#see I’d say lapis lazuli is the easy choice for myself

[dogcopter]

Dogcopter Appearance Masterlist

thank you to resources SU Wiki Dogcopter and Dogcopter/Gallery, and Steven Says wiki transcript searcher

This is just a list of Dogcopter appearances in SU, not analysis. One or two may surprise you!

Dogcopter episode appearances

Lars and the Cool Kids

Lion 2

Some people say ‘You can't teach an old dog new tricks’... Unless you're Dogcopter 3, in 3D! This February, the fur hits the fan!

Steven: Whoah, I can see why this is your favorite film franchise. Connie: That's right! In a world where humanity is pushed to the brink, it turns out that the one who is most human, is a dog! Copter. Steven: and did you see where that missile came out of? Connie: Heh, yeah. I just hope it stays faithful to the book. 

Amethyst: Oh, that's easy! Who needs to go see movies when you’ve got magic?

Steven: I'm sorry! I ruined everything, didn't I? I don't know why you hang out with me. I mess stuff up all the time. Connie: I don't know why you hang out with me! I'm so much more less interesting than you! And obviously you have some sort of magical destiny. Why would you even care about something like Dogcopter? Steven: Why?! Because it's Dogcopter! He's a dog, and a helicopter, and a cop! He shoots missiles out of his butt, and he's gonna save the world! Dogcopter is very cool and important to me. Connie: Well, I'm no Dogcopter.

Keep Beach City Weird 

Dogcopter 3 SUX April 23, 2014

I saw Dogcopter 3 in 3D tonight and all I have to say is WOOF!  

First of all, it’s a huge mistake to turn the last Dogcopter book into THREE movies.  Yes, the last book is over 900 pages, but there’s not enough story!  And the 3D was completely unnecessary.  If I wanted to see butt missiles flying at my face, I’d feed a dog some bottle rockets and put on a pair of safety goggles.

Dogcopter is supposed to be an uncompromising look at the military-industrial-pet complex, not “fun”!  Fun is the worst.

Also, if you live in the Delmarva area - do not see it at the Beach City Cineplex.  The parking lot is a mess!  Probably from a bunch of angry Dogcopter fans rioting.  Ugh, I’m going to see this 3 more times to make sure I hate it.

Tags: dogcopter 3 in 3D keep beach city weird kbcw

-

Lion 3

Dogcopter: I win. Steven: Oh, what? That was a good move! Dogcopter: Thanks. Steven: Dogcopter. How do you do it? Dogcopter: How do I do what? Steven: I mean, what's your secret? How'd you get so talented? Dogcopter: Don't focus so much on talent, Steven. Making art is all about communication. A piece of art is a conversation. Every choice you make, is a statement.

Continued under cut

Dogcopter: Don't worry about labels, or conforming to a standard. Just be true to yourself, and people will appreciate your honesty. Steven: Woah. Thanks for the advice. Dogcopter: And take a deep breath. Steven: What?

suworkbook wrote a brilliant piece of meta around this dream

Steven: Here again? I don't know what this place is but it feels... familiar. Why can't I breathe? Wait a minute... Lion! Lion, my face is not your bed! What's going on with you?

Chille Tid

Steven: Whoa. Dogcopter! Mr. Copter! Sir! I'm one of your biggest fans, can I please have your autograph? Dogcopter: (meows) Steven: Mr. Copter, please! Steven: Hey wait! Where are you going?! Steven: I hope the rumors about Dogcopter in the tabloids aren't true. Steven: Huh? Oh! Hey, Pearl! Steven: Wait! Don't eat me! Steven: Oh, man! Thanks for the upgrade, Pearl! Now I can catch up with Dog— Steven: Woah, Amethyst? Steven: Hmm... This is... getting really weird. Lapis: This is weird. Steven: Hey, that sounds a lot like— Lapis: Steven! Steven: Lapis Lazuli! Lapis: Steven, what are you doing in here?

Keep Beach City Weird

KEEP BEACH CITY SPOILER FREE January 04 2016

Hey weirdos!  For the past few months, I’ve done something unprecedented - I’ve stayed off the internet.

It was hard but I had to do because I’ve been trying to stay SPOILER FREE for the movie event of the new millennium!  This December was the revival of one of the most famous sci-fi franchises in the world.  Yep, you know what I’m talking about: DOGCOPTER.

So for three months, I sequestered myself from all internet communications.  I handed over my laptop and my phone to my little bro, Peedee, and ordered him to bury them in an undisclosed location in the deserts of New Mexico.

I think he just put them in the walk-in freezer at the fry shop.  

I won’t lie, it was hard.  But I calmed my nerves by reacquainting myself with the “Young Adult Conspiracy” section at my local library.  And instead of getting in arguments with internet trolls, I got in real life arguments!  With my dad!

And after months of avoiding and spoilers or teasers or trailers, I was in line for Dogcopter 4, and then some dummy walking out of the theater TOTALLY SPOILED EVERYTHING and was like, “I can’t believe that Dogcopter’s parents are actually cats.”  

Ug!  I hope you’ve seen the movie because that’s pretty much the big ending.  Dogcopter dies defending the planet but then he comes back to life because he’s actually part cat and cats have 9 lives.  Anyway, the movie was pretty much ruined.  So now I’m back.  Spoilers are the worst.

Tags: Keep Beach City Weird Dogcopter

-

Fun fact if you invert this poster and adjust the contrast a bit, some odd diagram in the back appears:

Steven’s Birthday

Amethyst: What are you doing? Steven: Well uh...What are YOU doing? Greg: What are YOU doing to your body? Amethyst: Woah, woah, woah, have you been stretching yourself out all day? Steven: No! I was just... slouching. Greg: Why are you doing this? It... really isn't like you. Steven: Because, Dad, I can't stay a kid forever, when Connie grows up and becomes president what is that gonna make me? First Boy!? Amethyst: Steven, you can't just keep stretching forever. If you hold it too long, you could really hurt yourself. Steven: Yeah well, I'm half human so maybe it works different for me, we'll just have to wait and see, right? Greg: Steven...

Connie: That one's... "Canis helicopterus". Steven: Uh-uh, "Helicopterus"? Connie: Yeah, Dogcopter, get it? Now you make one up! Steven: Okay, um, That one's, uh, snake constellation. Connie: That's... pretty good. Are you okay? It looks like you're gonna throw up. Steven: Oh yeah, everything's fine!  Connie: Okay... that's good. You know, to be honest, I was a little worried before. This might sound silly, but I'm really glad that I'm going to get to grow up with you. Connie: ...Steven? Steven! What's going on? What happened? Connie: We were just talking then all of a sudden- Pearl: He turned back into a baby?! Connie: YES!

Keep Beach City Safe

DOGCOPTER 4: ALL DOGS GO TO WAR Jan 5 2016

Dogcopter 4 has finally been released! All Dogs Go to War!

I’ve been dying to see this movie for age, but I never had the time. I’ve been so busy with my blog and picking the perfect present for Steven. I’ve watched all the other Dogcopter Movies, but I haven’t had time to watch this one. But now I have a little free time to do something. After I watch it I won’t spoil it for the rest of you. I’m gonna be a Smart Spoiler and drop hints in my post for you guess. Only those who have watched it will notice the clues. Yep, watching it 9 times.

#Dogcopter 4 #Steven's Birthday Present #Dogcopter Movies #Smart Spoiler

Same Old World

Lapis: So, what does happen in Empire City? Steven: Well, let's see. If you lived here, you could get a cool apartment, and be a single Gem taking on the big city. You'll have a fun job at a local coffee shop and come home to a wacky roommate... Lapis: I have no idea what you're talking about. Steven: Awww.

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Steven: I'll take care of this! Kiki: Steven, be careful! Steven: Don't worry about me! Anything is possible when you have... rockets for bones! Kiki: Steven, that was so brave! Steven: Well, it's cheddar than nothing.

Steven: Oh, hey, Dogcopter. Dogcopter: (meows) Steven: See ya, dream Kiki! Kiki: Oh, okay. See you, dream Steven! Steven: Dream Steven!

Little Homeschool

Steven: Sadie's been touring with The Suspects, promoting their new album, and Connie has been getting a head start on college prep. She's two years away from applying, but she says it doesn't hurt to start early. Steven: And speaking of higher education, Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl and I have been cooking up a dream of our own! Cherry Quartz: I have no idea who you're talking about.

Snow Day

Amethyst: Guess what we've got lined up tonight. "Pupcopter's Sky-High Adventure"! Pearl: Sheet masks with cute animal faces! Garnet: And, most importantly, pizza. Steven: Uh, guys, I've been a vegetarian for, like, a month, and "Pupcopter" is for 6-year-olds, and I have my own skin care routine. Anyways, it's cool. I already ate.  Amethyst: Oh well. We'll just watch the movie with Cat Steven. Garnet: My bad. I was sure we were in the pepperoni timeline.

In Dreams

Dogcopter: (flies away) Stefan: Noooo!

Together Forever

Lion: (roars) Connie: Huh? Steven: Hey, Connie! How you doin'? Connie: Steven? What are you doing here? Steven: You're gonna have a fifteen-minute break in...two minutes, right? Connie: Whoa! Spot on. Steven: Connie, let's go for a walk. I'm sure you could use some fresh air. Connie: I would love to! But um... Steven: No, no, no! Don't worry! We'll go with Lion, and I promise you'll be back in fifteen minutes! Connie: Okay! Let's do this!

Growing Pains

Drew: I know you're eager to chase the mail truck, Dogcopter. But the mail truck is a decoy. Good boys chase the blue car. Be a good boy, Dogcopter. Drew: Nice work, DC! Now get the bomb off the bridge! We're almost out of time! Drew: Dogcopter! No! Drew: Dogcopter, I can't lose you. Drew: Is this... what I think it is?

Announcer: Dogcopter 6: Till Death Do We Bark: I Now Pronounce You Man And Woof! Steven: Everyone's getting married but me! Ugh! I feel like poop.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, MALIN! You’ve been accepted for the role of DEATH with the faclaim of ZOE KRAVITZ. Death’s hunger is one of my favorite aspects about their character -- but it can be easily overstated or understated in contrast to their humanity. You struck the perfect chord, and the song you wrote for me with Death was so well-written it made me weep. Zoya has the real potential to be a power-player, as you’ve shown, but her history and humanity gets in the way, and there’s so something undeniably poetic about it. The lore you sketched out for me at the start merely set the stage for a wonderful application that I enjoyed to no end (fantasy Lasik!). I’m fully prepared to serve Zoya a seven-course meal.

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

ooc.

NAME: Malin PRONOUNS: she/hers & they/them AGE: 25 TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: GMT+1. Currently, I’m at about a 6-7 out of 10, I would say? I’m hoping for my own sake that I somehow nab a new job during summer sometime, which might push that activity down some – but I will still be here! ANYTHING ELSE? 1. i invented some in-game folklore. as a little treat. 2. listen, I gave a bitch haunted Lasik. 3. i did some MORE fuckshit regarding her body regenerating freakishly quick for a while after her resurrection (it has since gone away.) ALL OF THESE ARE DEFINITELY NEGOTIABLE if you feel it’s too much! but if you DON’T feel it’s Too Much though and you like it? ……………… let me do some fuckshit. 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

in character.

SKELETON: Death

NAME: Zoya Nathair, daughter of Duke Nathair, the Duke of Serpents – thus giving her the title of lady while at court. The hefty mouthful you’ll find on legal documents has her down as Zoya Casimira Lucem Zilvinas Nathair. Informal names given through the years include the moniker Prince of Snakes, as given to her by the people of Lowtown – an insult turned pet name with time, if you will – and the Gaunter of Hightown, a ghost story she accidentally caused in her youth.

FACECLAIM: Zoë Kravitz, Jessica Parker Kennedy, Crystal Reed, Keira Knightley, Jodie Comer  (would want to change the age depending on the backup FC!)

AGE: 31-32

DETAILS: Zoya is a collection of contradictions: she died once, yet she lives; she’s Hightown-born and yet has her hands in Lowtown dealings – and the face she puts on and whom most know is a mask.

Calculating, impulsive; ruthless, caring; selfish, loyal. She crafted a lie she could live, and now she’s caught in it – and yet she finds herself both relishing and resisting that lie. Her outspoken nature among the upper echelon began as a game, Zoya courting consequence for her own amusement – but the longer it’s gone on for, the truer it rings. But Koldam has been razed, and if there ever was a time to kill a king, it’s now.

At the start of the game, she is a woman considering all the choices that have led her to where she is, and she will need to reconcile the gnawing hunger within herself – the parts of her she sees as self-serving and ignoble – with the parts that recognize the injustice being done, the same parts she’s spent years drowning out.

CHARACTER DEATH: Yes, I’m comfortable with it! As a woman who has already died once, she knows it’s coming – just not how, or when. Considering she’s also out here being vocal about TREASON, it’s uhhhh [will wright voice] pretty likely, innit. I think her dying could be interesting, though I’d like it to have the right weight, storywise, and to have a hand in it myself, should it come down to it!

CONTENT WARNING – brief mentions of self-harm in the section “skins shed; lives lost, lives given”!

biography.

THE WOLF WHO BECAME DUKE OF SERPENTS.

A wolf saves an adder from the claws of a hawk; its snarling, hungry teeth scaring away the kestrel. With the hawk gone, the wolf advances on the adder, slobbering spit from its maw. “Do not eat me,” hisses the adder, “for I am little more to you than a morsel. Let me instead return the debt I owe you.”

Intrigued, the wolf agrees – for the snake is right; its sullen, sorry skin will hardly feed the wolf. And perhaps wolves are hungry creatures, and perhaps hunger is an ancient feeling – but there are more things in this world to be hungry for than meat, and wolves themselves are ancient.

And so it is that the two of them venture into the gleaming halls of the Serpent Queen, far below the earth. Her den of snakes have hollowed out the primordial passages, which coil and twist through stone and bedrock. Rivers of emerald and sapphire greet them as they enter her labyrinth; the air is suffused with the rich scent of loam and ferns that grow in the dark. It is there, in a cavern bled through with silver, that the Serpent Queen sits upon her throne, her glittering scales carved from obsidian and lapis lazuli, quartz and tiger's eye.

The hiss of her court is silenced as she speaks, her voice the whisper of wind through grass.  “What do you wish for?” she asks the wolf, and the wolf answers that he would like the comfort of a rich man’s life. “No more would I need to starve through winter,” he says. “No more would I need to roam the woods for meagre prey.”

“So it shall be,” the Serpent Queen says, and so it is. She grants him a name, for he has none; a title, for he does not have that either; enough wealth that he may buy land wherever he pleases. Finally, she grants him his new form: she teaches him the secret of snakes, how to shed his fur for skin – but once it is done, you may never go back.

And so it is that the wolves of House Nathair never again ran on all fours through the Volkan woods; rising instead on two to walk among men. That first wolf was named Zilvinas, and so they would all take the name in his honor. Their head of house is forever known as the Duke of Serpents, for it is to that scaled queen below the earth they owe their riches and land.

† † †

It’s a strange story, even among the varied gentry of Tyrholm; an odd fairytale from a long-gone era. As a child, she spent much time contemplating the skin and the claws and the fangs that were shed. Now, in her cups, she does much the same. Sober, she pretends she doesn’t. The crest of her family – a wolf’s head circled by a snake eating its own tail – is more entrenched in her mind than she wants to admit. But let her brothers be the wolves: she has shed her skin more than once, and she will do it again, and again, and again.

THE GAUNTER OF HIGHTOWN.

In Hightown, there is a certain manor. Its stonework is decked in reliefs of beasts ready to spring to life: wolves chase stags through marble woodlands, beautiful serpents hide in the leaves. Amidst well-lit streets and manicured gardens, it is easy to forget the ghosts that haunt Tyrholm – but as the saying goes, not all corpses sink in the Tear. No apparitions are ever gone for long. As servants from neighboring homes passed through the ginnels and alleyways near it, they would often feel as though they were being watched… and at odd hours of the day, they would look up and see a gaunt face staring back at them from the manor tower, before fading into darkness once more.

At dawn, one might catch her from the east, staring from between the hallway curtains, and some even said they saw her gazing down at them from the parapets after midnight – her bony hands curved across the stone, pin-prick eyes boring holes into them. The Gaunter, they called it, the strange creature that watched and waited.

They say if you aren't careful, the Gaunter will catch you - wrap its spider-fingers around your neck, and squeeze until you're as gaunt as it is. They say it caught a chambermaid, once, after dark. They found her by the bridge leading to the Isle of the Dead, her brown hair gone grey overnight, her cheeks hollowed out.

† † †

From birth, Zoya was an ill child – prone to spells of sickness that would leave her bedridden and housebound for weeks, even months, at a time. Tonics and ointments and even the occasional visit from a Vitalus got her back on her feet, for a while – but nothing ever healed her; not truly. From the windows, she would observe the world passing her by, and the sight of her sickly face peering out gave rise to a considerable number of ghost stories among gentry and servants alike.

Tenth-born and the only daughter; half-dead from her first breath – easily forgotten, among her pack of older brothers, too young and frail and fragile to be heard in all the noise. Another girl might have been cowed by her circumstances – but that girl was not Zoya. Forget the blood in her mouth and the way her limbs threatened to give out when she pushed herself too hard, too fast, too much – she was stubborn; clung to life like she had since birth.

She was tutored in much the same way as her brothers before her, but where they were strong enough in body to wield a sword, and healthy enough to leave the manor,  Zoya was decidedly not. It meant she was left to her own devices, and she divided those hours between books and the staff of servants, making friends with the scullery maids and stable hands. They told her stories and tall tales and gossip, explained the intricacies of Lowtown to her, taught her card games, how to spot a cheater and how to hide your nature as one – and if they ever pitied her, they had the good sense not to show it. (For that, she was forever grateful.)

When her health confined her to her room, she would read – voraciously so, head lost in tales of Faerûn’s fall and the glory of Hypatos, stories from beyond the Sahrnian Sea describing horror and wonder alike. And when she could, she would sneak out from her chambers to roam the hallways like a spectre. Under cover of darkness, she would make her way out and up, peering down at the Hightown streets; wondering what it might look like, should she ever get there.

The world continued passing her by, and though she grew older, she never got well. The year she turned fifteen, her health sharply declined for the worse. As spring began, Zoya was sent to the Nathair estate in the countryside to live out her last months – no doubt both because it would be a finer place to die, but also because she’s certain her parents wouldn’t want the stench of death to taint their Hightown manor.

As spring became summer, her family joined her for her living wake; Zoya’s body still warm, but not for long. Soon after, a flash flood rendered the nearby roads unusable, and the threat of summer storms meant travelers had to be wary. It wasn’t a surprise, then, that someone came knocking, invoking the law of hospitality – but their two missing fingers certainly were. A necromancer had come calling, and her father let them in.

† † †

Perhaps it was pity, or guilt, that made her parents leave her to her roaming. She’s certain that had they known where she went, they would have stopped her – but they didn’t.

She spent the fragile remainder of that summer in the furthest corner of the rose garden, and her company was largely silent, yet magnetically present. The necromancer would rarely speak, unless it was pressing, but they never chased her away. For hours, the two of them would sit there, one near death and the other beyond it, the roses slowly wilting. The sweet scent of rot permeated the air, fragrant and earthen, and it remains a strange, hazy memory on the periphery of her consciousness, even now.

Slowly – and then quick as a slap – she began to wilt, too.

The night she died is a haze, but she thinks she remembers the necromancer’s strange, quiet voice as they spoke to her father: “You have shown me kindness. Let me offer you mine.” She remembers the last breath she drew. She does not remember the face of her resurrector, but she swears she feels the touch of their hands, on occasion, phantom traces of memory.

It was as if she had been woken from the longest slumber. Her saviour was gone, like a ghost fleeing the dawn; had left right before sunrise. Already, she felt it – life. She had been a desert, and now she was a river: not until she could feel strength in her limbs for the first time did she understand just how parched she’d been.

She hobbled to the garden, and found a wasteland in its stead. The rosarium was rotting, that scent rising from the ruin left behind. And then, of course, there was the matter of her right eye.

Before, they had both been the shade of burnt umber, a lovely rich brown – but after she rose, her right eye was yellow as amber; her pupil no longer round, but a serpentine slit. It distressed her parents greatly: undeath is holy, but the flesh is weak. Her strange eye seemed fit as proof of some inner flaw, no matter the blessing bestowed. A sacrilege of a holy gift. It did not help matters that she began to see things, out of the corner of her eye – shadows and silhouettes, strange motes of light. Sometimes, she even swore she heard them whisper. Necromancy may be holy, but not all magic is, and whatever had been left behind in her – or woken up – was decidedly not holy. The eye drops were a compromise: her father wanted to have a Vitalus heal her eye, in the hopes that it might banish whatever ill fortune had befallen her, and Zoya staunchly refused. It was her mark, her scar, she would do with it as she pleased. But she could not deny that the strange visions bothered her, and in time, took to covering it with cloth. It made her realize that simply removing the sight from her right eye seemed to stem the problem – and so she agreed to her father’s solution. He commissioned eye drops brewed from belladonna and other strange components, and she has kept a vial of it on her at all times ever since.

† † †

SKINS SHED; LIVES LOST, LIVES GIVEN.

It was as if whatever force had eluded her in her first life had begun pouring out of her in her second. She took to fencing, took to the city, took to anything and everything she could get her hands on: I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. It echoed in her, a fervor unlike anything else she’d ever felt. She could tell it almost frightened her family: it must have been uncanny, she knows, to see her spend fifteen years half-dead, only to lie there a corpse and then be brought back. To see her right eye become something else, something not-her, to see her be so viciously alive after what had transpired.

And so, when she scratched herself on the thorns of a bramble in their Hightown garden, and found the scar knitting itself together, she kept it from them.

For weeks, she tested the limits of her resurrection – with thorns and knives, even a red-hot poker. If they were simple cuts, they would heal within the day. But if she exceeded her body’s strange, nebulous limit, they would often be bloodless – like a desiccated body, despite the glow in her cheeks and the fact that she was conscious. That fervor – that hunger – began to scare Zoya, too. But she had always been stubborn, and she would be damned if she let go then, after years of clinging to a half-life. So, like always, she pushed forward. If she hungered, she would have it – she needn’t think about that nagging thought in the back of her head, so long as she kept going.

( Am I alive, or am I a corpse? She would slip her hands into leather gloves, and tell no one why; would steal her mother’s perfume and fasten flowers to her lapel in the hopes that it might cover up the rot she was so certain she could smell. )

These days, all scars stay, whatever errant magical remnants the necromancer left in her long-gone. She wears the first scar that stuck with pride – a nasty gash in her left thigh, an anchor to remind her that she’s a living, breathing person. ( But sometimes, it’s hard to remember. )

SKINS SHED; LIVES LOST, LIVES TAKEN.

At 25, Zoya won the Rosewood Maiden in a game of cards, and the previous owner has sorely regretted it since. Already, she had been entrenched in certain Lowtown dealings, but it was the Maiden that would truly cinch her presence there. It became her way in, after a handful of years spent on the periphery, slowly working her way in. It would be easy, to say she wanted power – but the truth of it is that in her mind, power goes hand in hand with freedom. (Funny, then, that she has tied herself so strongly to a place, despite her childhood dreams of seeing what lay beyond her windowsill. –– But she did spend those fifteen years dreaming of simply seeing Tyrholm, and while she’s still curious about the rest of the world, Tyrholm is hers.)

Her “purchase” of the brothel marked a turning point: no longer was she an outsider, peering at the commonfolk from her ivory tower – no, she was one of them, now, with real stakes in Lowtown dealings. It made it easier for them to accept her, and her nickname, once spoken as an insult, became something else. She was theirs, now, and she enjoyed the idea of it – belonging. A pack of her own.

She snuck her metaphorical hand into the metaphorical pockets of the upper echelon, and used that gold to fund an expansion of her business – and in time, someone wrote a little ditty, one she hums if only to unnerve when the occasion calls for it:

Duke of Serpents; Prince of Snakes, king of liars, thieves and rakes– ruby, diamond, pearl and stone: rob you blind of blood and bone.

The nobles can say whatever they like. She’ll take what she wants in due time.

miscellaneous.

The Rosewood Maiden Architecture and design Rather than two, I headcanon that the Rosewood Maiden has three official floors and one hidden one - the top floor, which hosts Zoya's office as well as some sundry guest rooms for hire and storage space; the entry level, which hosts the tavern proper; the brothel quarter below; and underneath the brothel, a cavernous passage into an old smuggler's route.

The tavern and brothel are lavishly decorated with carved serpents and roses - and the occasional wolf and unicorn stag.

Faith She keeps a shrine to the Undying, as well as a scattering of more "heathen" ones - the Serpent Queen among them, and I imagine what deities would pass for good luck, fortune, and thieves in this world.

Sight & eyedrops After she was raised from the dead, her right eye became serpentine: a physical mark of her resurrection. She keeps two small bottles of an alchemical solution at all times: one to cloud the eye over, leaving only the faintest trace of yellow right at the edge of her iris, and another to undo the first. I think she gets these from Wyrmwood's, primarily, but I think seeing her approach the Moon for it could be neat! something akin to the historical drops of belladonna used to enlargen pupils, but [tyra banks vc] make it fantasy.

In addition to the uncanny appearance of her eye, there is also the issue of what she sees with it. When left "untreated", whether by eye drops or eye patch, Zoya sees shadowy figures and strange lights - traces of something else, beyond mortal ken. I headcanon that it's maybe a mix of the sheer cost of resurrecting her for the necromancer – an especially noticeable chunk of magic was infused/intertwined with Zoya – and maybe there's a touch of something latent within her? Who Can Say. I enjoy leaving it ambiguous!

Underdogs She has a soft spot for underdogs and unlikely victors - she tells herself it's mostly narcissistic, as it's a simple fact that they mirror her – but truth is there's empathy involved, though she often elects to ignore it. (It’s easier, that way.)

Delusion As a result of her resurrection, and the curious circumstances surrounding it, Zoya has struggled with the occasional delusion / compulsive thought that she is dead – a walking, talking corpse. It's gotten better over the years, but she will wear gloves for comfort when it's at its worst, and is always wearing perfume - a light touch on good days, and a heavier layer on bad ones.

She has a love/hate relationship with the scent of rot: it can set her off, especially meat that's gone bad.

Scent & flowers Both as a result of her delusion, and simply because she likes it, Zoya has an extensive collection of perfume oils to wear - florals, amber, spice; scents that tickle and intrigue.

In addition, she always keeps a large amount of flower arrangements wherever she is staying, whether it's in the Rosewood Maiden, or her home. Again, it serves many purposes - she likes flowers; she feels the scent masks her own when she struggles with thinking that she's dead; she associates them with the necromancer that brought her back, and she feels it keeps other necromancers "at bay" – the flowers will wilt before she does, essentially. They serve as a measuring tool, in that sense, as well as passive lifeforce for the eventual necromancer.

Magpie She has certain magpie tendencies – she enjoys the spoils of wealth, the security of it, to be sure, but she has an eye for the strange. A favorite are supposedly enchanted or cursed objects – she still remembers the stories she read as a child, and she feels a certain kinship to them, in an odd way. (She, too, is a cursed thing.)

extras.

† character tag † playlist † pinterest

plot ideas.

connections.

THE CHARIOT Her relationship with the Chariot is two-fold: on one hand, she very much enjoys the little deal they’ve struck, though she’s well-aware she may need a contingency plan should they try to back out. On the other, she roots for underdogs, much as it pains her.

There is a part of her that sees herself mirrored in them – and perhaps the Chariot is nobler, or at least better at acting the part of someone with morals, but they are both of them still tied to that nebulous nothing, and she wonders what they would do if put on the throne.

I would like to see a certain tension, maybe a twisted understanding, between the two of them! She enjoys the idea of what she could do if only they #let her in, and I think she could provide an interesting counter to their more tragi-heroic energy.

THE LOVERS While Zoya spends a lot (a lot) of time adding to her tapestry of reputation at court, she can be both charming and kind in turns – when she wants to be. I think the Lovers maybe remind her of her childhood friendships, in a strange sense. I think she’s curious about their standing and relationship to the World, but there remains a simplicity to the kindness she displays around them, regardless – she isn’t only using them, but the cogs still turn in her head. I think this relationship could be a good fostering for a side of Zoya that few get to see, which excites me! I also very much enjoy the potential of the Lovers talking to her about their thoughts re: the king.

THE MOON Again, she enjoys the relative power she has over them – and I think a more cruel part of her maybe enjoys toying with them. They owe her a debt, and she won’t let them forget it: they have a little foothold in the castle, now, and one day, she might have use for it.

I think the intersection between Zoya, Armel and the Moon could be really fun, that’s it that’s the pitch. JK. I also have some #thoughts on her maybe commissioning them for eye drops, which could provide an interesting back-and-forth between Zoya and the Moon, especially if they feel that it levels the playing field some.

STRENGTH Strength is absolutely someone she enjoys toying with – and they make it so easy that it almost isn’t fun. (But only almost.)

I would like to expand upon their possible past dealings, concerning Strength’s mercenary company, and also I’m a sucker for the bear & wolf imagery, NGL.

THE TOWER She wonders deeply what exactly hides beneath the Tower’s exterior. The part of her that simply likes stoking chaos to see how far she can push it finds itself circling the Tower – as does the part of her that might in fact like to see justice done to the king.

I headcanon that depending on the timeline, she may not have been present for the Tower’s Incident at Court, but I think she’s definitely heard about it – most likely from one of her brothers. It’s fascinating to her – morbidly so – that the Tower now works for the king, despite what they’ve been through. Yet again, she wants to prod, as is her nature.

suggested connections.

THE STAR He is talented, and she appreciates as much - and he is utterly wasted on the court, who no more respect him than they appreciate him. WE LOVE A BARD JULIE. WE LOVE HIM. dark mirror to Armel re: stories!

wanted connections.

NECROMANCER the necromancer who brought her back Yolo

FENCING TUTOR idfk seems sensible

COMPATRIOTS Her little host of underbelly compatriots! Criminals who help her with her dealings, people loyal to her.

future plots.

CRIMINAL EXPANSION.

I have some headcanons about the Rosewood Maiden, and I also have some suggestions for future ventures for the good ol' Prince of Snakes - namely, fighting pits, betting rings, and potentially an underground tributary river and an old smugglers' cove right beneath the Rosewood Maiden.

– i just want criminal shit and could also see this working in the favour of the rebellion – smugglers route used to ferry supplies and people in and out of Tyrholm? hell yeah baby

– masquerade balls and Events. zoya got CASH she’s gonna host PARTIES and talk about KILLING THE KING (maybe)

– the initial focus is DEFFO on the rebellion but like listen i………. am simply a sucker for fantasy crime.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

Internal-- I think that Zoya's internal arc will largely be a battle of her dual drives: her greed/gluttony versus the parts of her that see injustice being done. It's a moral conflict that I think has seeped into every aspect of her life – the things she has done and the lengths she is willing to go to, versus the part of her that knows it's morally reprehensible and even fucked up. Duality & paradox is an abstract concept that I return to for Zoya – she is both calculating and impulsive, which means she has the potential to do stupid shit despite knowing how stupid it is.

I think I'd like to push her in a direction of having to fight with her impulse to use people while caring for them – because the two cannot coexist for long, IMO! And I think that that particular internal conflict can get Juicy

writing sample.

IN WINTER, DEAD THINGS FREEZE. She wrapped her coat tight around herself, the fur-lined collar warm against her neck. Fresh snow lined the cobblestone streets of Hightown like a fine dusting of powdered sugar, little candied houses on parade with cream-tiled roofs. Bells tolled the hour in the distance, their chorus echoing across Tyrholm, midnight, midnight, midnight–

Midnight was a witching hour, or so the stories said. What was strange became stranger, and in dark woods, a traveler might strike a bargain with a hag. But there were few hags to be found, in Tyrholm proper, at least of the magical variety. (None that wished to be found, at least. She'd looked.)

The air smelled pleasant: it was the scent of cold, brilliant and ruthless; strangely sweet.

Her hands clenched into fists, leather gloves creaking.

She breathed in – rough, eyes fixed on the nearest torch. She could picture it in her mind’s eye – the rosarium, rotting; sweet and acrid all at once. Her boot dug down into the fresh layer of snow, crunching it beneath her heel. In winter, rot and death all froze, just like the Tear. Alive, alive, alive.

She curled her mouth into a smile.

IN SPRING, DEAD THINGS THAW. Ilarion Nathair was, unlike his sister, not a frivolous creature. Once, he came close – though his close-cropped head of black curls and the noble set of his shoulders might certainly convince passersby that he had never so much as stumbled upon a mischievous thought in his entire life, let alone acted on it.

But Zoya knew better. Zoya knew him.

"Ilya," she said, and as though they were weights levied by the same pulley, his brows swept into a frown as she grinned, wide and incorrigible.

[twxntrash]

Sail

Day 3: Disney/Ghibli

A late submission for Day 3 and loosely based upon Frozen. 

@lapidot-week​

There were several things that over the past few weeks that Peridot had become painfully aware of.

The first was that magic did, in fact, exist.

The second was that she did not have the patience to be someone’s ‘guide’ through the turbulent ocean waves. Waves that, she should add, they shouldn’t have even been at for another several miles. Somehow, through magic in the aforementioned point, the ocean had expanded drastically. Thankfully it was mostly valleys and mountains that it submerged rather than cities and villages. Stroke of luck, even if it pissed off the sailor.  

The third? Royals were nothing but pains in the ass, especially magic wielding blue haired princesses who kept demanding that Peridot take her as far away from people as the ocean would allow.

Peridot should mention that it was also the princess’ fault for the sudden ocean expansion as well. Apparently, from what she could get out from the royal, the girl threw some kind of tantrum when she met her betrothed, a soldier of Queen Yellow’s kingdom, and her magic had some kind of lashing out. Now, she was running away from home, responsibilities, and a meathead of a fiancé.

Not that Peridot really cared. So long as this Lapis Lazuli water witch paid up when this voyage was over.

Peridot hadn’t even wanted to do this. She was just a simple navigator and craftsman. She built small, easy to manage boats for small crews, occasionally she joined merchants on their expeditions if the gold was good enough to be their navigator. She liked to consider herself one of the best navigators in all of the four kingdoms. When the flood came, well, of course the blonde had been surprised.

All Peridot had done was be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She went to a traders, intending to resupply before taking to the seas. She may have gotten into a small argument with the trader over the cost of the supplies she was getting. What could she say, the man had upped his prices to a ridiculous amount after the flood, she got mad, said that he should show respect for one of the kingdoms best sailors, then got kicked out.

Well, technically she was thrown out. Literally. But that was a trivial detail she liked to ignore.

She’d been ready to just give up, head back to her boat with her trusty companion, Pumpkin, when out of the blue came a woman dressed in blue. She threw a sack at Peridot which held her supplies and some more, demanded that Peridot take her across the ocean. Even when Peridot said no, the woman followed her until Peridot gave up and, though she gave the woman a high price for the voyage… imagine her surprise when the woman said she’d pay double.

As much as Peridot may not have been looking forward to taking some woman across the ocean, she couldn’t say no to gold. Besides, Pumpkin had taken a liking to Lapis almost immediately. She’d be lying if she didn’t say it was kind of cute how he’d just curl up beside the woman and sleep.

She eyed the woman, who she had only learned was Queen Blue’s second born daughter after they were already a day at sea. Lapis was leaning over the edge of the boat, staring at the water intently as she brought up a thin tendril to the boats railings. The woman really was something when it came to water.

“So… magic,” Peridot hummed as she glanced back to the stern of the boat. So far they hadn’t any destination in mind just yet, Lapis just said ‘away from the kingdoms’ and, well, they were sailing away from them, “Born with it? Cursed?”

Lapis looked up at her, “Born with it, I think,” she said and looked back to the ocean, “I’ve had this power for as long as I could remember. Unless I got cursed as a baby… I don’t really know how,” she admitted as she let the water fall back to the ocean, leaning against the railing. It was clear that it was taxing to control the water as she did. Beads of sweat were appearing on her forehead. It was amazing that she’d managed to cause such a massive flood of the kingdom when she could barely even keep the ocean calm for more than a few minutes without her legs buckling under her from the exhaustion.

Peridot had half a mind to tell her to take it easy, but didn’t. One of the things she learned was that Lapis didn’t appreciate people do anything that could imply she couldn’t handle something. She’d been snapped at to ‘mind her own business’ when Lapis had nearly collapsed the first day when trying to manipulate the currents in their favor. The woman had more bite to her than a hungry wolf.

Instead, the short blonde shrugged, “We’ve made some good distance,” she said offhandedly, pulling out a compass from where she kept it hung around her neck. They were heading northeast. There was a small island they would be stopping at to resupply since Peridot hadn’t had the time to properly supply her ship for two before being commissioned for this job. They’d reach it by nightfall if the ocean kept like this. She couldn’t help but glance back at Lapis who had now sat down, petting the ginger dog affectionately, “You really sure about this?”

Lapis glanced at her, “What do you mean?”

She could feel the hard look in her eyes even without looking, knowing this was a landmine she was stepping into. She swallowed and kept looking out to the ocean as she steered the ship. “I mean, are you sure about your isolation plan? It’s going to be pretty lonely, don’t you think?”

“I’ll only put others at risk if I go back to the kingdom, or find myself in a city,” Lapis responded quickly, almost robotically, “If I lose my cool, get upset, the ocean will lash out at people.”

“Still, I can’t imagine being lonely will be any better,” she knew from experience how bad isolation can hurt you. She looked up ahead, then dared to look back at Lapis. “We’ll be stopping at an island tonight, it doesn’t have too many people living on it, plenty of space for you to keep from others,” and enough people she could go to if she found herself in need of help. The group that lived there were a friendly bunch. Rose Quartz, the town mayor of the port they would dock at, Beach City was such a softie.

“I see,” was all Lapis said in response.

Peridot frowned at the disinterest in Lapis’ tone.

If she dropped Lapis off there, Rose would be more than happy to keep her company, she knew none of the islanders would mind too much if Lapis had powers. They were, for some reason Peridot couldn’t fathom, all about embracing what made them different. If she didn’t find herself comfortable with the ‘Crystal Gems’, a name Beach City’s self-proclaimed defenders gave themselves, maybe she’d fit in with the other group of islanders, the ‘Off Colors’. Yet again another odd name the group gave themselves.

She couldn’t help but not feel right about it, regardless of the choice.

“You know,” she said out loud, looking back to Lapis, “you don’t have to go to some desolate island to stay away from everyone.”

She was given a dry laugh, “Would it be better if I go live atop a mountain with a castle of ice to stay away from everyone?” Lapis asked sarcastically.

Well, it was quite the mental image, she could easily imagine Lapis conjuring up a palace of ice while screaming bloody murder at the whole world to stay the fuck away from her. “As nice of an idea as that probably is, no,” Peridot shook her head, “I mean, well, you could stay here. On this boat… with me?”

There were several things over the past several weeks that Peridot had become aware of during her voyage with the runaway princess, Lapis Lazuli of the Blue Kingdom.

When Lapis was happy, her eyes would light up like the starry night sky, shining brightly with pure joy, and was a thousand times more beautiful than the dark sky dusted with bright stars and a glowing moon.

Her laugh, and that snort she let out, was precious in more ways than Peridot could describe. She found her days becoming brighter and warmer whenever she heard Lapis laughing, knowing the blue haired woman was enjoying herself so much.

That Peridot had, uncontrollably, without a doubt, fallen in love with the water manipulating princess who had barged into her life. That Peridot wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the princess when their voyage came to its end.

Silence enveloped the ship. The only sound to be heard was the waves lapping against the ships sides and the wind against the sail. Peridot couldn’t help but feel as though she had stepped out of line.

Of course she’d stepped out of line! Who was she kidding, to think that Lapis would even be interested in staying with her on a ship! She was a royal, for crying out loud! Why would she want the life of a sailor when she would be much happier on land where the ground was firm and steady beneath her feet and she always had a roof over her head to protect her from the storms.

She was a clod! A clod! A clod! She should have kept her mouth shut, she shouldn’t have offered. She should have just—

“I can really stay?”

The voice was so small, clear with surprise and… hope.

Peridots train of thoughts came to a screeching halt and she slowly turned to face the princess who was staring at her with eyes wide in disbelief. She felt nerves bubble up inside her and she weakly nodded. “Yeah, if you want, I mean. If you wanted to stay, I’d gladly welcome you.”

Lapis looked down at Pumpkin who stayed snoozing in her lap, and then back up at Peridot. “I’d, I’d really like to. I like it here, with you.”

The two didn’t say anything else, faces both burning as they avoided looking at each other. They’d said what they needed, and left more unspoken. But, the message not said was there, and maybe with time they’d say to each other those three magic words. Confess to what had developed between them during the several weeks at sea together.

But, for now, those words did not need to be spoken for them to be happy.

[artfulgeekgirl]

Did you notice I changed the tagline for the blog?  You’ll note that it now announces that I am an ‘erratic’ blogger. As much as I wish it weren’t true, it is.  I haven’t been able to post here since before Christmas! I could give you a lot of excuses, running my online tech and website creation business, lack of a really decent camera and recording setup for videos, the flu, snowstorms…. the list could go on forever.  They are all true.  Plus, the fact that I love blogging about my art/papercrafting and it always makes me feel guilty when I sit down to write a post.  A wee, little voice whispers that this is for fun, and I must have ‘real’ work to do. So please forgive me when my posting gets erratic. I’m going to try to hush that wee, little voice and get back on track.

I thought I’d start simply with one of my current Craft Crushes.

Watercolors.  I know, I know, everyone is into watercolors now.  There must be a reason right? 

I think for me it has a lot to do with moving past the Artist Loft cheap set and seeing how different other options, particularly professional grade watercolors, are. That’s not to say that when you’re just starting out that Artist Loft isn’t a valid choice. However, if you’re feeling a bit bewildered about just why everyone is so nuts about watercolors right now, do yourself a favor and try something at a higher level.

Below is my own progression, and three great options at three different price points, for you to try.

Peerless Watercolors:  These were the first watercolors I purchased when I became frustrated with the chalky nature of the Artist Loft set.  I purchased both the Complete Edition of 15 colors and the small Bonus Pack of 40 colors because…well because I wanted as many colors as possible.  One of the reasons I chose Peerless is because they come on what is called a dry sheet.  Intense, concentrated watercolor is loaded onto a special fabric paper and dried.  Originally invented in 1855 for hand-coloring photographs, they are packaged in leaflets for easy transport. In fact, they are so concentrated that looking at the dry sheet really doesn’t tell you what color it may be. Touch the color loaded paper with a wet brush and watch the magic happen.  An orange might end up being a soft flesh tone. An eggplant purple ends up being a soft beautiful jade.

#gallery-0-7 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 25%; } #gallery-0-7 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

The biggest reason I invested in Peerless first was their portability.  I created a palette with heavy watercolor paper, dividing it into a grid and gluing a small 1“ square of the larger dry sheet into each square. Beneath each square I did a small swatch of what the color actually looked like and numbered them all. On the front of this super flat 9” x 6” booklet palette I have the numbers with the actual color name next to them for reference.  These are the watercolors that stay in my travel art kit because they take up so little space but provide such vibrant and transparent color that blends wonderfully.  When I use up a square I simply snip a new one from the original sheet and replace it in my palette.

The cost isn’t bad at $15.00 for the 15 color Complete Edition.  If you’re like me and need more colors, the small Bonus pack will cost you another $23.00. Still for 55 quality watercolors $48.00 isn’t bad at all.

Jane Davenport Watercolor Palettes:  I was so very excited when Jane Davenport announced that she was going to have her very own mixed media line at Michaels. I’ve been a huge fan of Jane for several years and was even lucky enough to take a class with her through the Ever After online course I took this past summer. Her amazing whimsical girls  have been an influence on my own art and her Beautiful Faces book is currently in my cart at Amazon.

I hoarded my Michael’s gift cards I received for Christmas and waited somewhat impatiently for the Jane Davenport collection to arrive at my local store.  The first day it was available I purchased both the Bright and Neutral watercolor palettes. Each comes in an adorable little tin (the neutral came in a GOLD one!) with 12 half pans of watercolor goodness. I love the colors like 70’s eyeshadow and Kiss Kiss. While these sets aren’t billed as  professional watercolors, they are perfect for art journaling, card making, and all kinds of papercrafting. The colors are rich, transparent and mix wonderfully to create new and wonderful colors.

#gallery-0-8 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-8 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

If you’re someone who likes to know the details about your paints, Jane has all the info about lightfastness and pigment colors listed on her website.  I adore these watercolors and especially love the skin tones in the neutral palette, which means I don’t have to mix my own skin tones every time I paint a whimsical face.

At $29.99[1] a palette, these paints are a bit more expensive, but worth it.  Not to mention a great bargain when using a coupon for 40% or 50% off.

Daniel Smith Watercolors:  Daniel Smith Watercolors are high quality, professional watercolors. Yes, that means these are some super expensive paints.  Worth. Every. Penny. But probably not an investment everyone is going to want to make.  As I have become more serious about my artwork, I found myself drawn over and over again to these paints.  Other artists that I admire like Jane Davenport have sung their praises.  I’ve watched loads of YouTube videos of artists swatching them and exclaiming over the incredible color and quality.  I’ve been lusting after them for almost a year, but at what seems to be an average of $8[2] for a tiny 5ml tube and $15[3] for a slightly larger 15ml tube, my dreams of a huge colorful palette of Daniel Smith watercolors seemed pretty doomed on my budget.

Then I discovered Artistic Katt on Etsy. Shandra, the owner of the shop, hand pours Daniel Smith watercolors into half pans and sells them in this more affordable format.  I send out a thousand thanks as she makes it a bit easier to build a Daniel Smith palette, learn what colors we love and then simply purchase a tube when our half pan runs low.  I purchased the 8 new colors that Daniel Smith recently released and the Perfect Transparent sets. And while the $120.85 that I spent combined can still be considered expensive, it was much, much cheaper than it would have been buying tubes of all 18 colors. That said, if the colors you love are available in 5ml tubes, they may be just as inexpensive on a website like Dick Blick. For example, I did a price check on seven of  the  colors I want and it was a little cheaper to purchase the 5ml tubes at Blick, so sometimes it pays to price check.

Why are they so expensive?  It will take one dip of the brush into the half pan and you’ll notice the difference immediately. Luscious, transparent and buttery can all be used to describe the experience. The pigments are so rich that a little bit goes a long, long way.  These paints are made for professional artists and longevity of their artwork. I haven’t had a moment of buyers remorse at all. In fact, I already have about 10 more colors favorited for another order from Artistic Katt.

I should note that I use all three of these watercolors in my art and papercrafting. I haven’t abandoned any of them.  I have however given my Artist Loft set to my granddaughter.

If you’re ready to explore watercolors, I can wholeheartedly recommend all three. If you’re short on space or like creating on the go, the Peerless are perfect.  If you want something that works for stamping, cardmaking, mixed media as well as your artwork- the Jane Davenport palettes are great.  And if you’re ready to get serious about watercolors do yourself a favor and try some Daniel Smith.

If you’d like to see the colors from all three brands swatched, you can watch my YouTube video below where briefly explain how I made a simple swatch book and do a flip through.

[1] This is the cost in the US. JaneDavenport.com also sells them Internationally where they are priced in AUD, as she is in Australia.

[2] The lowest price I saw for 5ml was $6.86 the highest appeared to be $10.33 for some of the Primatek colors made from genuine stones.

[3] The lowest price for 15ml I saw was $11.71, the highest $22.11 for genuine Lapis Lazuli or Kingman Turquoise.

Craft Crush: Watercolors- Peerless, Jane Davenport and Daniel Smith Did you notice I changed the tagline for the blog?  You’ll note that it now announces that I am an ‘erratic’ blogger.