#and working out ways for my absurd lighting to work in different styles was a fun challenge
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A bunch of webcomic Ralseis! I've been wanting to do fanart for all of these comics for a while and I've got an upcoming page of my comic that requires a mix of styles/shading, so I thought this would be good practice!
Eldritchrune by @lynxgriffin
Looking Glasses by @ferronickel
The Chara Timeline by @lilybug-02
Reconnecting by @purplebehittindifferent
Twin Runes by @akanemnon
Flat colors under the cut because I think you can see some of the stylistic differences better without shading.
#deltarune#utdr#looking glasses#ralsei#ferrousart#sorry recon!ralsei and tr!ralsei I think you're probably not that short but the composition worked better this way#this was so fun! it was really cool trying to figure out everyone's styles#there are bits of all of them that I really enjoyed getting to play around with#and working out ways for my absurd lighting to work in different styles was a fun challenge#I still need to do proper fanart for some of these comics but at least this is a start#lg!rals looks a bit uncanny next to all these cartoony styles. I'm glad er!ralsei is looming back there to balance things out
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intertwined starlight (modern alkaid)
“Ta-dah!”
…
…
…
You feel a little silly with your arms spread out while doing the good old jazz hands motion. Still, Alkaid doesn't miss a beat and applauds you enthusiastically.
You turn your gaze to the mirror, holding a reflection of both you and Alkaid. Little star and comet-shaped hair clips decorate Alkaid's hair, scattered about in an artistic chaos. You're in no better condition, with similarly themed hair clips in your own hair.
"We look silly, don't we?" you muse, laughing a little at how absurd the two of you look in the mirror.
"I think we look great," Alkaid replies sincerely with a bright smile. "These hairclips you made look amazing."
"Yours look great too, Alkaid. They're so detailed," you hum, reaching up to lightly touch one of the many hair clips in your hair. It shimmers and gleams under the warm, golden glow of the ceiling light above. "You really have an eye for detail."
"I like your designs more," he says, turning around slightly so he could look at you directly. "Your style of making things is my favourite."
"Happy to please!" you grin, leaning over to press a light kiss to the forehead of the seated Alkaid. "Oh, also! Hold on, stay there, let me just..."
A few steps across the room and a flick of a switch later, the room is quickly plunged into darkness. You hear your name being called out amidst the darkness, confusion clear in Alkaid’s voice.
“What…”
His question dies on his lips as his attention is caught by brightly shining lights in the mirror. Alkaid’s reflection is illuminated by countless stars of different colours, all coming together to form a little galaxy of his own. Giddily, you make your way over back to Alkaid, happy that the hair clips have worked as intended.
“I made the clips so that they would glow in the dark!”
Pausing, you remember a list you once sent Alkaid— one full of cheesy pickup lines.
“...Because you light up my world," you add.
Alkaid blinks owlishly at your reflection for a few moments before laughing softly. His eyes crinkle happily as he turns around to face you.
“May you come closer?” he asks.
“Of course,” you reply in a heartbeat.
As you lean towards him, curious, you watch as he unclips one of the many star-shaped hair clips from his hair. His fingers gently graze the side of your face as he pins the hair clip to your hair.
“There we go,” he murmurs. “My lovely little star. Though there’s nothing in this world that can compare to your brilliance, this will have to do for the time being.”
From the corner of your eyes, you catch sight of your reflection standing along with Alkaid’s. Two stars standing close to each other, basking in each other’s light.
You stare at him, flabbergasted, for a few moments before you laugh in defeat with warmed cheeks. “You sap,” you reply affectionately, leaning over to lightly bump your forehead against his. “It’s your birthday today, this is supposed to be about you, not me.”
“Is it?” he says with a hint of mischief. “What if I want to make it about you, though?”
His hand finds yours in the dark, fingers shyly brushing up against yours. With a grin, you securely intertwine your fingers with his.
“I’ll turn it around, then. I can talk about you all day.”
“Is that a challenge?” he asks cheekily.
“You’re on,” you laugh, squeezing his hand lightly.
The two of you lapse into a momentary silence, taking the time to listen to each other’s steady breathing.
“Happy birthday, Alkaid,” you whisper. “I’m glad I met you on that mountain that day.”
Alkaid hums quietly, his hold on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “Me too,” he replies quietly.
It takes a few moments for him to break the silence that follows. Alkaid’s voice is almost fragile yet resolute as he says sincerely—
“Thank you for finding me, my lovely star.”
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For the DVD commentary for The Rebound:
There was a chair, tucked under a desk at the corner and she dragged it over to the window. She perched herself here with her knees drawn to her chest, watching the airship move along, wondering who was on duty tonight.
She would be taking over from Saikhan in the morning- maybe he was inside. Her eyes drifted over the buildings and out to the bay, landing finally on Air Temple Island. It was a place she used to call home. She wondered if she could spot her own house and pressed her face to the window, trying to find it in the periphery.
No luck.
Her attention moved back to the Island. The lights were out aside from the soft glow of the lanterns adorning the walkways and courtyards. She wondered if anyone was awake. She imagined Tenzin in the bed they once shared with his new wife, happy and content.
She sniffled, reaching up with a shaking hand to clear the tears that ran down her cheek, threatening to overwhelm her. She took another sip of water in an attempt to distract her mind, but it kept working. She glanced back at Kazuo and felt a wave of self-loathing. Sex was just a bandage, she thought. Nothing will cure me.
Though the act of it had been enjoyable, the emotional aftermath was more than she bargained for. There was something about sharing her body with another that felt so final, as if she'd made an irreversible choice and life would never be the same again. Logically, she knew the notion was absurd as Tenzin was married and had most certainly done the same, but she felt the strangest sense of guilt in her chest as if she'd betrayed him, or herself.
She swallowed the rest of her water and mentally chastised herself for her inability to let go of someone who had made it quite clear he didn't want her anymore.
She could practically hear her mother's voice telling her to harden up and her face set. She wiped her cheeks one last time before willing the self-pity away and averting her gaze to park below.
(you ate this up ngl)
Ohhh thanks!
This is a fun one. I was feeling this scene when I wrote it because I could so clearly recall how I felt after I'd split with my long time bf and kissed a different person for the first time. I literally burst into tears hahahah. It was awkward.
But really, that was a feeling that stuck with me- this idea that after a long term relationship, particularly with someone who was your first and only (as I HC Linzin to have been) I thought 'god that must have been so jarring to experience someone else' and how weird it is to feel guilty in that moment, like you're cheating.
I also just wanted to make it clear Lin was trying super hard to move on but even after sleeping with someone else (and enjoying it) she was missing Tenzin and the way her life used to be.
And at the end there, I definitely think that whenever Lin finds herself in a particularly self-pitying mood she will automatically hear her mother's voice in her mind telling her to get the fuck over it lol.
Ask me for DVD style commentary on any of my fic!
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Crowley, Imprisoned
@mulasawala and I have co-created a piece of art & writing for the @do-it-with-style-events 2023 Good Omens Reverse Bang !!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/51645259
The gummy bears are bleeding human blood. A waste.
Crowley had enjoyed the only one he was allowed to try. Held in his mouth for a long time to draw out the experience, tongue tracing the smooth little curves, slowly sucking out the sweetness, a hint of peppermint, a tang of acid. Only when he risked its complete decomposition had he chewed it with unpractised jaws. Like jelly, only tougher, putting up more resistance.
His teeth had felt unfamiliar, tongue rougher than it used to be. Not enough saliva. He is rarely given anything to eat.
A handful of eight gummy bears lie scattered carelessly a few metres outside of his circle. Once, it would have been a trifle to wave a finger, apply some willpower, and have them in his hand.
Gum-my-be-ars. He holds the words in his silent mouth. Such strange new creations the humans of the World far away have concocted. New candies have appeared more frequently as his captor’s twisted parties became regular occurrences. Somewhere, the Great War is probably over. It makes no difference.
The blood does not dissuade him. It might add a sharp piquancy. The little candy creatures ooze the dark liquid, swimming in a pool rapidly bronzing into a sticky stain. He runs his tongue along the sharp metal bar of his cage to distract from the saliva forming around his teeth.
A thin scrap of dainty fabric dips a corner into the dark stain. The soft silk stocking was once a pure cream colour. Now, it has a long rip along its length where it was torn, catching on the protruding, hard buckle of a stout leather belt. It might still have the thick, oily scent of deerskin, of the harsh bronze that tore it.
Flung across the room lies the garter that had once held up the stocking. In a matching cream, it is like the last tooth left in a gaping, bloodied mouth. He remembers a young woman’s yelp as the fabric tore and the resounding slap of leather on flesh that followed.
As he stares at the white elastic across the room, he loses himself in an ambitious fantasy – he lets himself dream that he might not be bound to the circle, that he might instead be bound to the entire basement. What an absurd luxury it would be to have four whole walls, complete with corners.
What might that be like?
Imagine having walls instead of bars – his domain would be twenty times bigger than the circle. It would include the claw-footed brass chair, its rough surface promising a cornucopia of aromas. All the ways he might perch on it, the days of entertainment contemplating its many curves up close! How many more dents and imperfections might he be able to observe along its surface, if it were not on the other side of this room?
All the new and interesting configurations he could languish in.
His latest favourite languishing position is on his back, hips twisted so that one leg is hitched up against the floor, the other lying straight, his arms stretched up, up, up, pulling his shoulder blades back, pressing against his ears. If he squeezes all his limbs just so, he can cause his vision to black out. Pinpricks of light appear in the gaping darkness where his field of view should be.
For a moment, he can remember what the stars look like.
Stars. He is swimming in them. Galaxies swarm into life beneath his hands with kaleidoscopic force; purple hearts pulse in greeting; each tiny explosion the rattling gasp of a newborn’s cry. Because he wills it, because he dreams it, so it is.
He sits up.
Crowley has rules. It is how he has survived. There are things he is not allowed. He re-focuses his mind on the gummy bears.
The telltale creak of boots on the stairs announces the imminent arrival of company. Another of Crowley’s rules: he will not react. And so, he does not move a single hair, does not even cover his hideous nakedness, does not curl up or shy away as familiar dark brogues enter the room in confident strides.
He does not in any way acknowledge this person’s arrival, which never fails to irritate. Oh, how Crowley knows this man.
The claw-footed chair is dragged closer to his cage. Better viewing distance. Crowley can sense a long talk coming. These are usually irritating. He will while away the time it takes by imagining all the ways he would destroy this man, inside out. It would be so easy.
Throw him into a dream where he is the King of all the World; have women and men in power throw themselves at him; have him enthroned in the grandest of coronations. Let them sing his praises from every shit-stained rooftop, every bunged-up armchair, every soot-soaked alleyway.
And then, when he’s at the highest he has ever been: break him.
It wouldn’t be hard. For the man who wants unlimited power, simply strip it back, bit by bit, piece by piece. Do unto him as he has done unto others. Every ounce of pain, every lash of the whip, every woman forced. Let him experience all of it. Take away all his power until he is nothing. Until all he has is metal bars and a binding circle, not even a scrap of cloth to cover him, not even a voice to speak with. Leave him there.
Oh, how Crowley knows this man.
He sits on the chair, stooping over, knees on his thighs, hands supporting his chin. His mood is dark turquoise; heavy but low in energy. Thankfully, Crowley detects no undercurrent of violence.
“I’ll get it right this time,” says Burgess, “I’ll get it right.”
He runs a hand over his face. His head sags, shoulders forming sharp, twin hills. Whether he is talking to his prisoner or himself is unclear and makes no difference.
“It has to work. It must work. This time will be different.”
He pauses.
“You will help me, whatever the fuck you are. You’ll help me succeed where I failed when I captured you. I know what we did wrong that night…we didn’t go all the way. It wasn’t a big enough sacrifice. Well, I’m not taking any half-measures this time. We’ll get it right, and you’re going to make sure of it.”
Crowley finds the use of the imperative so entertaining. Will. Must. What must he do exactly? A being with no powers; no clothing; no dignity; no voice. He is not even capable of an audible gasp of shock. All he has is his refusal and his shredded pride. So, he does not react.
He continues to gaze with limpid eyes at the gummy bears which are still there, unmoved. Burgess has not noticed them.
The man talks some more, mostly repetitive stuff, easily tuned out. The chair gets pulled back over to its customary corner. Some quiet time.
But then people. A small stream of robed figures clunking down the narrow staircase. The first few bring small tables which they place against the far wall. Not there! Crowley would yell if he could, that’s off-centre! But they are unconcerned. They have no interest in interior design.
They bring candles next. Lots of candles.
What is it with these ritual-obsessed types and their candles? A precarious and flammable habit. Too easily knocked over. An easy source of disruption. Inviting pyromania. If only he could just send out a little nudge… He reaches with his will. But of course, nothing happens. Nothing has happened for a long time. It is lost, along with his voice.
As the décor operation continues, Crowley muses that it must be nearing Burgess’ favourite time. Somewhere, it is night-time, out there in a World he is no longer part of, does not dwell on, will not let himself remember. Knowing Burgess, it will be approaching midnight. Superstitious wanker.
Sandalwood incense is lit. The only smell heady enough to mask the scent of blood and much worse bodily fluids that can’t be scrubbed out of the room. The thin thread of smoke is woody, smoky, and pungent but undercut with anxiety because he knows what accompanies it.
It is only when they attempt magic that the sandalwood comes out.
They draw a circle to mirror Crowley’s in bright chalk and runes he might once have recognised. One of the Believers is clutching at a book. He imagines it is probably 120 Days of Sodom. Naturally, all of them are fans.
Burgess’ deep voice is murmuring upstairs, directly above. Footsteps sound – more than one pair. Someone brought into the study that hides the basement.
A short time later, the man re-emerges, but the person who follows him is distinctly lacking Believer’s robes.
The girl glows. She is a bright sprig of garlic flower petals; her creamy sleeping shift dazzling amongst burlap-sack figures, a fragile light against the indigo of gloomy basement. Her skin is rough, freckles and pimples dust her cheekbones, her hair limp and dull, a lacklustre mousy brown. Yet she radiates with the fragile uncertainty of youth and worse, far, far worse, Crowley knows what she is here for.
This, he cannot ignore.
He sits up. He pushes himself as far against the cage bars as he can, clutching them, knuckles going white.
Does she know? His eyes seek her, reaching for her – trying to express, voiceless, his word of warning. Burgess had said, hadn’t he? It wasn’t a big enough sacrifice… They guide her to the new circle they have drawn. She goes willingly, expression unchanging, peaceful.
Get out! He mouths at her, Get out! Over and over, hoping she will glance his way. His fists rattle against the cage.
“Interesting creature, isn’t it?” says Burgess as he runs a hand through the girl’s hair, “all these years and it just sits there, half asleep. But now - now it responds. It has some kind of heart after all.”
He cradles her face and positions her chin so that she must look directly towards the cage. She is limp, obedient to his will. Why isn’t she fleeing? Her wide, brown eyes finally find Crowley’s yellow ones. He is still mouthing at her over and over, but her eyes are glassy, unfocused, distant. Her gaze looks right through him.
She retreats into herself and avoids Crowley’s urgent gaze as the ceremony begins. Through the chanting, the burning of objects, the spilling of blood, and the making of potions, she does not look at him again.
It is only as Burgess withdraws the dagger, his favourite, the one engraved with his initials, then the girl finally jostles herself and raises a hand.
“Wait,” she says, “Can…can we say a prayer together?”
He pauses. Then, “of course, sweet child.”
The dagger is tucked back into its holder. Around the room, every chin is lowered, every head ducked in prayer. Burgess clasps his hands behind his back and closes his eyes.
But the girl, the girl isn’t praying. That’s not what she’s doing. Her eyes are wide open. She looks at Crowley once, gives him the slightest of nods and leaps to her feet, pulling up her skirt to reveal a blade she has strapped to her thigh.
“IT’S HIM!” she yells, in a voice so loud and confident it immediately rips away the docile, innocent demeanour. Before anyone can react to her call, she thrusts the blade into Burgess’ stomach, her expression transformed into one of hatred.
His mouth falls open as he grasps the wound.
“Fuck! You little shit… don’t let her leave! To think, you should have harboured this malintent all this time…” if her expression is one of hatred, his morphs into something monstrously dark and ugly, “you will not get away with this, girl. You will need to be punished before we sacrifice you. Punished well. Don’t think you will be leaving.”
Two robed figures block the exit. A third retreats up the rickety stairs. The last two grab her shoulders, even as she flails and kicks in their grasp. Her blade is still embedded in Burgess’ side. He paces towards her, one hand on his wound, one hand coming to grasp her throat. Tight.
Crowley looks away. When they do not make him watch the things they do in the basement, he will not make himself.
He can still hear and smell. There is no way to turn those senses off (he has tried).
There is a faint crackle reminiscent of lightning accompanied by the rustle of paper and the musty scent of old books. Several, pronounced, bodily thuds - weights hitting the floor. Heaving intakes of breath, rickety and rasping. The dull clatter of a wooden handle on wooden floorboards.
Footsteps approaching the cage. He is still curled up, turned away from it all.
A rough sob of concern, and then a familiar voice. A voice he has tried so hard to forget. A voice that cannot possibly be real.
“Crowley?”
His angel’s voice. An angel belonging to a world long ago, a different life, a different being than him. He knows better than to believe it. He won’t turn towards it. He has spent too long lost in dreams, in fantasies. In exactly these moments of deepest, most despairing violence, his imagination will conjure up that which he misses the most.
“Crowley, it’s me. It’s Aziraphale. I found you…I finally found you. Oh, my dear…I am so, so, sorry it took me so long. You were hidden from me. What have they done to you…”
Another set of footsteps approaches. It can only be the girl, all in white, who had stabbed Burgess. “Mr Fell,” she says, throat creaking, “it’s him then? The one you’ve been searching for all these years?”
“Yes. It’s him,” voice trembling and soft. So soft. “Thank you – I couldn’t have found him without your assistance.”
“Thank me later. Right now, we need to get out of here, fast. There’ll be more of them.”
“Right. Right, yes, of course.”
The click of fingers.
A great constricting pressure vanishes as if he has surfaced after being trapped underwater at a great depth. Something is different. But still, he does not trust it. He keeps his eyes pressed shut and curls tighter in on himself. This is one of the nicer fantasies.
He cannot help wanting the hand on his shoulder to be real. It feels real. The palm warm, the fingers short and thick. Two arms gather him, the swaddling softness of fresh fabric appearing over his naked figure, fibres delicate, soft as clouds. The arms that cradle him are solid and strong. He is enveloped by the smell of chocolate, old curtains, tea with a dash of lemon.
So overpowering are the sensations that tears spring to his eyes. So focused is he on drinking in that old, familiar scent that he does not notice the motions, the sound of stairs creaking, the shock of an air change, the muffled steps on the carpet beneath them, the chiming of a mahogany grandfather clock, the quickly stifled gasp of a servant followed by a thud, heavy front doors opening on their own.
And then: fresh air.
It is enough to shock him awake. His eyes snap open as he drinks in the flavours.
His view is obscured by a beige overcoat and a shock of white hair, but above that – stars. With hungry eyes, he drinks in the deep, velveteen depths of the night sky. How could he ever have forgotten the magic of that ever-shifting tapestry, crested by a silvery moon?
He is bundled into a horseless carriage, but Aziraphale’s arms never leave him. He is cradled, held firm, limbs sprawled over the back seat, head resting on the angel’s thigh. Thrown backwards against the backrest as the vehicle careens away at speed.
Only then does he believe.
His unpractised fingers clutch at the arm cradling him, watery eyes finding the angel’s blue ones. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a rasp.
“It’s alright,” Aziraphale says, and only then does Crowley realise the angel has been repeating this over and over, “I’ve got you. We found you. You’re free, Crowley, you’re free.”
Drops of water hit his nose. Lines streak the angel’s cheeks.
“Angel.” Crowley finally manages. He can speak again. It has been so, so very long.
He is free.
#crowley#good omens#go#do it with style#reverse bang#event#my fics#mygofic#aziraphale#inspired by the sandman#ineffable husbands#good omens fanart#good omens fanfic#go fanfiction#good omens fanfiction#hurt/comfort#hurt crowley#aziraphale to the rescue
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If you're still doing writer asks, 17 and 25!
17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?
Way too more than I ever needed to know about the french schooling system 😂
LOL but aside from that...I think I either tend to research next to nothing for a fic or fixate on one tiny detail and research it for an absurd amount of time. Like, for This Distance Between Us I spent several hours researching the Ritz London (ie. what it looks like, how the afternoon tea works, the menu, when courses are served, dress code, etc...) because apparently that had to be accurate. And for I Don't Believe In Umbrellas I had the characters taking a Psych course, which I've never taken, so I asked people for old course notes, looked up a syllabus for the actual NYU class, and looked through a few different topics and picked a few to learn a bit more about for some throwaway lines. For that one I went as far as taking attachment style quizes from the POV of the characters--or at least for Kagami, I can't remember if I actually did the ones for Marinette and Adrien.
For a lot of medical things I use Reddit for part of my research--not for the actual medicine, but for the how it feels part. Because you get a lot of first-hand details there that's missing from the more scientific/medical information. And I think that's made me feel a lot more confident writing about those sorts of things, because you start to realize that people will experience/describe having experienced the same thing in different ways. There's not a one-size-fits-all and that means there's lots of room for interpretation! And that's sort of how I've always approached writing things like depression and anxiety because I always knew it's not the same for everyone, but it's cool to see the same thing on the more physical side of health.
Lately I've also been researching PTSD for Marinette in Say Something, and I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've actually pulled up the DSM-5 diagnostic criteria for mental health realted things in my writing. And I hadn't added the tag to the fic until recently--because it wasn't something I was explicitly trying to write in yet, even though it was in the back of my mind, and I hadn't written down a list of symptoms for her yet even though I had looked through the criteria a few times. But then I DID write down a list and I recently added the tag to the fic because I realized in my last couple rereads I realized I've actually touched (at least briefly) on pretty much everything there already--except that the symptoms have to have lasted for a month and the fic's only taken place over the course of like...a week I believe? So...it wassomewhat satisfying to find out I'm on the right track ahaha.
25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?
Yes! Usually after the actual writing part--when I go back to reread something and I've forgotten a specific line that packs a punch and I'm like...ouch? That happened to me like last week when I was rereading the last chapter of Say Something because a lot of that chapter touches on things that are somewhat personal to me--even though Adrien's circumstances are very different. So that resonated ahaha. And then I was upset I didn't have the ending yet to make everything better 😂
I think the only fics I ever had to step away from briefly in the middle of writing them were talk to me through the Christmas Lights and A Drop In the Ocean--the latter because (cw pregnancy loss, and this might be oversharing askjdbfskjfd but) while pregnancy loss is not something I've personally experienced, it did happen to my mom when I was 8 or 9, and that definitely impacted me too in ways I don't think I really ackowledged or realized for a long time. It's weird to be grieving in a place where people aren't giving you space to grieve--because people were telling me in different ways that they weren't my feelings to have. Which is understandable and also...not really true. And I guess I wonder how it impacted my relationship with my mom. We're not really close, but at the time I think she was actually the one person who did try to make space for my feelings. And that wasn't really what the fic was about, but it still brought up all that for me. So idk, that fic was unexpectedly hard for me to delve into. And it's probably the most nervous I've ever been posting something haha.
Thanks for the ask!! 💜
Fic Writer Asks
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Types/uses of humor in fiction which are good and valuable and which also actually enhance drama (incomplete list)
Irrepressible humor. This is what I would call it when characters are consciously being funny for their own and/or their friends' benefit, and it's treated accordingly by the story. Friends making each other crack up. Someone getting distracted from the current plot by an opening for a joke, and distracting other characters in turn. Multiple characters doing a spontaneous bit. Humor that feels like it wasn't written for the audiences' benefit, the characters are just being funny in-universe.
I love this type of humor because it's human. It adds life and depth and realism to the story because humans do have a deeply ingrained instinct for humor! People who get along well are going to make each other laugh! Furthermore, it generally leads to characters saying/doing little things that are entertaining but don't further the plot, which makes their world feel less scripted and more expansive. I think it connects to what Miyazaki said somewhere about the value of empty space in storytelling--it grounds everything and gives it more room to breath.
Examples: The Dick Van Dyke show my beloved (helped by the fact that several characters are played by actors with stage comedy experience--they're used to engaging with live reactions). The Lord of the Rings, which is in fact full of characters being gently, naturally humorous. Also, I suspect this is a big part of why D&D streams and such are popular now--you're watching a group of funny people trying to amuse each other first and foremost, so you're not just laughing but also watching them laugh.
Punching-up humor. The closest to quip-style humor, but with a specific kind of substance--this is weaponized humor. This is characters looking up at something that seems bigger and stronger and scarier than themselves, and making a joke out of it for specific reasons: to remind their enemy it's not actually above them, to remind themselves of that, to rob it of some or all of its power over them. Sometimes it works completely, and the other is revealed to actually have no power over them. Sometimes it works partway. Sometimes it doesn't work at all, and that's terrifying, if done right.
I think failed imitations of this type of humor are where a lot of quip-overload writing comes from, but in itself it's valuable and impactful and, again, human. It's a human trying to hold on to their own identity and dignity in the face of something terrible, refusing to cede any superiority to the enemy they're facing. The key is that whatever they're punching up at has to actually be stronger than them, or at the very least seem so until that verbal attack goes home.
Examples: Buffy (again, the progenitor of a lot of empty quippiness, but in this it was very often a case of beleaguered teenagers trying to stand their ground under the weight of history and myth and overwhelming evil), Stargate SG-1 (also good at the first type, while we're discussing them).
Humor as a ray of light. This differs in the two above in that it often originates from the reality of the narrative instead of the characters. This is for moments when everything seems bleak and grim and serious, maybe even tragic, when you're in the middle of a dark scenario with no way out... and then something just absurd happens. And the revelatory comedy of the moment shatters the darkness and shows the characters and/or audience that no! the world wasn't as dark as it looked just now! This is real, that incredibly silly thing that just happened, and it reminds them of the good underlying the world.
I love this one. It's humor as eucatastrophe. It can be used to break tension, it can be used to end confrontations, it can kill a tragic hero's despair as he suddenly stops taking himself so seriously, it can give the audience a sense of renewed safety and deliverance. Like the first type reminds us that humor is part of being human, this type affirms that humor is part of reality itself. It's affirming joy is a part of reality, in its own way.
Examples: Mob Psycho 100 (ONE's really good at this), Gravity Falls (less in climactic moments, more as a continuing element of light that keeps viewers able to invest themselves in the dark parts).
#writing stuff#thinking about bad humor (excessive quips and mean-spirited humor and stuff that's clearly fitting into scripted beats)#but also thinking about how good humor is! and how important! and how much it does!#and came out with this
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La Curiosité
(Curiosity)
Ft. Klein (MC), Mammon
C/W. Mention of crimes such as gambling, drugs, illegal businesses, etc.
Summary. Mammon is curious of what’s inside Klein’s safe. This fic happened after the Brothers have come to knowledge that Klein is an Evil Overlord.
Since Klein had moved in to live with the Brothers most of the time in the year, it was inconvenient for him to leave his documents and safe at his office in the Invincible Fortress. Sure there was teleportation spell, but it’s greatly discouraged from using too much. So Klein decided to move all his paperwork to his room in the House of Lamentation. Of course, Lucifer and the others welcomed the idea.
The day the cyborg soldiers moved all the documents and safe to Klein’s room. Mammon couldn’t help but gawking at the safe. It was a large black safe which gave mysterious vibe. The thought of the safe containing money and money-related paper kept popping up on his head.
However, to Mammon’s displeasure, at the first family meal after the move, Lucifer explicitly forbade anyone to touch strange things inside Klein’s room, among which the safe was included, without Klein’s explicit permission.
Mammon wanted to ask Klein to let him see what was inside the safe. No, Mammon didn’t want a simple answer, that’s not his style, he wanted to directly see what’s inside. And finding out what was inside only, he wouldn’t steal anything. But the second eldest could never bring himself to ask his treasure such question. So Mammon decided on one day when he would spend the night in Klein’s room, just the two of them, he would unlock the safe and see what was inside. Perfect plan.
Alright, Klein is sleeping. Mammon looks at the Evil Overlord lying next to him. Mammon can’t help but give the young man a kiss. Be right back, Treasure. Mammon tiptoes to the safe, which is placed under Klein’s working/studying table.
“Let’s see what type of lock is this.” Mammon mumbles to himself. Huh, a biometric lock that requires fingerprint. Mammon is quite shock because there are only a limited number of such safes in the world. But, if you think about it, it’s not strange in the slightest. After all, Klein is an Evil Overlord, he is richer than most monarchs in the world.
Biometric lock, as if it can stop the Great Mammon. Mammon sits down and begins to investigate the lock, finding a way to unlock it without alerting Klein. Still, after a while, it becomes clear to the Avatar of Greed that he can’t unlock the safe without the fingerprint, otherwise, some alarm would be triggered. After all, it’s absurd to think that the Evil Overlord made no alteration to the safe after he had purchased it.
Tch…there’s no other way. Mammon moves the safe across the floor to the bed.
Screech…
The safe makes a large sound as it is being pulled on the floor.
Oh shit. Mammon looks at Klein, fearing that the next moment, the Evil Overlord would open his eyes. “What are you doing with my safe?” “N…nothing.” The Evil Overlord would know that he was lying and would show no hesitation to cut his throat.
Stop imagining too wildly, Klein would never do that. Mammon looks at Klein. The young man does make a turn in his sleep, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Mammon sighs in relief.
This time, instead of pulling the safe on ground, Mammon carried it to the bed. Heavy, Mammon complains in his head. Mammon then puts the safe gently on the bed. Next, he grabs Klein’s hand as gently as possible and brings it to the safe.
ACCESS GRANTED
Yes! Mammon immediately opens the safe. He has expected to see the bright light of gold. But sadly, there is nothing, except papers.
They could be checks. Mammon thinks in a positive way. He grabs some of the papers and takes a look.
To Mammon’s disappointment, there is nothing money-related on the papers, except Black Cross Society’s important documents, like documents about the Society’s different HQs around the world, cyborg soldiers, experiment notes on some faeries and…demons. The last of which sends a shiver down Mammon’s spine.
Alright, let’s put them back. Mammon doesn’t want to check the papers anymore. He is not interested, and because he’s scared. But as Mammon is doing just that, his eyes catch the word “investment” on the paper stack in the corner.
Real estate investment, drug trade, endangered animal hunting & trading, weapon trading, illegal casino. Aside from the investment, the only legal business is Akuber in Devildom, the rest are illegal…deadly illegal. The secrets of these papers make even the Avatar of Greed’s face turn blue.
Alright, l…let’s put them back. Mammon prepares to put the papers back, he knows better than to look further. But he does not put the papers back with the order they had been arranged before he took them. Mammon can be kind of messy when it comes to paperwork.
Once again, Mammon’s eyes notices something else. It’s a picture of him playing cards at a casino named La Pierre Verte (The Green Stone), the name implied about Emerald. Looking at the picture’s angle, one could see that it was taken by a CCTV in the casino.
“How did-, Mammon is confused, how could Klein get a picture of him playing at La Pierre Verte. However, the name of the casino soon dawns on Mammon. It was one of the illegal businesses on the papers, which means Klein owns the casino La Pierre Verte, which, in turns, explains why the Overlord has the picture.
As Mammon turns to the back of the photo, he sees a letter attached to it.
“Mammon, this is a proof of this Overlord’s indulgence to your curiosity. See and read anything you want. After you are satisfied, put all the documents back like how they were arranged before. If this Overlord happens to find his documents being disorderly arranged, Lucifer may find a bill recording your 5 millions worth of Grimm loss from La Pierre Verte.
Sincerely,
Your Treasure,
Klein.”
The next morning, Klein wakes up before Mammon, which is quite unusual, given the fact that Mammon usually wakes Klein up. But last night, Mammon really had a hard time sorting all those papers and documents.
“Wake up, my first.” Mammon slowly opens his eyes. “Good mornin’, Treasure.” The second eldest says with a sleepy voice.
“Good morning. How was your adventure last night? Anything caught your eyes?” Mammon jolts awake right away. “You knew?”
“The moment heard the large screech on the floor, I knew what was going on. But I felt back to sleep right after, letting you do anything you want.”
“I…it’s certainly not because I was curious, the Great Mammon just wanted to check the safety of the safe for ya. Be grateful.”
Klein says nothing in reply, but smirks. He knows too well Mammon’s tsun act.
“Alright, I’m not going to point anything out. However, I will let you know a secret.”
“A secret?” Mammon’s ears perk up.
“You’re my first to know about the secrets in the safe.”
“Wait, I thought Lucifer was the first…no that’s not what I meant, why should Lucifer be the first?”
“Well, it’s true that Lucifer, Diavolo and Barbatos knew before you. But it was because they investigated those businesses of mine. So they don’t count. You are the first with whom I share these secrets.”
At the breakfast that morning, Mammon never stops humming to himself “I’m his first, I’m his first.” When Satan and Asmo get curious, the second eldest only replies “It’s a secret.”, much to the displeasure of his brothers. While Klein tries to hide his smug face and pretends to focus on the food on his plate.
Tag - @sparkbeast20
#obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me mammon#obey me mammon x oc#obey me mc: klein#obey me mammon x mc#obey me mammon x klein#om! shall we date#om! mammon#omswd mammon#swd mammon#obey me one master to rule them all
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Update 03/01/2024
So it has been awhile now and the reason for that is, i have been bussy with life and work but i dindn't to forget to still upload some Stalker videos for you all to enjoy.
What did i completed in these 2 months of update.
Completed
My Time At Portia
I had alot of fun with this game also spend allot of hours on it, i think it really surprised me at the end.
Start a new life in the enchanting town of Portia!
Restore your Pa's neglected workshop to its former glory, grow crops, raise animals, befriend the towns quirky inhabitants and uncover the mysteries this charming post-apocalyptic land has forgotten!
So go out and make a name for yourself, date, make friends or even marry.
The Dark Pictures: Little Hope
A game with intrigue where any decision you make is final and depending on what you do how many wil survive at the end.
Abandoned and all alone, 4 college students and their teacher become stranded in an isolated town miles from anywhere after their bus crashes in bad weather.
Trapped by a mysterious fog in the town of Little Hope, they search desperately for a means of escape whilst visions from the past haunt them from the shadows.
Lego Marvel's Avengers
It's lego what more can i say ;)
Anyway the game really captivate the movies and even some of the heroes own movies in a really funny way.
Tales For the Borderlands
Another Telltales game that is enjoyable in the world of the borderlands.
Getting downgraded from hyperion you try one big score and from that moment everything goes wrong but as any telltales game your decisions mather what happens.
Monster's Den: Book Of Dread
Just a short game that i once bought.
You have to make your way trough different stage to get the the last boss, it is enjoyable for getting out of the big games but sometmes still hard.
Tsioque
A dark but playful Point & Click adventure.
You have to escape the clutches of an Evil Wizard and discover the secrets hidden within the spellbound castle of your ancestors.
We take the role of princess Tsioque, imprisoned in a castle overtaken by the Evil Wizard.
Garshasp: The Monster Slayer
A game i had in my backlog it is not actually bad if you get used to the controls, at times it is a hard game.
Years after the confinement of Azhi Dahaka by Fereydun, the evil Deevs (Monsters) who were the commanders in the army of darkness led by Azhi Dahaka rose again in different parts of the ancient lands of Khunirath and rebelled against the humans who were celebrating the victory of the army of light.
This game is based on ancient Persian mythology bringing to life the epic battles of the mythological hero, Garshasp, in the ancient lands against the evil monsters.
You play as Garshasp himself, the strongest man in Persian Mythology, in a journey to revenge and reclaim the legendary mace of his ancestors which is stolen by the Deevs.
A journey which proves to unlock more significant hidden mysteries. The main mechanics of the game revolve around melee combat, platforming and exploration.
Wolfenstein: Old Blood
This game is a prequel to the first game.
You play the same person where you find out what set him on the path to the first game and meet some people that where in teh game itself.
Chicken Police
Also a game i thought i wouldn't like but you do get in the game the moment your playing it.
The game it self is A wild tale of love, death, chickens, and redemption!
Chicken Police is a buddy-cop noir adventure, with a carefully crafted world, a gritty story, and lots of absurd humor.
The game mixes elements of classic adventure games with visual novel-style storytelling.
New:
Planet Explorers
Unpacking
The Legend of Tianding
Souldiers
SCP: Secret Files
Friends Vs Friends
Prodeus
Hardspace: Shipbreaker
King's Bounty II
Iratus: Lord Of The Dead
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm Revolution
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 2
Naruto Shippuden: Ultimate Ninja Storm 3 Full Burst
Sword Art online: Lost Song
The Pale Beyond
The Gunk
Nobody Saves The World
Midnight Fight Express
Last Call BBS
From Space
Expeditions: Rome
Elex II
Doom
Funtasia
Godstrike
Anuchard
Blood And Zombies
Time On Frog Island
Lost In Random
Mortal Shell
Neon Blight
Karma City Police
Ruin Raiders
Wounded - The Beginning
Dark Deity
Monster Harvest
Hunting Simulator 2
Empire Of Ember
To The Rescue
The Sinking City
Code of Princess EX
Werewolf: The Apocalypse - Earthblood
Accel World Vs. Sword Art Online
Out of Reach
Crysis Remastered
Conclusion:
As you noticed i did the 2 months update as i didn't do the one last month.
So in the months i played Wolfenstein is my favorite just because when you play it i didn't feel i want to stop and you just try the slow apraoch and Monster's den my least favorite just wel there was not much to it, it was just a inbetween game.
Also over the 2 months i got offcourse my choice games but there where also some nice bundles for sale.
So i continue the Let's Play of stalker and see you guys on the next update.
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Knight in Dulled Armor Ch. 6
Chapter 6: Acrobatic Academic
My eyes drift upwards, taking in the view of the city still. Not all of Braiewood was in disarray, many of the buildings and streets were cleaner as I explored more open areas. The architecture wasn’t exactly typical of what I was familiar with. Brick and wood serve as most of the building materials here, unlike much of the metal and raw stone used in Asteria. The most prevalent difference was the sheer height of the buildings here. Many aspects played with the height of the buildings, like lofts, patios, and raised foundations.
I decide to head back into the aerial arts center, following back down the road I came from. This time I enter through the large double doors, and take a seat near the front of the crowd. People seemed to be biding time at the moment with no one on any stages, several seats now vacant, and those still sitting were chatting or immersed in other activities. While seated I catch a whiff of food cooking somewhere. I scan the area, a peck of hunger setting in. I notice a small counter and bar area with a man cooking behind it in the far corner of the room.
The aerial performance seemed to be at an intermission for the time being, so I make my way to a stool at the counter. Only one other sat spaced between stools with me. I try to get the man cooking's attention, sticking my hand up and slightly forward. We make eye contact, but he doesn't bother to speak to me. I wait a few moments for him to finish what is cooking on the grill on the other side of the countertop. When he serves a plate to a man waiting and still doesn't bother to take my order I open my mouth to ask him when he is available to do so.
My mouth is filled with something, my hand jumps up to cover my mouth. Juicy, soft, and savory my stomach churns upon the realization that it was meat. "Excuse me, I don't really eat meat." he glances up from his work for a moment, a brow raised. "Not many do, that is a mushroom and vegetable blend, it only resembles meat. We're not orcs, don't be absurd." I push aside the seemingly heated comment, "Sorry, I wasn't aware. Can I get a men-" I am once again cut off by him flinging a bit of the warm mushroom meat into my mouth via spatula.
I chew and swallow, growing impatient with his unprofessional attitude despite the great quality of the food. He sees my mouth descend into a scowl, "You're hungry, right? What's wrong?" he says through a smirk. "I'm joking of course, the menu is behind me," he says, moving over to reveal a large menu board. Upon inspection, I decide on fried rice with local veggies. He quickly prepares it, asking if I wanted it in a box rather than a plate. I panic and say nod without absorbing the information at first. He preps it into a small box with a wooden utensil, then passes it to me by a handle on its folded top.
Light in the room shifted, blobs of color now dragging their way across the walls. My mind is brought back to wondering how the light morphs color and moves in such a way. The only possibility that remains after my eyes follow along the walls and floor extensively is that it was some kind of magic. Slow music kicks up, indicating the show may start soon.
I make my way back to my seat in the crowd. A woman walks out onto the stage from a set of curtains behind her. A short airy skirt made from a vibrant lace hangs just above her mid-thigh. Peaking through this translucent skirt I was a glimpse of white lacy undergarments. A small sleeveless top of a similar style clung to her chest. The largest piece of fabric on her was a long scarf draped over her shoulders.
She settled herself on stage, gripping one of the bars and gracefully pulling herself up onto it. She then hooks one leg onto a curved section of a bar, bending her body and allowing herself to hang from it. She morphs her body into different shapes with a series of twists and movements, creating a graceful and even sensual environment. She continues the aerial sport reminiscent of refined dance, using her scarf as a prop to hold herself in a brilliant display of strength.
The music fades out for a moment, a silence nestles its way deep into the room. I look around the room, trying to gauge if the performance was over. My eyes snap back to the stage as the performer, now sitting on a high horizontal section of a bar, juts her hands out, falling back only catching herself with her fastened scarf at the last moment. The music now swells at a faster pace to match their routine. I notice a set of clicks and clanking above me in the pause, noticing a tall tile ceiling.
Drawing my attention back, the woman covers her chest for a moment. She flings her hands back, revealing a new color of fabric on her top. She makes the same motion over her hips, changing the color of her skirt. She makes a quick jump onto a curved section of a bar rather than the previous slow precise movement. The bar begins to turn, and she begins a set of more exciting hangs and twirls.
Before I know it the show is done, the woman drops to her knees at the end of the stage, blowing a kiss to the crowd before disappearing back behind the curtain. A series of applause erupts from the crowd and a few disperse. My finds find each other through the burst of sound, adding another set of claps to the applause. I should leave too, maybe find a less crowded place to eat my meal.
I wait until all that choose to leave are gone so that I won't have to press through cramped doors and crowded streets outside. I step toward the door, feeling a tug against my shoulder.
"You aren't going out that way, are you?" A smooth feminine voice uttered. I turn to see a woman only a bit taller than myself at the bar counter where I'd gotten my food. "Oh, my bad, sweetie. I thought you were a performer." She says.
She was of a darker tone than I was, her complexion resembled Hidorah's but I'd say held more of a reddish tint to it. I recognized her as the dancer on stage from earlier when I'd been chasing him. She no longer wore her sheer lace set but now a cropped shirt with a square neckline and a section of straight lace beneath it. Her long sleeves were the same sheer lace. She also wore a short white skirt sitting above the knee hanging loose on her hips. A set of colorful densely beaded cords clung to her waist above her naval.
She must have noticed my staring, as she jutted a hip out and placed a hand upon it. She cocked her head, her dark frizzy hair bouncing up against her shoulder instead of scrunching against it as mine would. I shake my head finally, entirely too late for normal interaction.
"Oh, I caught a bit of your performance earlier, you're very impressive!" I blab with a nervous smile. She smiles back, arguably much brighter than my own. The man running the counter slides her a drink, and she glances at me. "Wanna buy me a drink?" She says this while going for a pouch hanging at her side onto the beaded bands on her waist. Before she can fish out anything, I've already gotten my coin ready. I slide it to the man and nod. With a chuckle, she signals me to follow her with a free hand and a drink in the other. I am led into a different room behind the curtains and led out to a different side of the building.
She walks down an unfamiliar part of town and I have little choice but to follow. There weren't as many people to push through, in fact, there were hardly any people at all. She finally looks back at me, "You know, you didn't have to do that."
"It isn't an inconvenience by any means, I enjoyed what I saw of your performance. I figured I should let you know." I say to her. We eventually stop at the end of a wide alley and sit on an old bench. Her skirt rides up her round thighs as she crosses her legs when we sat down. Without any tarps over the alley, it was just as bright out as the main street. The sun provided a great contrast on her skin, adding a shine to her skin in the light. I now envied her bare legs as I wore my continuously heating full-length pants. I wipe the sweat from my brow as subtly as possible. She must have noticed this and offered me a drink. I take the bottle, cool condensation wetting my hand.
It was an underlining sour fruit flavor that had been neutralized with a sweetener of some kind. It was overall refreshing and enough to put me in a better mood and ease my nerves. "Come on," she says, gesturing me up as she stands.
The end of the alley holds a short set of stairs leading to a large door. I reluctantly follow her, unsure of where exactly we were heading. She pushes open the door, leading us inside.
I immediately recognize the space as a library. Though this area was more space efficient and guest friendly with lofts to access higher literature on walls, there were still books lined edge to edge of the vast room. "A library?" I ask, obviously hoping for more reasoning than confirmation.
"Yeah, I work here. I figured you could at least walk me here, safer that way." She lets out. We continue inside, taking a few steps into a conversation pit embedded into the sandstone floor.
A lump forms in my throat, "Why is there such a heavy need for safety?" I pry, bracing a hand on the counter now between us. I watched her fetching a stack of folded clothes from beneath the counter. A fitting dark vest, including a silver pin on one side of her chest as well as a dark, fairly sheer knee-length skirt.
Such a climate seemed to allow for much less formal dress, I concluded. I didn’t mind, and people didn’t acknowledge it as much as I thought they would. For a moment I had to be reminded of the heat, a rare occurrence so far. The library was fairly cool inside, strangely enough.
"I couldn't tell you're new here at first, for the record. Your clothes seem normal, so I'll give you points for your adaptation skills, but I was suspicious when you thanked me for my performance. Then my hunch was solidified as soon as you paid for my drink. You're very formal." She tells me.
"That doesn't answer my question," I let out.
"Well, I get why you wouldn't know, is what I'm saying. Braiewood isn't the same as it was years ago. We've had a bit of an economic crumble for a collection of reasons. With that being said, it didn't exactly help the city's crime rates"
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware."
"It's alright, you got lucky, I'm one of the few people who won't look at you like you're a barbarian for not knowing. Can't expect tourists to know when tourists haven't been around since all the changes." she shrugs.
I wait for her to continue, but she shakes her head as she steps behind a rounded counter. "We're in a library, you want information look around. I'm not an economist."
"Fair enough, care to point me to an elven history book? Preferably about the apparent deterioration of Braiewood. Shockingly the fluctuation of the elven economy isn't a huge seller in Asterian bookstores." I laugh out to her, putting my elbow on the table and shifting my weight onto it. I am genuinely curious about this, and I wonder if I’ll be able to discuss this issue at home once this all blows over.
In a sad discovery, I was met with a look of confusion over a chuckle. She runs her hand to my cheek, brushing my neck with her soft fingertips. I stare at her face now much closer to mine. I straighten my posture, but this led to her leaning further over the counter. Her mouth was left slightly agape and her full lips pursed into a pout as her brows furrowed. She pushed my hair behind my ears and her jaw dropped. Her eyes widened for a moment, her head seems to shake away a thought.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Um, I'll lead you to the history section. Just a moment." She takes me to a certain shelf and hands me a book with a faded yellow spine. This unexpected tension tightens my demeanor and I do my best to get things back on track.
"Do I need to pay or sign the book out?" I say as we walk back to her counter.
"Well, I'll consider waiving your fee for borrowing a book without having any identification since you bought me a drink. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say you don't have a Braiewood sign of residence?"
"You caught me, alright. I told you I'm not from around here."
"Well, as long as I can get your name in case you want something from here again. You've got a name, right?" She says, hunching over a gridded paper.
"Elaine," I say.
She glances up from her sheet, expecting more.
"Thauma." I continue.
She scoffs, shaking her head as she jots it down. "Are your parents fans of traditional names too? Or just have a really bad alias?"
I shoot her a confused look.
"My name is Arani," she clarifies.
My confusion is momentarily dismissed as I remember that this is in homage to Azulah Arani, one of the more known and respected past Elven representatives. She's clearly under the impression that I am someone named after myself. A name popularized because of its presence in nobility, leaving me with a legacy to live up to before I have the chance to claim my name as my own.
"Nonetheless, Elaine, I'll lend you the book free of charge. Just make sure you set aside some time to return it. Maybe even consider grabbing another book, you'd get into the readers' hall of fame pretty quick." She laughs.
"Not many interested in the cultural classics anymore?" I ask.
"Nah, change in curriculum beats the information into kids without leaving any room for a want to research on their own. That's how my younger sister puts it."
"I see, I guess leadership doubled down on the education to attempt to prevent future mishaps?" I consider.
"You're not too far off, you sure you need that textbook after all?" Arani says.
"You'll have to pry this book from my cold, dead, educated hands." I laugh, packing it into my bag.
I find myself leaning back onto the countertop and chatting with Arani more about education, finding out she just got out of short secondary education. We were around the same age, her being only a little older than myself. She asks me about Asterian schooling and we compare our education systems. "Clearly you were taught well enough you wanted to seek more education," I say, gesturing toward the library shelves behind me.
"Maybe I wasn't taught enough at all and needed to take matters into my own hands," she jokes.
"Seems like you're the only one who feels that way," I tell her, staring at all the empty seats scattered around the room.
"Yeah, but what can you do? It's hard to convince people to learn when they think they know everything. Plus, if people actually wanted books I'd have to work more," Arani says, "I'm pretty content with getting paid to perform and then read books and dust all day."
"Oh yeah, you work two jobs with performing and the library. Is that normal?" I ask.
"Pretty normal yeah, most people don't care as long as they enjoy what they do. That's why you still see a few people selling original works in the market when they're aren't exactly a ton of tourists," she explains.
I nod and would have continued chatting if it weren't for a wave of light entering the room. A creak at the doors reveals the first visitors in the library since I'd entered. This cues my leave, and I attempt to wrap up my and Arani's conversation before they come to the counter.
"This was nice, it's not often that I get to talk to other people my age around here. Not many are as diverse, you could say, in their interests." She smiles.
"Of course, thank you for the information and kind introduction to the library. I'll get back to you once I've finished this."
She waves me goodbye and I head back into the city, now close to nightfall. If I wanted to blend in I'd have to keep my head down. Apparently, I stick out quite a bit when I gawk at everything in town and attempt to make small talk. Now that I thought about it, no one in the crowd even attempted to talk to me, and hardly talked to one another. The public was much more reserved than it was in Asteria.
I trace my path back to the way I'd entered the city. It was nearing time to leave if I wanted to get back to the tavern barely before sunset. I begin to pick at the food that I'd now been saving for a couple of hours through no choice of my own. This makes my walk more entertaining, but most certainly a bit slower. I finish my food and place the now empty box in my bag to throw away once I arrive at the settlement.
Since my walk time estimate was delayed from my meal it grew dark before I arrived in town. I could see the tavern lights in the distance, though admittedly only because of how flat the terrain was. I trekked on, now more so following the lights of the tavern from afar rather than the beaten path in the darkness.
Soon, the darkness swallowed all signs of the ground once beneath my feet, let alone a path to follow, no longer allowing moonlight to penetrate the darkness. I continue using the slowly growing lights as my only guide. The cold set in quickly, shifting from a hot sunny day to a chilly dark night in only minutes.
This wasn't a problem until the all light was eaten away by the night. It wasn't possible that Kenrik snuffed every lamp in the tavern yet tonight, especially in the common room. I stop, taking a few steps back. The lights reemerge.
"What?" I mutter. With this, the silence of the desert breaks. A strange sound reminiscent of wind fills my ears. Maybe I'd blinked without realizing it, causing the only thing in my vision to flicker out of existence.
Then, the air became warm. Within a couple steps the lights cut once more. I take a moment to ensure the influx of heat wasn't imaginary or something simple like my hot breath hitting my cold skin. No. This was heat. This was wind. This was darkness. Such a strange flip from everything just a few steps prior. I take a couple more steps.
Something hits my stretched-out hand. The palm of my hand was greeted with something soft and warm. I shift my fingers, feeling tufts of something between them. I pull lightly. The sound of the wind stops.
Just for a moment, something permeates the darkness beyond me. Two large, round rings of a pale yellow light set into my vision. Just as quickly as they flashed into existence, they disappear once more.
The dry, wispy texture beneath my fingers drags upward, and my hand is met with something now wet and hot. A white glint shows the curved outline of teeth in the night. My heart races as my brain strikes a similar experience. The canine creatures I first met in the desert, faijugh.
I didn't have time to waste, I skidded far over to my left until the lights came back into view. Its large black body was obstructing my view. I run, beginning to feel something sickening bubble up. I swallow what rises in my throat that was attempting to make its way out of my stomach. I put everything into my foot placement. Even a small stone could throw me to the ground and leave me as dog food.
A mix of my heartbeat and panting now drowned out every outside sound, I couldn't even tell if I was actually being chased. The lights in my vision were now huge and I could see the porch of the tavern. The only noise was the difference in sound from the stiff sand-like soil of the desert to the solid thump of my feet on concrete. I shove the doors open and thrust myself into my room. A loud thud shakes the tavern. This is followed by a series of scratches against the wood floor. I take a peak outside my room.
The black canine had attempted to force its body into the doorway, getting stuck in the doorframe and having to scratch its way out. A series of gasps emanates from the main room. One of which I note as Kenriks. He makes his way to the doorway. I couldn't let this elderly man attempt to get this monster out himself. I barge out of my room, "Kenrik! I'm sorry I-"
"Sorry? You're sorry?" He says loudly above the continuing scratches. I attempt to pull him back from the animal. He turns and looks at me with tears in his eyes. My stomach knots. The canine finally molds and compresses its large body and a thick coat of fur through the door. It makes its way toward Kenrik.
I see him tackled to the ground, a large paw pressing into one of Kenrik's shoulders. The Faijugh's face grew closer to his, its nostrils flaring as it sniffed him profusely. I attempt to throw myself at the beast in a final moment of desperation. I wait with my eyes squinted shut. Nothing, not an ounce of pain. I look down, unearthing my face from a mass of fur.
Kenrik was being licked and laughing from such. "Elaine, thank you!" He manages between breaths. I pry myself off the animal and take a step back.
"Elaine, you found Kyzu! How can I ever make it up to you?" he says.
I draw a breath in, "That's Kyzu? That thing is gigantic and monstrous!" the way that Kenrik described Kyzu as a protective and loving dog, yet this was the farthest thing I'd imagine from that. Oversized, provoking, and vicious was the thing in front of me. A sense of dizziness had wriggled its way into me. My vision begins to sway, though I futilely try to steady myself.
My heart rate hadn't acknowledged the lack of danger in the new setting, and my chest felt tight from such intense running so far. My throat felt raw from the cold dry air. I sucked a rickety breath in, it breaks itself up upon exhaling. I take a shaky step forward toward Kyzu, holding a deep sense of uncertainty in my mind. The dog doesn't seem to care about or even notice me anymore. Kyzu adjusts herself to allow Kenrik to get up. The faijugh mix lets out a sigh, pacing around the floor and letting out creaks along the way. She settles down beside Kenrik's chair, laying on the floor with a huff, her large body taking up considerable space in the common area.
Stepping over to her, I stand above this black shiny mass. I kneel down, taking a deep breath before feeling its long, straw-like fur. I swipe my hand up and down, watching the fur sway back and forth, the tufts of hair shining in the bright lantern light. Kyzu's chest rose and fell with every slow breath. I watch as her eyes fight sleep with each jolt awake before finally remaining shut.
It is just a big puppy. She now seemed so helpless, finally being able to rest after reuniting with her owner. It looks like under the voluminous fur there could be a bit of hunger residing, though it was hard to tell if she was truly underweight. Cracked, dry skin peeling on her nose and lips as well as her paw pads being so distressed that they were now jagged and rough to the touch. A seed of pity roots its way into my heart. I will also note the acknowledgment of a tinge of shame for both being afraid of such a seemingly timid creature and being wrong about its violent instincts.
I watch a sort of peace show its place in Kenrik's eyes, a new calmness to them. He sits at his chair under a lantern and pets Kyzu's head as they both rest. Almost all of which that were concerned about Kyzu no longer stared, an almost incredulous amount of trust in a bartender as a guest. I suppose this shows something special about the tavern, at the very least.
I let out a sigh, trying my best to place as much faith in Kenrik as the customers do. The feeling of danger is a hard one to immediately shake, though. Sitting at the counter seems like a good place to be since I wasn't ready to shut myself into my room yet. I take a peak into the kitchen, no staff. Not that it mattered, since I'm sure Kenrik wouldn't mind me pouring my own drink. I fill my glass with a berry mead and ice. Corking the slim bottle, I put it back onto the shelf and sip at my drink for a bit.
My ice now long melted, I slosh the watery remnant of my drink around my glass. The color was less pigmented and now almost transparent. I roll my shoulders, feeling much more relaxed. I get up, taking my glass behind the counter and into the kitchen to wash. I rinse it out and dry it with a new rag, returning behind the bar to set my glass with the others.
From behind the counter, I could see that the tavern was now dimmer, with a few of the lamps throughout the dining hall having gone out at this point. All dining patrons had retired to their rooms, tables cleaned, and the tavern quiet. By this point, even Kenrik had gone down into his room and settled into bed for the night.
As I set my glass on the shelf with the others, the doors open. I stand up from behind the counter after the creak emanates through the room. Val and I make eye contact; well, as much eye contact as you can make through a helm. He settles down on a stool at the bar, just a seat away from where I'd sat before washing my glass. He seemed a bit surprised, straightening his posture upon realizing it was me. "Elaine, are you the bartender for tonight?" he asked.
"I can be if needed, I don't mind too much if you only need a couple drinks. I just don't exactly want to get caught up working," I explain.
He responds with a nod, "Two glasses of whiskey, then," holding up two of his fingers as he speaks.
I pour him his drinks, putting more effort in than I would for my own, even making sure the ice amount was about the same in either glass. After putting away the whiskey bottle I take a seat on a stool just beside me, still sitting across from Val.
I caught myself on numerous occasions trying to sneak glances under his helm when he took a drink. I was already naturally a bit lower than him as we sat, it felt strangely tempting to be sitting right across from him. I would always avert my eyes after, making it all the more obvious when I'd done so.
"It's awfully late, don't have anywhere to be tomorrow I take it?" I ask, trying to make small talk.
"Actually, I'm heading Northeast for business. I've just had a long day," Val sighs out.
"I can't imagine what a long day must look like for you, I feel exhausted just from an excursion to Braiewood today." I chuckle, seeing him soften his tense stature.
"You must have walked there, right? It’s a ways away, I take it you had Hidorah escort you?" Val asks, putting his head down. I see him go for his second drink, and in a moment I make the decision to drop a rag off the counter, giving me the chance to duck down to grab it.
"Oh, no. Hidorah didn't work today either but I left after he did, so I walked alone." I don't break contact while kneeling to pick it up. I could see the underside of his throat; a darker complexion, though I'm unsure whether this was the lighting, with a shininess giving the indication of stubble on a wide, defined jawline leading down to a large Adam's apple. I see his throat force downward with a swallow, I do the same out of instinct.
"Oh, alright then..." He says, waiting a moment to press on, "I hope you didn't run into any trouble. I've heard mixed things about Braiewood."
"You've never been? I figured you would have by now," I say.
"No, just haven't gotten the chance to yet I guess," Val says dryly.
I take a moment before responding. Some people are easier to talk to than others, it is embarrassing finding myself with nothing to say in conversation. "Well, it's late. I think I should head to bed, I work tomorrow after all," I tell him with a smile. I get up to leave, collecting the coin he'd set on the counter at some point and putting it in the drawer.
"Goodnight, Elaine." He says, almost coldly.
I squint my eyes hard, sucking in a breath as he says it. I nod, returning to my room for the night.
#writer#write#read#reader#novel#book#fantasy#fiction#magic#monster#books#oc#original writing#original character#original fiction#tavern#royalty#kingdom#drama#romance#wattpad#ao3#archive of our own#fanfiction#pining#slowburn#protective
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⚽ 2.129
Ed pulled Stede into a nearby supply closet, closing the door behind him. Stede flicked on the light, turning to face the coach. Who was looking at Stede with all amusement in his eyes gone, now replaced with something new. Something angry; tight, flexing arm muscles crossed in front of his chest.
“What is it,” Stede sighed, “are you going to yell at me now?”
“Stede, for fuck’s sake,” Ed throws his hands up in the air, “yes, I am going to yell at you now.”
Oh. Stede wasn’t expecting that.
“And you had to drag me here because…?” Stede found a spare netted bag of jerseys to sit on.
“Because if I do want to yell at you,” Ed stepped closer, “I’m going to do it in private and not in front of all of suburban Southern California. What the fuck is your deal, mate?” Stede realized, unfortunately for him, that there was no getting out of this.
Alma was already so mad at him, Mary already chastised him, and while Ed had a right to be upset, Stede was at his wit’s end of being criticized for things.
He deserved this, at the very least. Blowing up like he did made an ass of him and Ed, and the angry glances Ed kept tossing him during the game definitely hinted at annoyance. Ed had the opportunity to ruminate on this all yesterday and during the game — but at that point, Stede was tired. He was done with the animosity and he thought that they could move on from it.
Stede was wrong. Whatever minor irritants Stede thought he caused Ed, he was deeply, deeply wrong.
Ed looked furious.
Ed looked hot.
“You cannot act that way during games,” Ed scrubbed a hand over his face, “you almost got us carded! I had to talk the ref down from the ledge to keep you from getting ejected. At a kids’ soccer game.”
Is that what the little colored cards were for? No one ever explained it to Stede, he thought they were simply there to add some flare, truth be told.
Ed wasn’t done, “You can be mad at me all you want, but going off on the ref every time someone gets near one of our players is absurd,” he fumed, “and that’s not even to mention the way you blew your fuckin’ lid over the third goal! I can’t believe you know so little about this sport and think you have a right to scream from the sidelines like that.”
“Excuse me?” Stede asked, indignant, “I know how the game works. Besides, you were screaming just as much.”
“That is called coaching.” Ed leaned back against a rack of balls and crossed his arms, “You know so much?” He gestured with an open palm for an answer: “Okay, what’s the difference between a keeper and a goalie?”
Stede scoffed, crossed and uncrossed his legs. He waved a hand, “They’re— they— formations, of course.”
“They’re the same position.” Ed said flatly, “So, maybe you let me do my job, since I know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“You absolutely do not know what you’re doing!” Stede mirrored Ed’s body language; who was Ed to claim that?
“What!?” Ed stepped closer, “The fuck do you expect— the fuck do you want from me!? Do I need to remind you that we fucking won our game today!?”
Stede stood and got closer in Ed’s space, in his face, “I don’t care if you win the league,” he sneered, “as long as you threaten their safety like that—”
“None of the other parents care like you!” Ed argued, “So whats the fucking truth, Stede? What is your fucking problem with me!?”
The proximity was too much for Stede to not do something stupid.
“I think I made myself fairly clear yesterday,” he moved towards the door, “as I am not a fan of how you’re putting their safety in jeopardy with your coaching style. They’re going to get hurt.”
“Well, that’s soccer,” Ed almost pinned Stede to the door with his proximity, and then he dropped his voice low, “don’t know if anyone bothered to tell you this, but that’s how the game works, mate. Get used to it.”
Proximity was Stede’s enemy today, considering how they were even closer than before.
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Ask game: 16, 20 and 22?
Hello :)))))) alright, asking game: round two! I also wrote a ridiculous amount here just for three questions X'D hope you enjoy the ramble. Thanks for asking, friend :D
16: my favourite media to work with when drawing traditionally would have to be biros. Just, scratchy old biros, they're the best. You can shade with them, you can make really nice dark and crisp lines with them. The textured sounds they make on paper oughh. Epic. I prefer them over pencils.
Plus, any mistakes I make with them I learn to live with. It's been good practice. When drawing digitally I'm always so sooo hooked up on every gross and icky detail I notice, and I end up undoing or just deleting a lot of my works (since it's easier to do that than worrying about leaving erase marks on your saturated paper). With biro, nah, you live with it. You work with it. And, it actually may turn out pretty neat :]
20: A piece from this year that I'm really proud of would have to be...this digital painting of the romantic flight scene from HTTYD! I went with realism and tried to get as close to the reference as possible, and I love colour theory so working on the different shades and colours and lighting and everything iconic about the sunset scene was really fun. It also helped me deal with the loss of my dog as I started working on it shortly before he passed away. I'll add a screenshot of the WIP so far at the end!
Last but not least, 22. What inspires me? I'm not really sure! I doubt I have a concrete answer to this. I sure love a bunch of movies and artists that I've taken inspiration from and learnt from... Honestly, and this is going to sound soppy and kind of cliché, but I've taken inspiration from a lot of things throughout my life. Whether they've been from old Pinterest, boards or incredible scenes from my favourite films or series, I've witnessed and enjoyed a lot of amazing beauty from other creators that has helped me create my own style.
Hmm, nature and the abstract and absurd in it is also a bit inspiration to me, but it's hardly reflected in my works. I'll have to learn to unleash a bit more weirdness into my art hehe.
Thanks for reading if you took the time to :D and thanks for participating in the ask game!! These questions are great, they've seriously helped me to reflect on my expression in my art. I should share more here, maybe
Favourite piece I've made this year:
(not sure if this is even the most recent draft of it, but either way I am extremely proud of it. Drawn with trackpad?!?!)
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The Sandman (Netflix) review
I finished The Sandman a few weeks ago and I quite enjoyed it. It's that type of absurd and chaotic shows that have cohesion within themselves and I like them. I'll add before I start, I am not familiar with the original comics and I have never read them. This will be about the tv show only. And now, let's proceed with the review:
Story:
I'd say there's the overall story about Dream that keeps moving alongside some other shorter arcs. It does start with him as the main focus, but soon turns to him dealing with other situations and problems that arise (or have been there for a while). It's all very chaotic in its presentation, but makes sense when you tie it with a story about "dreams" most of the time. I also didn't feel lost at any point. It's more like I was along for the ride, wether I had all the info or not.
About the lore, I think that was the most interesting part for me. Knowing how this world works, the rules it has, all the different dimensions/realms and how they influence the "regular" world. I was always waiting for more info on them and wasn't disappointed by them. Of course, it was never explained directly, it was shown most of the time or told with a brief explanation. But I do prefer them doing it this way, seems more organic and integrated in the story.
Characters:
All the characters were interesting and had so many particularities that made them seem "real" in a way. I did enjoy learning about them all. Definitely the strongest point in this tv show, in my opinion, is the characters. They also each had their motivations and circumstances, leading to them making understandable decisions during the plot. I might've agreed more with some than the others, but still they all made "sense" (as much as they could in a story like this hahaha).
I was particularly interested in the Endless and all the "non human" characters that appeared through the story, although that doesn't mean the humans weren't also good and interesting, because they were too. If I have to say, probably Death was my personal favourite of them all.
Aesthetic:
I think the aesthetic was also solid. All the caracters had really particular and distinctive aesthetics, quirky enough to fit the universe they were in, but also not so much it looked like a "costume" and you couldn't take them seriously.
And as far as backgrounds, lighting and scenes, they were all really pretty and well executed. Some of the still shots were really beautiful, seemed diretly taken from the concept art or some illustration, which made them stand out in a really good way.
Although I will also add that it has the same problem a lot of modern tv shows and movies have: it was too dark at times. So much that you could barely see what was going on. It wasn't too often compared to other ones, but it was still present for sure.
---
Overall, as I said I enjoyed it. Although I do think it might not be for everyone, since it's a really particular style and is dialogue heavy. But I'd recommend giving it a try and watch the first 2-3 episodes to see if you enjoy it~ As an end note, I really liked episode 5. It might be the one most separate from the overall plot, but the way it's shot and told was really interesting and engaging.
That's all~ If they do a season 2 at some point, I'll probably watch it as well and do a review of it as well C:
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Brainstorming- Lighning Dreamer
For this project, we must use a different control scheme to what we are used to, practically excluding the keyboard and mouse and basic controller from possible uses unless I was able to do something unique with them, what I find would be far harder to achieve on a stock controller but much easier on a computer.
Firstly, I would like to find out what my game would potentially be about, as the ideas I could go with could help me asses which alt way to play would be best and fitting.
An idea has been jittering about in my head for 2 years nearly, a piece based on China and its heinous actions to its own and to others, where we follow a recently escaped concentration camp prisoner who has escaped their bindings and is on the run, having to escape the city they find themselves at, the game being called Lightning Dreamer.
The game would be a 2D, 3D hybrid, mostly following our protagonist as they try to escape, playing as a 2D puzzle explorer with areas that change the perspective to 3DF to enhance a feeling, with the camera being dynamic to further this, such as it moving to lower angles to show magnitude and showing hints to further yourself through the story in areas such as chase sequences.
The game would be inspired by Inside by Playdead, which is a 2D game rendered with beautiful 3D models and an eerie style. Another major inspiration would be action movies and thrillers, as the gameplay would be a blend between high octane setpieces where out protagonist is running for their life and sneaking past insurmountable odds, I also want to replicate its exciting nature.
The game would have clashing colours with dark backgrounds that simulate what the characters are in the story, from simple things, like the protagonist being draped in white and the main military force being crimson reds to be blatant on where enemies are and where you are, what could be used to exaggerate scenes, showing how close our character is to be found, with them having the slightest hand as to escape.
It would also be used to hint at reveals and so on, such as finding another white character later on in the story, who like you, was also at a concentration camp, or a character who seemingly is whiet but wears an inconspicuous red tie, revealing that he's an imposter looking for escapees.
It would also drap the city in night, allowing the lights of the street stand out and also allow the player to wear the shadows as a cloak to hide themselves.
It wouldn't be the longest game, as it doesn't need that long to get the point across and if it was to become too elaborate it would start to become pandering and over zealous, the player isn't an idiot, they’ll understand the motive of the story and not want to be coddled as if they are naive.
For the characters, I want to give the sharper and more absurd proportions, giving them a deco esc look what will let them stand out and hopefully will make it easier to do more pieces with them in, as a repetitive theme in my work is that I spend horse apon days doing pieces of a quality Im happy with, but leaves my work stagnated and leaves other important parts behind.
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