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mediocre-daydreams · 2 years

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rip-off

sirius black x slytherin!potter!reader

w/c: 2.9k

summary: sirius is so enamored with you, his best friend's sister, that he's too distracted to play properly. when a poor play by sirius renders you severely injured, he and james must handle the aftermath.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tensions were high between you and James the day of the first Gryffindor-Slytherin match of the year. Walking into the Great Hall together, you jumped up to tousle James’ untamable hair, earning a mocking laugh from him as you came up short, just managing to grasp the tangles at the back of his neck. You groaned.

“This is bullshit! My birth was a rip-off! You got every damn tall gene and I came second and you saved me none, you… you-” You were cut off by a pair of strong arms across your waist, lifting you in the air as you shrieked. Sirius grinned mischievously at you as you realized what he was doing. Practically tackling James, you jumped onto his back and clung your arm around his neck as you were finally able to dig your fist into James’ head as he let out a strangled yelp.

“Get off me, you pest! You should’ve never been born in the first place,” James shook you off as the three of you burst into laughter, Sirius shoving his friend forward as the two approached the Gryffindor table and you departed to the Slytherins.

“Your sister is… really something.” Sirius glanced over his shoulder at you, who was slapping your knee with mirth as you caught your breath at something Regulus had said. His stomach panged with jealousy— no, pre-game nerves—as he watched his younger brother swing an arm around your shoulders.

“She means well. Being friends with Regulus, I mean. I know you guys aren’t on the best terms, but I think they’re good for each other. Keeps the two of ‘em from hanging out with that crowd.” He juts his chin towards Severus, Avery, Bellatrix, and Mulciber.

“You’re right, it’s just… don’t you wish she was a Gryffindor sometimes? She’s fun and nice, and she gets along with the lot of us so well, and…” and pretty too, he thought guiltily.

“Don’t tell me you’re going soft on her, Padfoot. You know her, she’s an absolute menace.” James elbowed his friend good-naturedly. “Now eat. She’s also a mean seeker, and I am not about to get beat by my younger sister in the first quidditch match of the year.”

Remus caught Sirius’ eye, eyebrow raised subtly. Curse Moony and his stupid perception.

Sirius was caught up in his thoughts the rest of the morning, even as he was putting on his quidditch gear. Godric, what is wrong with you? Have you truly gone mental? She’s your best mate’s younger sister. Younger, too! Too young for you, and too good for you, and she’s James’ sister! James Potter, your friend who would kill you if he found out about your feelings. Which don’t exist, of course. No, you don’t have any feelings for her. It’s brotherly affection. It’s-

“PADFOOT!” James’ face was right in front of his. “You’ve been off your game all day, mate. We’re starting in 5, you gotta get your shit together. And I know you have a tendency to go easy on my sister—which I normally would appreciate, by the way—but this is war! On the pitch, she’s not my baby sister, she’s the enemy. Act like it!” James clapped as he led the team into the stadium, cheers exploding from each of the houses, minus Slytherin. Opposite the Gryffindors approached the Slytherins, led by their keeper and Captain, Emma Vanity, whom you had gushed about on multiple occasions. You wiggled your eyebrows at your brother, meeting Sirus’ eye with a poorly suppressed smile. Sirius pursed his lips to hide his own.

The older Potter and Vanity shook hands, his face immediately hardening as the young Madame Hooch called, “mount your brooms, please. Now, on your marks…” Hooch’s silver whistle cut through the stadium as the teams shot upwards. Davey Gudgeon’s dramatic throat-clearing as he amplified his voice filled the air.

“AND THEY’RE OFF! LOOKS LIKE MALFOY IS QUICK TO GRAB THE QUAFFLE WITH POTTER ON HIS TAIL; OHH, BLACK IS QUICK WITH THE BLUDGER AND POTTER HAS POSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE!” From your peripheral, you saw Mulciber lean forward on his broom to catch up to your brother, with Malfoy closing in on the other side.

“AND POTTER DODGES A BODY BLOW WITH A SLICK DIVE, LIVING UP TO HIS REPUTATION AND THAT BLOODY PRIZE I HAVE TO SCRUB DURING DETEN-”

“STAY FOCUSED, DUGEON.”

“Right, my bad Professor… THERE GOES THE LITTLE POTTER AFTER HER BROTHER, YOU KNOW THE TWO OF THEM ARE QUITE ATTRACTIVE, I’VE ALWAYS WONDERED IF THEY HAVE VEELA BLOOD-” With a huff, Gudgeon’s commentary was cut short with an impatient elbow from McGongall.

Your smile only grew at the Slytherins cheered your name; you relished the stinging wind against your cheeks. You swore you caught a glimmer of gold underneath James as he escaped Mulciber and Malfoy, but it was nowhere to be seen now. Returning to a circling position above the rest of the players, you made eye contact with the Gryffindor seeker, Patricia Rakepick, a seventh year who couldn’t help her soft spot towards you, despite the complaints of the older Potter. You grinned at each other, until Rakepick broke eye contact and whizzed right past you.

“RAKEPICK, LOOKING LOVELY AS EVER, HAS SPOTTED SOMETHING! POTTER IS JUST BEHIND- OW, LOOKS LIKE A NASTY HIT FROM MR. SIRIUS BLACK HAS INCAPACITATED WILKES. NEVER FEAR, ROSIER IN POSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE… MACDONALD’S BLUDGER MISSES… AND HE SCORES! 10-0!” The Slytherin stand roared, a sea of green and silver erupting from their seats.

While Wilkes pumped his fist and blew exaggerated kisses to the Slytherins, you took an opportunity to find Rakepick. There she was, with the snitch just a few meters away!

“IMPRESSIVE SLOTH GRIP ROLL FROM RAKEPICK TO DODGE MEADOWES’ BLUDGER… LOOKS LIKE THE SNITCH HAS GOTTEN AWAY.” Sirius took a second to glance up at you, as if to assure you hadn’t been caught up in the bludgeoning. Of course, you were fine. You were a perfectly capable quidditch player; why wouldn’t you be fine?

“POTTER STEALS THE QUAFFLE FROM WILKES, WHO’S BACK IN THE GAME… NICE TWIRL FROM POTTER AS HE MISSES LESTRANGE’S BLUDGER… MALFOY COMES IN AND SLYTHERIN IS IN POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE AGAIN!”

“Sirius Black, what in Godric’s fucking hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be bludgening Malfoy and his lot! Get your head in the game!” Sirius woke from his trance as fuming James flies past him, chasing after Lucius.

“MCKINNON INCOMING… SHE’S GOT THE QUAFFLE AND SHOOTS… AW, A GOOD SAVE FROM VANITY AND MALFOY’S GOT THE QUAFFLE AGAIN!”

The glint appeared right in front of your eyes. As Malfoy sped towards the Gryffindor goalposts, the snitch followed. Your blood raced with adrenaline as you wove between your older brother and the other chasers, hot on Lucius’ tail. Lucius was fast, but the snitch was faster.

“LOOKS LIKE THE YOUNGER POTTER HAS SPOTTED SOMETHING; COULD IT BE THE SNITCH? LOOK AT THAT- GOING HANDS FREE AS SHE FLIES OVER MALFOY’S HEAD… RAKEPICK COMING IN FROM THE LEFT…”

Amidst the chaos, the snitch had begun a rapid descent. You and Patricia Rakepick dove after it, but your smaller frame pushed completely against the handle of your broomstick gave you just that extra push of speed. Your fingers were mere centimeters from the snitch as Sirius raised his bat, knowing James would murder him if he let Gryffindor lose with 0 points just because of his reluctance to attack James’ little sister—perhaps even worse than what he’d do if he found out Sirius liked… no, Sirius didn’t… he was just…

In his internal fight, he hit the bludger with a resounding crack as it began spinning and gaining momentum as it whizzed towards you. It was too late for you to react before you were violently knocked off your broomstick, one arm reaching desperately for the handle. There was screaming from the stands as you fell through the air clutching your hands to your chest, but you couldn’t hear anything with your heart thundering in your ears. The players froze as James let go of the quaffle to race after his sister, your eyes closed as you cursed Hogwarts for not letting students apparate and cursed yourself for not being able to apparate anyways. Sirius, momentarily frozen, heard Remus and Peter’s voices shouting for him to do something, anything. His stomach twisted as he followed James down, hoping that at least one of them would be able to reach you in time.

He was wrong. You hit the ground with a dull thud and a whimper, followed by a crunch that made both James and Sirius wince. How many meters was that? Sirius didn’t want to know. Madame Pomfrey was quick to rush to your side while Madame Hooch motioned the players to come down for a time out.

“Give me space! Out of the way, boys, I need to see her.” Pomfrey fought her way past the panicking Sirius and James, who turned as they heard Remus and Peter’s footsteps approaching with Lily in tow; Regulus coming from the Slytherin stands. Sirius glanced at his younger brother, who pressed his lips together in a forced smile. Sirius was about to open his mouth and say something when Vanity stormed over, face flushed, Marlene and Dorcas following behind.

“Sirius. Fucking. Black.” She emphasized each word with a shove to his chest, standing a couple of inches above Sirius. “What was that? What were you thinking? You nearly killed her! Wait, did you kill her? Is she dead? Holy shit, you’re fucked up, you know that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” She was crouched next to you only moments later, gently brushing your hair out of your face with calloused fingers. Pomfrey swore under her breath, tapping her wand against your chest rhythmically, her fingers pressed against your neck checking for a pulse.

“Good news everyone! She’s not dead.” Pomfrey announced to the small group which had gathered around. “But the bad news is she’s severely fractured multiple ribs, appears to have major head trauma, which would make sense because she fell off her broom for the sake of this stupid, dangerous, purposeless game,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “a broken arm, and a bruised tailbone.” Pomfrey stood up and gestured to allow the students to check in on you as she and McGonagall spoke in harsh whispers.

“Shit. Shit, shit shit. Fuck.” James was the first to jostle through, collapsing to his knees in front of you. McGonagall didn’t even look his way as he spewed profanities. Sirius couldn’t move. It was his fault. He got distracted. James told him to get his shit together, not kill his little sister! And, like the screw-up he was, he did exactly the latter.

Your eyelids fluttered as you saw James’ terrified face above yours. With a weak groan, you opened your hand, the snitch in your scraped palm. “We win,” you chuckled hoarsely, wincing as pain tore through your chest.

“You’re such an idiot. You’re incorrigible, you know that? Can’t ever stay out of trouble,” tears slipped down James’ face, leaving tear marks as they washed away the grime on his cheeks.

“Is she okay?” Lily whispered in James’ ear, who was too caught up in his worries to even think about how close the love of his life was to his face. James could only sniffle. Dorcas rubbed Marlene’s arm while Peter patted Sirius on the back and Remus rubbed his shoulder, sensing his distress. Sirius could only watch as Regulus took your hand, fingers passing over the small scuff next to your eye with Sirius’ eyes fixed on his brother’s movements with a clenched jaw.

“Listen, you’re gonna be okay. I’ll take you up to the infirmary and stay with you until you feel better,” Regulus smiles reassuringly. “C’mon, up you go.” Pomfrey levitated you onto a stretcher and headed for the castle, Regulus by your side. McGonagall shooed Remus and Peter away, insisting they weren’t needed here and instructed the two captains to deal with their respective teams. But Sirius couldn’t move; it was as if he was tethered to the ground in chains of guilt and jealousy watching your figure disappear.

“You good, mate?” James threw his arm around Sirius’ shoulders as Peter and Remus walked away with concerned glances thrown over their shoulders.

“Prongs, I nearly killed your sister! Why the fuck are you asking me if I’m okay?” Sirius hissed as he pushed James away, storming towards the locker rooms.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Sirius ignored him. “I said, don’t ignore me!” James slammed his hand against a locker as he blocked Sirius’ path, hoping to force a word out of his friend, but Sirius only looked at the ground.

“It’s not your fault, Pads. She’s the toughest quidditch player I know. More so than you and I, even,” he forced out a laugh. When Sirius continued to refuse to make eye contact, James grabbed him the shoulders and shook him roughly.

“Hey, I hate to resort to this, but this isn’t bloody about you and your guilt. First of all, it’s not your fault. You did exactly what you were supposed to, and an accident happened, and she’s gonna get Pomfrey treatment, which means she’ll be on bed rest until she’s completely good. That woman’s ego could not handle having a patient leave without full recovery, you know that. She’s in good hands.” Sirius’ red-rimmed eyes flickered between James, looking for any trace of blame. There was none.

“Second, moping around and drowning in your emo feelings will do nobody any good, except maybe Slughorn, who’ll get a real kick out of your silence in Potions. Go shower or something, you smell like Snivellus; meet me in the infirmary when you’re done, okay?”

Sirius watched James disappear into the distance, just as he watched the water disappear into the drain, and just as he felt any chance of being your friend disappear into thin air. All he ever wanted to do was keep you safe, and make you smile that radiant smile of yours, and if he was lucky, bring out that infectious laugh that turned him stupid every time he heard it. Now, he was lugging equipment up to the infirmary with damp hair and puffy eyes, not ready whatsoever to face you.

“Padfoot, you’re here! She’s still asleep.” James motioned for the sullen boy to join him and Regulus at your bed. Regulus was once again, by your face, threading his fingers through a strand of your windblown hair. There it was, that feeling in his gut. It was probably hunger; he hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast and then he’d played quidditch.

Sirius sat across from Regulus, who looked up from beneath hooded eyes with a silent glare which Sirius read to mean, “don’t you dare come near her. You don’t deserve her. She’s mine.”

“Alright Mr. Potter, you smell awful, and Mr. Black, you’ve been here for too long. The both of you—out!” Pomfrey ushered the two boys out, much to their protests, and turned to Sirius with something that looked like pity in her eyes. “As for you… you get eight minutes.”

Sirius watched as you slept, brows furrowed. He reached to brush away the dirt on your forehead, but his hand froze just as his fingers came close enough to feel the warmth of your skin. He stiffened, wondering if he even had the right to be sitting next to you when he was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Please… please, you have to be okay. You have to. I don’t know what I’d do…” Sirius murmured, finally finding the courage to swipe his fingers across your skin. “You know, James says he doesn’t blame me for this. Is it selfish to wish I wasn’t here right now? You- even when you sleep, you’re so-” he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud; it felt dirty, like a betrayal to his brother. You’re so beautiful. You’re so reassuring. You’re so strong.

“I haven’t even gotten the chance to tell you how I feel. I don’t know how I feel, actually.” Sirius laughed mirthlessly. “But I feel like I should. I should know how I feel, I mean. I should know how I feel about you because you- you’re always so confident and I can’t be that for you; I can’t even get my shit together.” He sighed, pulling his hand away from where he had been rubbing gentle circles against your temple, wondering if you’d hate him. The worst part was, that he knew you wouldn’t.

Sirius sat by your bed for a while, head between his hands as he replayed the fall— the way your eyes closed as if you had resigned yourself to the inevitable impact, the way he foolishly thought he could save you, and the way he didn’t. He jumped at Madame Pomfrey’s chill hand, freshly sanitized. You don’t belong here, all sterile and bland. You’re nothing like that. You’re the light. You’re my brilliant, Gryffindor red and I’m not even brave enough to tell you how I feel. Or to fucking admit how I feel to myself.

Sirius could hear Pomfrey’s foot tapping in concern as he left the infirmary, picking up his quidditch equipment from the floor and wishing he had never stepped foot in the stadium at all.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

#sirius black imagine #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader angst #sirius black angst #sirius black x potter!reader #best friend's sister #maurauders era #maurauders angst

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megoomy · 7 months

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judith, a witch(?!) in a pact with a malak named ba’ul

more info and reference sheet under the cut!

here she is!! i'm happy with her look, less so with the rendered image of her, but we can't win them all.

like it says on the sheet, i was taking a lot of cues from her in game Draconic Lancer title costume. I wanted to lean into the white more than her default outfit, calling back more to the helmeted look she has before joining the party. but obviously, i didnt want to do anything that looked too much like that, or that had gold accents like her in game jacket and...skirt cape(??), because then she'd come off as kind of abbey coded. so i settled on pink accents, pulling from the colors on the Draconic Lancer look. i think it's fun. it gives her a girlish touch, which is a part of judy's character that i like! she's badass and secretive and mysterious, but she likes cute things too. well. her idea of cute, anyways...i think it suits her persona of being a "witch" in this setting. judy understands how to create an image.

speaking of that. unlike rita, who has a lot of magical knowledge, judy is basically a witch in name only. she understands how to form a pact, and not a lot past that! i think we landed on this for a few reasons:

Judy's father, Hermes, was a blastia expert, and naturally good at the magic of vesperia's universe. but judy was just the opposite, and in the novels she initially couldn't even grasp the talents natural to most krityans. being a witch who doesn't actually do much magic seems apt.

speaking of her dad, this also provides her connection to rita. they're both...witches. rita WILL NOT call judy a witch though, as you might imagine LOL (on that note, maybe hermes takes on the role of grim as the witch teacher?? again, we havent really decided on this LOL)

ba'ul obviously makes most sense as a malak, since the malaks and the entelechaia are both spirit equivalents for these tales entries. (well, entelechaia become spirits--listen, you get what i mean if you've played enough tales games) and judy MUST be with ba'ul! much like she only learns how to use her nageeg after interacting with ba'ul in the novel, i think she has just enough resonance to meet ba'ul, and their connection increases it, and she refines that ability as a "witch" enough to solidify their bond through a pact. they're family!

But yeah she uses a spear to fight. Ba'ul helps her imbue it with seraphic artes to a degree, but mostly its just the spear. I went with a design similar to the Brionac, since that's her Lore Important Weapon, but uh, i haven't designated this lance with lore importance itself. maybe we'll come up with something. looking at it right now i really think i should've colored it differently but IM NOT CHANGING IT, I ALREADY POSTED TO TWITTER!!! (it may change, hell, i decided to make it kind of glow pink in the image, im not fit for weapon designs)

Ba'ul always comes first to Judy, but neither of them is particularly biased against daemons or humans, despite knowing the truth about malevolence. she's quick to befriend yuri and loves repede (who is also a daemon, i gotta put him down on paper soon) and seems understanding of people's different circumstances. but she prioritizes her own goals first, so she'll disappear at the drop of a hat if it suits her, and yuri knows better than to count on her too much...

oh yeah. ba'ul is considered a "dragon" in vesperia, but that comes with a lot of BAGGAGE in this universe, so he's not a dragon here. he, um....he just looks like that. it's fine.

#tovb au #judith vesperia #tales of vesperia

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spotaus · 2 months

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A few references! (A wip because I got distracted lmao--)

I snatched a few of these from a magma with @oodlesndoodles (I took out Kale if only because I *was* planning on rendering before my distraction) but this doodle features Pretender!Sans, Paps, Gaster, Alphys, and Grillby in their monster forms!

(More rambles under the cut)

Design Choices!:

Sans: He's been underground for a long time but used to live on the surface. I imagine he *does* have the iconic Sans outfit somewhere, but right now he wears robes like the King and Queen used to. (He recieved them when he was appointed Judge by Asgore, but no one really knows their significance because only the Guard and Asgore know of his work.)

Paps: Chose his outfit mostly to match Pretender amd the Guard. His shoulder-pads are like old crystal ball props, and his cape had the same sparke affect as Pretender's hood/robes. Around his waist he wears one of the old lab coats Sans leaves around the house. (<- It belonged to one of Sans' favorite people, the one Paps tries to mimic, so he wears it now instead.) Paps has the markings on his face same as Gaster because Sans has a lot of photos from over the years hung on the walls in his room, and Paps used to see them a lot.

Gaster: He's deceased, so the current plot doesn't see him (he can't interact with K, unfortunately. I think they would've been friends if they'd met in Gaster's prime) but I still wanted to doodle him. This was how he looked towards the end of his life, when most of the lab team had passed and he was starting to fall down. He wore cardigans and sweaters, focusing mostly on comfort rather than safety (he was always cold, but especially so towards the end).

Alphys: Went a bit crazy after Gaster passed. She hadn't been eating for a long time, and she couldn't bring herself to leave the lab, even after Sans retired his studies and moved to Snowdin. She still wears her old lab coat, stained and ripped, and she's worse-off for it. Most who see her think she's a rabid animal that has taken a spot in the labs, cameras abandoned and traps scattered in the lab waiting for prey to fall into them. It's an unsafe zone. Any humans who manage to pass Undyne *always* fall to Alphys.

Grillby: Back to fun times!!! He's a short king (at least coming in at around 5'6" which is small compared to other boss monsters, but big compared to merchants) and still runs his restaurant in Snowdin. Though, it's usually empty these days since he doesn't exactly have much food to serve. And water? He doesn't touch the stuff. Sans goes there often just to keep Grillby company. Most monsters, even if they do see a human enter, won't bother attacking because they know Grillby gets first dibs. Grillby would rather not get blood on his nice counters, though. He wears a vest and button-up with symbols like Pretender's, but otherwise is fairly unchanged from canon.

Extra Notes:

-Alphys and Sans aren't on speaking terms any longer. After Sans gave up the project, Alphys became manic and fell into despair, deciding that she'd do everything herself. Sans tried to see her a few times after that before be realized she'd gone off the deep-end and he only dared to be nearby when Asgore needed him.

-I now believe that MTT would be a positive force for humans. A ghost-monster who wanted to look human, to see if they could pass the barrier. Alphys was in charge of the project before Gaster passed, and constructed a surprisingly sturdy human-like body. It was never tested against the barrier. Now MTT tries to stay by Alphys, even in her madness. He tries to help people by reminding them how humans look, act, and talk, with his show. He helps people who get caught by Alphys' traps. (Gotta talk to Ood, but I'm thinking that Pretender wasn't fast enough to help K on her first time through the lab. It was actually MTT who moved her out of immediate danger before stalling Alphys? Unsure.)

-Grillby likes the taste of human, but there are certain unspoken rules he works by, like other shopkeeps. For him, as long as you pay your bill and follow his one rule (no water (tears do not count as water)) then you're free from his harvest. If a human came in looking for shelter, he'd leave them be.

-Gaster was a brilliant mind, and Pretender took a lot of influences from him over the years. Despite his death, his image and memory lives on in the mannerisms and knowledge of those who knew him. In the grief left in his shadow. In the young skeleton who imitates him partially every day because he made his brother happy a long time ago.

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tpher · 5 months

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how do you make your oc screencap edits?? i also have a td oc and i dont really know where to start 😭

ok so!!! i use firealpaca which is just my usual drawing program. so i'll keep using it as a reference for my steps but of course im sure whatever similar program u use should have similar features

i'll be long winded for funsies as usual 💕

FINDING YOUR SCREENSHOTS

the key to decent td edits is to flat out trace screenshots whenever possible. stock pics will do, but of course itll be a lot more fun and less obvious if u use a screenshot from the show and put it into your new context

in terms of making your ocs, you will likely have to do what someone once called "frankensteining" your pics. this is where you use pics of other characters for their specific features and put them together since your oc doesnt have official screenshots to trace. this also absolutely comes in handy w canon characters! maybe you have a pose but u need them to be sitting. so try to stitch together two different pics to get what u need

it will look very scary but just trust the process. here is a random example i made using a dawn screenshot (where i removed the background), gwens eyes and eyebrows, and kittys hair

the sketching part is semi-optional. if you think you can freehand the lineart then go ahead but i assume your oc wont be a complete copy of something found in canon and therefore you will have to draw the newer/different features (such as the hair or the outfit) at least a little bit. and sometimes when i frankenstein the pics, my brain gets all overwhelmed so sketching makes me feel better jfbdjdnd

(in terms of my own oc, i screwed myself over bc his body type is so unique i gotta freehand it like all the time 😭

you can see i traced his head from his render (ALWAYS DO THIS BTW!!! TRACE CONSTANTLY), but then the body was freehanded using a canon pic as reference because tracing the pic wouldve been inaccurate)

THE LINEART

yes the iconic td thick, sharp, flat lineart. i achieve this by using a normal pen tool, turning off the pen pressure, and then turning up my pen stability to 40-60 (very high). you could use a curve tool if that works for you! but i would suggest against that for ALL of it bc the tool just wont respond well to rly drastic curves and such

the pen size varies on the pic. if the characters are close-up, itll likely be a bigger one. and then the characters' little details and facial features are usually a slightly but definitely noticeable smaller size. for the most part, ive had the bigger pen size at 13 while the details are around 9. or big size 10 and smaller size 7.

heres my technique:

as u can see, all of my lines go a bit too far. this is so that when im done drawing them, i can go back in and slowly erase where they meet and get them all sharp and pointy. this is just how i personally do it lmao. when it comes to facial features and other stuff that doesnt connect to anything, just get a close look at your reference to see how thick or how thin the edges get and do ur best to erase the edges to the point where they should be

THE COLORING

not much to it! the bucket tool is the best way to go. again just get a good look at your references just in case any parts have the lineart also colored in

THE BACKGROUND

you can find some generic td background pics on google or u could get them from the show and try to erase any character in the way lmao. if ur recreating something like, say, a dunc/ney scene w a different ship, then its very tedious but youll have to do your best to erase the canon characters and piece the background back together.

i like using the smudge tool a lot for this!!! just kinda pulling whats already there towards the characters. to save time, put your drawing visible on a top layer as you do this so that you dont have to edit the ENTIRE background, just what you need

THE RENDERING

ok so heres a big one imo. after youre done, youre gonna have to fuck up the quality at least a little. well not that u HAVE to but like..... to match the standard quality of a td screenshot? ive never seen a td screenshot in perfect hd quality outside of stock art. so u could blur ur drawing just a little bit. maybe add in the teeniest bit of chromatic aberration (just set it to 1 or -1). not ALL of them together but u do whatever u gotta do

my personal favorite is blurring just a little and then saving it as a jpeg (around 65-80%) so that its pretty crunchy and looks all the more real

obviously not a NECESSARY step but just something to point out. especially if ur background isnt the best quality so the characters have to match it

this one from yesterday i didnt even redraw topher bc i was lazy and he looks fine enough. i just put danny onto the pic to cover the other character. so i blurred danny a little bit and then saved it in a pretty low quality so that they match one another. look at those pixels. that crunch.

SO THE TLDR IS just trace and copy your references as close as possible. if you cant find a reference for your character, try finding another character w something close enough

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gren-arlio · 6 months

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Well. I'm back from my 2 week break.

Those two weeks felt great ngl. Lot happened, from Homecoming to my (somehow) online prosecuting career, but indeed, the man who translates silly games is back.

I'll post next week about Rulue's Spring Break of Fists, and then we finally return back to Waku Puyo Dungeon. Wahoo.

To make it up, here ya go. The models for the Yokai Watch collab that Puyo had a while ago. They were finally extracted, but lack a rig, so we gotta do that ourselves.

Curiously, they have a whole different render for another Arle, as well as Masked Prince. (NOT Satan.) Unfortunately, Rulue missed the bus and didn't get in.

And fun fact: This marks the 2nd time Witch and Draco got 3D renders NOT from Chronicle. The other time was Kemono Friends 3.

Nothing spectacular but definitely something unique to see. Wonder if we have these models extracted also.

With that lil' note, that'll be all for a bit. We're back in business.

#madou monogatari #japanese translation #waku waku puyo puyo dungeon #arle puyo puyo #schezo puyo puyo #puyo puyo #sega #arle nadja #satan puyo puyo #witch puyo puyo #schezo wegey #draco puyo puyo

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taqoou · 1 month

Note

hi, your art style is so cool!! i love it

as a beginner artist, i was wondering if you had any helpful tips for procreate or anything? the art world is kinda daunting lol😅

thank u so much!! ive been feeling down ab my art so seeing this in my inbox was like a sweet treat LMAOO 🎀

so back to the q…. im afraid i dont have any mind blowing tips. its normal to feel overwhelmed as a beginner, but everyone starts somewhere! i say familiarize urself with basic procreate shortcuts (loads of tutorials online) and always play around with their settings! it should be helpful for the learning process along the way.

for eg ermm i used to abuse the gradient maps settings to pretend i know shit ab colouring 😭💀 i still do tbh, except now i understand how it actually works and i can easily get the colours that i want.

some of the things i learned:

1. cool lineart (i always use this as a part of my render process)

2. art is subjective, pick any that you think suits your preference/is fun to use

for brush, do you prefer it round or textured? lots of pressure sensitivity or none? i like my brushes textured and with a good amount of pressure sensitivity. for blending, do you prefer the transition colour to appear smooth or textured/messy? i sometimes mix between both to give a sense of harmony, but i like it textured more. it all comes down to what feels right to you. pick a few artyles that you like and incorporate it into ur own! pretty basic tip but thats the best way that i know. just pretend ur a mad scientist trying to find cure for like cancer or sumn

3. personal opinion: brush type matters

dont listen when someone says the type of brush u use doesnt matter. yes you can draw with any brush. yes all brushes work the same way 🤯🤯🤯. but theres gotta be that ONE brush that just hits the spot for you, as if its made specially for Your Hands….. unfortunately theres no shortcut to finding Your Brush. it took me 4 years of endless experimenting to find mine.

if ur curious on what brushes i use, i have it listed in my carrd. however i still experiment a lot and dont rly bother to update it, but those should be what i use the most/my top favs !

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

i dont think this covers everything, but this is all i could think of from the top of my head. just lots of trials and errors really, and dont be afraid to make a mess!!! i hope this answers ur question :33 all the best!

#ask #tutorial #-ish?#hope i answered this right jdhfgwj

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masterwords · 7 months

Text

between you and me

Summary: Hotch & Morgan go out into the wilderness for a weekend survival competition. They're wet, muddy and happy. That's all. There isn't a plot here.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: a lot of swearing, dude talk, food, chronic pain (hotch), foyet & stabbing mentions

AO3: between you and me

Notes: I had this image of them being skilled and competent and really adorable in the woods, and this is what came of it. A lot harder to write than you would think - it's so much just snappy dialogue and vibes. Don't expect poetry. Also, it should go without saying but: I made this up. This is not a real thing, I just wanted to put them in the woods with low-stakes and the ability to have some fun together doing the insane type adrenaline junkie shit I know those fools would enjoy. So, I made up an incredibly silly scenario and went all in.

***

“Both of you?” Rossi asked with a smirk. Looks like a cat who just got a mouthful of canary. “How long ago did you put in?”

“They’ve been passing me up for five years, Rossi.” Morgan lamented his misery convincingly while Hotch just smiled in that gentle, confident but subdued way he had that said I win. Everything was a competition with them.

“I’m at eight. They claimed it was too hard to justify putting a Unit Chief out of commission for three days, what if I had to be recalled and there was no service? And then when they did finally select me…”

“Foyet. I remember.” Rossi almost hated using the man’s name, like it might bring him back from the dead. He was hesitant and let his eyes linger on Hotch for a moment longer than necessary, gauging his reaction. It had been two years but he wasn’t sure time really mattered when trying to heal something like that. To his credit, Hotch gave no real indication that it made any difference. He simply nodded somberly and agreed – yes, he’d been chosen, and then Foyet met him in his apartment and bled him out, stopped his heart, rendered him incapable of participating. And ever since then, they’d pulled the Unit Chief speech when he asked why he wasn’t selected but he knew – they were afraid of his physical status after the stabbing. He must finally have worn them down, or proven that he was physically capable. Or maybe they were just tired of him throwing his name in the bucket and had a pool going to see how far he could make it before he collapsed. He might be wondering that himself.

“And you still want to do it? Go spend three days in the woods miserable with no roof over your head, no bed to sleep in, no good food or hot running water?”

“Bold talk comin’ from a Marine…”

“Ever heard of the draft, smart ass?”

“Fair enough. But we’re doing it and yes, we want to do it.” Derek had no idea if Rossi was being honest about the draft situation, he’d known he was a vet but he realized he didn’t know that much about Rossi’s service. Didn’t seem like the time to ask, anyway.

“Will you be together or are they separating you?”

“No idea. We’ll find out at the debrief tonight, they’re serving dinner and giving us our assignments. I’m assuming we’ll be separate, can’t imagine why they’d keep us together. It’s gotta be like a lottery situation. God I hope I don’t get paired up with some DEA asshat.”

“It’s only branches of the FBI this round,” Hotch pointed out, leaving through the paperwork he’d been given. It was vague about most details, just dates and times and a whole lot of TBA. It made his skin prickle. “Awfully secretive.” That he muttered more to himself, but Derek heard and it got his wheels turning.

“Well, damn. And here I thought you boys might be getting a date night out of this.”

That made Hotch and Morgan both laugh. They did like things a little off the beaten path when it came to their personal lives, but that’s what you get when you put two adrenaline junkies together in close quarters – what they considered dates weren’t exactly things other couples might. They preferred a day out on their bikes in the mountain air to a movie night, and an evening at the swimming pool taking laps and sucking chlorine was better than a stuffy and expensive candlelit dinner. So to say that a weekend spent in the woods utilizing survival training skills instead of lounging around the house sounded like a date wasn’t far off base. Of course, in Rossi’s very wise opinion, he thought they could both better use their time by simply taking a nap.

As it turned out, they were partnered up. It was a department challenge, two from counter-terrorism, two from organized crime, two from BAU, two from the fugitive task force, two from political corruption and two from the cyber crimes unit. Hotch looked around at the people he knew and tried to imagine them in the woods, tried to imagine them with a better partner than his. “We’ve got this,” he whispered to Derek who simply nodded his approval. It was a competition, and the two of them were not in the habit of losing, even to people who were in far better shape than them. Derek had been battling a chest cold the week prior, though he seemed to be mostly in the clear, and Hotch had overdone it playing soccer with Jack and been dealing with some latent knee pain for the last few days. The medications they’d put him on after the stabbing struck him with only mild side effects most of the time, but the most cumbersome was the intermittent bouts of joint pain. It came and went, usually after he’d overdone it and he was very good at overdoing it. Overdoing it was kind of his specialty.

One day of training with Commander Stevens, a Navy SEAL who had the brilliant idea to put the FBI through the ringer. Just for fun, or so he implied. “Torture the pencil pushers,” was what Hotch overheard him whispering with some fellow officers. Hotch wasn’t motivated by needing to prove himself to anyone but he was certain some of these people at the tables eating pinwheel sandwiches from Costco were allowing their feathers to be ruffled by the insinuation that they weren’t tough enough. That alone would give him a competitive edge – he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone.

They had reported to Quantico at 6am for the first of it, bright eyed and coffee in hand. Derek’s cold was all but gone and Hotch felt good. Optimistic. They spent the morning in a classroom listening to the Commander lecture about survival in the Appalachians, people who walk the trail, how they get lost and how to avoid it. Survival for beginners is what Derek said later, and he prided himself on not being a beginner. The two of them had spent some time out in the Smokey Mountains, nothing close to the intensity of the next few days but they weren’t strangers to the area. After lunch they spent the afternoon brushing up on skills training, getting their equipment, learning the rules of the game.

“This remind you of those movies where bored rich guys are hunting dudes in the woods?” Derek asked as he tossed his 75lb backpack into their SUV and waited while Hotch did the same. Three days and two nights in the woods walking for upwards of thirty miles when all was said and done with a backpack that weighed as much as Jack strapped to each of their backs, that realization was the first time Hotch felt a little pang of anxiety. He could do it but he was going to pay for it.

“You and Jessica watch too much television.”

“No seriously. This is how they all start, they’re like oh you guys are the best of the best and you won this fantastic retreat or vacation or really high honor of some kind...then bam. You’re being hunted by rich dudes with fuckin’ laser guns you didn’t even know existed yet, some kind of military grade stuff you only see in movies starring Schwarzenegger.”

“Way too much television…”

Derek ran his idea by Jessica while they shared their last family dinner for a few days and she agreed wholeheartedly. Didn’t even miss a beat. “You guys be careful,” she said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. Jack looked on with wide eyes, taking in everything they said but not picking up on the sarcasm lacing every word.

“Is it dangerous?” he asked, trying to make some sense of it in the way young kids do. He still had trouble differentiating fact from fiction, cartoons from reality, and Derek and Jessica were not helping in the slightest. Jessica shot Hotch a look that said to tread lightly. He wasn’t sure if that meant lie through his teeth or be honest. Both felt wrong, and this question was her fault anyway...why should he have to be the one to answer for it? Didn’t seem quite fair.

“It can be, buddy. But I’ll be okay. I’ll be with Derek, and there are fail safes in place if we get into trouble. It’s supposed to be for fun. A learning experience and a game.”

“A game!” That seemed to please him.

“The most dangerous game…” Derek whispered and Hotch elbowed him a little too hard in the ribs.

“Exactly, Jack. A fun game. Kind of like camping and a race...capture the flag for grown ups.”

“Can we go camping soon?” Crisis averted. Jack was no longer concerned about his dads being hunted in the woods. Whatever that meant. He still wasn’t sure.

“Sure buddy.” An easy concession.

Even Hotch couldn’t help feeling a little trepidation when they were dropped into the woods by helicopter. That did feel a little too on the nose, a little too much like one of the movies Derek couldn’t stop talking about. It was meant to disorient them, and it succeeded. “Just like in SWAT,” Derek said as he checked Hotch’s pack and Hotch did the same for him. “You ready?”

“Born ready.” A bit of a stretch, they both knew. But the minute he was standing with this face turned into the wind, that adrenaline rush kicked in and he sucked in a breath of fresh air and helicopter gasoline and maybe he felt like it wasn’t such a stretch after all.

Derek descended the ladder first with Hotch right behind him. The sound of the chopper hurt Hotch’s ears until it disappeared over the treeline and they were left alone with the sounds of the woods. Without a word they each began surveying their surroundings – Hotch consulted his map while Derek walked around and got a lay of the land, checked out the views, climbed up a tree for a better view. In the end, they both decided on the same route. No argument, no issue. Off to a surprisingly easy start.

Jessica had guessed they’d be fighting over which route to take immediately and they couldn’t wait to tell her how wrong she was.

They walked and walked and walked. The air was heavy, the humidity oppressive. Hotch could feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine. Derek seemed to be handling it worse than he was – he’d already taken his long sleeves off. Hotch wouldn’t even think of it for a while yet. He’d rather have the protection from bugs. He can handle sweat.

They didn’t talk while they walked, didn’t want to waste precious energy on the first day – it’s all climbing elevation, steep hills that seem to go on and on forever but when they stopped for a moment to have a water break and a bite of food, they settled into quiet and pleasant conversation about things they saw, smelled, heard. Everything seemed to flow together seamlessly, the way Hotch would take the lead in places and Derek would slip by and take the lead in others. Instinctively knowing when one or the other needed a chance to suck wind in the back, slow down and smell the roses so to speak.

They managed almost ten miles before they decided to set up camp for the night. Everyone else had planned to stop around the 8th mile, before the big elevation change. It had sounded nice, too, when they stood at the base of the mound that rose before them, but they were both feeling up to a few extra miles and the weather held while they traveled. They watched a storm rolling in over the tree line and knew they’d rather be further ahead when it finally hit, just in case it took them longer to get going the next day. Having higher ground sounded appealing for a rain storm.

Quietly they set up their little camp, stringing a tarp between trees, getting their fire going, making sure they had what they needed before raising the rest of their packs up into the trees above, wrapped securely in tarp. They had each brought their own sleeping bag and wool blankets, just in case they were caught sleeping in a camp with others, but out here on their own they decided to pool their resources and get cozy.

It was a date night, after all. They’d slipped just enough off the path that they didn’t imagine anyone would wander by them if they slept a little later. It was safe.

The storm hit while they boiled their water to heat up their MRE packets. Out of their selections, Hotch decided they should have the biscuits and gravy with a side of chorizo breakfast tacos. Derek was appalled by his selections but when he looked at the other options he realized they didn’t sound any better. The first pang of homesick hit him then, as he crumbled freeze dried biscuits into a mylar bag and reconstituted their meal. He thought about sitting around the table with Jessica and Jack, with his family, and digging into a delicious warm meal that hadn’t been preserved before he was born. They had a good time describing the flavors of the meal, picking it apart like they were eating at a michelin star restaurant instead of out of mylar bags in the woods. Hotch decided that the biscuits and gravy weren’t half bad for space bag food, but the tacos were appalling. Derek could barely choke down either of them and refused to call them food.

It was soft at first, just the pitter-patter of fat rain drops falling through trees and plopping onto their tarp but soon it began pounding and Derek pushed in closer to Hotch as the ground absorbed the water and crept closer to them. “This is gonna suck,” he said, but he barely meant it. He was leaning against Hotch eating a cookie that was probably made when Rossi was in the Marines and mixing up a cup of powdery lemonade chock full of salty crumbly bits. “This would be better with vodka,” he said, setting the small paper cup to his lips. Hotch smiled and agreed in his sleepy way. He was halfway to lights out already.

The second day was all rain. They woke up wet and packed up their wet camp and set out in wet clothes. Derek threw his ballcap on and Hotch cinched up the hood of his rain jacket until hardly more than his nose protruded from the opening, and that was how they set out very glad they didn’t have to climb that first hill in the mud. The rest of the group was going to have some trouble with their footing. By mid-morning they both had the start of some serious blisters, Derek was freezing, and they were clinging to that small happiness that came with knowing they had given themselves a solid head start on the day. Not as far to go before they could set up camp, light a fire and try to get warm.

Hotch began limping by mid-day. Derek had just decided it was his turn to lead and slowed his pace to drop behind, let Hotch past, and that was when he first noticed. He wondered how long it had been going on behind him. He didn’t seem to care about trying to hide it.

Just a slight limp at first, becoming more and more pronounced as the silent miles wore on. Derek tried to talk him into a water break, a rest, anything. He couldn’t bear to watch it without trying to stop it.

“Derek, we’re three miles from today’s rendezvous and we’re hours ahead of schedule. We keep to the plan, we stop only we get there.”

“You’re limping.”

“And I’ll limp for three more miles.”

The way he said it so matter-of-fact grated on Derek’s nerves. It was the first time he could feel an argument bubbling up in his chest during the whole time they’d been out there. He swallowed it down and pleaded instead.

“Why don’t we just take a breather? You said it yourself, we’re hours ahead of schedule. A short water break, you can rest your leg and I can find my rain jacket.”

Hotch slowed his pace and turned to Derek, softening enough that he didn’t come across mean. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this weekend. “Your rain jacket is tied around your waist, and if I stop now, I might not be able to get going again at this pace. I don’t want to lose momentum.”

“Come on, man. I was hoping this trip would be fun, not miserable.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“So you like limping through the woods?”

“Derek...if my ability to enjoy things was contingent on my body feeling good, I would lead a very different life than I do now. You know that my body has been different since Foyet’s attack and I think I’ve done a pretty good job of not letting it stop us from having fun. Part of that is knowing when I can push through and when I can’t. I can push through this. I can make it three miles. I believe I could make it at least five, if I’m being honest, but I’d rather not.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better…”

“It wasn’t meant to, it was just meant to let you know that I’m not stopping and I am having a good time. This is fun.”

“Yeah. Okay. What is it?”

“My knee.”

“The one you tweaked when we were out with Jack the other day?”

“The very same. Probably just the medication making an overuse issue worse. Please stop worrying and walk faster. Don’t let a guy with a bum knee out-hike you.”

They walked on, the banter predictably turning to light bickering, competitive shit talk, but always smiling. Derek figured it was easier to light up a small argument that would keep them both distracted for the last few miles than continue to try and get Hotch to stop. It was futile to try and get Hotch to do anything he didn’t want to do. That lesson had been a hard one to learn.

They came up on their check in point and were pleased to find that they were the third pair out of ten to pass through. Not bad, considering the limping slowing them down some, though Hotch had blamed it mostly on Derek. From there, all they had to do was find themselves a place to set up camp for the night and wait for everyone else to arrive. This was the only night where there were group activities in store, team building exercises that neither Hotch nor Morgan was thrilled about. They found a place a little off the beaten path, away from the crowd of people who wanted to be close to visit and talk about their experiences. They had no interest in making small talk. With the hope that those ominous clouds overhead would pass them by without dumping on them, they began to quickly assemble their camp. They were already cold and wet, their shoes were wet on the inside and Derek insisted that Hotch prop his leg up on the mound of his pack and put some ice on his knee instead of them hoisting the pack up the tree. They had two portable cold packs that wouldn’t do him much good, but there was a small creek nearby and Derek thought maybe later, if the weather held, they could go stand in it for a while. That would feel good on their aching legs and feet, sweet relief for both of them. For now, they ate some snacks and ended up falling asleep to the pitter-patter of tiny raindrops.

By evening, it was another full scale storm. No thunder and lightning, but soaking wet. No fires, which meant no hot food. Just huddling together under the blankets they had for warmth and eating the convenience food they’d stored – some nuts and dried fruits, granola, bottled water and beef jerky. Not enough to fill either of them up but they were glad for the storm and Derek hadn’t exactly been thrilled at the prospect of freeze dried beef stroganoff or chicken alfredo and peach cobbler that would just make him even more homesick for some real food. The weather had meant that the team building exercises were put on hold and they couldn’t complain about that, certainly.

Instead, they got a second date night, just like Dave had said. They tangled themselves together and shared the blankets for warmth, knowing that they had a definite advantage over anyone not involved in an explicitly forbidden (or at least frowned upon) workplace love affair. They had the kind of warmth that comes from being close, sharing body heat. Derek thought about Jerry and Mason from the fugitive team huddling like this and the thought brought him nearly to laughter.

“Hotch,” Derek whispered after a long silence, after listening to the storm rustle through the trees above them and rattle the tarp, thankful that there was no lightning. He shifted their bodies to get them off of the protruding root that was digging into his hip and curled up a little tighter. “You gonna be okay to walk fifteen miles tomorrow?”

Hotch hummed. “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

“We can tap out. Take the day and just chill. No shame in that.”

“Not a chance. Why, are you tired? Do you want to stop?”

“What? No. What…”

“It just sounds like maybe you’re using my knee as a way out.”

“I am not.”

“No?” Hotch asked, smiling as he kissed Derek in the dark, nuzzling his cold nose into Derek’s warm skin. “You sure?”

“Man. Fuck your knee. I hope it gives out on you tomorrow.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’ll leave you behind, let you get snatched by the people hunters.”

“No you won’t.”

Derek sighed. “No I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I forgive you.”

Hotch’s knee held up better than he’d anticipated through the last fifteen miles of the trek. The ache was deep and kept him awake some of the night worrying that he was being over-confident, but by morning it had loosened up some. He was limping and in considerable pain somewhere around the fifth mile but they had a good time, and that was worth plenty of discomfort in his book. By the tenth mile Derek had himself a little limp too, his blisters giving him grief. It wasn’t so much a limp, Hotch thought, as it was a painful waddle through the woods.

“My gooch is on fire,” Derek said when he noticed Hotch scrutinizing the way he was walking. “Damn rain gave me some wicked swamp ass.”

“Derek…” Hotch laughed, shaking his head.

“What? You sayin’ it’s not bothering you?”

Hotch refused to dignify that with an answer.

The last day was gloriously rain free, and where they ended had even better access to the creek than their camp the night before. So they had to trudge through thick, soupy mud and fight their way up past landslides to get to the end...it would make the creek that much better. At more than one spot, Hotch allowed Derek to help hoist him up, pull him up a hill when his knee buckled beneath him and refused to support his weight at certain angles. He couldn’t even be mad about that, not even when Derek insisted that he piggy back to the finish. (Hotch’s staunch refusal to even consider it gave him a hearty laugh, the kind that fueled the rest of his walk. Put a pep in his step, as his mother would say.)

They didn’t arrive first, that was Jerry and Mason from fugitive and Derek assumed it was the thought of snuggling the night before...they were so appalled at it, they didn’t sleep, they just got up and finished the race. Hotch and Derek managed to come in a respectable third and were pleased with it.

“You think the richies got the cyber nerds?”

“We’ll never know,” Hotch said, rolling his eyes at Derek’s question. He had been surprised that the commentary on human hunters had been dropped while they were out in the woods, maybe that was due to his knee taking up too much of Derek’s thoughts. If that was the case, he was thankful for the pain he’d endured that much more.

As soon as all of the formalities were done and everyone had separated, tired and ready for a shower, Hotch sent Jessica a text to let her know where to get them. It was his first time turning on his phone in days and he was glad to slide it back into his bag, ready to kick out of his shoes and do a quick change into shorts and t-shirts for some time in the creek. Everyone else piled out, ready to return to civilization but they wanted to stick around a while. It was the best part of the whole trip, standing in the icy water, all blisters and swollen knee and swamp ass, eating handfuls of trail mix while they waited for Jess and Jack to come pick them up.

“You boys look rough!” Jess called, walking carefully down the slope of pebbly hillside toward the water while Jack and Clooney bounded quickly. No fear. Her feet slipped out from under her more than once in the loose packed ground that had been ravaged by the storms of the last two days. Hotch and Derek just stood in the water and watched, content not to move, just to stand.

Jack and Clooney played with rocks, Jack trying to skip them over the current and Clooney trying to catch them while Jessica attacked them with a barrage of questions from her dry perch on the rocky beach. She wasn’t about to take her shoes off and get in, she knew damn well that water was cold.

“No hunters?”

“No hunters,” Hotch replied quickly. Derek shot him a disparaging look and then glanced at Jessica.

“We don’t know that. We never saw the guys from cyber crimes come out…”

Hotch groaned. “I overheard Jerry from fugitive say that the cyber guys tapped out the first night when it started raining.”

“Sure they did. You believe that? They’re someone’s dinner, buddy.”

Hotch, with a smile, decided he’d had enough of the woods and was ready to go home. He hadn’t been able to take any pain medication while they were out in the woods, not wanting to dull his senses when he needed them, but boy was he ready now to make up for lost time. Jack watched his dad limp gingerly out of the water with a look of concern, and without hesitation Jessica reached out to take his hand. She steadied him as he struggled to find adequate footing on slippery rocks.

“Bum knee?” she asked, stepping dangerously close to the water in her shoes. He made an effort to move a little faster, holding her hand but not letting her do much.

“Yeah. Bum knee.”

“Let me help you old man.” She held his hand tighter and guided him out of the water, letting him lean on her for the short walk up the hill. Derek followed close behind with Jack slung over his shoulder and Clooney nipping at his heels. He’d come back for their packs once his family was securely placed in the vehicle and ready to go. They had a long drive ahead of them.

“He says he’s fine.”

“Oh, yeah, well he definitely looks fine.”

“I am fine.” Hotch was grumbling as he fumbled with his seat belt in Jessica’s little rust bucket of a car. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford a better car, she just didn’t want one. She loved her old Volkswagen Rabbit that required a special mechanic and wait times that were absurd for broken parts, with its rusted burnt orange paint job and bright flower decals that screamed Woodstock and Grateful Dead. Hotch barely fit in the car and he had to slide in sideways, bending his sore knees at an awkward angle to make sure Jack would fit behind him and Derek could slide in on the other side. Jessica didn’t let anyone else drive her car and she hated when Hotch was in the front seat, his long legs dangerously close to the stick shift. No way he’d fit in the back, though. “You should have brought my car,” Hotch said when she started the engine. It took two tries and at least ten minutes to let the old girl warm up enough that she wouldn’t stall out the minute Jessica tried to hit the gas.

“I hate driving that thing. It’s a grandma car.”

He had no argument there. If grandma car meant safe and secure, if that meant protected, then yeah. He did drive a grandma car. She drove a rust bucket and Derek had a motorcycle, one of them had to be responsible.

“Can we have PIZZA for dinner?!” Jack asked, thrashing around in the backseat and kneeing Hotch in the small of his back repeatedly through the thin, broken down old leather seats. Clooney’s hot breath from the back was overpowering. Hotch frowned and cranked the window down for some air.

“I want steak. A big juicy steak. One that came from a cow that was alive this century.”

“Jess, you up for playing grillmaster tonight? I don’t think I can stand that long…” Derek said, trying to stretch his legs out along the backseat, right over the top of Jack. His seat belt didn’t work anyway, and he was beat. A barbecue did sound nice though, Hotch had the right idea. A big juicy steak, some ibuprofen (and maybe something a little stronger for Hotch), some beers, and a long long nap. After a shower. He had mud in places he didn’t know mud could get.

“If I get to wear your apron and use your fancy spatula. You know the one.”

Derek grunted under his breath about that being his stuff, but he couldn’t argue. If it meant he didn’t have to do the work he’d probably agree to just about anything.

And as the sun sank over the trees, Jessica stood in Derek’s apron (that hung to her knees and looked ridiculous on a woman her size) and started getting the grill ready. She would enjoy getting the chance to be grillmaster for the night, Derek didn’t often relinquish the job. Hotch rarely took it, he preferred to lounge in the hammock, his one true indulgence. It was her turn. She set about cleaning the grill and seasoning it first, going through all the steps before slapping the big fat steaks on to sizzle while Jack and Clooney played. Hotch and Derek, freshly showered and medicated, were content to doze off in the hammock together and wait for their meal which they both promised they would wake back up for.

“If you don’t, Clooney will eat your steaks. There’s always the MREs in your pack for later. I saw one that said it was beef ravioli in meat sauce. Sounds delicious.”

“Why are you so mean?” Derek whined, his voice muffled and sleepy. His face was pressed into the back of Hotch’s head, Hotch who was already fast asleep smelling like sweet shampoo and icy hot. It hadn’t taken him any time at all once his eyes were closed. She smiled and shrugged.

“Go to sleep Derek. I’m sure the mosquitoes will wake you up before I do.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #hotchgan #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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thanatasia · 1 year

Text

Very busy with other projects but have a Na’vi Oc because I’m excited to finally watch this movie next week!

I don’t know too much about her aside that she’s soft spoken + shy, and she’s got a sad backstory. Idk why sketching her made me want to loosely render but I had a lot of fun. A new year goal is to get better at painterly rendering- wish me luck.

Her marking are off in the second colored piece because I just couldn’t go back and forth. Also here’s an example of most times I just like my sketches over my lineart or rendering. I love the messy look- just gotta make it look like a clean mess lol

Soooo excited to watch Avatar: The Way of Water!!!

Gelfling and Na’vi are my jam!!!

#thanatasia #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na’vi Oc #na’vi #na’vi and Gelfling are cousins

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lazar-codes · 3 months

Text

01/02/2024 || Day 11 (dop)

TLDR:

🔸 added last class' ASL words to my program

🔸 worked on toggle for Frontend Mentor project

🔸 started and finished an illustration for fanart

🔸 started and nearly finished editing and rendering my recording of my illustration

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I can't believe I'm sick again. I've gotten sick for 3 out of the past 4 months, and I'm annoyed. Luckily this is the mildest illness compared to the other 2, but it's still not fun. All my symptoms have been spread out, so the past 3 days I've had one runny nostril, yesterday I was completely exhausted, this morning I lost my voice, and now the other nostril's runny.

Work

Frontend Mentor - I've been slowly chipping away at this project but now I gotta get my butt into gear because I wanted to finish this in January, and it's now February and I still have a lot left to do. Today I worked on the implementation of the toggle between the "monthly" and "yearly" plans, and I got it to work by changing the display to either the "monthly" or "yearly" cost to be either "none" or "block". This is basically what the HTML looks like, and below's the functionality for the toggle.

Basically, I get all the elements that have the term "plan_cost" as their class name and for each element, depending on what the toggle is on (i.e. monthly or yearly) I change their display property. I can fix the code to make it not repetitive, but for now it's fine. I've been doing this project using TypeScript and some of my errors are a little confusing, but Google is a good resource.

Anyways, here's what I have so far. It ain't much, but it's honest work;

Art

Ok, I'm gonna do a bit of a ramble here. I've been replaying The Last of Us Part 2 throughout all of January and I finished it last week. It's still an emotionally heavy game, but it did the trick and motivated me to want to draw some fanart. I've been sketching random stuff in my sketchbook almost every day (not lately now that I'm sick but whatever), but there's one idea that I had that I kept on coming back to, and today I had enough energy to sit down, open up Photoshop, and just draw it. And oh man, that felt really good! I haven't drawn in Photoshop in a while because I've been forcing myself to use Procreate, but it's just not the same. I feel like PS allows me to draw with more control of my lines and details and such, and my image just looks sharper than on Procreate. So I actually managed to pump out a piece that looks pretty much how I imagined it would look, and I didn't get frustrated like I would on Procreate. I also recorded my process and was working on making it a speedpaint, but nearly 4 hours of raw footage was rough on my PC and it's already super late at night, so I'll finish up that process tmr. I love making speedpaints and watching them afterwards. At least that'll count for my days of productivity tmr.

#studyblr #100 days of code #codeblr #programming #coding #lazar blogs #100 days of productivity

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kbandtrash · 2 years

Text

SVT Feels (Hip Hop Unit)

~Rachel~

I've been possessed so. Here you go. Essentially just an aspect of what I think it would be like in a relationship with them (all fluff)

Masterlist

Not sure where to put the cut but aren't they doing it automatically now so does it matter

S.Coups

He can sleep next to you and it’s a miracle to him

And even when he can’t he just feels so peaceful and grateful that he feels well-rested

After a long day and a meal together it’s ~bed time~

Which of course involves holding hands and giggling as you run to your bedroom and shut the door behind you

Under the covers and he has his arms wrapped around you like you’re a pregnancy pillow or something

His head on your chest and he just snuggles into you

Your hand in his hair and he’s out like a light

Even though it’s not technically ”””doing something together””” it is most certainly quality relationship building time

In the morning he’s nice and warm and you can consciously enjoy being wrapped up together

And sometimes you fall asleep again

But like still

Are there any other thoughts than “I love this”

I think not

How lucky are you to love each other this fittingly

Sometimes it’s falling asleep holding hands

Sometimes it’s on your sides curled up into his chest

That’s when he plays with your hair and kisses your forehead and tells you about all of the things that happened today and how much he thought about you

It’s a low talking voice at the beginning and barely a whisper as he’s letting sleep take over

Wonwoo

Perhaps. A little too respectful

You gotta remind him sometimes like “hey you know you’re allowed to touch me if you want to”

And he just gets so embarrassed like “yeah I know”

He’s sneaky and quiet about showing affection

He’s kinda shy so he doesn’t want to draw too much attention even when it’s literally just the two of you

Sometimes you don’t even notice until he’s long gone that he did something

Like 5 minutes later oh! That was a kiss on the cheek

It almost feels to him maybe that you’re still kinda forbidden ground

And so every time he does try something it feels risky and rebellious and special

But if you make moves then he’ll totally follow your lead because then it feels like he’s been given permission

He’s also kind of afraid that if he acted on every impulse he had then he would be too much

It’s not a lack of interest at all he’s just still in the phase of not wanting to scare you away

Like you have to make every step at least five times before he’ll try it himself

And even then he’s nervous about it

He’ll get there though don’t worry

For now though you just have to catch him staring at you with a lovestruck little smile

Mingyu

Tall but small

Extra clumsy and that ends up with a lot of unintentional physical contact

He doesn’t realize you’re behind him so he almost knocks you over

And then he catches you and has to check you all over to make sure you’re okay

Extremely well meaning but awkward

He’s articulate if you give him the time to be

But on the spot he’s the human equivalent of a keyboard spam

If you look at him the right way he is rendered entirely incapable of speaking coherent words

He’s fun to tease because he takes everything seriously until he figures it out

After that he either gets sulky (to which the cure is an apology and a kiss on the forehead)

Or he gets too giggly to tease you back

Every once in a while he can come back with an oddly specific zinger

Never anything mean but like how in comics a speech bubble will stab a person

He always puts things way too low for him to be able to see later because he doesn’t want to put anything too high for you

Like babe there’s a stepstool for a reason

Puppy boy just responds no don’t strain yourself

And keeps forgetting that he’s tall

Vernon

He knows your name he really does

He just never uses it

Instead it’s babe and dude and some shortened version of your name and for some reason I think he might use doll

This is true likewise as well

He thinks he’s in trouble if you ever call him by his name

His very favorite that you call him is love

If you need him to do anything then just call him love and he is done for

That’s one you use sparingly though so it never loses its effect

You don’t quite want him to get used to

If he gets used to it then you’re scared he’ll stop physically melting whenever you say it

You call him love and you can see his mood lift

This little smile grows on his face and he turns into dough

And if he stopped doing that

Then what?

What then?

What would you do without a way to turn him into a soft shy cuddly boy on demand?

Cry probably

He has caught onto this but he’s not mad or anything

He just wants a way to do it to you too

In his quest for the soft shy cuddly gf button he has come up with an absolutely wild variety of nicknames

And it kinda works though lol

Vocal Unit

#seventeen #svt #hip hop unit #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt soft hours #s.coups #wonwoo #mingyu #vernon

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partyinthemysterymachine · 2 years

Note

I'M CURIOUS AF WHO ARE THESE TWO MONSTERS NEAR POOR SCARED HARRY? 😳😳😳👀👀👀

SHAKES AND VIBRATES

oh!! oh you wish to know my monsters?? u wish to hear GOOMT's monsters?? WELL!!!! ha ha ha OOOHHH

OOH I'M GLAD YOU ASKED!!!

(no rly bless u, ilusm, thank u for asking and ur vested interest, i'm REALLY SUPER appreciative ❤️❤️❤️💖💖💖🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚)

and ofc, since u know i gotta, here is the obligatory link to my Harry/James glacial slowburn, Get Out Of My Town, and GOOMT’s corresponding blog for updates, aesthetics, art, and all that jazz!

NOW KEEP IN MIND: these are only descriptions of the monsters in the full picture i did here. there are others in the monster cast too, that are LOTS of barrels of fun, and VERY intricate and intriguing in their own way, just as the ones mentioned/following.

(the picture itself is a part of the GOOMT actor AU, where it’s all just a show, folks! (consider it to the likes of the Silent Hill blooper reel, which we were ROBBED OF in later games >:( 🔪 @ konami 5ever) and you can find its tag here.)

CONTENT WARNING: descriptions of child death, James Sunderland

JAMES SUNDERLAND

James Sunderland is a stupid little idiot weasel and conduit of Silent Hill. he has so many problems and is not going to do anything about it because he’s a stupid and depressed little wanker who doesn’t have any rights, not that he ever did in his life.

after the events of Silent Hill 2, James pitched himself into the lake but the town wasn’t gonna let him off easy. it had plans, and needs, for James. our boy here crawled right out of Toluca Lake after haphazardly (and illegally, but whatever; who’s gonna give him a ticket? .. yeah that’s what i thought) parking it in its depths and has remained in South Vale ever since. James sure darn well tried, but he cannot escape through death at his own hand, or otherwise. in fact, the monsters he (and we) have come to know and love have gradually become disinterested in him.

(as for Pyramid Head? huh! well, it’s weird; James hasn’t seen him around in quite a while.. hrm.. really gotta wonder what’s up with that.. ;3c )

what it means to be a conduit of Silent Hill, however, is a little complicated; but the baseline is that he’s Silent Hill’s little battery pack. it needs him and through fun time psychological (and physical, now and again.. but the monsters don’t wanna play anymore, for some reason..) torture, James does what he does best and wallows a sure hell of a lot, thus accumulating nutritious and scrum-diddily-umpious negative power for the town.

oh 👂 you ask, “and for what does it need it, and why James?” great question!

wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?? ;) but you can read about it all riiight here, babey!!

ok ok jk jk (sorta lol) (bc i mean come on. ISN’T he a monster, tho......? ....hrrmmm hmm hmmmmm........ sources point to yes, if SH2 has anything to say about it, LOL)

let’s ACTUALLY start with my HONEST personal favorite:

THE MEMORY OF HARRY

(this monster was very aptly named by a good friend of mine - hi Gospel! - and so credit must be given where credit is due.)

ART BY capitán solsikke

(uncertain of where solsikke is keeping their public art contacts/social media now, so solsikke, if u happen to see this, pls drop ur deets so i can link back to u pls :< pls..)

FURTHER NOTE: to reduce the long post scrolling and bc tumblr’s image insertion format is horrid, i’m going to put additional art/links to the GOOMT blog posts for Memory of Harry, bc y’all REALLY gotta see the actual faithful renderings of him i also commissioned from capitán solsikke

the Memory of Harry first appeared at the end of GOOMT’s Chapter 27: Yeah, Me Neither. his description is as follows (and ADDITIONAL NOTE: Harry is, GOOMT-canonically, left-handed):

A lean man teetered on exhausted legs. Because his entry only allowed them to view him from the side, from that angle they saw he wore a brown leather jacket discolored by smoke stains and was torn at the shoulder. The jeans on his legs were tainted and ratty, and his shoes only held together by determination.

From what could be told of his profile, this man’s face had retained most of its features, despite the crusty, black skin covering every inch. His dark hair lay flat on his head, save for a wispy few strands that fanned loose over his brow. Misshapen scarring created a thick, blinding patch over his visible eye. And lastly, the reason his nonstop weeping was muffled was due to a mouth sewn shut so many times that it was replaced by nothing but a bulky, knotted mask.

But this visage was nothing compared to his cargo. In his hand he held a smaller one attached to a thin, tiny arm, of which was connected to the raw and burned corpse of a little girl. She was on her belly, her head hung like a sack of sand between her shoulders, obscuring her face, and her stringy, oily black hair dangling and swaying with every move the man made. On her body was a tattered blue dress, perhaps once long-sleeved as suggested by the remains of ripped fabric at her elbow, and black shoes over white socks patched by dried orange blood and char. Wherever she was forced to go, she left a wet streak of black and crimson in her wake.

James scrutinized this gruesome new monster hard while it shuffled directionless and wracked with demoralizing sobs. It didn’t seem to know they were there and moved at such a slow pace that James figured they were in no immediate danger. He looked at Harry for guidance.

Harry, however, was in no state to do anything but remember how to breathe. His face was contorted in grief and oddly, recognition. James eyed him, somewhat disturbed by it but moreso uncertain, then took his stare back to their visitor.

The victim of a fire unknown changed his direction, somehow having noticed they were there and faced them. Wherever it could be seen, his skin was indeed blackened, cracked, and flaking like bark, and revealed that both of his eyes were blindfolded by the scarring. Beneath the leather jacket, which sported a broken replica of their flashlights, was a sweater vest that bore a royal blue color somehow notable under the charcoaled damage. It was frayed at the hems and layered over a shirt that was once white. But now that he had confronted the resident and veteran full on, James could have never been prepared for what brought it all together:

The bereaved’s left hand which, until now, had been hidden on his other side, was not empty - and never could be. His arm hung lifeless and his fingers welded, forever clutching, a long, rusted, and bloody steel pipe.

James’s lips parted, and his heart dropped like lead straight through the floors.

Neither moved, and the man, at his snail’s pace, sought to meet them. The next garbled cry caused Harry to twist his bludgeon so hard in his white-knuckled fists that his arms briefly trembled. Each step drew the walking corpse a little bit closer, and still, they couldn’t find their feet. With the pieces having fallen together, the implications of what was before them pulled the ropes in James’s stomach tight enough to make him vaguely nauseous.

James heard himself utter a whisper of his companion’s name. His voice seemed to shake Harry out of his stupor, and in time to choke back sob of his own before it began.

He didn’t even feel his vocal cords nor his tongue move when he spoke again. “Is that..”

“It’s me,” Harry said thickly. “Yeah. That’s me.”

===

he was, considering his importance, intended to be used sparingly - and he is. this monster is (thus far, and understandably,) Harry’s least favorite monster, lmao. Harry would really rather this guy Didn’t, but hey - ain’t nobody here that’re gonna let HIM call the shots any time soon!!

the Memory of Harry is an extremely foreboding warning and tale on two legs. he is also 100% capable of ruining Harry’s day in a pinch, just by existing.

(Harry really doesn’t like to think about him.)

CRYING, BURNING WOMAN

(who is taking a moment out of her day to T-pose to get her point across; and of whom has not yet been properly rendered in art form BUT I’M WORKING ON FIXING THAT 👀 @ all local artists with commissions open)

this monster tends to travel in packs of two or more. she’s first seen alone, and is the debut monster in GOOMT’s story, in Chapter 5: Stop Stopping

From the fog emerged a staggering, loose-limbed creature that was closer than either of them had anticipated. It shuffled on buckled legs, its ropey arms swinging carelessly in the momentum. The head drooped on its neck, masking its face from everything but the asphalt, and they ought to be grateful for it. The entirety of this abomination was ravaged in sickening swirls of exposed muscle, black rot eating away at its flesh, and raw, peeling skin. Like most of the hell creatures in Silent Hill, it was an impossibility. The thing moved as though it was treading through tar, but these two were wise to the fact that that shouldn’t be undermined.

The stench of it reached them as soon as they saw it, triggering bile washing up Harry’s throat, and gritted disgust on James’s face. It smelled of charred meat forgotten in an industrial oven fueled by sulfur and was heavy with the unmistakable odor of wet, moldy clothes. Every breath it took sounded labored and painful, and vaguely feminine. In its wake were slicks of thick blood, and if they dared to be any more observant, flung drops of blood from its stiff fingertips as the arms swayed.

she’s seen again, in Chapter 10: Turn Around, Look At What You See

The smell reached them. It was the same they’d experienced before: burnt flesh and moldy clothes. Harry remembered what she looked like, how her arms swung and her spine could barely support her. Her flesh had been peeling, burnt to the bone in some places, and her head hung to conceal her shame. It sounded like there were more than one of these tortured women - perhaps two or three.

and in Chapter 11: The Pocket Travel Guide To Silent Hill, James reflects upon them - and one other.

There were the crying, burning women, and the creature made of static and fumes. The former were forever smoldering, blighted by singed holes in their baked flesh, and dripped black, acidic ichor. Some were bald, their scalps incinerated, and others had long black hair that was both wet and decorated with kindling flames. When they staggered, their faces were obscured by the way their heads hung on broken necks, and when dead, Harry and James rolled them over to unearth the fact that their eyes were blinded by melted skin and their mouths silenced by a red square made of steel. How their screams were audible from behind the plates, they didn’t know. Their bodies reeked of gasoline and scorched wood.

===

(sensing a pattern, here? >;) )

now in that, there’s mention of a “creature made of static and fumes”. she is not pictured, and has a different appearance - and she’s a radio mimic. the radio (huh.. radio..... what’s going on with that radio.....? is it broken...?? hrm. better take it anyway) mimic.

as you can imagine, she’s also one of Harry’s beloved favorites. ;3c

and finally, however quite (so far) unfairly depicted and appearing MUCH later into the story:

THE LOST BOY (1 of 2)

his (and his better(?) half’s) first appearance comes in Chapter 54: Touché

And before one could say “knife”, galloping, meaty claps on vinyl tile heralded the proper, and fashionably late, introduction of the quadrupedal couple. Upon emerging into the artificial headlights, however, they recoiled. At once, and reminiscent of their earlier behavior on the security monitor, Harry and James watched them volley apart. Furthermore, their emotions seemed to be unchanged from the scene with the girl in the corridor.

Demonstrating that behavior in person sowed the seeds of interest, for as intimate as they seemed to be, they also showed signs of having a mysterious, innate fear of being seen together. The predators chose their quarry and took sides on an archer’s bow. During their slow, deliberate advance, they verified the surmised size discrepancy as correct - and the larger made James its target.

Its hunched skeleton made it hard to decipher its entire build, but anyone could see that it boasted the hallmarks of an athlete: lean, sturdy, balanced, and if it stood on its legs, would probably surpass the six foot mark. In contrast, its partner, who had business with Harry, posed an all around average height and body type. As far as fitness went, this was one that strongly hinted it preferred the bleachers, as there was barely any muscular definition on it at all.

Other than that, the pair’s bodily design was nothing special. Moist and raw burns covered their unpalatable topography from head to toe, mapping out ice cream swirl streets hued in apricot and ripe peach, and pronouncing the sewage brown lagoons dotting them like Dalmatians. Their figures were ugly to be sure, but they weren’t the focus - their faces were.

At one side of the mouth, a necrotic, flat, fabric string vertically secured the starting base of a pattern. It was a simple motif, too: laced shoes. Criss-crossing over the lips and tunneling north and south through septic punctures ringed by crystalized pus eyelets, the strings wove impenetrable diamonds all the way to the other side, triple-knotted in gunky yellow paste, and the uneven ends left dangling. Once upon a time, these mouths must’ve had something to say, or needed to say; but none were permitted to listen. They, like all other fiends, were victims of silence.

Harry and James didn’t much care for the trendy, stringent enforcement of ‘silence is the best policy.’ A while ago, Harry, at least, began to suspect that there was significance behind each individual, unique means; granted, the allegation seemed like no-brainer. All aside, the two here helped build his case.

He’d chew on it later.

Two slanted holes pretended to be a nose, and above them sat two anomalous eyes. One visualized the world through an eternal squint, the eye semi-obscured by a grafted skin bandage. The second, in juxtaposition, told further tale of torture. Stapled to brow and cheek were the upper and lower lids, stretched beyond capacity to plate the living, twitching centerpiece netted in spider silk threads. Firetruck red painted the inverted inner lids, and by merciful grace of the monster’s exotic biology, the socket and orbit glittered from moisture that preserved its functionality.

===

RUBS NASTY LITTLE FLY HANDS

ooh, this pair - OOOH, this P A I R. i LOVE this double trouble. i was VERY excited to introduce them, because they are A TREAT. these boys are a first for GOOMT’s story for being boys, so gosh..... gosh, ho hum hrmmm hmm mmmmrmmm hrrrrmmmm, wonder what that could mean???

>;3c

but yeah, as you can see - their details are quite immense and uhhh.. all we got up there right now is zombie Orange Julius lookin’ out for his next big orange to squeeze. soon, buddy.... don’t worry, my guy; soon.....™️

aaaaand THAT is THAT ON THAT!!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR INTEREST IN MY MONSTERS OF GOOMT, AND GOOMT ITSELF 😭😭😭😭 WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE MY THANKS AND JOY (despite the 232,398 of them in GOOMT so far but eh, who’s counting)

forreal tho THANK YOU so much for your ask and your curiosity, it means the absolute world to me and i’m shoving it into my mouth and storing it in my cheeks. GOOMT is the love of my entire life and also my bane of existence and i LOVE talking, and sharing aspects of GOOMT* for all that will listen :3c

*except for lore, future planning and scenes, and things not otherwise already published because i am a VERY superstitious writer and VERY cautious of what, and to whom, i share. i won’t answer questions or talk about GOOMT’s lore and planning to anyone - not even Ren, my best friend and patient editor since ch10, who doesn’t even go here. so rest assured, it’s not (the royal) you; it’s me. 😔

AND NOW since you’ve either made it or scrolled to the end, the detailed depictions of the Memory of Harry by capitán solsikke under the cut, and their original posts from GOOMT’s blog:

POST FOUND HERE

AND BONUS ROUND: ACTOR AU

POST FOUND HERE

#silent hill #long post #goomt #ches writes #YEEHAW BABEY!!!!#THANK U TUMBLR USER HEATHERCHASESYOU YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKIN LEGEND #i s2g u make the world go 'round...... ur a total and undeniably genuine soul 😭🥚❤️❤️🙏🙏❤️🥚🥚🥚🥚🥚❤️❤️💖💖🥚🥚🥚 BLESSINGS ON U FOREVER

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