#its very rough sketches but maybe ill be done in a day or 2

[fuluv]

WAIT BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP FR I NEED TO SHOW OFF MY ATTEMPTS AT ILLUSTRATING A SCENE FROM @milkywaydrinker'S NORMA/ZAGAN FIC

it's very important that everyone reads it and leaves kudos btw

#some panels are subject to change #im not sure if i like the pacing i used.. #dead end paranormal park #norma khan #zagan #wip #my art #delete later #when i finish it #its very rough sketches but maybe ill be done in a day or 2 #hmm #speaking of wips i still need to finish that love triangle pic #dead end #de:pp

[youllallriseintheink]

Sammy and Jack. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Crisis of Faith, chapter 2

Sammy didn’t dream of Jack again until his next crisis of faith, and Sammy’s faith was very difficult to break. It had begun while Sammy, now a lost one made of fluid ink, was hiding in a wall, watching as a severely ink-infected woman raved.

“Mother, why do you punish me!?” she shouted as, with all the power left in her body, she tried to force open the padlocked doors of the women’s washroom. Her veins, prominent due to age and leanness, were a pitch-black web on her skin, and her wiry muscles had wasted away to bone.

Sammy had, on Joey’s command, overseen dozens of ink infections by now, and knew that there was nothing unusual about Emma Lamont’s case of it. Every single victim he had overseen had held some kind of delusion. Some believed that they were being poisoned by the government or their enemies, or that they were developing a mental illness. A very common one, however, was that they were receiving some sort of punishment, test, or reward from an all-powerful being- either God, or from a seemingly random entity that they’d decided to treat as one.

What if... Sammy’s beliefs were no different from this madwoman, screaming at the ghost of her mother?

Sammy moved on to check on the other infection victims. Even if Bendy wasn’t to be worshipped, the thought of ascension was all that kept him going. He sacrificed people on Joey’s command because the ink had told him to. He wrote his scriptures because he believed they were meaningful. He led the lost ones to Bendy and away from the lies their voices had told them because he truly believed that his voice had been the truth, and it seemed to give them hope, too.

Sammy passed  through the prison of ink creatures as he made his way to Joey’s sanctuary, where he now slept. A Charley was repeatedly banging its head against the bars of its cage. Lost ones wept. Ink stained every surface, making the brightly-lit room feel suffocatingly dark. Sammy was glad to phase through the wall into Joey’s sanctuary, where he could lie down on the couch and rest.

All this had to be leading to something. He couldn’t take it otherwise.

---

Sammy woke to the feeling of someone softly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes to see Jack, tears in his eyes and that disarming smile on his face.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” Jack asked gently.

Sammy, with a bit of difficulty, sat up and realized that he was in a hospital room, complete with an IV in his arm. He felt very weak, but also lighter- like a burden had been taken off of him. “Awful,” he admitted.

“Well, you want some good news? The ink is gone. All of it. You still have a lot of organ damage, but it’s nothing they can’t fix in a couple weeks. In other words, it’s over, Sammy. You’re gonna be okay.”

It took Sammy a half a minute to even process that. Once he did, though, he broke into tears of relief and hugged Jack as tightly as he could.

“Thank you. God, thank you for making me come here. You saved my life.”

Jack hugged him back. “Hey, I didn’t make you do anything. I know this took a lot of courage for you. And... I’m really glad you did it. I was so scared when I found you in your sanctuary. You were so sick... I thought I’d lose you. Sammy, I think I love you. But... we can talk about that later. Right now, you need to rest.”

“I love you, too.” Easiest words Sammy had ever said.

After a little more chatting, Jack left. Sammy wandered over to the bathroom to get a look at himself in the mirror. Admittedly, he didn’t look great. He looked like a person who’d narrowly survived a life-threatening illness, because that’s what he was. His skin was still pale and sunken, and he was still pretty gaunt, but the black veins, the bruise-like purple splotches on his skin, and even the staining in his mouth and his long, blond hair- it was gone. When Sammy woke, he would have given anything to see his human face again.

---Two years later---

As often happened whenever Sammy decided to play his banjo, a small crowd had gathered around him. Today, the crowd consisted of three lost ones, Jack (of course), a moderately ink-infected woman, and one of their last healthy men. The song Sammy was playing was "I’ll fly away.” He wasn’t singing it today, but he had sang it for his followers in the past, simply replacing the word, “God’s” with “his,” since “Bendy’s,” unfortunately, was two syllables.

“You know, it’s amazing how you can remember music like that,” said David, the only non-infected person in attendance. “I'm already forgetting the words to my favourite songs since it’s been so long since we’ve been able to just turn on a radio. How do you do it?”

Sammy would have smiled if he still had a mouth. “Well, a part of it is just natural ability,” Sammy admitted. “But. I have a secret to tell you. A part of it is faith. Faith can do great things. Collective faith in Bendy is the reason that we are the largest organization in this dimension. This village was built on faith. Faith keeps us united! Faith keeps us safe! And... faith allows me to to see into the old world every night when I close my eyes. I hope that all of you one day achieve that absolute belief that something in this world is good.”

“Heh. I’m trying. But all I have are nightmares of Bendy,” a lost one complained.

“Well, keep trying. Believe in his benevolence.” With that, Sammy got up and left for bed, patting Jack on the head on the way out. If only they knew that he used to be plagued by those same nightmares.

---

Sammy’s dream came in to form. He was on a bus, sitting next to Jack. Outside their window, snow was falling gently over a pretty,  snow-covered forest. For a while Sammy just sat in peace, holding Jack’s hand and enjoying the scenery.

“Excited to see your parents again? I know I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sammy nodded. “I can’t wait.” Sammy had always wanted to introduce Jack to his parents. He remembered that there was a strong reason why he hadn’t done it while he was alive, but he couldn’t remember what it was. “My Dad is going to love you. You’re a lot like him, you know. Do you remember why we didn’t do this sooner?”

“Because I’m a man,” Jack answered, totally calm.

“Oh!” Sammy had forgotten a lot about the outside world since his transformation, but nothing so big as the existence of homophobia. It was kind of alarming that the ink was affecting his brain that much. “God. I’m so... forgetful. I’ll just have to introduce you as my musical partner or something. It’s unconventional, but they've seen me do weirder.”

“You  know, Sammy, it’s like you got new lease on life after the ink incident. I love that. But yeah, you’re forgetting things left and right!” Jack teasingly jabbed him with his elbow.

“Yeah... Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” Jack said. Sammy worried what Jack would think, but looking into those calm brown eyes, he trusted him to not to react badly. And it would be nice to have one person he didn’t have to lie to.

“This is a dream. In the real world, I never got help for my ink infection, and now me and dozens of other people are trapped a dimension full of monsters. I’m holding a large band of people together by convincing them to collectively worship one of them. And you,” Sammy took a deep breath, “you’re there, too. But you haven’t had a coherent thought in years. I keep hoping that one day, we’ll make it out, and I’ll be able to confess to you and we’ll actually build a life like this. So... I’m forgetful because that ink is affecting my mind, and I’m happy because this world is my escape. And because you’re here, of course.” Sammy couldn’t meet Jack’s eyes. He’d probably just made himself sound like a lunatic.

Jack turned Sammy’s head to look at him. “Hey. I believe you. And... that sounds really rough. I wish I could help you.”

Sammy smiled. “Thanks. But you've been helping me all along.” Sammy laid his head on Jack’s shoulder. Maybe once the bus stopped, they’d get some hot chocolate and look at some shops before seeing his parents. It would be nice.

---

Sammy was violently shaken awake by a trio of searchers. More were behind them- as though half the village had crammed itself into his bedroom.

“Bendy is here!” one of them yelled. “What do we do?”

That was a good question. Sammy reached for his axe, but then he stopped. This was, according to the gospel he’d been feeding them, their saviour. “Go out to greet him,” Sammy instructed, trying not to sound as hesitant as he felt. “Bring him offerings of bacon soup. Bring everyone, even the Boris clones- they used to be human, too.”

The crowd of lost ones dispersed. Sammy watched with bated breath from the balcony of his lost-one village home as a massive crowd- lost ones, searchers, people both infected and healthy, and their three Boris clones- gathered along the ink river. Dozens of cans of bacon soup were placed along the river bank as an offering. Bendy stood on the other side of the river. Their drawbridge lowered, but Bendy decided instead to walk on the ink’s surface like the God they treated him as. The crowd gasped and made way. Bendy took an ink-infected man in one arm, stroked his cheek, and bit his face off.

Screams filled the air. People ran in all directions. Sammy was frozen for several seconds before he took action.

“Everyone! Run for cover! We have displeased him! I repeat, run for cover!” Sammy's booming, demonic voice covered the great distance it needed to. Upon seeing the people run and Bendy chase after them, Sammy himself slammed shut his doors and windows and listened in horror to the screams.

When it was over, all he could think to tell his people was that they needed to reconsider how they were paying tribute to the ink demon. If they changed their methods just a little, then the demon would be helpful instead of violent, and they would be freed.

To Sammy’s mixed relief, they actually believed it.

---

eleven years went by. Within the first three, every single flesh-and-blood person in the sketch dimension was infected, killed, or both, and became a lost one.

Their minds were rotting. Increasing numbers of lost ones struggled to remember anything about themselves or the outside world. Wandering aimlessly or resting in ink puddles, they were helpless as zombies.

But not Sammy. Sammy remained- comparatively, at least- as sharp as a whip, and told the lost ones tales so vivid about the outside world that they could almost taste its brilliance and freedom. Sammy only wished that Jack- the real Jack- could understand any of it.

There was nothing to do about that but what Sammy had been doing all along: keep the community together. Keep the lost ones moralized and sane. Figuratively and literally dream of a  better world. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sammy didn’t want to forget a thing about the real world, but little pieces had fallen away, bit by bit. In his dreams, there were now places he couldn’t visit because he didn’t remember what they were like. His reflection in the mirror had become a human-shaped blur as he forgot his appearance. The same thing had happened to the faces of people he used to remember clear as day. One day, he would forget it all, too- just as everyone else had.

It was hard to keep hope.

One of Sammy’s dreams found him walking down a beach with Jack at his side. Sammy knew that the two of them had relocated at some point, but he didn’t know to where. His American geography was rather fuzzy at this point.

“Can I vent to you about the other world?” Sammy asked.

“Sure,” Jack said. Jack was one thing that Sammy’s memory hadn’t gone fuzzy on. Sammy still remembered every soft curve of his face, every freckle, every detail. His dark brown hair was starting to grey, but not because Sammy remembered him that way- it had been many years, and growing old together was part of the fantasy.

“Bendy came to the village again today. He killed a few lost ones and then left. People are losing faith in me and I don’t know how to get it back. And to make matters worse, a false prophet is going around saying we should worship the angel instead! She’d enslave us if we did that!" Sammy chucked a baseball-sized rock into the water, then composed himself a bit. “And you know, we’re all going to be mindless drones eventually. I’m thinking... maybe I won’t fight the false prophet. I could leave the village, hide in a vent, and spend as little time awake as possible. Ink creatures can sleep for days, you know. What do say? Can we stay like this forever? Enjoy this world until I lose my mind like all the rest?” Sammy took Jack’s hands and looked desperately into his eyes.

Jack hesitated, but by the look on his face, Sammy already knew what his answer would be. “I’m sorry. You know I have to say no. The lost ones need you.”

“But why am I the one who has to stay strong for them? I’m sick of it.”

“Because you’re the one who can. I know it isn’t fair, but you’re the reason they’ve been protecting each other. And it sounds like if you leave them now, they’ll throw themselves at Alice. Do it for them. And if you can’t bring yourself to care about them... do it for me. The real me. You still love him, right?”

“Of course...” Sammy probably would have done this sooner if he didn’t care about the well-being of his searcher friend.

Jack put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “I don’t know how, but you’ll get out some day. And in the meantime, I’m here.”

Sammy tried to think of some objection, but he couldn’t. He muttered a “thanks” and kept walking along the beach. Jack followed. It was, if nothing else, a beautiful night, and he might as well enjoy it.

“Jack... tell me what I look like. I don’t care that it’ll just be something you made up. Tell me anyhow.”

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Jack Fain #sammy lawrence #sammy x jack #my fanfiction #threadedsafetypin #thanks for the ask

[ankhisms]

the always wonderful shelley @shanheling tagged me to do this thank u so much!! i think that everyone i wanted to tag has already been tagged to do this but if you feel like doing this feel free to consider urself tagged by me!! im putting this under a readmore bc its long and i ramble a lot

the piece i was tagged to explain my process on is this oc piece! unfortunately i have a habit of deleting my original clip studio file once ive finished my art and saved it as a new png file, so i dont have the file to show the sketch and different stages of this piece. but I still can go through my general process and talk about how i did that piece!

1. planning

honestly i think about the art that i want to do a lot, and in this last year or so ive thought about the art i want to do more than ive been able to actually create and finish that art that i want to do. for my planning i tend to do a lot of different thumbnail sketches for the art im thinking of

these are some examples of thumbnails, a lot of times ill do thumbnails just on pencil and paper and with some of these theyre done quickly with my fingers on my phone note function on a day where i was feeling too bad to get up and draw on paper but still wanted to get the thumbnail ideas down. two of these are for the same songxiao piece that i still havent finished and i have more thumbnails digitally on clip studio for the same piece, i do a lot more thumbnails when a piece isnt working the way i want it to and theres times where ill completely scratch a thumbnail or a sketch and start over in order to do more thumbnails because i dont feel happy with some aspect of it.

two of these are small gouche painting thumbnails for two pieces i did maybe a month or so ago, i did the thumbnails and then tried to expand on them digitally and im wanting to do more thumbnail paintings like this in the future because it was fun

for the piece of my oc trio it was based off a series of ask prompts i got for a few different outfit prompt memes i had reblogged, so i based their outfits on the ones in the meme. when im drawing figures i tend to try and get the movement down in the poses when im sketching, i do several rough sketches of the pose before beginning to start setting down lines (if im doing lineart at all because sometimes i dont like doing lineart and do a more lineless painting kind of style). i really try to get my art to convey some kind of emotion, in the oc piece i wanted it to feel fun and like youre seeing three best friends while theyre out on the town having a fun night

2. creating

this is the only real example i have of a piece in the middle of being filled in and created, this piece is one that im really not very happy with & have had lying around for a while and ill probably scrap it and try to come at it from a different perspective at some point. but anyway it still shows what i do, i lay down a kind of neutral gray color underneath my final sketch/lineart if im doing lineart in that piece and then i start picking out the colors that i want for the piece and kind of setting out a pallette for myself. i dont do this color pallette thing 100% of the time but i do it really often, especially if im working on a commission or a larger piece where i know theres going to be a lot of colors or if its a piece where im not sure exactly what color scheme i want so laying out the colors together helps me kind of decide what kind of scheme i want. i am sooooo picky about my colors in my art i am genuinely obsessed with colors in art and there are times where i really have to stop myself from working on something forever just constantly adding more colors or putting little tiny changes and gradients in the colors.

after ive got the colors i want down i tend to try and block out parts of the piece with the base color for that section, and then i start to paint with the colors that i want to go on top of that base color from there.

once im satisfied with the colors/shading/rendering and everything ill go back and look over things and will fix things that look off or sometimes completely redo segments if they dont look right to me. when i was younger and mainly doing digital art using my phone and my fingers i would use a lot of filters and overlays on top of my art once i was done, and honestly im glad to not be doing that anymore because i dont think it made my art look any better. i do color adjustments and sometimes will put on a color overlay or a layer to emphasize the shadows and the light in the piece, but i try to keep those layers to a minimum and like i said before i have a tendency to obsess over the colors and ill spend a good amount of time in the color adjustment tool of clip studio and then ill just decide "actually it looks fine as it is" so yeah!

3. posting

i feel like i dont have a lot to say here gbfm i mean i honestly have a lot of thoughts about the relationship between artists and social media and how social media changes our views on art including our own art and how we can feel like we constantly need to be posting new art and just become content machines churning out new stuff. but ill save that rant for another time. i used to be really concerned about how many notes my art would get when i was younger, and i dont at all blame anyone who still is very concerned about that bc it sucks when u work hard on something youve created and then you dont get a lot of recognition for it, but honestly within the last two years or so i feel like ive begun to have a lot healthier relationship with posting my art. i really just post my art on my art blog, reblog it to my main blog, and then thats that yknow! i do really appreciate any and all support people give me, it means the world to me, but for me having the mentality where i dont need to post all the art i make and i dont need to be posting every day or every week or every month even has been a lot healthier for me because then im not constantly asking myself why didnt this get notes is my art awful??? and yeah i just kind of post it and my brain goes okay were done with that art we gotta make more

ive honestly been struggling a lot with art thru the pandemic and if youre reading this and have been struggling with creating in any way recently or even before the pandemic, please know theres no shame in having trouble creating and it doesnt make you bad at whatever it is u create!

thank you for reading this, feel free to consider urself tagged by me again if u want to do this!! love u all

#showyourprocess #beep beep its a txt

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #20)

01/07/88  11:56 PM

Hey.

That first night was rough.

The following six would not be much better.

Honestly, most of my time spent in the dump has excused itself from my memory, on account of being so profoundly unremarkable and entirely unpleasant. I’m pretty sure I know what I did, but a large sum of the details are basically gone. Thankfully, none of it’s all that important, but I still feel like I should write down what I can recall. It’s kind of weird -- it feels like the more I write, the more I remember. Maybe once all’s said and done, I should try keeping a journal or some corny crap like that. A real one.

‘Dunno if I could stay regular on it without the added benefit of pretending to talk to you.

Anyway. Seven-ish days, I stayed there, and each day, relations with Wreck-it stayed just as strained, clipped, and awkward as the day before. I found out on the first morning that he had a strike system in mind -- I break three rules, that’s three strikes, that’s my ass hitting the road. Of course, I found out about this shortly after making my first strike. Literally seconds into the first day. 

I hadn’t slept at all, being too sick and anxious and plagued by a snoring gorilla. So, when he woke up, before he could even stand, he was greeted by a violation of Rule #2:

“Hey, Maestro, what’s it like havin’ an entire brass section lodged in your nose?”

Then he, let’s say, ‘explained’ that I’d just struck one of three.

The second strike was not long for this world, either. Just hours later, I’d break Rule #5, completely by accident.

Business was pretty slow that day, being so early in the School Year (I heard some things here and there about so-and-so’s throwing First Day of School parties, but there was no festival this year -- not in the climate for it, I guess). Fix-it had a fair amount of free time between gamers, and made the incredibly ill-advised decision to try to talk to me. I was curled up on my pillows trying very hard to sleep when I heard him climbing up the bricks, calling out cautiously, “Mavy? Are you here?”

I didn’t say anything. I just grabbed a brick and tossed it in the direction of his voice. I then heard a yelp, a handful of Nicelander gasps, those tumbling sound effects, and that morbid little funeral drone. I didn’t expect to actually hit him, let alone K.O. him. He’s so damn easy to K.O., it’s like cracking an egg.

Regardless of it being an accident, regardless of the fact that Fix-it was assuring everyone he was fit as a fiddle seconds later, regardless of the fact that Wreck-it wasn’t even in the dump at the time, but watching from the roof of Niceland, it was a strike. So I had one left until I was out on my ass. I really had to pull it together in that regard. And I did, sort of.

I spent each day more or less the same: Looking for distractions that didn’t break any rules, puking, and trying to sleep.

I wandered around when I could. I took sporadic catnaps. I took very, very cold baths in the river, which I did not miss doing at all, but I certainly couldn’t use the showers in your game anymore. I drew sketches of the gamers’ faces as they played. I spent lots of time hugging a bucket. I very quietly played my guitar, more for the motion than the music. I snuck into the building from behind and raided apartments during gameplay, stockpiling food and water as my appetite slowly came back. It was all repetitive, futile, and not nearly enough to distract me the way I needed. I wanted buffs so, so bad. Even a drink. But for the life of me, I could not leave the game.

I tried many times, often several times in a day. I’d go stand at our dinky little train station, staring at the dinky little train I’d have to use as a newfound ground-dweller, and shiver. I’d pace. I’d kick the train, usually. It was so demeaning and frustrating. Nobody can keep me locked up. Yet there I was, too afraid to leave my own Dev-damned game out of fear that I’d be murdered. That had to be exactly what my attacker wanted me to feel. Just crippling, paralyzing fear. She may not have killed me, but maybe she was counting on other ways to make me disappear. And there I was, giving her what she wanted.

Wreck-it, on the other hand, left the game nightly to go to Tapper’s, right after closing. He’d check in with me beforehand, and it’d be the same each time.

He’d say, “Hey. Holdin’ up okay?”

I’d say, “Yup.”

He’d say, “Think you might leave soon?”

I’d say, “Hopefully.”

He’d say, “I’m going to Tapper’s, if you’re interested.”

I’d say, “No, thanks.”

End scene.

Word for word, the same every night. Those were really our only brief windows of communication, right up until the fifth night, after he had come back from Tapper’s and settled in. 

The withdrawals had cleared up by then, but, needless to say, I still didn’t feel too good. I’d been stuck in there for nearly a week, feeling more broken and pathetic than I’d ever felt in my life. Everything was weighing down so, so hard, it was like I could barely breathe. Being unable to find you, nearly being murdered, being villainized, practically losing my brush -- it all had me cornered. There was nowhere to run. I was wishing so deeply for a way out. So, like I’ve done countless times before, I stared out into the arcade through the screen, trying to imagine a reality where I could break out and leave all of this behind.

The thing is, though, I’d only ever dreamed of that when no one else was around. This time, I was peering over the mound of bricks that I’d been sleeping behind, barely ten feet from Wreck-it’s stump. I was lying there for Devs know how long before, completely by accident, a question slipped from my mouth.

“What do you think it’s like out there?”

Wreck-it jumped. “Huh?”

I jumped. “What?”

“What’d you say?”

I felt my face burn up. I couldn’t have that conversation, not with him. I slipped back down the bricks to my privacy, and instinctively grabbed my guitar. “Forget it. Doesn’t matter.”

Wreck-it didn’t press, but I didn’t expect him to. It was the heavy, awkward silence after that I was worried about, so, without a second thought, I started playing my guitar. I’d played quietly while Wreck-it was around a few times before, and he didn’t seem to mind. Up until that point, though, I’d been silent on the vocals, because… y’know, I guess I just didn’t feel much like singing since you’d left. But in my panic, I started singing the first thing that popped into my head. It was this song I’d started writing about a concrete world and a neon storm. It wasn’t done. I’d forgotten most of it. It was a freakin’ mess -- eventually, I just gave up. I sighed and started plucking no tune in particular. Me and my unpredictable mouth.

That’s when Wreck-it piped in again, casually.

“Was that a new one?”

I cringed. “Yeah. It’s... not done.”

He paused. “It was nice. When it’s done, you should play it at Tapper’s.” He paused again. “...Y’know, after… things die down a bit.”

“...Yeah, right. As if I’ll ever play there again. Certainly not at Qix, either.”

“No?”

“No. Sprites at Qix are there for a good time, and I’m not super conducive to those anymore, so… even if it ever opens up again, I’m off the setlist.”

Qix had, indeed, been barred from the public not too long after the incident. It had become even more of a hotspot for buff use and dealing. Hardly stopped users and dealers from finding new places for it, but, still, the arcade lost its one and only nightclub. So that was grand.

“And, as for Tapper, I kinda doubt he wants the arcade’s most hated sprite playing at his bar.”

“Tapper still likes you,” he said. “I mean, he even talked about you the other night, said he’d run into you at the memorial. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

It was true -- I had met Tapper briefly at the memorial, and I remembered that he said that I was always welcome in his game if I needed company. It really was a sweet thing, looking back. But I didn’t take him seriously at the time, ‘cause I still thought it was a big joke. And after that, I definitely made him regret his offer. All I’d done at Tapper’s was drink myself violent and end up throwing punches and breaking glass. I was certain that he’d changed his mind and started hating me like everyone else. That thought really stung.

I waited, for a moment. “...What did you tell him?”

“I just told him I wouldn’t know.”

“Good,” I nodded, “good.”

We were both quiet for a long while, before words slipped out of me again. “I’m gonna miss that bar.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… whether Tapper likes me or not, I’m… bad for business, now. I could draw sprites in with my music, before, but, now… Even if he says I’m welcome there, I’m not really. It’s not entirely up to him.” I sighed, and felt my voice drop so low, it practically dragged. “I’m not welcome anywhere, anymore, so… that’s great.”

“Nowhere at all?”

I said, “Nope. Didn’t you say yourself that I’m trouble? Big trouble? Everyone seems to think that. Bigger trouble than anyone can deal with nowadays.”

Once again, we were both silent for a moment. I’d stopped playing, reduced to flicking one string with my thumb, just enough to hear it.

I heard Wreck-it take a deep breath behind me. He paused, and then, in a slow, awkward voice, said, “Well… Yeah, maybe, but… You don’t scare me, kid.”

I wished that could have made me feel better. It was, objectively, a pretty decent thing to say, and another sprite probably would have been very comforted by the chance of an ally in this mess, or at the very least, someone with something resembling loyalty. But it just made me feel worse. I felt too smart to believe any of that crap could last. He didn’t know it yet, but he’d change his mind. I’d always figured that sooner or later, everyone would decide I’m too much. That was just the way of things. 

However, given my bleak circumstances, I had little choice but to accept his… tolerance while it lasted. Having someone on my side, even for just a little while, seemed like it could have proven helpful.

So, after a long, sullen silence, I just went back to plucking idly on my guitar. “Good to know you’re not as dumb as you look, then.”

His breath caught in disbelief for a second, before he dropped right back into growling, “Name-calling. Watch it.”

“It was a compliment, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, a super backhanded one.”

I closed my eyes, trying to play myself to sleep. “Just take it, pal. I don’t got that many kind words to share, so I gotta ration them out wisely.”

He grumbled. “You would call that kind.”

“I do. Now, can we cut the yammerin’ and sleep?”

“Fine. Yeesh.”

He slept. I didn’t. Not ‘til midday the following day, anyway. I fell asleep during gameplay hours, and woke up just after closing when Wreck-it stomped his big ol’ stumps up the bricks. We had the usual pre-Tapper’s exchange, ending, of course, with me refusing his offer to come along. I was tired as hell, and I still wasn’t ready to go out there.

But, as I quickly discovered, it didn’t matter if I was ready or not.

I’d been in a fitful sleep for what must have been barely half an hour when Wreck-it’s feet woke me up again. This time, he came around behind my bricky knoll to stand next to me, towering with this look on his face that I didn’t like at all.

He said, “Hey kid, guess what.”

“I’m being evicted?”

“No,” he grinned in a way I couldn’t read -- don’t really see him smile that often, honestly, “but you are leaving. You’re going to Tapper’s!”

I was not following. “Uh… ‘kay, you do know that I said ‘no thanks’, right? That’s a thing you remember?”

“Yup, yup, I do. But listen to this -- I talked to Tapper for you, and all that stuff you said about him hating you or -- or, y’know, all that --” he shook his head, “-- not true. He misses you, kid. You gotta get out there and show him you’re alive.”

I felt my face burn up.

“You-- You--” I sprung to my feet, “You TOLD HIM I’M STAYING WITH YOU!?”

He put his hands on his hips nonchalantly. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

“HOW-- WHEN I SPECIFICALLY SAID NOT TO?! THAT WAS RULE NUMBER ONE!!”

“Ah, ah,” he pointed, “polite request number one, and, request denied.”

I’d have throttled his fat neck if my fingers could fit around it.

“WHY’D I WASTE MY TIME BEING POLITE, THEN, LARD-FACE!?”

He seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m gonna let that one slide, because you can bellyache all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been in here way, way too long, kid.”

“QUIT CALLING ME KID! I’M GONNA LEAVE, OKAY! SOON! ON MY OWN!”

“Uh huh, I’m sure you were going to,” he nodded in a condescending sort of way that made me want to hurl a brick between his eyes, “but now you get to leave with me, right now.”

“NO, I DON’T!”

“You said you’re here ‘cause you had nowhere else to go, right? Well, now you’ve got somewhere else to go, so get up off my bricks, and come go to the bar like I know you’ve been dying to do all week.”

He wasn’t wrong. But I was so angry. And I was still so scared.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO, AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”

His eyebrows raised for a second, and he shrugged. “Alright, I guess we’re doing this.”

Then the colossal bastard grabbed me. Me, as in, my entire body, in one of his huge, meaty paddles he calls hands. It’s not that he’s never done that before, but it’s always been to throw me, and lasted only a second. This time, he started walking down the bricks, with the clear intention of just carrying me the entire way to Tapper’s. His code is still less dense than that of Fix-it, but that prolonged contact still made my binary crawl. Devs, did it crawl.

So, after a quick burst of threats and shrieking, I conceded. I agreed to go with him if he would just put me the hell down. He dropped me, I ran back to grab my book bag, and we trudged to the train. The way he walked behind me made me feel like he was marching me to some grim fate. Some grim, unnatural, unspeakably awkward fate.

As much as I lamented being reduced to riding the train like a chump, seeing the way his massive ass just barely fit into one of the cars was pretty rewarding.

Once we started rolling, he told me, “You know it’ll do you good to get out. You’re just not coded for life in a box, kid.”

I don’t remember if I sighed or gave the flattest laugh of my life. “Yeah, tell that to the Devs. And for cuss’ sake, quit calling me kid.”

In all truthfulness, as scared as I was, I really was so relieved at a chance to finally leave. And as much as I hated not being able to do it on my own, I was, admittedly, glad to have a second pair of eyes. It was probably a pretty decent thing of him to do, scouting out a safe place for me to go. Even if I really, really didn’t want or ask for it.

But I’m still pissed at him for denying my incredibly polite request.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #turbo #original character #homesick

[kiss-me-kira]

2 Encounter w/ Kira

just second meeting nothing really exciting

cut for length 

The beach was lovely today. The Morioh sun was warm and the breeze was brisk. Maybe a little too swift because it kept blowing my hair in my face, but all in all it was very enjoyable. I had found a nice little cove downhill from some wild looking orchard. It was quiet and peaceful, so I brought out my sketchbook and some books to read. 

My sketchbook wasn’t working well with me, the pages were too big and kept swallowing up my doodles. So I switched to my pocket sketchbook and was working on a rough sketch of the sea and horizon line when my hands refused to do what I told them. So I took a pause and decided to rest my eyes. I laid back in the sand and pulled my arm across my eyes to block out the sun for just a few minutes. 

“This is private property you know.” I shot up, there was someone immediately behind me. I jumped when there wasn’t anyone there, but I heard rustling in  the trees so I looked a bit up and there he was. 

“I-Im so sorry is this your house?” He looked so familiar but I couldn't quite remember who he was. Surely I wouldn't forget such a handsome face. 

He exhaled sharply, as if that was his version of a laugh, and hopped down from the orchard’s embankment down onto the beach just a few steps away from me. Something told me he was so familiar, but it was on the tip of my tongue, as if he had just walked out from a dream. 

“No, it's not mine. But you shouldn’t be here.” His face showed no effect, but his voice seemed jovial? Was he teasing me? Was this some sort of inside joke I should remember? 

“Im sorry, I'll leave right now.” I gathered my things, not like I had many of them, but when I saw the book I remembered. He was like a dream, or at least I had thought he was at the time, but he was Dr. Holly Joestar-Kira’s son. 

“You’re Kira.” that came out sounding more like an accusation than I intended but it served its purpose. 

“Kira Yoshikage. And you are?” He extended his hand, his long delicate fingers hanging there waiting for mine. Oh god I hope he didn't see me staring, I scurried to move my things to my left arm and meet his hand in a shake. 

“Constantin. Nice to actually meet you.” Because coming into my room when I was fairly certain you were a fever dream really doesn't count.

 His skin was so soft, but his handshake was firm. I couldn't help but think of all the things he could do with those hands. Maybe he was a violinist, or a pianist, or perhaps a painter or sketcher. Ugh I bet those hands would feel even better under my dress or around my neck… Oh god that is not a good road to go down when he's right in front of you Constantin. 

In an ill attempt to quash those thoughts I nodded to him and turned to go back the way I came this was about as good a time as any to duck out. Which i probably should have done as soon as he mentioned that I was trespassing on private property. 

I turned and started walking down the beach towards the way I came. 

“Wrong way.” I turned around to see him standing there in an odd little pose with his hips cocked to the side and his arms crossed. 

“It's the way I came.” No response. 

“Well then show me the proper way.” If he was going to be short and curt I could easily do the same. He spun on his heel and started walking away. I guess I'm supposed to follow him? Of course the beautiful man who fell from the sky would not be talkative. There was no way I could completely hold a conversation on my own, at best I can reflect the energy that the other person puts in and he was not doing much of anything. 

“Like the Roman Emperor?” He asked, quirking up his eyebrow. Well that was surprising. 

“Yes yes, the one who moved the capital to Byzantium and converted to Chirstianity. My family is Italian and big on history.” It was usual to have this conversation with new people. It's not exactly a common name so I figure i have to justify it a bit. 

“It's an interesting name.” Was apparently all he could think of as a response. 

“Hm so I’ve heard.” Many times. God im so fucking awkward what the hell am I supposed to talk about when Im being escorted off of someone elese’s property? 

Kira led me down the beach for a few more meters then gestured up a small slope. I scrambled to the top, with him a few steps behind me, and tried to regain my bearings. Sure this was only a few hundred meters down the shore from where I was but nothing looked familiar. I didn’t even see a road nearby, just a tree leaning dangerously over the wall eyes. I shuddered remembering fainting there a few days ago. Drat, I would have to ask him for directions. I steeled myself up, ready to be met with a cold and partial response but he spoke first. 

“What do you know of Morioh?” What an odd way of phrasing a question. Was he trying to offer me directions? 

“I’ve been here about a week, so all I know is my hotel in the city center, the beach where I just was, the Wall Eyes and the hospital.” Hopefully 

“Which way is the hospital.” The way he phrased it was more like command than a question. And why the fuck was he asking me he lived here. Ugh he's testing me, that condescending little jerk. I flexed my hands so I did not clench them in fists, it was a good thing I had a pretty decent internal GPS. Yeah there was that one time I convinced my family I knew my way around Rome because I studied Latin for 6 years, but as it turned out a lot had changed from the 2000 year old maps I knew. 

“That way,” I pointed confidently over his shoulder and to the left. I was pretty sure that was where I would have ended up if I had left the beach the other way. 

“No.” He said flippantly, as if he’s disappointed I didn’t know better. I stood there like an enraged dead fish, glaring with my mouth hanging open. He was being cold and dismissive yet I still wanted to show off. I cracked the knuckles in my right hand and took a deep breath in I can be a nice person. 

“Would you mind showing me the way?” I asked in my best imitation of a regularly pleasant person. 

Kira blinked in a way that looked affirmative, or I was imagining things, so I followed as he turned around to walk around the wall eyes.

Once I stopped being as embarrassed and afronted, it was a nice walk. We were still close enough to the beach to feel the breeze on my face, and every so often I caught a glimpse of Kira batting his hair out from his eyes. Which as much as I hated to say it, was pretty cute. I couldn't help but want to reach out and brush it out of his face for him. But that would be quite rude and creepy, so I restrained myself. Of course I stole some other glances at him. He walked very purposefully, each step was assured, and he kept a nice rhythmic pace too. 

I cleared my throat, it had been silent for a long time, and now that i was actually calm I didn't want to come off as rude. He had been kind in his own weird little way. 

“Do you live around here?” Hopefully that was friendly and not ‘I'm going to stalk you’... 

“I live by the harbor.” He had slowed a little to match my pace. That was considerate, I think. 

“Ah yes I know where that is.” Shit that was too sarcastic. 

“You do?” He quirked an eyebrow up. 

“No of course not, I already told you all the places I know.” I forced a smile, and an awkward laugh. Please think this was a joke. 

A noise, he madea  weird noise, like a sharp exhale without moving his face.

“Guess you did.” That was a laugh? Maybe? 

“But that does explain-” I gestured loosely to his outfit, “this.” 

“How so?” His voice was lighter, and I could almost hear a smirk in it. But his face still showed no effect. He must be warming up to me.

“You work there, no? On a ship?” 

“Yes,” he looked impressed and I hated how that made me excited, “I do. How did you know?” He couldn't seriously be asking me that right? He was dressed like a 1940’s sailor. He had to know that. 

“Well you either work on a ship or you just learned the yablochko…” I nervously laughed again. Everything is fine. 

“I'm a surgeon.” He said in the lightest tone I’d heard him use yet. But wait, that didn't quite make sense...

“Oh-” 

“On cargo ships.” He clarified.

“Ah…” so he wasn't mocking me, “Oh that's very interesting actually.”  It was so interesting that apparently I hadn’t realized we had made it back into the city. Or the outskirts of it at least. It wasn’t like we had been talking for long, or about much, there was just something about him that stole all my attention. 

But now that I recognized where we were a little, I let my eyes stray. I think he said something, but everything was drowned out by a literal monster in the street in front of us. 

I grabbed Kira by the arm, not so gently jerking him back to keep from walking closer to that thing. It was pink and tall, with odd pointed ears and what looked like armored plating. No one else was paying it any mind on the sidewalk, but I felt my nails digging into his arm and didn't think I remembered how to breathe. 

He was very calm when it turned around to look at us. Kira glanced a few times between me and whatever the hell that was before speaking. 

“Ah, so you can see it now.”

#kiracon #Kira-Con #selfship #Kira8

[hangonimevolving]

Craft Therapy

Between my dad’s illness, my uncle’s death, and some other random adulting I’ve had to do, the last few weeks have brought much stress, anxiety, grief and loss.  But curiously, they’ve brought great pleasure too.  Different people have different responses to crises.  I have come to recognize that my natural crisis response is to be flooded with a ton of creative energy, and a strong impulse to put things in order, plan, organize, execute, and analyze.  I also feel this almost manic urge to make myself useful to those who need help, and to be a source of comfort, calm, and assistance to those whose grief response is to fall apart, curl up, and have limited function.  There are probably some drawbacks to my way of handling grief - but at least for this phase of life, I’ve focused on using my natural response as an asset, or at least as a productive impulse, to tackle some events that were both planned and unplanned in our lives.

My dad’s whole ordeal took us from late August through mid-September.  I had been brainstorming and contemplating the kids’ Halloween costumes and my annual Trunk or Treat theme for weeks at that point, but once I returned from NOLA following Dad’s surgery, I knew it was time to spring into action.  The kids had selected their costumes way back over the summer, and amazingly they hadn’t deviated from their original ideas.  Vev wanted to be a blue whale, and Dey had stated a wish to be a lobster.  So it was clear to me that our family appeared to be gravitating towards ocean life as a costume theme this year.  Therefore, I decided my Trunk or Treat theme would reflect this preoccupation, and I titled our trunk “Discover the Sea!”.  

Then it came time to start costume planning and construction.  This took the necessary trips to Joann’s, to procure fabric and supplies....

... then a pattern was sketched out for the whale costume, using brown packing paper salvaged from an Amazon Prime shipping box.

Fabric was cut, pieced, and then sewn together...

Then began the process of strategizing batting and foam.

Flippers were created....

... and then inner lining fabric was procured, cut, and sewn, to make the two sides of the whale.  Each side became like a “pillowcase,” into which the foam could be inserted.

Oh, and prior to foam going in - I top-stitched some lines by hand, using embroider floss, to make the stripes and striations on the whale’s underbelly, similar to what a blue whale has.

*This project entailed WAY more hand-sewing than I usually do!  It was quite an education.  My thumbs still ache sometimes, weeks later, when I think about it!

Speaking of hand-sewing - it was time to make eyes for the whale.  I purchased a few sets of doll eyes from Amazon, and used these along with a hot glue gun, fabric, batting, and foam balls, to create a set of realistic (but maybe sorta creepy) eyes for the whale.  

Hand-sewing those eyes, with the eyelids, and then sewing them onto the whale, were both significant undertakings.  I’m surprised at myself!  

I didn’t photograph this next process very well, which is a shame, because it was also a new and challenging undertaking.  But for these costumes, I decided to work with craft wire for the first time.  I was using batting and foam to give the costumes three-dimensionality and texture, but I was concerned about the shape, and ensuring that certain parts of the costumes - specifically, the tails, for both whale and lobster - would be positionable in a cute way that would help people recognize what time of animals they were.  So, I bought this 3 mm craft wire off of Amazon:

And using a pair of wire cutters/pliers that I owned, I go to work making an “endoskeleton” for my whale, that involved two big oval “ribs” in the sides of the whale for support, that each fed into the fins of the tail to help them stay upright and give them shape.  After feeding the wires through the body and tail, I stuffed the tail full of foam and batting, then hand sewed it to the whale body.  I sewed on nylon webbing for straps, and the end result looked like this.

Not bad, eh?  

Then it was time to get cracking on the lobster costume.  Funny - for frame of reference with time, I started the whale on October 3, and finished on October 22.  Obviously, there were many disruptions to my work schedule in that time, including not one, but two trips to New Orleans, and a boatload of grieving.  But the result was, I had only about a week to get the lobster costume done.  So I was motivated.

Cutting began:

Then the batting and backing stages were undertaken, to make a simple apron of sorts:

Then came the creation of legs, which took WAYYY longer and was WAAAYYY harder than I thought it would be!  Using both sewing techniques to create casings, and the craft wire idea I’d had from before, I managed to make 8 of these bad boys in the end.  It was painful, though.

The result were eight tapered, but bendable/shapable legs.  These legs would need to be attached to the inner surface of the apron, and I confess I probably didn’t do as elegant a job of this as I could have - specifically, I could have made the legs, then sandwiched them between my apron layers, but I didn’t - I ended up hand-stitching them to the inside layer, which is considerably less professional, but oh well.  

Then I decided to create a hood for the costume, upon which eyes and antennae would be fitted.  This was yet another new venture for me; I’d never made a hooded garment before (I’ve hardly ever sewn garments in the first place).  I used a double layer of heavy-duty fusible interfacing to give the hood some stiffness and structure, and also to bear the weight of the eyes, which I constructed in a similar fashion to the whale eyes.  

I used a braided triple-strand of red pipe cleaners as the antennae, and created a makeshift grommet to hold them in place on the hood through a reinforced hole that I made with my KAM snap awl.  The result:

Then came the construction of the lobster tail.  I was actually pretty pleased with how this came out.  I made a fatter, puffier, and segmented version of the “pillowcase” using a pattern for a lobster tail that I sketched out on packing paper again.  I also made a pattern for the final “fan” of the tail, and used fabric with several layers of craft interfacing to make that the appropriate texture and stiffness.  

Like with the whale tail, I gave the lobster tail a craft wire “endoskeleton” that coudl be bent into an optimal curled shape if desired.  I didn’t bend either costume too much prior to the day of Halloween, because I didn’t want the wire to get too soft - but on the day of, I took the chance and went for it, and the results were awesome!  

An especially fun detail with this costume is, I was using a shiny stretch material for the red portions, as well as a matte jersey red fabric, just for visual interest - but for certain areas (the underbelly of the lobster, the underside of the tail, etc.), I had this synthetic, scaly, faux crocodile-esque peach fabric that really looked cool.  

Anyway, here’s the tail:

Oh - and the lobster tail was detachable.  I used KAM snaps and my snap press to make some sockets on the apron, and studs on the tail, so that it could be removed.  Reason?  There is NO way Dey could sit in this costume at school with the tail on :)  So I had to come up with a creative solution so that his entire school day, he wouldn’t have to be standing up like a horse!

The final stage of this costume was to make lobster claws, or “snappers,” as Dey called them.  I knew he’d be irritated if they went over his whole hand, like a mitten, so I did some strategizing and came up with a way for him to wear them on the backs of his hands, while keeping his hands free.

And presto!  I was done!  Here are some “day of” pictures.  I splurged and ordered both kids solid color t-shirts and bottoms from Primary, to be worn under the costumes:

I had an internal deadline for completion of the lobster costume as October 27, which would have given me a relaxed three days to work on my Trunk or Treat trunk and really enjoy the process.  

HA.  

Yeah, that deadline came, and it %^ing went.  Fast-forward to me scrambling to finish the lobster costume on October 28th, then 29th, amidst numerous technical difficulties, jammed bobbins, and cursing while sitting at my sewing machine.  This was my view all day, everyday, in the week prior to Halloween:

(feeling murderous)

I managed to do a little bit of detail work on my Trunk here and there during breaks from sewing, but the majority of the trunk was put together on October 30th (and the wee hours of October 31st).  The stages of preparation for my “Discover the Sea” trunk were as follows.

1.  Acquire materials.  Most of what I used for this trunk was salvaged from crap I had at home, or purchased at my local Dollar Tree.  I spent $44 at Dollar Tree, which in my book is kind of like saying I spent $600 in one shot at the grocery store :)  Its kind of a lot of money to spend at a store where everything is a dollar.

If you’re wondering - this is what $44 of goods looks like in the Dollar Tree checkout line:

A few things were bought at Walmart, and I did purchase a can of spray foam insulation from Home Depot.  The total expenses on this trunk were my most to date of any trunk I’ve designed: about $75.  Again, this is probably the last year I’ll ever do this (sniff) so I decided to go out with a bang.

2.  I had a rough vision of my trunk from the get go - I wanted a blue background, with a number of coral reefs in the foreground, and some strands of seaweed framing it all.  I wanted a number of schools of colorful fish swimming about the coral, too.  My vision of coral reefs included a brain coral, and I had a random idea about how to make one.  I was worried that in case it didn't work out, I’d need time to either brainstorm another method, or time to adjust to my vision without the brain coral - so the creation of the brain coral was one of the first things I did.

Ingredients for a brain coral:  dollar store rubber ball, tube of inexpensive silicone caulking from Walmart or Home Depot.  A box or something to hold the ball steady while you’re working.  And down the line - a can of spray paint in a coral reef-y color of your choice.

After making my brain designs on the ball, I knew it would need to cure at least 24 hours before painting - so I set to making the next most time-consuming element of the trunk: the fish.  Using some fish shape templates that I found for free on google and printed, and a stack of craft foam in different colors, a pack of adhesive google eyes and a little tub full of leftover fabric paint from some bygone project, I made about 5-6 long strands of 5-6 fish each.  I had angelfish, parrotfish, seahorse, jellyfish, and sea turtles of various sizes and color schemes.  After cutting out, painting, and allowing these items to dry, I stuck them onto lengths of invisible fishing line (ha! the irony) to be used in the trunk.

3.  Then it came time to assemble some of the coral reefs.

This started with the preparation of several cardboard boxes I’d been saving for the occasion (courtesy of Amazon Prime deliveries).  I filled each box partway with some cheap gravel from Home Depot, so that they’d be weighed down a little and not blow over in the wind...(messy work)

Then I taped the boxes shut, and on some, hot-glued dollar store floral foam on top in strategic places:

covered them with either brown packaging paper, or some gold glittery wrapping paper from the dollar store.

Then came making the coral.  Thanks to a number of awesome tutorials on Pinterest and Youtube like this one, I turned this...

Into these....

4.  I had corals, I had fish, but I feared I might need a few extra doodads to fill in blank spaces... so I employed my children’s help with a stack of dollar store coffee filters and cupcake liners, as well as more google eyes, to make some clams and oysters.  A pack of dollar store pearlescent christmas ornaments served as pearls in the clams’ mouths.  I also blew up some various shades of blue balloons to various sizes, to be used as “bubbles” in the ocean water, just in case I had dead space in the trunk tableau that needed filling.

5.  My spray foam insulation corals!  I almost forgot.  A $3 can of spray foam insulation, some bamboo skewers I had laying around the kitchen, plus some waxed paper laid on the grass, resulted in these:

 6.  I mentally prepped and kept ready the misc supplies I’d need on day-of:  sea-colored backdrops, courtesy of blue metallic disposable tablecloths; dollar store Christmas garlands to serve as seaweed.  Several long bungee cords to use as “belts” around my car’s lift gate, for securing the backdrops and fish strands in place.  And, of course, the toolbox of Trunk or Treat, which includes: scissors, masking tape, scotch tape, staplers, pins, etc.  I also borrowed a few of my kids’ ocean-relevant toys, like Vev’s stuffed animal octopus, Dey’s stuffed animal hammerhead shark, etc. to be placed in empty areas of the trunk and give it more marine life.

7.  I told myself this year I wouldn’t need to trouble myself with making a big sign for my trunk.  I have a small cute wood-framed chalkboard, and I used colored chalk to make a sign that said “Discover the Sea” with some cute cartoony art around it.  But - of course, at the last minute, I found myself making a sign garland with a pretty font and eye-popping colored craft foam, to give the whole thing a polished look.  It was my swan song after all.... again, had to go out with a bang.

Anyway.  SO.  How’d it turn out?  I think fairly well.

Boom.

I think it came out amazing.  I was really proud of it.  

Trunk or Treat is NOT a contest, there were no prizes handed out for trunks, and its all in good fun.  But for me, making this look awesome was not about impressions to other people.  I DESPERATELY needed something to look forward to, something to throw myself into, and something to make myself feel good, after a shitty few weeks.  Every time I look at these pictures, I smile.  I am really happy at how our trunk turned out, and I’m happy that when I look back on this season of my kid’s young childhood, I’ll remember one really fun and validating experience, and not only the heartbreaking challenges and losses that we faced this year.  

Another happy thing that emerged from our trunk - one of the teachers, Ms. K, who teaches for the 4-6 year old classroom, is going to be doing a huge project this spring where she decorates her entire classroom like an ocean scene.  She wants to do sort of a class skit on the story of “The Rainbow Fish,” a popular children’s book.  She really loved our trunk, and when she told me about her plan, I was SOOOO happy to tell her right away that when the time comes, I will gladly donate EVERYTHING I made for this trunk to her.  It would give me so much pleasure and satisfaction to know that the hours of labor I put into making these coral reefs will go on to be used in another setting, for the kids’ benefit.  I hope that we can make it work out!

Anyway.  So, this was it - my Trunk or Treat SWAN SONG!  I have enjoyed every year that I’ve participated in this event, and am very grateful that this year, the experience could be therapeutic and uplifting.  I’ll post a briefer entry next with a retrospective of Halloween costumes I’ve made for my kids, as well as side-by-sides of my trunks over the years.  I also look forward to sharing the crafting projects I’ve been cooking up in the weeks since Halloween - there are a few!  

Here’s to craft therapy.  Love it, love it, love it.

#Halloween #trunkortreat #family #crafts #sewing #costumes

[sylleboi]

𝕸𝖆𝖝 𝕰𝖗𝖓𝖘𝖙

Born: April 2, 1891 in Bruhl, Germany

Died: April 1 1976 in Paris, France

Summary:

German Max Ernst was a pioneer of several art movements of his time, some of them being the Dada and Surrealisticmovement. He was provocative with his work, shocking society with how innovative and creative-minded he was. He became famous for this, but what was most amazing about him was how he could tap into his unconscious mind and thereby being able to create his dreamlike imagery that mocked social conventions. He was a soldier during World War I, leaving him incredibly traumatized and very critical towards anything that had to do with western culture. Because of this, his way of viewing everything changed dramatically, and to him, the idea of the modern world seemed completely irrational, which was this that his artwork became based on. Ernst was also very interested in the art of the mentally ill as a way of accessing primal emotions and seeing everything from a different perspective than the average person. He made stories out of collages he created, done very precisely in contrast to Hannah Höch collage work that is bolder.

Analysis and Important art by Max Ernst:

Here Everything is Still Floating, 1920

This piece of artwork is made out of cut-out and then pasted printed paper and pencil on printed paper on cardstock. It is made on a very small size of paper, forcing you in to see all the incredible detail put into it. A bug has been turned around to replicate a boat or ship with a big cloud of smoke following it. A fish is also merged into the scene, positioned so that it almost makes it look like it’s floating or flying rather than swimming as it would in the real world; showing how odd Ernst style of art could be. The fact that it is so illogical could tie in with the insanity of World War I and his days serving as a soldier.

The Forest, 1927-1928

This particular piece of artwork is not the only one Ernst has created in this way, in fact, he has done multiple forests collages like this one. I chose this one because I found it quite peculiar. The reason for that being the strong contrast between the sky and the trees. It almost looks like the branches are taking over the sky, growing to create a dark overshadowed world. Forests can be seen as scary when they are wearing nothing but a mystery. You don’t know the story each individual tree has gone through, and you don’t know whether or not the tree is thriving or at the end of its days. Nevertheless, the density of these woods make it feel cramped and sort of creepy. Like you could easily get lost in there with no way to find your way out, but would you want to come back out to the real world? It brings up a lot of theories and questions to me, and I enjoy art that has that kind of effect. The circular shape in the upper-middle part of the artwork, to me, almost looks like a pulse of energy. Or maybe it’s a stylistic way of illustrating the way the suns rays shine through the branches. This piece of art is really up to one's individual interpretation; weather you see nothing but odd shapes and colour, or you feel connected to it by somehow relating to it on a personal level, it is very captivating.

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What can I use this research for?

The way that Max Ernst works with the mediums and genre of collage is interesting. I rarely see collage work nowadays with the amount of precision put into it like he does. A lot of his art looks like paintings; it all looks like it’s meant to fit together; as if it blends together, yet each aspect of it is taken out from somewhere else. I would like to experiment with making collages like that myself; finding things from different resources, putting them together in a way that looks seamless. I think it could be a good challenge because it would most likely give me some valuable understanding and experience, of the process of putting something like the above pieces of artwork together. I myself like to do rough sketching and painting myself, but I have for a long time not been able to do that. I suffer from perfectionism, which comes with its own pros and cons; often it would get in the way for me. I can easily spend 20 hours on one single drawing, perfecting it, being precise with every part of it just like the way Max Ernst cuts out everything with a steady hand and an open mind to then assemble it. So even though I have the patience and need of being precise, trying to replicate his way of working is still going to be a challenge, since I’m not very familiar with working in this genre.

- 

I have now experimented with the style of Max Ernst; 

I took a picture of Kurt Cobain, cropped him out using the polygonal selection tool and a hard eraser brush. I then refined any sharp or uneven edges with an airbrush eraser. Then I did the same thing for the picture of the dog. I placed the dog a layer below the layer of Kurt and blended them into each other. Finally, I did a few value adjustments so they would match a bit better, and I was done with the digital part.

I then printed it out and traced some of the outlines with a fine-liner on tracing paper, adding in additional details and simplifying the overall design.

I really liked working on it. I think I personally prefer Ernst’s style to Höch’s, simply because it has a bigger aspect of realism in it. I would happily do it again! 

[chailatterambles]

Rightful Heir to the Serpent Throne// Sweet Pea Imagine// Ch. 4

A/N: Here is Ch.4 loves! I really enjoyed writing this chapter and i made it a little longer then previous ones. Enjoy and have a wonderful holiday season! <3

Warnings: Language, Slight Violence, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of Abandonment, Underage Drinking.

Word Count: 3k

Part 1  / Part 2 /  Part 3

Synopsis:  Serena is 16 years old and daughter to Rascal Jones, FP’s deceased older brother and fellow Serpent. She grew up on the Southside until her father died in a motorcycle accident. Her mother remarried a doctor and Serena was moved to the Northside at just 11 years old. 5 years and a messy divorce have passed and she is back on the Southside with her mom and younger sister. Can Serena pick up where her life left off? Will she be accepted back by her friends? And how will a certain tall dark and handsome serpent change her life?

FP’s eyes studied my face. I could tell he was trying to decide the best way to approach the situation. Even when we lived on the Northside I never told him about mom’s drinking habits. Since we moved back, the only person I told about my mom’s frequent disappearances was Sweet Pea. He had offered to help but I assured him she would be home permanently soon, she just needed time on her own. I hadn’t seen her since we had been moved back to the Southside, besides the first day we had moved back. I had only found traces that she had stopped by the house, such as new dirty clothes lying askew on her bedroom floor. I had been keeping Sawyer and I afloat with the money I had left over from my summer job, but it was running out.

FP’s hands came up to rub his face, he looked older and more tired. I knew he was facing some heat from the accusations around Jason Blossom’s murder, but I never pushed him for information. Finally, he spoke,

“Kid, why didn’t you tell me?” he looked concerned. I smiled weakly,

“I figured I was doing alright taking care of Sawyer. I’ve dropped her off at school everyday and been making dinners and stuff.” I mumbled, not meeting his eyes. I heard him sigh.

“That’s not the point Serena. It isn’t safe for you two on your own, especially not on the Southside.” He placed Sawyer on the ground and told her to go play in the other room. She glanced between the two of us and disappeared into the other room. FP looked me directly in the eyes and rested his arms on the table.

“You need to tell me everything that has happened over the past few years Serena, because I feel like you haven’t been honest with me.” He said stoned faced. I fell back into my chair and shrunk down slightly. Then, I told him everything. I told him about Derrick’s abuse, Mom’s constant drinking since Sawyer was just a baby, how I had practically raised Sawyer since then and how the past few weeks on the Southside had been. By the time I was done, he was looking down at his lap. His hands were tightly clasped together, and his mouth was in a tight line.

“I am so sorry Chickadee.” He said barely above a whisper. I flinched slightly at the use of my dad’s old nickname. It felt weird hearing it come form someone’s else’s lips. He continued to stare at his lap,

“You and Sawyer need to be under adult supervision.” He leaned back in his chair,

“You two can stay in your house, but there will be someone checking in daily. At least until I can find your damn mother.” He spat the last part of the sentence. I could tell he was angry. His eyebrows were knit tightly together, and his eyes were narrowed. I didn’t protest, only nodded. He finally looked at me,

“Do you have any idea where she would be?” he questioned. I shrugged,

“Wherever there is a club or a bar, she will be there.” I said nonchalantly.

“I would try New York first. Big city, lots of places for her to run to.” I added. I didn’t hate my mom, I never could. I was upset that she had all but abandoned us. She had never gotten over my dad’s death, and remarrying Derrick was never about love. It was always about security and financial stability, that’s why she stayed despite the abuse. Even, after all that, I still couldn’t understand how she just left us. I realized I hadn’t spoken in awhile and realized FP was studying me, probably waiting for me to cry. I never cry, not since dad. I gave FP a small smile,

“What should Sawyer and I do about money and stuff? I’m running out.” I said shyly. He gave me a reassuring smile,

“Serpents always take care of their own kid. We will help you out.” I went to protest, but he put his hand up.

“You know the laws.” He said. I nodded, but added,

“At least let me get a part-time job or something.” My face lit up,

“What if I worked at the Whyte Wyrm with Toni?” I said slightly excited. FP thought about it for a second and then nodded,

“Fine, but don’t let it interfere with school.” He said sternly. I rolled my eyes but agreed. Finally, things were looking up for Sawyer and me. I smiled to myself.

-

A few days passed, and I decided to spend some time down at the quarry with Sweet Pea, Toni and Fangs. Some other Serpents were mulling around, but the four of us were off by ourselves. Toni and Fangs were skipping rocks across the lake. Fangs kept pushing Toni whenever she went to throw. This ended in them wrestling on the rocks. I watched them with a smile on my face,

“Don’t mess up his face too bad T.” I called. She looked up from where she had Fangs pinned against the ground,

“I make no promises!” she grinned. I laughed and went back to sketching in my sketchbook as, Toni held Fangs’s arm behind his back yelling at him to concede. Sweet Pea shook his head and leaned back against the picnic table, closing his eyes. The sun was shining through the trees, despite the cold weather. I glanced at him and the sun was hitting his face just right. I turned to him and crossed my legs on the bench.

“Don’t move!” I instructed. He opened one eye and smirked.

“Do I looked that good?” he asked sarcastically. I rolled my eyes.

“There is just really good lighting right now, so don’t move.” I said. My fingers gripped the pencil tightly as my hand flew across the page. I threw him quick glances to compare the growing sketch. He closed his eye and I continued to draw. Soon, I had what I considered a very rough sketch of Sweet Pea’s face tilted back, one eye open, smirking.

“Okay-“I flipped the book to face him, propped on my knee, “What do you think?” I asked hopefully. Sweet Pea opened his eyes and tilted his head down to look at the drawing. He was silent for a moment and peeked at me from behind the book,

“You got a real talent there Northside.” He gave me a cocky grin, “Although, it isn’t hard to make me look good.” I rolled my eyes.

“Yes of course. My drawing ability has nothing to do with it.” I mocked sarcastically.

“Maybe, you’re so good at drawing me because you stare at me all the time.” He said smiling slyly. My cheeks instantly felt warm and I put my book back in my lap pretending to busy myself with the drawing. Sweet Pea laughed and put his hand over mine to stop its movement. I looked at him from underneath my eyelashes,

“I’m just bugging you.” He said still chuckling. I gave him a weak smile and tried to look anywhere but his face. He lifted his hand to my chin and tilted my face towards him. I was suddenly aware of how close his face was to mine. He cocked his head slightly and gave me a teasing smile,

“What, don’t wanna look at me anymore?” I could hear my heart beating in my ears and my blood was racing through my veins. It was like every nerve in my body was alive instantly with just one simple touch.

“I- “I was cut off by my phone buzzing on the table. Sweet Pea dropped his hand suddenly and moved away from me.

“Better get that.” He mumbled and got up to go over to Toni and Fangs. My whole body ached from the loss of his touch. I picked up my phone and noticed it was FP. I tapped the answer button and put the phone to my ear,

“Hey FP, what’s up?” I asked trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.

“You coming to get your sister soon, I have a dinner with Jug and his new girlfriend tonight.” I blinked in surprise.

“Uh, yeah I can come grab her now. Ill see if Pea can bring me over.” I replied.

“Okay kid, just hurry. I don’t want to mess this up for Jug.” The line went dead and I stared at my phone in shock. I didn’t even know Jughead had a girlfriend and FP was going to dinner with them? Well, at least he was making an effort with his son. I was happy for him. I glanced up at my friends,

“Hey Pea, I gotta pick up Sawyer from FP’s. Can you take me over?” he looked in my direction and just nodded. Toni looked at me too,

“What about your shift tonight?” she asked. I groaned. I had completely forgot I had to work tonight. I put my hands in my head trying to think, then I heard Sweet Pea’s voice,

“Why don’t you just bring her to the Whyte Wyrm?” I snorted and then looked at him. He was wearing a serious expression,

“You’re kidding? I’m not bringing a five-year-old to a bar Pea.”

“Why not? She will be surrounded with tons of babysitters then.” Fangs said chiming in. Boys were impossible. Toni rolled her eyes at both of them. This was going nowhere. I needed someone that could watch Sawyer, preferably not a random drunk middle-aged man in a gang bar.

“I could ask Rose.” I heard Sweet Pea say. I played dumb,

“Who’s Rose?” I asked innocently. Toni scowled at me, knowing full well I already knew.

“She’s my grandma, she is good with kids. Sawyer would probably like her. You guys could meet her tonight before your shift.” I smiled at him. He was so sweet when he wanted to be. I stood up from the picnic bench, dusting the dirt of my ripped jeans. I walked over to my friends and stood in front of Sweet Pea with a smile plastered to my face,

“That would be wonderful. Thanks Pea!” he shrugged.

“It’s nothing. I’m sure Rose would love the company anyways.”

-

Sweet Pea and I picked Sawyer up from FP’s and drove back to Pea’s place in his truck. It wasn’t to far of a drive since it was only a few blocks over in another trailer park. Sawyer hopped out of the truck and skipped to the front door. As she got the door it swung open.

“Aren’t you the cutest thing ever!” a woman, I assumed to be Rose exclaimed. Sawyer smiled up at her and nodded. I walked around the truck to the front door and put my hand out,

“Hi, I’m Serena. You must be Rose.” She looked up from Sawyer and smiled at me,

“I sure am darling. Oh, I knew who you were. Sweet Pea talks about you all the time. Sweet Pea scoffed from beside me,

“Yeah, alright Rose. Let’s go inside.” I gave Sweet Pea a cocky smirk and he rolled his eyes at me, ushering us all inside. Sawyer immediately sat down in front of the TV and found the cartoons. I followed Rose into the kitchen and she motioned for me to sit down. Finally, I was able to get a good look at her. Her hair was long and black, the same color as Sweet Peas. She had a single grey streak that ran through the front section of her hair. She was a few inches taller then me, but was slightly hunched over due to age, I assumed. Her face did not make her look more then 50 years old. I smiled when I noticed she was wearing all black and I could just make out a very faded serpent tattoo peeking out from underneath her jacket sleeve.

She set down a glass of what smelled like whiskey at her spot, a beer for Sweet Pea and then she looked at me,

“What’re you having hun?”

“Just water thanks. I have to go to work soon.” She raised an eyebrow, but nodded filling a glass from the tap and setting down the water in front of me. She sat down in her chair and propped her legs up on the table. I watched her down the brown liquid and focus her attention back on me,

“So, Sweet Pea tells me you need a babysitter?” my head snapped to look at Sweet Pea who gave half a shrug,

“I texted her before we left the Quarry.” I nodded knowingly. I looked back at Rose,

“Um, yeah. FP usually babysits for me when he isn’t busy or sometimes Sweet Pea, or Toni, but im kinda stuck right now.” I babbled. She put her hand up and nodded,

“Not a problem hun. I would gladly watch her.” She gestured towards Sweet Pea with her head,

“This little shit is never home, so it would be nice to have some company.” Sweet Pea sighed.

“I have stuff to do.” Rose rolled her eyes and looked at me,

“When he says stuff he really means drinking and playing pool.” I laughed and nodded. She tilted her head and studied me,

“How do you know FP?” she questioned. I smiled,

“He was just a friend of the family growing up.” I said coolly. She nodded and dropped the subject thankfully.

We all continued talking for a bit before Sweet Pea and I got ready to leave. Sawyer seemed happy enough in front of the TV, but then Rose called her form the kitchen,

“Hey, cartoons addict! Wanna come help me with dinner?” Sawyer peeked around the corner into the kitchen,

“What’s for dinner?” she asked skeptically. Rose grinned at her and leaned down, so she was looking her in the eyes,

“What do you want for dinner?” Sawyer paused and thought about it,

“Hotdogs and mac’n cheese.” Rose clapped her hands together,

“Hotdogs and mac’n cheese it is!” She pushed herself from her chair and went over to the fridge. Sawyer squealed with excitement and pulled a chair over to the counter to stand with Rose. Sweet Pea and I laughed and headed out to the Whyte Wyrm.

“Bye little Sparrow!” I called as I was leaving. She didn’t respond, I just laughed to myself.

-

It was nearing the end of my shift and I was exhausted. The bar had been packed all night and it was just Toni and I. Lucky for us, the tips were pouring in. I looked at my phone and it read 10:30pm. At least I was off in half an hour. I was cleaning up at the bar when I heard a voice from in front of me,

“Shot of tequila please hot stuff.” I looked up from my task and was met with a drunk stare from a Serpent I did not recognize. I put one hand on my hip and had the other resting on the counter,

“I think you have had enough.” I said firmly. He shook his head lazily at me,

“As long as a fine piece of ass like yourself is working the bar, ill keep coming back.” He slurred. I grimaced at him and continued cleaning. He kept yelling comments at me, but I kept on ignoring him. Finally, he got mad. Suddenly, he reached across the bar and grabbed my wrist tightly,

“Hey Bitch, I am fucking talking to you.” He said angrily. I tried to wriggle free from his grasp but it kept getting tighter,

“Get your fucking hand off me before I break it off.” I growled. He leaned over the bar and tried to reach for my other hand but then suddenly, I was free. He had disappeared, and I peeked over the counter to see him sprawled out across the floor. I looked up and Sweet Pea was standing in front of me shaking his hand,

“Fucking dick is wasted.” His eyes lifted to meet mine,

“You okay?” I nodded.

“Thanks Pea.” I said quietly looking down. Sweet Pea reached for my hand and I let him take it willingly. He turned my wrist over in his hand examining it. My skin was warm where he was gently holding it. He let go of my hand and I put it back to my side,

“You might have some bruising there, but you should be good.” I smiled at him and he returned it. He called over some Serpents and they gladly collected the guy off the floor, throwing him out of the bar in the process. I watched Sweet Pea walk back over to his pool game with Fangs. Fangs high fived him and they went back to their game.

-

I sighed with happiness as I exited the Whyte Wyrm with my friends. Toni yawned and stretched out her arms,

“Fuck, tonight was crazy.” I nodded in agreement.  My phone buzzed in my pocket it and I whipped it out looking at the name. It was unknown. I scrunched up my face in confusion. I slowly put the phone to my ear,

“Hello?” I phrased it as more of a question.

“Serena?” I heard his voice say on the other line. I hadn’t spoken to him in so long, I had almost forgotten what his voice sounded like. I turned away from my friends and brought my voice down to a whisper,

“Jug?” I questioned.

“Yeah.” He replied.

“Why are you calling me from an unknown number?” I asked worried.

“I’m calling from the police station.” He responded. I felt my pulse quicken,

“What happened? Are you okay?” I asked not whispering anymore. My friends were looking at me in confusion.

“I’m fine.” He assured me. I let out a breath, but it was too soon, he continued,

“But my dad isn’t. He was just arrested for Jason Blossom’s murder.” I felt all the blood drain from my face and my heartbeat was thumping in my ears. Suddenly, I could not breathe properly and a feeling I had not felt since my dad died came rushing back.

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