so that I don't need to constantly remind myself what his blush and flesh colours were sdfkldsgkl, I FINALLY denoted their heights, so people know that they're tall TALL dudes (and that Finn obviously will struggle w/ his lanky mfing legs, we LOVE giving a middle-aged man heart attacks once he reaches his 40's!!!)

ANNDDD ALSO SOME SIDE VIEWS OF THEM. The last side-view I had of F & M, looked REAL bad. Like, Marco's face looked WAY too stereotypically European (to my fault bc surprise surprise not many African people live in Europe so I had poor frame of reference but I've been fixing it via looking up images online instead, at least it helps but yeah, I have a hard time so far unfortunately💀), Finn's was just... B u c k e t. NOT LIKE HANDSOME BUCKET. BUT JUST BUCKET. IT NEEDED FIXING (fun fact I accidentally made Finn have the most attractive jaw shape for men according to beauty standards and I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW I JUST WANTED THIS MAN TO LOOK S Q U A R E AND THAT'S IT, MINECRAFT STEVE HAS MORE RIZZ THAN MOST MEN OFFICIALLY).

OH YEAH ALSO A CLAW REF AGAIN FOR FINN!!! His old ref looks too cool for me to give up on it tbh even as dated as it is sfjklsdglk, BUT I felt like I needed to redraw them properly.

FUNNILY ENOUGH A PERSON I COMMISSIONED SAID I HAVE SOME REALLY CLEAN AND NICE LINEART. I wish I heard that 5 years ago when I was really insecure about my bad lineart skills xD, I don't use lineart anymore nowadays outside of reference-drawings like these I don't plan to redraw in the next years unless necessary soooo yeah! They're gonna appear much rarer unless I go off and about making more ref sheets of all of my Sonc OC's sfklsdgsdfksdg

This drawing took 5 days to make btw. Not the hours spent on this LOL. 5 days of my life I'll never get back tho bc I care too much about my babies and I feel they deserve proper refs sdfklsdglk

WHAT ELSE SHOULD I MENTION.....HOPEFULLY I PLAN TO DRAW MORE HUMAN REFS IN THE FUTURE INSTEAD OF STAY IN MY COMFORT ZONE OF SONIC OCS ONLY. I for years wasn't confident in my ability to draw humans, but I can do so NOW at least!!!!!!!!!! Even if I'm like...3 years too late to how I wish my art looked back then already dsklfdsg, I have some high standards I need to continue to knock down as my 2024 resolution sdfklsdg

^IT'S BEEN WORKING THOUGH AS YOU CAN TELL BC I'VE BEEN UPLOADING SOME BAD DOODLES AND SKETCHES, BEEN DRAWING MORE GARBAGE AND BECAME MORE INVOLVED IN MY BELOVED FANDOMS. I wanna continue doing so! It was the most fun I've had with art ever. I hope to properly meet more fandoms I left in the past bc I thought it'd be embarrassing to share my passion for a franchise back then. I EMBRACE THE CRINGE NOW AS AN ADULT AT LEAST EVEN IF 7 YEARS TOO LATE ON THAT FRONT TOO. We all age and mature ig but I just become more silly year by year,,, c:

Oh yeah if you also see this btw lemme know, whether the new watermark tiles are subtle enough to not be noticed!!!! I know, watermarks are annoying and nobody likes them, but ever since AI invasions, I REFUSE to put my work online without ANY form of proof that somebody took it from my page. I just want people to stop lying on the internet for cloud and pick up a pencil. It's not that hard smfh. The only time I could excuse AI art is w/ amputees man. That's the only time I could empathise with someone, who wants to be an artist but LITERALLY can't bc they got dealt a bad hand in life. I digress my AI hate can be rambled about some other day, I know I love yapping and writing essays about THAT topic for sure sfklsdklg

I chose to post this ref to my Tumblr first tho, bc I still wanna work on my drawing of Abbacchio,,,, he is quite dear to me and I'd love to put effort into a doodle of him that won't take too long. Like 4 hours or 5 hours tops. I still have yet to figure out, if his cute star shape on his head is a hat or part of his hair. Bc I CAN'T TELL TBH AND I'VE BEEN DRAWING IT AS PART OF HIS HAIR PATTERN BUT I THINK IT'S A HAT NOW EVER SINCE I LOOKED AT MORE ASBR CAPS OF HIM I TOOK FOR REFERENCES. xD

Also another side-note, but I've ofc reduced down the lankiness of the dudes I draw™, but I in result wanted to sliiightly make larger feet/hands bc my Sonic phase will continue to possess me 'til the end of time /hj, if you also wanna lemme know what you think on that, bls do! I am messing about with stylization still. I am finding my footing with stylizing humans sOOO yeah!!!! I hope to some day be satisfied with my artstyle change of '24! So far it's been really rewarding and eye-opening to me and my journey as an artist for my 7 years of existing on the 'net w/ my silly goobers I like to scream about to in the void <3

Once again, tagnado also incoming below bc I dunno how to properly tag my art so lemme throw in things I THINK are relevant to this post sdkldsgkl

See you hopefully tomorrow w/ a lil doodle dump if I get around to it!!!! : D

[alvfr]

The Ex from Hell - Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

I think this is related the demonic ex prompt I wrote here. I’m not sure if this goes before or after, but I’ll figure it out and link accordingly. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you take the time to read and feel free to reblog if you want <3

WIP: The Ex from Hell Excerpt rating: T Word count: 1.74k

It was a dull Sunday in March when Cousin Kathy knocked on my door. The sleet of a poor man’s winter clung to the black felt of her wide-brimmed hat, and she huddled in her fashionably oversized coat, also black, where she stood on the steps of the sober living house I currently called home. She looked like the singular inked character in a pencil sketch, all sleek black lines separating her from the muted gray background that made up the neighborhood. The deep, rich black of her clothes clashed with the vivid red of her hair, toning into her pale skin that tinted pink from the nippy weather.

“I would say it’s good to see you,” she said after being ushered inside, her voice thin and girlish. Just like her face was seventy percent eyes and two percent nose. So pretty, she almost looked fake. A doll. “But that would be a lie, so I’ll abstain. I would also say that you look good, but alas, another lie. You’ve gained weight.”

“You know, for a second, I was actually happy to see you, Kath.” I left her standing in the hallway that was under constant maintenance and always smelled of paint, and I trudged up the stairs. All too aware of how my steps made the old wood creak with discomfort and remained mum when Cousin Kathy flittered up to follow me. “Not surprised, though. Figured it was only a matter of time before one of you showed up to gloat.”

“I wish I was here to gloat.” Like the rest of her, Kathy’s voice felt foreign in the somber house. Too thin and too sharp, like a stiletto dagger piercing the delicate ecosystem within the walls. Disrupting the relative peace of people like me just existing. Shuffling around and doing their chores, trying to get one day to turn into the next. Kathy kept her hands inside her coat pockets and gave the impression that if she’d had a handkerchief, she would have held it over her nose and mouth. Like she had entered a phthisis ward and not a sober living facility. “Alas, I have come for more serious business.”

If the house was a sanitorium, my room was the plague pit. Kathy visibly recoiled when entering, the bare landlord-white walls and naked linoleum floors apparently too much for her sensitive disposition. I would be the first to admit that it was not much to look at — a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a chair — but it was clean and organized, all of my meager belongings safely tucked away in the closet. Orange floral curtains, probably donated by a previous resident, covered the windows, and I could picture someone adding the pop of color as an afterthought. Maybe hoping it would help brighten the place up and instead only emphasized the dreariness of the room.

I kicked off the soft slippers I wore indoors, sat cross-legged on the bed, which I made every morning before inspection, and gestured for Kathy to have the chair. It was the polite thing to do, after all. Seeing her squirm, caught between gentility and repulsion, was just an added bonus. She ended up perching on the very tip of the chair, trying to sit on it and not touch it at the same time, and folded her hands neatly in her lap.

It had been years since I last saw Kathy, and I knew those years had been less kind to me than her. Both in our early thirties, we looked roughly two decades apart. Some due to genetics, and the rest probably due to makeup and other kinds of camouflage.

It would be a tough sell to convince anyone about both our shared age and our relation, so opposite in every sense of the word. Kathy’s red hair swept around her face, so perfectly blown out it belonged on the cover of a magazine. In contrast, my curly locks hung limp around my face, scrubbed of all volume and shine from the industrial-strength shampoo provided in the communal showers. And while Kathy’s skin could be described as porcelain, white, and smooth, I was more like an old tablecloth, pale and riddled with mysterious spots. Only our eyes were alike, light gray and unblinking, with one pupil slightly bigger than the other.

“So, what’s new?” I leaned back on the bed where my gray sweatpants blended in with the bed sheets that had probably been white a couple of hundred washes ago. “What serious business brings you all the way across town?”

“We think it’s time you come home.”

Once, those words would have slapped me right into sobriety. Pity I had taken the hard way there instead. It cost every iota of self-control to keep still, to avoid bursting into laughter or tears or hysteria at those senseless, reckless words she had just uttered like she was commenting on the weather. That was Kathy for you, she did not beat around the bush.

“I am home.”

Kathy narrowed her eyes slightly, squinting in hopes of seeing me more clearly. As if her dear old grandmother suddenly had grown pointed ears and a mouth full of fangs. I did not move from my spot, biting my teeth together as hard as possible and hoping she did not see how my jaw tightened. It was not a lie, I reminded myself. Technically and legally, this was my home.

“You know what I mean,” Kathy eventually said as if daring me to contradict her. “We feel that now that you have served your sentence, you are ready to return to the Manor.”

“Which one?”

“There is only one Manor, Cousin.”

“No, no, I mean, which sentence are you referring to? My two-year stint in Pollwood or my lifetime banishment from our family?”

She stared at me while I stared back, neither of us blinking for an unnaturally long time. A game we had played as children and brought with us into adulthood. A game I had always excelled at, and sure enough, it did not take too long before a hint of a nervous smile played upon her doll-like lips. “Both.”

“Lifetimes sure aren’t what they used to be,” I said and kept staring unblinkingly at her to look for any clues. “What’s changed?”

Kathy’s little mouth pursed into a pin-prick before she answered, clearly choosing every syllable with care. “We need you back.”

“Need is not the same as want.”

“I never said it was.“ She rose from her chair, smoothed her hands over her coat, and nodded to herself. “A taxi will come around tomorrow at eight. That should give you plenty of time to pack and settle whatever affairs you might have.”

“Yeah, uhm, I’m not leaving.” I settled further in the bed, subconsciously emphasizing my words. “No matter when the taxi comes around, really. So you just run back to the Manor and let them know that, as far as I’m concerned, my lifetime is still rolling. I’d thank you for stopping by, but I won’t.”

Kathy paused, looking like a magazine clipping pasted into the trepid room. “You are aware that your accommodation is sponsored by our funding.”

Not a question, did not beget an answer and yet I failed to keep quiet. “My inheritance after Granny pays for my accommodation.”

“An inheritance that is managed by the family, as stipulated quite clearly in Grandmother’s will. A copy was sent your way, but I suppose you were too busy to bother reading it. Like you were too busy to attend her funeral.”

“Funerals are for the living,” I said, a mockery of the whole truth, but an acceptable substitute ever the same. “But I managed without your cash for about ten years. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Managed.” Kathy smiled, showing off teeth that seemed too large for her head. “I suppose you can call it that. But I don’t suppose you have a plan. Except maybe taking your ex-husband back to court, see if there’s a chance of reinstating the alimony? I would suggest hiring a proper attorney this time. He did get out of your previous deal quite fast. Just as the marriage itself.”

“So you have been keeping tabs on me all these years. Good to know. I don’t recall seeing your name on the registry for our wedding though. Not that you were invited, of course, but when has that ever stopped Katherine the Great?”

“Never.”

“Yeah. If you must know, I’d rather cut off my own arm than accept any kind of help from him again. And I would cut off my other arm rather than return to the Manor. You can quote me on that when you go back to kiss Hester’s ass.” As predicted, Kathy recoiled at my crude word choice. “Close the door on your way out, please.”

She remained immobile where she stood on the floor. “This is non-negotiable, I’m afraid.”

With a shrug, I picked up my phone and swiped through non-existing notifications to feign disinterest. “It often is with you guys.”

“You guys,” Kathy parroted and my neck prickled from the power of her stare. My phone screen flickered and went black, forcing me to look up at Kathy’s pinched face. “You guys. How many days do you have now?”

“Ninety-one.”

“Not those days.” Kathy swivelled back to face me, feet and hands together, like a ballerina. “Don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. Don’t make me ask you outright.”

“Like I said, it’s been about ten years now.” I tried to shrug, to give of the impression of ease, to distract from the way my teeth ground together. “So three thousand days, maybe, give or take.”

“Three thousand days since you practiced,” Kathy’s head tilted to the side, like a predator catching the distant pattering of prey, “or three thousand days since you tried?”

The strain from my jaw planted up to my temples, setting off thumps of a brewing migraine. “Yes.” We stared at each other, waiting for the other to blink, but now Kathy had the upper hand and she knew it. I swallowed the sharp edge in my throat. “No.”

Instead of the victorious smirk I expected, Cousin Kathy’s eyebrows softened and she gave a sad nod. “Come home, Harmony. We need you to come home now.”

“Why?”

“Because people are dying and we need your help to stop it.”

[maddiebiscuits]

i don't know how to phrase this any other way so i hope you don't find this rude or anything: you are (imo) a very skilled, very prolific art toaster. it's great quality artwork obviously, but your turnaround is wicked crazy fast to me. what does burnout look like for you? how do you manage to toast so many arts? what dark magics must you employ??

The hard truth is I worked in journalism for two years between 2010-2012 and customer service/hospitality starting at 16 years old in 2007 all throughout my life until 2022 and I don't want to go back to any of it now that I'm almost 33 - that's the main motivator to keep my freelance gig career doing art commissions going as long as possible. Fear and loathing of going back to that work environment keeps me focused.

In action...I'm not quite sure if I ever experience 'burn out'? I do experience art 'block' in that I can't think of anything to draw on my own or feel really unsatisfied with my work...so I just goof off with my canvas or do studies, but this doesn't interfere with doing commissions where I am told what to draw.

I just enjoy the physical act of drawing. Sometimes when I'm bored and restless and going for a walk doesn't help, I just draw more. When I was a kid I would just come home from school and draw crap between playing Gameboy/N64/Gamecube or browsing Elfwood/Newgrounds/DeviantART/Gaia Online, so it's literally just a habit now. If I don't draw for a long time I feel anxious and unwell. Somehow I just programmed my brain to think that art = leisure fun time, even if it's for work. I also tend to get into a "zone" sometimes and just put on video essays or music and a few hours later I'll have worked through some commission stuff.

I have three 'task lists' for my workflow:

A public trello board organized by work order types (N/SFW link)

A personal trello board organized by type/date in chronological order

A coloured tagging and folder system in my emails where I can just see the actual dates/timestamps of my last correspondence with a client so I know exactly who in my taskboard needs to be prioritized for their next WIP update

I hold myself to a standard of sending a client a WIP in stages:

rough draft (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

line art (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

final render (1-14 business days)

tweaks (1-2 business days)

So ideally, the client gets a finished commission in 3-6 weeks, so about 1-2 months. For larger projects I send more WIPs and the process is obviously longer. For simpler stuff like chibis, it's rarely a full six weeks. Over holidays I add an extra two weeks to my noted turn-around to account for IRL time off. On all my terms of service I have a maximum four months turn-around, essentially doubling the time I know my work flow is just in case there's some sort of medical or equipment emergency in my life that I need to account for that gives me a buffer (I also notify all clients)

Monday to Friday I wake up usually...late morning/early afternoon? I do anywhere from four to eight hours of artwork, broken up by walks, stretching, eating, cleaning, cooking, hanging out with my partner, etc. I look at my personal trello taskboard and emails to see what must be done and what can wait. I try to get at least 1-2 things done in a day though, be that sketches/line art/renders/revisions.

Right now I am looking at my email and task board, and the client with the highest wait time chronologically is someone who is waiting for their final render (sketch and line art already revised and done for them). Last email correspondence with them on the email says 9 days ago (so 7 business days, I'm supposed to take Sat-Sun off). Their order was paid in full and confirmed by me on November 9 and it is currently December 13, so I'm at about the 5 week mark (not accounting for delays in clients getting back to me of course) and I am very much On Course for my work load, no one has been without contact from me for 14 days or more so I'm pretty ahead of my game right now! I could take tomorrow off if I wanted, or only do 3-4 hours of work if I feel like it.

However the more work you finish and post, the more you show prospective clients your ability to finish orders and show your audience more art for engagement, so ideally I always like posting stuff when I can, it just creates a cycle of positive production and income.

[keepsdeathhiscourt]

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature (18+ Only)

Story Summary: It's been ten years since Lucie LeMarche last set foot in New Orleans. But when she's forced to return to bury the woman who raised her, she finds herself pulled into the midst of rising supernatural tensions in the city. Entangled in a web of intrigue and seeking answers, Lucie must learn to navigate a powder keg of warring factions, family secrets, and old wounds if she hopes to survive.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Language, Death, Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Family Drama

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

Chapter 3: Mirror Images

Lucie lies low for the next couple of days, only leaving the sanctuary of her downtown hotel for necessities.

She’s not hiding. It’s what she tells herself, repeating it like a mantra until she believes it. Still, it’s all too easy to find an excuse to order takeout, to settle into the floral wallpapered confines of her second-floor room.

It’s been three nights since the encounter with Marcel and his posse -three nights since she found Jane-Anne dead- and she’s passed the time alternating between watching mindless television on the ancient, staticky set and staring out the window.

This morning, she’s engaged in the latter, watching people and cars buzz by with rapt interest. A woman weaves through sidewalk foot traffic, her heels high and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She has two coffees stacked on top of the other and her cell phone is pressed between her shoulder and her ear. It’s a bold choice, but her stride is smooth and confident as she chatters to someone on the other line. She does not know that the city is crawling with vampires.

On the other side of the street, a man crouches down with a plastic baggy while he zips his windbreaker to his chin. The leashed Labrador flits between him and the nearest passerby, seeking pets, as his owner scoops his leavings off the sidewalk with a wrinkled nose. He could never imagine a coven of witches ruling the neighborhood.

She finds she’s jealous of him, of the woman, of every person who passes by on the way to complete mundane tasks in average lives and loved ones waiting at home. Right now, she’d give anything to trade places with any of them, if only for a day. Twenty-four hours in which the supernatural exists only in stories. 

A pickup rolls up to a stoplight, honking its horn at the sedan in front of it the second the light turns green, and Lucie imagines another life. One where she kicks off her shoes after another day in an office. In this universe, she’s greeted at the door by a dog and maybe even a partner. They smile at her and ask about her day over dinner and fall into bed together at night. And when she closes her eyes to rest before another average day, she feels safe. In this place, no one murders women to prove points and no one pushes children to embrace powers they don’t understand.

She presses her eyes closed, resting her forehead against the cool glass, and allows herself a few moments of indulgence. But before long, her thoughts stray back to the situation at hand. She runs it over in her mind, trying to make sense of it.

How could Marcel Gerard possibly know any time a witch practiced magic in the Quarter?

And, knowing the consequences, why would Jane-Anne risk her life?

No matter what angle she looks at it, she can’t seem to find any satisfying answers. All she can do is wonder what had happened here in her absence. She shakes her head, like her brain is an etch-a-sketch and the motion might wipe the slate clean. She moves to turn away from the window when she catches something out of the corner of her eye. Down on the closest street corner, a man stands with hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. His face is too shadowed to know for sure, but his head seems to tip up towards her, like he knows she sees him. 

The phone rings, vibration loud as a gunshot against the lacquered end table. She jolts as the device continues to ring, cutting over the sounds of traffic and the low garbled conversion of a TV infomercial. Stepping over a takeout box, she grabs the phone and glances at the screen.

Incoming Call: Arabella

Her finger hovers over the green button as the ringtone starts from the beginning again. A few seconds tick by as she stares at it, then a few more until finally it stops.

It had been only a week ago that Lucie had received Arabella’s late-night phone call. Seven days since she’d listened to her cousin tell her in a tearful, halting voice that the only mother she’d ever known was dead.

Truthfully, she isn’t sure why she’d been dodging her cousin’s phone calls, only that she’d spent all the time since that night in a state of emotional free fall. 

Phone still in hand, she glances over her shoulder and towards the window. Whoever she’d thought she’d seen, he’s gone now. It strikes her as odd. Despite being at the opposite end of the street when she’d first seen him, there’s no sign of him and she knows none of the nearby shops are open yet. It’s like he stepped off the curb and vanished. She concludes he was never there at all, just the light playing tricks on her exhausted mind. Then she drags a hand over her face and through her hair, which is far, far too greasy, even for her own company. Still, skin prickling with the sensation of unseen eyes on her, she jerks the curtains closed before she turns her back to the window. 

She pads the length of the room towards the adjoining bathroom. There isn’t much in the way of square footage and it doesn’t take her long to navigate the minefield of discarded styrofoam boxes, coffee cups, and stray clothes strewn haphazardly across the place; the impressive accomplishment of only a few days. In actuality, it’s not all that different from her norm. Replace the floral wallpaper with tacky stucco and scatter a few more bottles across the room with some past-due notices, and it could almost be a dead ringer for her apartment back in Albuquerque.

Lucie winces as her feet hit the cold linoleum and flicks the light switch, bathing the room in a sterile, white light that flickers overhead every couple of minutes. She blinks against the intrusion, adjusting to the brightness. Her reflection blinks back at her behind streaks in the mirror, eyes red and punctuated with deep smudges. 

Yeah, she looks like shit. 

It’s no real surprise, given the sluggish lifestyle of the last couple of days. But knowing is different from seeing it -or feeling it. She pulls at a lank strand of hair and winces before turning to start the shower. The sound of rushing droplets bounces off the tiles in a way that promises decent water pressure. Only after waving a hand under the flow to check the temperature, she undresses and slips in. The water is warm, beating a steady rhythm against the knotted muscles in her neck and back. It’s enough to make Lucie groan.

She reaches for the tiny bottle of hotel shampoo, lathering a generous amount between her palms and massaging it into her scalp. It’s like magic for her mood. The feeling lingers even as she turns the tap and wraps the towel around herself, still glowing with remnants of warmth. 

She steps out into the thick cloud of steam that permeates the confined space and drinks in the humidity with greedy breaths. She’s careful not to slip as she approaches the mirror, squeezing the excess water from her hair. A sheen of fog coats the glass, veiling everything but the sharper lines of her silhouette.

She reaches for her hairbrush, running the bristles through her hair, methodically untangling the more stubborn knots. The plastic handle clatters when she returns it to its home on the counter. When her eyes drift up to the still-steamy mirror, she goes still. 

But the reflection does not.

Instead, its blurred form seems to move on its own accord. Its arms extend, beckoning to her, and it squares the broad lines of its shoulder: the posture that is too long and too perfect to ever belong to her. 

The side of her hand catches the hairbrush, knocking it from the counter and onto the tiles with a clatter.

Against the speckled beige counter, her phone buzzes. She jumps, tearing her eyes away from the mirror and towards the source of the noise. Arabella’s name flashes across the screen again. This time, she only lets it ring twice before she answers, swiping up with clumsy fingers.

“Hello?” she says, breathless and uncertain, as if she didn’t already know who was on the other line.

“Lucie!” Her cousin’s warm voice sounds in her eye, contrasting with the impersonal neutrals of the bathroom. “You answered. I’ve been trying to catch you all week.” |

Arabella’s voice sounds shaky. It’s enough to make her feel guilty for dodging her calls. 

Lucie leans against the sink, the porcelain cool against her skin, and tries to soothe her thumping heart. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay? You sound…off.” She doesn’t miss the edge of concern. “You’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

She barely catches the question, eyes trained on the foggy mirror. Absently, she raises a hand. The reflection follows suit.

“No, no.” She waves it off. ‘I’m just…it’s been a long week” “

The line goes quiet, but she knows her cousin is still there. She can feel her presence on the other end.

She nudges the damp towel she’d employed in lieu of a bath mat with her foot, encouraging it flat, and debates whether to tell her about the man in the suit or the mirror. She decides against it, chalking it all up to stress and lack of sleep. Instead, she asks what’s been on the back of her mind since she got the news of Violette’s death. 

“What happened, Bella? You never told me.”

“You never asked,” she replies softly. It’s not a rebuke, just a statement of fact. “Pneumonia. That’s what the doctor said.”

“Pneumonia,” she repeats. She doesn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. It’s underwhelming in a way, to imagine her formidable great-aunt put to rest by something so common. But she’d been an old woman for most of Lucie’s life and larger than life though she may have been, she was only mortal in the end. 

“Listen, Lucie. I know your default is to carry this alone, but don’t. We can do this together.” Arabella offers gently. Then adds, before she can protest, “Let’s grab coffee tomorrow. I’d love to see your face before the funeral.” 

She wants to argue, to turn her down on instinct. But she can feel the wide smile on the other line and, to be honest, she’s had more than enough being alone to last her a lifetime.

So she agrees and after settling on time and place, she hangs up the phone with trembling hands and glances at the mirror, now free of fog. Her reflection blinks back at her, pale and apprehensive.

____

Under a canopy of ageless trees, wedged between a tax office and a brewery, sits The Lazy Bean. Once a double-family shotgun, the pale orange coffee house now serves as a haunt for bleary-eyed commuters and hipsters looking to finish their screenplays. 

The shop is half full, energy winding down after the lunchtime rush, but she only spends a minute in line before the barista takes her order. 

She posts up against the far wall to wait. The interior is painted a sunny, chipped yellow, but it’s nearly impossible to tell; each wall is covered floor to ceiling in painted canvases and flyers advertising local events. And any spare corner or window sill has been repurposed into a home for a mishmosh of potted plants. In a strange way, it reminds her of the cluttered quiet of the Jardin Gris. 

The barista calls out her order. Sidestepping a young man in a fringed coat, she retrieves the steaming ceramic mug. It’s purple and, by the imprints along the handle, likely homemade. She murmurs her thanks and slips through clusters of tables and mismatched chairs.

Arabella is there, waiting, when she steps out onto the back patio. But she doesn’t see her right away. Lucie takes the opportunity to drink her in, unobserved. 

Seated at a corner table, she taps at her mug with pale, anxious fingers. She’d never been able to sit still. Even as a child, she’d always been twiddling her fingers or pulling a lock of copper hair. It’s darkened with age, she notes, eyeing the deep, rich auburn that spills over her shoulders. She worries at her lip with her teeth. There’s a pronunciation to her cheekbones and a wariness around her eyes that wasn’t there before, but otherwise little has changed. A smattering of freckles stretches across her nose and her round cheeks are flushed in the sun, the same as the girl she remembers. 

A surge of insecurity washes over her. after all, ten years is a very long time, especially spanning over that critical junction between adolescence and maturity. Lucie knows that for all she might look like her cousin, Arabella and her sixteen-year-old self might have little in common. She wonders what the woman tapping her foot under an oak might think of her wayward cousin. Will she like who she sees?

It’s enough to make her reconsider. She hasn’t been seen yet. There’s still time to leave before she-

“Lucie!” Arabella’s cheerful voice rings out, waving to catch her attention. Her pink lips curl in a smile that reveals the charming gap between her white teeth and makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. Despite her uncertainties, Lucie’s smile widens at the sight of her.

The wooden planks groan beneath her boots as she makes her way to the table.

“Hey,” Lucie greets softly, sinking into the chair opposite her.

“Hey,” Arabella responds in kind, matching Lucie’s shy demeanor. “I was worried you wouldn’t show.”

Lucie hesitates before admitting, “I wasn’t going to.”

“But you did, and that’s what matters,” Arabella says, a hint of relief in her voice, as she sets down her tea and reaches across the table to squeeze Lucie’s hand. “It’s so good to see you, Luce. I can’t believe you’re here.”

If she had been worried about ill-will or uncomfortable reunions, there’s none to be had. Not from Arabella.

“It’s been good to see you too, Bella. You look great.”

“Thanks. And you look rough,” Arabella says, then quickly amends, “I mean, you look good, just tired.”

Taking a sip of her coffee, Lucie nods. “It's been tough, to say the least.”

Arabella offers a sympathetic hum, and the conversation lapses into a shared moment of grief. Lucie admires the way the dappled shade of an oak paints patterns across her freckled skin, and how the sun picks out strands of her hair in gilded orange. 

Eventually, Arabella breaks the silence. “She asked for you, you know - right at the end.”

Lucie doesn’t need to ask who she’s referring to. Violette’s presence is as corporeal as if she were occupying a chair beside them. Unsure of what to say, she takes a long sip of her drink, feeling the warm bitterness spread through her.

“Honestly,” Arabella continues, “I don’t think you were ever far from her thoughts. Sometimes, she’d get this faraway look in her eyes, and I just knew she was thinking about you.”

Lucie snorts softly. “You mean thinking about what a catastrophic failure I turned out to be?”

Her tone may be flippant, but the sentiment chafes. The second she had left the city limits, she might as well have been dead to Violette. She was sure every trace of her had been struck from the record with a methodical precision. If she had been so desolate in Lucie's absence, why hadn’t she ever called? 

“Oh, Lucie,” Arabella says, dismayed. “It’s not like that at all. You know that, right?”

“I don’t really know what to think anymore, Bella,” Lucie says, feeling the weight of her uncertainty.

“I know things are different,” Arabella reassures her, “but that doesn’t necessarily have to mean bad. It just means ‘different.’”

Lucie cants her head, acknowledging the truth in her cousin’s words. “I wouldn’t exactly call being shunned a positive.”

The constricting feeling in her chest belies her nonchalance. Even at a distance of ten years, the memory still stings. The absence of the connection throbs like a phantom limb.

“So you can’t tap into ancestral power, so what?” Arabella shrugs. “You still have your magic, and more importantly, you still have family.”

“Do I?” It’s a question she’d asked herself many times in those early days of exile. And as months stretched into years of near radio silence from all except the woman across from her, it was a foregone conclusion that the answer was a resounding: No.

Arabella insists, “Of course you do.”

Her optimism is unyielding, like looking into the sun. It clashes with the tender angst in Lucie's stomach. Feeling a flicker of irritation, she shifts in her seat. “I don’t think the coven is going to roll out the welcome mat.”

“They only just found out you’re here. Just give them time,” Arabella offers by way of explanation. “The Elders have been a little preoccupied lately. There’s a lot going on-”

“Like getting Jane-Anne’s body back from Marcel?” Lucie interjects.

Her cousin is taken aback. “I… How did you know?”

“I found her in the middle of Royal with her throat cut, Arabella,” Lucie says, something sharp seeping into her tone at the confirmation that she'd known too. “Something like that is hard to miss.”

“Shit,” Arabella curses softly. “I’m so sorry you had to find out like that. I was getting around to telling you, honest. But I wasn’t sure how to bring it up and I thought it would be kinder to drop the news gently.”

Lucie’s patience wears thin. “You know what would’ve been better? If you told me what was happening so I didn’t have to hear it from Marcel-fucking-Gerard.”

This time it’s her cousin’s turn to fidget in her seat. She passes the cup back and forth between her hands, chewing at her lip as she seems to be mustering up the right words. “It’s been hard around here for a while now. I need you to understand that before I tell you what I’m about to tell you.” |

She can’t help the involuntary flutter in her stomach. “Arabella, what are you-?”

“You have to promise me. Promise that you’ll keep an open mind,” she says in a shaky rush, “or I’m not going to say another word.”

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

She hesitates, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before she begins. 

“Since you’ve been away, things in the city have taken a turn. It started with small incidents - a shop in the Cauldron vandalized, a few witches harassed. But then it escalated rapidly. Nightwalkers began patrolling the streets, monitoring our every move and word. The safe areas for practicing magic shrank until all nine covens could only operate within five city blocks.”

“One night, the Elders convened at Greataunt Violette’s. They had a heated discussion behind locked doors. Violette stormed out, pretty upset. When she came back, she told Viv and I that the Elders had reached a decision.”

Arabella pauses, her cup nearly empty, prompting Lucie to inquire further. “What decision?”

“To proceed with the Harvest Ritual.”

Lucie’s world spins at the revelation. “The Harvest Ritual,” she repeats, her voice flat.

“Our powers were diminishing, and it had been centuries since the last Harvest. We needed to renew our bond with the Ancestors,” Arabella explains.

“I know how it works,” Lucie snaps, immediately regretting her tone.

Arabella continues, undeterred. “Four girls were chosen: Abby, Cassie, Davina, and… Monique.”

Lucie feels sick. “Monique Deveraux?”

Arabella nods solemnly. “Yes.”

“What happened?” Lucie demands, gears turning. “Tell me everything you know.”

And she tells her. She tells her about how the Elders showered the chosen girls in honors and praises; she tells her about how they were marched like lambs to the slaughter, expecting a prick on the thumb up until the moment Bastiana slit Abigail’s throat. And finally, she tells her about Marcel Gerard’s intervention and his swift, furious retribution upon the witches of New Orleans for what they’d done. 

Lucie doesn’t speak for the duration of her story, only listens as Arabella tells it in faltering pieces. 

By the time she finishes, hands shaking and eyes weary, the sun is beginning its descent into the west. The diminishing rays cast the patio in streaks of gold and orange that fall across Arabella’s face as Lucie watches her.

“Lucie, say something. Please,” she says when the weight of the silence becomes unbearable. 

Lucie’s arms instinctively wrap around her chest. “What do you want me to say, Bella?”

Arabella’s voice trembles, thick with emotion. “I don’t know. Something. Anything.”

Lucie’s hand cards through her hair in a futile attempt to find the right words. “I...,” she struggles, the words slipping through her grasp. Finally, she manages, “I need to go.”

The chair protests against the patio as she stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Where?” Arabella says with a note of desperation.

“I don’t know,” Lucie admits, her head shaking in numb disbelief. “I just... I need some time to think.”

Arabella’s expression wavers between concern and resignation as she nods in reluctant acceptance and Lucie disappears down the street.

[weirdagnes]

Hello! I am here for the Art Ask Game! ^_^)

How many different sketches do you usually have until your piece is finished?

A piece from this year that you're really proud of?

Something you would like to improve on?

What's something you hope people notice when looking at your art?

ooo i love answering asks >:] 💜 Thank you for sending some! (warning: long post)

1. How many different sketches do you usually have until your piece is finished?

If it’s a commission (that doesn’t require drawing the exact reference), I have 4 stages of sketching:

Stage 1. Ideas sketching. I do stickmans and general shapes that are most understandable to me. Doesn’t have to be clean, just enough for me to understand how I will place my elements in the paper, how movement flows, how the posture will look, etc etc. Here are some of my stage 1 sketches:

This one’s for a collab painting I will do with a friend. That’s our sketches while conceptualizing.

These are my concept sketches for the recent splatoon commission I did. For commissions, I always do 3-6 sketches of different poses when given freedom, which I will then present to my client and see which one they like best and I’ll go with it (bc I’m indecisive too LMAO)

Stage 2: Presentable concept sketch. When I have these ideas pinned down, I’ll make a more presentable version of the sketch to send to the client. That means visible body shape & posture, key facial expressions, mvt indications, etc. Following the splatoon commission sketches, here’s their stage 2:

Stage 3: Initial sketch on paper. When the client chose which posing is best, I’ll sketch it down on paper. I use rule of thirds, mark the margins, make sure the proportions are aligned and correct before I do the last stage (bc it’s going to be tedious to readjust everything once I’ve noticed it’s not centered or smth like that). I forgot to take a picture of the other posing’s stage 3, but it’s like this!

Stage 4: Lineart sketching. DO NOT jump straight to hard lineart, it will leave marks or stains when you erase. Sketch lightly first with an HB or 2B or any B pencils, honestly it’s in your hand’s pressure control and how you hold the pencil, but personally HB or 2B is good. This stage can be messy as long as the main lineart is shaping.

After that, I can start 1st stage of lineart! But this is all when I do commissions or serious pieces tho. If I’m sketching for fun, I just do 1 sketch then straight to lineart ^^

2. A piece from this year that you’re really proud of?

Honestly, I’m still proud of my concept art projects for my 2D and 3D animation subjects! When I look at it, it makes me feel like a professional concept artist☺️ It’s a warm feeling seeing my old OCs drawn like they’re posted in artstation or something hahah.

3. Something you would like to improve on?

I would like to improve on a lot of things, but getting started & staying consistent is mostly my obstacle when I want to improve. I want to learn how to draw:

Hair and different types of it. Hair is the thing I hate looking at in my drawings bc I can’t get it to look how I want it to.

Backgrounds - landscapes, cityscapes, seascape, etc (and how to be patient drawing it bc I always give up halfway LMAO)

Reflective surfaces

Different textures (fuzzy texture, chrome, rough, etc)

Bokeh & blurs (traditionally, on paper)

Shadows of two or more light sources crossing together.

Plants and flowers. Always so embarrassing to draw a piece with flora in it bc they look so elementary level LMAO I absolutely love flowers, but god have you seen my “Unbosom” artwork, I was NOT proud of how I drew petunias ;w;

Animals. I will not be showing my pathetic attempts in sketching a horse from memory, but you can imagine how horrible it was for me to want to improve on drawing animals.

Musical instruments. Still a struggle, especially when instruments are drawn from a different angle like that one time I did the Issei Noro digital fanart.

Fire and water.

4. What’s something you hope people notice when looking at your art?

I hope people notice the composition! I’m trying to be mindful of space, visual weight, and shapes of the movement or the posing, they contribute a lot to how to make a drawing less static or empty looking. But honestly, if the viewers didn’t notice, that’s fine ^^

[televinita]

Companions...as companions

(or, “things that have been in my drafts since early 2020″)

Back in December, I got overwhelmed by feelings and wrote a random little concept sketch re-imagining The (Tenth) Doctor as a regular human and the companions as various pets, summarizing each one's place in his life ("Donna is a dog he reluctantly fostered for a friend, still reeling from the loss of Rose. She's bigger, older, a bit more stubborn and independent, but he finds himself fond of her anyway. Until she gets adopted, and he has to let her go (enter Martha). A year later she's back in need of a home, and this time he doesn't hesitate.”) I also got sassy about the ending, because it wasn’t THAT serious. "And then Rose comes back, dirty and footsore but HOME, and he lives his best life with his 3 best girls forever and ever, the end.”

Last night I reread it and suddenly went, "What if I cleaned up the writing and made this a real fic," and now I'm a thousand words deep and it's getting elaborate. Nine is standing in for this doctor’s father (wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey), because he had Rose first. I'm also trying to decide if I should stick with the idea of Martha being a cat because Independence (her dynamic is just so different from how R&D pledged their lifelong devotion to traveling with him, and he treated her differently too), or if making her the only non-dog Others her too much and I should just make her a super-smart and elegant breed. But on the bright side, since Ten is a goddamn neverending tragedy and the original version saw me tack on a "SAD ALTERNATE END" section just to stab myself in the face (“At the end of a series of short-lived fosters there's Wilf, sweet old elderly Wilf who looks like Donna, and is there by his side when the cancer finishes wearing him down, too young by half, at 40"), now he gets a full life and the Companion Farewell Tour becomes a shameless Titanic-style/Rainbow Bridge escort of dogs from days past. ...which ALSO makes me cry, but for better reasons.

(And there at the end of time is Rose, younger than he’s ever seen her, crossing over with him when everything goes dark and light at once.)