#first art post spare me please algorithm

[azzytheeggy]

very despicable things

gonna start posting on Tumblr cause I'm not feeding Meta shit on Instagram

[the8thsphynx]

We always see River and Roman, and don't get me wrong, I love them down to their bits and pieces!! But you've said in twitter polls that River and Scheherazade have some sort of relationship but those two never really win the polls we don't get to see them (unless I missed something of course). But I'd like to hear the bases of their relationship or anything you'd like to share about them!!

Hey, no worries!!

While Twitter gives me the option of posting polls to determine drawing pieces, it's honestly a very hard place for me to actually give info about my ships and writing (bc their algorithm is hell). But!! Thank you for this ask!! I prefer Tumblr since people can actually come onto my posts and ask for info and I can give an actual response.

Also I absolutely am happy to have any and all excuses to post Scheherazade/River content!

(two art pieces and some expo down below)

How River and Scheherazade first meet is the same as it is in FGO's story, but in my AU Agartha goes very differently. I'll spare the details and plot and just stick with Schez and River for this though!

These two have a 'birds of a feather' situation going on that neither of them realize.

Despite Schez being so skittish around Chaldea and Team W (River, Fakkir, Brier...), she finds herself able to talk with River and likewise River notices her uneasiness and spends the whole Singularity trying to help her feel more open. River's still very heartbroken about Romani, though, so he remains a bit closed off and quiet.

After the events of Agartha, when Scheherazade is certain she'll just fade away and go back to the Throne to wait and be summoned somewhere again, River consoles her and offers her a home for as long as she wants in Chaldea; she'll never be expected or asked to fight or put herself in harm's way.

She cautiously accepts, and when she gets to Chaldea Scheherazade makes herself home in the library. As time goes her and River form a friendship, although there's definitely something else there...

...Anyways! Sorry for rambling, but yes!! I love this ship.

Actually how this ship started for me was years ago when my friend Leviathan would write their Scheherazade with me, and we both found out what good chemistry they actually have!

Please give my friend Levi a follow, they're seriously a talented writer and they've been the backbone of my outfit designs for Schez.

[reimenaashelyee]

2019 Plans: My Own Internet Island

Mood of the times is thinking about setting up my own quiet, private community native to my website (reimenayee.com), accessible through RSS, monthly newsletter updates, or going to the site itself. Kinda done with platforms at this point? The algorithms, non-chronological timelines, virality, ad-focused self-destruction, sleazy data collection... No more. I’m gonna sail off and build my own lil island in 2019.

If you want to join me on this island, here’s where we can get started:

Twitter (https://twitter.com/reimenayee): my main rambling place and social media. I update the most here and post a lot of misc things, including my WIPs, sketches and graphic novel updates.

Tinyletter: I’ve TWO newsletters. (https://tinyletter.com/reimena) is my personal, monthly artist newsletter. Direct communication from me to your inbox about my life as an artist and what I read in my spare time. (https://tinyletter.com/reimenayee) is my professional newsletter that updates only occasionally about my comics-related projects. You can follow both, since they are wildly different facets of myself.

Portfolio: reimenayee.com is where all the action is happening in 2019. I’m going to expand the portfolio to include extra, fun things. I miss the experience back in the old web of stumbling upon someone’s website and exploring it, lurking and reading about what they are in to. I want my website to be like that, so it will.

While I’m still going to be active on Tumblr, I’m going to move the contents of this blog to Wordpress. This Tumblr will still exist. It will still post art. Just that I’m tired of feeling the sense of losing control being on socmedia platforms and their changing, destructive wiles.

PLEASE JOIN ME IN MY LITTLE ISLAND!! I’d love to have you there. Start with the newsletter first. <33

[sixth-light]

Post-LS prompt #2

Note: I’m doing these in the order I am inspired, length is going to vary based on inspiration. Similar prompts will be combined. This is not the one I mentioned last night, sorry - that’s getting, er, longer. 

Post-Lies Sleeping, Team Folly, gen, for @empressfortuna [prompt is entirely spoilery]

Prompt: Foxglove discovers Bob Ross videos on Youtube.

I was welcomed back to the Folly post-suspension with riotous applause (only from Toby, really, but even Molly did seem well pleased) to discover that in my absence, someone had introduced Foxglove to modern technology . She’d even found YouTube.

This had me concerned at first because these days you can’t watch two movie trailers on that site without an algorithm asking you if you want to hear some wanker ranting about how women and everybody who doesn’t burn the minute they set foot outside are ruining everything. Setting Foxglove loose on the internet seemed a bit like setting a toddler loose unsupervised. Not because I thought of Foxglove as a child, seeing as how she was old enough to be my great-grandmother, but because I wanted her to have a chance to experience some of the better things about the outside world before she had to learn about neo-Nazis.

As it turned out, she was mostly using it to watch art videos, so I needn’t have worried. She was particularly fascinated by Bob Ross, to the extent that, one Sunday afternoon, she somehow talked – gestured? – me and Molly and Abigail and Nightingale into painting along with her and Bob.

Molly took it in with a tiny frown of concentration. Her brushstrokes were an exact mirror of the ones on the screen – like, terrifyingly so. Foxglove knew what she was about and so her painting was more an interpretation, but a really really good one. Nightingale took some time to relax into it, but seemed to be enjoying himself. My painting was – well, there were recognisable shapes in it, but that was mostly thanks to my instructors. As I once told Foxglove, I’m life-changingly terrible at art.

As it turns out, though, I’m not nearly as terrible as Abigail, who started making loud noises about how this didn’t seem very useful about fifteen minutes in. Her canvas told me why. This was not nearly as effective as she would have liked. As her teachers, we held firm, and I think she started to like it by the end.

Beverley showed up to pick me up just as we were finishing; she’d been visiting with her Mum so she’d dropped me off.

“Why do you smell like paint?” she asked, lifting up my hand to sniff at it dubiously. So I explained.

“Do it in the tech cave next time and I’ll come along,” she suggested. I said I didn’t think we’d be doing it again. I was absolutely wrong.

“It’s good for us all to do something relaxing together,” Nightingale said. “And Foxglove clearly enjoys it so much.”

“Can’t we get her teaching night classes instead?” I complained, more fool me, but that took another couple of years to happen.

So Beverley got to have fun with paints along with the rest of us, and Abigail learned to enjoy something she didn’t find it easy to be good at, and Nightingale added another skill to his Renaissance Man arsenal, and after a while it turned out that maybe I wasn’t quite as art-impaired as I’d thought. Which I was glad to learn now and not, say, age twenty, when it would have made me brood about roads not taken.

The only real complaint came from Seawoll, who found us all in the atrium (for the light, Foxglove had explained) one Sunday afternoon.

“What the fuck is this?” he wanted to know.

“I’m sure Foxglove can find you a spare canvas,” Nightingale said, with a gleam in his eye. Seawoll made a lot of loud noises about how ridiculous this place was, and how he’d only come in to pick up a file, and what was this anyway, an art school?

He still took his painting home with him in the end. Foxglove was so pleased.

[tagsecretsanta]

From Such-a-randon-rambler

to @lightning1999​

I do not own this piece of art/fiction. @such-a-random-ramber  is the original creator and has agreed to this being posted on this blog for Secret Santa 2017. 

As usual, when they were in the midst of a situation, up against the clock, stakes high, it was John who was coordinating.

"Thunderbird One, what's your status?" He called out.

"I'm almost done John, 30 seconds maximum." Came Scott's reply, calm under pressure as always.

"Great, Thunderbird 3?" He made sure everyone could hear – it would be crucial that everyone knew what was going on, they didn't have much time.

"I'm trying John, but this is really tricky." Alan's voice was muffled, legs only visible sticking out the tight space he was trying to maneuver in.

"Keep at it Alan, we're relying on you for this – you're the only one small enough to fit." John bolstered the youngest Tracy, trying to hide his worry. If Alan couldn't manage this, if he took too long..... well it didn't bear thinking about.

"Will do." Alan had picked up on none of John's concern and remained chipper and determined, focused on his task. Alan could always be relied upon to keep at it: it seldom entered his head that they might ever be unsuccessful, now least of all.

"Thunderbird Shadow, I need an update from you."

"Starting the last sweep now." Kayo was steady and efficient, she was very seldom phased by anything.

"Brains, how are you doing?" John turned his attention to the engineer.

"My algorithm is ready to go John." Brains sounded confident, as well he should. What they needed from him was a walk in the park really, but it was vital.

"Grandma, are you ready?" Everyone had a part to play here.

"Don't worry about me, just focus on the job in front of you." Wise words indeed.

"Thunderbird Four, are..... Gordon, where are you? We need you in place!" The first cracks of panic were starting to show in John's voice when he couldn't immediately locate their aquanaut.

But there was no need to worry –  as Gordon quickly replied "Relax, John, sheesh! I'm ready, I'm here. I'm just waiting for Virgil to get on with it."

"Thunderbird Two?" The last piece in the puzzle.

"Nearly done, this is heavier than it looks." Virgils' voice was strained from effort and concentration.

"Do you need some equipment, something from the pods maybe?" John began thinking of contingency plans and alternative strategies. They didn't have time for any more delays.

"No, what I need is for you to pipe down for a minute 5. I just need to adjust my grip, and...... got it! Give me 30 seconds."

The next half minute passed in tense silence, no-one daring to speak while Virgil was doing the careful bit of maneuvering that their hope rested on.

At last Virgil was able to give the all clear: "I'm in position."

John looked around the room, making eye contact with each person there, all of them ready to play their part. "Operation lights out is go! Now Virgil's got the table out the way, Gordon, get those blankets and cushions on the floor. We want it nice and comfy. Scott, stand by with the popcorn. Kayo, when you are done clearing up the mess Scott made in the kitchen please help Grandma get settled. Alan have you got the lights plugged in yet?"

There was a rush of movement, the plan falling into place. Gordon arranged the bedding on the floor where the coffee table had been just minutes before. Now the circle of sofas formed a secure nest - this room was halfway to a tent fort at the best of times so it didn't take too long to finish the conversion. They didn't need the warmth  of the blankets  and pillows here of course, but it was part of the tradition. And it was very comfortable. The family piled in, Grandma at the centre. Scott made sure that the snacks and drinks were evenly distributed so everyone had something within reach.

"Got it!" Came Alan's triumphant cry, wiggling out from under the Christmas tree where he had been trying plug in the lights, and joined the others on the floor.

They were going to make it after all! This had been a tradition since any of the Tracy brothers could remember, started by their mom when Scott was born, and they carried it on though she was long gone. Perhaps because she was gone.

The first part was the food, everyone's favourite snacks and drinks and lots of them. It was important to have a cosy nest on the floor, and the main room on the island was perfect for this, the couches marking the boundary between them and the outside world.

It was vital, absolutely vital that this was done on Christmas eve, and had to be ready before the calendar turned to Christmas day. They had nearly missed it this year due to a rescue, but they had made it with minutes to spare. They wouldn't have made it in time if it hadn't been for EOS, as her bit usually took ages and often resulted in squabbles and cross words.

"EOS run programme lights out please." John called out when everyone in place. In years past they had to spend hours covering lights with bits of tape. They always missed some, and someone would be dispatched at the last minute to cover up the dreadful intrusion.  They would then have to spend even more hours peeling the tape off again afterwards. But now EOS had imbedded herself in their lives and systems she spun herself into every bit of technology on the island so she turned off the lights. Every status light, display, blinking LED was turned off. Anything that emitted even a glow was off - from the microwave to the launch lights. Everything still worked and EOS was monitoring – just in case – but now the room was dark.

The eight people in the room stopped their shuffling in the absolute darkness. Stillness spread from them into the room and beyond. There were now no lights on Tracy island, not in that room, not in the launch bays. There was nothing lighting paths, nothing on the docks. Due to their position in the middle of the island there was no light for hundreds of miles.

No artificial light anyway, for a wash of starlight gently illuminated the family as they sat close to one another in a way that they don't often get a chance to. The nature of their work meant there were seldom days when they were all together, but they had all gone to extraordinary efforts to have these hours together. Thanks to some improvements to Thunderbird 5 and with EOS's help even John could be there.

With the lights out it seemed that the background sounds of the island were louder: the wind susurrating through the trees, the call and chirrup of crickets. And fainter, but still there, the rustle of wave on shoreline that surrounded the island – gave them isolation and safety.