#but for now here is my messy incomplete sketch
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drew this tlt thing over a month ago intending to paint it digitally and that still hasn’t happened so
based on Pietà by William-Adolphe Bouguereau
#maybe I will make it digital eventually!#but for now here is my messy incomplete sketch#clockwise from like 8 o’clock we’ve got pal then Isaac then Abigail then cytherea then magnus then jeannemary then coronabeth then camila#the locked tomb#griddlehark#gideon nav#harrowhark nonagesimus#palamades sextus#camila hect#btw this is like post-blown-up-by-pal cytherea so she’s got like short burned hair#fin-cae art#tlt
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Teach me the ways of the dragu art
yeah I'll use what I'm currently drawing for this hold on
really long tutorial on how I draw below
step one: sketch
my sketches usually start with a circle for the head and I build from there! generally I just use the circle if I'm familiar with the character and the pose, but it is always good to use more shapes for the rest of the body!
sketches are also a good phase to play around with proportions, the nice part of digital art is that it's really easy to erase or select and stretch/move parts that look funky. play around till it looks right, don't be afraid to use references
step 2: lineart
linearts my worst enemy sometimes, so occasionally I just resort to cleaning up the switch or just making the lineart really sketchy and messy
here though I just follow the sketch to the best of my ability, i don't always do it but I shade in shadows sometimes
also on spots that are like folds or something, I make the lines gradually thinner the farther away from the edge they get. if that makes sense
step 3: color (which is incomplete rn my bad)
I unno what to really say for this one uh
easy trick to coloring everything fast, and if your art program lets you, make a giant square that covers everything behind the lineart, erase or fill any openings in the lineart, select the outside part of the colored square with the wand tool or wtv, and erase/delete. then boom you got a filled color base to go off of, go you!
otherwise if the wand tool doesn't exist, I just draw around the insides of the lineart and fill
step 4: shading
im not planning to shade this drawing so i have to scrounge up old stuff now ouh
shading ! is fun sometimes
i start by picking a bright color that fits nicely with the rest of the art, n choose any spots that would be blocked from the light (i cannot explain this m sorry)
then i put the blending setting on the layer to multiply, set the opacity down until it looks fine
and congrats you've shaded
sometimes i also add a slight blur or like every so slightly softening lines which i do not have an example of right now. i just do this on the ends of the shadows because i think it looks nice
the rest of the art is up to you, color the lines, add a gradient over everything, go crazy.
the best way to get 'better' is practice! doodle whenever ya can, i doodle on homework and notes all the time. find your own little strategies and tidbits to add to your art! just have fun with it in the end!
also when in doubt: add more fluff /j
(my old nightcat design compared to the new)
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2023 art retrospective! ✨
I can't believe I'm writing one of these again already; where did this year go??
Looking back on this past year, wow! I can see and feel my confidence with my art growing tremendously. Finally it feels like I'm comfortable with tools and the process. I'm not totally lost when I open a canvas; there's a sense of reassurance that I can do it, and if I can't, I will figure it out along the way.
Overall, finding time, space, and energy for art proves to be both exceedingly difficult and yet the only thing that I want to do when I get home. I know logically this is mostly because of my job--new office, new boss, new responsibilities, new position--and a few huge life transitions, but when you're someone who makes things who is not making things, it can be rough seas in the brain soup.
I think a major theme for this year was getting back into creative habits. It's an annual tradition at this point to nosedive into an artist's block death spiral. February into March into April...were all lean months for my creativity. Intense job/interpersonal stuff plus news of two of my big art inspirations both suddenly dying...the world hit me hard in these months.
I owe a lot to Lynda Barry's Making Comics for giving me my spark back and for helping to heal a part of me that I didn't realize was so broken and bruised. I remember when I picked the book up around my birthday; the cashier said the book made her cry and I didn't understand. I asked why, and she said "It's just healing." I was skeptical, but now I get it. I've been observing more, giving more credence to my creativity, and being less afraid of making a "bad" drawing.
Now I've been focusing on creating portfolio pieces that I'm proud of and happy to display in my space, as well as finally getting around to my hoard of accumulated characters. I've been picking away at my personal site and uploading much more to toyhouse to keep track of them all.
The last month or so has been completely consumed by making gifts, meeting deadlines, finishing owed art, continuing special projects 👀...so I haven't had much of a presence here. I've been doing lots of traditional art--getting back into acrylic painting and hopefully back into oils soon. I started pine needle basket weaving and have made 2.25 baskets so far! it's a long, tedious, menial process, but it's so satisfying to have something physical (and functional) that you've worked on for hours. I've also been living in my sketchbook the past week--practicing with pens, markers, and practicing itself. I've been conditioned to have the sketchbook be a precious space, and I am trying my best to break out of that. If you want to see some of my traditional sketches and offline stuff, I made a little collage for this year's picks too. ↬ sketchbook 2023
I think for next year I'd like to continue finding better balances--in how I spend my time, how I can spend my time...and to continue pushing myself out of my comfort zone with experiments and messiness. I want to continue being creative in so many more mediums--more film photography and video, hopefully!
In my sketchbook I wrote this meandering paragraph that I want to share: this is a living document--of breath, of movement, not of polished stasis. I reject capitalistic notions of being "industrious" "beautiful" "marketable" "pristine" and on public display at all times. I am not a product to be consumed; neither is my work. I embrace the messy, the incomplete, and the ugly. I refuse to tailor myself to an unseen audience. We thirst for the drafts, the brushstrokes, the incomplete works of the famous. Is this because, in our minds, this makes them more human? Less untouchably great? Or do we see ourselves in the struggles and not in the finished pieces? How charitable is that reading? What I would give to see my inspirations' marker streaks, their 12yo sparkledogs. Framing these byproducts--there's that word again--as art reframes them, reframes myself. To be human is to mark-make, to scribble in the dirt. I hear they reconstruct civilizations from stuff like that.
All my best to you & yours, and happy new year!
art featured:
garden ghost | Vagabonds - Aqua Fria River | 6040
elk? | i'll still be around | blue sky | umm hihihi omg hi
...? | porcelain | nothing to remember | Lacquer | river
bed-time
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UNIVERSITY WITH MENTAL ILLNESS
Mental health and illness is already hard enough, but adding school pressure on top is hard. High school was easier for me since there is a lot more structure and a lot less choice, which is why I'm targeting this towards college and university students.
Firstly is attending class. Getting to class is a major hurdle, especially with a commute like me (1 hour+) broke people problems lmao. Driving that long to go to a class just to drive back home is already exhausting and unpleasant, especially knowing professors will post slides or something after class anyways. But you have to drag yourself there. One thing I do to help is dress up. I'll do my makeup and put on nicer clothes. Why does this work for me? I hate wasting stuff, especially money and to me, putting on makeup is spending money essentially (same logic as using rare items in a video game idk). I can't just sit around the house and waste the money I just put on my face so I gotta go to class. Small things like this to trick your brain works so well. Before this, there was a restaurant I absolutely loved next to campus so if I went to every class for two weeks I would reward myself by going there. Another thing that helps is making plans with people ahead of time. They'll hold you accountable on days that you can't.
Take rest days. Schedule one whole day a week where you don't do school or go to work. It's a day completely off for anything. I use this day to do chores in the morning and then just lay around and do absolutely nothing all afternoon and night. This helps recharge and reduce stimulation and socialization. It gives your brain that little rest it cries for every day. I used to panic so much about this one day because I could be working and making money or studying or doing anything to be productive until I had a week where I couldn't do anything because I broke down completely, mentally and physically. Now I see it as a preservation day. I use this day to recover from everything.
Make your notes pretty. I hate going back and looking at my messy class notes. Everything is scattered and messy and I get frustrated. What I do instead is make a virtual, concise copy that is pretty to me. I'll add little sketches, color, pictures, etc. This helps draw my attention and allows me to study while doing it! Making the second copy forces you to go through the material after a class is over and review the material to decide what is truly important and then organize it all and then rewrite it all. This has been a huge help.
Use class breaks to snack or grab coffee. One thing I have found in many people with high anxiety is that food and drinks really help calm you down. I've found some research suggesting it's because food is a signal that things are safe and therefore makes you more relaxed, though I don't know much about anthropology and psychology fields. I find this really helps to calm me down after I had a very stressful test so that I can be more present for the next class. Gum helps a lot on high anxiety/panic days as well.
Download the notes or slides, especially if posted ahead of time. This way you have access even if you don't have wifi. You can even pull them up in lectures so you don't have to focus on the board the whole time. For my people with autism, this has helped me so much. There are times where you can't focus on the professor and the slides and the sounds and writing, so doing this cuts out having to watch the teacher and the board. Bonus points if you can record during lecture as well so you can revisit parts that you zoned out in or couldn't focus on.
Keep a journal or diary and list your activities, food, weather, etc in it as well as your mood. This can help you find correlations to hack shit. My favorite way of doing this is through the Daylio app (I wrote a post about it here). Like I notice that days when it's rainy, I study and read more and days where I walk more and eat breakfast, I focus better and am happier overall. This information helps so much. If I know it's going to rain tomorrow, I won't try to force myself to study a bunch today and instead save that energy for later. Instead, I'll take care of myself and go for a walk or something. Knowing how you work and why really makes a HUGE difference.
This might just be my autism brain, but finding cool things related to the topic at hand has helped me keep interest in at least a little of the subject, helping me study more. Like I don't like chimaeras (a fish group) BUT for some reason I love fish teeth and these fishes have a very unique tooth set. This at least let's me know something instead of just ignoring and forgetting everything. 20% is better than nothing.
Find a reason to study what you do, even if it's just that you need this class to graduate. Just taking classes for no reason seems like something neurotypical people are able to do. I can't do it. I need a reason and if I can't find one, I just give up. I used to always say it was useless and pointless and didn't understand why it was required. But I realized the reason to take it is because I want a piece of paper that says I traded lots of money and sanity for it. And that reason has to be good enough.
Make study games. Games are more fun than lifeless paper. Matching games, crosswords, coloring pages, whatever you like!
Feel free to add your tips to this post as well!! I always have room for improvement and experimentation, especially for really hard days. I still find myself skipping even online classes some days. No one had all the answers or has everything figured out. This is just an incomplete list of things that have helped me out a bit and made college life a bit easier.
#study blog#study hard#studyblr#school#student#student life#studying#productivity#autism tips#depression tips#tips and tricks#study tips#college tips#tips#university advice#school advice#advice#college#college life#university#mental health#mentally ill#mental heath support
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The doodles first started when he was 16. Little stars on his wrists when he woke up, a flower curling on his palm before class, an inky sketch of some mountains on his thigh. Rationally, he knew what they were, why they were there, but it didn’t stop the initial stab of disgust at seeing the ink on his body. He washed it off frequently and often right away. By the end of the week, the drawings became less frequent. The loss of them did not hurt, but a stab of anxiety followed when he woke inkless and alone like always. Kiyoomi had never written back. The idea of writing—what if the ink was toxic and made him sick, what if they were allergic to something and it somehow leake---he took a breath, shaking the thoughts from his head.
He didn’t hate the idea of having a soulmate. It made life easier knowing that he didn’t need to waste his time looking for a partner. He preferred it when things were clear cut, easy to understand, and with a visible end in sight.
Not where people can see, he wrote on his thigh, just high enough that it wouldn’t show when he was playing. His handwriting was chicken scrawl and despite his attempts to make it neater, he never managed it.
He waited minuets, checking with such frequency that not even cleaning his room had taken his mind off it. Words didn’t always make it through. No one knew why or how the process worked. Scientists debated that the reason words didn’t appear were because communication as a human method, poets wrote about the mysteries of soulmate marks and fate, but Kiyoomi thought it was simpler than all of that. Soulmate marks lead you to your soulmate when you were ready. Relationships were messy and complicated and despite how alone he was at times, he didn’t want one right now.
A single word followed, written so neatly it could have been its own font.
Ok.
The eighty-eighth floor of MSBY’s headquarters was not a place that Kiyoomi ever dared enter. He was content in receiving his paycheck on the day he was meant to and waiting for contract negations to raise any issues. Atsumu had managed to sneak his way into the Management and Finance department the first week he’d joined the team. Apparently, the gossip among their teammates wasn’t enough to quell his nosy behavior. How he’d managed to convince him to join in on his lunch-time venture, Kiyoomi wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he regretted his decision already.
Couches were scattered in the main room surrounding large flat-screen T.Vs that played the news in a constant cycle. A large-open kitchen faced the back wall where a couple of people hung around, holding steaming mugs. Two people sat at one of the couches, intensely focused on a video-game they were playing. All around the floor, leading up the offices down the hall, were flowers. Some hung from the ceiling, spilling over the pots with vines drifting downwards. Large bouquets in crystal vases littered the tables. Kiyoomi could feel his nose twitching.
“Come on,” Atsumu said, leading him down the hall where several offices were tucked against the floor to ceiling windows. They came to a stop in front of a corner office where a small shoe rack lined with slippers, some still in the plastic casing, rested outside the door. A pair of pale pink slippers were on the top shelf, bunny ears plastered obnoxiously at the front.
“Take off your shoes. Y/N-chan hates dust. I’m pretty sure she ripped out the carpet with her bare hands when she got here.”
“I’m surprised you’re actually doing it,” said Kiyoomi. Too often had he watched in disgust as the man went home wearing the same sweaty clothes he’d practiced in.
“Y/N almost had a heart attack the first time I came in here, kinda made me feel bad not to listen after that,” Atsumu admitted. Kiyoomi struggled to rearrange his features to hide his doubt at the words and failed.
“Yet, when I tell you to stop stealing my face masks and towels, you never listen,” he said, dryly.
“That’s different. She’s a girl. You’re Omi-Omi.”
“So, if I miraculously gain a vagin-” Kiyoomi started.
“Do ya ever shut up? I’m not arguin’ with ya in the middle of the hall,” Atsumu hissed, his accent coming out stronger in his annoyance. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. If anything, it was Atsumu who started every one of their arguments, but his own boredom didn’t help.
“No need to be so sensitive,” said Kiyoomi.
“Put the damn slippers on,” Atsumu said, shoving the unopened packet into his gut. Sakusa smirked beneath his mask, gingerly opening up the slippers.
They were in the office for a full ten minutes before anyone arrived. Atsumu took the time to make himself comfortable in the leather chair behind the desk, making the various figurines of the team fight. Prototypes for the upcoming season, thought Kiyoomi, glancing at the little chibi version of himself in curiosity. The door snaps open and a woman walked in harried and tapping on her phone. She wasn’t dressed in office clothes, rather in an oversized hoodie with the name of a foreign university splashed across the front and leggings. The pink slippers that sat outside were on her feet.
“I thought I banned you from here last week,” she said with a groan, tossing a bag down onto the couch. She nodded to him in greeting, but otherwise ignored his existence.
“I bought a friend as a peace offering,” Atsumu said, throwing a hand in his direction. Y/N’s gaze fell to him briefly, brow furrowing.
“I don’t accept,” she said, turning to glare at Atsumu. “Human trafficking is bad. You would have learned that if you actually made it to college.”
“Sorry for joining the team,” said Atsumu. He stood from her desk, letting her settle in. Kiyoomi watched the two interact, wondering how long they had known one another.
“Please, I can replace you any day,” she muttered.
“We all know you love me too much to do that.”
“When I finally jump from the roof, I want everyone to know it’s your fault.”
“Take me with you,” Kiyoomi muttered, shooting Atsumu a look of disgust. Her lips twitched and she offered him a smile. Kiyoomi averted his gaze immediately, not liking that her attention finally focused on him. There was something unnerving in her gaze.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Business as usual. Sakusa needs you this time, not me,” Atsumu said.
“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” she drawled.
“I was brought against my will,” Sakusa acknowledged. She picked up a pen and notepad from her desk, clicking it rapidly as she started to scribble.
“We can file a report,” she joked, “I’m sure the papers would love to hear how Miya Atsumu was involved in a scandal with his teammate.”
“Suddenly, I’m regretting all my life choices leading up to this moment,” Atsumu said.
“You didn’t before?” Sakusa asked. Y/N laughed and Kiyoomi hated how the sound filled the air, bouncing with a levity that he’d never experienced on his own. People like Atsumu---and it seemed like Y/N---had a way of taking up space and never letting it go. They were loud because they thrived on the attention and Kiyoomi who had been surrounded by people but, alone all his life flinched away from it.
He pushed the thoughts away, explaining quickly and concisely that Atsumu had brought him here to specify how he wanted the locker room set up before games. Kiyoomi anticipated resistance to his requests but was shown a brutal efficiency that he can’t help but admire. Y/N listened attentively, taking notes, and asking questions, before promising that they would implement a new cleaning schedule before their next practice. They leave as quickly as they arrived, but part of him expected more and is left empty with the thought that there was something incomplete about their meeting.
That night’s drawing was a little cat curled up in a box. It looked like any other stray that he might see in Tokyo, but there was something endearing about the way its eyes were closed in two tiny smiles. Kiyoomi traced it idly. It must have taken a long time, he thought. The urge to draw something back filled him, but he has neither the talent nor willpower to sit and draw on himself for any length of time. Unlike when he was younger, the drawings came less frequently and always at night.
He watched; brow furrowed in confusion as words appeared beneath the drawing. The rare sight had his heart hammering loudly in his chest.
Azabu, Tokyo.
Masterlist || Next
Taglist: @haikyuuopalite @cuddlesslut @sckusa @imuziawi
#Sakusa x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#haikyuu x reader#haikyu reader#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#hq reader#hq reader insert#Sakusa reader#Sakusa imagine
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【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: A Love Poem to Skadi - Manor of Hermes, Zuo Ran Route
Translation Masterlist | Themis Event Masterlist
Routes: Xia Yan | Zuo Ran | Mo Yi | Lu Jinghe
The “Manor of Hermes” portion of this event requires you to search an abandoned mansion, rumoured to be haunted, to discover its various secrets with each of the male leads.
Please note that there are some subject matters discussed in the “Manor of Hermes” as the player progresses that may make some uncomfortable - please exercise discretion and know your limits. Feel free to ask me for details to check!
See Xia Yan’s route for items that all MLs can find.
Zuo Ran-specific Items
1st Floor – Small Bedroom
MC: Lawyer Zuo, there’s a box under the bed. Should we open it to look?
Zuo Ran: Mm.
Zuo Ran took the box out slowly, then lifted up the box lid.
Zuo Ran: In the box… there are only some communication letters and a drawing.
Zuo Ran: Also, these letters use Akkadian language, the same as in the “Code of Hammurabi”.
Zuo Ran: Do you want to know what is written in the letters?
>I do
>For now, I don’t
MC: I do. There might be important clues in these letters.
Zuo Ran: You’re right. These letters… should be love letters.
MC: Love letters?!
Zuo Ran: Indeed.
Zuo Ran: Look at this one – it starts with “To beloved Allie”. The signer is “Winter”.
Zuo Ran: While the other one, the addressee and the signer are exactly opposite.
Zuo Ran: As for the contents of the two letters… most of it is sweet nothings confided with each other.
Zuo Ran: The other letter mentions that Winter is the son of this mansion’s butler.
Zuo Ran: He and Allie were childhood sweethearts, and the two of them grew up together.
Zuo Ran: But because of some reasons…
Zuo Ran: They were unable to openly display their emotions, so they could only rely on writing letters.
Zuo Ran: As for this drawing… it is written here that it was a present, sent from Allie to Winter.
Zuo Ran: In the corner, there’s also a little sentence saying, “True love with me – Winter and Allie”.
MC: So… these two people were in a romantic relationship?
Zuo Ran: I’m afraid so, although there’s a point that deserves our attention – in the letter that Allie sent to Winter, she said that her days were numbered…
Zuo Ran: I’m afraid that this romance… had some hidden matters in it.
When Zuo Ran finished speaking, he searched through the box again.
Zuo Ran: !!!
MC: What’s the matter, Lawyer Zuo?
Zuo Ran: I found some red gem pieces in the box.
MC: Red gem pieces…
MC: The ones on Allie’s Winter?!
Zuo Ran: They should be.
[Get: Winter and Allie’s Love Letters (1), Drawing, and Red Gem Pieces]
1st Floor – Small Bookroom
MC: Lawyer Zuo, look in these books – there seems to be a document.
Zuo Ran: Don’t touch it yet – I’ll take it.
After he finished speaking, Zuo Ran guarded me behind his body as he took the document.
MC: What’s it like? What’s written on it?
Zuo Ran: This document…
MC: What’s the matter?
Zuo Ran: It seems like this document uses Akkadian language to replace key information.
MC: Then, Lawyer Zuo, do you understand what it says on there?
Zuo Ran: Mm, I’ve analyzed the “Code of Hammurabi” before, and learned Akkadian language along the way.
Zuo Ran: This document… it’s a fire combustion experiment record.
MC: Fire combustion experiment record?
Zuo Ran: That’s right. The person who wrote this document seemed to be testing how much area different levels of fire could cause damage to.
MC: If so… someone once was planning to set a fire in the mansion?
Zuo Ran: It’s definitely possible.
Zuo Ran: Although… this document seems to be missing a few pages?
MC: Missing a few pages? Did they fall into other places on the bookshelf?
Zuo Ran: Let me look again.
Zuo Ran searched up and down the bookshelf again. A while later, he stopped his movements.
MC: Lawyer Zuo, did you notice something? Is it the missing experiment records?
Zuo Ran: No, they’re the red gem pieces.
Zuo Ran: Should be the missing parts on “Allie’s Winter”.
[Get: Incomplete Fire Combustion Test Record (1) and Red Gem Pieces]
2nd Floor – Allie’s Bedroom
MC: Seems like there’s something here…
I tried groping into the bottom of the cabinet, and I grabbed onto a document.
MC: Look, Lawyer Zuo, isn’t this a… experiment record document?
Zuo Ran: It is.
MC: Then are you able to read what’s written on here?
Zuo Ran: …
Zuo Ran: !!!
MC: What’s the matter? Lawyer Zuo, why has your expression twisted like that?
Zuo Ran: In the contents of the records on here, they used Akkadian language to replace some key information.
Zuo Ran: But this record document is incomplete. This page here has probably been ripped out intentionally.
Zuo Ran: What’s written on here is… setting a fire in the first-floor kitchen will allow the fire to spread at the fastest rate.
Zuo Ran: Once the fire blocks off several paths and stairs, it will cause disorder. Use this to escape the mansion quickly.
Zuo Ran: Aside from that, there’s a single line of an annotation on the document’s blank space… Skadi Island’s local laws, a century ago.
MC: What… were they?
Zuo Ran: “Those who use malicious methods to damage the property of another person, using theft, arson, robbery, et cetera…”
Zuo Ran: “Regardless of the reason, they will be punished by execution.”
Zuo Ran: Wait… aside from this annotation about the law, there’s also a line written under… which seems to be someone’s comment?
MC: ???
Zuo Ran: “He can’t do it… but the method is feasible…”
MC: This…
Zuo Ran: …
Zuo Ran: Let’s look around again, to see if there are any other clues.
MC: Okay.
Zuo Ran and I earnestly searched around the closet again.
But aside from finding some gem pieces that we suspected were needed on “Allie’s Winter”…
We didn’t notice anything else that was useful.
MC: …
[Get: Incomplete Fire Combustion Test Record (2) and Red Gem Pieces]
--
I noticed a diary under the pillow.
>Read the diary
MC: …
Zuo Ran: What are you looking at?
MC: It’s the diary I just noticed. The owner’s name is written on the cover, “Allie”.
MC: But in this diary, a large portion of the contents have been replaced by Akkadian language.
MC: I don’t understand this…
Zuo Ran: Give it to me – I understand these kinds of languages.
MC: Lawyer Zuo, do you really have no problems with this? With so much…
Zuo Ran: Have you forgotten what I’ve said? I’ve analyzed Akkadian language before – don’t worry.
MC: Then… I’ll have to trouble Lawyer Zuo.
Zuo Ran: No problem.
Zuo Ran: …
Zuo Ran flipped through the diary, sinking into deep thought for a while.
MC: Did you notice anything?
Zuo Ran: This truly was Allie’s diary. As for why she used Akkadian to switch out the diary’s contents…
Zuo Ran: She did this so her father would not notice that she was interacting with the butler’s son, Winter.
Zuo Ran: Based on the local laws of Skadi back then, parents had the full right to decide on the marriages of the younger generation.
Zuo Ran: And Allie’s father… severely looked down on Winter.
Zuo Ran: To protect each other, Allie and Winter used Akkadian language, a language that only the two of them knew in this whole mansion.
MC: Is that so…
Zuo Ran: Mm. Another reason was that Winter dreamed of becoming a big judge…
Zuo Ran: So Allie accompanied him in studying and analyzing all sorts of legal code items.
Zuo Ran: She also wrote in excerpts in her diary in passing, or she used the contents of many classic literature works.
Zuo Ran: Simultaneously, there are also her own feelings and annotations beside these contents.
Zuo Ran: Like this line – this is from the “Code of Hammurabi”.
Zuo Ran: And this line is a law from the “Code of Justinian”.
Zuo Ran: It seems like she… saw these activities as a way of… “entrusting her hope” in her chase after freedom.
MC: ???
Zuo Ran: Here, she wrote: “Though I have no way to leave this mansion, and I have no way of shaking off the chains that bind me…”
Zuo Ran: “When I study these materials, my soul is free.”
Zuo Ran: “Through them, I can imagine those worlds outside that I’ve never seen before.”
Zuo Ran: Although…
MC: ???
Zuo Ran: The first half of the diary is normal. The latter half… Allie’s handwriting is messy and her phrasing is panicked…
Zuo Ran: And there are a lot of sketches, the reason of which is unknown.
Zuo Ran: This kind of condition seems somewhat like some mental illness patients that I’ve seen before.
MC: Then, Lawyer Zuo, you mean that Allie might have been afflicted with a mental illness?
Zuo Ran: It’s just a possibility, but we can’t be sure.
Zuo Ran: Oh right, there are some gem pieces stuck between the diary pages.
Zuo Ran: It should be what we’re looking for.
[Get: Allie’s Diary and Red Gem Pieces]
3rd Floor – Art Room
MC: (There are letters in the box… but the contents of these letters are… Akkadian language?)
MC: (I don’t understand these languages whatsoever)…
MC: (Akkadian language… right!)
MC: Lawyer Zuo, may I request for your help?
Zuo Ran: What do you… need me to do?
MC: May I trouble you to see what’s written on these letters?
MC: When the letter was written, they used Akkadian language…
MC: I remember that Lawyer Zuo is very familiar with these languages.
Zuo Ran: Give it to me.
Zuo Ran took the letter.
Zuo Ran: …
MC: How is it, Lawyer Zuo?
Zuo Ran: These letters are the private “love letters” between two people, “Allie” and “Winter”.
Zuo Ran: Allie and Winter had romantic relations, but Allie seemed to… receive some sort of treatment?
Zuo Ran: Not only did this treatment not make her body better, but she instead got worse and worse…
Zuo Ran: Thus, she felt that her days were numbered.
Zuo Ran: Allie wanted to convince Winter to leave, but Winter refused. The reason why he refused was…
Zuo Ran: !!!
MC: What is it?
Zuo Ran: “I’ve found a way that will let us completely shake off this mansion and your father.”
MC: !!!
Zuo Ran: Wait, there’s also a follow-up here…
Zuo Ran: Based on the date, it seems like some time had passed.
Zuo Ran: In the letter, “Winter” told “Allie” that their original plan required changes.
Zuo Ran: “There’s already no more time for me to finish preparations. They will change you into a walking corpse.”
Zuo Ran: “There’s no more time to hesitate – I will immediately take you away.”
Zuo Ran: “Escape with me, my Allie.”
MC: !!!
Zuo Ran: …
MC: So… did they escape?
Zuo Ran: I’m afraid we need to find more clues to know.
MC: Then let’s keep searching.
We lowered our heads again, carefully searching through the inside of the box.
But we didn’t find any similar letters.
Although, we did gain some fortune because of disappointment – I noticed some gem pieces at the bottom of the box.
MC: (This should be what we’re looking for.)
[Get: Winter and Allie’s Love Letters (2) and Red Gem Pieces]
--
A letter was hidden at the back of the art easel.
>Take off the letter and open it
MC: …
Zuo Ran: What are you looking at?
Zuo Ran: It’s the letter I just noticed behind the easel, but this letter was written using Akkadian language…
MC: I don’t understand these languages, so…
Zuo Ran: Give it to me.
Zuo Ran: I once analyzed the “Code of Hammurabi”, and learned Akkadian language for this.
Zuo Ran: This should be able to help you.
MC: Th-thank you, Lawyer Zuo.
Zuo Ran: …
Zuo Ran took the letter and quickly read it.
MC: Lawyer Zuo, what’s written in this letter?
Zuo Ran: The person who wrote this letter is “Winter”. This is his… “suicide note”.
MC: Suicide note?!
Zuo Ran: Mm. In the letter, he says…
Zuo Ran: “In compliance with the appointment, I returned alive after the fire went out, but you missed the appointment…”
Zuo Ran: “Though it was lonely during these years in the mansion, it was very happy…”
Zuo Ran: “I’m sorry. In the future, I can no longer protect you…”
Zuo Ran: …
The atmosphere gradually got heavier, and I decided to change the topic.
MC: Oh right, Lawyer Zuo, I noticed something else when I noticed this letter just now.
Zuo Ran: What is it?
MC: The gem pieces we’re looking for.
MC: If we keep going at this rate, we should be able to fully piece together the gems very soon!
[Get: Winter’s Suicide Note and Red Gem Pieces]
--
B1 Level
MC: (We’ve already collected all the gems.)
MC: (Looking at the shape of the notch beside the door lock, it looks similar to the missing part on the flower cluster of “Allie’s Winter”…)
MC: (Let’s try putting this portion’s red gem into it…)
--
B1 Level – Underground Air-raid Shelter
MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at the wall!
MC: Starting from this wall corner, there are a lot of dried blood markings and scratches on the wall.
Zuo Ran: These marks look like they were left from human struggle and self-harm.
Zuo Ran crouched down at the wall corner, observing the details of the marks, one place after another.
Zuo Ran: !!!
Zuo Ran: These blood marks seem to be a sentence.
MC: “Sentence”?
Zuo Ran: Mm. Because it’s written in Akkadian language, most people might not recognize it.
MC: Then what’s this sentence that’s written on the wall?
Zuo Ran: The meaning of this sentence is…
Zuo Ran: “Continue to live on – I will always love you.”
[Get: Allie’s Last Words]
#tears of themis#weiding shijian bu#未定事件簿#zuo ran#yeah this one gave me chills#xia yans wasn't as spooky#i hear mo yis and lu jinghes get even darker#tot translation#tot skadi
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My OC/MC Eise Introduction extended:
Character Description
Okays, so this is linked here from my post here about my MC regarding her relationships with the Obey Me Characters. The original prompt is here. This post is a more detailed description of Eise as a character...
Eise's characteristics:
She has a background in singing, dance and the Circus, so highly coordinated, acrobatic, flexible and athletic. Also used to model but doesn't bring that up with the characters, it's not a big deal to her. Intellectual, she does have a degree but never did anything with it, enjoys a reckless life of freedom instead. Though she still chooses to study ancient history, mythology, and the occult as a hobby. Loves a good book centered in those themes, and a sucker for the classics. She is very capable of acting proper and well mannered, and is quite spectacular at it really. It surprises the hell out of others when they witness it. She just prefers to enjoy acting like an idiot with little regard for consequences much of the time instead.
She's reckless, wild, and spontaneous... A very 'why not?' attitude. Extrovert, thrives in being active and around others, though does enjoy her much needed alone time as well. She's clever, sassy, and mischievous... Likes to keep people guessing despite initially coming off as open book. Has a male cat that she's raised who is much like her, he's her fur baby for sure.
She's extremely creative so arts and crafts galore: clothing design, jewelery making, painting, drawing, decorating, sculpting, writing, music--you name it, she dabbles in it! Humor ranging from Idiotic to Dark. Swears like a sailor, despite a wide vocabulary, so her language is quite the colorful blend of both. Night owl, extremely grumpy in the mornings. Caffine is a must. Alternative Haphazard punk style, favors purposely destroyed clothing, patchwork and buttons. Jack-of-all-trades. Quite the handyman.
Alpha type personality. Hot temper when provoked, with a tendency to get into fights. Doesn't start them usually but God damnit she sure as hell is gonna finish it. Relentless when driven. Extremely caring and protective of anyone she truely cares about, but couldn't give two shits if she doesn't. Comfortable with her body due to having a performer background, so shes not really shy at all, and sometimes uses that to her advantage for shits and giggles.
Eise's physical appearance:
I've included a few early sketches of mine of Eise. The first image is a front and back of her typical casual wear. I included the second image of her in beach wear I did once upon a time for a better sense of her tattoos. The third image is what I dreamed up for formal wear for her.
I went ahead and wrote out the description as well for a better sense of detail in case your brain is like mine, it's after the images. But you can feel free to scroll past the text.
Female with Androgynous tendencies. Light blue hair, usually kept up in a wildly messy bun with long bangs. Light blue eyes, usually rocking black wing-tip eyeliner and dark blue and black eye shadow. Red lipstick usually, tho occasionally nude, blue or black. Tall, 5'10. Pale complexion. Slim muscular build.
Standard Clothes: red bandana around the neck, black choker necklace and long gold chain with a pocket watch on the end. Ragedy black and blue striped crop tank top, high waisted blue denim Daisy dukes. Long brown leather belt. Thigh high black and blue striped socks attached to garters, thigh high charcoal combat boots, red leg warmers over the top. Hazard Yellow zip up hoodie covered in patches, usually hanging off the shoulders with rolled up sleeves. Various bracelets. And silver rings on each finger except ring fingers. Nose ring, tongue ring, nipple rings, triple pierced ears on both sides with another two on the upper right ear and an industrial bar on the upper left ear.
Tattoos: Sun on the right shoulder with clouds underneath, then rain, grass, then red flowers over green leaves and vines down the rest of the arm, compass rose on that elbow. "Outsider" across the chest. An small ankh over her sternum. Two X's under left eye. "Always" with an infinity symbol on left collarbone. A twisted armband around the top of the arm below the shoulder. "Darkside" on the inside of the left bicep. Alchemaic symbol for blood and a solid black triangle on the inner left Forearm. Green serpent on the left hip and side extending onto her lower back, apple by its mouth, three gold stars above it and "Fallen" in red beside the serpant along the spine. Left leg is an incomplete sleeve ranging from mid thigh to mid calf. The top is water with a starfish above the knee and a red and a blue fish with bubbles on the side below the hip. Pearl strand wrapped around the knee, teal scales as the backdrop. The calf is 9 bands, each with simple imagery depicting the 9 circles if hell. A crescent moon above the outside of the ankle. Down the back of the right calf are 7 small circles, the symbols from obey me of the Seven deadly sins, with a small pair of wings beneath them, just above the heel. The shadow hunter sigil on the top of the left foot.
FIN
So yeah that's pretty much Eise! It was a pleasure, I look forward to making more art of her in the future, and now you'll know who she is when she pops up or if you've seen her in some of my other fan art posts!
Also, shoot me an ask or a message if you're interested in me maybe creating an image of your OC alongside Eise in my style. Let's make an MC squad ✌️✌️
#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me fandom#obey me mc#obey me headcanons#obey me headcanon#obey me main character#obey me hcs#obey me hc#obey me oc#obey me fanart
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I Don’t Want To Die (It’s Three AM)
Summary: Deceit’s struggling, and even if he wants to be helped, he can’t bring himself to do it.
It’s three am and Deceit is tired. He forgot his medication, and he regrets it. Or, he thinks he should. He should regret not taking it, because it makes the pain worse, makes the memories play on loop, makes him stop sleeping.
He doesn’t want to sleep though. His heart races, flashes of faces leaning over him cross his mind when he closes his eyes. His present is empty but his head won’t let him stop.
He wonders how the others would feel about his medication. The post it notes hiding and correcting the flaws in his art, the out of proportion eyes, the wonky hands, the bad perspective.
He glances at his sketchbook, feeling the urge to draw, to paint, create. He could show the twins, show them that he appreciates their work, show that they inspire him.
He reaches over, opens it slowly, glancing at the vibrant pastels, the dull grey marker, the incomplete works he abandoned last month.
The urge is there, but his hand shakes when he lifts the pen, and he changes his mind, throwing it aside and trying to sleep again.
It’s three am and Deceit is fed up of hearing Virgil next door, music still playing from the other resident insomniac. He can’t bring himself to cry when Virgil is so close by, in case he’s heard, in case his ex-friend comes to ask what’s wrong.
He holds his breath, rolls over and buries his head under a pillow, clenching and unclenching his fists, hissing quietly to himself that he needs to sleep, needs to rest, needs to keep going, for Thomas.
He doesn’t linger on what he means, closing his eyes and picturing smooth pixels on multiply, pastel painted dots below line art.
He falls asleep to the thought of what his art could be, and wakes up with the idea now distant in his head.
It’s three am and Remus is there, talking about things Deceit enjoys, whilst Deceit tries to be patient. Whilst he tries to tell himself that he should enjoy being with his friends, that it’s good to have company when he feels so low.
“Did you take your medication?” Remus asks suddenly, and Deceit shrugs.
“I think so,” he lies, knowing there’s six days of tablets he’s forgotten to take, too busy trying and failing to sleep to remember to take them. Too busy trying to live day to day.
“You should check-”
“I mean, I did,” he lies again, charcoal lines smudging, the black grinding harsh, sticking to his hands and bleeding slow, “don’t worry, I know I need to take them.”
Remus looks unconvinced, but Deceit smiles, shows him a warm colour palette, and Remus drops it, onto the next subject, unaware of how desperately Deceit just wants to be alone.
And it’s five am but he can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t make, can’t lie, but he’s tired and wonders what it’s like to destroy a piece of art in progress.
It’s three am and he doesn’t know why he’s looking at a cheery vision, a patchy impressionist painting reminiscent of Roman’s ideas.
“I’m Dr Emile Picani!” the fuzzy vision says with a grin, “I think Thomas is trying to design my character a bit more for the next Cartoon Therapy.”
Deceit blinks slowly. Right. Dr Picani the therapist. How ironic, coming across him in his current state.
“Can you actually help people?” he asks, unsure of how long the idea will be around for.
“I believe so! What do you need?”
“...I need...I need...”
Over saturated watercolours drip down the page.
“I need you to...to help me...stay alive...”
The idea looks confused, and Deceit continues, the empty vision the only thing he can say the words aloud to.
“Because...I don’t want to die.”
He thought when he said it (a truth, a lie, two inks bleeding together) it’d be loud and angry and distraught, tears and confessions and desperation. Deep slashes through layers of still drying oil.
But instead it’s simple, defeated, tired. Less oil built up on canvas, more scratches of biro on graph paper. Less Renaissance, more tired high school student.
The idea frowns, tilting it’s head and adjusting it’s glasses.
“Why would you die?” it asks, and Deceit doesn’t have a response.
He doesn’t want to die. He wants to die. He can’t die. He can fade. He wants to fade. He doesn’t want to fade. Framed prints behind glass behind velvet curtains.
“You should talk to someone more real than me,” the idea says softly, and Deceit shrugs.
“There’s nothing more real than us right now,” he replies, glancing around the empty room, and when he looks back the idea is gone.
Art is brief and fleeting, and his canvas bleeds, silvery watercolour dripping down unsuitable paper, leaving wrinkles in its wake.
It’s three am and his phone is beeping, one of the others asking him why he’s still online, ignoring the perfect irony. He regrets them knowing his tumblr account, regrets them seeing his trauma, seeing his pain laid out in perfect black and white photographs.
He reaches out, opens up the app, glances at Roman’s messages, sees the days of notifications he’s been ignoring.
U ok? Not seen you recently.
He wants to reach out, call for help, tell him he’s lonely and sad and hurting and god he doesn’t want to die, if only because he’s scared and Thomas needs him still.
I’m not doing so well, Roman. I really want to die.
He deletes the message, deciding not to send it. He doesn’t want to be vulnerable, paint so carefully laid out, still wet, still easy to smudge. He doesn’t want them to worry, he doesn’t want to admit to the pain, he doesn’t want to die but he doesn’t want to live.
Sorry, being antisocial lol. I’m fine. U?
He chucks his phone away and buries himself back under blankets, knowing he’s only postponing his final message.
It’s three am and he knows he’s messing up. He knows he needs to take his medication, needs to eat, needs to talk, tell people he’s struggling.
He forgets to talk Thomas out of thinking of his existential crisis, and Thomas is still awake, living proof that Deceit keeps failing even when all he has to do is his one job. Lie, keep lying, keep Thomas alive, healthy, keep him fighting.
Bristles fall out of brushes when you leave them in water long enough, and it damages the canvas, leaves bits of paintbrush in the art.
He looks to his sketchbook, gathering dust, and wonders what the point would be any more. He can’t complete anything, he has no skill. He’s not designed to create, not designed to be passionate, he’s designed to lie.
He can’t get rid of the faces, and he can’t sketch them out, show them simply to the others, can’t word them, the thoughts, the images, like an old worn out film on repeat.
“Sorry, Thomas,” he mumbles, and rolls over, trying to sleep.
It’s three am but Patton is sat with him, asking him why he won’t sleep, asking him why he looks so ill, asking him questions Deceit can’t answer, doesn’t want to answer.
“We’ll help you if you need anything,” the moral side tells him, and his eyes are so hopeful, dusky watercolours lined with ink, soft but sharp, “you know that, right?”
And oh, Deceit knows. He knows they’d help, wants to ask for the help, but he doesn’t, and he can’t explain why. He nods and lies his way out of the interrogation, getting Patton to leave, and tries to ignore the way his heart stings at his self imposed isolation.
His room is empty and devoid of the passion he thinks he could have. But it feels so full, full to the brink of long gone shadows, the past weighing in like a thick fog, clouding his head until he falls to the floor in silent tears, not daring to be loud, not daring to let Patton know how much it hurts.
He’s struggling, a shaky sketch doomed to be scrapped, and still all he knows is that he doesn’t want to die.
He doesn’t know what time it is, but the other sides have sat him down, firing questions at him. What is he doing, how is he doing, what does he need, why is he ignoring them?
“Don’t you want to get better?” Logan asks, as if it’s ever been that simple.
Deceit reaches for an answer, an explanation, hesitating between stubs of oil pastel and harsh messy chalk on black paper. But whatever he does, the piece is too abstract and surreal for an explanation to take form in his voice.
“Deceit, we don’t get why you’re doing this to yourself,” Virgil says, struggling with the words, as if Deceit knows any more than he does.
“We’re here to help,” Roman adds, “we just need to know how.”
The canvas is tearing at the seams. Deceit hates when his canvas’ tear. He can’t hide it, even with all the collage and mixed media in the world, watching it bend out of shape.
“I want to get better,” he says, a truth, drops of ink in calligraphy pens.
“Then tell us how we can help!” Patton pleads.
And Deceit shakes his head, head blurry and unsure of how to explain. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t believe they can help push out the voices of the past.
(The sketch is still there underneath the line art.)
He doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s scared, and he doesn’t want to die.
“I could kill you,” the past taunts him, sly and low and echoing through his ears.
He doesn’t want to die any more than he did back then.
He doesn’t know what time it is, but he’s run out of colour, and you can only paint a canvas black for so long before you scrap it altogether.
#might get a second part#deceit sanders#sympathetic deceit#i hate that tag#suicidal thoughts#deceit angst#angst#the others try to help#implied past trauma#implied self harm#insomnia#bad imagery#sanders sides
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I’ve been feeling older than usual today (for a good reason, urg) so I looked back in my files at some of my godawful artwork from when I was an angsty teenager...and I found THIS.
Yep, awful. This was after I broke my dominant wrist (for the second time, mind you) and while my muscles were still weak and cramping anytime I used them. Before that injury I spent many hours putting together my own OC-driven Dragon Ball fan-manga (...it was awful. Don’t ask. I’ve blacked out my previous pen-name and a couple identifying marks from shame.) and I realized most characters looked exactly alike when showing similar emotions. This was how I went about ‘fixing’ that problem - I scribbled up character studies for the worst offenders to show how each expressed common emotions and fine-tune my technique. Nurse Yani here is the only survivor from those doodles, showing concern, embarrassment, annoyance, anger, loneliness, and confidence, all heavily influenced by typical anime expressions. Did it help? A little, but I haven’t drawn as much since then. (My wrist, unfortunately, never fully recovered and now I’m developing carpal tunnel. Joy.)
The kicker? When I scribbled this...
...I never expected it would soon become my inner reaction to half the people I share the world with. At least, while it’s a rarely-used skill that drains the life out of my arms, my drawing skills have improved since then. As awful as that page was I feel obligated to include proof of improvement:
Character sketch of Kineo, transferred to my tablet for line-work. His hair looks like a freakin’ raccoon tail but I trained myself out of some pretty awful habits. (i.e., flat-face profiles, thin-and-pointy tiny noses, unrealistically tiny mouths, eyes don’t match each other or the angle, eyebrows magically change shape becuz emotionz, and what even are facial contours everyone has round faces with a couple pointy spots.
...and here’s the perpetually incomplete digital coloration of said line-work, complete with messy color-grab splotches and a reminder of where the light is coming from if and when I decide to finally put in proper highlights and shadows. As much of a pain in the ass as this has been, I might just leave it flat. If anyone’s curious I’ll add a few details about the character later.
You can still see some of the contour guides left from the sketch and I missed a big part of his hair, but there’s definitely improvement from poor Yani. Now if only I could manage this kind of thing more than once in a blue moon and without physically injuring myself in the process!
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Ok, so I'm working on a new Bendy AU called The Ink Machine: Rise of Bendy, or just the Rise of Bendy AU. It's a sci-fi AU. Science fiction is my favorite genre and I haven't seen any sci-fi AUs yet, so why not? It's going to be full of futuristic weapons and designs, you know, like you do in sci-fi. Here are the thoughts I have on the AU so far. These are just ideas that randomly came to mind while contemplating this AU, so they might be a little messy.
• Takes place on a futuristic earth where space travel is possible. Over time, traditional animation becomes a lost art. People believe the reason Joey Drew Studios shut down was because he refused to move on with the times. The Studio grows to look more like a factory as time goes on before it eventually "shuts down."
• The toons are alive in this AU. An early version of the Ink Machine was used to bring them to life. The machine did nothing more than bring drawings to life. The toons were close to Henry, especially Bendy, because he drew the sketches used to bring them to life. He is the original creator of Bendy and helped Joey design the other toons.
• Joey uses a modified version of the machine to keep himself alive / make himself immortal. He has to douse himself in the Ink every now and then to keep his youth / powers. The ink allows him to transform at will into "Bendy."
• Joey's "Bendy" form is very powerful and tall. He is able to use the ink like a portal to warp from location to location, like in-game Bendy. Also, like in-game Bendy, he has a twisted leg which makes him slow; a side effect of the transformation process not being perfected.
• Henry left the studio because he was called away to war. He is hearing impaired in his right ear (has a device to help him hear on that side) and scars on the right side of his face. Probably a result of an explosion or something during the war. He also lost his left arm from the forearm down and now has a robotic one, which he keeps covered in a long glove.
• The toons all believe that Henry died in the war. Joey convinced them that he had in order to cut off their connection to their true creator and further manipulate them for his own purposes. He eventually locked them all away in stasis chambers until Henry arrives and frees them. Joey needs the toons for some reason I have yet to determine.
• Despite not being around for the creation of the new machine, all of the controls respond to Henry's touch. His handprint can activate/open anything in the studio, which is how he ends up turning the Ink Machine back on as well as releasing the toons.
• The studio staff are all trapped inside the studio, unable to leave. They are all bound to the machine, transformed against their will. Each respond to their situation differently. Some embrace their new form while others don't. Some have lost their human conscience, like Norman. Each sacrifice further perfected Joey's "Bendy" form. But he is still incomplete.
• Still working out the reason that Joey wants Henry. Leaning more towards the idea that he needs Henry in order to keep himself immortal (Henry being the ultimate sacrifice to keep the machine alive). Though perhaps it's to turn Henry into an ink creature like himself or just pure, delusional revenge for Henry leaving and "ruining" the studio. Whichever way, he doesn't want Henry alive.
• Henry eventually figures out that the "Bendy" monster is Joey. He first encounters "Bendy" when he turns on the machine (still working out how it got turned off in the first place, maybe it was just asleep). He has to fight him off several times while wandering the Studio. Henry has a gun, but he loses it during the first fight with Joey, so he has to resort to the axe the rest of the time he's there.
• The good ending of this AU would be where Henry manages defeat Joey and rescue the toons and free his co-workers.
Still trying to work things out and get something more concrete. Feel free to make suggestions or whatever. :) I'm open to ideas. Can't wait to share more stuff with you guys. I've got quite a few sketches in the works regarding this AU.
#bendy and the ink machine#batim#batim au#bendy#henry batim#batim henry#henry#joey drew#rise of bendy au#drawing#art#my art#sketch#cartoon#video game#video games#dobermutt
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‘getting to know you’ game
qrow x Lifa Hakon
[incomplete]
Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “We could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”
“i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” qrow opens his arms wide and excited. this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.
just for one damn night let him not ruin it.
...
“Do you know this game? The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. I’ll play the fox?”
“…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in qrow’s life, “s’this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”
“You can, but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”
Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly, that hangs out in an open field, and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“this is your dorm and i just came in and ruined everything, didn’t i?”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Lifa stared at the scattered papers and folders that she had organized in a filing system all her own, now in chaos on the floor after a lanky fellow student burst inside and collided with her just as she was going to leave. Her fingers twitched in despair and irritation, before she slowly took a deep breath, turned to face Qrow and grabbed a fistful of his vest. Not violently, not too hard. Just enough to firmly get his attention. “I’ll hide you from whatever it is but you are helping me clean this up. Understood?”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
qrow ruins everything. he does. of course it’s just his luck he picks the room of the pretty girl from the roof to try and duck into.
and that there would be some sort of elaborate shelving unit that definitely didn’t seem standard.
and that his awesome cape would get caught on the stupid doorknob,
and send his gangly limbs flying into said shelves.
and she’d be standing right there.
is it really so bad when he already gets to see her, faces nearly touching, yanking at his clothing…? ah, well. yeah. it is. when all her hard work is in chaos on the floor and he still looks a damn fool.
he faces away, ready for a scolding, ready to be passed off to Raven and the teacher she alerted.
but none of it comes. seriously?
qrow nods in agreement. he’d be shuffling some papers together already if he weren’t, uh, otherwise restrained. “man, i knew you were cool.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“Damned right I’m cool!”
Lifa has lifted him ever so slightly off of his toes before she let him go, realizing she might be a little overzealous. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to see the nice boy from the roof again, even if he was going to see her messy desk…Oh, shit. Family pictures.
Lifa quickly gathered up some papers and threw them onto the desk, taking the moment to snap the frame face down before he got a glimpse of her and her father in full regalia, posing for her fifteenth birthday. All around it were tiny tools, clockwork parts, scraps of metal…
The papers were blueprints, for weapon and armor designs but also a few charcoal sketches of woodland scenes, marked with lines of simplistic colored pencil to represent the presence of evergreen needles and a broad frozen like and a crumbling cabin. Lifa turned to face the mess once more, tightening her jaw. “Ugh, they’re all out of order…what did you do that’s got you on the run, anyway? Hide a toad in someone’s boot?”
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qrow knows she’s hiding something. they’ve all done that frantic scatter at some point when suddenly intrude upon. however, he thinks little of it, lumping similar ultimately unimportant reasons in with those same memories. not that he isn’t curious, of course. but he’s not one to press when she’s already doing him a kindness.
not to mention, what he can see is fascinating enough in itself. landscapes… weapon and gadget ideas… not bad ones, either. the roughness of her hands make more sense if she’s a tinkerer on top of a fighter. really cool.
“heh. somethin’ like that. switched my sister’s tea with some of the weird grasses outside. but forget that. …is all this stuff for real?” he holds up some of the drawings he’s gathered, and points to one of the frozen forests in particular, “i mean, can we go here? is this what ya were talkin’ about last time?”
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“I’m going to wager a guess that you are the younger brother,” Lifa mused, since that sounded like something Runi would absolutely do, with perhaps a more devious twist. As she laid things out to survey and put them back in their place, she smiled softly. It took the edge off the need to laugh.
She glanced back at him, in the middle of lining two see through papers together so one layer of armor completed the other. A method that helped her better plan how to complete the final result. “You mean the lake?” She asked, rubbing the soft paper between her fingers and enjoying the pleasant smell of it and fresh ink. “I mean, yes. The lake is real but the plans are all theoretical, or at least all except the shield. I made that for the Vytal fight…it’s north east of the city, if you really want to go but it’s not exactly a stroll in the park to get there.”
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“by two minutes that she constantly holds over my head,” he says with equal amounts annoyance and affection. he crawls around on the floor, looking for anything that my have snuck beneath furniture while she starts arranging things back in proper order. it takes a second a second for it to click, but he got there. “…you got one too, then?”
stragglers collected, he stands next to her and looks over her work. it’s all very clever. he can see the thought process and enhancements. “okay, Lifa, you got me. i’m impressed.” he crosses arms over his chest and grins, as if he had any authority to be appraising. “most of the students stop after building their own weapon. this is certainly next level.” meaning, it looked like she enjoyed further improving her own equipment, and designing even beyond that. for other people too perhaps?
he shrugs, drums his fingers on his arms, “s’too bad about the lake, then. anythin’ interesting within reach? i do need to avoid Raven for awhile…”
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“A brother? Yes,” Lifa ran her fingers along one frame that she pushed over and lifted it upright again, since it had nothing incriminating to reveal. She missed the northern lights and smells of her home, but couldn’t not miss anything more than her family and her scruffy haired know-it-all little brother.A boy not more than ten, with lots of tawny brown messy hair seated in a wheel chair and seeming like he was about to lob the wrench in his hand at her. “His name is Runi. He’s ten.”
Impressed?
Suspicion lurked in her eyes but she had to remember he didn’t know who she was. Any respect he had, she had earned it by her own merit. She moved a lock of hair behind her ear, since most of the red locks were piled in a hastily woven bun at the back of her head out of her eyes so she could work. “Thank you, that’s– that means a lot…My brother and I’ve always made these sorts of things together. He’s the brain, I’m the hands.”
Lifa looked around the room, before she inched over to her bunk and grabbed her rucksack from under it. “Don’t be disappointed, we could go, if you’re willing to hike for a bit and be ready for a scrap if there’s Grimm or wolves. Or bears. Or really, really angry owls. It’s worth the trip and it’s the perfect time of day to start the journey! It’ll be dark by the time we get to the lake and that’s the best time to be there.”
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one tidbit more of personal information reveals itself, then. her brother has wings of beautiful feathers, even if his body doesn’t seem like it can make very good use of them. that makes Lifa half faunus. which changes absolutely nothing of qrow’s opinion, but is interesting to know.
“heh, that makes sense. i remember your hands,” qrow winks, waits just a beat. “Runi looks just s’cool as you,” now he’s intentionally laying it on thick, but the undertone of appreciation for family weaves into the flattery anyway. he’d die for Raven, kill for Raven, almost and has, respectively, and he trusts the same from her. they acquired their weapons separately, but have gone through many a process side by side. he can’t imagine ever not having her there. he opens his mouth to ask if it’s hard for her to be here without him, but stops, and only nods in acknowledgement. maybe that’s too personal. maybe he’s wrong when she’s moved on from the subject so quickly. maybe he shouldn’t make her think of that kind of thing and ruin the mood for basically attempting to ask her on a date.
…or she could make the offer and already be grabbing her things. honestly, she’s adorable. “i asked for adventure, didn’t i?” he opens his arms wide and excited, “gimme a tick to grab Harbinger and let my team lead know i’ll be out again. i’ll meet you in the courtyard.”
this could all go terribly, terribly wrong for him at any time, and probably will. it always does. but for once, he thinks just maybe it might be fun enough to be worth it.
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“My hands?” She blinked and looked down at them, noticing the scars around knuckles that nicked edges and hot surfaces when she was too in the moment to be careful and didn’t notice her injury until much later. By the time she looked back up at him, some of her freckles had faded under a new blush. Is he…? No. No way.
But at the mention of adventure, she smiled the tiniest bit and began pulling her blanket off the bed, rolling the handmade quilt up tight and shoving it into her pack along with a few snacks she pulled from her desk drawer. “Harbinger? That’s very fitting, for a boy named for the crow. I’ll get Forsvarer and Utholdnet. See you there!”
By the time she got to the courtyard, she had redone her hair in a more casual style, braided around the top in a pretty manner but tied off loosely at the bottom so it trailed down her back. Snow was slowly falling and Lifa was just making sure her oil lantern was secure to her pack side, her eyes darting around for Qrow’s presence.
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he sneaks in the shadows, in all the darkness of his namesake and skills, just for fun. he sees Lifa, notices the charm in literally letting her hair down, and also suddenly feels severely under-packed with only Harbinger and a blanket roll strapped to his back for the occasion, but he’s always traveled light. qrow is used to finding what he needs where he goes, or simply going without. …or losing things, or having them be more trouble than they’re worth… he doesn’t give himself time to dwell, pursues further in his game of how close he can get before she senses him, eventually stepping into the light slightly to the side and behind her.
“ready to go?”
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Lifa turns towards him and with her lopsided grin, she pulls her deer skin hood up, lined with white fur, and nods. “Ready and eager.” And seeming none too surprised at his sudden presence. Things lurking in the shadows? Child’s play for her.
Lifa leads him through busy city streets, knowing the way to her destination easily as she had been there frequently enough to have it memorized. It was quite a trek through civilization alone, so she passed the time on their way to the border with the only chatter she could think of. “So what sort of weapon is Harbinger? A sword? You seem like a swordsman.” Weapons. The first subject that came to mind. “One handed, if I had to guess.”
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well, he tried. good practice, anyway. at least she doesn’t rub the lack of surprise terribly in his face. admittedly, he’d be disappointed if other students were as easy targets as any old passerby.
and he has one more piece of information about her skills for the tournament. qrow plans to hold onto his secrets as long as he can. this is almost immediately tested, even in the middle of qrow’s wide red eyes trying to take in the city of atlas. everything is steely and it feels like rain-washed glare even on a sunny day. it’s not the most comfortable or familiar of environments, sterile, almost, but it has its own beauty.
he lets his head lull to the side, smirking, lifting an accusatory brow, “Sunshine, you’re really just gonna straight up ask a guy how he handles his sword?” a crude twist of implication, but he’s a teenage boy with adventuring and a pretty redhead on his mind. he turns to start walking sideways, and flips up his cape to reveal the longsword in its entirety. he lets that answer for itself, and even though the small rig of gears could easily suggest to someone with Lifa’s engineering skills that there’s more going on, he says nothing else further. they can geek out after the fights. “…mostly one-handed. buuuut there’s also a lotta things i like using two for.”
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Was the architecture impressive? Yes. Did Lifa like it? No. It lacked something personal and homey for her, no personal connection or familiarity for her to appreciate other than the engineering perspective. When they finally passed the city into the snowy fields, she breathed a deep breath of relief and took it all in, the open horizon caressing something in her soul and reminding it that it was alright.
“Well– yes. How else would I learn about your method of combat?” Lifa looked at him quizzically, even tilted her head to the side in a manner so innocent that it was hard to tell if she was messing with him or really didn’t get it.
At his show of weaponry, Lifa her flexed arm in the sleeve of plate that covered from the shoulder to the fingers in a gauntlet and all at once, it showered down to knit into plate sections and spiraled out around the back of her hand to form a heavy circle shield, meaning the sleeve couldn’t be light either. “Interesting you forgo a shield. I was always taught if you have to choose between a blade or shield, take the shield. Did you fight before the academy?”
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a grin returns all the wider when he looks to Lifa again. qrow has seen and done enough playing dumb to know pure innocence at face value. faking it lacked the curiosity clearly on display. oh boy, what is he getting into. trying to get into.
… calm down, qrow. when leading flirtations fall flat anyway, it’s time to simply join the conversation. he lets his cape fall to drape along his back once more, but keeps his hands at the back of his head and laces fingers together, elbows happily raised while he walks and thinks.
“well, mosta the time i find that nothin’ ‘learns’ ya better’n actually trading a few blows instead’a talkin’ about it. but your team made it t’the next round too, right? so we got more of that comin’ up.”
he watches the deployment of her equipment, more impressed by how smoothly it executed in both inner workings and user experience than by the piece itself. his gaze follows along up her arm for eye contact once more, offering a serious expression, “been fightin’ all my life in one way or another. …an’ i was taught if you need a shield, ya ain’t fast or clever enough.”
well, and Harbinger is wide enough to block shots as well as any shield if positioned right, but again, she can find that out for herself. “… so the people who taught ya were more the defensive type, huh?”
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“Indeed. We fight well together, but that’s about all we do together.” Was that bitterness in her voice? Maybe. Scorned by those she was chosen to lead for all her time spent away from home, for the first time in her young life, was something that she couldn’t help but stew over.
Lifa lifted her shield slightly to look over the runes she had painstakingly engraved around its rim and took comfort in its familiar presence, like an old mentor showing her the way. “That may be true, but words still have their merit…The shield is a symbolic choice. Almost all of our warriors use them.” The crunch of snow was the only noise for a moment, as Lifa absently rubbed the shoulder of her shield arm, recalling one of many scars she wasn’t quick enough to avoid.
“Ever since I can remember, Grimm clawed at our gates. I didn’t want to hide behind the barricade and hope someone else kept my family safe. I wanted to be one of the shields protecting them. Hence…” and she lifted it with a tired smile, feeling her point was made, as she gestured her fingers around the runes and translated them. “ ‘Fight because you love what is behind you, not for the hatred of the enemy before you.’ If you’re using a shield to hide, you’re dead or worse; useless. But fret not, I also have an ax to take the limbs off any Beowulf too bold for its own good.”
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finally, all the scenery hits qrow. trees stand taller than he’s ever seen sprawling in more packed patterns. the air freshens, the sounds quiet, save for their footsteps and Lifa telling her story. he realizes quickly that his boots are not made for this kind of snow, but at least he has steady feet, most of the time. Lifa acts confident in the direction they are headed, and he’s glad.
lips scrunch into a pout at her obvious resentment, but he doesn’t push it. they differ there, too. everything the tribe did, they did together. even when physically separated, each group was a cog in the wheel of the same goal. survival. and survival when they had no gates.
she has his full attention when she starts talking about being a protector. “that’s… all very noble.”
he’s staring at her, nearly in wonder, while lost in his own head at the same time. another difference. he and Raven came not with hatred nor love in their hearts. simply to learn to kill. because that was their place. their job. maybe it could fall into the category of loving the ‘family’ that would be behind him, but. did he? did he really love any of them besides Raven, who would always be by side? he shakes his head, covers the gesture with a chuckle at her last comment.
“i bet you would. much as i’d like to, i hope i don’t have t’see that today. …so where is all the ‘we’ and ‘our’, anyway? besides ‘not atlas city’, i mean. sounds like the kinda place that’d have a name.”
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“I’m grateful you think so,” Lifa turned her face towards his and smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up with it. He was a good listener or perhaps he was just waiting for her to stop talking…No, she believed the first thought. He had that sharpness to his gaze that said he didn’t give his attention to anything he didn’t want to and that was something she quite liked about him already.
Lifa walked strangely in the snow. Toe heel, toe heel, toe heel. Piercing the icy surface carefully with the point of her boot so her foot slid into the powder almost silently.
But as she noticed the way her was looking at her, with all that garnet intensity, Lifa for once felt compelled to turn her own gaze away and that was not something she did lightly. With her free hand, she reached above to run her fingers along the lush green needles above. “Of course it has a name, it’s just not one people in Atlas respect much. As for if we’ll meet any Grimm…Hush for a few minutes and I’ll be able to tell you.”
Was she purposely dodging the question? Perhaps.
As they ventured deeper into the wood, she slowed down and turned her face up to the treetops before lifting her hands to her mouth and emitting a high, pure series of sung notes. It echoed high into the air and Lifa gestured for him to wait.
Distantly, there was the flutter of wings and chatter of birds in response. Some even emerged from the branches to investigate them with curious dark eyes and Lifa smiled and pointed to them, “See? No Grimm close by.”
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when she stops holding the connection of their smiles, he does too. he’s nothing if not observant, watching her feet instead. an attempt at walking the same way shifts balance, and he has to continue looking down. the snow gets thicker and thicker as told by how much the rocks and underbrush becomes buried. she wasn’t kidding about it being a hike.
if not observant, then call him too curious for his own good. he looks back at her with a quizzical lift to his features. had Lifa just answered the question, qrow could have been satisfied. skirting around it made it a far, far more interesting topic. he’ll drop it, but now he’d have to dig and find out not only what the name is, but why she wouldn’t want to say. surely someone around the school would know.
speaking of dropping, somewhere between the new footwork, the shifted attention, trying to bring up an argument about being hushed when he was already quiet, and likely his damn curse, his carefully stepping feet slip right out from under him when she holds her hand out for a halt; he falls right to his ass with a grunt.
which, maybe, is a good thing, because he’s rather glad to already be floored while trying to process the sound she makes. Somewhere between singing and an animal call, a captivating, otherworldly sound that’s of such a pitch it almost hurts his ears, and then echoes back softly from every surface for what seems like miles. the animals nearby even respond.
his jaw hangs open, and his eyes fill with disbelief, and his hands hold himself upright in the snow, clutching as if he might just fall through the ground because everything suddenly became a crazy dream. he had no idea humans were even capable of making such beautiful noises with nothing but their raw voice.
and then she turns to him like what she’d just done was part and parcel of any other day. the grimm are currently the least of his worries. she keeps getting more beautiful and magical by the minute, and he might just be getting in over his head, but for better or worse that’s never really stopped him. but he really does hope she’s going to offer some sort of explanation for all that.
seriously, who is this girl and where did she come from?
“………”
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“Qrow!” Lifa exclaimed when she found him up to his waist in snow, like a fawn that had misjudged its next few steps and was waiting for its better-knowing mother to come dig him out. She didn’t mean to laugh at his expense, truly, but his looked so dumbfounded by the circumstances, wide eyed and mouth agape, she had to let a tiny giggle win. “Comfortable down there?”
She reached down and grabbed him by the back of his jacket with a firm grip. One good pull and she lifted him straight out of the snow, his feet cleared the ground and she gave him a slight shake to dust him off (or perhaps to be comical) before she set him back down on his feet. She hardly grunted with the effort. “Joke as I may, you should really step carefully. It would dampen the mood if you break an ankle and I have to piggy-back you all the way home.”
Lifa didn’t give him much time to recover but she was certain he could shake off the astonishment and fall into step. She smirked to herself as she continued forward, taking smug satisfaction before she brought her hand up to her mouth again and without warning, belted out that call once more, reverberating from her throat with a rich vibrato. It was like the forest swallowed it up and breathed it bigger into what should be possible for a small girl to make.
She didn’t stop walking or even look at him, as she gestured vaguely in the air with one hand and tapped a branch so snow showered down on them both. “It’s called kulning, if you’re wondering.”
On their horizon, the sky was growing a dark indigo color and the first pinpricks of starlight were making themselves known and with the glare of sunset, Lifa could see far ahead the blinding line of white as it reflected on a large body of ice.
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no. no qrow is not comfortable stuffed into the snow, but at least the chill along his back matches the chill down the inside of his spine that her voice had just given him. she’s laughing, and that’s better than the alternative.
he pouts when she plucks him from the snow. she’s strong - he knew that from the way she tugged on him the other day. and earlier today. she really did like the lifting and the tugging, huh? but even though she’s strong, his legs and arms pull in like he’s some kitten lifted by the scruff, as if consolidating his mass might make it easier to hold.
it really couldn’t get more embarrassing.
and he really shouldn’t have thought that, because then it did. she’s not laughing anymore.
“yeah, i know,” he says in a harsh mutter. he knows it would dampen the mood. it always does. he always does. he’s been afraid this whole time, trying to convince himself it would be okay, but now she fully admits it. and it all has nothing to do with his steps.
he almost feels better, letting him self sink into that singing sound again, to let it carry him away maybe to come back more spirited, but then face and shoulders scrunch as more snow invades his space and melts into his clothes. rude. he loves snow on a landscape, but finds it’s not as pleasant all caught in the entirety of his clothes now, and slowly seeping into his person.
“kulning,” he repeats, making the effort to show he’s still listening, but unable to hide the quickly waning amusement. his head hangs too low to enjoy the sunset.
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He had sombered as quickly as a cloud’s shadow passed over a plain and Lifa wondered if it was her doing. Something she did? Said? Had she made a terrible social misstep again and spoiled everything? Maybe he didn’t like her singing. That had to be it. Why did she ever sing in front of people? Stupid, she thought as she twisted the end of her braid around her fingers and muttered, “Kind of annoying, I know.” more at herself than anything.
But she wouldn’t let him see her affected. She urged her steps to have purpose and to carry her steadily forward to their goal again, her back straight and eyes pointed forward attentively. Expression set to be impenetrable, as so well trained it was to be. She was looking for something, anything to change the subject to something he felt comfortable with and then she spotted it. As they neared the frozen lake in sight, Lifa reached to her pack and slid out her hatchet. She hefted it once in the air and when it landed in her palm again, she hurled it off to their right.
The blade sank deep into a fallen tree that was leaned sadly over a snowdrift and some stones. Lifa jogged up and hammed the back of the blade once with her shield edge to drive it deeper, before she levered the handle and the wood splintered loudly to reveal the core.
A few more solid whacks and Lifa pried a chunk loose and held it up to him victoriously. “I’m sure you know, but a dead tree’s middle is the best dry wood you can find in snow and rain. Help me harvest it? We’ll need a fire to last. If you don’t want to dull your sword blade, I have a hatchet you can borrow.”
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he is still paying attention. he hears Lifa, and watches her lips move. “the safety lectures? yeah a little, tch.” blunt, but honest. as if to prove a point to himself, her, and the whole world, he pumps out a little kick at the next snow drift they pass, even shaking the scooped up chunks free from his boot, all while keeping his footing just fine. tonight, it’s Raven he hears in his head, calling him a moody broody little brother.
that cloud lingers and settles over them both. Lifa trains her gaze forward and with a purpose, so qrow hangs back by a few steps in silent follow, taking and offering some space. although, voicing his complaint, and letting loose his mini tantrum, he does feel a little better. he distracts himself the rest of the way studying those soft reddish braids again. the weave looks familiar, but the patterns are new. he could figure it out. probably. now he can’t get rid of the urge to play with her hair.
he’s supposed to be sight seeing but between his own misery and her, he can’t seem to stay focused on more than immediate surroundings. they stop moving again, and this time he’s prepared for… anything. the wield and throw of a hatchet only makes his shoulders square for a second, because he assumes there’s some sort of enemy target.
and when he figures out it’s only a log, he’s unsure if she’s just having fun or showing off. quickly getting to work and requesting he do the same doesn’t really clarify. well, at least chopping away at some stuff would blow off the rest of all his internalized steam. “yeah, okay.” hands remove from pockets, “i’ll take the hatchet. best to use the tool intended for the job, right?”
for now, he takes the first log and sets to the side to start a pile. finally, he finds a smile once more, “got any work songs to sing t’go with that forest call? i can pay it back once we get the fire goin’.” is that how it went for her too? trading entertainment for entertainment and hospitality. but qrow always had an easier time of it along with the rhythm of flames.
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“No, I meant my…” Lifa swiveled around sharply to stare at him, surprised he had missed her meaning and her hair swung over her shoulder as she did. But she saw the expression on his face and left it alone. Maybe it’s just wounded male pride after all. Thirty second cycle and he’ll be over it.
She took the twin and tossed it gently in his direction, trusting he could catch it by the handle but she didn’t look to see if he did. If he didn’t, it would fall short just in front of his toes into the snow. Lifa set to work prying more wood free, intending to go in silence and just hope once she showed him the lake, she could make things better but then he asked.
Lifa rested her fingers against the engravings of the blade, remembering the time she carved them with her own hand and the tune she hummed with the grind of metal. “Only if you pay it back,” she relented.
So she chopped, stacked and wrapped the bundle in time to a gentle but comforting melody.
“I know a place we can go,
No one has been there and no one will know,
There it is quiet, forget all the violence
We’ve tried so hard to endure…”
Lifa took a cord from the outside pocket of her bag and fastened her dense firewood bundle to it before she swung it onto her back and passed him a second one to wrap his own, finding a small smile again as she blinked snowflakes from her eyelashes.
“So come with me dear,
The bright city hum hurts my ears.
Sigh with the trees
We could be free.
Oh, I know a place we could go.”
With the last note on her tongue, she turned and began to walk. Over snow. And then onto the ice. “I’m tired of fear. Grasping for safe, familiar. You are like me, oh, could we leave?”
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qrow catches it easily. not that she’d have any reason whatsoever to trust his reflexes at this point. and she didn’t even watch when it worked. oh well. he already knows he’s missed some things, because he always manages to in his sour moods. he spins the hatchet in his hand, feeling the weight and balance of it, appreciating the design and craftsmanship. it is clearly a weapon, but he’s allowed to use it as a tool. to him, that is quite the sign of trust.
he takes comfort in knowing this has still been an adventure and it isn’t over. and that there will soon be a fire. a warm, dry fire. (he tries to ignore all the ways he could further screw it up.)
what she sings is not a burly, rhythmic work song as he thought, with a pounding beat to chop to, but instead something as lovely as the kulning, but softer. soothing. and he doesn’t wonder if the lyrics are intentionally chosen. between the song given, and Lifa’s own patterns, he finds a timing to work alongside, but almost feels guilty to interrupt with hatchet hacks and wood splitting.
he pretends the pieces are grimm. fears. doubts. he keeps controlled, skilled, and absolutely decimates them in perfect little chunks. he can even smile back when he proudly carries his own stack and accepts the cord.
but when he tries to tie everything up, one hunk wriggles out and drops into snow. he sighs and slumps his head once more, but she’s still singing, and somehow even though she’s turned away and walking forward he can picture her turning her head and singing that last bit right at him, and now he knows it’s intentional, and he’s not going to ruin it. she is like him. and qrow likes her.
just for one damn night let him not ruin it.
he swallows hard as she steps out onto a slippery surface. but she is so sweet to spend time with him, sing for him, put up with him at all. he will try not to be afraid for her. he follows. he lifts his head and ignores the ice and finally takes in more than immediate surroundings. everything looks just like the picture, more or less. it has a solemn magnificence in the dusk, but he bet it’s looks absolutely breathtaking when the sunlight hits just right.
he looks gazes through a few more trees, “hey, that’s the cabin up ahead, huh?”
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Night had come. There was the last faded violet tones at the bottom of the sky between tree trunks and shadows, and then the day was finally asleep and the stars were making themselves known. Lifa walked with even, short steps on the slick ice, covered here and there with thin patches of snow blown across the surface by the wind. Luckily, the thick treeline kept the worst of it at bay.
Lifa followed his eyes, as she steadily headed towards the middle of the ice and now that it was truly dark, she took a small lantern from her pack’s side and sparked it aflame to give them a small circle of amber light to travel by. “Sure is. It was just two and a half walls when I started at the academy. I cut some new logs and packed in some sod to make it a little homier…Sometimes I just come out here and stay the night. Then I climb back through my dorm window before daylight. Y’know, normal girl stuff.”
She flashed him another crooked smile, strained and self deprecating.
The lake didn’t take all that long to cross, but by the time they did, it was pitch black except for tiny pricks of stars and Lifa’s lantern. The night of a new moon gave very little light to be refracted by the ice crystals. She wants to get him to the cabin quickly, to a warm hearth and show him all the things she had brought to try to create a lovely night, to show him the otherworldly beauty she adored about her homeland.
She wanted to have someone see why she was doing all of this. It was for no gesture of power or attempt to be noticed, no whimsical notion of a naive princess acted upon because no one could tell her no. Was it so hard to see she loved this world? And that was something to fight for? That was where her royalty, if such a thing could be defined, derived from? Not entitlement, but being honored with the chance to help that which she governed.
No naïve princess am I, but you don’t even know that.
Lifa took a chain from under her coat collar, produced a key and stopped at the cabin door to unlock it and let him inside.
Every wall was covered in intricate wooden carvings, although there were empty patches or patterns still in the process of being finished. There was a bed of animal furs, some equipment to fish, hunt or cook, but otherwise it was quite simplistic. But best of all, there was a functional fireplace and chimney.
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qrow more or less scuffles across the ice, but it works. forever used to slipping up and catching himself up, he is. if he tries not to think about it too hard or care too much, his feet find themselves more naturally.
“you built it? …scratch that, ya snuck out to build it?” Lifa would only find the beadiest of little red rascal eyes with matching crookedness when she turned to look. (even besides the fact that her freckled face is even prettier in the lantern glow and star-studded snowlight).
“man, i got no idea what normal girl stuff really is, but tha’s what it should be, if ya ask me. i c’n pitch a tent pretty good, but we were never’n one spot long enough for anything like a real cabin.”
freedom. that’s what he’s here for. he doesn’t know any better, and doesn’t want much better either. there’s too much world to stay all cooped up or tied down. he loves the world too. more and more the notion of protecting it for true as a huntsman grows on him. and going home to the tribe seems so - small.
although four walls sounds pretty good right about now, for a bit, to warm up and refresh.
…and apparently be wowed by a whole new landscape that has nothing to do with land. a quick scan of the room takes in all the cozy furnishings. a bed covered in animal furs seems just a little too perfect and has his mind spiraling in far more pleasant directions than all the prior self-derision.
but ultimately all the little carvings on the door frame distract tactile desires and attention. fingers trace dips and ridges and grooves, eyes follow patterns. none of her drawings could have prepared him for this, not even the engineering ones had this much detail. connecting the two, he’s not terribly surprised, but still finds himself repeating with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “damn! you. built. this…? …in not even two years?”
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“Like I said, it was already partially there, probably used to be an ice fisher’s hut but it was abandoned for a bit. I just built over the old foundation, cut new logs and all.” Lifa brushed off the effort as if it wasn’t weeks of work, maybe a little flustered by his evident astonishment. Was it that impressive to him? The girl dropped her pack near the hearth, where a moderate stack of birch wood rested and set to work on getting a fire going.
She knelt down close to the stack of tinder and kindling, taking the blade of her hatchet and striking the flint on the metal at a steady pace to shower sparks of it. It took a few tries, while he explored the images of stars, trees, elk and more she had created over her time at the academy. But the three largest were birds of different kinds. An eagle, an owl and a raven.
The sparks caught and Lifa ducked her head down to blow gently on the curls of smoke. A flame sprung up and she sat back with a grin of pride, quickly feeding it before it ate through the starter. “Yes, Qrow, I built it.” She confirmed again, but with much more confidence. Maybe it was feeding her ego a bit.
Lifa dragged her pack onto her lap and opened it, starting to set the contents on the floor. A tin of food, a bottle of something, a board game, a small cooking pot. “A small cabin is maybe a month of work with fair weather but how about to take off your shoes and get your toes warm again before I get into the logistics of it? And bring the furs over, we can get comfy while we wait.”
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he had no concept of time for such a thing. especially a thing filled with so much art. time passes slowly when he reaches the birds. big, beautiful ones, and regal looking. it seemed even art and atlesian legends favored ravens over crows. they’re still all three beautiful.
he hears the logs stack into place and the sharp burst of metal on flint. he knew how to start a fire, but just as well she handled it. he wouldn’t want to burn this lovely place down after Lifa worked so hard on it. when the flames reach a dull roar and Lifa’s sounding more pleased, he makes his way over.
“i knew you were cool,” he says for the second time that day, with a wink.
sweet stars a warm fire, yes!
his shoes are already kicked off by the time she says so. in short order, followed by socks, and pants and… once she’s set up her supplies, he’s stripped down to burgundy boxers, hung his clothes from the mantle to dry, and laid down on his back, basking like a cat - a lithe, sinewy cat with very taut and toned abs and legs - in the fire’s glow and warmth of the wood beneath him - dry and pulling away moisture from clammy skin.
“oh furs?” a gruff mutter considers it, “…okay, inna minute.”
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“You haven’t even begun to find out, pretty boy.” Lifa was occupied with opening the tin of food for them, full of shortbread cookies, small chopped pieces of some sort of smoked sausage, apple pieces dipped in caramel and a few other odds and ends like candied pecans and dried pieces of fruit. As she set the pot in place over the fire and uncorked the bottle with a pop! Lifa put a little packet of spices in with a golden liquid and left it to slowly warm.
She turned back around to ask, “Do you like venis– ancestors above me!”
He’s practically naked. How did he get so undressed so quickly? How did she not notice? Why couldn’t she stop staring? Her eyes, round as coins, were just wandering over the planes of his shoulders and collar bones, how the firelight pooled in shadows or ivory glows on his skin, turning him into something of an intricate oil painting. She kind of wondered if–
No! You are not wondering anything! You are a sovereign and huntress!
All at once, Lifa resurrected her melted brain and stood up, marched across to the bed and grabbed a reindeer skin. Without an ounce of grace, she tossed it over him. “You won’t warm up like that.” she said quickly, completely unaware that all of the freckles on her cheeks were almost invisible under how red they were.
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he’s blissfully letting the cold seep away from his bones, watching Lifa unpack more goodies than he thought could possibly fit in one tin. his mouth waters in a way it hasn’t since the best cook at the bandit camp had her rotation. this took some serious planning, which Lifa must have done all in one afternoon, because he’d only just picked a destination earlier in the day. no wonder she’s a team leader.
for all indecent thoughts which had crossed qrow’s mind on the way here, and indecent hopes still drifting in his head, the fact that baring so much skin could itself cross the lines of decency never even occurred to him. he had found not everyone in the kingdoms had the same openness he grew up with, but that’s why he left the boxers on! but then Lifa stares, and flushes, and he remembers his earlier considerations of how innocent she must be.
and all of a sudden he’s frowning from beneath a fur hide, decidedly colder from its spot in the cold air cabin than the heat coming from the hearth. not to mention the sight of beautiful blooming rosy cheeks having been stolen away and replaced with dead animal. momentarily.
“whaaat?” qrow digs his hands around until he finds an edge, and plunks his head out from beneath the cover, but respects her wishes of keeping the rest in place over his body. not an ounce of shame sits upon his features, but rather, quite a silly grin.
“never seen human skin before, Lifa? not even a communal bath or anythin’ back home?”
maybe people in colder climates weren’t so inclined to be naked to the elements all that often. well, he’s dug himself this deep. he might as well keep going. if he’s going to ruin things, at least he can start doing it fabulously. although, having traveled all the way out here now, she’s kinda stuck with him.
even more of his teeth start to show, “so. …am i still pretty?”
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Lifa groaned loudly and sat down by the fire, burying her face in her hands before dragging them down her cheeks and giving him a scathing look. Not truly hostile, just irritated that he was poking her buttons. “Baths? No. We have public saunas but I don’t participate. It would be improper for me and in fact, most of the time they’re restricted to men and women being separ– why am I even answering this question?” she tossed her hands in the air and set back to setting up the game board.
It looked like a checker board, except more in a cross fashion, forming four avenues and there were a great deal many pieces. Smooth stones painted with a white goose on top and one painted with an amber fox.
It was getting warmer with her layers on, so Lifa undid the clasps of her fur wrap and laid it aside, relieved with it gone. The fire was steadily heating the cabin’s interior and her sleeved tunic was plenty warm, considering it was such fine wool.
Lifa toyed the end of her braid in her fingers with a pouty expression, her brows furrowed and jaw clenched. Her own form of bashfulness. “I am thinking of a word for you right now and it is not pretty. Do you know this game? she demanded the last question and held up the fox piece to show him.
Her entire right side was bathed in the fire light, now that it had begun to consume whole logs and her hair seemed to draw the light in and emanate it on its own, like the glow of a candle. The other side of her was shadowed, as though she were still standing on the ice.
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riling people up always made information slip. improper - for her specifically. qrow definitely tucks that little note away. she answers because he’s genuinely interested on top of being a smart ass, but Lifa seems set on changing the subject, so he lets her. he also knows better than to press too many buttons of someone who just laid out a bunch of delicious looking food.
now that he is dry and the air is warm, and they are both safe as it gets, and he can even relax a little - his stomach lets loose a loud growl beneath fur cover. but he dutifully tries to keep his attention on everything she’s setting out next, rather than the smells from the snacks, or what that word she’s thinking of might be, or the adorable expression he finally earns in reaction to his flirting - glowing in the firelight. teasing him in so many ways, this girl…
“uh…” he sits up, pulling arms loose from his hide blanket, and using them to tuck the rest into something of a tartan sash by sitting on ends or letting them drape over one shoulder. curious eyes glance over the board and pieces, and while he can find elements of many things he’s played in the past, the general combination doesn’t look familiar. a hint of anxiety spikes again.
“can’t say i do. t’be honest, looks like the kinda thing i wouldn’t be allowed near. me and, um, stuff with a lotta little pieces don’t really get along.”
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Lifa popped a piece of apple between her teeth and savored the tart and sweet on her tongue, as she settled down crosslegged and comfortable by the fire. As she chewed, she wiped a bit of melted caramel off her bottom lip and ran her tongue over her thumb, stopping to nibble on her nail in thought while she moved some of Qrow’s gear a little closer to the fire so the toes of his shoes would dry through.
“You can’t be worse than me, I’ll flip the board if I get too upset about losing and spend all night angry I have to pick it all up again.” she smirked at him, although she was completely honest. She would do it. “So let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. It’s an easy enough game, Qrow, I brought it from home to try to get my team mates to play it but, uh…anyway. One of us controls the birds, the other is the fox.”
She moved a few bird pieces around the fox to demonstrate, “The goal is to trap the fox where it can’t escape or eat one of the birds. If there’s no space behind a bird, it can’t be eaten but if there is, the fox can jump over and gobble it up. If there’s not enough birds left to trap it, fox wins. I just thought it would be a fun way to pass the time while we wait for the show. I’ll play the fox?”
Lifa rolled the game piece over her fingers smoothly, back and forth, like a coin or card. The last roll, she bounced it off her thumb and caught it in her palm deftly, waiting for his answer with an expression akin to hopefulness. A hope that he wouldn’t turn her down flat like her team did.
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waiting until someone else started on the food is about all the etiquette qrow could actually pull from what had been crammed in his head so far, so he’s grateful to be surrounded by a picnic of familiar finger foods. he shoves a whole sausage and a few pieces of the dried fruit into his mouth and manages to chew with his mouth closed as Lifa fusses with more tasty smelling things on the fire.
yet again, she helps distract and settle over-stimulated nerves in demonstrating her own brand of messy eating and managing to make burnt sugar spilling over somehow attractive, but maybe his head just runs away with him again. she admits to making a mess of the game, too, and that definitely must have resulted in a losing some pieces in the past. well, as long as none of this is too important to her…
she speaks with the same dismissive disappointment Summer had when trying to convince Raven to spar with her their first few months. team leaders have it hard, huh?
he had come here for adventure, not games, but with his clothes still drying, food to eat, and all that same spark of light in her eyes emphasized by the fire’s glow, he figures there are worse ways to kill time.
“sure. i’ll try a round.” less secrets of strategy need be kept with minor pastimes. he mutters aloud, “…so better for the birds to work in pairs.” a universal truth in his life.
focused red gaze moves from the board to her face, back to grinning and apparently emboldened by warmth and the idea that she seriously has no issue moving along in all these planned intricacies with him in little but a blanket, “so’s this mean i get t’call ya a fox now, since you said it first?”
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“Seems you’ve already caught on to one of the many lessons this game has to teach,” Lifa set her piece down on the board with a sharp clack, leaning forward with her chin in one palm and her brow furrowed in focus. They followed every position on the board, calculating routes of both evasion and attack. Oh yes, it has a great deal of hidden meaning…she didn’t catch on to the one he was insinuating or at least not to it’s true theme.
Lifa rolled her eyes, jumping her game piece over one of his and claiming the devoured bird for her side. “Red hair, red fox. I haven’t heard that one before.” Sarcasm, of course. She had heard all manner of nicknames and jokes about her vibrant locks and that didn’t even cover the silly superstitions her own people insisted it meant. Favored by the gods, born to shed blood, born to die young. Shit like that. But all in all, his veiled flirting was a hit and miss. “You can but I’ll be calling you Scare-Qrow if you do.”
The fire spat and she leaned over to look inside the pot, which was now generating a very enticing, mouth watering aroma. Thank gods, it’s ready. Lifa took the two cups she had pulled from her pack and lifted the hot handle with her gloved hand, pouring the drink into each like molten translucent gold. Hot spiced mead; the real taste of home. The first sip ran like slow, gentle fire down her throat and seemed to set her aglow from inside with its taste, hot honey tickling her mouth delightfully.
Lifa closed her eyes for a moment to savor it and all the memories with it. “You know, it’s traditional for my homelands huntsmen in training to play this game. It teaches team work and sacrifice. I mostly ended up getting the pieces chucked at my head by my brother or smacked with the board by my mentor for being a brat…It’s nice to play it again, though, so— thank you. You’re pretty nice to a girl you’ve known less than a day. Nicer than most people at this Academy.”
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any strategies specific to this game elude him, but he makes his own assessment of the board. he projects his own experiences on top of it, mixed with the training from school. he focuses on moving the front line of birds towards their rear partners while fanning out. pairs, then small groups so pairs could cover for each other, in as many directions as the number of pieces allowed.
“nah, just foxy,” he states plainly without even looking up from the board to impress flirtation or explain what is perhaps cultural connotation, he seeks only to clarify any lack of allusion to color, to diffuse insult. “an’ i’ve been called worse. heh,” now he looks up, amusement rounding and raising his cheeks.
he grew up with his own share of superstitions thrust upon him. but here Lifa takes a sign of bad luck and changes it to something a bit silly that hangs out in an open field and is meant to protect… “kinda like that one actually.”
he hears and smells the pot too, had been wondering what treat she had for him next as he downs a few more of the nibbles laid out. recognition of the scent almost finds him, but the thought that a pot likely held soup distracted from the truth. he takes the cup and it reminds him of the cider, and his mind inches ever so closer to an answer. ultimately, the first sip finally reveals it. a brand new spice mix hits the front and sides of his tongue, while the honey hits the back, and the alcohol burns in a slow, syrup motion down the back of his throat. mead!
sugar crystals melt and prickle along inner linings and he smiles even wider, recalling their conversation on the roof, “you remembered! damn… this puts my two tiny whiskey bottles t’shame. might’s’well be muddy rain water in comparison.” forget even pulling them from his pouch now. something from his own stash is all he could manage without buyer covers here in atlas. no need for lesser when a whole pot of mead between them would be more than enough for a good time.
he listens, sipping often at the cup. it’s way too hot, but equally way too delicious to care. it’s good to know playing games seems to go about the same way for most teachers and siblings. he moves another of his pieces, fingers lingering and rocking it in hesitant thought at her last words.
“yeah, well. thanks f’bringin’ me t’such a cool place.” qrow remembers himself and lets go before it cracks or pushes through the board, or something else stupid. his voice shrinks, “most people don’t ev’n want me around this long. an’�� t’be honest i’m still gettin’ usedta nice bein’ a compliment.” he puffs up his chest, willing some manner of pride back through humor - in letting out derisive air through a crooked and scrunched expression, “though i guess i shouldn’t be su’prised t’hear that when y’live with alla these atlas stuffies. …what about your team? y’get along with them alright?”
he kinda figured all the teams worked it out to work together one way or another, but, he looks down at all these birds and one lone fox piece, and he wonders.
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“I thought you might,” His subtle bashfulness and smile drew her eye to his features again magnetically. He had a sharp wit, a cold edge but there was a softness there that made her feel like she was being shown something precious, like this secluded and protected place of her own. She became distracted watching his long fingers move across the board and in a moment, she realized he was rapidly approaching victory.
Lifa tried to snap out of it by taking a drink but it didn’t do anything whatsoever to pull her out of the warm ease she’d found. Complacency was eroding at her competitiveness, which was a very new situation for her. Lifa looked up at him in a snap motion, her eyes flashing in the same manner an animal might whip their head around and perk their ears when alerted of something.
She washed questions down with another drink and gestured to him with her cup, “Well, I’m not most people. I’ll have you know I’m enjoying my time with you. It’s straight up jovial in this creepy cabin in the woods.”
Lone fox indeed.
Lifa, in all her boldness and liberty taking ways, found that fluttering wisp of shyness again and wrapped herself in it like a gossamer curtain. She gazed around the carvings, pretending for a moment it was the walls of somewhere back home, walls of no kind like these in Atlas. “They are professional, if they absolutely have to be. But I’ll always be the mountain savage in their eyes. Simple. Barbaric. Always deserving less, me and all my people.”
Lifa skipped her piece over one of Qrow’s, promptly claiming another avian life. “But it’s alright. They can reduce me in their eyes until they go blind with the effort…I won’t grant their scorn any governance over myself. I know my worth.”
I know my worth. She repeated it to herself, even as she fought to believe it.
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qrow feels it. he feels it all when he drops his guard like this. his mind engaged, throat tingling with alcohol, belly full, a pretty someone happy in his company, means he eases into uncommon happiness right with Lifa, she’s not wrong. short-lived. rare, so rare that it doesn’t surprise him at all when the sunny girl suddenly turns to shotgun fire and his eyes blast open too. his gaze flits around to follow, over both shoulders and behind him, those bangs she so liked to tease over flying in all directions, blanket bunching coming loose to fall lower on his frame. what had he done now?
he expects to see something in flames, a carving collapsing, the cauldron bubbling over, but nothing. nothing so far. no, his semblance didn’t spark it, something he said must have hit a nerve. another gulp of mead attempts to calm his own.
he doesn’t even look back to the board yet; still listening instead. the least he can do.
it doesn’t hurt how much she has a way with words when she’s upset, apparently. it almost sounds like she’s giving a speech from some high and mighty ledge.
…all her people? that seemed an odd way to phrase it. something more tucked away for later.
he knows the look of someone pulling themselves together by thin threads. qrow and Raven so practiced at the art they could practically weave a tapestry of false security between them. Lifa’s pride glows like gold from the stern set jaw of her face. all the wildest images of undressing her that still simmer in his head couldn’t match the layers which peel away and leave her bare right now.
bird pieces on the same side of the board as the fox fall back in tactical retreat to regroup. it may look cowardly, but qrow doesn’t like loosing so many pieces. a belief in minimizing casualties never gained him much favor in the tribe, but he can play this game his own way. meanwhile, qrow himself scooches closer to Lifa once finished with his move, lying a gentle hand on her closest knee.
“hey,” rugged voice itself shrugs. what can he possibly say to that? to someone he barely knows? “…if you’re a mountain savage in atlas, then i’m a forest one in vale.”
not how to compliment someone. not even close to the best expression of himself, finding words and courage to do so remains a weak point. a shallow attempt at cheer his best bid to offer.
“speakin’ of,” touch removes as quickly as placed. clothes most certainly dry by now, he slides himself back towards the fire and pulls his pants back on beneath the blanket. (and a button catches, and the inner lining of hide tears, because there it is now, but he’s just not going to mention it and make sure the frustrated growl he lets out sounds like it’s from the awkwardness of tugging trousers on while sitting on the floor), “…ahem. don’t i still owe ya a song?”
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His small but meaningful efforts to reach her were noticed. His words draw a smile of a girl remembering that yes, there is someone here who likes her, who doesn’t look down his nose at her and wish her gone as quickly as possible. She’s seen. And what a terrifying strategy of war that was, sliding off pieces of armor and lowering her weapon baring hand to stand close to a fire that only burns when disrespected.
His hand startles her smile. Lifa didn’t know how to interpret it, the gesture was so utterly audacious of him that she had to remind herself that it could be just barely defined as treason, if facts were stretched. All her life, she was raised on a pedestal whilst kneeling in pious servitude, having to always walk the line between an acolyte and an idol. But in a single gently red hot touch, he reminded her that none of those things were in this cabin now.
This boy was all equal parts mysterious, smart mouthed and utterly tender. What a way to make her head foggy and her cheeks flush for a few moments when she realized her leg felt cold now that his palm was away and she wanted it back.
Was her heart going to jump out and do a dance it was clearly gearing to do?
Lifa’s lips split into her lopsided grin and she promptly made herself comfortable among their blankets, stretching out on her stomach and propping her chin in one hand to peer at him expectantly through her eyelashes, feet raised lazily in the air. A rather flattering view of certain…curves. “You most certainly do and I am all ears.” she declared, eager for him to keep his end of the bargain.
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good. great. fantastic. maybe he could complete this while outrunning his next slip up of semblance. he downs the last dregs of his drink and pushes it all to the back of his mind, pulling forward instead the memories of bonfire revelry he grew up with at least weekly.
even if qrow had any idea of the standard which Lifa carries in her head, he holds little affection for authority, and far less regard for its rules - demonstrated in no greater way than how he decides for himself that pants make him decent enough, and finally lets furs fall to move around freely.
anyway, for his people, putting too many barriers between one’s body and the flames carrying tribute to the sky is what’s nearly blasphemous.
he finds a sturdy wooden footstool and sets it before the hearth. usual seating would place him looking into the fire to watch a flickering dance and let it focus and guide his beat, but tonight a far hotter view demands his attention on the opposite side. he chooses to cross legs and sit between burning logs and a makeshift drum with his back to the glow. shadows shift along his skin, and likewise darkened eyes openly drag over Lifa’s form; one brow raises in appreciation of long, thick layers draping in more revealing ways, wildfire locks flowing loose around her shoulders, and posture so eager and attentive.
with a head toss to rustle hair in her direction for some hype of what’s about to come, he’ll count it success if he can half match the show she gives him just lying there.
the song demands something of a primal nature, and she makes it too easy for him to call forth.
with no accompaniment or other instruments available, he’ll have to make do with keeping it simple. open palms strike the edge of the stool to make sharp sounds. after that, one hand forms a fist to summon a richer, deeper sound from the center. then, both.
♫ ♫
pat, pat
pat, pat
bam, bam, bam, bam, bam
bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat, bam, pat…
to keep up with the rhythm of drumming, his body begins to rock, throwing controlled energy into the force of each beat. qrow tightens his belly taut like a drum itself to let foreign lyrics follow in gruff, gutteral chants bouncing from deep in his chest to vibrate in his throat and release with huffed air and hisses. the closest to singing the fry of his voice lets him get.
qrow’s heard it enough times to repeat, though clueless of any translation.
Нэг л хун их л гунигтай
Ижлээ хайн тэмүүлэв гэнэ
Эргэн тойронд хэрэн хэсэж
Хайртай хосоо олов гэнэ
Оройтож олдсон тэр л хайранд
Умбан наадан жаргав гэнэ
Орчлон дэлхийг мартан дурлаж
Олон хоногийг элээв гэнэ
Үртэй болсноо ижилдээ дуулган
Үүрд хамт байхаа амлав гэнэ
Өсөж торнисон нуурандаа гэрлэж…
♫ ♫
#* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive *#* i gave you my life = past *
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Process and wip images for A House That Holds Long Limbs (Part 8)
Previous process and wip documentation: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Parts 6 and 7
Read the pages here: Part 8 (full complete version will be linked from YYH North Bound master post)
I personally love exploring character dynamics and character interaction! It's definitely what I tend to focus on in comics and stories. Plus you get to draw lots of closeups of people's faces and have a lot of fun with expressions. And that's what Part 8 is full of.
IN THIS EDITION, after the usual script and thumbnails, I'll take a bit of time to talk about expressions and characterization (my thoughts on Raizen and Hokushin specifically, but also some general thoughts on how I approach writing characters and character interactions). More details of some of the panels from part 8 so you can see the faces better!
Script and thumbnails
(If you look closely at the top of pg 2, you can see the page behind was where I started drawing my random dream sequence hahahah)
It’s always kind of funny to look back at the script and see my rushed typing (or texting on my phone, since I’m often doing this on mobile...) - odd typos and dangling/incomplete thoughts like ”my blodd” (lol).
Part 8 was one of the first sequences conceived in the development of this story. As a result, the script and the thumbnails both line up very closely to the final, because I’d already been thinking about it for so long and playing the scene out repeatedly in my head. I had a very concrete sense of how I wanted to direct it, unlike many of the action sequences from previous parts. The main areas I struggled with were historical details (the karaginu was originally labelled “tarp” in the script as a placeholder until I decided what it would be), and the biggest pagination change was probably moving Raizen’s “Maybe you just didn’t take enough off lol!” to the previous page so that Hokushin’s (literal) punchline would be at the beginning of the next.
Expressions
I have a huuuuge soft spot for subtle expressions - the kind where just a bit of extra line or texture around the eyes or the mouth, plus the dialogue or context of the scene, adds nuance to an expression. Especially ones that otherwise can read as relatively neutral. Even a very simple expression that’s just dots for eyes and straight lines for the upper/lower lids and eyebrows can have a lot of variation in how you interpret them, simply based on context and slight adjustments. Here are some examples with Raizen, where his face is super basic:
A: pretending nothing is wrong, calmly answering question
B: pleased with self for being smart - clearly a happer expression than A
C: similar to A, chillaxing and answering question
D: no big smiling mouth so he looks more like he’s focused on intensely sniffing the air
E: same as B basically, but a bigger smile of “everything’s fine!” (when you read the text)
F: extra thickness for his upper lid gives the sense that he’s in the middle of his casual sexy/chivalrous how ya doin’ expression
G: ... which changes in this panel to be more a realization (“oh shit I’m on fire”)
Actually, Raizen and Hokushin are both pretty difficult face types for me, being more “mature” looking male faces with stronger features/jawlines and narrower eyes. Hokushin especially has been challenging because his design has really low eyebrows which result in a default glare. Togashi still manages to make him fairly expressive and not look like he's glowering all the time. With my more limited art skill and lack of confidence, I tend to soften his expressions by really laying on the top line of his eye (this sounds like I'm putting mascara on him or something lmao), and also adjusting the size of his pupils (within reason or it starts to look even less like how I draw him normally, which is a big problem since his shaved head is a defining aspect of his series character design so he already looks pretty different). Here are some comparisons of his face - bearing in mind I had to keep his eyes wide open because of the seals in the story:
A: crying/relief
B: this one here is supposed to be a bit miserable/self-loathing because he really didn’t think Raizen was going to look for him
C: shock, unexpected
D: thinking + “ugh plan B”
E: worried/apologetic and then “OOF/URK”
F and G: a progression to show the differences in rendering the eye. First is a bit angry because he’s realizing where all the blood for the seals came from, then he notices Raizen’s hands, and G is that example of softened expression (more lines on the top eye, larger pupil) to show how bad he feels about Raizen’s injury.
One last thought on expressions. They can easily lose their nuance when inking (the slightest shift to a line can change the expression completely), and especially for someone like me who has unsteady hands it can be a bit of a nightmare. The nice thing about ballpoints is that they can retain a bit of the pencil sketch quality, which helped me freak out less when inking the last page with Hokushin’s glare. Here’s a comparison of the progress:
Though this particular expression isn’t that subtle, you can still see some differences as the drawing gets built up. When the pencil lines are gone and the drawing gets rendered in bw only, a lot of shading is lost. The messy lines can be interpreted more flexibly by your brain since they’re less defined and you haven’t “committed”, so the final version looks and feels less expressive. (This is why a lot of artists prefer their sketches to the finished piece, myself included...)
Characterization
This will get very specific to this comic, obviously, but hopefully my approach (and biases haha) will come through. With something like a fancomic, there are obviously existing expectations around the characters, but the benefit of working with these guys is that they’re not as prominent in the story or the fandom, so I feel more comfortable playing around and filling in the gaps. (This is probably why I like minor characters so much.)
In the case of Raizen and Hokushin, we know these two have a close relationship and history only through assumption and insinuation. We never see them interacting directly in the series at all. Actually, we don't see Raizen interact with anyone except Yusuke in non-flashback sequences (aside from the kudakusushi. In the anime, more scenes were added with his estranged friends, mostly their fond memories of him beating them up lmao). But it's very clear that they're extremely important to each other. Hokushin obviously speaks of his king in an exceedingly respectful fashion. Meanwhile, Hokushin is actually the last name Raizen says before he dies - his second last line, to Yusuke, is "Take care of Hokushin and the others" - or in my Taiwanese edition, "I leave Hokushin and the others to you". (Lol “the others”. Also I need to draw a comic about this at some point.)
Despite this zero actual interaction, it's still extremely easy to imagine it because their characters are so clearly defined. In fact, they're both such consistent archetypes with enough particular quirks that they practically write themselves. So it wasn't difficult to extrapolate and imagine much younger versions of them, and how they may have interacted if they had only just met, which is the foundation of North Bound.
Archetypes and stereotypes walk a fine line together, but they do serve as really useful building blocks for sketching characters quickly. This is why I really enjoy symbolic systems like astrology (or some of the the modern incarnations - personality assessment frameworks) because of all the character sketching it helps you do really quickly. Astrology in particular because, without even caring about birth dates or charts or whether astrology is "real" or not, the basic idea of a sign and its bucket of traits and symbols is simply a great resource when you want fleshed out character archetypes to build off of. I talked a bit about this in my Lenormand post, but I think of zodiac signs as one of the many games humans have developed in our attempts to categorize our world into recognizable patterns, and since we've been at it for thousands of years, there's a wealth of reference material, scenarios, analyses not only of the individual archetypes, but for all sorts of combinations and relationships. Some of it very well-thought out, and some of it just lots of fun to read.
For my purposes, applying this to North Bound, Raizen is basically a Leo. He's dramatic, positive, powerful, passionate, a straight-shooter. Not only does he embody its main traits, he's literally a king (or eventually one in this story, I guess). And he even has a mane, for crying out loud. Meanwhile, Hokushin is a solid depiction of a quintessential Virgo - hardworking, practical, analytical, stoic, kind - and literally the loyal servant that typifies the Virgo paradigm. The Leo/Virgo duo is a classic partnership, and at the point where we meet them in the series, the relationship we can see has stabilized to exactly that. At the same time, there's tons of potential for a hilarious dynamic as well, especially imagining how they got to that point. (If you wanna have a laugh, look up some analyses of Leo and Virgo relationships and you'll see what I mean.) His freakouts next to Raizen's "hahhaa everything's fine!" carry most of the humour (similar to how his freakout at Yusuke's vandalism of the rurimaru stones carried a ton of the humour in that episode lol).
Obviously there are other things that further finetune their characters so that they're more than bland cookie cutter personalities (Raizen's deep thinking about the future of the Demon World, for example, and Hokushin's sense of humour and appreciation/enjoyment of fighting), but in broad brushstrokes, these archetypes work incredibly well, and make it so easy to come up with scenarios and write interaction to the point that I'm now ridiculously behind in actually turning them into comics ahhhhh...
#yu yu hakusho#raizen#hokushin#comics#fanart#process#wip#swearing#profanity#character analysis#character thoughts#expressions#art by Maiji/Mary Huang
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live through pictures
title: live through pictures
rating: g
pairing: kang yuchan x reader
summary: You didn’t have the normal eye for aesthetic. But you still knew when someone looked good. It just so happened that that someone was called ‘Kang Yuchan’. Not that you minded. Oh no, far from it in fact.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] (incomplete)
chapter three: first contact
Eventually, you repeated to yourself as you made your way to the last classroom in the hall.
Of course, that was assuming a) his appearance didn't change overnight, b) he didn't switch cities in the last seventeen or so hours since you saw him, and c) he was already in school.
But you'll think of something. Maybe.
You opened the door, peeking in to scan the room. One sweep, two sweep. ...Nope. He wasn't here either. Onto the third year classes you go.
"Hey." You looked to the side. A boy was staring at you. "You need something?" he asked.
"Someone," you clarified. "But I don't know their name."
He shrugged. "That's tough."
"Right?" You studied him. "Say, you don't happen to know anyone with blond hair, do you?"
He pointed to himself. "Is mine yellow enough?"
"No. You're brunet. It's like straw. Straight. Kinda messy if you look at it from an angle."
"That fits a lot of people, you know."
"Yeah. But oh! He has a sunny smile. And he's good at soccer." Plus, he was taller than the soccer player from yesterday, so... "About yay tall? Super skinny too, but not like, toothpick size or anything."
"Ahhh...ah? Wait. Is he a portable battery? Looks real excitable? A human puppy?"
Your snap turned into a finger gun. "Yes."
He nodded. "Then I know who you're talking about."
"You are a lifesaver." Excited, you bounded over to his desk. "You know where I can find him?"
"He's in this class. He's not here yet but—" Then his eyes slid behind you. "—Never mind. Now he is."
And there, by the door frame, he was.
Inspiration hit you like a truck. You could imagine it: a painting of an anthropomorphic sun's sudden appearance amongst tired students. Life in the presence of devoid emotion. Optimism overcoming resignation. Hope in a valley of darkness.
You'd call it 'Going to Class.'
He looked at the boy, you, then back at the boy. And though his eyes held an unsaid question, he chirped, "Good morning! How are you?"
Your new friend raised his hand in greeting. "Yo. Doing good."
You whispered, "Quick, what's his name?"
"Kang Yuchan," he whispered back.
"Kang Yuchan!" you repeated. His gaze slid to you. "I have a proposition to make! An offer—I'm hoping—you won't refuse!"
If this stranger (a.k.a. you) was giving him strange vibes, he didn't seem to care. He cocked his head and asked, "Do we know each other?"
"No!"
His friend's lips twitched.
Yuchan grinned. "Okay. What is it?"
"I saw you yesterday and your aura drew me in. It was wonderful, like love at first sight."
His eyes widened.
"No, not like that. Get your head out of the gutter." His friend doubled over his desk, hand over his mouth. You could still hear his snickers. "I mean as art. Art! As a muse. Muse! As the model! Of! My dreams!"
"Eh? Am I famous? When did I get a fan club?" Yuchan looked amused. "I'm flattered, thank you! It's like you asked me for my autograph."
You nodded. "I'm a big fan of your face."
"Aw, that's nice of you to say. I think you look great yourself." He cocked his head. "So what would you make me do?"
"Not much. I can just, float around you during lunch time or something. I need to sketch you in your natural habitat."
"Is this for nature show?" he joked. "But sure! I don't mind. I think it'll be fun. As long as show me after you finish, okay?"
"Aye, aye."
"By the way," he said, "could I have the name of my artist?"
"It's [L/N] [Y/N]." You bowed low. "Thank you for agreeing."
"Nice to meet you, [L/N] [Y/N]-ssi. I'm Kang Yuchan." And that smile of his was making you melt. "But I guess you already know."
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What exactly IS Bullet Journalling…and why should anyone care?
Bullet Journalling is an analogue planner ‘system’ created by Ryder Carroll, a digital product designer based in Brooklyn, New York.
You can find out the backstory, as well as the original guidelines, at “Bullet Journal - The analog system for the digital age”, but in a nutshell:
Bullet Journalling is a way of taking planning and organisation back to basics.
This is the official description from Ryder:
“The Bullet Journal is a customizable and forgiving organization system. It can be your to-do list, sketchbook, notebook, and diary, but most likely, it will be all of the above. It will teach you to do more with less”
The basic concept is that you take a notebook (any notebook)…and use it to help you get – and stay – organised, clear and productive.
As solopreneurs, we are not strangers to overwhelm and procrastination. Bullet Journalling is the ONLY system I’ve found to date that truly helps me stay on top of what I’ve got going on, and keeps me moving forward. I attribute this to its simplicity – it’s simple, flexible, and completely practical.
What you need to get started ?
Unlike most other organisational tools or planners, the Bullet Journal requires no expensive or special materials to set up.
All you need is:
~ A good notebook
~ A good pen
And that’s it! That’s all you need to start your own BuJo.
Of course, there are so many other things you can use in your BuJo (such as washi tape and stamps). I cover these further down the post. But all you really need is a notebook and pen, and you’re good to go.
How to choose the PERFECT notebook ?
As you’ll be using your BuJo for probably at least a couple of months (depending on how much you use it), it makes sense to choose a notebook that can stand up to the strains of everyday life.
Size:
Probably the most important thing to think about when it comes to choosing your BuJo notebook is size. I personally find an A5 (half-letter) size notebook is perfect, although I know of others who use letter sized, and others who use Midori (personal) sized notebooks. Size really doesn’t matter – but what does matter is that you choose a size you’re most comfortable with.
Cover:
Another thing you might like to think about is whether you’d prefer a hard or soft cover notebook. I personally prefer a hard cover, as I like to throw my BuJo in my handbag when I head out. With soft covers, I find that the edges are more susceptible to curling and tearing, so I like the protection that a hard cover offers. If you plan on adding pages or sticking things into your BuJo, a soft cover may be more suitable, as there is more give in how much the notebook can expand.
Binding:
Hard-bound, spiral-bound, ring-bound – there are many different types of notebook to choose from. Again, choose something that you feel most comfortable with. I personally prefer a hard-bound book format, as I just love the way it feels! I have tried to incorporate my BuJo into my Filofax, and although it didn’t work for me, I know many people who have done this successfully.
Paper quality:
I would ALWAYS recommend spending just a little more on a quality notebook (and I’ll share my favourites below), as paper thickness and weight can make all the difference. I personally hate bleeding and shadowing, so using good quality paper can stop your ink looking ugly and messy. Experiment with what feels right to you, and remember that this notebook should last you a while, so it makes sense to buy the best quality you can afford.
Paper style:
Most notebooks – especially Moleskines and Leuchtturms – are available in a variety of paper styles: plain, lined, gridded and dotted being the most popular. Gridded and dotted tend to be the most versatile, as they’re extremely handy for tracking and sketching. If you don’t really plan on tracking anything in your BuJo, lined may be a better option for you. I personally use dotted.
How to choose the PERFECT pen ?
Pens are a BIG deal in the BuJo community! Some people are extremely particular about which pens they stick to for their BuJo (and I must admit…there is something strangely sexy about gliding a fountain pen over crisp white paper).
The way to choose the PERFECT pen for your BuJo is to experiment. Try lots of different types to see what works for you, and what you feel most comfortable with.
I personally love my Pilot Frixion pens. These are erasable pens (perfect for crazy creatives like me who change their minds every five seconds 😉 ). The only downside to Frixion pens, however, is that if left in the heat the ink disappears. You can bring it back, but the ink isn’t archival quality (which may not be so great if you’re planning on keeping your journals to reflect on in years to come).
Many people swear by Staedtlers, and others love the Sharpie Pen.
Again – experiment, and try to choose something that flows freely and easily. I have a page at the back of my BuJo that I call my ‘scratchpad’ – when I want to try out a new pen, I doodle on that page to get a feel for how the pen writes, and how much ink bleed there is.
Now its the most important point that is how to set up bullet journal...
When it comes to setting up your BuJo for the first time, I highly recommend that you watch Ryder’s video to get a grasp of the basics. There are so many ‘adapted’ Bullet Journal systems out there that it really does help to see the system in its native form. You can then adapt it from there as you need to.
In addition to watching Ryder’s video, here are some examples from my own BuJo that will hopefully inspire you to get yours up and running.
INDEX PAGE: I must admit, I don’t use the Index page as much as I probably should, but it’s still really useful to have as a reference. I personally prefer to identify my key pages using tabs (I’ll talk about those later in the post), however having an Index means you can easily find certain pages. In my first BuJos, I used to enter all of my pages into the Index; now, I just enter important things I want to be able to reference quickly. I don’t generally index daily pages.
YEAR AT A GLANCE: The first page of my BuJo isn’t something that’s included in Ryder’s original setup, however I find it invaluable for quick reference. I have a ‘year at a glance’ page, where I can quickly look up dates for the whole of 2016. I was inspired to do this page by an image I found on Pinterest, though I can’t find it now. If you have seen it, please let me know so I can attribute it!
FUTURE LOG: One of the challenges with the Bullet Journalling system has always been future planning. As it emphasises logging and planning ‘as you go’, traditionally there wasn’t much accommodation for future plans to be made. Ryder has recently updated the system to make it easier to log future events, and he suggests that your first ‘spread’ is your ‘Future Log’. This is simply a convenient place to log any events that you want to make a note of that are coming up in the following months.
RUNNING TO-DO LIST: After my Illumination tracker, I have a running to-do list. I didn’t really need two pages for this list, as it’s just general things I know I need to get done at some point. The GREAT thing about the Bullet Journal is that there is no wasted space – you just turn to the next blank page and fill it with whatever you need to. In this case, I have a reference for what counts towards my five-a-day.
WEEKLY SPREADS: This is where I think I have quite radically departed from the original Bullet Journal system. In general, Bullet Journals have a spread for the month, and then you start a new page for each day, logging your tasks and notes as you go. These are your daily spreads.
I personally much prefer to have my week on a spread, because I like to think in terms of what I have on each week.
The whole point of Bullet Journalling is that it’s meant to make your life easier, and for me…I just can’t do without my week at a glance. Some people create just one weekly spread on a Sunday for the week ahead on the next available double spread of pages. I personally like to create all the weeks of the month in one go, all together. I like the fact that my weekly pages are together, and laying them all out in just one sitting is so much easier than creating one a week.
My weekly spreads are probably the main thing that I do decorate in my BuJo. I like to give each week a different washi, and I like to use my stamps. I’ve played around with layouts over the years, and I feel like I’m starting to really settle into these now. If you’re looking for some inspiration on weekly layouts, this is a wonderful resource.
MONTHLY TRACKER: There are certain things that I like to track throughout the month, such as medication, diet, and business goals. These objectives tend to change each month, so I don’t have a set list of things I ‘track’ – I just add them in as I feel like it.
That’s about it as far as my setup goes!
The only pages I’ve not shared here are my daily pages. Every day, I start a fresh page with the date, and I write out the things I have to get done that day. This really is more about being conscious of my time, and grounding myself in the day. I do this first thing in the morning, while Poppy is eating her breakfast – that way, when I get back from the school run I’m ready to hit the ground running.
Part of the original Bullet Journal system is ‘Migration’. This is where you take any incomplete tasks and migrate them over to a new day or month. I personally don’t migrate my tasks all the time – I just start a blank page each morning, and centre myself in what I know I need to do.
Sometimes, my daily pages become filled with notes, or brainstorm pages. I free-flow these pages, and don’t think about presentation at all. Whatever’s on my mind, I simply jot down on my daily page. If it’s something I want to come back to, I’ll put a page flag to remind me that this was something worth revisiting.
How to set up your Bullet Journal for the first time...
Hopefully you’re feeling all inspired and fired up to create YOUR own Bullet Journal.
I’ve told you everything you need to get started (all two items – a notebook and pen!), but when you’re sat holding your new notebook in your hands and open it up to the first blank page…you may FREEZE, and not know what to do first.
Here’s the thing about Bullet Journalling:
It’s not meant to be perfect!
It doesn’t matter how much of a perfectionist you are – learning to let go when it comes to planning and keeping track of your life is seriously the best move you could ever make.
There are going to be things in your journal that don’t work for you…and that’s fine. As you keep using the system, you’ll soon figure out what works and what doesn’t – it’s all about trial and error.
With that said, it can still feel ridiculously daunting to make that first move in a new notebook.
My advice would be to watch Ryder’s video , you can even check the bullet journaling video from buzzfeed, and just start practising the basics (if it helps, tell yourself that this first notebook is just an experiment – no pressure!).
Set up your first BuJo as per Ryder’s instructions, and just notice what helps you, and what doesn’t. The more open you are to experimentation, the more quickly you’ll find your BuJo groove.
Within a short space of time, you’ll be rapid logging like a pro. It does take a bit of practice, but don’t get overwhelmed by doing it ‘right’. Find out what your style is by trying out new things, and don’t be afraid to make it your own 🙂
#bullet journal#bullet journalling#student#study#studyhard#ib#myp#dp#experi#set up#studyblr#studygram#supportthestudyblr
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Apologies and Storytime
Hey guys! *waves tiredly from my cubicle office at home*
So, first of all, I wanted to give you guys a huge apology for pretty much being absent for three months. I’ve been having a rough three months due to work, career fairs, wonderful opportunities, and legal matters (that’s the story, hold on). I know my tumblr is small, but I still feel like I owed it to you guys by saying I am aware I’ve been gone awhile, I don’t keep up with this tumblr like I should, and I plan to do better. So look forward to some new stuff, as well as some sketch dumps of incomplete projects that I hope you guys will like~
Now, on to the story
I would like to put up a disclaimer that I am not calling anyone out, or badmouthing anyone, I am sharing this story so that my fellow artists might be able to learn from it. And here is the lesson to be learned.
Make. Contracts.
I know that sounds like a big, messy, unnecessary thing but trust me, when you are freelancing or running a small business like I am, you need to be making invoices and contracts. Why? Because people tend to have a habit of screwing you over, even if they don’t mean to.
Last year I was hired by a local to illustrate her children’s book. It was great! I’m officially a published illustrator! I had my name and art out there in an actual book! My mom went nuts, she bought like, ten, and sent it to family and friends~
I thought things were great. The lady I was working with was super nice and had even plugged into our contract that I was going to work with her for the whole series. A long term job, I was so happy!
I should have seen the red flags...
First red flag, was that she let me handle the contract myself. This wasn’t entirely a bad thing, as I put in things that she agreed to that really saved my hide later. But the fact that she didn’t know much about illustration contracts, and publishing in general (she self published) should have clued me in.
We had a summer long hiatus where she couldn’t pay me. She was not financially stable and she was honestly going to try and publish this book right now? She didn’t have anything planned. She wasn’t well organized or prepared. The should have been the second flag.
The third, was when she tried to convince me to do five more illustrations for her, unpaid, so she could publish the book before Christmas. She promised to pay me later. I said no, because it was against our contract agreement and I honestly didn’t trust her to pay me for like, half a year or more considering how many financial troubles she had that she had told me about. I tried to make a deal with her, tried to go for something more half and half if she wanted this done quickly.
She said no. She would publish the book as is, make it work. She didn’t want to pay me anymore. I should have realized something was up.
But then the book was out, published, and I was so happy. Admittedly, the book isn’t amazing, but everyone loved my art! I just so happy to have my art out there.
Then, a month later, I notice she had posted the due date for her next book on facebook. She had never contacted me. She told me she would. So, I contacted her, asking her about the second book. She told me, get this, she told me she had HIRED A NEW ILLUSTRATOR.
Due to money problems, she couldn’t afford me anymore. And since I honestly had priced my illustrations at less then HALF what professional book illustrators price there’s at, what kind of message does THAT send you? But you know what, fine, I get it, finances can be a real pain. I contacted her back asking if we could at least talk about it, see if I could work something out with her.
No reply.
I asked her if we could meet to go over the contract. I didn’t care anymore that she wanted to move on but she needed to understand some things about the contract before using a new artist.
No reply.
I try again.
No reply.
Again.
No. Reply.
So I give up for the moment, figuring that she wouldn’t be stupid enough to break our contract anymore then she already had. I could have taken her to court, but I don’t have that kind of money.
Three weeks later, and she is posting art for the new book. The new illustrator is COPYING my ARTWORK. I was so angry, because in the contract, as we had TALKED OUT IN PERSON, I owned ALL rights to my art. The copyright for the art was IN MY NAME. She had no right to copy it without talking to me, without my permission!
Now, honestly, for all I know she just had no idea what that meant. From what I know about her, she very well just might not have understood what me owning the copyright of the art meant for her. And if that’s so, fine. I sent her a registered letter, that she had to sign for, to ensure she actually received and read my letter. I sent a copy of our contract, and showed her the five different things she was violating. She needed to stop, or pay for the copyright, no if. and. or buts about it.
I got a letter back. She didn’t contact me in any other way. She told me she understood, she told me she was going to change the direction of the book series. Great, fine, that works. Thank you.
But you know what she did next? She took the first book off the market. She decided to start completely over from scratch. I’m sorry, but I don’t care if you are just trying to cover your ass, but you don’t DO THAT. My first book, the first thing I ever illustrated, ever seen published, is off of the market because she couldn’t take the fact that she had messed up, had ROYALLY messed up, and now decided to just scrap EVERYTHING and start over. I’m sorry, I don’t care if you are doing it intentionally or not, I don’t care if you don’t understand what you did, but that is the brattiest thing you could do.
*deep sigh*
Okay, well, that’s off my chest... Rant part over, time for being more serious.
In all honesty, I don’t want to hold this against her. I think she is just the kind of person who likes to avoid conflict and doesn’t like owning up to mistakes. I don’t think she did ANY of this maliciously. But that’s the point. This can happen to you, all of you, and it can be from a rude person, or a nice person. You could work for the nicest of people, and they can STILL screw you over.
Make invoices. Make contracts. Record and document all evidence, document EVERYTHING.
Be good artists, and look out for yourselves as much as you look out for others. The illustrator she hired should have pushed harder to make sure that she owned the copyright. They should have asked if there was a contract, if they could see it. If they are as young as I think they are, I can understand them being naive enough to think the client hiring them has everything taken care of. But you can’t think like that. You can’t assume that. That illustrator would have been in just as much trouble as the author because they were breaking copyright law. End of story.
No really, end of story. I hope you guys were able to learn a little from my life there. Things really are okay, I really am doing well for myself. This was just a small set back in a bigger plan. I hope you guys get to see me go far one day~
~CRome
#artist rants#life story#artist legal stuff#copyright#copyright issues#I tried not to rant but failed#I just really wanted to warn you guys that this can happen#it sucks#but it happens#be prepared
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My journey through a shitty album...
Metallica's St. Anger. For years, I described how much I absolutely fucking hated it, despite the fact that I never actually heard it. So I decided to actually hear it. The whole fucking thing.
*deep breath*
Let's do this...
"Frantic"
The opening track to an album is everything. It (usually) lets the listener know exactly what they're getting for the rest of their audio journey. In that, Frantic succeeds. It lets you know you're drinking a cup of shit. A cup that's an hour and fifteen minutes deep.
The song opens up very confusingly. The guitars are very simplistic. This wouldn't be so bad on its own, because songs like Pantera's "Walk" or Disturbed's "Down with the Sickness" make simple sound great. But here, it's too simple. It sounds like the result of waking someone up from a deep sleep, handing them a guitar and screaming "PLAY SOMETHING METALISH! NOW! RIGHT NOW!" until they did. The way the drums equate almost feels like it was doing its best, but without trying above the guitar's level of effort. It honestly sounds like the music was written by a child. Not just any child; a child that had never actually heard any Metallica. A child that overheard people
talking about Metallica (complete with vocalizing riffs and such) and tried writing what the child thought was a Metallica song based on what those people said.
Lyrically, it's a fucking mess. At first, I gave off this confused "Okayyyyy...". Mostly because you kind of see where they're going, but they fall just short of truly making sense. I'm tempted to say they drop off after "You live it or lie it", or even "My lifestyle determines my deathstyle" *shudder*, but definitively, it's when he actually sings "Fran-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic tock". He tries SO HARD to sell that terrible fucking line. And it's not even like he says it once or twice. No, it's THE SONG'S HOOK! THAT FUCKING POOR EXCUSE OF LYRICAL AFTERBIRTH IS MEANT TO CARRY THE SONG! Amazingly, the embarrassment doesn't end there. Not at all. On top of that, the more he says it, the worse the delivery. I don't know if he's trying to growl or scream it, but it comes out just sounding messy and shameful. I swear, if any other band tried "singing" like that, it would get rejected so quickly. Well, unless the singer had enough money to get the studio to shut the fuck up and call it a successful take.
Ugh. Now I have to take a shit.
"St. Anger"
I'm actually going to start this off on a positive note!
*gasp*, *collapse*
Right? I did that at first, too! Anyhoo, here it is: the video to this is awesome. No, really, go look it up. It's Metallica playing a set for the inmates at San Quentin. It does a good job at looking at the prisoners in a more realistic, down-to-earth light, portraying them as real people who were handed shitty cards in life rather than the scum of society. Plus, the guard makes the band verbally agree to an awesome disclaimer in the beginning of the video, which is a plus.
Okay, no more positives. This song blows. It sounds unfinished. The difference between the verses and the rest of the song is jarring. Hearing the intro just makes you breathe "Uh oh..." under your breath. The drums are obnoxious and overbearing and all the stringed instruments sound half-assed. When it kicks in stronger, it sounds so disorganized, like the stringed instruments are all trying to play over each other in an attempt to be heard over the drums. Then out of nowhere, it switches to what sounds like what was supposed to be an entirely different song. The verses DO NOT match the intro AT ALL.
These fucking lyrics. They're... awful. Just... awful. He repeats the same 3 or 4 lines far too many times. Not only that, each line is either painfully weak or excessively shameful. It all culminates in what is easily one of the absolute worst lines I've ever heard in any metal song I've heard in all my 33 years: "I'm madly in anger with you!". Who fucking thought that would be a good lyric? That's something a person would say if their grasp on the English language was shaky at best. Seriously, if someone didn't know how to say "laundry detergent", but instead said "shampoo for clothes", that type of weak grasp of English would be required to say "I'm madly in anger with you" in serious context.
Fuck this song.
"Some Kind of Monster"
This is the type of song you would only say is good when you wanna be nice to that one person you know who is in that band that really wants you to like them. This whole song is just plain messy. You can tell the people involved have more to offer, but they're just not. This is the first song that actually tries to sound Metallica-y, but it just weighted down by suck and effortlessness.
Instrumentally, this stands a little above the first 2 tracks in the sense that they're not constantly grating. For the most part, they're just meh. But the end of the song is bad. It tries for some top string, nu-metal-ish thing that just falls flat.
The lyrics combine "St. Anger"'s repetition with the cringe you get from "Frantic". Do you know happy I was that no one was around to hear me listen to this? I'd have been less embarrassed to have been caught with my dick in a
stuffed animal.
"Dirty Window"
Not even 5 seconds in, I paused this, facepalmed and asked "What the fuck am I doing?" rhetorically. Immediately, it sounds like that band you humored by saying you liked "Some Kind of Monster" says "Yay! I have another one!"
and you just respond with a resounding "FUUUUUUUUCK!!!"
On YouTube, there is a sketch from the British comedy show A Bit of Frye & Laurie where the two invent a subgenre called "light metal", which they sell as "heavy metal, but without all the weight". "Dirty Window" is the light metal version of a Metallica song. It's so "safe". It's metal suitable for kindergarten.
I am 100% convinced that James Hetfield had no hand in writing these lyrics. I do not believe it. If anyone says otherwise, I will tell them they're lying. There is no way an adult man wrote these. Nevermind the same man who penned "Fade to Black", "Hero of the Day" and "One". You can take their entire discography out of the picture. I am not convinced that an adult man who has fathered children, gotten married, bought a house, gotten a driver's license and pays bills on time wrote the words he sings in this song. Not at all. My daughter, who is currently only 6 years of age, would write these words. Her classmates would write these words. A teenager waking up from a month-long coma would write these words. ANYONE ELSE WOULD FUCKING TRY HARDER!
Luckily, it's the 2nd shortest song on the album. But, we go on to the 2nd longest...
"Invisible Kid"
Whoa... The opening riff... isn't bad? It's not great, but it's certainly the best this album has offered to this point!
Actually, this track features the least-worst music to this point, aside from blatantly stealing from "Frantic" at one point. It fluctuates between being tolerable and decent. You could actually see a crowd getting into it. Not a big crowd, but about 30 or 40 people. The drums still do that annoying snare-love bullshit, but they're not overbearing like in the previous 4 tracks. In fact, I might learn how to play this one day!
Fuck you, Hetfield! The moment you start singing, you ruin everything this song had going! It's like you dropped pubes into my cereal after I watched you yank them out! In his defense, the lyrics don't sound juvenile. Nope, here, they sound emo. Here's an example: "Invisible kid/never see what he did/got stuck where he hid/fallen through the grid". That's just the opening line. It gets worse from there! Fucking worse! Not even in just lyrical content, but also in delivery. What amazes me is that people let this happen. I can only imagine that the people who were helping record this album on the technical side must have felt like the film crew watching George Lucas make The Phantom Menace. They knew they were enabling pure shit but didn't (couldn’t?) stop it. I fucking hate every vocal aspect of this song. Before, the lyrics were childish, so you could go "Haha! Can you believe he said that?". But here, the words are awful, the delivery is awkward and the quality just sinks like a stone the longer the song
continues.
I think the fact that the music is okay makes the whole song far worse.
"My World"
Fuck! Not only does this intro give me flashbacks to "Dirty Window", it's making me realize I already have flashbacks to "Dirty Window" Fuck! Well, actually, the main riff sounds like "St. Anger" with a tad more effort.
Is there a word that means "serviceable, but ignorable"? I'm too lazy to look it up. Either way, that word describes the music. Literally, I just finished listening to the song and I can't fucking remember how it goes. No, really, I paused it right after the song ended, started typing this and I can't remember a damn thing, other than that I don't remember hating it or anything. I know it has "St. Anger" vibes in the beginning, but not through the whole thing.
Well, the lyrics go right back to being childish. I bet you that they're written in crayon, on a piece of construction paper, hanging on a refrigerator by a magnet. But I'd say that this was written by a kid of about 8 or 9 who is starting to really discover swearing, but before they get all X-Box Live about it. It made me facepalm more than once, but brought me close to genuine laughter at its awkward uses of "motherfucker" and "son of a bitch". Mind you, I'm unopposed to vulgarity, but make it feel natural. There's one line that could easily be
misheard as "give mama head", which is this album's unintentional greatest gift to music. Other than that, there's nothing good to be derived from this. It even joins "Frantic" on the Reasons Why James Hetfield Shouldn't Scream list.
"Shoot Me Again"
There are one-word descriptions for these songs. "St. Anger" is incomplete, "My World" is forgettable, etc. "Shoot Me Again" is directionless. The intro alone sounds like pieces of 3 different bad songs. The main riff sounds like Metallica's impression of KoRn. The verses sound like Metallica's impression of Staind.
Even more, if you played each instrument indivually, it sounds like each one is playing its own genre of music. Well, more like its own metal subgenre, but still, like a few different corpses Frankenstein'ed together. At one point, I honestly thought the song ended, so I started typing out my thoughts on the following track, but then it cuts back to "All the shots I taaaaaaake!". If that was supposed to be a breakdown, they need to listen to some Psychostick on how properly breakdown.
The vocals are just dumb. Yeah, they're childish and stuff, but overall, they're dumb and full of needless swearing.
"Sweet Amber"
Oh no. Don't do it. Don't you do it, St. Anger! You're not that good an album! Don't try for a slow, emotional song! Oh... you... listened to me? But then why was the intro all soft and clean? Fuck. Whatever. At least the following riff is okay.
Actually, if I'm not mistaken, this may be the least-worst song on the album. Musically, at least. It's better than "Invisible Kid". I know that's like saying a sunburn is better than an acid burn, but better is still better. Don't get me wrong, it's still pretty bad, but in comparison to what I heard to get here, it's at least tolerable.
But again, the lyrics ruin what was potentially a good song! Fuck the words and fuck the delivery. They're not "Invisible Kid" bad, but they suuuuuuuuuuck.
"The Unnamed Feeling"
Bland. Bland bland bland. The intro to this song is just so BLAND. Fucking emote. You're Metallica. Act like you want the listener to feel something! There is a name for my feeling: it's BOREDOM. Well, I'm bored until it takes a Mudvayne turn. Then I'm confused. Well, Mudvayne without the amazing drums and bass.
Overall, the music stays boring. So. Boring. This is just like "My World" where I can't remember the rhythm to this song AT ALL. It's so forgettable. All I can really recall is that the song just ends. It just drops. That's it.
To Hetfield's credit, these are possibly his "best" lyrics on the whole album. But I used the quotation marks because they're still bad, just not bad enough to make me piss myself in shame & regret. He swears again here, but it actually feels natural, as though it was a natural progression of the song for the f-bombs to reach that point.
"Purify"
Huh. An intro with energy. Dare I say, an impressive intro? No, wait, I'm stupid. It reverts right back into suck territory. Thanks for getting my hopes up...
Metallica doesn't wear nu-metal well. They just don't. Believe me, I actually like some nu-metal, but not this. This just sounds weak. That's all I have. It's weak. Moving on...
Okay, so I'm guessing Hetfield wanted to write lyrics in KoRn's style, but without the crying and the begging for hugs. Yet another song that goes on the Reasons Why James Hetfield Shouldn't Scream list. The lyrics & delivery aren't as overwhelmingly terrible like the rest of the album, but they're not redeemable in any sense of the word. They're just not good.
Thankfully, this is the shortest song on the album. But the next one is the longest *sobs*
"All Within My Hands"
I once started watching The Bourne Supremacy. You know, the one without Matt Damon. I got about 30 minutes into it but stopped once I realized that I asked "What is the point?" after about a dozen times. I felt that exact same feeling after only 1 minute into this song. That's only 1/9 of the total time of the track! I shouldn't feel so checked out so quickly. But I'm powering through this. It's the last track. I'm almost there...
Okay, so the music would probably be more interesting from a different band. If I heard an indie band play it with different lyrics, I'd probably like it. It has energy and power. I even bobbed my head to it once or twice. Shit, I may actually learn this song too one day. Maybe. I have a lot of Zelda music to learn first. Except for the fact that the last note played is so dissonant and awful. It's like kicking someone annoying out of your house, but they take a shit on your floor right before leaving.
I guess Hetfield's approach was to remind everyone the name of the song he was playing, because he repeats it to no end. The delivery is actually pretty good, but the actual words he recorded just suck. I need to listen to this again in the future to count how many times he says the song's name, because it must be at least 50. Honestly, try saying "All Within My Hands" 50 times in a span of 9 minutes. You'll piss yourself off, nevermind anyone else stuck listening to you. At the end of the song, he repeats the word "kill" in a way that made me chuckle. It reminded me of Aqua Teen Hunger Force.
...
HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I'M DONE. I will never do that again. Fuck this album. Seriously, I think that aged me. That 75 minutes felt like 150. I am beyond thankful that they followed this up with Death Magnetic. Could you imagine if this was the last album Metallica ever released? I would be so sad! I would feel so bad for them for the rest of my life. In fact, Death Magnetic just got so much better for me. Knowing they went from St. Shit to a modern masterpiece like Death Magnetic just makes their 2008 (holy shit!) release seem like the sweetest nectar from Mount Olympus.
#Wiggimus#text post#long post#Metallica#St. Anger#album#reviews#random thoughts#metal#nu metal#endurance#sorry for the rant#I've been wanting to post this for a while#1000th post
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