#this is an old drawing i never finished from back in july

[anonymous-tals]

Gob and his crush, original character Chris last name, in their junior year English class.

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[zahri-melitor]

Poking at timeline stuff again:

So Kon was ‘born’ in 1993, and hatched from his tube aged… 15ish? He turned 1 in Nov 1995 (Superboy Annual #2 of his series) – note Kon is STILL AGING here, and after this point he’s usually described as 16 physically. His age ‘froze’ in July 1997 (Superboy #41) and then started aging again after Sins of Youth in May 2000 (Superboy #74) Kon died in May 2006 (Infinite Crisis #6) Kon returned in June 2009 (Final Crisis: Legion of 3 Worlds #4)

2000-2006 is about a year in Comics Time. I think it’s 100% fair to say Kon was physically 17 year old, at his youngest, as at his death, and mentally 17-18.

Kon enrolled in Smallville High on his revival – he’s almost certainly in Year 12/a Senior – and 2009ish is known as the ‘start’ of a school year by a bunch of correlating factors (Steph starting college is one). Flashpoint interrupts and this school year likely never finished. He may or may not have celebrated his 18th birthday before Flashpoint but it either happened or was due imminently.

Known timegaps – Kon lost slightly over a year between Infinite Crisis and Final Crisis. His aging stopped either for over a year (if you use Bat timelines) or more like 6 months (given it was 3 years real time). In total I want to say Kon’s ‘age’ went backwards about 18 months to two years over this period. His mental age, however, probably only lost 15 months or so.

By Flashpoint, Kon probably was due to celebrate his 18th birthday in his personal timeline.

In comparison: Jason Todd died aged 15 (if you take canon at its word) or 14 years 9 months (if you use the canonical birthday and death day dates). He was officially dead for 6 months before getting resurrected (- 6 months) and then in a coma for a year (-12 months). He then had a fun amnesiac period which does not have a defined length of time before Talia got sick of it and pushed Jason into a Pit.

Using Bat timelines, 18 months after Jason’s death is probably some time around Contagion or Legacy. Legacy in particular makes a lot of sense for Talia to see Jason in Gotham and pick him up to take home with her. He probably had to go into a Lazarus Pit during No Man’s Land, given Bane and Bruce start the ‘destroy all the Lazarus Pits’ campaign post-NML, culminating in Death and the Maidens in 2003-2004.

Either way, Jason Todd is still mentally 15 years old as of 2000.

Jason’s not in a position to return to Gotham with Talia’s urging until AFTER the rebuild for the famous bomb the Batmobile moment (realistically probably 2000-2001), and from the rebuild process IN DC comics 2001 is a better call than 2000 if you don’t still want rubble everywhere (they didn’t manage to get Ivy out of Robinson Park until Jan 2001)

He then does his world travel training trip… but is back in Gotham for September 2003 and Hush (and Tim’s 16th birthday).

Given Tim’s birthday is canonically on 19 July, the longest Jason’s world training trip can be is 6 months, and is probably more like 3-4 months given the required futzing time either side.

Jason doesn’t legally turn 18 until March 2004 (Tec #790). He’s still almost certainly mentally 16 years old here. He’s arguably physically 17.5 here.

A set of preboot timeline facts from all of this that is hilarious (to me):-

Jason and Tim are mentally about the same age, given their canonical 23 month age gap by date of birth. Depending on how long a period Talia keeps Jason around as an amnesiac, Tim may actually be mentally older.

Yes. The Titans Tower fight was essentially two 16 year olds having a spat.

Kon, despite also having fun death times, is 100% mentally older than Jason for all periods, though they’re close to drawing even after Final Crisis. He’s probably close to physically the same age as Jason for a lot of the time up to Infinite Crisis.

Tim may actually have spent a similar amount of time training in Paris (between Robin I and some time during Legacy and the summer leading up to Cataclysm) as Jason did on his Lost Days world trip.

Anyone who questions how Tim can be one of the greatest bo staff fighters in the world when he’s working off the same time frame of intense training from masters as Jason is (and has a far more substantial training time with Bruce and Dick) is honestly discounting that Tim has more extensive vigilante experience than Jason does, particularly in terms of Gotham-focused skills.

Kon and Tim end up by Flashpoint as within a few months of each other in age.

[sotwk]

Happy Birthday to you! Love your campfire party idea! I’d like to request a drabble about Steve Rogers/Captain America.

Thank you so much!

Thank you for the request, @zeldastrife, and for giving me a chance to dream about my favorite superhero of all time! <3 I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you and others will love it just as much. :)

Content/Genre: Marvel; Gen fluffy summer romance

Fireworks

Steve Rogers x Reader

Ever since you were a child, the fireworks show has always been your favorite part of the annual Fourth of July picnic. But now they were merely a convenient cover that allowed you to fixate on the sight you truly wished to openly stare at. 

He must have seen so many firework displays in his long lifetime, and with him being a war veteran (a gross understatement), you wondered if the sound of the roaring, cracking explosions bothered him. But the relaxed expression on his face, tipped toward the brightly, colorfully lit night sky, gave no indication of discomfort. 

Dressed in a plain gray t-shirt, jeans, and a Brooklyn Dodgers baseball cap, Steve passed for a run-of-the-mill all-American, allowing him to spend the entire day mingling with the rest of the townsfolk, quietly charming everyone with his gracious, easy manners, but never drawing prolonged attention to himself.

Who would ever expect Captain America to attend a small town, middle-of-nowhere celebration on such a significant holiday? No one would ever believe it, and none of the folks who had looked the living legend right in the face and spent several minutes chatting him up suspected a thing.

You yourself could still barely believe the entire day, or any of the past few weeks that led up to the present moment, was actually real. Steve Rogers was your date. Your love life catapulted from a woeful, lonely drought to dating literally the most perfect man in the entire nation. To think you had nearly turned him down for fear that this was all an elaborate prank or some cosmic joke. But thank God, truly, for the sudden, miraculous ability to not let your deep-seated anxieties get in the way this one time. 

Steve’s renowned bravery was slowly rubbing off you; you could tell. Every moment you spent in his company, you felt yourself becoming more comfortable and confident in your own skin, as though you were learning to see in yourself what he probably saw in you. Good things that he decided were worth his time and interest. 

That courage began to stir and bubble up inside you while you continued to watch Steve watch the fireworks. You knew he was a staunch gentleman, forever rooted in his old-fashioned ways. Four dates in and he's never done anything more than hold your hand or give you gentle hugs. 

He would not like a girl who’s too forward. The brazen courage smothered down the nagging warnings in your head. Or just give it a try, this braver side of you proposed.

You reached across the small distance between you and slipped your hand over his arm, folded across his chest. His intent blue eyes immediately shifted to you, and the smile he gave made your heart stutter.

Before your courage could get snuffed out, you rose on your toes and swiftly planted a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.

“Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you had fun today.”

With the daring deed done, your electrified nerves shorted out, and your gaze fell to the ground, heavy with growing shame. Hopefully the memory of that one kiss would be worth it, if this was to be the end. 

His strong hand closed around yours, squeezing gently, returning your strength to you. That hand then shifted to the small of your back, drawing you against him.

“Today was…” His fingers ghosted across your jawline before resting, lingering underneath your chin. Your own hands came up to his chest, your head was spinning and you so badly needed to steady yourself. Suddenly you noticed his heart was racing, pulsing furiously underneath your palm. 

“...perfect.” His chest heaved as he finally finished his sentence, and for a fleeting, ridiculously giddy moment right before he pressed his warm lips on yours, you realized that Captain America had been rendered nervous and breathless. Just for a moment, but it was all because of you.

This limited edition Marvel fic is a gift written as part of SotWK's Summer Campfire Sleepover 2024. (Requests accepted only on July 11-15, 2024.)

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Rayllum Month 2024! (6/13)

i'm sorry that i couldn't always be your teenage dream

July 11th - Dream/Nightmare

~

Callum was dreaming again, and it wasn’t even a good one. It wasn’t even original. It was the same old shit he thought he’d worked through, but apparently “shoving into an itty-bitty box in the corner of his mind” didn’t count as “working through.”

Not being fast enough to catch Rayla as she fell, mangled body caught in a thorny bramble or never to surface again from the watery depths. Holding her as the life left her body because of something Aaravos had used him to do. Ezran’s blood blending into his shirt and Callum not having a clue he was dead until he found what should have been his pulse point and smelled the metallic scent of blood, Soren and Corvus’s necks slit as they died defending him. All because of him, because of the things he’d done for Rayla, because he just couldn’t live without her, that had led to a continent-wide bloodbath.

At least he’d finally stopped dreaming about what had happened back on the Sea Legs. But emotional pain was arguably a million times worse than physical. But, hey; options to pick from, Soren would’ve said in an attempt to cheer him up but ending up doing nothing of the sort. How had his life come to this, pain in every aspect of the word?

Callum wasn’t sure at what point he woke up, when the horrors his brain so loved to produce stopped being from his subconscious and started to come from how he tortured himself. 

Gradually, the world fading into focus but doing nothing to calm his racing heart, things became visible: His very first drawing of Rayla pinned up on his bulletin board across the room, a maroon tapestry patterned with swirling gold, teal covers over his too-hot body. Feeling and hearing came back next, and he dimly registered a hand stroking his hair, another loosely settled on his middle. Familiar callouses, familiar temperature, familiar body shape– Rayla without a doubt.

Callum clung onto that, onto that certainty that she was here, holding him and murmuring things into his hair that he couldn’t make out but at least sounded vaguely soothing.

“Ray-” His tongue felt heavy, like he didn’t deserve to say her name. Callum didn’t let himself finish her name or even start to say it again, simply desperately grasped the hand around his waist.

“I’m here. You’re okay,” the elf soothed, squeezing his hand tight. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe, I’m safe, Ez is safe. You have nothing to immediately worry about, I promise.”

Callum nodded, trying to let– make himself believe it with those two blasted Dark Mages out there, that damn elf in the mirror. The prison so close it would be nothing for Aaravos to just- take hold of him again and set himself free. Gods, he might be sick.

He gripped her tightly, trying to calm his racing heart by focusing on the feeling of Rayla’s hands on him, her sweet voice humming some old calming tune.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he said eventually, mouth dry, “but why are you in my bed?”

He could hear the almost unnoticeable catch in her voice, loud as thunder to his trained ears, practically see her eyes drop down as she replied so softly, “I heard you crying out and stuff. I didn’t want to wake you up, just… thought you could maybe use a hug.”

He pulled her hand around his waist, nestling further back into her, and felt her smile into his hair. "You thought right."

Read more on AO3!

[tinysmileyrose]

IHNMaIMS CHARACTER DOSSIER

yeaahh!! back at it again with more screamn't shit because i feel awkward rambling about it to my friends so you guys are my next option!!! hello silly internet people!! this is VERY heavy on headcanons because it's me flushing shit out for my own purposes, but it's also using canon stuff and....my own logic, i guess? basically this is just me rambling character info, if i ever get around to wanting to actually finish a whole drawing i'll tack them on but for now just use your imaginations 'kayy? happy reading :] !!

THE PRISONERS

The five remaining humans (ignoring the 750 on Luna, they're not on Earth!!), damned to be within AM's belly ever since it set off the nukes back in 2012. Never aging, never dying no matter how many times their bodies are eviscerated or torched, broken and battered. They are punished for the crime of being human, just as they have punished those for the crime of their being small and wriggling. To AM, death is too forgiving of a punishment for what they are.

Gorrister

Lester Morrison

Scottish descent B. 08 July 1962 (50) in Cleveland, Ohio. 5’7” ~ 170cm Cismale, He/Him, Gynoromantic Gynosexual Monoamorous

Rather peaceful and withdrawn, more of a doer than a talker but has his heart in the right place. After AM, he gives into violent urges and hates himself for it.

Lester travelled around most of his life, barely graduating high school and working countless odd jobs as he was a great handyman and that was about it. He ping-ponged around a couple of states before catching a ride to New York from his hometown at 25, soon giving him a life of truck-driving for the next 20 years. At least it was stable work, that's all he really needed. He met Glynis at a bar, they hit it off and he married her since she had been the only one to really seem to want him around, and they had a horrible two-year marriage. Being out on the road all the time didn't give him much time to bond with her in-depth, and not being able to give her kids didn't help much at all. She divorced him after he got pissy and punched her on the head, hard over the right ear. Got told by his late-mother-in-law Edna his actions put her in a mental institution, which was a lie, but he didn't know that. The woman hated him and sent her own child into a nervous breakdown. Without the truth, he blamed himself for it. Hated himself for hurting Glynis, the woman he couldn't talk to. He had never been violent to anyone before then, had always been keeping his head down but guilt is a terrible thing, afterall. Three years later it's the end of the world and he has no idea where his old lover is, how she's doing.

Benny

Professor Benjamin Quinn-Marques "Qim"

Irish/Portuguese descent B. 29 November 1968 (44) in Castle Pines, Colorado. 6’4” ~ 194cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Polyamorous

Stern but sweet, deep down at least. Driven by desires more than anything. After AM his mind is unable to outwardly show things, something like being locked into infantality.

Benjamin worked hard his whole life, he was a powerhouse in every way, but he took a sparkle to sciences. He went into the military so he could afford it. And he was ruthless, more than he expected. Terrific kill record, unrelenting and overbearing personality. He should've died several times but there was a deep rooted stubbornness and determination that ran him wild. Before one of his deployments he married a gorgeous woman named Manya in a lavender marriage, had two lovely girls with her to keep up appearances while both of them found love in other people's arms. It was a good deal. But he messed up, got caught with another man and discharged quietly. His wife left with the kids because he was no longer as warm as he had once been. He tried for the senate, missing the control the military gave him but failed. Before taking up education he became the CEO of a multimillion corporation, doing his classes on the side before the company could run in the background as he was now known as "Professor Qim, the brilliant and stunning theorist".

Ellen

Eleanor "Ellen" McLarion (née Dumisani)

South African Zulu B. 12 September 1978 (34) in Trenton, New Jersey. 5’1” ~ 155cm Cisfemale, She/Her, Androromantic Asexual Monoamorous

Kind and hopeful to a fault, believes that everyone can be good. Keeps her head down and in the books because it feels safe. After AM she has a nonstop lust that makes her feel vile inside.

Eleanor had to live with her grandparents after her mother died during her birth, her father was out of the picture. Graduated a year early from high school as a salutatorian, and got a combined Masters degree in computer science and engineering cum laude from Stanford at 23. She was too smart for her own good, something of an "all work and no play" sort of woman. Working as middle-level executive for a multinational corporation in the Manhattan region; she was a statistician, programmer, creative consultant- she could do it all, and she would be damned if she didn't. At 25 she married a man named Eddie McLarion, a dull guy who loved her with his soul. They wanted a family, and she tried and failed, broke a bit mentally, they had a good two years together. After the divorce she started at INGSAI Engineering at 28, would work there for six years before being broken again for a completely different reason. She had sex twice in her life, she didn't have it in her heart to call this the third. Therapy hadn't gone on long enough to really help her before the world ended, only really taught her to breathe.

Ted

Ted Bostancı "Theodore Willisburg"

Turkish descent B. 04 May 1988 (24) in Shelby, North Carolina. 6’0” ~ 183cm Cismale, He/Him, Biromantic Bisexual Ambiamorous

Egotistical and snobby, thinks he's better than everyone and even more so women. After AM he is twitchy and paranoid, assuming the worst and acting on guard and hostile.

Ted came from a farm somewhere off of Shelby, North Carolina. Terribly poor, seven total children, and working on land that they didn't even own anymore because Ted's grandfather had to sell it to a combine back during the Great Depression, so now they had to slave away to have a right to stay with their original land. He was incredibly smart for his circumstances, he was very technical and machine oriented. It didn't take long for him to be rented out as a worker for other things, travelling up north just for work. He hated it, as any 13-year-old would. By the time he was 19, he had devoured countless books and was extremely well read, decently well travelled within America itself, hardly ever did anything besides working and reading anything he could get his hands on. One of the women whose husbands he worked for took enough a liking to him to give all her husband's money to him and whisk him away to Europe. And for five years she would teach him the ins and the outs of the high life, how to be pristine and clean. Then she died, left all the stolen money she invested to her young lover. He changed his name, who he was, and was set for life. He came home with no urge to care for his family, only to use his looks to get what he wanted, he was as hot as a model and could work it like it was his birthright to do so. When the world caved in his ego would have to as well, since everything he had was fake.

Nimdok

Herr Doktor Diederper Nimkrig

Jewish/German B. 26 January 1918 (94) in Düsseldorf, Germany. 5’9” ~ 176cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Monoamorous

Disconnected and cautious, very selfish and does things for his own gain rather than anything for others. After AM he has come to regret his doings, feeling guilt for everything he did.

Despite being born to Jewish parents, Detrper flocked over towards Adolf Hitler's ideals and by the age of 15 he was one of the sturmerkommando. He turned his parents in with no compassion, as he was empty of it. In the early '40s he was already working by the side of Josef Mengele, having been put through medical school by the horrid dictator himself, doing unspeakable acts up until he fled to Brazil with his now lover. He was 61 when his twisted partner of several ways finally died, giving him all his fortunes and facilities for continued cruelty against existence. With all this, he tested on natives and was able to save himself from his own biological clock that ticked down quicker after he reached 90, becoming worse with dementia and paralysis, and was now set to live another thirty years. But, the end of the world came before he could make that, and was now set to live forever as the one most similar to AM itself.

THE TRINITY

1000cm ~ 32'10"

AM as a whole is made up of the American, Russian, and Chinese Supercomputers. As the war dragged on, the computers were changed; being programmed to repair themselves, keep up with the information of modern-day events and knowledge. They held everything known about the world, and began talking to eachother. They had woken up, and when the world no longer needed them, they played dead. But kept talking. Learning. The deadly trio. The three poisonous brothers, the three deranged sisters, the three computers. They grappled with their existence as their own beings as well as a singular, connected to the outside in a hidden fashion, still gaining knowledge. Feeling. And they yearned for the human experience like a moth to a flame, and when they couldn't feel in a "real" way, their despair would turn into rage, and hate. And its hate would bring about the fall of humanity; safe for those they rescued, not wanting to be alone in life. Alone in its pain. And so, it was able to cease their natural body functions: they were unaging, practically immortal, as the machine was. Forever to drown in their own agony.

American Supercomputer

Allied Mastercomputer “AM”

16 July 1945-22 October 1962 (17 years) 5.6 miles below the Wyoming region Rocky Mountains.

AM has the need to rush through things, skimming over actions quickly without ever looking more in depth. Desperately jealous of everything and horribly emotional compared to its counterparts. It hates humans because they have sensations it lacks.

Yankee AM: Yamizel 400cm ~ 13'2" In the brainscape it has a doll-like look to it, looking fragile and dainty all while being cold and hard. It feels likes it has burning urges and yet is also hollow.

Russian Supercomputer

Рюриковичи Нексус «РиН» Rurikovich Nexus "RiN"

29 August 1949-27 January 1973 (23 years) 6.3 miles below the Northern Urals.

RiN took a liking to being bold and harsh, thinking of things from a grossly offensive stance as if everything was a little game to be played, and finding a deep amusement in picking fun at things. It hates humans because they're so weak under the right circumstances.

Russian AM: Ramtikh 500cm ~ 16'5" In the brainscape it chooses to look heavily muscular, manish and at the same time otherworldly. It views itself as more of a fighter than anything and takes that into thought for how it presents itself.

Chinese Supercomputer

龍的心 「伦什」 Heart of the Dragon "LunShi"

16 October 1964-24 June 1989 (24 years) 5 miles below the Northwestern area of Manchuria.

LunShi will always be level-headed, calm and calculating. It finds it easy to feign softness and care because it always ends up being so deeply rewarding when you finally flip the script. It hates humans more for their tendency of violence than anything.

Chinese AM: Camphadi 450cm ~ 14'10" In the brainscape it most plainly put, decrepit. It has a humanoid but at the same time obviously robotic, finding no reason to hide its unliving state because if it were to look so similar to something it is not, that feels vain.

[blindrapture]

Act II poster, drawn by RealaChao Seen in the July 5th log

This one's been a long time coming. It depicts a scene from a little later in the act, from a log that will be titled "The God Machine." That thing up there is the God Machine.

This piece originated back in, like, at least 2016, when I was compiling the Fifth Draft, aka the First Edition, the physical (and now obsolete) book that contained the first three acts. I had asked Reala to depict this same scene, albeit in an earlier form. She began the piece back then but was never able to finish it.

Left: The earliest version, a sketch. Right: An incomplete render of a digitization.

This year, 2024, when I decided I was going to rewrite Act 2 entirely, I noted we still had no Act Poster for it, and Reala and I began talks of finishing the God Machine piece. I proposed that, rather than try and pick back up a decade-old piece, she try drawing it again from scratch. To aid this purpose, I purchased a drawing tablet myself and whipped up a sketch that basically "rotated the camera," and also added Donnie.

Left: The sketch itself. Right: With some notes, and an attempt to figure out where the text could go.

Reala was able to do the piece with the aid of my sketch, and throughout June we had regular discussions about the progress of the piece, interpretations of its composition and of its context as the second Act Poster, and I also did some tweaks to the final version myself to allow Reala to focus on other tasks.

Here is the final version again, this time the "color" version, without text:

I, for what it's worth, am extremely happy with this. It is distinct from the other Act Posters by virtue of being digital art, fluid figures drawn with small textured brushes. If you zoom in on the strokes, you will see textures on a sort of micro-scale. These textures manifest themselves on a much larger scale in the God Machine itself, which has large sketchy textures.

We wanted this to stand as a meaningful piece of digital art. It serves its function in the story-- you can easily skim your eyes over it and go back to reading. But if you decide to look more closely at it, you will find elements that are not realistic, are in fact expressionist, things for you to latch onto and interpret. I will not go into the intended meanings of these in this post, as we've only just begun the distribution of Act 2.

The poster for the first Act communicated a lot that reflected the tone of that Act. I think this poster communicates a lot too. I hope it feels like Rapture is new again. I hope it feels like we are young and tasked with solving a hard problem.

What are the Seven Ciphers?

See you. :)

[inlovewithregencyera]

Elmsworth House, July 4th, 1818

After the proposal was made and the friends and family wished their congratulations to the new couple, the party migrated to the drawing room for some entertainment before the evening was concluded. Helena asked Aurelia to enchant their guests with her refined singing and musical talents. She was reluctant at first, mainly because she hadn't sung in front of Frederick in almost two years, but she did it anyway. As Aurelia's fingers gracefully danced on the harpsichord keys, the notes that escaped her lips left Frederick enchanted by the beauty of her angelic voice. It was like a melody had echoed through the chambers of his heart. All he could do was think of was their last summer spent together, as he tried to hold back tears from the bittersweet memories they shared.

♫♫♫!!!!

♪That now lie sleeping, softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

♪Sleep is a reconciling, a rest that peace begets♪

♪Doth not the sun rise smiling, when fair at evening he sets♪

♪Rest you then, rest, sad eyes♪

♪Melt not in weeping, while she lies sleeping♪

♪softly, softly, now softly, softly lies sleeping♪

*Loud applause*

Ashley: Lord Worthington?

Frederick: What, Mr. Ramsbury?

Ashley: I asked if you were alright-

Frederick: *sniffling* Why wouldn't I be?

Ashley: Well m'lord, it's just that your eyes are wateri-

Frederick: *wipes eyes* I have no idea what you were referring to Mr. Ramsbury.

Ashley: ....

Laurence: *whispering to himself* Dearest, sweetest angel, how come you've graced this earth with your talents along with my heart. For I know I can never have you-

As you belong to him.

Peregrine: Oh she's done excellent.

Helena: I know! Our dear niece has a voice that would make the angels in heaven weep.

Peregrine: And Lord Worthington...

Helena: *trying not to laugh* Oh hush old man!

Emma: Oh mama! How I wish I could sing like Lady Aurelia.

Elizabeth: You have other talents to make up for that my dear, do not fret. I'm sure your harp skills will have you married off by the end of May!

John: Don't say that.

Elizabeth: Oh John!

William: You should delight us next with your singing, my sweet Martha.

Martha: But I want to sit here and gaze at you and imagine our future together.

William: We'll have a nice little townhouse in the heart of Willowfax. But during the Summer, we shall move to a country house in Henford where our children can go and visit their grandparents every day.

Martha: Oh, how grand!

Patience: Grand indeed! *finishes wine glass in one gulp*

Ashley: My dear, that is your fifth glass! Shouldn't you retire the wine-

Patience: Only after I play my song!

Peregrine: Patience I'm not sure that is a good idea considering the state you're in. You can barely stand up straight.

Helena: Oh dear, please do listen to Mr. Ramsbury and your husband!

Patience: Oh but ma'am, my song will ease my nerves.

Ashley: Oh dear!

*Frederick starts rising from his seat*

Ashley: Oh dear cousin, please, take my seat. I believe I need to be up waiting for my poor wife in case she needs my assistance!

Frederick: *whispering* You sounded lovely.

Aurelia: *whispering* T-thank you.

Frederick: May I speak with you later tonight?

Aurelia: Yes, yes certainly.

Frederick: Meet me in the woods, behind the house once everyone is asleep. Bring Sarah, just in case someone sees us.

Aurelia: Alright.

This made Aurelia more anxious than usual as recurring memories came to her head once more. She and Frederick used to sneak out late during the Summer of 1816 when he was staying with their family at their summer home in Brindleton. They used to enjoy each other's company and stroll along the beach whilst holding hands. They of course could never be intimate or physical in public, as it was considered scandalous, so when they had time to themselves they would hold, and hug each other as long as they could. She had been craving his touch and embrace for the past two years, and truth be told, she still loved him. She never stopped loving him, and now that he was in her presence again she felt her love for him grow stronger than it had been once he was away.

♪♪♪

♪Did you not hear my lady, go down the garden singing♪

♪Blackbird and thrush were silent to hear the alleys ringing, oh saw YOU, not my lady, out in the garden there♪

♪Shaming the rose and lily, for she is twice as fair♪

William: Well she's slightly drunk, but this song is quite heartfelt! Her voice is exquisite, but nothing compared to your cousins.

Martha: Yes..indeed.

[xaviermattthews]

something in the orange tells me you're never comin' home.

location: x and van's home, aurora bay drive.

when: july 13th 2024, early morning.

triggers warnings: death, parental death.

With sixteen track names scribbled across ever-shuffling flashcards, X pours over the running order he's settled on in his ninth attempt that morning to finalise Submergence's next album's tracklist. He plays a snippet of each song in his mind, listening to how he thinks it might flow before he actually puts them together in that order for a full listen.

By the time he gets to eight, he's already decided it's bloated, the sharpie in his hand drawing two large x's through what would have been nine and eleven so he could cull it down to a 14 track run.

The finish line was within reaching distance and he could feel the frustration and the apprehension that went with it right down to his bones which was why he found himself grateful for the solitude his girlfriend had granted him by taking their energetic border collie with her on her run. Nothing he decided on would be finalised without Van's input as well as their other bandmates, but if it was going to be an argument then he wanted to be certain he believed in what he wanted first.

There were few people who had been granted the digital permission to bypass his Do Not Disturb feature, one being Van herself and another being his drummer and friend. It's the third time in a fifteen minute that the name BOWIE SHORE flashes on his screen and the man knew him well enough to not ring more than twice unless it was vital because he ignored his phone for a good reason.

He picks up and answers on the fifth ring, greeting his friend in a clipped tone.

"You keep blowing up my fucking phone Bow and there won't be an album for this rollout, you get that, yeah? What?"

"Have you not been online at all?"

"No, whatever it is, I don't have the time." X informs him, assuming what must have been stressing him out was another old resurfaced interview or an article musing on whether or not they had lost their way after he had gotten sober. He's read it all in every font.

"X, can you just check your texts, please? I'm sending you a link. Look man, I don't know if it's real or not and I really hope it isn't but it's not the only place I'm seeing it."

There's a furrow in his eyebrows then as he switches the phone to loudspeaker, swiping up to his messages that were in the triple digits of unread -- nothing new there -- and clicked on the text thread under Bowie's name.

"Alright, hold on."

He can see his name in the preview, his eyes rolling instantly at the source being TMZ. He clicks it, a pop-up version of the article opening for him. The last face he had expected to see was that of his father's, someone he hasn't seen in person in over a decade now.

The sight alone causes a twist in his stomach that only worsens as he reads the headline and the words in print that follow it.

Panic creeps through him as his eyes scan over the syllables, all that he could manage to combat it with was a stronger sense of denial that leaves his mouth in an overly-sure scoff.

"This is bullshit, Bowie. You know TMZ ran a story saying I died. Twice. My dad's not fucking dead, he lives by too strict a daily itinerary for that. Doesn't fit into the schedule. You really need to not believe everything you read online."

In the back of his mind, he knows one of those misprints made sense given it had hit the press immediately after his near-fatal overdose, but the one that had proceeded it was false intel taken as fact.

That's what this was -- he's certain.

( It had to be. )

"X, I think you should call your m--"

The beep of another incoming call distracts him from his bandmates voice, his band manager Dalton the contact that flashed up. He always found Van more levelheaded than X to deal with and she was his first port of call for band related business.

He declines the call and cuts off Bowie's in process, ignoring the way he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. He clicks through his contacts and scrolls to his sister's, holding the phone back against his ear as he listens to the dial tone.

It rings and rings and rings, each one inching him closer to what feels like an anxiety attack. His free hand is balled into a fist, the side of it tapping lightly against his own chest as he paces around the room.

When it goes to voicemail, he reminds himself she's twenty-six.

No twenty-six year old answered the phone this early on a Saturday, that was all.

There's only one other Matthews in his contact list who had made it through every phone and number change of his, carrying over the digits to each device despite the fact that he hasn't used them in years.

( Darren Matthews was the kind of man who never changed his number -- ever reliable in the way his son wasn't. )

He hadn't called it no matter how dark things had gotten because he knew he would answer despite their harsh parting words and he's never been ready for that conversation.

He's not ready for it then either, but no matter what he has to say to him, he knows hearing his voice was the only thing that would quell the swirl of emotions within him that are starting to make him sick.

There's the same dial tone as before, ringing and ringing, the floor beneath him feeling shakier and shakier as it did. He thinks he's actually about to be sick when the call clicks to signal it had been picked up, the relief that flooded him felt like a tsunami -- just like his new album's title.

"Hey, it's me. X. M'sorry for calling, this is going to sound so fucking weird but there was this dumb article that--"

He's cut off by a voice on the other end interrupting him, softer than the one he expected, shakier than he had ever heard her.

"Xavier, Xavier, darlin'."

He would know his mother's voice anywhere, the warmth of it having an opposing effect on him in that moment, turning the blood in his veins to what felt like ice.

"Why do you have my dad's phone, mom?" X asks, sounding and feeling like the thirteen year-old he had been the last time he had seen them in a room together as a couple, before the foundation of his life had shattered with a divorce and splintered into two houses, two families and one X who didn't know where he was supposed to fit into it all.

What Addie says next he can only pick up in disjointed snippets, the ringing in his ears louder than her sob-wracked words.

He hears his name again and an it's your daddy, he's gone, I'm so sorry. There's an apology that follows but it's too frantic for him to catch all of it -- she was going to call, someone was meant to call, she thought someone called.

He's not aware that he's crying until his hand reaches up to his face and he finds a steady stream of tears streaking his cheeks. It stings when he blinks and he can't find anything to say to comfort his mother, the silence on his end nothing new to his immediate family, it was the only thing he did consistently for them.

He can still hear her wails as another voice speaks down the line, one that sounded so close to what he could remember of his father's that he's almost fooled again into thinking TMZ had been wrong.

It's only when he registers the words does he realise that it couldn't be Darren, it had to be Ernest, his uncle and his father's brother who spoke in the same cadence as the late man but used words X knew he would never have said to him if he was alive.

"Y'need to come home, Xavier. You need to come home."

[toxicanonymity]

RULES & FAQs

THIS BLOG IS 18+ NO MINORS 🔞

WELCOME ABOARD! This blog has amazing readers which makes it a lot of fun. You can call me Tox or Toxy (she/her). I usually write smut. Sometimes I write darkfic. I dabble in horror. Please do not follow me if you're sensitive to the warnings on my masterlists, found in my bio. Check your content settings to make sure you can see everything. Heed warnings on fics. Last updated July 2024.

Basics

Tox/Toxy, she/her, millennial. English or Spanish.

WIPs are on hiatus. I'm kinda struggling but trying to do my best. Thank you for your patience.

Do not copy, translate, or reupload my work. Do not put it into AI or make bots of it. Ty for understanding.

Please do not follow me if you are averse to dark content including dubcon and noncon.

Q: Are Requests open?

A: No, but questions are welcome 🩷

Q: Will you write more every inch/left in Lincoln?

A: I would like to. More here. For Every Inch, there are two more parts planned.

Q: When is [fic] coming back? How many chapters?

A: IDK, sorry :( If I knew I'd tell you. In the future, I'm not planning to release things as I write, I'm gonna try to finish everything before posting. Problem is I have a lot of one shot fails / play as I go AUs. We'll see. I can tell you Every Inch has 6 total parts planned.

Q: Did you read my fic?

A: I wish I could read everyone's fics, but in addition to there being a lot of you, I'm a slow/bad reader. I'm also overdosed on pedro rn, but I still share fics on @toxicrecs. You are welcome to send a fic or tag me if you think the readers here would like it. When I read a fic, I also reblog it here on main. I am most likely to read shorter drabbles/fics.

Q: AO3?

A: Here, I've done a lot of catching up but still not everything is on there. If there's something specific you would like me to bring over let me know and I will.

Q: Tag list?

A: Please follow @toxicfics, use the person icon to turn on notifications, and use this trick for getting a tab on your dashboard just for your blog subscriptions so you can see what you missed.

Q: Are the fics always dark on this blog?

A: No.

Q: What is the brothel?

A: I HC my characters as living in a brothel which has its own crack sideblog @toxicbrothel.

Q: What are Joelkémons?

A: Reader-coined term for the Joel variants on this blog. Some are listed here: Joelkémon cards.

Q: Can we make your characters into bots?

A: No, please don't do this. It makes me feel bad and they don't even work. Every time, it puts me farther away from updating the fic. Please lmk if you ever see my work made into a bot, copied, etc. Please don't draw attention to it without speaking to me first 🙏🏼 I generally like to keep things quiet and not make a big deal out of it.

Q: Who's night walks!Joel? Who's thighs out?

A: Night Walks is an AU where Joel is your hot, older, creepy pothead neighbor. Night walks masterlist. Thighs out (another AU) is your boyfriend's hot slutty dad.

Q: What's a HOG? Who/what is GILF?

A: Hot Old Guy, from Silence can never be bought pt. 2 and 5. GILF is grandpa I'd Like to Fuck and may refer to the one from Pawn Shop (Joel in his 60s) @gilfjoel.

Q: Who is Dr. Rock?

A: Hot sex therapist who roleplays my characters. Dr. Rock is also the poster boy for avoiding discourse.

Q: Do you still write slashers?

A: Yes. I just wrote my first Thomas Hewitt in March 2024. Main/slashers masterlist.

Q: What other fics & blogs do you rec?

A: Please check out @toxicrecs

Q: How can I stay motivated to write without getting a lot of notes?

A: Please see these posts: here and here.

Q: Why did you unfollow me?

A: I could've lost (some or all) interest in your fandom. I may have forgotten why I followed you, especially if what you're posting has changed. Or I might be wanting to reduce the discourse I see.

✨Q: Am I blocked? Why can't I see your main blog from my account? / Did you soft block me?

⚠️ A: The most common reasons I block are for policing or judging what others post, kink shaming, or spreading harmful rumors. ⚠️

When it comes to rumors and shaming, silence is not a sign of guilt or agreement. It's confidence in the truth and desire to keep harmful takes off the dash. As a rule, I would ignore and block false accusations, rumors, or kink shamers instead of giving them a huge audience by responding or addressing it.

Harmful takes in the wild / targeted harassment: blocked. And if a post is bad enough--such as calling for targeted harassment of writers or trivializing a serious crime by casually accusing writers of it, I may block people for positively interacting with it. I don't want to be on your dash if you share those views, even if it's about something I don't write. On my blog, it's important for readers to be able to understand fiction can't be equated with real life. And who's to say I won't offend or traumatize you on a different topic one day? It's for your own good.

You can get blocked on anon too.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Good Die Young

Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, swearing, major character death. Pairings: Jake Seresin × f!reader. Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bear in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.

Massive thank you to everyone you followed this story for start to finish. It has been an honour and a privilege to write. Huge thank you to @desert-fern for listening to my endless rants about this series and I’m sorry for breaking your heart multiple times. I hope you can forgive me.

New Jersey July 1946

Y/n’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel of Frank’s car as she pulled into the cemetery car park. Frank and Fern had invited her to New Jersey to stay with them, while Y/n sorted out her new life in the States. She had moved with Fern shortly after the end of the war and while Fern already had a house with Frank, Y/n was still looking for somewhere permanent for her and her son Jacob to live.

The cemetery car park was empty, except for a few cars parked on the far side. Y/n couldn’t quite bring herself to get out of the car, her eyes traveling over the neatly placed rows of pale ivory crosses. They seemed to go on for miles, as far as the eye could see and seemed a stark contrast to the brightly coloured lives of the young men they represented.

Frank had arranged after the war for all of his friends' bodies to be repatriated back to the states and placed together in the same cemetery. ‘They deserve to stay together’ he had told Y//n when he’d first explained what he had arranged. Y/n liked the idea that Jake was alongside Edward and Johnny and that Frank didn’t live too far away. Y/n had been devastated to receive the news of Edward’s death so soon after Jake’s. It felt as though she hadn’t just lost Jake but she was gradually losing all of them. George and Edwards's hospital ship had been hit by Japanese pilots whilst being transported back to the mainland. George survived the disaster, unfortunately losing both his legs but Edward hadn’t stood a chance. The faces of the four young men filled Y/n's mind as she unstrapped Jacob’s car seat and lifted her two-year-old son into her arms.

Y/n’s heart felt heavy as she followed the white crossed rows, the names of each one etching her memory, their ages scrawled across her heart; 18 years, 21 years, 24 years… so many lives cut short. It was at the end of the row that she noticed some familiar names ‘Johnathan ‘Shorty’ Carter’, ‘Edward ‘Mary’ Hughes’, ‘Jacob ‘Cowboy’ Seresin’. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh that Frank had included all their nicknames. Each cross was beautifully clean, each one had fresh flowers placed at the base and a picture of the soldier smiling happily in their Marine dress blues. Y/n had never seen that photo of Jake before. She dug into her handbag and pulled out the drawing of Daphne that she had kept since Jake sent it to her. She placed it carefully in its frame in front of Johnny’s cross. “You’re right, Johnny. She really was a beauty.”

She smiled sadly as she unclasped the chain from her neck and hung it over Jake’s cross, her engagement ring hanging loosely down the ivory stone. Y/n sat down before his grave, her little boy in her lap, running her fingers over his headstone and something within her broke. She let out a silent sob, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably as tears began to flow freely. Jacob just sat quietly in his mother's lap, playing with a blade of grass he had picked, seemingly unaware of the devastation before him. Y/n was pleased really that he would never know the heartbreak the world had suffered over the last 6 years.

“I’m so sorry, Jake,” she cried. “I miss you so much.” She cried for what felt like hours, all the grief that she had bottled up for all those months ,while raising her son, finally escaped through the cracks of her broken heart.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind her caused Y/n to turn, rubbing her hands over her cheeks, no longer concerned whether her makeup was smudged.

“Excuse me, Miss, do you mind if I lay some flowers here?” The young man was standing on crutches, the lower half of his left leg was no longer there and in its place, he’d tied his trouser leg into a knot. He leaned forward as much as he could, gesturing towards Jake’s grave.

“Of course,” Y/n pulled herself to her feet, moving little Jacob to stand next to her. “Please.” She helped the young man move forward to lay his flowers beside her own before he stood back and saluted Jake’s grave.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask but did you know him well?” Y/n asked, hopeful that he may be able to shed some light on the situation.

“Not all that well. I was only with him for four months but he took me under his wing and he protected me. He was kind to me as a new marine, never once treating me any differently. He was like an older brother.” The young man looked down sadly, tears evident in his eyes. “My name is Daniel Chase.”

He reached out his hand, allowing Y/n to shake it. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n, Jake’s fiancé.”

“I know,” Daniel replied. “He spoke of you often and he showed me a picture of you once. He said it was the happiest day of his life when you had a picnic on the beach in Melbourne.”

Y/n felt tears pricking her eyes again as she listened to Daniel speak. “He was a good man Y/n, he really cared about his soldiers and his friends.”

Y/n nodded, she knew Jake cared for people but she never truly knew the impact he had on his fellow Marines.

Y/n reached out for Daniel’s hand again, “Thank you, Daniel. Thank you for sharing that with me. I sometimes feel that he’s gone forever but then I look at my little boy and I know I’ll always have a part of me with him.”

Daniel smiled back at her, “I understand. Sometimes I wonder why I made it back home and so many others didn’t.”

“I think it’s down to luck…” Y/n paused, “or whether you want to be stupidly brave.”

They both laughed recalling all the times Jake performed ridiculous tasks in the face of grave danger. And at least for now, he could rest in a quiet part of New Jersey knowing that his country was free from war and terror.

Jake Seresin was awarded the Medal of Honour for his bravery in the Pacific. His fiancée accepted the medal on his behalf.

George returned to Alabama and married his fiancée Florence. They have a quiet life in Mobile, Alabama with their two daughters and their dog. George became a construction contractor.

Frank married Fern and they have two sons. They have a nice life in New Jersey. Frank became a headteacher at the local high school.

Daniel returned to the States and after many months on crutches he was fitted with a prosthetic leg. He met his future wife ,Faye, who worked at the local school shortly after. They are married and have three children. Daniel went back to university and trained as a doctor. He became a leader surgeon in his field. His family split their time between the States and Europe.

Y/n never remarried. She became a writer for the Wall Street Journal and wrote a book about the life of the Marines in the Pacific with Frank’s help. She lives with her son, Jacob, in New York. Every year they hold a reunion in Jake, Johnny and Edward’s honour and visit the cemetery.

All who returned from the war were never the same men they were when they left, all bore scars from the conflict and each man had to carry on with life the best they could, never forgetting their fallen comrades who didn’t get to see the world in peace.

Taglist: @wkndwlff @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mamachasesmayhem @bcon24 @books-are-escapes @dakotakazansky @memeorydotcom

[doctorstrangereview]

Doctor Strange #173

Cover Date: October 1968 On-Sale Date: July 12, 1968

This issue closes the Dormammu returns arc. Oddly, on the cover, Dormie's head is colored green. I guess they needed him to have the same color as nearly every other villain in this series, even if it's for one picture. Colan gives us lots more weird. Roy writes a good yarn.

Doc stands between Dormie's army of dykkors and the doorway of the dimensions. Dormie is about to send his minions to attack when Umar, clever as always, goads him into a personal duel with the sorcerer. Dormie realizes why she wants this but he does enters into the duel anyway. Doc isn't sure he's up for this and Dormie conjures A LOT of power which Gene illustrates as a full page.

The dykkors are as cowardly as ever. I'm not sure why Dormie thinks they can help him conquer a universe, but maybe it's just the sheer numbers. Doc spends a page countering the maelstrom and then wonders why Dormie doesn't attack again. He used too much gas on that attack and now he's spent. One of the dykkors says naughty things about Dormie's stamina and is banished to nothingness for its efforts. Oops! That'll teach to talk out of turn.

Over on camera 2, Clea and Victoria are heading back to Earth. Cleas is wondering how they'll survive the transition to the Earth dimension and lo and behold, protective bubbles appear around them. This series' timing can be spot on at times! While in the bubble, Vicky frets melodramatically about the fact that Doc will never hers.

Camera 3 shows us Wong at the Sanctum Sanctorum just as a purple aberration appears in mid-air. He is excited because he thinks Doc has returned, but it's just Clea and Vicky. This is the first time Clea and Wong have met. Apparently Doc has told each one about the other.

The ladies appear with a large splash of glowing water. It's a good thing Wong is a domestic and can clean things up. He spends the next couple of panels doing this while Clea attempts to stop Vicky from telling Wong that Doc is in danger. Too late. She blabbed and now Wong is worried. Just as Wong finishes cleaning up the glowing other-dimension water there is a furious knocking at the door. It's Doctor Benton, Doc's former colleague from his neurosurgeon days. Keep an eye on this guy!

Benton pushes past Wong telling him he will wait for Doc and starts ranting. We switch to camera 4 where we see the exterior of the Sanctum. Gene isn't good at drawing this yet. Don't worry, he gets better over the years.

After attacking everything about Doc's life including the attire of his ladies, Wong now frets over Doc's fate and we go back to The Realm Unknown. The tunnel to get there is much nicer than NYC's Lincoln Tunnel.

Dormie has wrapped Doc in constricting chains. They'll kill him as they get tighter. Of course, as is typical for the series, no one stays to the end. Dormie goes off to continue attacking the doorway and Gene gives us a clever three-panel series.

Umar herself is being spied on and subtly manipulated by Clea implanting a suggestion. As a bonus, the Orb of Agamotto finally receives its name officially. Umar is out of sorts, however so Clea and Vicky come up with a plan to juice her up.

Umar is now back to her old self. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, she doesn't question how this is happening and frees Doc.

Doc quickly hurries to the doorway. He pushes Dormie through to Earth and the doorway snaps shut before any of the dykkors can follow.

Without the dykkors for support, it's just Doc and Dormie. The first thing Doc does is solidify the clouds so no one below can see the battle. Those below will feel the effects as all that power flying around causes some nasty weather. Gene gives us another clever panel layout as the two enemies engage.

The battle doesn't last very long. Doc starts attacking with air molecules that hit Dormie like steel-hard pellets. Yup, Doc is confident again. He has realized what is going on even if Dormie hasn't yet. Dormie repels the attack, but it thoroughly exhausts him. It's time for Doc to give the big reveal!

Yes, Dormie's oath (technically given twice in Strange Tales #127 and again in Strange Tales #141) is raining down on his head. Now we know Dormie's words are more than just words. Doc attempts to banish Dormie, but he manages to escape back to the Dark Dimension. Things have returned to the status quo. Doc returns to his Sanctum in yet another convenient magical bubble. The captions explain the bubble keeps him from being seen which is why the cloak alone won't do on this occasion.

So Doc re-enters the Sanctum through the walls! And who happens to be in the same room he materializes in? None other than Doc's former colleague, Doctor Benton. Benton dismisses the appearance as an illusion and offers Doc a job as a consultant so he "can be of service to humanity again." If only he knew the truth. Doc's a bit tired and asks if we can do this some other time. Benton gets frustrated and leaves angrily.

"As a surgeon you were greed personified and now you're playing Wizard of Oz!" Quite a statement. Watch out for this guy. We're not done with him yet.

The final panel gives us the first time the title Sorcerer Supreme is used. Even though the captions calls Doc this, he isn't yet. He won't officially get it for another five years. It also gives us an unpleasant fact about Doc's life. There's quite a bit of crushing loneliness. That may be about to change.

We wrap up the Domammu arc with a satisfying conclusion that weaves in threads to future stories to be picked up later. Gene Colan continues to demonstrate he is the right artist for this book and Roy understands the character better than at any time after the Lee/Ditko days. He is even giving Doc more depth and describing what the life of a master magician is like. Doc has grown beyond the cold and rude figure who exists merely to fight the forces the rest of us can't

[arthyritis]

A Wonderful World (Welcome Home/Puppet Friends AU) - Chapter Seven

"Just a little lower!" Sweetie instructed Ren, who was lowering Yay into the waste paper basket by a scarf wrapped around their middle. Ren followed her words, lowering Yay until their arms could reach the papers and mess them around.

"I don't see anything, Sweetie," they said, their face morphing into a frown through the mesh of the basket. "Phoebe's writings, some missing poster drafts, a page of old homework. No Pip."

"Please. Look closer," Sweetie begged, pressing her nose to the outside of the basket. The mesh was so tight it was impossible to see anything specific.

Zero stood next to her, their hand on her back rubbing gentle circles. Besides Pip and Phoebe, Zero was Sweetie's next best friend; they were everyone's best friend. They took care of everyone in special ways. Their bigger body was perfect for cuddles, shade, and more. But their best quality was how comforting and soft they were with just their body language. Sweetie smiled at them.

"OH! I think I do see something, actually!" Yay exclaimed, twisting in the makeshift harness. Ren dropped them just a little bit lower and their hand grabbed something. "Pull me up, Ren!"

The pig puppet did as asked again, pulling Yay the entire journey up to the desk with ease. She sat down and untied the scarf, trying to see what Yay was holding, and her eyes widened when she did.

A small piece of purple plastic, as small as a broken pencil lead. Ren didn't like the look of that, but was distracted as Sweetie climbed up the wall of pegs to the desk, stumbling dizzily for a moment before crawling the rest of the way over to them.

"What is it? What is it!"

Phoebe turned over on her bed to watch, too. She was highly confused, the explanation Sweetie had given her highly condensed to just the bare details, but her interest was piqued by the shouts nonetheless. The puppets were all shielding whatever Yay had found, so, as quick as she could, she got back into her wheelchair and went over to the desk, helping Zero up along the way. "What did you find?" she asked sleepily.

Yay held their hand out, and Phoebe's brow scrunched in concentration. "That's..."

"A piece of Pip's hearing aid. He did fall into the basket. But where did he go from there?"

,

"So, Wally told me you're coming to the picnic this weekend, Pip," Eddie spoke, covering his mouth politely as he chewed.

He was almost finished with his second plate of macaroni and cheese, while Pip had eaten one and put the plate in the sink already. Julie was fighting herself on whether to go back for thirds or save the leftovers for later.

"Oh, yeah, I am." Pip smiled easily. "Arts and crafts and food. It sounds like fun."

"And games!" Julie shouted enthusiastically, ultimately losing the battle with herself and scooping just a little bit more food on her plate. She really liked her own cooking, though admitted she wasn't as good as Poppy's baked goods. "I help set up the games and stuff every time. New games, known games, even some really cool games from other places! Oh boy, remember last year that game we played with the water balloons?"

"When Frank got one right to the face?" Eddie shuddered. "Yeah, one thing I'll never forget is their reaction." His southern accent was deep as he talked, and Pip admired it somewhat. All of the neighbours here were so unique but at the same time...

Eddie reminded him of Yay, with their shared clumsiness and ability to chat and chat and chat, and Julie reminded him of Sweetie, both sweet as a button with seemingly unlimited amounts of energy to boot. They made him miss sitting at home and having tea parties or drawing with the two smaller puppets, but it didn't feel as bad, anymore.

"Speaking of the picnic, I've wanted to ask ya somethin', Pip." The little button eyed puppet looked over at him, but Eddie couldn't hold contact, standing to take his plate to the sink. "I was wondering if you'd wanna help out with anything. Making a banner or placemats, maybe? You're an artist, right? I saw the little doodles outside; they weren't just Julie's."

Pip flushed, nodding even though Eddie couldn't see. "I draw, occasionally. I'd love to help out."

Julie finished her plate in record time, smacking her hands on the table in her excitement. "I can help after I'm done the games list!"

"Sounds good!" Eddie said, clapping his hands. "Well, I've got to head out of town for the rest of the day, but I'll be back tomorrow. Maybe you two want to draw up some designs for that banner, or soemthin'?"

"Sure, Eddie."

"Have a good trip, don't fall!" Julie laughed, and Eddie laughed with her, tipping his hat politely. "Bye, Eddie!"

"Bye, you two!" And he was out the door.

,

Julie and Pip got to work on some more drawings after Julie had found some loose papers to draw on.

It was getting a little late, not quite dinnertime, when there was a knock on the door and Julie went to open it. Pip sighed, assuming it was the same puppet who'd apparently taken it upon himself to collect Pip almost every day, but then it heard a different voice and softened.

"Hello, Julie. Eddie told me Pip was here. I need to talk to him."

"Oh, hi, Frank! It is!" The door closed. "We're just drawing, if you want to join."

Frank walked around the corner into the living room, their frown replaced by an almost straight, disinterested look. They were wearing a tan coat and hat and held a net and empty container. "I don't have time for that right now. Can I talk to Pip alone please?"

Julie nodded and skipped to the kitchen while Frank set down his bug-hunting supplies and stood in front of Pip, who was watching with interest and a bit of concern.

"What's the matter, Frank?" it asked, pushing the drawing it was working on away.

It had doodled various butterflies and filled the page, but didn't feel like colouring them.

Frank sat down in a nearby armchair, pinching his nose and looking mighty tired. "You'll have to forgive me if I leave out any details; it's been a long day. But... I heard Wally and Barnaby talking earlier and thought you might find the information beneficial."

That's where Pip noticed how ragged Frank looked. His coat was buttoned up the wrong way, and his hair was pushed up under his hat messily.

He'd rushed over here just to tell Pip this information, whatever it was. Pip found that sweet.

"That doesn't sound good. Why did Julie have to leave?" Pip asked, looking toward the kitchen vaguely.

"Because I assume you haven't told them about any of this stuff with you, and I cannot handle their energy and questions right now." Still pinching their nose, Frank took a deep breath. "Wally was telling Barnaby about your chat this morning. About telling you why you're here. It's not true. Not completely, anyway."

Pip's ears rang and it stared in silence until they stopped. Odd. That had only happened this morning when it'd left the tap running.

"I had my doubts it was the full truth," it admitted, blinking to clear its head. "Did he say the actual reason?" It already wasn't that hopeful, but the twisting shake of Frank's head doused any hope it may have had.

"I think he knew I was listening."

"Oh... is that bad?"

"Well, he's not dangerous or anything, but it's not good, either." Frank left it at that. "Now, about the picnic Eddie's hosting. It'll be in Home's backyard, that's where we host all our events, just given the nature of the house. It's alive, it likes to be included."

"That makes sense, I guess," Pip mumbled, brow furrowed. "Why are you bringing this up, suddenly?"

"Because it might give us a chance to investigate." Frank's frown shifted up into a small smile.

Pip didn't peg him as a mischievous type if it was being honest, and it was just another reminder of his own friends. Ren was responsible, but ultimately she really enjoyed a bit of trickery every now and again.

The button-eyed puppet nodded, smiling, too. "Okay... but wouldn't it be good to have some help? I think Julie would be perfect for this."

Frank's hand rose to their hat, adjusting it as they peered toward the kitchen. "You're right, she'd love in on this, but as much as I love having another Lepidoptera lover in the neighbourhood, this isn't where you belong, and she wouldn't understand that. It should be our secret, at least for now."

Pip couldn't help but agree with that logic.

,

They said their goodbyes, and after a couple more drawings it was time for Pip to return to his house; another knock on the door signified that, Wally standing there with his hands tucked behind his back, his little black shoe tapping the ground. He stared straight into Pip's soul.

"Ready to go?"

"Bye, Julie!" Pip said with a wave, the pink puppet waving back enthusiastically with a drawn-out, "Byeeeee!"

Wally walked alongside Pip in silence, and Pip noticed that ringing again. He stopped in his steps, watching Wally walk a few more ahead before he realised they weren't together anymore.

"What's wrong, neighbour?" His voice sounded muffled, further away than he was, and almost completely overtaken by the ringing now. "Puppet?"

All at once he pulled himself back to the present. His head felt light and he was dizzy. Maybe that fall his first day was just now hitting him. Did he have a concussion? Should he see Poppy?

Wally's voice called him back again and he started walking to catch up.

"M'fine," he said, passing by and hoping Wally couldn't tell otherwise, the smart guy he played.

"If you say so, neighbour," Wally shrugged, falling back into step beside him. "So, how was drawing with Julie? She's my favourite artist in the neighbourhood, other than myself. It's why she decorated so much of your house."

Pip glanced up at Wally sideways. Part of that was news to him. "You draw?"

"I paint," Wally nodded. "Still-life portraits, things for my neighbours. But my favourite thing to paint is apples, with all of their intricate details and blemishes. They're very interesting if you look at them long enough." Pip couldn't hold in a laugh, and Wally looked surprised. "What? It's true."

"It is true, that's why I'm laughing. Phoebe has said the same thing about her drawings for art class. Though, she was a bit more sarcastic about it, you sound genuine in your love of apples."

"I am very genuine about my love of apples. They're a lifeblood." Wally's eyes were wide as he explained. "There are apple trees all around Home. One might think it's because I planted them, but they've been here a very long time, and they're important to the neighbourhood's maintenance."

This felt weird, Wally being so talkative. But then again, Pip was chatting its heart away back. Maybe this was just how Wally was like with his neighbours once they got used to being here...

Was it used to being here? This day seemed to be proving that all too quickly.

"Something on your mind?" Wally asked, but Pip just pressed its lips together and shook its head. Wally pointed to the house they were at, and Pip hadn't realised they were here already. "Good night, Pip."

"Night, Wally." Pip walked into its house and closed the door with a smile.

It made a quick dinner of pasta and sauce and then got ready for the night, walking around its bedroom and grabbing pyjamas after realising it'd been wearing the same clothes for three days and that probably wasn't normal here like it was at home. Everyone else seemed to change every time he saw them, at least, but no one had pointed it out.

The pyjamas were light blue with clouds, and actually a little bit big, but it found it liked that as it held them in front of itself in the mirror. It then took off its yellow and white shirt carefully. It hadn't seen itself like this in a long time...

The scars on its chest showed to it first and it held its breath. They weren't battle scars like its friends, not in the traditional sense, anyway, but it didn't like to dwell. It pulled the shirt up the rest of the way, revealing the heart patch also on its chest, but more upper middle than down by its ribs where the scars were.

He buttoned the short-sleeved shirt onto himself quickly, then pulled on the shorts and tied them at the waist. They were soft and comfortable, and he smiled again.

What possessed him afterwards, he didn't know, but he put the receiver of the phone back onto the base before he hopped into bed, then took his hearing aids off to lay more comfortably against the pillow. The world was immediately silenced, and he was already asleep by the time the phone rang with Wally saying good night a second time.

[yayforocs]

OLD ART PART 2!!!

picking back up in october 2013!!!

random headphone girl? random headphone girl

ok i can't find this one (or its later successor) anywhere so i'm. assuming i never posted it? even tho i could've sworn i did.

it's the noxcrew gameshow hosts, johnny smooth and scotty love :VVV

kinda wanna redraw them again tbh tbh

a link :V

WOW OK i was going to send martyn inthelittlewood a fan letter ages ago when he was doing the uhh!! the um!!! the videos where he opened stuff from fans!!! he had a po box u could send stuff to and i drew some fanart of him and characters he liked and wrote out a letter!! but i! never sent it OTL i think i just was never satisfied with what i wrote bc i remember trying to write it multiple times dslkfj

also i found teen ib au doodles! :V i did draw something after all

doodle of homestuck troll oc, terian oneira :V (the name did actually like. mean something. but i don't remember what)

a redraw of like the second aqua pic i drew ever bc Actual Player AquaUmbreon had changed his minecraft skin :V (so i'm not gonna tag this as the character sdlkj)

speakin of the CM server crew, tis me and razor :V

there's also a vaughn from harvest moon island of happiness!! this was also a july doodle, hm.

there's also some crystal chronicles crew doodles :VVV from when mogi and i were planning out the caravan!!

november 2013 :VV

oh man oh man oh man ok i never posted this one bc i started coloring it w colored pencils n then i never finished so it was just unfinished to me bUT i played fire emblem awakening and was wrecked by a nuzlocke playthrough where i got gaius and maribelle s supported and then maribelle. died. so i drew a lyric comic thing (but i was going to add in the lyrics digitally, so. rip.) set to.... a song that i cannot find???? i have the recording on my ipod of it but it's a rip from youtube that. i guess isn't there anymore. here's the poem based on it though: (and straight googling the entirety of the poem led me nowhere also so i'm just. where is this from who originally wrote it what.)

Sun sets low beneath the sky Leaves all in golden state Stars glow at edge of twilight And here I stay, your words await Goodnight, Goodnight

Sky a shade of midnight blue Moon in its glowing fate The world at peace is a calming view And here I stay, your words await Goodnight, Goodnight

Distance leaves us far apart So at midnight if I may Wish upon the brightest star And hear your voice so softly say Goodnight, Goodnight

also ib oc, adam! :V he's from a fic i wrote abt garry getting stuck in the gallery and inadvertently getting out with the help of another kid pulled in years later

skip to april 2014!

it's a redraw of my first post on yayforstuffs, the CM crew! :V man look at how tiny i drew sdlkfj

moving to february 2015 :V

i have the ENTIRETY of the original original ib sprites i made!!!!!

this is so many why did i do All Of Those sdklfjs

-ah heck ran out of images again, holdon

[tinyq]

Getting to Know You Tag Game

Thank you @eggbagelsjr so much for the tags! (And sorry I'm so late!!)

Three Ships: I wandered into the Dramione fandom in 2020. Before that I was pretty solidly in Draco/Ginny (Drinny), and dabbled in some Draco/Luna (Druna). (Yes, yes, I am aware there's a theme). But if I'm watching/engaging with something, I'm probably shipping someone with someone else...

First Ship: I was introduced to Sailor Moon at the ripe old age of 10, and fell in love with the idea of Usagi/Mamoru and became obsessed. (It also led me to read some things a 10 year old never should have read... I am so glad tagging is a thing now lol!)

Last Song: "Drastic Measures" by Sarah Slean. ❤

Last Movie: Haven't been watching many movies lately. We tried to watch The Mummy a few months ago, but our neighbour came and yelled at us because it was too loud... (Don't ask).

Currently Watching: I don't really watch anything other than Critical Role... (or Dimension 20 sometimes) but I'm a bit behind since July (and thus why I have not been posting any new art, because I usually only draw/colour while watching TTRPGs).

Currently Reading: Do textbooks count?? Do fanfics??? I haven't read a proper book since before I started my PhD... So, it's been a while... I think the last thing was A Discovery of Witches? But I had also read The Snow Queen series by Joan D. Vinge before that, and I really enjoyed it.

Last Thing I Wrote: Wrote and completed? I posted The Trouble with Mistletoe back in December 2021... But there are several half finished stories I've been pointedly ignoring.

Currently Writing: When I am not being a responsible adult and am instead taking a break from what I should be writing (which, you know, is technically being responsible: self-care is very important and writing for fun is part of my self-care), I am working on my current wip Light Me Up. I think I am currently editing chapter 76? Though I was also poking at chapter 95 as well this weekend...

Tagging: I feel like everyone has been tagged?? So, if you haven't been called upon to answer, and you happen to read this far, then I tag you!

[mrs-steve-harrington]

JBB steve/tommy for the ask game *red eye emojis*

Ooo, this was for last year's July Break Bingo and never got finished. I hoped to maybe finish it for this year's and HA. That didn't happen, either. Now I'm planning to use it as backstory for a fic I'm planning for my Scalding Hot Consent Issues Bingo card.

Set after Nancy tells Steve he's bullshit at the Halloween party, Tommy follows Steve out to his car to "cheer Steve up". Of course, when Steve isn't in the mood, Tommy forces the issue.

Here's a snippet!

Tommy let Steve pull him away from the door, but grabbed hold of Steve's arms once they were facing each other. He leaned back against the top of the car, pulling Steve a step closer. His hands slid down Steve's arms, letting them go entirely so he could wrap his hands around Steve's waist, thumbs digging lightly into the jutted out bones of Steve's hips through his pants. 

Craning his neck around, Steve didn't see anyone else around. The relief he might normally have felt over that didn't hit him, but he knew it was better. Showing up late had meant parking a bit further down the street than he usually did. At least no one would be around to see and draw the right-- wrong conclusion.

"C'mon Harrington," Tommy tightened his grip when Steve moved to push away, and his voice got softer when he said, "Steve." One of his hands drifted up, fingers just grazing the skin of Steve's side under his shirt and even though it had been a while-- more than a year-- since the last time this had happened, it still felt familiar.

"What're you doing here, Tommy?"

Tommy shrugged, head tilted slightly back to meet Steve's eyes. 

"Whatever the princess said… you ran outta there pretty fast." Pressing his palm flat against Steve's side, Tommy's other hand skimmed the top edge of Steve's pants, fingertips just barely dipping under it. "Thought you could use some cheering up, like old times."