#i honestly dont really have any full art of the three i only have sketches of them

[nerime]

I've been having soooooo many warden feelings recently again...

[spookberry]

Your art is absolutely beautiful and amazing! It's also super cute and whenever I see it, I smile.

Anyway, what outfit is Frankie wearing in your half normie au? It's kinda hard to tell in some of your art. (They're wearing a tattered red sweater... I think).

Also! What body type did you give the main ghouls? I noticed Frankie has broader shoulders and draculaura is shorter and softer... Sorry if this is strange to ask. I'm just curious.

aww thank you!

I didn't draw Frankie's outfit in full ever, but ur right their sweater is like stylistically tattered. And they've got split pants. One leg is a solid black and the other is their signature palid. But each side has a patch of fabric that matches the other leg. And I imagine theyre wearing like chunky black platforms of some-type for their shoes

When it comes to body types I dont really know what the names and what not for all that is? I know some people have got pears and apples, but Idk I wouldnt know how to point that out to you my brain just doesnt see the pattern for those terms. I did though find this an interesting question so I went back over and did sketches over some of the designs I did.

And I thought it'd be fun to expand on why I went with the ideas I did

for the first five I did I didn't really put a ton of thought into it? I really just went with my gut. Frankie and Lagoona actually have pretty similar body types, with more "masculine" frames ie wider shoulders, flat chests, and narrower hips. Plus theyre both long limbed and a bit lanky. Theyre both a play on a square. When you look at square shaped characters you tend to view them as "sturdier" whether that be literally or emotionally. For Frankie that's square shape is fake. They aren't a very sturdy person, they're new to everything and always on the verge of tripping over their own feet but they WANT to be sturdy. Meanwhile Lagoona is a very confident person! She's comfortable in her own scales. I also wanted Lagoona to have more of a "swimmer's" body cuz, ya know. She's a fish.

I don't have much to say on the other three. Draculaura's body type was inspired by my own, but it's not exactly like mine either, I'm not as short as her lol. Clawdeen has a fuller figure as well, but she's a very active person so a lot of that is actually just muscle.

Cleo is the most generic of the group lol.

Spectra was the next character I actively tried to design, and for her I kinda leaned into her canon monster high body type. Primarly cuz I really wannted to make her look like a y2k girl with the lowrise boot cut jeans and little ballet flats. fun fact tho! I also really wanted to lean into her being a more sharped edged person with the only exception being her round face, and this is to accentuate the type of character she is! At least, my version of Spectra is meant to be a bit more antagonistic. She does mean things without fully thinking through the consequences of her actions and how they might affect the people around her. She can be pretty self serving. But that's not to say she is unfriendly or that people don't like her.

and here obviously is my most recent line up lol.

Much like Cleo I honestly did not put much of any thought into Ghoulia's actual body type.Her pose I did somewhat though, I wanted her to slouch a bit and look kind of droopy.

For Venus and Rochelle I had opposing strategies for both characters. For Venus I wanted to make her very sharp edged and punk, Just overall I wanted her monster type and personality to really come across. And i like the idea of her being pretty muscle-y actually ngl. Rochelle I tried to go for a more "pear" shaped body? Which with the pose and clothing choice I feel gets lost a bit. I like the idea of her having a very soft and rounded silhouette to contrast the whole... spikey rock monster thing lol.

Abbey being giant and thick just makes sense to me imo, but also I really wanted to lean into rounder shapes to contrast the first impression she usually gives people. That whole Cold, Stoic, and Mean impression people get from her isn't true, in reality Abbey is quite friendly and sweet once you actually get to know her.

[rickriordanfandam]

opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear 

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were  thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing 

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes 

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below) 

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/ 

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture 

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry 

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong. 

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls” trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up.  the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more 

[chat-noir-always-here]

I rewatch Miraculous—Mr. Pigeon

Behold!!! The episode that almost made me stop watching Miraculous.

No for real i think i got up and left the room first time around, this episode was so ridiculous.

• “You only have one day to work on your fashion piece.” Only a day? That seems kinda unrealistic when you take into account designing, gathering materials, whether or not you need to go out and buy any materials, the amount of time it takes to actually put all that together...

•WHOA Gabriel’s actually smiling in that pic Mrs. Bustier shows. Er, smiling-ish

•Pure cinnamon roll child seems proud this peppermint frappucino dickhead is his father (Gabriel ur hair looks like whipped topping and that tie doesnt help). BE GRATEFUL FOR SUCH A CARIBG CHILD YOU PRICK!!!

•Maaaaaariii chill the fuck out your overactive imagination and severe anxiety are getting the better of you.

•AHEM Gabriel has a purple bowtie in Mari’s imagination instead of that ridiculous peppermint scarf he uses to hide Nooroo’s broach???

•Adrien: appears out of nowhere

Marintette: jerks and flops away like a fish on dry land

Me: lol bye Marinette

• Adriens beuatiful face when Mari is talking to him (before she blunders and stumbles with her words) is beautiful

•Mari’s beautiful face when Adrien is telling her “you’re so talented Marinette!” and the subtle tremor in her eyes as they widen with her smile...☺️😊😘i love my beautiful, anxious mess of a daughter

•Mari: Follows Adrien with her eyes like an owl. LMAO.

•Chloe does not deserve Sabrina 😒

•Whereas Gabriel resembles a peppermint frap, Hawk Moth/Papillion appears to be the result of what might happen if Batman and the riddler had a baby

•Ramier, bruh, there is like. Zero. Fucking. Reason to be that upset over not being allowed to feed pigeons. For real. Go feed them on some rooftop somewhere if you must. No reason to let Hawk Daddy akumatize you over it...

...

...

...You know what? We’re not calling Gabriel “daddy.”

EVER. Again.

•Also Hawk-shitface, pigeon dude is your worst idea and you keep coming back to him. Seriously at least put some effort into your champions’ outfits. Youre a fashion designer for petes sake!

• wow this show really loves its skin-tight body suits, huh? Even when they look ridiculous.

•Sabrina how the hell much did you have to pay for a cellphone that lets you zoom in on a fucking sketch from dozens of feet away and score yourself a crystal-clear image???

•Sabrina: “We’re soooo awesome!”

Chloe: “We?”

Chloe does NOT deserve Sabrina.

•Arent real bird feathers full of germs and bacteria that cause diseases? And Marinette “im immune to bird flu” Dupain-Cheng just plucked that shit up off the ground and put it on her hat of all things. I dont know whether to be fisgusted or impressed.

•Chat “paint me like one of your French girls” Noir for the win everybody

• “Im allergic to feathers.” I came across a theory on tumblr once (cant find the OP) that this coulda been caused by Emilie wearing the damaged Peacock broach when she was pregnant with him. If thats true i would be pleased😏

•Allow me to channel Chloe for this comment: LB, CN, that disguise is about as convincing as Mr. Pigeon and Bubbler’s get ups are appealing. In other words, NO.

•Chat Noir moonwalking with a hat on—booiii got some moves. 👌👌👌👌

• “You’re the cat dont you eat [pigeons] for breakfast?!” No LB, Kitty Boi is a domestic kitty otherwise he’d present to you little dead things like my cat used to do before we stopped letting him go out. This is an awful joke but SPARE THE BIRDS, theyre just like Ramier—being controlled by a monster.

• “On the count of three my beloved pigeons will commence fire.” As disgusting as pigeon poop is i think they’ll live. Cant you come up with a better evil plan? Threatening to break the glass floor at their feet by having the pigeons stomp on the cage would be more effective. I’m not trying to help the villain, kaay? I just prefer my villains to use their head. Honestly Team Rocket is more intimidating than Pigeon Dude.

•is it just me or is kitty boi especially adorable in this episode??? 😻😻😻

• flock of pigeons put a dent ten times the size of kitty boi’s head in the door

Okay thats actually kinda terrifying. What woulda happened if that attack hit a normal person wearing no magical armor??? They’d be pecked to bits...

• CN: “I gotta get outta here before my secret identity is revealed!”

LB: “Yeah you wouldnt wanna let the cat out of the bag!”

CN: “...Haha very funny.” 😾

Dont dish out what you cant take, handsome boy.

•LB’s look of amusement as CN starts running in place for fear of detransforming in front of others is hillarious

•kitty boi if this hotel takes tips you should really give Jean-whatshisname one. That was the speediest, life-saving room service ever.

•isnt this just Chloe’s room??? Theres a ladybug pillow on the bed and everything. Why did the mayor send CN to Chloe’s room???

• “i cant wait my dear pigeon.” Hmm reminds of later on when Hawk Moth calls Nats “My dear Mayura.” Bruh if you INTO Ramier just ask for his phone number like a normal person, quit akumatizing him and eat a damn snickers

•LB: Time for a sneak attack! Oh no, my sneak attack failed cuz my partner couldnt help but sneeze with all these FEATHERS around.

HELLO, he just told you he was allergic to feathers???

•ugh them censoring out the punches with flashy screenshots is so LAAAME show me the VIOLENCE.

• “Cat Noir! Grab [the bird call!]” AGAIN he’s ALLERGIC TO FEATHERS. Just tie that yoyo to something to keep Pigeon dude in the air and smash it yourself.

• Gabriel is that teacher from Ned’s Declassified School Survival Guide who was never physically present in class and was only ever seen through a tablet or some nonsense

•Chloe getting busted my Marinette in front of the principal, Gabriel and Adrien is a great example of how PLAGIARISM DOESNT PAY are you listening art thieves lurking on tumblr, instagram and elsewhere???

•ahem Gabriel that sympathetic look you give a weeping Chloe is very out of character

• “youre the winner Marinette.” Not gonna check out Kim and Max’s hat? You could at least look at it, doesnt seem very impartial to pick Mari without looking at ALL the hats

•siiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhh

Girl they are BOTH allergic to feathers. How many blonde teenage boys walk around with a feather allergy? Quantum Masking or no Quantum Masking, c’mon you should be at least considering the idea theyre the same person from that knowledge alone.

Annnd thats all for now. This episode is more of a vent-inducing hate sink than enjoyable, save for the gushing waterfall of cute kitty boi moments it provides. I may do Stormy Weather later today to make up for it.

[oswald-privileges]

Loudmouth

(I wrote some statement fic. It’s been a heck of a while since I wrote anything for fandom.)

Statement of Ulla Ness, regarding, um... a peculiar transformation. Original statement given March 14th, 1999. Audio recording by Christopher Peake, in an… unprofessional capacity. Statement begins.

I still don’t see why I had to come to you. I know you have an email address, so wouldn’t it have been easier to just scan the form and send it to me? Hell, I would have taken a physical copy sent to me in the post. It would have been slower, but it would have meant I could have stayed at home. But no. I asked, and you just gave me a lot of waffle about how you have ‘strict acquisition policies’, alongside directions that had been copied from google maps. Which I know, because I checked.

It’s not that I’m lazy, you understand, far from it. I used to have what I regarded as quite the active social life. But recently that’s become impossible for me to maintain, for a number of reasons. Which are also the reasons that I’ve come to talk to you.

I used to be quite a religious person. Still am, I suppose. I’m not entirely sure. I was a member of the congregation of Saint Mary’s, a small anglican church in a small, anglican village up in Lincolnshire. Not everybody there was particularly devout, but it wasn’t one of those places where it especially mattered. It was more about the sense of community we had. Catching up with each other after communion on Thursdays, singing in the choir, arranging cake sales or coffee mornings as fundraisers for whatever bit of the building had fallen off now. I’ve been attending since I was little, and more or less grew up with the congregation.

I miss it quite badly, if I’m being honest. I’ve always been the sort to need other people, but I didn’t realise quite how much losing them would affect me. You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone and all that, I suppose.

It started with another fundraiser, a jumble sale this time. I had volunteered to help manage the event, so I was in charge of sorting through the items that people had brought in for us to sell. Like I said, not everyone there was strictly devout, and didn’t always take care with what they decided to donate. Some people seemed to use it as more of an excuse to toss legitimate junk in our direction and call it a good deed.

This was definitely the case with Mister Ashley. He attended purely because his mother was too old to walk by herself, and I rather think that she insisted that he stay with her throughout the service. It was definitely at her behest that he took part in any communal activities. She would always announce that he would be happy to run stalls or make tea or some other menial duty, while he sat by her side, stony-faced, and saying nothing at all.

The only time I remember him giving any sort of reaction was when when his mother announced that her Jamie would be happy to donate some of his shop’s excess stock for the jumble sale. I remember, he turned to her with the strangest look on his face. At the time, I thought it was one of badly suppressed outrage. I assumed that she had simply gone a bit too far in volunteering his services; Mister Ashley was a second hand book seller, and owned the Jabberwock Bookshop just off from Memorial Square. It can’t have been all that easy to turn a profit. Thinking back on it now, though, and I wonder if his expression was something sharper than just anger. If it could have been alarmed, almost panicked. But I believe that is likely be nothing more than hindsight colouring my memories. If he had had some way of knowing, had been frightened of something like that which came to pass, then… well. I cannot honestly say I ever truly liked James Ashley, but neither can I believe that he would be as cruel or as cowardly as to not have said or done anything.

As it was, he brought the books to the side room the next day, where I was going through the donations and sorting the sellable items from those things too broken, torn, stained, or just plain unusable. I had just set aside yet another jigsaw- this one with almost two thirds of the pieces obviously missing- when he knocked on the outer door. In spite of the heavy rain, he wasn’t wearing a coat, hat, or boots. He didn’t say a word to me when I opened it, just shouldered his way in, dropped a heavy cardboard box on the floor by the unsorted donations, and walked out again. He did this three more times, leaving the door swinging behind him, letting in strong gusts of wind and rain, and reinscribing a damp trail of rainwater on the carpeted floor. Then he was gone as abruptly as he had arrived.

Ashley had taken better care to protect the books from the rain than himself. The cardboard was soaked through, but the books inside had been wrapped in several layers of plastic sheeting. They were stacked upright, and had been fitted in without any attempt to force too many into a single space. They were all, without exception, worn, faded, and almost completely without interest. Paperback romances long since out of print, old text books, children’s encyclopedias. It was rather a relief, if I’m honest. I could just reach into the boxes, grab a book, give it a flick through, and place it on the “for sale” pile.

I was about halfway through the last box when my fingers brushed something that did not feel at all like paper. It was dense and yielding, and ever so slightly damp. I recoiled, shock and disgust crawling their prickling way up my arm. My fingers looked clean, but the ghost feeling of something sticky still clung to them.

My first thought that it was some nasty practical joke. That Ashley, stung by his mother’s willingness to give away his stock, had put something disgusting in there by way of relieving his feelings. But that would have been ridiculous- he was a grown man, for goodness sakes, not a slighted child. It was more likely that the plastic keeping the books wrapped up had slipped, and allowed the rain to seep in through the sides. That was the more likely explanation.

It seemed as though I was right when I looked into the box properly, and saw nothing there but more books. But when I reached in again, all I felt was rough, dry paper. Confused, I went through the contents more slowly, looking where I placed my hand and at the books I chose.

I didn’t feel it again until the fifth book I picked up, that same almost-damp feeling. It was broad and set in landscape, almost like a sketchbook. It was dense with pages all jammed together- dense and heavy. It flopped bonelessly in my hand, and I needed to support it from underneath before I could read the title.

Hymnal, it read. The gold letters gleamed wetly on the slick cover.

It appeared to be full of sheet music. No titles or lyrics, just scratched staves and notes that meandered up and down the lines as though drunk. The smell that rose from the pages as I turned them was odd and unpleasant. I wondered if the leather binding them hadn’t been properly cured. Those areas of page that weren’t covered in music were full of sketches, but so dense and overlapping that I couldn’t tell what they were supposed to be. And, I realised with an unpleasant start, the cover beneath my hands was warm, as though I was touching a live thing.

Suddenly, I’d had enough. I was sitting here, working myself up over an old, graffitied book for no good reason. I shut the thing hurriedly, and it snapped closed with a heavy slithering of pages. I caught the soft part of my forefinger on one of them, and a tiny bead of scarlet began to well from the wound. The stinging was welcome- it gave me something to focus on, mundane annoyance drowning out the confusion that had been threatening to become fear.

I dropped the book onto the discard pile. I couldn’t sell something like that, that much was obvious. Then I picked it up again, and dashed through the rain to the rubbish bins outside. I tossed it in, and followed it up with as much of the discard pile as I could bag up in one go, burying the thing underneath threadbare scarves, broken plastic dolls, and half used art supplies.

I felt a little better when it was done, but not much. Whatever those hymns were praising, I don’t think it was Our Lord.

The cut on my finger didn’t heal like it should. It stopped bleeding without any trouble, but the edges became raised, reddened and sensitive to the touch. I dabbed at it with antiseptic and did my best to put it out of my mind. I succeeded at first. I had plenty to keep me busy, both at church and at my workplace, and for a day or two, I completely forgot about it.

At least until it opened up again.

I don’t remember what caused it, or if anything caused it at all. Just that I was reaching for something, and there was the feeling of… unpeeling, almost, the cold feeling of fresh air on wet skin. I checked to see if the cut was bleeding again.

Instead of a cut, I found myself looking at a tiny, fully formed mouth.

The raised, reddened edges I had thought were a sign of infection had become minute lips. They were slightly parted, and behind them I could see the tiniest slivers of white. And behind that, a dark space where something wet shifted.

I didn’t look at it for long. Already I was reaching for the first aid kit, hastily covering the cut- the mouth- with a plaster. I was already convincing myself that what I’d just seen was some kind of infection I was too squeamish to look at, and that since I couldn’t feel any pain, I should probably go to the doctors, in case it was nerve damage or something. The impression of having seen a mouth rather than a cut was an unpleasant trick my mind had played on me, and one I didn’t feel like closely examining. I told myself I had imagined it.

I hadn’t, though. I could taste the soft fabric patch on the plaster.

I really did mean to go to the doctors. Mouth or no mouth, whatever was happening to the cut on my finger worried me. I even got as far as making an appointment. But the next day I went into work, and there was an accident involving a slippery patch of floor and a very, very sharp knife that I was carrying at the time. I ended up with a nasty slice parallel with the underside of my ribcage.

This time, it was obvious how quickly it stopped bleeding, how it was practically dry before I even changed the gauze once. How the scabs began to flake before I even touched them, leaving nothing but those raised, reddening edges around the cut itself.

I didn’t go to that doctor’s appointment. I don’t think it would have helped me if I had.

It took longer for the second cut to open, but when it did, I could stand in front of the mirror to properly see the flat, white, human teeth, and the tongue that moved behind them.

It didn’t feel alien. That’s what surprised me most. I was scared, of course I was scared, I was growing new bits, opening up in places that I shouldn’t- but that was just it. It was my body doing this, not some… weird infection or surgery. Whatever was happening, it felt like an extension of myself.

I could move them, I found. Not as consciously as I could my original mouth, the one in its proper position on my face, but sort of like moving a limb after it’s fallen asleep. It took concentration, like I was working through partial numbness. Like I needed to focus to wake them up.

I didn’t spend very long doing that, though. I would realise with a start that what I was doing wasn’t normal, it wasn’t sane. I would pull my shirt back down or re-plaster my finger with a feeling almost like shame. I wasn’t as scared as I should have been, and that in itself was somehow a lot more frightening.

I’m not clumsy. I can’t be, considering the sharp tools I have to handle at work. But I started to accumulate injuries. Innocuous things at first. Paper cuts from the prayer books during mass, scrapes from the edges of the metal benches at work. And then other things. Pushing down a door-handle would lay my palm open as though I’d been struck with a metal ruler. The pressure of my jacket across my shoulders would tear the skin. I woke in bed one morning to discover that the folded sheets around me had left cuts going from my hip to my collar bone.

Every single one of them bled, reddened, and opened.

The mouths started to become restless as their number grew. They tried to chew on the clothes I wore to cover them, and if I didn’t focus, they would let out soft, but audible moans or sighs. I tried to quiet them. I even tried feeding them, though I only did that once. It seemed to help, but the mangled sensation of swallowing with a throat that seemed to be lodged under my right kidney was so disorienting I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.

I hadn’t stopped going out altogether. I left the house less, certainly, but as uncertain and uncomfortable as my changing existence was, I didn’t want to give up the company of other people altogether. I get lonely easily.

So, one Friday, when when there was so little skin left under my clothes and gloves that no new mouths could easily form, I patched my face and neck with gauze, and went to take my place in the choir again.

Nobody really seemed to notice anything different about me. I had all the right stories lined up for when I was asked about what had happened to my face, but almost nobody did. A few condolences, a few jokes, and that was it. People apparently preferred to gossip about the death of Mrs Ashley, and how her James had stopped coming to church now, and how they had known his heart wasn’t in it all along.

It felt awful. There I was, standing in the middle of them, skin to skin almost, with the most fragile disguise imaginable hiding a secret that would ruin their perception of the world for good- and they were too wrapped up in their own smug assurance of their own piety to notice. I offered up a brief prayer for patience, but like all my prayers lately, I don’t think I was offering it to the God whose praises we’d all gathered to sing.

And when we raised our voices together for All Things Bright And Beautiful, and I opened my mouth to join in, and then opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again, and opened my mouth again- I wasn’t singing praises to that God either.

I didn’t realise that the others had stopped at first. It wasn’t until I glanced to one side, and saw Julie Wright staring at me with her powerless mouth open and unmoving, that I realised I was singing in harmony with myself.

I broke off, suddenly embarrassed and frightened by the way that they were all looking at me. There was something like awe in their expressions, but there was something else there too. Something that shuddered and recoiled. I desperately tried to remember the words I’d been singing, if I had gotten them right. I had the horrible sense that I might have subverted something holy.

Adam Bromley was the one to break the silence.

“Well now. You never told us you were getting private training!”

And just like that, the spell was broken. The unexpressed disgust sank back beneath their faces, and the others took up the idea almost with relief. A beautiful voice, they told me, what trick did they teach me to make it resonate like that? I forced a smile and said something non-committal and when we took up the tune again, I was careful to sing only the words that were on the page in front of me.

My own relief was short-lived. When I got home, I found the skin I had left was being pulled apart by the restless movements of the mouths. Blood stained the underside of my shirt, and I couldn’t stop the moans and hissings any more than I could have controlled a spasm or a muscular tic.

I didn’t sleep that night, and called in sick to work the next day. I lay on the bed, and stared up at the ceiling, trying very hard not to move.

It wasn’t any use. My skin had become so fragile that even getting up and walking to the kitchen caused it to split, the blood barely having time to dry before the wound began to twitch and whisper. All my fascination was gone now, as were all my attempts to ignore what was happening. All I did was lie on the bed, and let myself slowly drown in my own body. I lived like that for a week.

When next Friday evening came, my entire body burst into song.

I writhed and moaned and hummed without will, without choice, throwing out snatches of hymn before discarding them as not what I wanted, not right. And for the first time, the indistinct murmurs and whispers grew louder, began to form words. Prayers that had been chewed out of shape, pleas for more, more mouths, more brothers and sisters, to come out of hiding and join the great curdling of flesh.

This went on for the entire night.

That was when I decided that I needed to do something. I’d let… whatever this was go on for too long, long beyond the point of saving myself. But I wanted to tell someone first. So I dragged myself to my computer, and searched as best I could. It’s difficult to type with only a confusion of tongues.

And that’s where you came in. You aren’t special. You were just the closest place that didn’t either ignore my emails, or reply with not so gentle suggestions that I see a psychologist.

I don’t think I’ll be leaving my home again, once I get back. I doubt I’ll even bother uncovering, although there’s no-one there to see me. For all that I wanted to let someone know, I don’t want to be seen.

The cupboard below the stairs locks from the inside. I can push the key out from underneath the crack in the door.

Whatever is happening to me, I won’t allow it come to fruition.

Post-statement follow-up: There wasn’t anyone under the stairs when I went to check. The lock on cupboard door was broken, and so was the one on the back door. Either Ms Ness was, um… successful in her attempts to… halt her transformation, and a housebreaker with some seriously questionable motives took what was- what was left of her. Or she wasn’t. And her resolve either waned or the situation was, um. Taken out of her hands. Or. Whatever she had instead of hands.

I wasn’t… going to record this. It’s not my job, strictly speaking, but I was reading some of the old statements, and this one just… sort of caught my eye. And I’ve seen the Archivist and some of the others do recordings, and it just looked so… I wanted to try it out. I’ll be taking the tape with me, though. None of the others need to know about this.

[acuppellarp]

We’re excited to announce that Leigh has decided to level up Lola Alvarez from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Leigh, she/her Age: 26 Timezone: EST Ships: Lola/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Lola/No Chemistry

IC INFO

Full Name: Louisa Cristina “Lola” Alvarez Face Claim: Lauren Jauregui Age/Birthday: April 11th (Aries mood), 24 Occupation: Model/make-up artist/burlesque dancer/photographer Personality: enigmatic, magnetic, confident, lonely, passionate Hometown: Brooklyn, NY Bio:

[DEATH TW]

Louisa doesn’t talk about her birth parents, simply because there’s nothing to talk about. Her father, she can assume, was never really in the picture, and her mother left her on the stoop of a fire department in the 99th precinct of New York City, so it’s not as if she cared. Louisa rarely thinks about her birth parents, if at all. The truth was, Consuelo Migdas was sixteen when she gave birth to Louisa, and wasn’t ready to have a family. She had hoped that by putting her daughter up for adoption, she’d be put into a good home.

It took twelve years for Louisa to be adopted. Twelve years for the world to show Louisa its cold nature. By the time she turned ten, Louisa had been carted to four different foster homes. Every time it looked like there was a promise of someone wanting to take her home, she ended up being returned like a blouse that didn’t fit quite right. Louisa quickly began losing hope that anybody would keep her for good. She’d be stuck in the foster system until she was eighteen years old, and then she’d become a ward of the state. She’d have to fend for herself in the extremely cruel city of New York.

If you asked her now, she’d tell you that it could have been much worse, but that’s very much in line with Louisa’s character. She’s not dramatic in that way. She’ll downplay anything to make you think she hasn’t suffered, she’s perfectly fine. But truthfully? Not having the unconditional love of a family had more of an impact on her than she’d ever care to admit. Louisa was awful in school– on the days she came in and wasn’t starving, she found that it was tough for her to concentrate. Numbers and words didn’t make sense. Once, as a Christmas gift, she was given a book from one of her teachers: Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott. Louisa loved that they had the same name, and she loved the idea of growing up with four sisters who loved her and a mother who would do anything for her. All she wanted was a stable, consistent life.

Louisa found that she loved art from the very beginning, and would lose herself in drawings. She loved to play dress up.  She liked to take things, too. It started small, like a pack of gum or a candy bar. Nobody was any the wiser, and Louisa would never steal from the same place twice. She would steal art supplies from her school and only got caught once. Crying, she explained to her teacher that she only wanted to be able to draw at home. Three days later, she was gifted a beautiful set of over a hundred colored pencils. Every hue and shade Louisa could possibly imagine was in that set. She saved the nubs of those pencils and strung them together to make a necklace. It serves as a reminder for her– how far she’s come, and how much farther she has to go.

Things changed rapidly for the better when Mimi adopted her. At least, that’s how she introduced herself to Louisa: “I’m going to be your Mimi and we’re going to be very happy together.” It took Louisa a solid three months to believe her. If she could last longer than three months, that would be all. But Mimi showed her a home that was full of love, and a place where she was accepted. She had dinner every night, she had a quiet, cozy place to read her favorite book, and Mimi made sure she did all of her homework instead of roaming the streets.

It was when she was thirteen that she started going by Lola, if only because that’s what Mimi called her. When she asked why, Mimi would start singing the song from Damn Yankees– whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. And honestly, Lola wasn’t used to being spoiled. She wasn’t used to someone loving her. She wasn’t used to a real home.

When she applied to FIT, she put the design on the side and instead chose to focus on the modeling aspect. She got her degree, fine, but found herself loving the idea of being someone’s muse. Someone’s obsession. Someone’s love. Lola began to become heavily involved in making her own clothing, with the sewing machine that had been passed down from Mimi’s dressmaking mother right into Lola’s greedy little hands. It cost them a fortune to send her to college, but Mimi swore Lola was going to be on the cover every fashion magazine someday. Lola assured Mimi that she was too short, and focused on building a following via social media, something that she keeps up with today.

Lola’s life couldn’t be without one more tragedy, though. Mimi was cleaning the floor of their apartment in Brooklyn when she slipped on a puddle and hit her head. The injury resulted in dementia-like symptoms, not uncommon in Mimi’s age. After calling emergency services, Lola was told that there was nothing more that the doctors could do. Mimi was transferred to a care facility in Queens, and Lola visits her as faithfully as she can. Mimi is lucid sometimes, but often has no idea who Lola is other than the nice girl who visits her and sketches her.

Mimi’s current state has broken Lola’s heart. She’s picked up a few random jobs trying to make some extra cash– including dancing at a burlesque club (she insists it’s for the glamor of it all, but it’s mostly because she likes the attention), modeling for a series of painting classes (again, Lola likes attention), and working as a make-up artist. All the money she makes goes to pay for Mimi’s care, and to keep her room full of fresh flowers. Lola feels lost, understandably so, which is why she’s been so happy to join April’s Growers. It’s given her a new sense of purpose, even if sometimes she’s still kind of sad. Lola is doing the best that she can to juggle her odd jobs, her newfound roommates, her beloved mother, and pursuing what she loves.

Pets:  Lola recently rescued a French bulldog puppy named Donatella, who she loves more than life itself. Relationships:

[WANTED CONNECTIONS: Roommate for Nicola & Kitty, April’s Grower]

Santana Lopez

All things considered, they should be rivals– they’re both Latinas who can sing, they’re both drop dead gorgeous, and they usually go for the same modeling gigs– but Lola and Santana have somehow managed to become friends. It also doesn’t hurt that they’re now prone to admire each other’s beauty as often as they can in someone’s bedroom.

Reggie Clifton

Ah, how does Lola even begin to describe Reggie Clifton? They met at a rally in the city more than a year ago, which is only too fitting for the both of them.  Lola fell for Reggie and she fell very hard. They flirted, they messed around a lot, and when they admitted that they had feelings for each other, it was peppered with the worst thing Lola’s ever heard: I like you, but I don’t want to be in a relationship with you. Reggie, apparently, wasn’t ready, and Lola took her broken heart all the way back to Brooklyn and away from Acup. She’s come back around, though, and Lola is wasting no time in showing Reggie what she passed up.

X Scott

X and Lola have a really beautiful relationship, based on a mutual love of art. Lola has become something of a muse to X, and she’s always willing to pose for a photo or painting. They’re very much kindred spirits and Lola would go to the ends of the earth for X.

Nicola De Rocha & Kitty Wilde

Her roommates, but also her best friends. She’s only moved in with them recently, after Mimi’s death. Her Brooklyn home got to be too quiet, and Lola loves their chatter. Lola thinks of them as three larger-than-life personalities who could gossip until the sun comes up. She’s not so subtly hinting to Kitty that she wants to shoot at Vogue, and always dropping her wishlist to Nicola. She loves her roommates and would do anything for them.

EXTRA INFO

lola/lolalvarez/description: some women fear the fire. some women simply become it.

Five latest tweets:

@lolalvarez: @PamelaLansbury if y'all decide that the internal dating becomes to be too much and you need a new member, my door is open #justsaying @lolalvarez: I posted a makeup tutorial from my latest photoshoot on Instagram, please continue to @ me and tell me how pretty I am. @lolalvarez: DO YOU WANT TO SEE A PICTURE OF MY DOG? @donatellanotversace @lolalvarez: I could go to Central Park, or I could binge ANTM. Or, I could order Insomnia cookies #3amthoughtswithLola @lolalvarez: @nicoladerocha @awildecard Tell me I’m pretty.

[shadowdragonsheart]

Okay guys...

Things have been getting really tough at home, and I just really need some help right now. I am not one to do commissions or anything but right now, i’m a bit in a pinch.

I’m a 21 year old college student and artist, struggling financially, and my mother, sister, and I really need some help right now, as my dad has put us into a ridiculous financial bind by his own selfish reasons, and we’re not gonna have ANY income really soon, and we are now in debt because of his decisions. He is a very toxic man (he is a strong supporter of trump, let that give you some insight on how he is as a person), and my mom stays because she has no money to leave, and religious obligation to stay. But I have decided to come out of my shy shell so I can finally do something about this.

I am opening art and fanfic commissions.

Digital art:

It is taking a lot for me to come out and post my work because I am terribly self-conscious of it, anywho, pricing is:

Sketch: 5$

Clean Lineart: 12$

Simple, Cell shading: 18$ (see Sans, and the little dragon icon)

More Complex, soft shading, depending on detail: 25-35$ (everything else lmao)

+1 person/character: 5$

I am not so confident with backgrounds however, but if you insist, 5$ will get me to comply hahah ^^;

Traditional Art:

I tend to doodle on paper more often than digital, but I don’t often go full out on my pictures with coloring and such. Pricing is as follows:

Sketch/sketch page: 3-5$ (top right)

Clean Lineart: 8-10$ (similar to bottom two, but cleaner ^^;)

Simple shading: 12-15$ (middle, and top left)

Full color: 20-35 (see this image)

+1 person/character: 5$, unless its a sketch/sketchpage, that will be 2$ each.

same here on the background thing, 5$

Fluctuations are based on the usage of Tan paper, (5.5 in x 8.5 in/ 14 cm x 21.6cm. 80lb paper, just black/grey inks look gorgeous, along with color pencil as well) and and Cream/white paper ( 9 in x 12 in/ 22.9 cm x 30.5cm. 60 pound paper. Colors are more vibrant, however markers bleed heavily.)

I can send you a scan, at no charge, or do 2$ shipping, USA only for right now please)

With both digital and traditional art! 

I cannot do NSFW, though I can do things that may be hinting at it, but no hardcore porn please, sorry. I can do people, and as you can clearly see, I have been drawing a lot of Undertale lately, so thats about where I am right now. I may feel uncomfortable with certain things, and I may refuse, but we may be able to find a middle ground, just ask!

If you want your art to be exclusive, and to not be posted anywhere, we can do that, for 5$. Just think, a piece of art, just for you, and only you! (But please, this does not mean that you can post it as your own. If you want it public, I will pay you back 3$ and I will post it, and you can reblog to your heart’s content!)

For more of an insight on what I can do, You can see my art tag here, but i actually dont post here that often. so check out my instagram for other pieces of mine.

!!!Only three open spots for now. depending on complexity!!!

Fanfictions

It has been a little while since i’ve done fanfics, but I know that there is always someone who wants to see a little more of the characters they love. You can read through some of my work here. So far the only fandom I had written for at the time was DRAMAtical Murder, mostly nsfw stuff, so take caution. I do have an Ao3, however I have uploaded only one of my works on there, “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” 

I am willing to write anything, with anyone, be it NSFW, or whatever. However, there is a limit as to what I can do, and if I feel uncomfortable with a topic, I will refuse, but that does not mean I won’t find a middle ground with you. Just ask me. 

All ships are welcome, it doesn’t even have to be shippy, it can be something goofy, or a crack fic, just shoot me an idea, and we can work something out. I am a part of a lot of different fandoms, but I don’t know them all, so i apologize if I am unfamiliar with the characters, I will not feel comfortable writing the story. 

Now to the pricing!

It’s simple.

1$ per 100 words. 

So, 5$ for 500 words, 15$ for 1.5k words, and so on.  

If you want your story to be completely exclusive, only to you, and not posted online, anywhere, that would be an extra 5$. A personalized, single copy of a fic that no one will read but you! (However this does not mean you have permission to post it anywhere as your own. please be considerate of this. Same rules apply as the art if you want it public.)

I am open to as many of these as I can handle. I will let you know if I cannot accept any more

Final words:

I honestly would appreciate it if you could share this post if you can’t do a commission at this time, don’t worry, I totally understand, trust me. If you don’t want any of my art or works, I understand! it totally may not be your thing, and it’s totally fine :) if you want, you can just show a little love by buying me a cup of coffee, so I can stay sane a little longer.

Please message me if you have any questions, concerns,or would like to help! Thank you so much for your time, friends 💕