#i will put in arts that are rendered better i promise

[millenianthemums]

chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

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FIRST

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

-

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she’d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

[ffxiv-roiss-workshop]

Cooking Lala compilation!

He also does annual barbeques for the workshop.

(ft. (HW) Alphinaud and Tataru)

Bonus Thorund:

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[artyandink]

necessary precautions

Summary: You and Dean hadn’t really gotten to this stage before. You were partners in hunting, not in that way. But when you’re trying to plant a bug and camera in a room at a gala, you realise that you have a lot more underlying chemistry than you thought possible. Even though it’s an act. Even if you both think you’re not good enough for each other.

A/N - Yet another drabble (promise I’ll get to the fics guys, I just have too much creative juice where this is concerned)

You were having a hard time keeping your head. Especially when Dean’s fingers were pressing into your waist like that.

You two stumbled through the door, you first and Dean after as his hands regretfully left you to let his blazer drop to the floor with a soft thud, the sound of your lips connecting over and over again the only sound outside of your hot breaths mingling in the small gap between your lips. And that problem was quickly resolved by them melding together again, soft and pliable to each other’s whims.

Fast, hard, but oh, so sensual with the way his hands traced your form like he was sculpting some damn fine art.

“God, baby,” Dean murmured, his tie next to go as you both struggled to keep a grip on reality. Dean found himself hooked, hooked on the feel of your plush lips on his after all this time. All this time of waking up in a sweat to the dream of your lips all over him, on his neck, chest, abs- from your position straddling him, grinding long and slow. Open-mouthed and yours.

Line and sinker when he finally registered the intoxicating flavour of morning coffee, beer, and whiskey (a woman after his own heart), and then he was hit with the dizzying aroma of your floral perfume, mixed with the smell of the bakery you got his pie from and topped off with the hit of sweet, sweet pheromones- lord help him.

You couldn’t get enough of his calloused hands on your body, feeling up every inch, over your waist, pushing and pulling your hips in a way that had you almost letting out a real moan, tangling in your hair and pulling so he could deepen the kiss, which made the moan fall past anyway and had his eyebrows raised slightly at how convincing that was.

He had you two stumbling further into the spacious room, eyes open and quickly scanning until he tugged on your hair twice, a signal that the room was clear that allowed you to pull back and try and scan the room for a good place to put the bug and camera that you had on your person. He mouthed at your neck, the hint of teeth and tongue nearly having your knees shaking and giving way under you had it not been for your (quickly wavering) focus.

Ok, so… there’s a bed, but not too central. His lips finding that spot on your neck with such precision it had you whimpering. A couple chairs strewn here and there. His hands disappearing under your blouse to map out every little freckle on your back, pulling the band of your bra and snapping it against your heated skin. A big-ass table in the centre of the room. His lips finding your pulse and teasingly sucking.

Wait- a big-ass table. In the centre… of the… room…

You found the cold surface of the table prick at the back of your thighs, finding that Dean had already got you there and had lifted you up, rucking up that pencil skirt.

God, that tight little skirt drove him up the wall. And he was climbing higher up it.

“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” He murmured at his position of attacking - for lack of a better word - your neck, his hand massaging at your left knee, moving steadily up, rolling the softness between his skilled fingers, inching to where you were aching for him. To where you were waiting for him.

Until his hand stopped, withdrew from its position tantalisingly close to your panties and quickly planted the bug and camera. That he got from the thigh holster strapped to you, from underneath your skirt, which he then pulled down to protect your modesty.

Even if that lace was rendering him insane.

Your breaths were both laboured, no words exchanged as your eyes stared into his own mossy ones and his back at yours, his swollen, slightly reddened lips parted and craving yours. His hand gripping your hair again, nose bumping yours and ready to taste you on his tongue-

The door burst open, snapping you out of your session, with a singular shifter walking in, one who knew you both as the FBI agents from earlier. How did you know? The building you were in belonged to a shifter mafia, who were holding a charity gala of all things this very night. You and Dean had just finished questioning and needed to put a bug and camera in their main room so Sam - who was now waiting in Baby - could keep an eye on what was being said and done.

You forgot that detail when Dean’s hand had slid over your ass to grip your thigh, strong, firm and possessive. And it was buried in the back of your head when you tasted apple pie, whiskey and burger grease on his tongue; smelt old leather, cologne and his body wash.

So now you had to improvise, putting a hand on your chest, gasping and giggling in embarrassment while Dean turned his body, sliding a firm arm around your waist, like he was stating that you were his. God, you wished you were. “Oh! Sorry, we thought this room wasn’t, y’know, occupado. Just needed to have some privacy, right, babe?” You turned to Dean expectantly, who chuckled and turned to the shifter with a lick of his lips and a grin.

“Just snuck away for a moment.” He smirked, inclining his head to you as his hand inched slowly downward. “Couldn’t keep my hands off this one. Especially when she’s wearin’ that pretty, little skirt.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp slap to your ass, which surprised you, but you covered it up to a swat of his dress-shirt covered chest (that was way too taut on him to be legal) with a laugh.

“Stop that, you’ll get me going again.” You found acting Dean’s hormonal girlfriend was easier than expected, considering the odds of the alarm being sounded that you weren’t really there to get down and dirty. You faced the shifter with a real forced love-sick grin, biting your lip briefly.

And Dean’s eyes totally weren’t on your plump, pink bottom lip and wishing it was his teeth worrying it like that.

“Can’t keep my hands off this one. Hard to when you have a man that’s so handsome, firm and… forbidden.” As a spot of payback, you slapped Dean’s ass in return, which had him jolting slightly, eyes darting everywhere before looking to his feet and smiling to himself with a pump of his eyebrows. Was it bad to think that was hot?

What?! He liked his women possessive. Or more so he liked you possessive, but he’d never say that. He’d die again before he did.

Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Anyway, we’d appreciate if you kept this on the DL, away from our associate, Agent Pierce. Tall, with the hair.” He gestured up to his head, referencing Sammy’s gorgeous hair. “He’s a real prude.”

You faux-scoffed in agreement, internally apologising to Sam. Dean wasn’t. “Oh, yeah, that guy. He’s a real suck up to the big boys back in DC.”

“A grass to the brass.”

“Puts the tittle with the tattle.”

“Can’t keep his mouth good and shut.”

“Snitches get stitches, am I right? You know the type.” You waved the shifter off with a small, rich laugh. “And I’d like to keep my job, see this hunk lookin’ all delicious in a suit.” You gently tapped Dean’s chest, then you realised that you had to get out of there before things got overly hormonal and suspicious.

“You’re the one who’s lookin’ goddamn edible, doll.” Dean drawled, nuzzling your neck with his nose, his acting skills surprisingly good. You kept on having to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. Disappointingly.

“Anyway, well, we have to head out before Agent Pierce gets suspicious.” You hopped off the table, picking up Dean’s blazer and tie, having him hold it while you did his tie up like a good fake girlfriend. “There we go, hon.”

“Always making sure I look good, baby.” He kissed your cheek quickly, and as you strutted out in those goddamn heels with a wink back to Dean, your hair messy, cheeks flushed, hips swaying and lipstick smeared, he let his eyes roam over your ass framed in that skirt with a lick of his lips, seeing the shifter guy doing the same- wait, what?!

Now, that was downright unacceptable. Only Dean got to check out your ass. Wait, that came out wrong. You weren’t even his.

Though he wished you’d be. Then he’d get to kiss those lips like that and actually breach second base.

“Quite a girl you got there, Agent.” The shifter guy smirked, looking at Dean with an impressed nod. “Fiery.”

Dean chuckled, nodding and stepping closer. “Yeah.” He bent so his mouth was right by the monster’s ear, even though he was itching to get out his silver knife and finish the job, talking in a rough tone that made the shifter forget he was a monster. “Look at her like that again and I’ll break your face.”

I appreciate feedback so much, guys!

Taglist: @hobby27 @k-slla

[ddejavvu]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can we get reader being harassed by some guy in an alleyway and hotch is walking by with the team (perhaps going to get drinks after wrapping up a case) AND HE LIKE STEPS IN AND THREATENS THE GUY?? MAYBE EVEN FLASHES HIS BADGE OR SM. Basically I'm thirsty for some protective!hotch <3

You're reminded of how unpredictable life can be when you're yanked backwards unexpectedly, tugged into the darkness of a shadowed alley between two buildings. Five seconds before you'd been thinking about dinner, and now you're not sure you'll live to see another meal.

"Cash," The man grunts, his mouth pressed to your ear as his arm cuts tight around your neck, "I need cash."

"My- my bag," You whimper, frozen stiff in fear and rendered useless, "I- I don't have much, but you- you can take it."

He throws you forwards, ripping your bag off of your shoulder in one fluid motion. He rifles through it while you relearn the art of breathing, but before he can pull your measly collection of bills from the inside pocket of your wallet, there's a gun over your shoulder pointed at his head.

For a moment, you're so dazed that you honestly think you might be holding it. But you don't have a gun, and your wrist doesn't have the dark, wiry hair on it that you see beneath a grey sleeve of whoever's got the weapon.

"Drop the purse, and the knife." A voice booms through the alleyway, deep and firm. If it was directed at you, you'd spook like a horse, and your assailant looks properly terrified.

"It's just a little cash, man," Your attacker tries, "I- I know her! She's my girlfriend."

Your savior knows he's lying before you shake your head vigorously, but you do it anyways, because sitting there and doing nothing feels wrong.

"You've already assaulted someone in front of a federal agent, don't make it worse for yourself by lying about it, too. You're lucky I don't have my cuffs with me or I'd haul you into the back of my SUV and take you down to the station right now. Instead, you're going to drop the purse, and the weapon, and run as fast as you can, because the more time you sit there and let me look at you, the better my chances are of describing you to a sketch artist and placing a warrant out for your arrest."

By the middle of the man's speech, your attacker is trembling just as much as you are. He drops your bag and his knife on command, barely avoiding tripping over the edge of the gutter drain as he flees the scene.

As soon as the gun isn't necessary anymore, the man behind you stashes it in a holster, but you can't see, your back feels permanently adhered to the wall you'd backed up against.

"You're okay," The man assures you, and his voice is much more soothing at a softer tone. He bends to gather your purse, tucking a tube of chapstick back into its confines before holding it out as a peace offering to you.

"He's gone," He promises, ducking down where your eyes are stuck to peer worriedly at you. He has a handsome face, but it's pinched in concern, big brown eyes dripping with care, "And I will put that warrant out for his arrest. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No," You breathe, still pressed to the wall even as you shake your head, "No, he- Thank you, I- I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I usually show up to these things a little late," He grimaces, dropping your purse back down to his side and holding out an empty hand instead, "Can I help you get where you were going?"

"Home." You mutter, "I was- I was going home. After work."

"I can drive you there, if you'd like." He offers, pleased when you reach out with a shaky hand to take his own, "Or we can walk, whichever you prefer. I just want to make sure nothing else happens."

"Um, I- I can pay for a ride. Here," You take your purse back, tugging a bill out that you're lucky to still possess, "If- it's just down the street, if you really don't mind."

"Keep it," He pushes your hand back towards your purse, "I just stopped a guy from taking your money, I'm not gonna do the same. My car's right outside, okay? Let me help you there. And- uh," He rifles through his jacket, "I wasn't lying about being an agent." He showcases a black-covered badge, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner written in bold lettering beneath his name, "You'll be safe with me."

"Okay," You nod, accepting the hand that he holds your arm with to ease you off of the wall and onto your shaky legs, "Uh, thank you, Agent- Hotchner."

"No need." He murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure there's no sign of your assailant, "Let's just get you home safe, honey."

[toadslug]

I FINISHED IT!! Here are my silly opinions for the silly dragon series 🥰 Character names, explanations, and template below the cut:

★ Favorite character: Clay

Clay has been my favorite character since I read his book!! I think his character goes a lot deeper than how some of the fandom treats him (his character arc is amazing), and he's also just a really nice guy.

★ Liked by everyone but me: Queen Ruby

I have no idea why I don't like her 😭 I think the way she treated Peril just kind of pissed me off when I was a kid, and I've never been able to shake the grudge. It's not her, it's me. I almost put Bumblebee here instead (I can't fault her for acting her age, but her screaming can get tiresome).

★ Didn't like at first: Fatespeaker

I considered putting Glory here, but I only started to hate her when that was the popular thing to do (I'm back to liking her now). I immediately didn't like Fatespeaker... Probably because I was rooting for Sunny x Starflight at the time 😬 I PROMISE I'm not like that anymore omg, I was, like, nine. I've come to value Fatespeaker a lot more; her character is surprisingly interesting to pick apart.

★ Would like to know more about: Hailstorm

There's so many characters I want to know more about!! Gill!! Tau!! Riptide!! Moray!! Osprey!! Sora!! Literally any MudWing character!!! But I went with Hailstorm. I adore the cool, supportive big brother energy he radiates, and seeing him trying to fit back into IceWing society (and maybe go through a teensy identity crisis) would be interesting.

★ Least favorite character: Sky

Honestly, I don't really have a least favorite character...? There's Whirlpool, of course, but that's too easy. I ended up choosing Sky 🤷‍♀️ I liked him enough in Dragonslayer, but he annoyed me in The Flames of Hope. I feel like he became a lot louder and more brash.

★ Like the design, dislike the character: Vulture

His dragon skull tattoos and the gimmick for them is so sick?? Why is this grandpa more stylish than me and everyone I know??? His design is great, but everything to do with him and his crime ring felt a little out of nowhere to me. It's been a while since I've read Darkness of Dragons, so maybe I'm just not remembering everything? But yeah. I wish he was introduced better.

★ Like the character, dislike the design: Luna

I like Luna!! And I like how she looks on her book cover, too (the rendering on her is drop-dead GORGEOUS). But the rest of her appearances in canon art... ehh.

These shades of green are making me feel things. And the spots on her wings look kind of awkward to me.

★ Favorite ship: Jambu x Pineapple

I was really close to putting Clay x Peril here because of how OBSESSED I was with them as a kid (shout-out to the Demons Peril PMV by Echosplash Animations that saved my life); however, Jambu x Pineapple is the only ship in the series that got me kicking my feet. The flashback to them cuddling in the hammock melted my heart 💖 Luna x Swordtail, Tamarin x Anemone, and Mangrove x Orchid are also my beloved. Honestly, though, I'm not that involved with shipping anymore.

★ Would never befriend IRL: Sundew

I like Sundew as a fictional character, but I would be slightly scared of her if she was real. She probably wouldn't like me.

★ Would befriend IRL: Umber

He just seems chill. I don't think he'd prod me to do stuff or talk, and I like people like that... People who can just let you exist. I feel like he'd tolerate my cringey humor, too.

★ Similar personality: Clearsight

I am NOWHERE near as girlboss as her, but I can relate to constantly worrying about future situations that may or may not happen 😁😁

★ Least favorite ship: Burn x Scarlet

Sorry toxic yuri ☹️ I just don't ship Burn with anyone.

*This template wasn't my idea; I took the original template and modified it to my liking.

[babyrdie]

PERSEUS & CIA (PART 2)

Parte 1 here! Part 3 here!

ANDROMEDA

Euripides wrote a play entitled Andromeda about Perseus' rescue of Andromeda, but the play is lost. From the surviving fragments, it’s possible to learn a few things. For example, Perseus, while passing through the region, initially thought the chained Andromeda was a statue. Although he wasn’t in love yet (because he thought it was just a statue), he praised the supposed "artwork", which indicates that Perseus found Andromeda beautiful.

But ah, what hill is this I see, with sea-foam flowing round, and what image of a girl in chiseled stone that perfectly renders her form, the beautiful product of an artful hand?

Fragment 125. Translation by John Gibert.

Perseus asked Andromeda if she would repay him for saving her, and Andromeda promised that she would be whatever he wanted, whether as a slave or as a wife, as long as he saved her. Which gives me the impression that, in Euripides' version, as soon as Perseus realized that Andromeda was a woman and not a statue, he thought of saving her with the intention of having her marry him in return. The fact that Andromeda even offered to be a slave in exchange for being saved shows how desperately she wanted to live.

[...] and when he became much attached to him Crantor asked him, quoting a line out of the Andromeda of Euripides:— O virgin, if I save you, will you thank me? And he replied by quoting the next line to it:— Andromeda: O take me to you, stranger, as your slave, Or wife, or what you please.

Life of Arcesilaus, III. Translation by C. D. Yonge.

In John Gibert's translation, Perseus's question is “Maiden, if I should save you, will you show me gratitude?” and Andromeda's answer is “Take me, stranger, whether for servant, wife, or slave”.

There are other fragments, but I didn't put them here because I read them in a Brazilian translation (translation by Clara Lacerda Crepaldi) because the English translation of all the fragments is paid and I won't pay anything in dollars, so instead I'll summarize what was said. It's a bit complicated to know who's speaking, though. Anyone who's read an ancient Greek play knows that it's often the Chorus speaking and not the main characters, which makes things more confusing in cases of fragmented plays. Anyway, here:

The play seems to take place at night, as there are references to night. Andromeda, for example, admires the stars. In more than one fragment, Andromeda laments the situation she is in, about to be devoured by a monster. She doesn’t understand what she did to deserve this misfortune and compares herself to a pasture. One fragment suggests that Andromeda isn’t only lamenting out loud, but also crying. In addition, she mentions the chains. 

Andromeda talks about her friends and also talks to the nymph Echo, who is present in this play and is apparently in a cave. One fragment is apparently Echo repeating Andromeda's last word, which is "Olympus." Andromeda believes that it is better to mourn with friends. The Chorus emphasizes the absurdity of the situation, saying that Cepheus has no mercy and fathered a daughter only to send her to Hades for the sake of the country. The Chorus says this after Andromeda asks them to mourn with her, as the relief is greater when mourning together. Perhaps the Chorus were friends of Andromeda? I really don’t know for sure.

Perseus flies in on Hermes' sandals and mistakes Andromeda for a beautifully crafted statue, but eventually realizes that she’s a living woman. He tells her that he feels sorry for her seeing her like this. Andromeda asks Perseus to have mercy, Perseus asks if she will show gratitude, and Andromeda offers to be his servant, slave, or wife. At some point, what appears to be Perseus says that he doesn’t cause misfortunes to others because he fears that those misfortunes will come back to him. Someone I assume is Andromeda tells someone else, who I assume is Perseus, not to make her cry by giving her vain hopes since the future is uncertain. There is a comment from someone about how afflictions are sweet once they’re overcome. Someone, I assume Perseus, says that he has achieved fame but not without afflictions. There is a line about a person being more instigated by audacity and youth than by reason. More comments about the future. Eros is invoked to either dispel love (it is said more in the sense of not making the beautiful seem beautiful) or else to help both. Comments about love and lines that seem flirtatious. Someone, I imagine Perseus, is forbidden by another person to have bastard children because, although they’re worth as much as legitimate children, they aren’t treated the same way. One person says that the other is blessed to have money because a rich person is honored by others, but the answer is that although they have money they aren’t blessed in circumstances. I imagine the person answering is Andromeda, because she’s rich and is in a horrible situation.

The sea monster is spotted by someone, who is certainly not Andromeda (as she is referred to in the third person. Maybe it's the Chorus? They usually narrate things like that). After the monster's defeat, the people of Aethiopia appear bringing gifts and apparently the monster's defeat is celebrated. More comments about the future, destiny and luck. Finally, some trade is being made.

Parts of this play have also been preserved in the Suda, a Byzantine encyclopedia, including: the dialogue in which Perseus asks if there will be gratitude (passage epsiloniota, 258) and Andromeda makes the proposal (passage alpha, 1367), part of Andromeda's lament (passage alphaiota, 245), a phrase related to the sky (passage alphaiota, 122), a phrase related to chariot-ride (passage iota, 531), etc.

It’s theorized that this was probably the first PLAY to depict a man falling in love with a woman IN THE MOMENT OF PASSION. I’m not talking about poems and I’m not talking about a man loving a woman, I am talking about a play specifically showing the exact moment in which he fell in love and this was apparently a very important theme of the play. It’s also commented that perhaps Perseus' entrance was an innovative detail, since apparently he appears flying with Hermes' sandals.

In Lycophron's Alexandra, Cassandra mentions this episode when telling how, in the towers of Cepheus (Aethiopia), a petrel (the monster) went in search of a woman (Andromeda), but came across “the eagle son of the golden sire – a male with winged sandals” (Perseus) and was killed by him.

[...] And he shall visit the towers of Cepheus and the place that was kicked by the foot of Hermes Laphrios, and the two rocks on which the petrel leapt in quest of food, but carried off in his jaws, instead of a woman, the eagle son of the golden Sire – a male with winged sandals who destroyed his liver [...]

Alexandra. Translation by A.W. Mair.

Tzetzes, in his scholia of Lycophron, gave more details. He says that Cassiopeia compared herself in beauty to Hera or the Nereids and she/they asked Poseidon to send a sea monster, which he did. Having consulted an oracle about what to do to save Aethiopia, King Cepheus offered his daughter Andromeda to be devoured by the monster and, for this purpose, bound her with chains. Perseus, after killing Medusa, was passing by and felt sorry for Andromeda, so he petrified the monster. After rescuing Andromeda, he married her. As far as I remember, this is the only version I've read that had Hera in the story.

"And the two rocks"; Andromeda is the daughter of Cepheus, the king of the Ethiopians, and Cassiepeia. When Cassiepeia was arguing about beauty with Hera or according to others with the Nereids, Poseidon sent a sea monster at their request, which was ravaging Ethiopia. Cepheus, after an oracle was given, offered his daughter Andromeda to be devoured by the monster and bound her with iron chains to a rock near the city of Ethiopia, Joppa. At that time, Perseus, having just beheaded the Gorgon, was passing through these places and, taking pity on Andromeda, he showed the head of the Gorgon to the monster and at the same time drawing his sickle, he turned part of the monster into stone and cut off the rest, and having rescued the girl, he married her. That the events concerning Andromeda took place near Joppa is testified by Aristeides (sch. hyp. t. t. 208 3), Libanius (IV 1109 R), Procopius (I 19 p. 100 20), Josephus (b. J. III 420); and someone of them says: "The city of Joppa, the prison of Andromeda", another again says that "there Io, having defeated Argos, became a human". The kepphos is a winged sea creature, hunted with foam, but now by misuse kepphos is said to be the sea monster.

Ad Lycophronem, 836.

He also interpreted that by implying that Perseus destroyed the monster's liver, Lycophron used the story of Heracles killing the sea monster at Troy, which had come to devour the princess Hesione, to compose the myth of Perseus. Tzetzes then claims that this is nonsense, since Perseus wasn’t swallowed like Heracles.

[...] “Liver-worker," because just as Heracles was consumed by the sea monster, so too was Perseus swallowed by the sea monster, which gnawed at his liver and he escaped and saved Andromeda. "Winged-sandaled" because of the winged sandals on his feet. He babbles, he prattles, not knowing what he writes, as also "liver-worker"; for the sea monster did not swallow Perseus as it did Heracles. It seems, however, that Lycophron, drunk with the luxuries and gifts of Ptolemy, transferred the story of Heracles and the sea monster according to Hesiod to Perseus and Andromeda. [...]

Ad Lycophronem, 839.

He also says that Phineus, Andromeda's fiance and uncle, plotted to kill him but Perseus petrified him.

He turned Phineus, the brother of Cepheus who was betrothed to Andromeda and plotted against him, into stone by showing him the Gorgon.

Ad Lycophronem, 838.

Furthermore, the Suda says that Lycophron of Chalcis apparently wrote a tragedy called “Andromeda.” Perhaps it is on that theme?

of Chalcis in Euboea; son of Socles, and by adoption of Lycus of Rhegium. Grammarian and tragic poet; he is one of the seven who are named the Pleiad. His tragedies are: Aeolus; Andromeda; Aletes; Aeolides; Elephenor; Heracles; Suppliants; Hippolytus; Cassandreis; Laius; Marathonians; Nauplius; Oedipus (1 and 2); Orphan; Pentheus; Pelopidae; Allies; Telegonus; Chrysippus. Of these, the Nauplius is a revision. He also wrote the so-called Alexandra, the obscure poem.

Suda, lambda,827. Translation by Malcolm Heath.

According to Hyginus, Andromeda's mother Cassiopeia boasted that her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids. This offended Poseidon, who ordered the Aethiopians to offer Andromeda as a sacrifice to the sea monster he was about to send. Perseus was passing by, flying with Hermes' sandals, and seeing her there decided to rescue her. Perseus wanted to marry Andromeda, but her father and fiancé did not want this and planned to kill him. He heard about this, killed them both using the Gorgon's head, and left with Andromeda. Interestingly, I think this is the only version where I saw Cepheus actively try to stop the marriage in such a cunning/violent way.

Cassiope claimed that her daughter Andromeda's beauty excelled the Nereids'. Because of this, Neptune demanded that Andromeda, Cepheus' daughter, be offered to a sea-monster. When she was offered, Perseus, flying on Mercury's winged sandals, is said to have come there and freed her from danger. When he wanted to marry her, Cepheus, her father, along with Agenor, her betrothed, planned to kill him. Perseus, discovering the plot, showed them the head of the Gorgon, and all were changed from human form into stone. Perseus with Andromeda returned to his country. [...]

Fabulae, 64. Translation by Mary Grant.

He also tells that both Cassiopeia and Cepheus tried to dissuade Andromeda, but she still wanted to marry Perseus.

[...] Nor did he receive less kindness from her in return for his good deed. For neither her father Cepheus nor her mother Cassiepia could dissuade her from following Perseus, leaving parents and country. About her Euripides has written a most excellent play with her name as title.

Astronomica, 2.11.1. Translation by Mary Grant.

Pausanias also mentions the myth in which Perseus rescues Andromeda while explaining why the water in a region was red, reporting that a local tradition said that it became that color because Perseus washed off the blood in the spring. The fact that Perseus had to wash off the blood makes me wonder if the monster's defeat was different here, whereas in the more usual tradition he was simply petrified and not attacked.

[4.35.9] [...] Red water, in color like blood, is found in the land of the Hebrews near the city of Joppa. The water is close to the sea, and the account which the natives give of the spring is that Perseus, after destroying the sea-monster, to which the daughter of Cepheus was exposed, washed off the blood in the spring.

Description of Greece, 4.35.9. Translation by W.H.S. Jones.

According to Pseudo-Apollodorus, Cassiopeia boasted that she was more beautiful than the Nereids, which offended both the Nereids and Poseidon. Poseidon then sent a flood and a monster to invade Aethiopia, but Ammon predicted that this could be avoided if Andromeda were used as a sacrifice. Cepheus was then forced by the people to do so. When Perseus appeared, he fell in love with Andromeda and told Cepheus that he would save them as long as Andromeda was given to him as a wife. Promise made, Perseus killed the monster and freed Andromeda. However, her fiancé and uncle, Phineus, plotted Perseus's death because he wanted Andromeda to marry him. The plot was discovered, and both he and his accomplices were turned to stone by Perseus, who used Medusa's head.

[...] Being come to Ethiopia, of which Cepheus was king, he found the king's daughter Andromeda set out to be the prey of a sea monster. For Cassiepea, the wife of Cepheus, vied with the Nereids in beauty and boasted to be better than them all; hence the Nereids were angry, and Poseidon, sharing their wrath, sent a flood and a monster to invade the land. But Ammon having predicted deliverance from the calamity if Cassiepea's daughter Andromeda were exposed as a prey to the monster, Cepheus was compelled by the Ethiopians to do it, and he bound his daughter to a rock. When Perseus beheld her, he loved her and promised Cepheus that he would kill the monster, if he would give him the rescued damsel to wife. These terms having been sworn to, Perseus withstood and slew the monster and released Andromeda. However, Phineus, who was a brother of Cepheus, and to whom Andromeda had been first betrothed, plotted against him; but Perseus discovered the plot, and by showing the Gorgon turned him and his fellow conspirators at once into stone. [...]

Library, 2.4.3. Translation by J.G. Frazer.

Sophocles wrote a lost play entitled Andromeda on this subject. Here, I once again resorted to Brazilian texts written in colleges and made available for free because they are part of the published thesis, since it was getting boring to look for the plot of the fragments in English. The writer of the moment is Wilson Alves Ribeiro Jr. Ribeiro contextualizes that the date of the play is uncertain and it is not possible to be sure whether Sophocles or Euripides wrote a play entitled “Andromeda” first. It is theorized that in an Attic cranium with a white background by the Phyalian Painter, dated 440-435 BC, currently preserved in Akragas, in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale, there is a scene that possibly corresponds to a representation of Sophocles’ Andromeda, more precisely to the moment when Perseus finds Andromeda tied to the rock. There is a scripture that identifies Perseus as Euaeon/Evaíon, son of Aeschylus. Euaeon/Evaíon was an actor, so it is quite apparent that this painting specifically depicted the performance of a play based on the myth, and the actor playing Perseus was Euaeon/Evaíon.

As for the fragments, ten short fragments survive. The beginning of the play shows Cepheus and his entourage chaining Andromeda to a rock. Imprisoned, Andromeda mourns either with her mother Cassiopeia or alone. When Andromeda is alone, Perseus appears and sees her. He makes a deal with Cepheus to marry her in exchange for saving her, defeats Phineus — it’s theorized that the outcome of the contest may have been announced by a messenger, as is typical of plays —, and leaves with Andromeda. The play seems to use Perseus as a Greek model of bravery while Phineus is a “barbarian” model of cowardice. In one of the surviving fragments (frag 126) someone says that Andromeda was chosen as a sacrifice by the polis because the “barbarians” had the custom of sacrificing people to Cronus since ancient times.

Philostratus in Imagines described paintings, which we can't be sure actually existed or whether Philostratus invented them for literary convenience. In any case, one of them depicted Perseus rescuing Andromeda. The description is extensive, so I'll give it a brief description, but you can read it here in Arthur Fairbanks' translation. The monster is already dead and bleeding profusely, which Philostratus says is the reason the sea is red. The winged god Eros, here a young man (which the author points out is unusual. Philostratus was from the Roman period, by the way), helps free Andromeda from her chains. Perseus is said to have asked Eros for help in defeating the monster, which he did. Perseus himself is hiding Medusa's head, fearing that he might accidentally petrify someone because there are Aethiopians in the scene who show up to offer Perseus things. Both Perseus and Andromeda are emphasized by their beauty, and they look at each other while Andromeda seems to feel a mixture of feelings: fear, incredulity and relief. I got the impression that the monster's defeat here was different. In addition to Eros's interference in the monster's defeat — Eros was in some visual representations, but usually to symbolize the erotic desire between Perseus and Andromeda and not to kill the monster —, the monster is bleeding. How would it bleed while being petrified? It's different from most other fonts, but I don't think it's different enough to be an alternative myth.

This myth has also been represented in visual art, for example: 1, 2, 3.

Alternative myth

Conon tells a rationalized version of the myth that is quite different from the usual one. Here, Andromeda was not under threat of death from a monster sent by Poseidon, but thought she had been kidnapped by one of her suitors and cried out for help (her father had approved, but decided not to tell her. So she didn't know that it was, like, supposedly a legitimate betrothal). Perseus happened to be traveling there by coincidence (he wasn't returning from Medusa thing) and, taking pity on Andromeda's screams, saved her. Andromeda then married Perseus.

The 40th story tells the history of Andromeda quite differently from the myth of the Greeks. Two brothers were born, Kepheus and Phineas, and the kingdom of Kepheus is what is later renamed Phoenicia but at the time was called Ioppa, taking its name from Ioppe the seaside city. And the borders of his realm ran from our sea [the Mediterranean] up to the Arabs who live on the Red Sea. Kepheus has a very fair daughter Andromeda, and Phoinix woos her and so does Phineas the brother of Kepheus. Kepheus decides after much calculation on both sides to give her to Phoinix but, by having the suitor kidnap her, conceal that it was intentional. Andromeda was snatched from a desert islet where she was accustomed to go and sacrifice to Aphrodite. When Phoinix kidnapped her in a ship (which was called Ketos [sea monster], whether by chance or because it had a likeness to the animal), Andromeda began screaming, assuming she was being kidnapped without her father's knowledge, and called for help with groans. Perseus the son of Danae by some daimonic chance was sailing by, and at first sight of the girl, was overcome by pity and love. He destroyed the ship Sea Monster and killed those aboard, who were only surprised, not actually turned to stone. And for the Greeks this became the sea monster of the myth and the people turned to stone by the Gorgon's head. So he makes Andromeda his wife and she sails with Perseus to Greece and they live in Argos where he becomes king.

Narrations, 40. Translation by Brady Kiesling.

And, as a continuation of that version of Suda in which Medusa is simply an ugly woman who Perseus kills, after he does so he marries Andromeda, who in this very alternative version was found in a temple.

[...] And from there he went into a country that was ruled by Cepheus and he found in the temple a virgin maiden called Andromeda, whom he married [...]

Suda, mu,406. Translation by Jennifer Bennedict.

RETURN TO SERIPHUS

Pindar describes Perseus petrifying the people of Seriphus (note that it is the people here. It isn’t Polydectes' friends, it’s actually Seriphus) when he returned in revenge for the slavery and rape Danae suffered because of Polydectes. This is the only source I have found that mentions slavery in any sense, and it’s also the only source in which Danae apparently actually was abused by Polydectes.

[...] when he did away with the third sister and brought death to sea-girt Seriphus and its people. Yes, he brought darkness on the monstrous race of Phorcus, and he repaid Polydectes with a deadly wedding-present for the long slavery of his mother and her forced bridal bed [...]

Pythian Ode 12. Translation by Diane Arnson Svarlien.

In Lycophron's Alexandra, there is what appears to be a reference to Perseus petrifying Polydectes and the people of Seriphus. It says "men" and not "man", so I think it’s unlikely that it refers to the version where only Polydectes was turned to stone.

[...] Fashioning men as statues from top to toe he shall envelop them in stone [...]

Alexandra. Translation by A.W. Mair.

According to Hyginus, when Perseus returned with Andromeda to Seriphus, Polydectes feared Perseus' power and attempted to kill him. However, Perseus discovered the plan and petrified him with the Gorgon's head.

[...] Perseus with Andromeda returned to his country. When Polydectes saw that Perseus was so courageous, he feared him and tried to kill him be treachery, but when Perseus discovered this he showed him the Gorgon's head, and he was changed from human form into stone.

Fabulae, 64. Translation by Mary Grant.

According to Pseudo-Apollodorus, when Perseus returned to Seriphus he discovered that Dictys and Danae had taken refuge at an altar to escape Polydectes. For context, the altar is a possible refuge because assaulting someone there could result in an offense to the guardian deity — examples: according to Pseudo-Apollodorus, Pelias, by killing Sidero inside the temple of Hera, displeased Hera, who purposefully planned Medea as his misfortune; In post-Homeric versions, Achilles, by killing Troilus inside Apollo's temple, caused the god to later kill him; Ajax the Lesser attacked Cassandra inside the temple of Athena, and on the way back was punished by the goddess; Neoptolemus, for having offended Apollo either intentionally or having offended his priests unintentionally, was killed by Orestes at Delphi. Anyway, Perseus went after Polydectes in his palace, where the king had gathered friends, and petrified everyone there. Afterwards, he made Dictys king of Seriphus and returned the gifts given to him by the gods, although he kept Medusa's head.

[2.4.4] [...] And having come to Seriphus he found that his mother and Dictys had taken refuge at the altars on account of the violence of Polydectes; so he entered the palace, where Polydectes had gathered his friends, and with averted face he showed the Gorgon's head; and all who beheld it were turned to stone, each in the attitude which he happened to have struck. Having appointed Dictys king of Seriphus, he gave back the sandals and the wallet (kibisis) and the cap to Hermes, but the Gorgon's head he gave to Athena. Hermes restored the aforesaid things to the nymphs and Athena inserted the Gorgon's head in the middle of her shield. 

Library, 2.4.4. Translation by J.G. Frazer.

Tzetzes says that Perseus went with Andromeda to Seriphus, where he discovered that Danae and Dictys had taken refuge in a temple because of Polydectes. Perseus then went to where Polydectes was holding a banquet and turned everyone to stone with the head of Medusa. After this, he gave the kingdom to Dictys and returned the divine gifts. He did not keep Medusa's head and instead gave it to the goddess Athena, who put Medusa on her shield. The "dog of Hades" is his cap, as it can also be referred to as the "dog-skin of Hades".

Perseus himself, with Andromeda, went to Seriphos. Finding his mother had taken refuge in the temple with Dictys because of Polydectes, he went to Polydectes' house and found a grand banquet. Showing them the Gorgon, he turned them all to stone. He gave the kingdom to Dictys, and Hermes took the sandals and the dog of Hades from him and gave them to their rightful owners. Perseus gave the head of the Gorgon to Athena, who fixed it in the middle of her shield. Others say that she fixed it on the ornament she wore on her chest, which is why it was called the Gorgonion from the Gorgon. [...]

Ad Lycophronem, 838.

Strabo says that in revenge for Polydectes trying to abuse Danae, Perseus turned all of Seriphus to stone with the head of Medusa.

[...] it is said, and when he brought the Gorgon's head there, he showed it to the Seriphians and turned them all into stone. This he did to avenge his mother, because Polydectes the king, with their cooperation, intended to marry his mother against her will. The island is so rocky that the comedians say that it was made thus by the Gorgon.

Geography, 10.5.10. Translation by H. L. Jones.

[temtamtom]

Stop! ✋⛔ Show us the latest artsketch you've been working on! Send this to 5 other artists!

Stylised art? On this blog? More likely than you think!

While working on a spiderverse fan animation for school back in March-April, I came up with a spiderverse AU that I’ve grown very fond of. I’ve been fiddling around with it in my mind a lot, but I decided pretty recently to try and make art/content for it. So here’s me figuring out the style + working on some character designs. They’ll be rendered properly, ofc, to better match the style.

I have a lot of plans for this AU but I feel nervous talking about them publicly because I worry about hyping myself up too much and making promises I can’t keep. So. I’ll enjoy the ride as long as I can. Maybe you guys will see more of it eventually!

In the meantime, I’ll just say this about it:

Mathieu never got to enjoy his role as Spiderman for very long before a tragic loss caused him to hang up the mantle for good. But the world needs Spiderman, now more than ever. With the help of a long-lost friend, Mattie now has to regain the courage and confidence necessary to put on the mask again.

[rachthepoet]

Keep Driving Analysis

Oh my, oh my. Keep Driving renders domesticity with vague tableaus, from the mundane to the utterly surreal, counting off on his fingers a new twist on the grocery list. Ahem, well, to me anyhow. It tacks together a collage, one representative of a dreamy relationship. Romantic, but showing simultaneous unsteadiness. It's a masterclass in delicate deception and extended metaphor, one of those songs I'd personally pull to illustrate just how beautiful Harry has a hold on his art lyrically and musically.

Maybe I'm a bit biased, I'll be so frank, due to the utilization of the stream-of-consciousness poetic style. The intentional lack of organization is such a willful move on the artist's part. A bold and unusual form to be brought into song lyrics due to how off-putting it can come off to the listener, but Harry takes that possibility into ownership and uses it to strengthen his work. The inclination to seek solace while in perpetual motion. Impeccably, may I add.

Here's a deep dive (or should I dare to say drive?) into Harry Styles' Keep Driving, from a poet.

Harry S. & Paul M. 🚗

Something that hit me on the first listen, and persistent in all the listens to follow, is the striking similarity between this song of Harry's and Paul McCartney's Junk. The Beatles and Paul himself have been ingrained in my livelihood since I was small, on car rides with my mother who took my conversion to Beatles fan very seriously. So, maybe it's too natural for me to find any association between the two, but I promise there's a direction to my madness. First, for context's sake, let's talk about McCartney's song, Junk.

Junk is a contemplative piece delving into themes of materialism, nostalgia, and the passage of time. The way I hear this song, it stands against the concept of "letting material things go" with a focus on keeping close to the heart old material things that hold the sentiments — but, parallel, it also opposes consumerism and frowns upon just how fast the economy wants people to live their lives. There's this encompassing of the transient nature of life itself, with a rattling list of items becoming metaphors. Acknowledging, though, the tendency for once-cherished items to turn forgotten & obsolete.

Keep Driving could be illustrating something similar, I suppose. Well, not suppose, I believe it, actually. The constant change of scenery in the song, very reminiscent of McCartney's, can illustrate this transient nature, and even a haunting sense of impermanence lingering underfoot. The narrator and subject drive a faulty car, passing memories and new technologies along the way. "Something old and something new", as Paul himself would say, and does so in Junk. Despite all this change, one thing is blatantly stated as permanent: I will always love you, a favorite part of the song for my hopeless romantic heart. Anywho. Despite the faults in the engine and the brake — all a metaphor, of course — this sense of adoration and devotion courses through his veins for his companion. And there's confidence that'll never change for him, despite the transient nature around them. Or, even, the transient nature that has seeped into their own dynamic, closing in. I find it quite romantic, this proclamation of love in the midst of it all, but I better save my yapping on that for now.

Lyric Pull Apart 🚗

[VERSE 1] Black-and-white film camera Yellow sunglasses Ash tray, swimming pool Hot wax, jump off the roof

The scenery has been set into motion, utilizing that writing technique I tried to sneak into your head before. Yes, stream-of-consciousness. Here, we're given a hint into the structure of the song lyrically: the verses will be chronicling and reminisicing on memories shared between the couple, while the chorus will be a constant that the song circles back to, a stark contrast between fantasy/nostalgia vs. reality. With this importance of the structure, each verse and further sections will be kept intact visually, like above. Okay, shall we get on with it?

Black-and-white film camera: This as the opening lyric is something so genius to me, as I'm accompanied by the visual of the clicking noses of an old camera before you go to watch back memories you've captured. Which, I believe, sets the tone for the rest of the verse — and then for the second verse and bridge to come — in terms of the whole piece's structure solidified. This also gives us a look into the two characters in our narrative I believe. The film camera leans into nostalgia, as both of them tend to lean heavily into memories. This feels like a bit of foreshadowing to the core conflict, the tendency to trick oneself into hiding in the pleasures of what has been instead of focusing on what is now.

Yellow sunglasses: I think there are two ways one could go with interpretations of this detail. Well, three, if you could that it could just be the color of the frame of the sunglasses he's noticed they always wear. So, yeah, correct that to three. The first perspective ties back to my ramble regarding memories and nostalgia. In films, yellow is used as a memory haze coloring, which further amplifies the conceptualization of memories being remembered.

The second perspective is how it very well could be a nod to the common cliche, seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. Yellow is a color commonly associated with happiness and buoyancy. The suggestion here, I think, could be that his vision of the relationship is more optimistic than realistic, and doesn't necessarily want to face how tings might be falling apart, even though there's already a small concern. That can so quickly turn into a big concern.

Both perspectives can coexist, and, truly, they help flesh out each other. And both are applicable to the core themes of the song, so, really, all of these thoughts can be true and working in cohesion.

Ash tray, swimming pool / Hot wax, jump off the roof: Bringing in the rest of the verse, and looking at the first verse altogether. To the listener, everything seems like a mishmash of words with no correlation to each other. But not to the two of them, and that integrates the smallest detail, but has the biggest implications attached. These are moments, summarizations, associations connected back to the speaker and his partner. Therefore, they're uninterpretable by anybody else. It radiates a sense of established intimacy, which, when we bring in the rift, it now holds so much more emphasis. A harder hit, because we get the taste of sweetness before the punch of the sour.

[1ST CHORUS] A small concern with how the engine sounds We held darkness in withheld clouds I would ask, "Should we just keep driving?"

He snaps back to the current day, the reality vs. the fantasy, thrown out of the yellow haze of nostalgia, face-to-face with the issue with the two of them, the quote-en-quote "engine" in this extending metaphor. The vehicle is symbolic of their relationship, therefore the engine is representative of the health of their bond. This is the metaphor one has to remember in order to envelop oneself in the true beauty of the song.

A small concern with how the engine sounds: The chord played in companionship with this line is a shock to the ear, pulling the listener out of the laidback groove. It amplifies the shift of the speaker, the reality vs. the fantasy. This is our first implication in the lyrics that something is off, something is in trouble. But the interest in the details is low — he aches to continue wading into the impressions left in his head, the memories he doesn't want to abandon to face reality, whether it's the relationship with this other or something that extends beyond.

A sprite of concern saying, "The engine's making a funny noise that could impact the car's health" evolves, then, to a sprite of concern saying, "There's this issue between us that could impact the relationship's health". At its very best, it will only make for a minor bump in the road. At its very worst, the damage will be far beyond repair.

We held darkness in withheld clouds: This is a bit of a juxtaposition here, but that in no way negates its value in extending the listener's understanding. It's a beautiful and poignant phrase and is one of my favorite lines ever penned at his hand. We've solidified that the speaker is aware of the troubling turbulence, now taking the form of rain clouds. He knew that storms were brewing under their noses, but decided to keep moving along in hopes they would go. He repressed them. Because he didn't just say clouds, but rather coupled it with the term withheld — to keep something back and not share it. And, a little detail in this line I find interesting is the use of past tense. We held darkness in withheld clouds, with the past tense informing that they were no longer in the situation. But he could be looking back with a tinge of regret, in this inner conflict with himself. Trying to work out if he should stick in his ways, in his unhealthy coping tactics, to continue his emotional coasting.

I would ask, "Should we just keep driving?": Is it avoidance? Is it acceptance? Complacency? Apathy? All of it? I'm partial to the last one. He knows something isn't quite right in the engine, but chose those yellow sunglasses of optimistic haze anyway. He wants to ignore the negative parts of their relationship like an inexperienced driver wants to ignore a weird engine sound they don't want to deal with. This common feeling that maybe things will be okay if they wait it out enough. But, still accompanied with I would ask, which I feels like has an undertone of uncertainty of his choice a bit, in the way the chorus ends.

All three of these lines working together makes the chorus intriguing and draws one in, even if kept in such a small package. There's an acknowledgment, concern, then avoidance masked as acceptance. It's such a great chorus, can you tell I love this chorus?

[VERSE 2] Maple syrup, coffee Pancakes for two Hash brown, egg yolk I will always love you

Full disclosure, this verse makes me blush and giggle whenever I hear it. His voice is the softest he has sounded in this piece, which makes sense because it's the softest moment in the song. It's so fairytale-esque and dreamy in the ear. Also, the simplicity of it is saccharine sweet, a beautiful love letter to domesticity that rocks juxtaposition in comparison to the first verse. A constant routine he's reciting because it means so much to him.

Maple syrup, coffee: What's on the table in mornings spent together...

Pancakes for two / Hash brown, egg yolk: Sharing breakfast and sleepy, still-waking-up conversations...

I will always love you: Breakfast, breakfast, and suddenly, a love declaration. It's arguably the most blatant he's been in a romantic song, not hidden behind flowery language or poetry. Though, it does have a poetic flow and intention, but I'll get into that soon. Anywho, through the verses we see him chronicling memories held onto, all the sweetness before the turbulence set in. The memories of mornings spent together in the sickeningly sweet domestic atmosphere, and those are the kind of things he wants to grasp onto as they hit these rough patches. But this line is a stark outlier and disrupts the flow a bit, demandin your attention to be drawn to it, and I believe strongly that it's all in smart design. A full senence of his feelings rather than the expection to continue chronicling what's tangibly in front of him.

In breaking the pattern, it feels like he just couldn't hold it in any longer, that those three little words had to come out then and there. Here are our memories [through the black-and-white film camera], and I loved you all during them. Let's keep driving, I love you still, love you now. Here's our favorite breakfast to have together, remember that? I want to love you for so long.

Before we move past this though, gotta poetry geek out for a moment. This verse is the only one of the song to follow a meter — 4/6, with four syllables in the first and third lines and six syllables in the second and fourth lines — and a rhyme — ABCB — which in turn creates a stable feel and flow to it. Though it's not a concrete rule, often, this is something used very purposeful in poetry and leans more coincidental when it comes to songwriting. But, no matter the medium, whenever a singular section of a piece is set to break the pattern of the rest, it draws attention, and that's more than likely intentional on the artist's part. And I don't underestimate Harry ever. So, I will be proceeding on with the assumption that it wasn't just coincidental.

With this understanding, the second verse becomes even sweeter as it implies stability, which means a lot in a verse that reads as a love letter/romanticization to the domestic life. Saying that those things will always remain stable, even with the metaphorical engine problems and the pent-up darkness in their withheld clouds. Among all, these are our constants I'll keep drawing us back to. The breakfast we like to share, and the fact that "I will always love you". The use of the word always adds a prominent subtext of confidence, even if it's through yellow colored sunglasses.

[2ND CHORUS] A small concern with how the engine sounds We held darkness in withheld clouds I would ask, "Should we just keep driving?" Should we just keep driving?

There's not much difference between this second chorus and the first rendition, except one thing. The repetition of the core conflict of the piece, and I find this significant because of the order of the song up until now. In the first verse, he thought about their exciting memories, ones that embodied fun but also fleeting. When facing the inner conflict the first time around in the first chorus, there's this admittance of a problem at hand, a reflection of how it was handled before, and then this wondering if the two should keep repressing the issue. The question still lingers as he's asking it, with an uncertainty of it being the next step to be taken, though it's presented as a substantial one.

In the second verse, we're also in a reminiscence stage, but this time with memories embodying the heart and a sense of routine, in turn, stability. Remembering love and domesticity in its wholesome glory, and a sense of permanence in its final line. Then, we're back to where we are currently, with the second rendition of the chorus, the inner conflict is revisited, and the core question is repeated without the I would ask preceding it. Which gives off a sense that he's made up his mind. He wishes to keep emotionally coasting with his partner, to pick the optimistic view, having remembered the constant feeling of love by the end of the second verse.

[BRIDGE] Passports in foot wells Kiss her and don't tells Wine glass, puff pass Tea with cyborgs Riot America Science and edibles Life hacks going viral in the bathroom Cocaine, side boob Choke her with a sea view Toothache, bad move Just act normal Moka pot Monday It's all good Hey, you

I call this the everything but the kitchen sink bridge. But, seriously, this bridge works so well in its chaos, and I'll explain. After the second verse, the natural assumption would be for the song to increase its intimacy and domesticity. But, rather, this bridge veers in the opposite direction, becoming less intimate, less domestic. This is all a part of their relationship, assumed, but it's not as specific to them as earlier in the song. And as we lose that intimacy, the grasp on the nostalgia over reality as they mesh into one another, the song's feel changes.

The writing style hasn't changed, but the intensity has. The music behind his voice swells, adding an underlying sense of urgency, trepidation, and apprehension when your focus goes to the instruments alone. Almost akin to a foot pressing on the gas, pushing the car engine too far, almost to the teetering line of complete engine failure. The chaotic nature of the bridge embodies the chaotic moments of the relationship. And, when the focus shifts to the chaos, the reality in opposition to the yellow-hazed memories he's been planting himself in, their bond suffers as felt in the rise of intensity of the instrumentals.

The bridge is significantly longer than the two verses before and is split into two chunks where he's allowed to take a breath. But, in no moment before the end does he stop to beg the question. He doesn't communicate as all this chaos finally rises to the surface, making it hard to ignore. I see this bridge as a moment of emotional release, as a result of the repression before, and it's only when everything is about to hit its peak that he leans back on how he's gotten through it before. Though unhealthy, he finally brings up the question again. The second he does, things return to the status quo -- the music mellows down to the same childlike glockenspiel, a laid-back sway the characters and listeners both fall back to. We have chosen the yellow sunglasses again, as the influx of chaos is too intense to face. We keep on driving, even if it's just a repression. We'll keep on emotional coasting.

[OUTRO] Should we just keep driving? Should we just keep driving? (Ooh) Should we just keep driving?

More repetition is added to the core conflict, to the core question, and the assumed conclusion is given: the choice is to keep on driving, to keep basking in the beauty of our bond instead of looking into the beasts, which will get us stuck in a rut I'm afraid we won't be able to find our way out of. By the outro, the question becomes superficial and redundant because he knows the answer, even before the question leaves his lips. He knows the cycle he's stuck in, the coping through delicate deception. He's stopped trying to bring up that the engine sounds a little off, but rather desperately tries to keep his quickening voice soft, creating a yellow haze in hopes that he won't have to face the chaos again.

I have an inkling this is one of those songs people either love or hate, but, if you couldn't tell by just how much I've been gushing, I love it so very much! It's a song that admits that life can be shitty at times, and that includes the relationships that were once filled with sugar-coated memories, but there's always a sense of permanence that gives the push to keep you driving. Finding the calm in the chaos but almost being chaos together, even in the darkest times. Though poetic, we aren't hiding behind poetry or prose or flowery language, but bringing in the rawness, the realness, the existing and beautiful, even at times our choices can vary into the bad. It's the shortest song on the album, but I don't think it needs to be longer, and think the more condensed feeling only aids. And, speaking from experience, Keep Driving is a whole Kodak memory-maker opportunity when screaming the song in the car. Windows down!

Thank you for reading, you're absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you'd like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[nostalgiachan]

Night Hunters

A server I'm on has decided to do a slightly modified version of Baldur's Challenge for the month, and I figure it wouldn't kill me to share my stories (since those take me infinitely less time to do than art).

First Prompt: What are Tav's parents like?

CW: child abuse

- - -

Every so often, Null would think of her firstborn daughter, and her mood would be soured for the rest of the day. 

Seven years of her life, she wasted on trying to teach that brat alchemy - a paltry amount when considering the natural lifespan of the Drow, but Null valued her time more than most. She’d been positively patient with the little idiot, showing her in truly excruciating detail how to measure, to grind, to boil, to bottle. But no matter how much she drilled, how much she disciplined, the knowledge never took. In Null’s eyes, if she couldn’t pick up even the basics of potioncraft after that many years, then the only worth Vier would ever have to her was as fertilizer for fungi.

Even so many decades later, Null still kicked herself for not doing the deed with her own two hands. The idea she’d had for getting rid of her daughter had been sound, of that, she was certain. There was a grotto just outside of the city of Aleanduis which was home to both a healthy ecology of various fungi, and a particularly vicious pack of night hunters. She’d send the child out to the grotto, ostensibly to collect ingredients, the horrid deep bats would see easy prey and descend upon her, and she’d quickly be rendered nothing more than bones and guano. No more Vier, the fungi get fed, everyone wins. 

But how was Null to know that the little goblin had been breaking into her library when she was away and reading about necrotic magic? And even if she knew, she certainly wouldn’t have thought the girl capable of actually harnessing those energies and fighting back against the night hunters. So when she found the girl mangled but alive, surrounded by moldered bat corpses, was she wrong to have been a touch impressed?

Yes, as it turned out, she was, because that little spark of promise Vier showed led to Null making the boneheaded mistake of trying to send the girl off to the Aleanduis Clerical Academy. She’d nearly driven their household to financial ruin trying to scrounge up the tuition money, but, she reminded herself, this would be an investment. Vier would go off for a decade or two and hopefully be molded into a fine cleric who would then hopefully be scouted by a noble house, and hopefully, she would remember the mother who put her there and bring her into the fold. After all, even if she gained some ability with potioncraft, she’d still need someone reliable from whom to source her ingredients, and Null the Alchemist was nothing if not reliable.

In retrospect, she felt she should’ve known her investment would never pay dividends. Twenty years passed, and Null didn’t hear word one from Vier. Had she graduated and failed to tell her? Joined a noble house and left her mother behind like an absolute ingrate? Was she dead in a ditch somewhere? As twenty years became thirty, became forty, became nearly a century, she never learned the answer.

But Null didn’t wait for Vier to magically reappear on her doorstep. Instead, she did as most Drow do when a child meets a mysterious fate: she dragged her husband, Verlein, off to the marriage bed to replace her. If the next child proved as worthless as Vier had, then both it and Verlein would find themselves thrown in the nearest hook horror den, and she’d go on the hunt for a man of better breeding.

Fortunately for her - and for Verlein, she supposed - her next few children actually took to their lessons well, and were more than capable of helping their little potion shop grow, if not quite flourish, over the years. Not the grand explosion of notoriety she’d hoped for, but one night, as she closed up shop, she swore she could feel something monumental just around the corner. Surely, opportunity would come knocking soon.

The universe, it seemed, had a sense of dramatic timing, for at that moment, she heard a knock on the shop’s door. Null’s momentary reverie was broken, and her response was immediate and enthusiastic.

“We’re closed!” she shouted. “Fuck off!”

From the other side came a slightly muffled voice, distinctly male. “Please, we have an urgent message for someone named Null! Please allow us entry!” A message? Who would be sending a messenger at this late hour? A grumble and a heavy sigh escaped Null’s lips as she unlatched the front door to receive her unwelcome visitor. “Fine, come in, but make it quick,” she spat without thinking, though as soon as her eyes fell upon her visitors, she almost wished she hadn’t.

On the other side stood what appeared to be a man clad in full piwafwi, face covering and all, rather tall and broad for a Drow. Behind him stood a handful of similarly-clad figures, each with faces obscured, each taller than average. As Null peered beneath the hood to see the man’s eyes, she was immediately taken aback; the man’s eyes were red, as expected, but his skin was far too pale to be a Drow. A human? But the only humans in Aleanduis were slaves, and no one would be perverse and foolish enough to dress their slaves in traditional armor. And humans didn’t typically have red eyes, as far as she knew.

The man boldly strode past the threshold, lowering his cowl as he did so, and the severity of Null’s mistake immediately became apparent. As the red-eyed human opened his mouth to speak once more, he revealed a set of dangerously sharp fangs.

A vampire. And she’d freely let him and his cohort in.

The last words that Null heard before those teeth tore into her throat were: “Vier Alurlssrin sends her regards.”

[napoleonxfalon]

@luciliustheforsworn location: End of the World Party - Eterna, Lysara notes: Lucilius is one of Napoleon's only friends (neither I nor Napoleon have ever told him that though). For the benefactor connect!

Vapid air permeated the assembly of young nobles who'd flocked at the promised night of debauched entertainment. Music, dancing, wine, art, performance, and ecstasy. If three hearts hadn't been arrested by dawn then the Sinarian would call this the end of an era. He'd been mentored well, Zagreus was in one of the rooms probably getting it from every end and you know what? Good for him.

"The trick to good portraiture is to think of something cute like puppies so your eyes look kind," Napoleon advised the model as the artist rendered their form onto the canvas. Since it was the end of the world, Napoleon wanted everyone to leave with a custom as a party favor. The artist was some Harmonium-trained-Astorian-big-wig that Napoleon's mother had sponsored and therefore, Napoleon had sponsored.

Playful, aloof, and better at this than most gave him credit, Napoleon turned on the charm as he went, not to shake Lucilius' hand, but to cradle the other's face and press his lips onto either cheek. "My friend! Welcome, I hope you're not too put out you weren't hired for the night, but I wanted you as a guest. Come, please, sit, let's get our portrait taken together."

[faerie-starv]

80s Kids: Afton Kids

I've been meaning to draw my own version of the Afton kids from Five Nights at Freddy's for some time now and here they are! :3

I'm also doing the Duchess Celestia ideas challenge(50 ideas actually) and picked the second choice which is 'Look at some of your old photos and either draw them or something inspired by them'. While I have the photos, I'm not going to post them here for safety reasons but I was born in early 80s and have some memories of the era. Since the Afton kids were living in early to mid 80s era I figured they're perfect idea to draw them.

For Evan Afton aka the Crying Child from Fnaf 4(Evan is not an official name by the way but it seems to be the most popular fan name), his outfit was based on a former neighbor kid from Tuscon neighborhood in Arizona. The kid was around eight or ten years old(can't remember as I was three back then) but I do remember the shirt and shorts he was wearing when he was over along with his older sister (who was my babysitter). I don't remember how many stripes was on his shirt so I'm only guessing.

The oldest Afton kid, Michael Afton from Sister Location and Fnaf4, as much as I liked the teen Michael render with Peter Parker hair(I forgot who made it but you'll see it on Fnaf animations on YT), it doesn't seem to match up with the early to mid 80s hair style. Me and other fans think he should have a mullet hair as it was popular hairstyle in the 80s. I got inspired of Steve Harrington's mullet like hairstyle from Stranger Things and I loved it how it turned out. I also made the jacket based from Eddie Munson(also from Stranger Things) because it looks bad ass and since Michael is a rebel, I put the Metallica logo patch on his jacket. I used @adorkastock pic for a reference pose for him and Evan. https://www.deviantart.com/adorkastock/art/2021-DEJ-18-No-872493165

Lastly, Elizabeth Afton's(either middle child or youngest, I'm not sure as there's a debate over it so I'm making her a middle child) dress was based from a Simplecity sewing pack. I changed the stripe colors to pink and blue based from her original dress she wore from Sister Location(which she possess Circus Baby). The dress was pretty popular for little girls in the 80s and I had a dress similar like that(mine was light blue with flowers, I think they were small daisies, can't remember) along with my daycare mates. I found it on Etsy when I was trying to find an 80s summer/spring dress when I found it. I also gave her a Mary Jane shoes.

I am sorry that Evan's and Mike's shoes didn't turn out well as it's my first time drawing sneakers(I know it looks bad) and I didn't use any references(which I should have but oh well).

I tried to make the 80s retro back ground using a tutorial but it didn't came out the way I wanted so I just kept the bottom grid. I promise I'll try to make a better one next time as I really loved the 80s grid background.

[mellozheist]

three things.

a. i absolutely adore your work. everything is just so well done and your art style is fantastic. your art makes me flappy bird (hand flapping stim) and i thank you for that.

b. what art program do you use for art/animation?

c. what is your favorite thing you have drawn/animated? can i get a link to it (if it has been posted)?

a. Thank you so much <333 I'm glad you enjoy my art hehe

b. I use CSP aka Clip Studio Paint Ex ( still on version 1 )

c. My favorite artwork I have made recently gonna be The Blood on the clock Tower Fanart from Hermitcraft!

I may be seen as an animator I do enjoy taking time to render my work eventho I'm struggling to start the color (that's why there's not much of a finished color render piece lmao) but when I get the grip of it, I do enjoy the process a lot

It just take a looooooooong time to finish

On the animation side, I think My first tiny Littlewood animatic still sits strong and has a special place in my heart

Martyn also did a reaction to it and having his chat being excited for it made me beyond happy :)

I recorded and put it as an unlisted video to look back on and have a huge smile on my face hehe

I promised I'll be back to continue my #386littlewood challenge

I have just been really busy and have not got the feeling to start another one yet, Hope I'll be back soon

My Thesis film with my friend was great don't get me wrong, but I watched them to check stuff too many times, with lots of stress, It was bittersweet for me and I wish we'd had time and mind to make it better

but it is what it is, We have limited time and even it was stressed af

It's very much worth it, My team was the best, I'm really lucky to have worked with them and I'm glad ppl like the message we put in our film :D

[jorality]

I watched Lolirock and I gotta say what interesting timing.

So there I was having the most cursed 2 weeks of my life, my (only) cornea fucking split open rendering me blinder than I already am, my dog literally went missing for a week and during that week Aunt Flo decided that 30 would be the age she would finally kill me. Cornea is still better, I have my dog back and for once Aunt Flo only lasted the promised 7 days, but I'm pretty sure I'm anemic now. Can't bounce back from immense blood loss like I used to.

ANYWAY, between putting a thousand eye drops in, having my throat close up due to stress and cramps I found Lolirock's youtube channel and decided to give it a go. I like watching cartoons because even if my glasses don't work I can see cartoons well enough without them. Lolirock's distinctive artstyle was super easy to see so I binged seasons 1 and 2. I had been kinda aware of the show but it never fully got on my radar. At first I thought it was a Canadian cartoon, but it's French, which explains why I kept thinking about Miraculous Ladybug every time the opening theme played. i also saw that it aired while I was in college. It was on Netflix but again it somehow avoided my radar, which is for the best because season 3 was announced last year which is awesome because season 2 ended with the perfect set up for a third season and I was surprised there wasn't a season 3 despite the show's age.

So here are some of my thoughts:

I was glad my hunch about Aunt Ellen was right, can't believe the reveal took so long tho.

I really thought they were going to find a way to make Nate into a fighter or something. Like when the twins unleashed that spell that made all those dark crystal spikes capture people I thought Amaru was gonna swoop in and scoop him up. Though Nate will probably be the main focus of Praxina's rage in season 3, so let's see if he'll get a chance to use magic. If not, I love a male damsel in distress. Too bad he forgot about everything after Iris turned back time with Izira's...brooch? Brooch.

Speaking of love interests, bring back Kyle, I was so surprised to see him and Mark come back. More on Talia and Auriana's love lives please! Can't let Iris have ALL the smooches.

I truly hope Mephisto is alive. I definitely preferred him over Praxina, and the episode where Praxina lost her memories threw me for a loop. I was low-key hoping Mephisto would take the opportunity to defect from Gramorr because frankly it seems like his heart wasn't really in it when it came to being evil. With Praxina's bloodlust lowered I'm sure the princesses would've accepted their help, but alas. He mentions getting a reward from Gramorr in the season finale but Gramorr ignores him.

Also, who the fuck is Banes? That is the shiftiest big cat in animation since Scar. He is absolutely primed to be the ultimate Big Bad, once the princesses fix Praxina and reunite her with Mephisto they can all take down Banes. (Not sure if that's really the route they'd go since Banes is supposed to be more like a familiar the way Amaru is)

I would also love to know Mephisto and Praxina's backstory, in the episode where Mephisto uses their family heirloom Praxina mentions the relative it belonged to was the Court jester.

(Also, sorry about not knowing episode names as mentioned above I could see the art but I couldn't read.)

Doug came out of nowhere but I like him.

I like the songs, although Celebrate seems to be in the wrong key during the chorus. Other than that the songs are super fun, I especially like Higher, Party Talking and Reach the Stars.

I'm interested in the lore, can't wait for that to be expanded. I poked around the fandom a lil bit, will be poking again.

[burnwater13]

Here we go again. The Mandalorian had not been talking about soup. Or stew. Or chowder. Nope. He’d been talking about the fancy flying it had taken to protect Greef and Cara from Tie fighters. More stinking Tie fighters. 

Grogu was not having it. He was going to call his agent and ask them to make sure that in future merch deals he got final say on the content. He couldn’t keep covering for these people and their odd choices. His fans expected better and he was willing to take the time and make sure that they got it. 

His dad pointed out there was nothing he could do about a product that had already been launched. They’d both promised the production company that they wouldn’t use the Force or any other force to compel changes to things they didn’t like. They would use words. Nice, safe, contractually obligated words. 

Grogu understood all that. It still didn’t make him happy. They could have used a vid of Din and he in the cockpit of the Razor Crest when it was upside down and he had his hands in the air cheering his dad on. Or it could have been a vid of him just sitting in the Razor Crest, all buckled up, looking impressed. It even could have been that one they used already showing how he’d thrown up. 

It didn’t matter that they had used it already. Whoever made this calendar reused certain vids a lot. That would have been no different. Now that was the question. Considering the fact that the calendar used content from two whole seasons of Grogu’s show, which encompassed six hundred and thirty minutes video, you’d think that it would be that hard to 365, or wait, 313 unique stills to use. 

He knew there were vids that the fans really wished had been in the calendar, and they were not all the one where Din Djarin leans back against a building in Mos Pelgo on Tatooine. Nope. 

What about the one where Grogu was walking down the ramp from the Razor Crest and he looked super sad and the fans just cried about that scene because they wanted him to be happy? That would have been great. He could have a very sad story that just tore away at your heart strings and made you cry. But no. They didn’t include that one. 

What about the one where his dad was with IG-11 on Arvala-7 and actually said “There’s too many!”. That sounded absurd, right? When did Din Djarin, Mandalorian bounty hunter, best in the Outer Rim, ever say there were too many bad guys? Never. That’s when. He would have said something like ‘I like those odds’. Now, that would have been a great vid. 

Or the one where the IG-11 and the Mandalorian were walking through the door they had just destroyed and where in silhouette with the bright blue sky of Arvala-7 behind them. That looked really cool. Taika had even commented on that scene when he saw it. 

But no. The merch people did not include that vid. They did include a lot of concept art, which was great. Grogu loved the artists who made all the sketches and paintings and renderings of the adventures as he and Dad explained them to Jon. They were really good at paying attention and putting the in the details. So why was it so hard to have unique images?

“Maybe the studio constrained them,” Din had commented when he heard Grogu grumbling under his breath about it. 

Grogu shook his head emphatically. Why would the studio do that? It was to their benefit that all the merch generate the royalties that they charged for the use of the images for commercial purposes. Plus, the more images in use the more people felt like the product represented the show and the happier the fans would be to buy the next one. Wasn’t that what it was really all about? Happy fans?

“I don’t think you understand how their system works, buddy.” 

That was probably true. There were a lot of things about how this planet worked and did things that Grogu did not understand. He supposed he would figure it all out eventually. His mom told him that it would take time to learn about cultural differences and that some fans might like the repetition.

He had snorted at that. Who liked repetition? It was boring. He wanted new stuff for entertainment purposes as well as for storytelling prompts. 

“Is that why you’ve watched all of the episodes three times at least?” She had asked him while he was dictating this story.

Another snort. Re-watching the show was all about getting the details right. Making sure that his stories fit the narrative that the show covered. Otherwise, he’d get all mixed up and would start talking about how funny Pedro and Amy were on set and that would break the forth wall again and people might figure out that he’d been visiting Earth for a while with his parents and did they really want that?  No, they did not. 

Better for everyone to think this was all Watsonian, even when a good chunk of it was Doylist. If they knew he was here they’d come looking for him and he’d never get a moments peace, or be able to just sit with his mom and dad and have soup again without people realizing that he wasn’t just a cute piece of merch himself. And he didn’t want that. Even for the sake of the fans. He just liked frog soup too much.

[poisonappletales]

@automaticcheesecakenacho’s Valentines + Arsenik's White Day Reply [3/3] (+ Game Preview)

@automaticcheesecakenacho sent this Valentine to Arsenik:

Arsenik's White Day reply:

"...Are you showing more of him as a waiter or as a host here?"

"Host, waiter - they're fairly similar, aren't they?"

"They've got some differences. Never been to a host cafe, club, whatever, but from what I hear -"

"WE SHOULD HAVE ENDED WITH THE TEDDY BEAR."

"See? Look at that magnificent specimen."

"I hope you're referring to the teddy bear and not yourself. Can't say I would put it past you to do so.

Either way, I would rather see this as me being a waiter for my valentine. I'm not interested in being a host for just any woman. Only for the one who has my heart."

"Why are you shirtless?"

"All the better to hug her with.

Just kidding."

"I was going to say - that's my teddy bear's line."

"This is clearly from before you cut your hair?"

"If anything, it's a modern AU where I didn't feel the need to cut my hair and I'm a waiter at a restaurant...where I'm hoping to see my favorite customer walk through the door and serve her."

"That still doesn't explain why you're shirtless."

Happy belated Valentine's Day/White Day, everyone!

That was the last Valentine/White Day reply. If you sent a Valentine within the submission period and you didn't get a White Day reply back because I accidentally missed it, please let me know ASAP so I can make you one!

About this comic - I was playing around with a rendering program to see if I could mix 3D with the game's artwork. Since I already had it up, I thought I might as well fulfill your Valentine kabedon request with it, @automaticcheesecakenacho! Hope you like it and don't mind the fact it was more 3D instead of straight 2D anime.

I also thought it might be a nifty bonus for Beauty and the War (X Playing Pieces) fans and that it'd be a nice way to end the White Day train of replies.

In the game, Arsenik will very likely have more of an anime/semi-realistic look, so don't expect to see this more realistic/3D one there. Otherwise, it'd clash with the renovated art style, which I'll show you a preview of here:

(Please note that it may be subject to further polishing in the future!) Here's (Present Day) Ambrosia! I remember showing my patreons another variation of this and asking them which style they prefer. This is the one that won!

(Speaking of which, you see that first panel of Arsenik in the comic above? My patreon family can look forward to seeing the full image of that one when I post an update for this month!)

Anyway, you can see that Arsenik's 3D model would not mesh well with this current art style. Perhaps his abs can be rendered that way, though.

Consider this your White Day treat, one that can help you visualize how Arsenik would look more realistically as well. (He has always been characterized as having a long face, slanting cheekbones, a straight nose bridge, and alluring blue eyes.) You also get a glimpse of his modern day fashion - the panels where he's wearing clothes, that is. I promise he doesn't walk shirtless in public for no reason...like a certain somebody.

Either way, this was fun. Here's hoping it'll put some spring in your step for the start of spring!

Have a Happy White Day!