#oftentimes it makes me wish that i still drew like that because it's so fun

[bobomcfoe-art]

I've been looking at older art, here's some of my favorites of mine :) they're ordered from oldest to newest, with ages being 2-4 years old

Talking about each drawing beneath the cut

Row 1, left: October 2020 - based on a model on pinterest, probably

Row 1, right: February 2021 - design based off that moodboard - I thought it was very cute at the time

Row 2, left: July 2021 - was experimenting with a more chibi art style

Row 2, right: January 2022 - drawing of Enn, and older OC

Row 3, left: February 2022 - playing furry telephone with some friends

Row 3, right: May 2022 - self portrait

Row 4, left: July 2022 - a character i drew with the prompt "ocean unicorn warrior"

Row 4, right: September 2022 - redraw of an ooooold drawing

[bluemoonbeam15]

Hey, so I saw this video and it got me thinking. What if the reason Hopper bullies the ants for food so much is because he molted into a locust during a time of famine? Maybe his family didn’t have anything to eat and he had to do anything he could to stay alive? What if because of this change he’s always hungry, and that causes a lot of his outbursts? That poor bug. If Flick knew maybe he would’ve shown him more mercy or reached out.

https://youtu.be/uURqcI08IC4

^That’s the vid.

This is actually the first time I've been introduced to the differences between a locust and a grasshopper. For a long while, I assumed they were two different species in the same genus or family.

After watching the video and doing more research, it turns out the only defining difference between them is their psychological state. A grasshopper is only defined as a locust when it is surrounded by others of its kind and it essentially "panics" and grows manic and savage. That's why locusts are known for wreaking havoc on crops, it's like a manic episode for them.

This manic state happens when the sensory glands on the grasshopper's hind legs are rubbed constantly over a period of 4 hours. So, when they are surrounded by more due to famines, that spot is getting rubbed and it drives them crazy.

In comparison, it's similar to how a cat will oftentimes bite when you scratch that spot at the base of its tail. That spot is actually a sensitive gland that, when touched, overstimulates the cat's senses.

Based on my research, the molting that transpires during this psychological change is because of the stressful environment of being overcrowded. Kind of like how people themselves will lose more hair when stressed or a lot of animals shed their fur when facing anxiety. It's a consequence of the circumstances more than a method of adaptation.

That being said, I tried researching to see if locusts could go back to being grasshoppers, or essentially reverse that psychological state. And, unfortunately, came upon controversial answers. It's one of those, yes and no type questions.

This means I get to interpret the information however I want! XD

So for this short story, I'm going to be assuming that the psychological state can be reversed when they are distanced from the other grasshoppers (locusts). However, because they have already been in that manic state, Hopper and Molt find themselves in dangerous territory where the glands on their legs are much more sensitive. Meaning, they have a higher chance of reverting back to that manic state if they are too stressed.

Additionally, I'm twisting it a little bit from what we see in the movie. Now that these glands are more sensitive, the brothers are prone to be driven into a deeper manic state than what they were initially in. Especially Hopper, who was shown in the movie to be more on edge compared to his brother. Thumper's mentality is a prime example of this deeper state. So, Hopper and Molt -- mainly Hopper, but Molt must also tread lightly -- can easily be coaxed into that savage state if the glands are rubbed.

<><><><><><><><><>

"Come on! You'll have a great time, I promise!" Flik tugged on Hopper's arm. It was times like these he wished he weighed even half of what Hopper did.

The grasshopper didn't have to resist much. "Kid, I don't think that's such a good idea," he scratched the back of his neck.

Flik dramatically groaned, "But everyone will be there! Do you realize how often the Monarchs throw a huge party like this? Every ten years! This is our chance to meet them in person! The Monarchs, Hopper!"

"Yeah, no, I get it, really...but it's really just not my scene," Hopper unclasped Flik's hands from around his arm and stepped back. "You can go without me. The Circus Bugs are going aren't they?"

The ant gave a defeated huff, "Well, yeah..."

"Well there ya go," Hopper shrugged and nudged Flik toward the entrance of his room, "You'll have the time of your life. Go and enjoy yourself."

Flik spun around, "But it won't be the same! It's just for the night, Hop."

He sighed, "Flik--"

"Please?" The ant drooped his antennae back, lip quivering and eyes doleful. It was the most pitiful thing Hopper had laid eyes on.

His resolve lasted about five more seconds before he dropped his head, "Alright, fine...I'll go."

Flik laughed in victory, "You won't regret it!" He pulled Hopper with him down the tunnel.

"I highly doubt that."

____________________

The lightning bugs were flashing around, creating a mystical ambiance. Flik was awed at the plethora of species dancing and conversing with each other. The Monarchs held their celebrations in The City, which seemed fitting for a social creature.

Unfortunately, some of the creatures there weren't exactly social...

Flik laughed as Heimlich immediately zoned in on the food table, clearing a wide path among the crowd. "See Hop? Isn't this great?" His question wasn't answered. "Hop?" He looked around behind him, pinpointing the grasshopper a ways off.

Hopper tried staying calm, biting his lip unconsciously. There were just...so...many...insects. So much noise and racket. Where was Molt when he needed him? Lucky idiot made the excuse of helping Dr. Flora restock her infirmary. Now here he was. Why didn't he just say no? All the voices seemed as if they were blaring in his antennae.

"--op?" He blinked his eyes open, not realizing he'd squinted them closed. Flik was looking up at him worriedly, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," Hopper gave a wavering smile, "Just...enjoying the view," his heart felt like bursting from his chest at the sight. Everyone was just inches from each other...swarming the area.

Flik, in all innocence, gave an encouraging smile, "Well come join the fun! You can't enjoy yourself just standing here!" He went behind the grasshopper and nudged him forward.

Hopper jumped back when another insect brushed against him, "Wait, Flik! This isn't--"

Another insect bumped into them, apologizing offhandedly before moving along. Flik was small enough to not worry too much about the overcrowding. He lived in a colony for goodness' sake. Hopper felt the world spinning around him as more insects kept sliding past. To any other insect, the faint brushes of their wings against their leg would have passed them by. For Hopper, it felt like lightning jolting through his body at every touch.

While everything blurred around him, the sound of Flik calling his name was becoming white noise. A scream pierced through the chaos of his senses.

"Everyone watch out!"

"Be careful!"

"What's wrong with it?"

Flik was pulled back by the arm just as a claw sliced the air in front of him. Gypsy pushed Flik back cautiously. He stared wide-eyed at his friend, "W-What's happening?"

Hopper was doubled-over, clawing at his head momentarily before lashing out at the closest bug to him. A dragonfly fell back trying to get away, "It's gone savage!" she screamed and scrambled back into the crowd. Everyone started panicking and pushing to put distance between them and the grasshopper.

"Hopper! Are you okay?" Flik stepped forward, but Gypsy kept him back.

The grasshopper flattened his antennae baring his teeth at Flik and stalking toward him. His pupils were dilated, wings flared out, and breathing manic. Flik swallowed and shakily called out again, "Hop?"

Like a blur, Hopper lunged forward with claws sheathed. The crowd dispersed in a panic. Gypsy moved Flik behind her protectively, "Dim! Rosie! A little help over here!"

She closed her eyes shut as Hopper snarled and came inches from her face. A heavy thud directed her attention to the rhino beetle beside them. Rosie was perched on his back, working quickly to shoot her webbing around the grasshopper. Hopper tried cutting through the material but it wound tightly around his arms, immobilizing him.

"Man, what the heck happened?" Francis and the others dared walking up to Hopper, earning a hiss in response. "He...he's acting kinda like Thumper."

Flik stepped out from behind Gypsy, keeping his eyes focused on Hopper, "Hop? What's wrong buddy?" He yelped when the grasshopper snapped his jaws toward him. "Th-That's not Hopper..."

Gypsy put an arm around Flik's shoulders, "Let's take him back to the colony. Maybe Dr. Flora knows what's wrong."

_______________

"Goodness! I-I can't say I have anything of use," Flora frantically searched through her herbs. Hopper was on the floor still wrapped in the webbing, his back pressed against the rock-slab bed.

Molt walked in with some supplies in his arms, catching sight of the others, "Oh, you guys are back early!" His smile dropped when he saw his brother. "Hop!" the supplies were quickly forgotten about. Molt slid to the ground beside his brother, "Aw, Hoppy, I knew that party was a bad idea."

"You know what's wrong with him?" Francis tossed a seed at the grasshopper's head, making him snarl and push against his binds.

"It was probably 'cause o' the crowd," Molt cautiously brushed Hopper's antennae back, ignoring the growls. "The stress can make grasshopper's go savage."

Francis snorted, "Stress?"

"Well, yeah," Molt shrugged. "That and...say, were there a lot o' bugs swarmed together?"

Flik blinked, "Yeah, it was a party."

"Did he run into anyone? Or brush against anyone?"

Slim rolled his eyes, "The place was so crowded you couldn't take one step without touching someone."

Molt hummed, "Well that's why he went savage. We grasshoppers have a gland on our legs that's sensitive to touch. It's overstimulating and drives us crazy." Tentatively, he drew a claw over Hopper's leg, making the grasshopper squirm and growl from the sensation. "It's a survival tactic for when there's no food. We'll join a swarm of grasshopper's that will trigger those sensations and drive us to find food."

Flik felt a bit braver to sit down beside Hopper, "Is that why you guys were in a gang? For survival?"

"Yeah, a drought hit us bad at our old home and we were forced to find others to get food."

The ant looked back at Hopper, taking in his demeanor. Was Hopper savage back then? He certainly hadn't acted this wild. But he was definitely on edge. He was just...hungry. Starving, actually. Driven on fear for his own survival.

Gypsy kneeled down in front of Hopper, "Well, I can't do much for that gland. But I do know how to relieve stress." She forced her thumbs beneath his jaw to keep him from biting, pushing her other fingers against the back of his head. "There's a pressure point called 'the gates of consciousness' that helps relieve stress." She carefully pressed down on the back of his neck.

A deep shudder coursed his body before going limp. Gypsy felt his jaw relax and she slowly drew back, lifting his head up, "Alright, Dear, let me see." He blinked his eyes open groggily. They were back to normal from what she could see, "There we go. How are you feeling?"

Hopper groaned, "What...What happened?"

"You went a bit...feral, Dear," Gypsy sat back as Hopper took in his surroundings.

"Feral?" Everything began returning to him. He remembered the party, the lights, bugs, crowding, touching...

He shuddered at the memories, "My head hurts," he groaned.

Gypsy rubbed his temple and began cutting through the webbing, "I can imagine. We'll get you some poppy seeds to sleep it off." Dr. Flora was already getting the medicine together.

Flik wrung his hands together, "I'm sorry, Hopper. I shouldn't have pressured you into going. Why didn't you tell me this would happen?"

"What was I supposed to say?" Hopper gave a mirthless laugh, "I'd go savage if anyone touched me? Yeah, I don't think you would've believed me."

Dr. Flora handed Gypsy a few poppy seeds. "Here, eat these," she placed them in his hand. Hopper took them and laid his head back against the bed. She patted his knee and stood, "You get some rest, Dear. That headache should be gone by morning."

Flik hesitated, "I hope you're not mad."

"Me?" Hopper peeked an eye open. Flik nodded, "Why would I be mad? You didn't know, kid. On the bright side, I got to leave early," he chuckled.

Flik laughed a bit too, "Yeah, and I won't force you to go to another party again. I promise."

Hopper squinted, pinching his fingers, "I'll go to small parties, how about that? And just with our friends."

The ant grinned, "Works for me."

[janeyseymour]

Dessert For Breakfast

I’ve decided to continue with this little SiX/Waitress crossover, so uh, here you go?? 

prompt: ooo i'm so glad to see that people are liking the jane and jenna story :') i can't wait to see what you write next! what if bo gets sad at the time jane spends with the pomatters. less in a mom/daughter way (personally i see bo and jane as close friends like abby and andrea would be) but more like jane is slipping away. jane is still around and ALL the queens hangout at least once a week so it's not like anything has really changed. it's a shift in the ~vibe~ ahfkjajf if that makes sense

I’m not quite sure that my brain did what it was supposed to over even really followed the prompt all that much, but I hope you still enjoy it? 

Since beginning to nanny for the Pomatter-Hunterson household, Jane had grown quite fond of the family. Oftentimes, long after the day’s work was done, the blonde hung around with the three.

Not much had changed in reality. The other five queens were usually out of the house during the times where Jane was watching Lulu. It’s just that every once in a while, the second queen would walk into the house expecting a home cooked meal to be on the table like it so often was only to be met with a silent household. The third queen would rush into the house mere minutes later apologizing profusely about how “Lu kept begging me to stay for dinner. I couldn’t say no to that sweet little face,” or “Lulu was so excited to have all of us together. I couldn’t leave right when Jim and Jenna got home.”

It’s not that Anne was jealous of the six year old. No. Even she, as petty as the green queen could be, would not be jealous of a six year old. So, the second queen let her successor have her fun. If Jane was happy, well then so be it. She could wait another thirty minutes to eat. 

But more and more, the conversation with the blonde would turn into “Jenna said the funniest thing today,” or “Oh yeah! Jenna and I did this today,” and that’s what would drive Anne up a wall. 

Since being reincarnated and travelling on tour together before settling at their home in New York, Anne and Jane had a special bond. It wasn’t quite like a mother-daughter dynamic as the avid fans of the show made it out to be; they were just exceptionally close friends. Regardless of who Jane was with, her mothering tendencies were bound to shine at some point; it just happened to be that she was out with her predecessor a lot. 

“Oh! Jenna and I-” Jane began.

“Would you shut up about Jenna? I get it! She’s great, she’s your new best friend, blah blah blah,” Anne snapped.

“What?” Jane was visibly confused. Anne was her best friend, not Jenna. 

“All you do now whenever you're here now is talking about Lulu, Jim and Jenna. What about us Jane? What about me?” The second queen asked the last question rather quietly. She was a bit embarrassed to admit she felt this way.

“Annie,” Jane sighed gently, her tone immediately getting soft. “Is that how you really feel?”

“I-” Anne threw her arms up in exasperation. “I don’t know!”

“Honey,” Jane reached out towards her friend. “Is that really how you feel?”

“It’s just that you always used to be around whenever I wanted to do something. You’re not always now. I don’t know,” Anne looked up at the blonde. “Maybe I’m just being stupid. You deserve to have other friends. I’m sorry.”

“If I made you feel that you’re not my best friend anymore, I’m really sorry Annie. You’re always going to be my number one. I can do my best to be here more again.”

“No!” Anne shook her head. “I was being selfish. I guess I just got used to having you around all the time. If Jenna and Lulu make you happy, you should hang out with them. I can go vibe on my own.”

“What if,” Jane smiled at her thought. “On Saturday, we head over to Jenna’s diner and grab some breakfast pie?”

“Dude, really? You always say I can’t have dessert for breakfast.”

“I think I can make an exception this once. Her pies are literally to die for.”

“Yes!” Anne fist pumped. 

So that Saturday, the two walked down to Lulu’s Pies. 

“Oh hey Jane,” Jenna smiled from behind the cash register when she saw the blonde. 

“Jane!” Lulu came bouncing out from behind her mother. “Guess what! I have-” the little girl took in that Jane wasn’t by herself this time. “Oh my gosh! You’re the lady from the cafe! Thank you so much for that extra treat!”

Anne smiled. She didn’t think that her sneaking an extra treat into the young one’s bag would be remembered a month later. “Anne.” She grinned.

“I’m Lulu. This is my mama. Do you want a slice of pie? My mama makes the best pies in the whole world! Today’s special is In The Dark, Dark Chocolate pie.” Anne had to bite back a laugh. The pie’s name was so dirty, but hearing it come out of the six year old’s mouth with such innocence was adorable. “There’s also Wild, Wild Berry pie, or Mermaid Marshmallow. Or, Lulu’s Strawberry Dream pie. That one’s named after me! And guess what? I made it up!” Anne could see why Jane had grown so fond of the youngster.

“That would be awesome! Do you think you can pick the slice of pie for me?” Anne grinned. 

“Yeah! But, we gotta sit down first. We can sit in my booth!” Anne was pulled by Lulu to a small booth in the back of the diner. 

“Jane!” Lulu called. “Come on! We have some coloring to do! Mama even bought me new colored pencils!” 

“Go on hun. I can bring over your usual. Anything special for Anne?”

“Maybe some hot chocolate?”

“You got it. I’ll be over to talk. The others have it covered for a while.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Anne asked the little one. Lulu nodded excitedly. “Jane never lets me have sweets this early,” she stage-whispered as she saw the blonde approaching.

“She doesn’t let me either,” Lulu laughed. “Mama and Daddy don’t either. They say I gotta eat all my vegetables before I can have pie.” 

“You girls are already gossiping about me?” Jane laughed good-heartedly as she sat down across the booth that Anne and Lulu were occupying. 

“No!” Both girls' hands shot up in defense. The two had very similar tendencies. 

“I’m just joking, loves.” 

“Alrighty, I got a cup o’ Joe for Jane, and two hot chocolates.” Jenna laughed as she watched the younger girls’ eyes light up.

“Really Mama? I get to have hot chocolate this early?” Lulu asked excitedly.

“A sweet treat every once in a while doesn’t hurt babe,” Jenna pushed the drink towards her daughter. “Just be careful not to spill.”

“Jane told me you like hot chocolate?” Jenna pushed the other one towards the girl with space buns. 

“Yes. Thank you,” Anne’s energy shifted with the presence of the woman she was slightly jealous of. 

“No problem hun. I’m just gonna go grab the pies, and then would you mind if I joined y’all?” Jenna wandered away only to return seconds later with four slices of pie.

“So you’re Jenna.” Anne looked the brunette up and down.

“So,” Jenna sighed as she took a seat next to Jane. “You’re the one who sugared up my daughter?” She looked at Anne.

“Ma’am, I-” Anne started getting defensive.

“Love, she’s just joking,” Jane stopped the second queen before she could finish her sentence. 

“No, no, I don’t mind at all. It’s not every day a broadway icon gives your daughter an extra cookie because she had good manners,” Jenna smiled. Anne relaxed slightly at this. She was still a bit weary of the brunette.“I’m sorry if I came off as rude at first.”

“It’s alright.” Anne lifted the fork up to her mouth and took a bite. The second queen’s face went from neutral to a grin in mere seconds.“Holy-”

“Anne,” Jane interrupted.

“Holy moly this is great!” Anne dove into her slice of chocolate pie. “How did you do this?”

“It’s baked from the heart,” Jenna grinned.

“No, seriously! How did you-”

“Anne! Look! I drew us!” Lulu shoved a paper in the second queen’s face. 

“Wow! This is so good!” Anne complimented. 

“You can have it if you want!”

“I’ll make sure it goes in a very special place in my room. Do you think you could sign it for me?”

“Yes!” Lulu wrote her name down on the paper before handing it back to Anne. “It’s not that good, but Mama says with practice, my handwriting will get a lot better!”

“You know Lu, Anne used to sign things all the time! She was on Broadway with Jane. Isn’t that cool?” 

“You and Jane were on Broadway together?” Lulu looked up at her new friend with big eyes.

“Yep. Me and ol’ Janey-”

“Not old,” Jane interjected. 

“Me and ol’ Janey did a show together! It was a lot of fun!” 

“Not old!” Jane laughed once again.

“The show was amazing,” Jenna said earnestly. “You have a spectacular voice. I wish I had that kind of talent.”

“Thank you!” Anne let herself go. Maybe this woman isn’t so bad afterall, she thought.

“I’m serious Anne. Your voice is killer. And my husband had tears rolling down his face from laughing so hard at some of the things you said. You were amazing.”

“Thank you so much. This pie is amazing.” The green queen turned her attention to Jane. “Is this where you disappear to every Saturday morning?” Jane nodded sheepishly.

“What does she get?” Anne turned her attention to Jenna.

“She gets pie,” Lulu ratted out the blonde. 

“Jane!” Anne exclaimed. “You preach all of this stuff about eating healthy and ‘no dessert’ before our meals, and you sneak off and eat pie every Saturday for breakfast?” 

“No?” Jane’s voice went up an octave.

“Oh just wait until Aragon gets a load of-”

“If you don’t tell her, you can come with me,” the blonde offered.

“Annie! You should come!” Lulu jumped around.

“You’re always welcome to come hang out with us on Saturday mornings. I’ll have a nice hot cup of cocoa waiting for you,” Jenna enticed the woman.

“You got me with the hot chocolate.” Anne pointed at the brunette. “I like you. Feeding into my bad habits.”

“Let’s not make a habit of it.” Jane put her head in her hands.

“So, you got any dirt on ol’ Janey here?” Anne spoke through a mouthful of pie. 

“Sometimes Jane will bring me to the diner to visit Mama, and she’ll always have a slice of whatever the special is.”

“I like you kid,” Anne chuckled. “I got one. One time I caught her in the kitchen at like 3 in the morning baking cookies for herself. I was silenced with a promise of getting half the batch.”

“One time Mama was eating ice cream out of the container! She let me have some if I didn’t tell Daddy.”

“And you did anyway.” 

“He wasn’t mad Mama,” Lulu giggled.

“Not with you anyway,” Jenna muttered. “I got a stern talking to.”

The four spent the morning together laughing sharing different anecdotes about each other. Every once in a while, Jane and Jenna would make eye contact and smile. 

When Jane and Anne made their way out the door, Lulu smothered them both in hugs. 

“I’ll see you next week?” Lulu asked Anne expectedly. 

“For sure.” The second queen hugged the small girl tightly. “Thank you for my drawings.” Anne held up the several pieces of paper Lulu had gifted her with.

“If you guys are ever up for it, I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind if you came over for dinner one night,” Jane offered. 

“Oh, we wouldn’t want to impose.” Jenna waved her off.

“None of them will care,” Anne said. “Once they meet you guys, they’ll know why all Jane talks about is you guys anymore.”

“Oh?” Jenna’s eyebrows shot up. She didn’t know her family had been the talk of the house.

“All good things I promise,” Jane assured. 

“Just bring a couple pies, and you’ll have their hearts,” Anne joked.

“Noted.”

With promises of returning the following weekend, Jane and Anne made their way out of the diner, bellies full- and both with a slice of Mermaid Marshmallow pie. 

As they were walking, Anne admitted, “You know, I walked into that diner intending on hating Jenna.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t though.”

“That’s good love.”

“She’s real good at baking.”

“That she is.”

“And Lulu is adorable.”

“That she is.”

“Can they come over for dinner soon? I think they’d fit in well.”

“I think they would too.”

“Hey, did you know that you and Jenna look kind of similar?”

“Oh her husband has made it known that he thinks that for a while now.”

Turns out, Jane having another friend was also a good thing for Anne: she got free pie and hot chocolate every Saturday morning now.

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I hate to be That Guy but I feel like the interaction with Dave {or whatever the thing in Hell is} was leading up to something. It's likely too early to ask for elaboration but I have no impulse control and not enough dopamine so I'm going to not so vaguely indicate that I want to see more if there is more to see. If there has to be a cast perhaps Mangle, Toy Chica, Ballora and of course Springtrap. If it isn't that deep, I'm sorry I wasted your time! Have a good whatever time you read this at.

(Absolutely be That Guy™, I LOVE That Guy™! Though frankly, I feel like you’re overhyping this, while I do have a bit of story around, it’s no good. Ah, whatever, there’s only like- 35 more days of this stuff, so it doesn’t matter if I write myself into corners. All these drabbles are EXCLUSIVELY written with zero brain, but still, thank you very much for that request. While I would LOVE to make a drabble with that cast, because it’s a fun one that crawls into your office directly, it wouldn’t be that lore heavy. So instead these people are just going to be cameos. Also, jumping forward in time by a fair bit Warning for a fair bit of torture!)

Time didn’t work right here. Time passed, but it didn’t. Not at all. He was allowed to drink and occasionally eat in the saferoom, but… Everything that would be an temporal indicator was gone. No natural light, no physical change coming from this body- At least he was still breathing and bleeding, but that didn’t make it much easier to define the timeframe he was in. Over and over and over. The night started over and over and over. He was growing more and more sick of it. The only interesting thing left… … was dying. It gave him the chance to talk to the animatronics- and to get to know the someone who was behind this place. The one he shouldn’t have killed. It was such a peculiar title. So pompous, it must have been made up by a child. But who the hell could that be?! There had been too many kids. The only really noteworthy ones being Lucas and Charlie. Yet it didn’t see like they were here- A meeting with the Marionette had been enough to prove as much. The day the words “I don’t hate you” came from the dangly creature’s mouth was the day he would simply vanish from the universe. And Lucas? Lucas was too kind, too hesitant- he had preserved his gentle nature, fighting only when absolutely necessary. There was no way he would create an entire torture location. Hell, he had even tried to ask Scott, but he refused to talk about it. All he guaranteed was that it wasn’t him. No, no, it had to be a kid- everything about this place told him that. He knew how kids worked and what they liked. A baddie that attacked you killed you within a second just because you didn’t watch his show? Ludicrous. And no, he wouldn’t talk about Toy Freddy. Some of the animatronics had nothing of interest to say- But many did. The real bothersome point that had been standing out to him was how… actually friendly the machines were. Yes, they HURT him, but they called him a friend, cracked jokes and their attacks oftentimes seemed like mere petty retaliation… as if they didn’t really meant for any permanent harm. In a world where nothing left permanent harm, their retaliations became rather vicious. An exception were the nightmares, but it seemed to be in their nature. Henry made notes where he could, as well as getting used to their method of attack and torture. It was a double win- … … yet he hated it. It frustrated him to have to invite some of them in. It felt filthy. Death was something intimate. If someone killed you, there should be some sort of purpose, some sort of connection there. It was another mark you could leave on a person. There was something appalling about offering your body, regardless in what way. At least to him. Alas, his blood was the only currency still existing in this world and at least he got to pick and choose when he would be torn to pieces, most of the time. By now he had become good enough. Good enough. Barely. Impatiently he clicked his nails on the table, quickly putting on the mask as the room started flickering. Toy Chica peeked through his eyeholes, grinning. “… and? Who has the honor today, Henryyyy?” “Not you.” “Aw! How unfair!” She pouted, looking out of the doors, trying to spot Ballora, who both of them could hear moving in the back. “We had sooooo much fun last time! What? You want Ballora to-“ “You testing out your cannibalistic fantasies is not my definition of fun, dear. And no. I need to talk to someone else.” “Pft.” Pouting she moved away, slinking back into the vent on the ground. “Fine! Have fun I guess. Better not let me catch you without the mask! Because if I get to win, I get to win, no exceptions.” “There will be no problems with that.” Henry quietly sighed, taking off the old mask. It wasn’t even a Fredbear mask. For some reason it was one of the most disappointing things about this place. Ballora drew close and he carefully closed the door on her, trying not to interrupt her routine too much. Nothing ruined a good melody like the sound of stomping doors. Today he wasn’t worried about the power running out. It all stopped once one of them entered. Everything stopped once one of them entered. A rule. Many rules. And none of them made much sense. Again his nails tapped on the table, anxious and almost angry. Mangle was probably already caught in a vent-snare… … but William took far too long to get here. William. Dave. Davetrap. Never mind that. Finally, the bemused mask of the rotten bunny appeared in the vents, staring down at him. “… having fun?” “… Dave. Good to see you.” Henry stared up to him. “We need to talk.” “Eh… I dunno…” Playfully Dave began crawling back inside. “I’m not in the m-“ “You can come in.” Instantly he had ALL of Dave’s attention, even though he wished he didn’t. It was always a little uncomfortable to see William overly excited, and usually he knew what exactly it was about at least- he wasn’t sure about this one. He wouldn’t put it past William to be elated over the chance to hurt him. Without repercussions. “Really?” His one ear twitched as he stared down, transfixed. Predatory animals, with two of their eyes in front. Human always have been predator and prey at once and Henry had known it from the very beginning, he had seen it in himself and others. It was merely more apparent in William specifically, him and his unstrained behavior controlled by nothing but instinct. “Really.” And yet still- this place was a hellish mess and his mind was just as much of one- it reminded him of back then, when William was utterly excited about an event. ‘Is it actually happening? Really?!’ Really. Pleased Dave laughed, loudly. An ugly laugh when you were on the receiving end. “I told ya, Henry. I told ya you’d do it.” “… you know me well.” Quietly he watched Dave move out, swiftly and nimbly- “… and you seem to know this place too.” “Is that why ya let me in?” “… not only. But I might as well ask you while you are here, correct?” “Hm.” His eyes wandered over Henry’s body. Probably wondering which limb he should separate from his body first. Henry shuddered. Dave got comfortable in front of the office table, smiling. Everything else had gone quiet, the power not even being visible anymore- But the timer was. Midnight. Putting his feet on the table and leaning back on the little chair that he had gotten from who-knows-where, the cyborg grinned.”… alright then! I was worried you’d might be disappointed, since I don’t know anythin’ about this place!” “You do not?” “Nah.” “… then how did you get here?” “Uhhhhh, probably for the same reason you’re here?” “… but you did not DIE.” “I didn’t?” Frustrated the Pink Guy leaned back too, taking a deep breath. This wasn’t going anywhere. “… what is the last thing you remember?” Cheerfully Dave giggled. “I don’t remember anything! Never had any memory! Head empty!” Henry wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Dave liked messing with others- play-pretend stupidity that was aided by his genuine habit of being rather emotional- but they had spent far too much time together to have that work. “… I know you are lying.” Instantly the mood changed, even if Davetrap didn’t change the slightest bit about his pose. “Ah! Ya do? Or do ya just think ya do?!” Again he snickered. “Either way. I don’t know anythin’ that could be useful for you.” “Maybe I am not out for anything useful? Maybe I am simply worried about you and how you have gotten yourself into a suit?” Dave laughed, loudly, but Henry continued. “… do you need my help to get out of it?” “No.” It was cold. And Henry responded in kind. “… see that is how I know you are not down here for the same reason as me. So why are you here? Why would the one I should not have killed brought you here…? After all- you and me, we most likely killed him together.” Tilting his head slightly, the other guy inspected him and for a moment Henry tensed up, expecting to be attacked- but Dave simply relaxed, changing his pose, allowing his legs dangling over the side of the chair. “Hey, Henry! Did ya miss me?” All smiles and ice cream. “… it seems pretty lonely and borin’ in this office. And it feels like we haven’t talked in a long time…” For a moment the Pink Guy stayed quiet, watching the other one, who continued. “We’ve done so much fun stuff together! This place might not be all that bad if we stick together, right?” He paused. “That of course only means anythin’ if ya WANT to spend time with me. If ya miss me when I’m gone. So. Did you?” Slowly Henry stretched his fingers. “… of course I missed you, Dave.” Both of them watched each other, the air prickling. Then, once more, Dave was laughing again. “That’s why I like you, Henry. You can do such pretty things with your mouth and mind. Sayin’ JUST the right things. I always love when you talk to me. Or about me. Everything you say is like a charm, making things so much better than they actually are. The thing is- Henry- with a gift like that, I can’t ever know if ya MEAN it.” Leaning in, Davetrap inspected him, his big, white eyes almost all-consuming. “… if ya missed me, how come you’ve spent time with anybody but me recently? Ya invited plenty of people into the office. Despite knowing I was the one asking POLITELY for it.” Ridiculous. … yet Henry had to play along. “Please, remain calm my friend. I was talking to them first, because I was gathering intel. Last time I was not informed enough, and you seemed… displeased. Was I incorrect?” It was amazing how much emotion this mask could still show. Just below the rotting maw, the little shine, a grin and not a fun one, judging by how it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have an excuse for everything, don’t you Henry?” “Or perhaps I am simply being genuine and elaborate on my feelings and decisions as you ask me. You on the other hand seem rather hostile today. Would you like to explain why you are so aggressive towards me?” Both of them looked at the other, and while they couldn’t walk in that perfect circle that pacing and threatening humans always seem to fall into, their bodies still conveyed the same. Then, once again, Dave tilted into the other direction, his large ear following suit, smiling. “Aggressive? I ain’t aggressive, Henry! I’m just curious! Quit bein’ so tense all the time!” Slowly losing his patience, Henry rubbed his temples. “Okay, then. I do believe you are at least partially real. But logically you must have arrived from a different timeline than me, one where you died and got put into a suit. Why would you be so mad at me however?” Standing up from his chair, Dave slowly moved over, as Henry turned as far to the side as he could to keep an eye on him. “Ya need a massage, Henry.” “You know I dislike to be touched.” “Welp, is it MY fault you’ve made yourself so tense that you now need a massage?!” Offended the animatronic stopped, leaning down to him. Smelling like oil and peppermint. “Ya really should let me do what’s best for ya.” That WAS a threat. … at least if this thing snapped his neck, it would be quick, painless and unpersonal. Slowly and quietly Henry breathed out. “… alright then, Dave. Please continue.” Yet, even if he had made the agreement, didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous about it. When the fuzzy fingers touched his shoulders he almost jumped, drawing another, somewhat sadistic chuckle out of his former friend. “It’s funny to see ya like this.” “I live to entertain.” Yet another chuckle. “… ya sure do.” The fingers starting massaging, digging themselves into and against the muscles causing Henry barely anything else but pain. Sure- him tensing up his shoulders didn’t help at all, but he couldn’t react any other way, the impulse to tense up was simply bypassing his brain. The other man behind him was simply humming his favorite melody. In the hall of the mountain king. “… remember when I taught you how to play it?” Trying to relax Henry began reminiscing. “Hmmm… yeah! That was fun! I dunno why people didn’t try to teach me an instrument before that, I think I would have really loved learnin’ it. Good that I met you!” “Indeed. Good that you met me.” … there was discomfort, a genuine feeling of worry. Fear? Was this fear? A fear not caused by the direct expectation of physical harm, but instead by- By what? He was probably just- not really comfortable with the thought of not having William in his grasp anymore. William was like him- and that was why he liked and why he despised him. Whatever came into William’s head, he would do and there was nothing Henry could do to prevent it. Part of him would be somewhat relieved if Dave just- murdered him right here and fast. … giving up so early wasn’t really his thing however. “Will- Dave.” “Yeah?” The guy was still squishing and mushing away at Henry’s shoulders, seemingly not caring THAT much about actually relaxing his friend. “What’cha want?” “… I only wanted to ask… do you like it here?” For a minute or so Dave paused, really thinking about it. “It ain’t the worst. I get to play with ya, no fuzz, no more havin’ to try and shut down Freddy’s or kill kiddens.” Slowly his focused back on Henry, his next words deliberate. “… don’t ya think so? Immortality and animatronics, what’s not to love? Sure, the torture is a lil’ sucky, but hey, ya said you’d do ANYTHING to become immortal.” Something scraped over the back of Henry’s mind. Was Dave being manipulated to comply? Sold a false image of perfection? … or was he simply trying to torment him, trying to fool him into thinking that he ever asked for this? Either way. Leaning back, Henry tried to look at him, choosing his next words carefully. “… while I appreciate my robotic works being with me and having no reason to fear death- I do dislike the repetitive loop at the unending threat of pain. I feel… bored. Do you not sometimes wish for variety?” “Everythin’ is a loop, Henry. Ya gotta be happy with the loop you get stuck in.” “… you need more ambition, Dave. Accepting and endless repetitive cycle is almost as low as accepting death. There is no perfection to be found in remaining with the same variables.” Dave sighed and retracted his hands, causing Henry to sit up straight. “It’s fine. It’s fine. You’ll never be happy.” “Excuse me?” “… what would ya still want, Henry? What is it that you’re lookin’ for right now?” “I-“ Shortly Dave leaned over to check the clock. “Whoops! Five AM.” Pleased he turned his head to Henry, who had stood up as well, trying to get some distance between them. “Ya know the rules! I’m inside, I gotta… keep ya busy. Give you a bit of a slap around.” “You will hurt me.” Henry’s voice was blank. He wasn’t really surprised. But the Springbonnie just shrugged. “Oh, well- I never said I wouldn’t. I said I’d help ya. Which I will!” Taking out his array of tools, from within the damaged parts of the suit. Of course Henry was familiar with them. Acid spray, a tool with sharp edges to scoop anything out, knives, a tool to part the tissue when needed- Cleaning. Disinfecting. Getting out an infestation. The psychopath was giggling to himself, as he sat the things down, Henry suppressing his desire to run away with all his strength. No point to it. It only would serve to make him look pathetic. More pathetic than he already was, in this senseless situation. “Ya know, I’m really happy I get the chance! Ya said ya were the Lord of the Flies… but you gave me the tools to get all the crawlers out. What will happen to ya? Will you be purified? Or simply emptied completely? Do ya think hell is there to make people into better versions of themselves?” No answer. He sighed, signing towards the chair. “Sit down again, Henry. I’ll make sure ya won’t die! Not even for a moment. You will see this procedure through to the end…” No escape. He knew the procedure. The body needed to be cut open, like an autopsy. This would lead to plenty blood going everywhere- William had never been a surgeon. Too impatient, too jumpy, too- careless. But after all, he didn’t try to put it back together- he wanted to clean it, fast and efficient. The stomach and intestines were first, cut open and then the lining was being scooped off. The stomach had nerves. Some of the rest of the organs thankfully didn’t. Eyes too, eyes had to go. The tongue as well- and then acid would be pushed up the nose, letting it sit there, Dave believing it would clean out the brain before he would have to drill into it. You would have to deal with less of a swarm exiting the brain like that. But before that? Heart and lungs. William was obsessively exact and radically reliable in how he did this section. He believed he had to be. There were no bugs crawling, no insects nesting in pockets of rotting flesh. But Henry doubted William cared. Nor did he himself care, as the all-consuming pain purged thoughts first- And mercifully, eventually, the life itself too.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of TAMORA. Admin Rosey: Trinity is one of the characters that I had the most fun writing -- she very much evolved from my initial concept with her and has grown into this very independent entity that needs someone just as strong as she is to portray her. Writing her isn’t an easy task, nor is capturing the nuances of her character while maintaining a circumspect view of who she has the potential to become. Julie, I honestly don’t know how, but you managed to do all that and more. Trinity is very much welcome to step on all of Verona’s neck. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Julie

Age | 19

Preferred Pronouns | She/her/hers

Activity Level | 6/10, I think, with replies coming every other day - we can only hope.

Timezone | MST

Current/Past RP Accounts | Santino + Loretta

In Character

Character | Tamora / Trinity Zakarian

What drew you to this character? | Am I allowed to say everything? From her past, her present, to her potential future, I think everything about Trinity just absolutely fascinates me. The deliberate choices she has to make in her every day life just to walk among other people and be perceived as what she wants them to see is so interesting. It’s not necessarily just a woman performing for a nonexistent audience repeatedly because she feels she has to. It’s more of someone who could be perceived as almost otherworldly performing for an audience that is watching her, at all times. Trinity pulls the strings to her own marionette and is fully aware of that.

There’s always some sort of purpose behind what she does: she smiles half an inch wider because she knows that people will find the way it tugs at the line of her face more familiar. She stands with her spine rimrod straight because that’s what comforted her mother most when she looked at Trinity like she was some sort of animal in her own home. She stabs her wife thirteen times in the chest because she knows it will allow for a shallow mockery of the last few moments she had with her son. Verona is a city full of Gods, people worth revering, and Trinity chooses not to worship them time and time again. She has no feelings of reverence towards Cosimo, or Damiano, or even Fortinbras, even if he’s the one who originally brought her here, and if she ever were to feel that way, she’d choose to stamp them out under her heel.

There’s also the matter of this concept of warmth and humanity that Trinity feels is fully out of reach for her. She’s tried time and time again to connect in the way other people can and just can’t; she got a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, for some time. Maybe she held it in her hands for a little while before dropping it when she gave birth to her son. What happened to Alyosha is tragic, without a doubt, and it hurts my heart just to think about it. I think Trinity’s played those last few moments over and over in her head to see if she can pin down the exact moment she went from a woman to a corpse all over again. I think it’s interesting that Trinity knows wires have crossed at some point which shouldn’t have been crossed, and something that’s not supposed to be firing is sparking anyways. She’s sought out human connection over and over, and it seems to slip between her fingers every time. I’d love to explore that more thoroughly.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | 

LET THIS WASP NOT OUTLIVE, US BOTH TO STING: Trinity's good at hiding; that much is obvious. She can mask even the ugliest of emotions with relative ease; making people think she's something she's not isn't a difficult feat. In Titus Andronicus, Queen Tamora bides her time by marrying Saturninus to save her own skin and get revenge. In sort of the same vein, I can see Tamora either going undercover in the Capulets somehow or forming a relationship of some kind with one of them to provide leverage over the Capulets for the Montagues. She's only just re-arrived in Verona, but like her bio says, her roots already run deep into the soil by the time February’s arrived. She's got nothing to lose and plenty to gain; donning a veil of warmth and affection towards a Capulet for whatever they'll give her in return could go far. And if she ends up reaching into their chest to claim their heart for her own, all the better: she craves warmth like roses crave the sun in the heat of summer.

TITUS, I AM INCORPORATE IN ROME, A ROMAN NOW ADOPTED HAPPILY: Faron brought Trinity to Verona with a purpose, and that purpose in my mind was likely to use her actions to vault himself to a position of power. But Faron is dead, and any motivations for his relationship with Trinity are buried with him. She can't speak with the dead, as much as she wishes she could some nights, if only to hear her son's voice. She has no skill in divining the future. This really depends on the direction of the game and what the other players on the table, but in the hands of Gertrude, Antony, Laertes, or even Romeo, I feel she has the potential to help turn the tides for the Montagues in the same way she did for Faron. There’s no love lost between Fortinbras and Tamora—give her the opportunity to claim what she wishes, and she’ll bark for someone as much as she’ll bite.

THRICE NOBLE TITUS, SPARE MY FIRST BORN SON: This one is a little far out there, so please bear the fuck with me. Trinity, if she were to ever discover just what Vivianne did to her own son (who, keep in mind, when abandoned was the same age as Alyosha when he died), would set her sights on Vivianne and wouldn't stop until she felt satisfied. Whether that means Vivianne's death, or throwing a big enough wrench into her plans that she falters in the face of Cosimo, Trinity's willing to take whatever opportunities are presented to her. This sort of goes in-hand with wanting to explore just how deeply Alyosha's death has impacted her; I don't think Trinity's ever looked it head-on in the mirror, and confronting Vivianne might finally give her the chance to see in herself what everyone else has over the course of the last year and a half.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Let her reunite with the one person she truly cared about :)

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

TW FOR MURDER

The claiming of Hotel Emelia is a droll affair, in much the same way she’d expected it to be. It’s also a quick one: from the time she and Ronan are approaching the front desk to waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the top floor and look for those who might remain, it takes twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour. The elevator lets out a soft ding to indicate it’s reached its final destination.

There are only two guests on this floor, but it doesn’t stop Trinity from reveling in the way the attendant shakes as she unlocks each and every door with the master key. They all creak open, slowly, to reveal nothing but a dark room and some neatly-made beds. Ronan’s shaking with barely-restrained excitement and impatience by the time they reach the end of the hall.

“You want to get done, Richard. You have plan, after this, hm? Usually you go slow.” she asks, as the woman with SOFIA on her name-tag trembles so much she nearly drops the key. Trinity watches as Ronan presses the end of his M22 closer to her spine, harshly enough to make her jump.

“I’ve got some house calls to make, Tamora,” he tells her, like that explains why he’s rushing through this with a near primordial if not sadistic focus. It doesn’t matter. He’s a bizarre specimen, even among the Montagues, same as she -- it’s why they’re the perfect pair for this sort of task. The door clicks open. This room is not empty like the others; the lamp on the desk is on, and the shower is running in the bathroom. 

She looks over her shoulder: “I’ll take it. You can cut chaff from rest of wheat. Be good.” When she shoots him a pointed look, he shrugs, but chooses not to say a word. Wise of him.

She enters the room, closes the door behind her. It makes a sound close to a whisper when it thuds shut, and it’s only when Trinity can hear Ronan limping away with the clerk’s tapping footsteps just ahead that she proceeds. With one hand she reaches for her knife, and the other for the bathroom handle. It opens, she’s pleased to discover. Steam rushes past her as she encroaches further.

Whoever it is in the shower, they’ve got their back turned towards the spray, a hand running through their hair. She reaches out, black painted nails grasping the shower curtain -- and smiles in outright delight when the man behind it screams loudly enough to be heard for miles.

The first time she’d ended someone’s life with a knife and nothing more, Trinity’d been shocked to discover just how easy it was. There had been no resistance. By now, it’s almost mundane, like chopping vegetables for a stew. One after the other, right into the pot.

Rivulets of red run down her arms, stain the front of her vest, and all the man does is watch in mixed terror and confusion. It’s close to what she wants, but not quite enough. She wants fear. Terror. Downright horror. Oftentimes when an individual is stabbed it feels like being punched, before the sympathetic nervous system starts doing its proper work. There are maybe a blissful thirty seconds of confounded gasping, pleading, and scrabbling to pull her hands away from him before he drops like a sack of bricks. This nameless creature, whoever he is, whatever he did? He dies gasping on the floor of the too-small shower. His blood is still warm, at first. but it’s soon cooled by the running shower. It’s as disheartening a realization when she sees the shower has aided in removing most of it from her hands, too.

She watches the rest run down the drain, and then steps out and leaves him there. Any mark of what she’s done is, for the most part, washed clean before it had the chance to stain. She gives herself a passing glance in the mirror. Raises one corner of the mouth, then the other, and smiles at herself with all her teeth. It’s like looking at a stranger and her closest friend all at once, her eyes lit up like the stars. Smile for the cameras.

Ronan is waiting for her in the hall, the clerk next to him, tapping out a text to Damiano - she can only assume. If she’s right, it will read something like food is waiting on your desk. Some foolish, stupid little signal.

She nods at Sofia, clearing her throat. Ronan glances up, turns the phone off, slips it into his pocket. “What are we doing with her?”

“Her?” He’s already looking away. Wonderful.

When Trinity steps closer, the young woman shakes like a leaf. It worsens when she raises her hand and smears whatever remains of the man’s blood over her mouth — it ruins whatever lip gloss Sofia's chosen to wear for her shift that night, without a doubt. For a moment, Trinity wonders if she’s going to vomit. She smiles, and reaches back to wind her her fingers through Sofia’s blond hair. It’s dirty-gold in hue. She’s sure it shines under the sun, but in the overhead lighting of the Emelia, it looks dull. Flat.

Sacha’s had been so light it’d been close to silver. Trinity can remember the way her wife had purred whenever she’d played with it, even when it was something as simple as fingertips ghosting over her scalp. She presses her mouth into a thin line before speaking with some resignation. “You did very good, solnyshko.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Sofia whispers, staring at Trinity with eyes wide. Like a doe. Not a doe. A fawn might be better.

“I do,” Trinity replies, and the woman lets out a pitiful wail in response.

“You don’t have to do this, please, I have a daughter, my husband, a family, I only just got hired, I won’t tell a soul-” she’s quivering with it, and when she collapses to the floor and grabs at Trinity’s legs to plead, her hands cold and clammy, Tamora goes with her. There they sit, on their knees together: Sofia, sobbing, mouth wide open in resigned terror. Trinity, watching, waiting, feeling the thundering rhythm of her pulse as it quickens. So close to warmth. Just a few seconds away.

So did I, Trinity thinks. “You are... loose end,” she murmurs instead. The way she slits Sofia’s throat is precise. It’s over before the woman can cry out. Sofia’s weight becomes exponentially heavier, as she collapses to the side, with red running deep across her throat and staining the lavish green floors. Trinity ends up yanking out a clump of hair from her scalp as she goes.

She’s still plucking the strands from beneath her fingernails when they re-enter the elevator at the end of the hall, knowing the bodies will be swept away before anyone can so much as bat an eye. No one will wonder where the three on the top floor of Hotel Emelia went; if anyone asks, they’ll be quickly silenced.

 Ronan presses the button to take them back to the lobby, tapping his better foot in time with a silent beat. She smiles at him in thanks.

“You’ve got something on your teeth,” he says, brow furrowed.

She grins wider: A quarter of a centimeter, canines bared, swipes at the corner of her mouth with her pinky finger. Lipstick comes away, smeared dark against her skin. The elevator dings. “I know.”

Extras: 

Some thoughts:

The Zakarian family has their fingers in every pie imaginable, thanks to the reputation that protects them, but it was Sacha, Trinity’s wife, that had the closest affiliation with mob business in St. Petersburg. Over the fifteen year period of their marriage (they married young, and in-love, when Trinity was only twenty-two), Trinity danced with the best and worst of them: she knows plenty of members in the Russian mob, and considers them to be her closest allies, rather than the Montagues. When Sacha and Alyosha were so tragically killed, it was the Russian mob that paid for the funeral, with the Zakarians throwing some money at the problem to stem suspicion. She’s even somewhat familiar with Boris, even if he’s not from St. Petersburg.

Shortly before Faron’s death, on the fifth of November, she departed from Verona to visit Alyosha’s grave for the anniversary of his death. She didn’t return to Verona until the twenty-second, and missed Faron’s funeral. She still commit to the tradition of wearing dark colors for forty days and forty nights, however, and visits his grave semi-frequently. She’s not even sure why: she had no care for the man, and in the end, believes he faltered in his goals due to avarice and selfishness.

Her first language is Armenian, her second is Russian, her third English, and her fourth is Italian. She’s got a peculiar accent, but for the most part, she’s used to speaking Russian. Adjusting to Italian in Verona has been strange, although she’s not necessarily a woman of few words.

She’s been relatively-hands off when it comes to business dealings in the public eye since the death of her family. Her brother, Artur, has stepped up to the plate to ensure things are running smoothly. She trusts him enough not to make a mess of it, but I’m thinking maybe she sets up camp somehow in Hotel Emelia to ensure it stays in the hands of the Montagues.

I’ve got a playlist, and a pinboard.

[eb-the-gamer]

BEFORE YOU READ, KNOW THIS REVIEW POST HAS SPOILERS FOR BENDY AND THE INK MACHINE!!!!

@bendysstudio @themeatly--official

I have played Bendy and the Ink Machine in full now. What do I think?

Well...

The game was good, for sure, you can tell they put a ton of love, especially now with the polish added by updates, the incorporation of fan music, and the attempts at keeping everything engaging throughout the chapters. 

However, It could be really improved upon...

STORY - By far the strongest of Bendy’s points is its narrative, old cartoons are Organically creepy in a lot of ways because of a few factors, among these are the contrasting aspects of the imperfections of movement and the oftentimes unnoticed details in things like wrinkles and textures (as examples, Pete chewing Tobacco from Steamboat Willie, and the infamous cab colloway dancing ghost from Betty Boop.), so it makes a ton of sense to utilize that as a horror concept. The game throws us a steady stream of questions from almost the start of the first chapter, but while a lot is answered, there is a lot unanswered or not followed through on and it can be hard to ignore when you think about it ESPECIALLY by the end. Were the employees really all corrupted by the ink, what is Henry’s purpose, why did henry not know about his own messages if he’s written them while looping everything over and over, and how could he see or write them without the glass tool (and what with?), what is up with the animatronics and cages you set up. the game kind of shrugs at a lot; its by no means a dealbreaker because of what the story does explore about the studio, but it is noticeable.

9/10 - Amazing - The game’s big draw, though some questions are not all answered in a meaningful way, what the story does cover is still really interesting and worth playing through.

 DESIGN - Bringing actual life to something like a cartoon but failing so hard is a really great idea, and a lot of the time the game shows us the hubris in the want vs. the reality of the consequence; the monsters and places the game creates reflect it well. Everything looks like its made from the sunbleached, aged paper artists used and everything is a wonderfully messed up reflection of life at the studio and the cartoons within, particularly with the projectionist, butcher gang and the unnamed giant hand (I’ll call him Lil’ Handful). the world of Joey Drew productions is a really cool, realized one. simple but slightly barren and “off” work offices giving way for the bigger, detailed and mysterious places in the lower levels. I will however knock some of the update decisions, particularly with Sammy and Bendy himself. they originally looked blobby, as the updates came, they both got more defined in shape - respectively looking more muscular and emaciated looking, which took away from the toonish aspect of the it. Where once were feet that looked like strange melted stubs going into the floor, are just...solid feet and where once was something that looked like a melting candle trying to retain a shape is what is more or less a thin ink zombie (complete with limp). Bendy’s final form is also lackluster for me, I love the Muggshot (Sly Cooper series) tiny dangle-legs and walking around on hands thing; but its threatening, not as scary or horrifying as something that's stopped trying to be likable could’ve been taken. Everyone else is pretty good though especially the butcher gang and boris, who stayed pretty much the same and kept design elements in all forms through the production. Text for audio logs could have been bigger at times too. all in all, design is solid, but something was definitely lost as more polygons and detail were added for certain characters.

9/10 - amazing!- a great use of elements from animations of the past used in a 3d space, just the right amount of cartoon goofiness and uncanny details, though some designs were fixed when they weren’t broken.

CHARACTERS - Not much to say, I like em all, (Henry is delightfully levelheaded to the extreme, Boris is a cutie, Bendy is a threatening silent presence...) except maybe that one obnoxious guy in recordings, Wally Franks, and even then, he’s not AWFUL (I’d compare him to Fleem from Smallfoot, intentionally made to get on a nerve at least a little), the most interesting character for me Bertrum, the architect who calls Joey out on his bullcrap, and Alice Angel, both versions of her - but the manic first variant you meet first is interesting to listen to and learn about in particular. Boris is kind of lackluster, while he is nice and the reveal of him and other toons being made en masse is awesome, it also means we don’t get much time with them. Sammy sort of just comes and goes twice, and Tom!Boris and Allison I felt got the shaft and should have been established earlier for a connection. Joey is a jerk who suddenly becomes somewhat good in the last acts, which confuses me - since there was no in between those two points that's explained...

7/10 -  Good - characters are great to listen to and watch, and if the game had had more time to focus on a lot of them, that might have made them feel more complete.

SOUND - sound, music and voiceacting is well done, lots to appreciate from the creepy gurgles, to the odd stuttery sound of a projector. though there are occasionally some bad bits of soundmixing and audio. some recordings that you can find in the game stand out, there’s one that's really hard to listen to in chapter 5 because the character speaks in a really gravelly voice, in addition to the fuzzy audio effect and the ambient noise surrounding it.

8/10 - Great! - I only wish there was more! aside from one or two recordings, everything and one sounded nice, and the unease of silence is used equally well.

CONTROLS AN’ GAMEPLAY - They’re standard first person fair, responsive for sure, though sometimes the sensitivity of the controls can raise by themselves (I don’t know if that's by design, since it was at the same point as markiplier, right before a section involving being stealthy is taken on, which might actually be really clever if its true. Combat can also be wonky, but Its passable since its not a main focus, except for one REALLY obnoxious enemy gauntlet in the last chapter, if there were defined checkpoints between each wave, I’d be more inclined to let it go. Puzzles are pretty standard as well, lots of fetching, but other stuff such as playing minigames and stealth crop up to shake it up. Stuff is unlocked after everything is said and done in the story, and while it is cool narratively (messages written by henry on previous loops) and as a view of the progress the game (though, the Archives are missing a lot of info on characters like Alice and Bertrum), it just feels like its not enough for a repeat playthrough, difficulty settings and maybe achievements for unconventional but creative actions in-game, working towards something big at the end might’ve helped in that regard (here’s hoping that's the case for the console releases next month)

7/10 - Good! - its standard stuff with an occasional misshap, but there is variety to it and its simply fun for me to play.

OVERALL - The gameplay is serviceable, and aside from the main story there’s not too much reason to play the game again, but its still a solid experience the whole way through, and the time and effort of the people who made the game really shines and makes it worth playing. maybe wait for the console release, in case they add anything to that, but theres not one excuse not to play it.

[yukipri]

I never experienced art theft until one of my works became unexpectedly popular- since then, I've found my work reposted, redrawn, and used as reference for cosplays. It's been exhausting, both seeing it, and not knowing WHERE I should stand on the issue. I've let redraws slide (with credit), but I plan on not allowing future ones from occurring. How do you deal with art theft? How do you continue drawing without thinking about the disrespect thrown at you during bad/failed confrontations?

I am so, so incredibly sorry this happened to you, and empathize very strongly with you. Art theft SUCKS, few things can be quite as demotivating as a creator than having something you’ve worked your ass off on swiped by someone else. And unfortunately, given the current internet culture, if you continue as an online artist it’s inevitable that it’ll happen at one point or another.

Because sure, of course part of the reason why we create is because we want to, but a large part of the motivation for sharing it is to hopefully get some response that people like it, whether it be in the form of likes, reblogs, comments, asks, tags, or anything else. That is the tangible PROOF that our work touched someone, and for someone who put in zero effort and has no idea how we felt while creating to receive all of that instead of us…sucks.

I think where you stand on the issue is up to you, and it’s okay for it to change. YOU always have the right to decide how you’re comfortable with people sharing your art, and your feelings are valid regardless of how they change.

Ironically enough, I just had another art theft on Instagram (my Anniversary post) super recently, so I was like HAH when I got this orz

This rant got a bit long, so the rest beneath cut but here’s a rundown about how my feelings towards art theft have evolved over the years.

For example, over the years I’ve gotten much, MUCH stricter. My earliest online art, I just put it up, no url, oftentimes no signature, no warnings in the comments or my blog bio. Admittedly I was starting out and didn’t have much viewers anyway, but the point was I still had Trust at the time.

Then the art thefts began. I started adding my url to all my illustrations, even if it was just small in the corner, as this’d let people at least find my website. Most people are too lazy to type out a url though, and I’ve seen people asking “Who drew this??” on art theft comments EVEN WHEN THE URL IS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE…

And then people started cropping my watermarks. I made my url bigger, and started adding an additional “DO NOT REPOST” to the image itself. I used to allow reposts with credits on platforms I’m not on, like fb, until I realized that people were then reposting from THOSE communities without credit and putting them into their videos and fics and I just…decided it wasn’t worth it.

I switched to no reposts PERIOD. I have lengthy disclaimers on all of my art that leads to an even lengthier FAQ post that, should people wish to look, leads to even an even more detailed post about WHY art theft sucks, as I’m explaining now.

(EDIT: ALSO, reduce the quality of the images you upload, and NEVER upload the full resolution, and try to keep you unmerged original files. This is for several reasons: no matter how much an art thief reposts your work, they’ll never have access to the higher resolution, and if they ever decide to try to print to sell for profit it’ll be shitty quality compared to anything you make with the original. ALSO, you having the maximum resolution with no watermarking with additional unmerged psd files will be proof that you are the true creator should you need to prove it, which I’ve heard is sometimes necessary to show when your art is stolen at say, an artist alley)

I also used to bother trying to talk to art reposters. I’d comment on the post, try to send messages, etc. It’s fucking exhausting, and while there are some exceptions, the VAST majority of art thiefs will feel attacked and immediately get rude and defensive. (the failed confrontations and disrespect you mentioned orz) If it’s a large community, they may even try to gang up on you. I’ve unfortunately experienced this most frequently in communities centered around other languages (mainly Spanish) because of different mainstream attitudes towards art reposting etiquette combined with a language barrier.

You will, and no doubt already have, encountered people who will argue with you, like the people I describe above. “You should be grateful for the bigger audience!” “We just want to appreciate your art, how can you be so horrible?” “We’re all fans together!” “This is fanart and doesn’t belong to you anyway!” Etc. etc. etc. It’s exhausting, it’s repetitive, it’s neverending, and you already felt awful before it even began and the stress just continues to build.

So I personally have just begun reporting people, if the service allows it. Use DMCA takedown request forms (and YES, even if it’s fanart it’s still yours if you drew it). This is stressful too because it sends your real name + info to the reposter (and wow I clearly can’t trust these people to begin with, why would I want them to have that???) but most sites (facebook, instagram, certainly tumblr, twitter) are very efficient and responsive, and in the end the relief of receiving that email that the art has been taken down is worth it. Especially with facebook, they also send a scary official warning email to the reposters which I sincerely hope will help educate them and discourage future art thefts.

I try to avoid posting public urls because yes I’m aware how mob mentality Tumblr can get, but sometimes it’s just too much. There’s no convenient form of getting my content removed (perhaps bc it’s in a compilation with a ton of other content), or for some reason my attempts to communicate have failed. In those times I have occasionally asked my followers to help, with a reminder to PLEASE always be polite and respectful, regardless of the offense. Y’all have been amazing, and this has saved me many nights of crying in the past.

I will sometimes also write lengthy posts (like this one!) to help educate. Because I do feel that art theft will continue so long as people don’t understand what it does to artists, and it’s up to the community as a whole to make that change, which also depends heavily on the consumers not just creators. A lot of art theft really isn’t intentionally meant to harm, but IS super ignorant.

But in the end, all I’ve ranted about so far is how I’ve dealt with actually removing/dealing with the shit. But the emotional pain, it builds. Sometimes, when it’s too frequent and the stolen art gets way more attention than my original that I worked my ass off on that basically flunked on my own platforms, I feel a bit of me break.

And in the end, it’s up to you what that threshold is, where posting art and feeling good about it is overwhelmed by the pain, fear, and anxiety of art theft. I’ve crossed my own threshold too many times, and once had to take an art hiatus because of it (fandom was BH6). This lead to a break in my productivity and motivation and my eventual complete departure form the fandom. I’ve seen many other artists just stop posting art entirely or moving everything to private. It’s terrible, but my feelings are with these artists, and I feel so, so sorry that they were hurt so much to the extent they had to do this.

With my current fandom and followers, I feel that regardless of how niche an audience my content tends to be geared for, I have a community that is really satisfying for me to create for, one that is responsive to me and gives me tons of feedback. This is the number one reason why i continue to feel motivated to post a ton of online content despite the risks.

The takeaway form this long meandering post: Posting online is a hobby, it’s for fun, and I don’t make any money off my public audience (unless they come to Patreon! LOL!), so I’m a firm believer that once the anxiety + misery starts outweighing anything positive you personally may get from sharing online, which for me heavily depends on my audience and their responsiveness, there’s no reason to subject yourself to that anymore and you are in no way obligated to stay. There are various methods to more efficiently get rid of art thefts without dealing with them in person which is stressful AF, and also ways of marking up your content in ways that may look less aesthetically pleasing, but will hopefully discourage art thefts, and at the very least give them very little leg to stand on should they do it anyway. How forgiving you are in art thefts also depends on you, but the more forgiving you are, the more it can get away from you. And in the end, YOU as a human are more important than any complaints about art looking less pleasing or the feelings of art thefts who don’t get to do what they want with YOUR hard work.

Sorry this was so disjointed and literally just me spewing at you, but I hope some of it was helpful ^ ^; Please let me know if I can give you any other advice, and I’m sorry again that you have to deal with this ;_;

(and to respond to your second ask, I do try to respond to most of my asks, but sometimes it takes a while (sometimes even months orz), especially if it’s one that requires a lengthy detailed answer like this one ^ ^; thank you for your patience!)

[hoenursey]

Okay but the gold makeup video.... with persephone!nursey

(video in question: x )

oh, he’d be gorgeous. that would be absolutely stunning.

Persephone was not  spoiled. 

He wasn’t. Or at least, he didn’t think himself spoiled. He helped his parents work, ruled his kingdom well, tended the land, listened to others, cared for Cerberus. Spoiled gods simply didn’t do those things: they had others do it for them. Persephone liked  hard work, liked to sweat and earn his relaxations with his own two hands.

Unless Hades was involved, in which case, he was the very definition of spoiled, from the tips of his pumice-scrubbed toes to the topmost curls of his honey-washed hair. His husband left him wanting for nothing– not food, not clothing, not jewelry or lovemaking or affection. Barely did “I wish” have to pass his lips before it was presented before his mossy green eyes, his for the taking, and Persephone was unashamed to admit that he soaked up the attention like a sunflower soaked up the heat of Apollo’s chariot as it flew through the sky. He could  be spoiled, then, because it made his husband happy to make him happy, and the cycle was both charming and endless in that regard. He felt… a little undeserving, oftentimes, of so much love from that end, but Hades never felt as though he was pressured into anything: love, affection, or anything else.

Including, it seemed, the nuggets of gold from deep beneath the ground.

Humans coveted them, though for what reason, he was unsure, as the trappings of humanity outside of their harvests and their deaths generally did not concern or interest him– except for poetry, which he often slipped away with Apollo to see– but it was gorgeous and Papa loved to work with it in his forge. (Hades had greatly endeared himself to Hephaestus by sending him what he found; they kept it to themselves that the bigger pieces came from… rather loud nights in their ivy-covered palace.) The material was, according to the long ramblings of Hephaestus, extremely versatile, easy to work with, and “of the finest material he’d seen in quite a long while”. At Hades’ request, he often made jewelry and sent it out to Persephone, who was now bedecked in more than he could think to do with it, but each of them separately adored each invention.

This newest invention, however, Persephone was… rather unsure as to what its purpose was.

Just for fun, Mango seed.-Papa

Inside the little marble case was what appeared to be gold shaved into a fine powder, pressed just so within it. 

Curiously, Persephone unlatched the top to it, admiring the shimmer of it– he dipped his finger into the case and lightly ran the pad of it along the surface, and it came away glimmering, coated in the fine dust. 

Hmm.

He tapped at the ground with a bare foot: from a crack in the floor grew a single bloom of castilleja linariifolia, which he plucked with quiet thanks. Eagerly, he brushed the flower across the powder, leaned in to the mirrored surface of his vanity, and began to play with the powder to his heart’s desire.

“Husband?” a voice called, not twenty minutes later, and Persephone jumped; luckily, the powder wasn’t in his hands, but his makeshift brush slid across his lips in his surprise.

“In our chamber!” Persephone called out to Hades, setting his tools down to look at his work. The sound of his husband’s padding feet drew his attention and he felt his heart flutter– theirs was a new marriage, still alight with passion and the joy of merely being with one another– the door opened and closed, and he turned to greet him.

Hades stopped in his tracks.

“Persephone,” he breathed.

Before Hades’ eyes, Persephone knew, was himself, laden with gold dust that lined his cheekbones, his jawine, his collar; it danced along his chest, speckled in dots down his abdomen, spotted his lips and, most alluringly, crested against his eyelids, highlighting the deep green of the eyes below them.

“Papa sent me a new gift,” Persephone said lightly, tone casual. “Do you like it?”

Seconds later, he found himself backed against his vanity, Hades’ mouth pressed against his own; his husband kissed him fervently, feverishly, the sensation of it wildly contrasting to the delicacy of which his hands were placed–the right, cupping his cheek, a thumb caressing at the fine bones there, the left holding his waist tenderly, warm against his naked skin.

“Tell Lord Hephaestus,” Hades said lowly after he pulled away to breathe, Persephone himself still panting slightly against his mouth, “that his two gifts could not be more appreciated.”

“Two?” Persephone asked, dazed. “What was the other, I saw but one.”

Delicately, Hades slid his thumb along his bottom lip. “You, my sunflower. The first gift.” He kissed him then, again, just a whisper of his lips against his own. 

“You are my favorite gift of all.”

[mfmagazine]

Irene Nelson

Article by Victoria Laurey

Russian beauty, Irene Nelson, is taking the U.S music scene by storm. With her amazingly eccentric voice, she can bring fire spiraling through your veins like the Phoenix she portrays in the video “Sunrise.” As creator and former member of the band, Reflex, Nelson wanted to be reborn as her own artist and evolve her individual sound. After taking a spiritual retreat, is when she found her true self and decided to share it with the world. Producing alongside her husband, Vlad Tyurin, the pair has created an absolute triumph as to how Nelson wanted the album to be heard. There is more to descry from this artist as she opens up her wings and allow us to take that flight on a profound journey through her lyrical beliefs.

Your hit single "Sunrise" is having worldwide success. What was the inspiration behind the song? I was inspired by my inner world's transformations. What is one? It’s the knowing of my own difficult path - a girl from a deep Siberian province that literally escapes home. Experiencing many troubles, I have started thinking about the sense of different occurrences, started to look for answers in the books of philosophers and yogis. During 10 years I have accomplished many spiritual practices and yoga techniques on my own. I always wanted to anticipate beyond the borders of a physical world. A desire to write a song about love appeared. I am telling the story of two lovers who dissolved in their love and turned into holy souls. I used a metaphysical image of two birds. Your sound was compared to that of the mythical bird Phoenix, by which you portray in the video. How does such the creature reflect you? The meaning of the Phoenix is very deep. It is a powerful symbol of rebirth. All people and all nations worshiped it, including Egyptian Pharaohs. In early Christian art the Phoenix was used to symbolize the death and the resurrection of Christ. Even today, the Phoenix can be seen on emblems and flags to symbolize a new beginning. Everything around us has a cycle - the birth and death, day and night, summer and winter, sunrise and sunset, etc. It is the same thing in human life. We should forget our former achievements to rise to a new high stage. I left my status behind, the popularity and possibility to make good money, and came to a new place to begin to work on a new image in a foreign language, conquering new audience. This is like a jump into the unknown, it took my breath away. When did you realize that you had a gift to sing? Who inspired you? I was 3 years old. Sitting on my grandmother's knee I sang something in a very high pitch. My mother had a very beautiful timbre; she was singing songs and inspiring me. Studying at a school gave me an opportunity to develop my artistic qualities in amateur talent activities. After finishing my school I got accepted to a music college. Once during one of my vocal rehearsals the director of the jazz big-band accidentally heard me training and invited me to become a lead-singer in his band. This offer gave me a few years of touring different countries, participating in festivals and winning various awards. I continued touring with my jazz band until I met songwriter and sound producer, Vlad Tyurin, who I still work with, since he is very talented melodist.

What is the most memorable moment you had when you were in a band, Reflex? I felt it while I was holding the main music award. It was broadcasted on the most popular channel of my country. "Gold Grammofon" was in my hands. The announcer of the ceremony was sad because I was leaving Reflex. Audience unexpectedly went quiet. Then he screamed: "Irene, don't leave!!!" They couldn't understand why I took this decision at the pinnacle of success. You announced that you were leaving the band due to feeling unfulfilled and needed to grow and evolve." How did the band take the news? People of the band already knew before, that I had a lot of ideas which required realization. Reflex was created by me and composer and sound producer, Vlad Tyurin. So oftentimes we had to do and manage everything ourselves. We were not only writers and composers, but also producers on every step, including sound engineering, making videos, creating style, and setting photo session. It was a huge experience and as a result, Reflex, became a 7 year old success story! We have received medals and orders "For professionalism and contribution to culture". I am really very thankful for their understanding; I received best wishes for my solo career from all the members of the band. After your departure from Reflex, you spent time at a mountain retreat in the United Arab Emirates for two months. Was that experience challenging sometimes due to lack of electricity and running water? I practiced meditation and lived in total silence. I was listening to silence like the best music in the world! I had an opportunity to listen to my other part of myself that was hidden deep inside of me for a long time. I have realized a lot of things. When I returned from my retreat I was better equipped with a new form of self expression that I like to call "Romantic Rock". The term "Romanticism" emerged in European and American arts in 18-19 centuries and came right after the Age of Enlightenment that cultivated the mind and the technical achievements of civilizations. Being an opposite force the romanticism brings up the cult of nature, feelings and the essence in the human being. I like the image of the noble "savage" equipped with the common wisdom and not spoilt by civilization. These ideas overlap with my views on life, and it's the essence of my lyrics.

During the process of finding your sound, while composing in Dubai, how would you describe your state of mind on what the album should sound like? Dubai is a big city that combines traits of a huge megalopolis and a resort where the luxury and eastern traditions co-exist in one. It is an international city and very similar to LA. There I learned how to create melodies that are clear and understandable for all people of all nationalities, but the lyrics reflect my own meditative and contemplative perception of the world. What obstacles did you have to overcome from being in the public eye? Are you still facing them? To be in the public eye is a severe trial. Once I have written one expression: "Remarkable people don't strive to be famous, they strive to do a remarkable deed". I like people, who don't clutter up our minds with rubbish information for the sake of own popularity. Were has been your favorite location you have visited while on tour? I like places where it is very sunny. When sun is shining the soul is singing. That's why people who live in warm countries have beautiful voices, I'll name only a few of those places - it's France, California, Israel, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Portugal and many others. When you're not performing, what do you like to do for fun? I like to go to unusual places and meet unusual people. For instance I was in the most remote countryside area of Arab Emirates and Siberia, and was as a guest at luxury Hollywood stars' houses. Soon I’m leaving for a yoga tour in Orlando. I also like reading something about cosmogony and about people who devoted themselves to learning one. Now I am very happy, because I'm living near Venice Beach and can just loll about on the sand. As an artist, what would you like for you fans to leave with after a show? I'd like my fans not only to get good entertainment on my show, but they could also extract vital information that I tried to put into my songs. Thanks to social networks and letters that I have received I drew to a conclusion that my fans understand me and feel me. My new album is coming soon and my dream is to make a video for almost every song from it. I have too many ideas! That's why I am not saying good bye and waiting for a new hearty welcome!