#it's still a pretty rough draft

[theegh0st]

[ganondoodle]

a panel from the rough draft that i like alot (hes catching hylias punch with his own hand, in case its too scribbly to see)

(comic wip)

[grimm-the-tiger]

Apparently I'm turning this drawing into a whole animatic now.

[squidlykitten]

Love of the Leviathan

Chapter 1: Hunger

It was hunger that called him upwards, out of the comforting darkness that he had made his home. Within the depths, there was little prey. Fewer still, with the pod's swelling numbers only multiplying ravenous mouths.

He tried not to care. He was an exile, the last of a line. The pod was no longer his concern.

It concerned him anyway.

His long body wound silently upwards, his movements gaining in strength as the weight of the ocean lessened and oxygen-rich water flowed through his gills. He allowed himself to exalt in it, taking pride in the power that coiled within him, in the rush of the swirling current that followed in his wake, sending pale shrimps spinning off in a helpless spiral, prey for smaller mouths than his.

He hunted food that was much bigger.

Warmer.

Crueler.

Their bodies were made up of flashfire and lies -- their teeth flat and dull yet still they went for the throat; their hands lacking claws and yet still sharp enough to cut away everything that had ever mattered; their lives short, insignificant, and dark-stained with blood.

Allies, once. Enemies now.

No, less than that.

They were prey.

It wasn't long before the pale columns of surface light became visible, a shining cathedral of oranges and blues dancing golden all around him. Within that golden light he saw it -- the dark void upon the water that signaled his prey was near, their thick, unwieldy berths a foreign thing upon his ocean, unwelcome things unnatural and blighted. He could taste them already. He could hear their screams.

Motherkillers.

Few other prey would serve.

The twin fires of anger and hunger fueled him as he rushed to the surface, his speed and momentum far too powerful for a fool thing like gravity to hold him.

He breached, tail streaming behind him like a ribbon, bronze scales flashing golden within the light of the dying sun. He took in a lungful of air and he sang, the sound ringing out in a knell that echoed across the sea, filling his senses until gravity, sputtering, took hold of him and the water swallowed him up once more.

He was Kajj.

He was Seabloom.

And he would have his scraps of revenge.

He spiraled downward in a haze of bubbles, the aeration sending him plummeting faster than their harpoons could follow, his body twisting in an expert dance that used the undulations of the water to his own advantage. While it had been centuries since he had walked among the surfacekind, he could still remember – water played tricks with the light, sending their weapons wayward. Only the strongest among them seemed to adjust, but even they could not touch him – sinuous and striking, these waters were his home. He was of them and in them, the seas’s great swells rushing through his gills, her gifts of oxygen a powerful love that sent him surging forward, growing stronger every moment he spent outside of the hadal depths. Throughout his life he had endured many of the Motherkiller’s attacks, but rarely had they ever managed to pierce his hide – foolish creatures, weakling things, whose weapons were no more than slivers to him, no more than seafoam breaking against his scales.

And yet, for all his dancing, arching, leaping, no spears fell among him. No dull retort of flashfire rang out into the sea. He circled the ship, ever-cautious, suspecting treachery or perhaps a new sort of trick. The Motherkillers were weaklings, but in their weakness they had become clever, become cruel. It was their wiles that had brought about Mother’s end, regardless of their strength. Hate them as he did, he knew better than to discount them. Not all strength was found at the point of a knife.

He breached once again and heard voices up above, their tones warm and sunlight things, though now twisted in anger. But not, it seemed, in fear. The water came up to meet him and he twisted and rolled, scraping claws once again along the belly of their great wooden beast, seeking to pierce their hull and sate his hunger. But no matter how deep he gouged, it seemed there was more wood beneath, their once flimsy craft made thicker, perhaps in anticipation of him.

Concerning. But it would not save them. He would show them terror. He would taste their fear. He could crush them as he was, take their hideous creation and crack it beneath his coils, but it was not enough, not by half, and it would sate only one of the hungers that burned in his chest.

It had been centuries since he had walked among their kind, but the power was within him still, surging through his veins.

It was the heartbeat of the ocean.

It was the breath of his lungs.

He pulled for it, drawing himself inwards, long coils becoming denser, hands sharper – bones cracking beneath the weight of the sea, nothing more than a rock born of it, shaped by it, the pain and the heat and the light and the blood, reshaped in her image, reshaped in her power.

He slammed up against the hull, larger to him now but just as fragile, claws sinking deep into its artificial flesh as he began to climb, pulling himself along its ledge. The Motherkillers thought they could hide from him, thought a few extra layers of wood could keep them safe from the singing edge of his claws, as if frail surface kindling could do anything to keep out the surge of the brine, could keep him from reveling in the hot spill of their blood down his front.

The only warmth he needed now. The only warmth he sought.

He was nearly to the surface when something new was dropped into his domain, plummeting quickly towards the depths.

He startled and fled downwards, anticipating flashfire and a dull, aching retort and yet--

None arrived.

The object continued to plummet, shrouded in foam, dragged downwards by what appeared to be a weight, fastened to it by chains. He followed it, curious about this strange development, but not idiot enough to close the distance between them. The flashfire of the humans had began to take on new and more powerful forms of late, but none, he thought, like this. He watched as the haze began to clear and he saw not a weapon, not flashfire but... one of the Motherkillers themselves.

Wide, blue eyes met his own in a flash of an instant, startling bright until the moment the dark waters swallowed them whole.

[thorns-and-rosewings]

Sooo did I mention that in my AU Solar Flare ends up staying as one of the AI's in Seraphim Eclipse's computer?

Yeah, he gets pulled out of Canon Eclipse's head and put into the computer. Seraphim Eclipse offered to build him a body, but SF was just like "No. Thank you. I am good."

He's pretty chill with his newfound situation from the get go. With a little bit of tweaking he becomes the AI in charge of a good portion of the Pizzaplex defense systems. He becomes very loyal to Seraphim Eclipse. Which just pissed off Canon Eclipse all the more...

He and MXES actually just kinda chill a lot. As MXES is still mute but in spite of this Solar Flare can understand him completely... They are just kinda besties after a point.

...First time drawing MXES and I think he came out a little better than Solar Flare did. Although this was really was an excuse to test my brushes. I am not overjoyed at how this came out but for a test, I think it could have been a lot worse 😅

[meownotgood]

THAT'S 60,000 WORDS LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOO!!

[thevioletcaptain]

so i got some really great feedback on the final draft of my star trek strange new worlds spec and i'm hoping i can ride that high through next week when i'm starting my second-last class in the tv writing program. mostly posting this so i have documented proof that i am in fact a good screenwriter so that when i inevitably start second guessing myself i have a post to beat myself over the head with.

[miscellaneous--bones]

posting this year's summary of art a little early because the one i picked for december is fine and all the months i am disappointed by are too old to do anything about. gonna stick my old ones under the cut cuz idk how else to find them on my blog rn

template is by latrotilla on DA

[mimicteruyo]

The next time I post a multichapter, odds are I won't have the penultimate draft of the entire thing on the ready. We'll be way closer to working chapter by chapter*, baby!

(*I won't start posting before I have a FUNCTIONAL draft of the entire thing because omg)

[bereft-of-frogs]

I wrote a longer and more overwrought version of this post when I was slightly drunker (yay distillery book club) but the shorter, more sober-clarity version is: it's so ridiculous that about 50% of my current fandom experience is based on things that are now 25 years old (thanks for the reminder, lucasfilm) and yet I'm terrified of being left behind because I 'can't move on' from something that is now barely 5 years old

you could probably attempt to make some sort of sweeping statement about this, like the lifespan of media now versus the early 00s, but what it's really about is my own issues with abandonment which is affecting both my ability to move on (I really struggle with the 'crew breaks up between installment thing', always have) and also the general fear of behind left behind, rather than any real trends in fandom as a whole

ok I think that's enough for superb owl sunday

[risingsoleil]

Trick or Treat! Share a snippet, headcanon, art, or vibes with your followers, then pass it on. 🎃🍬

Happy Halloween, anon! I will provide two gifts for this spooky season.

Snippet for the next The Other Side of Heaven chapter:

“Are you happy?” 

“I’m…fine.” 

“Sounds half-half.” 

Lin grumbled at the back of her throat. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to lie to herself. “I’m not unhappy. I got what I wanted. I became a police chief and now I protect Republic City.” 

“Is it what you wanted though?” 

“I…I don’t know,” Lin admitted quietly. “I don’t think I ever really asked myself what I really wanted. I had a goal and that was my motivation.” 

“Hmm.” 

“Did you want kids before?” 

“Initially, no.” 

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Tenzin once told me that I could make different choices. Of course, I rolled my eyes at him. And then he said that I could heal myself by being the mother I wanted as a child. So I did my best.” 

“…Do you…are you happy?” 

“No, I’m gonna kill them for pulling this stunt and expecting me to be okay with it.” 

Lin shared a rueful chuckle. 

“I am. And look, I know having kids isn’t everything nor is it for everyone. You don’t need to have them to feel fulfilled.” 

“Yeah…” Lin swallowed the lump in her throat, covering her eyes with a hand. “I could have made different choices though.” 

“They talk about you all the time.”

“About what a pain in the ass I am.” 

“They made a shrine for you."

Headcanon: Tenzin once gifted Lin a book that he made. It's a list of reasons why he loves her and love affirmations. Some pages also include doodles and his level varies. A few are puppies the way he drew them as a child bc Lin thought it was silly, while others are quick sketches of them sitting together under a peach blossom tree. Lin reads it when he's gone for business trips so that she can smile to herself and not have his goofy face watching her.

~Bonus HC~ Tenzin also created one for each of his children with Lin

Thank you for the ask, anon! 💖

[magpies-gold]

I swear, no one in my story gets threats of hospitalization and/or imminent demise levelled at them quite as often as Heinrich.

[roseatedramon]

for my creature collector I decided to update some of my old fakemon for it and I just revamped my oldest and honestly incredibly happy about the result…

so here’s concepts for revamped kitsery and puzzlynx!

Here’s old Kitsery for comparison, don’t have anything for old Puzzlynx (I do vaguely remember old concepts I made for it and I remember being very lost on how to go about its design):

[bmpmp3]

(falls to the floor holding my head in my hands) i can't keep making all my ocs the same vaguely eastern european vaguely indo carribean mixed race guy i cant keep doing this

(looks up. eyes glowing red. levitating with unknown power) or can i..................................................

[swordsonnet]

unstoppable force (my desire to write) meets immovable object (my chronic illness)

[hellsbeenbettersincehesplit]

next chapter of shifting is in the works! This one’s gonna be the longest yet :3