(Commissions available! Running an art for donos charity event for Palestine, Sudan and Congo, more info in my pinned post)
a saw an illustrated aethitic moodboard and haven't been able to stop thinking about how cool that was... so I one upped it with animation XD Hope I did the concept justice!
An au based on @derpyfangirl AI Clavell AU and @k-chips art, where Clavell sticks around in Area Zero on behalf of the profs. Unfortunately the -raidon incident happens, and AI Clavell is unaware of the Paradise Protection Protocol the profs have placed. AKA, they’re watching the artificial replica of their friend be warped by a system of their own design I guess.
I wanted to play around with animating bits of the comic lol. Good fun! More horror vibes.
“We had a gag where Ice King sings one of Marceline’s songs. We need to make-up a reason to justify why they were never in the same episode before for three while seasons”
Y'all want Lunar angst? Sure ya do!
Did a /fun/ challenge where I try to make an animatic in a day(technically less than a day, but that title sounds better.)
Basically it's just, what everything from that one Laes episode + New Lunar fear and anger unlocked
it was pretty goof practice with facial expressions and keyframes
Song: What have I become by lydia the bard
while they dont flash a lot, a warning for flashing lights ^^
For @flashfictionfridayofficial Prompt 221: Spine In A Twist
[Summary: a girl witnesses her friend's strange ability] [cw: mild body horror - mentions of bones cracking & untwisting]
“Oh no,” she whispers softly, looking at the twisted mess in front of her. “This is actually so disturbing.”
“I’m aware,” he grunts back, dry in tone; if she closes her eyes, it’s just like any of their usual banter. She comments, he’s wry. Except for the fact that she can’t possibly close her eyes. She can’t quite look away at all. It’s truly like nothing she’s ever seen. It’ll be seared onto the back of her eyeballs forever.
A sickening crack spears the forest air; she winces, while he lets out a groan closer to relief.
“You’re- going to crouch there and watch?” He paints a stroke of incredulousness around a smaller click, joints shifting back into sockets. “Don’t you think that’s a little- ah- rude?”
“Is it really bothering you?” She doesn’t think she could look away even if she wanted to. It’s like a mangled car crash: horrifying and intensely attention-grabbing. Another twist, another sound. She’s broken people’s bones before and these are the sounds she’s hearing now. She eyes up the spine – the worst contender here – and the impossible angle it’s contorted at.
And yet still he’s placid enough to raise an eyebrow at her.
“You’d not leave even if I told you to, would you?”
“No, not really,” she admits freely. “Anyway. I think it’d be worse if I did. What would I do, just stand behind one of the tree trunks and try to ignore the sounds echoing around? It’d be awkward.”
“It’s awkward,” he pauses for a grunt, a snap as something pops, “right now. I don’t usually let people watch. I’m not entertainment.”
“Trust me, this isn’t entertaining.” Or is it? Like so-called freak shows at the old circuses. Drawn by the abnormality and isn’t that what roots her to the ground, watching in ever growing fascinations and horror?
He shoots her a look; she bites a lip.
“If you really want me to-”
“It’s fine.” Quickly, decisively, and not because there’s another crack hurrying the words out of him like the King’s hunters sent out on a chase. He doesn’t look away – he’s not the type to bow to embarrassment over fondness, to flinch from the implications – so she doesn’t either. He breaks the contact first, if only because of how his neck spasms, bones twitching and shifting.
“Does it hurt?” Maybe right now isn’t the best time to ask, but later she thinks embarrassment will force her to bow, to tuck these personal questions away for fear of prying. A knee joint lets out a sound like thunder on the horizon, right before the rain comes pouring down; his lips form a thin line around gritted teeth.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you’re used to it.” The only first here is her actually seeing it. She’s heard plenty, seen him stagger back from situations that should have had him dead. She’s dug her fingers into the tense, sore parts of his shoulder muscles and now, she thinks she’s seeing his spine untwist itself.
No wonder he’s always so sore.
“A little,” he allows. “It gets- expected, after a while. I – shit – don’t get surprised, at least.”
“Is it easy to converse?” If he says no, she’s going to feel somewhat a jerk, but then again, he’s the one engaging her. Making that choice. He could have told her to fuck off from the first words and she would have, even if it’s been hard. She’d have forced her feet to crawl backwards, because she’s often curious but not enough to piss him off. Not when he’s been through this.
A splitting tree trunk; another set of bones. One and the same, ringing in her ears.
“Surprisingly so.” His fingers jerk, marionettes on strings. His breath catches as something follows in his hips, slowly twisting back around. “Shouldn’t be long now. Then we can finish what we came for.”
“You don’t want to rest first?” She doesn’t think she’s blinked this whole time. Engraving the whole thing, start to finish, on the folds in her brain so she’ll definitely recall this forever. The sounds. The strange wrongness of his form. The heavy sick feeling distant in her stomach.
“After this, the first thing I want to do is make someone pay for it.”
The ghost of a wry smile catches her lips. “Can’t say I blame you.”
A few minutes later, and she can truthfully say she knows what a spine resettling itself sounds like. He sits up – finally – and makes sure his legs are properly oriented in his hip sockets. Then he looks up at her, gaze always so unflinching. There’s no shame, no embarrassment.
Just the usual trust, and a helping of vengeance on the side.
She lifts herself to her feet and holds out a hand.
“Let’s go, now you’re finally done rearranging yourself.”