#what i have learned about watercolors thus far is that it is very easy to overthink/overwork them
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A Heart Of Stone-Chapter 2/36
[Image description: A watercolor illustration of Willow Park from The Owl House holding two golden chanterelle mushrooms to her chest. The image is cropped so it only shows Willow from chin to chest. Willow is a pale-skinned girl with slate-blue hair hanging in a braid over her shoulder. She wears a pale green tank top. Her braid is fastened with a hair elastic the same color as the mushrooms and has several sprays of tiny purple flowers twisted into it. The background behind her is mottled green. ‘O I Forbid Ye’ is written at the bottom of the image in rust-red Gothic calligraphy. End ID.]
Willow Park didn’t believe in ghosts. Not really. She wasn’t prepared to write them off, like, conceptually, especially when her oldest friend wanted so badly to prove that something supernatural actually existed. She just didn’t think about them much when she wasn’t talking to Gus. And she certainly wasn’t scared of them. That would be silly. She was almost fifteen, anyway, and she had more important things to worry about than some weird stories about what lived in the woods down the street.
Which is why it meant absolutely nothing when she walked past the cheerful signs from a development company that no longer existed and climbed the wall that would take her into the Witch’s Wood.
Chapter 2 of my queerplatonic Tam Lin AU is up! And I finally figured out how to do image embeds on AO3! In this chapter: Willow finds some mushrooms, and also a very strange boy.
Read it on AO3 or Start At The Beginning
#the owl house#a heart of stone#scribe writes#scribe art#what i have learned about watercolors thus far is that it is very easy to overthink/overwork them#excited to practice more though!#also: there is so much foraging and ecology talk in this chapter#and i regret nothing#this is just how modern au Willow would be
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Cole Hence
As an attempt to reboot this blog I thought I’d do quick drawings of the main chars with updated appearances (like, how they would appear in my seasons when they’re older, comparing to the art you’ve seen of them as kids/teens on this blog so far) and some character info. I did Cole my boy first in case I’ll lose my inspiration and motivation and never continue these character things `8D I got carried away with this one and spent more time than intended, so the next ones might not be as complicated as this one hmm.. Never mind me playing with watercolor brushes, I just tried to learn how to use them.
Character info under the cut for those who are interested! Ninjago © LEGO; Pokémon © Game Freak, Nintendo, Creatures Inc.; Soileon © me
- Cole is very artistic, and enjoys visual arts the most. He does like dancing for fun too, as long as it happens when and how he wants and no-one tells him how to do it.
- Cole starts selling his art later when he moves out to live on his own after a few years living in the Yang’s temple, where the ninja have their ninja academy and where they live after the Day of Departed episode.
- Cole loves hiking and venturing in the wild. He’s a big fan of wildlife and all animals as well. He takes good care of daily exercising, though he takes it easier when he’s older and doesn’t whip himself as hard as he did in his teenage, and trains more his mind as well as his body. One of his favorite ways of exercising have always been jogging in the wilderness or at least closer to nature.
- With persistent practice, Cole becomes an okay cook, although he remains ever curious and experiments fearlessly new ways of cooking and altering recipes and the results won’t always be great. He’s best at baking. Cakes will always be his passion, but he does watch his diet more carefully the closer his thirties he gets.
- Cole’s mum was a loose, carefree and tough-willed young woman. I don’t have first name for her yet, I wait if they reveal something in Ninjago but if they won’t I’ll probs name her after some gemstone. Her maiden name is Brookstone. She’s not an elemental master herself but Cole inherited his powers from her side.
- Cole’s mum had broken with her family, run away and started working and living on the edge on Ninjago City, where she met Lou. She wasn’t much older than 18-years old and Lou was much older, but they both fell in love with each other, and after a while of dating, they decided to get married. Soon after Cole hatched, it became obvious that the woman wasn’t very keen on family life, and spend more time in her hobbies and in the downtown than with her own son or husband, so Cole was raised up mainly by his dad from the start.
- Lou and Cole’s mum started fighting a lot, and they divorced when Cole was 6-years old. Cole didn’t hear about her ever since, and he didn’t really care to hear about her.
- Thus, Cole doesn’t know she had married again (though she divorced again later) and Cole has two half-sisters he’s not aware of. He also never learned his mother had a little brother, so Cole has no idea he also has an uncle from his mothers side.
- Cole was badly bullied when he was a kid. This triggered a gene in him, that’s common among the people of Pokéninjago. It’s called “berserk gene” and it occurs differently on different people. On Cole, it made him liable to violence and brought up problematic characteristics. You can read more about this from his [character page] and [childhood story].
- As he grows older, he gets better at controlling his anger. He becomes very chill and easy-going as an adult, and he doesn’t even try to appear intentionally cool or tough like he did as a teen. If stress and misfortune keep piling up though, he has trouble keeping his head and can snap at people and experience similar tantrums as before and for example break something in his frustration.
- Because of his bad childhood experiences, Cole is very insecure and withdrawn with strangers, especially people same age and younger as him. He has trouble meeting new people and making friends, unless he’s been backed up by his good old friends. He is okay at dealing with elderly people, but youngsters make him nervous and alerted, even feeling inferior, which then makes him easily defensive and rude.
- He has this problem even as an adult, and when his friends are starting families, he gets kinda lonely because of his troubles with new people.
- Cole is bad at talking about emotional stuff, but he is very compassionate and caring when his berserk gene is not active. This makes him anxious when someone needs emotional support, because he wants to help so badly, but doesn’t know what to say or do. Sometimes all he can offer is his company and perhaps a pat on the back, or even hug when he’s more confident about himself and doesn’t try to pretend a cool, tough guy.
- Cole actually likes kids though, regardless of how children treated him when he was little. He helps his friends by babysitting sometimes when they can’t get Nelson to watch over the kids.
This is all I can remember rn. If you want to know something specific, feel free to send me an ask! I probably forgot to say something.
#cole hence#soileon!Cole#ninjago cole#ninjago#pokémon#crossover#pokéninjago#i had something witty to say#but i'm too tired to remember#i'll remember when it's too late#oh no wait#it was just that now that i have more experience of digital painting#and some knowledge of color theory and all#so when i was colo picking the color's i've previously used for cole#i was like ugh whoa what? why are these colors so saturated this hurts my eyes#ima be clever and mature and dull these down to make them more natural#but then#i did the bg all flashy and colorful#and Cole looked so grey and dull against it#and i realized why my chars are so vibrant#bc i do these crazy elemental flashy things on the characters' backgrounds#yah#ok lol i should either stop typing or put some real tags erh#ninjago au#mycenart#fakemon#black#orange#digital art#err
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When the world caught news the Lucian Prince was finally ready for courtship, dozens of kingdoms and twice as many noble houses sent their sons and daughters to Insomnia, all in hopes of worming their way into royalty and alliances — and all in vain.
Ignis Scientia is the 25th suitor, the 25th Alpha out of hundreds to actually pass the Council’s background checks, but he doesn’t hold much hope or expectations. Yet unlike the whispers that claim the Prince to be a meek and shy little thing, he learns Noctis Lucis Caelum is made of tempered fire and a spark of lightning.
And that’s not even the half of it.
Situational: Marriage proposals or getting permission to court
Pairing: Ignis/Noctis
Rating: G
@ignoctweek
“It shan’t hurt to try, boy,” his aunt had said, patting down the lapels of his suit and neatly tucking the pocket square at his breast. She had given him a quick once-over, turning him this way and that to make sure not a single crease or ball of lint escaped her sharp eye, then let the attendant usher him into the car, sent by the Citadel itself. “Twenty-four ladies and gentlemen turned and gone, but who says you won’t be the one to please him?”
‘The twenty-four who were rejected,’ he hadn't said.
Ignis Scientia sits in the backseat, the partition up and separating his small space and the driver’s — at his request — and he fiddles with the thin metal band on his left middle finger. The black ring is an accomplishment and an infuriating thing all at once. As simple as it is, no gem or jewel aside from the thin line of silver cutting around it, it’s the mark of approval every Alpha across Eos has been salivating for, given to only twenty-four — no, twenty-five individuals thus far. A glimmer of hope, a peak at a distant dream, that the suitor will be the one to win the Prince’s hand.
And yet, it sits just one finger away from where every rejected courter wishes it to be. It’s a mocking thing, teasing with that faint sliver of what would be a black ring adorned with a piece of the Crystal itself, and it may as well burn his finger from where it wraps around. He can feel the faint pulse of magic ingrained into the metalwork, a measurement of authenticity to verify his identity once he passes through the Citadel’s gates, but it feels like a hefty shackle better suited for his wrist instead.
When his parents had suggested he try for the Prince’s hand, he waved it off as a tedious effort he had no time for. The vetting process, the background checks, interviews, all of it a string of paperwork and nonsense he wasn’t privy to. It was a joke when he had said he’d do it only if they could magically do the pre-work for him.
He hadn’t expected his entire family to work through the fine print and bring in their government connections to land him a slot as the next suitor, no signature or interview required.
Ignis knows, in his early days of far-gone youth and blurry times of childhood, he had visited the Citadel exactly twice before, once in a school field trip and once under the guidance of his uncle. (He also knows, his uncle must have had a hand in all this, being in the Council’s ranks and all.) But he remembers them as portraits painted in watercolors, smudged and foggy where they cross and bleed into each other, and not as the towering pillars of stark steel and sharp glass he stands before. He thinks there was a boy involved, something about getting lost in the maze of a modern palace and getting rescued by a child several years younger.
He cranes his head as far back as his neck is willing, shadowing a hand over his eyes and admiring the four towers and the halo of the sun just above them.
It’s intimidating, and though he’s never considered himself one of low-esteem or confidence, he feels his existence a small thing when juxtaposed to the grand scheme of it all. He still doesn’t believe he’ll be the one to win over the Prince’s heart — has no plans to, really, because the weight of royalty has no place in his life — but he’ll try. He hates to put his family’s efforts to waste or toss their name into the dirt for some unsightly display of his character, so at the very least, he’ll humor the fantasy of being lucky number twenty-five.
There’s no fanfare, no special carpet rolled out to meet him, and he follows his guide up and into the Citadel. It’s silent, except for the footsteps that echo off the marble floors and walls, and he tries not to let the grand architecture and careful stares of the guards distract him. When he walks down the aisle into the audience chamber, he expects to see the great King and his son at the throne, flanked by their corresponding Shields and perhaps some Council members. But there’s no one, not a single soul to look down upon him and judge his entire worth with a single glance or quiet snide, no King or Prince to give their approval or lack thereof.
Just as Ignis wonders if they’ve all gotten the date wrong or if some poor attendant got all their schedules mixed, he catches the shake and sigh of his guide.
“Like father, like son,” she mutters in her breath, shoulders going slack for just a moment before straightening out again. In that short window of weakness, she looked like an employee whose work deserved more than her current paygrade. “I think they’re in the greenhouse. This way, please.”
A walk through some corridors and long-winding hallways plus a trip in the elevators is how Ignis finds out the Royal family likes to keep a make-shift greenhouse on one of the upper levels. The corner of the southeast tower is made entirely of glass with just enough steel for structural support, and he tries his hardest to keep to the gravel path and avoid stepping on the overgrowth and crawling leaves.
He also meets both King and Prince in very casual attire and elbows deep in damp soil. King Regis’ white shirt has probably seen better, crisper days and without dirt stains, and Ignis never thought he’d see His Majesty wearing tan cargo shorts surrounded by bags of dirt and half-potted plants.
The same goes to Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum, who wears black sweats and a loose fitting tank top wet with either sweat or water or both, his hair losing whatever styling that’s been done to it. There’s dirt on his cheek, and Ignis has enough sense to not offer his handkerchief.
Ignis had kept an open mind to how their first impressions would go, though he expected at least a formal audience in the throne room, but meeting a literally dirty prince struggling with a trowel and ripping straight through a bag of soil was not a scenario he accounted for. As the bag falls apart and the soil with it, accompanied by an amused King Regis at the expense of his son’s mishap, so does Ignis’ handful of plans on what-if’s and how-to’s.
News outlets and tabloids, despite the exaggerations and far-off conspiracies, hold at least a modicum of truth; every rumor has to start off with some sort of foundation based on fact, after all. The media is a ravenous thing, always looking for the next big scoop, and Prince Noctis had been a treasure trove for the entertainment industry for the past year, ever since His Majesty declared his hand was available for marriage.
An Omega prince, easy for anyone with a sliver of sensibility and a decent amount of charm to woo. Meek and mild, soft and ripe for an Alpha’s taking; a bit shy, but that’s just the allure of a shrinking violet, ready to bloom in all his brilliance once he found his dearest betrothed, they all said. Something of a recluse, ever since the daemon attack that traumatized the poor thing, with only the rare appearance on official holidays and always with his guards at the ready. And whenever Prince Noctis did appear in public, oh how the cameras would shutter, snapping like the ravenous teeth of the paparazzi. Articles would sing with praise of how handsome and fine the young heir had become, or go on tangents on his fair skin “from keeping himself within the Citadel’s safe walls, ever since the tragic daemon attack that almost took our young Prince’s life.”
He was the rendition of the tragic beauty in those popular novels Ignis’ aunts raved about.
Except, looking at him now, this soft boy the world claimed him to be, Ignis thought him anything but. He’s dirty, covered in grime and dust and with an easy grin plastered onto his face, his hair sticking every which way it can with sprinklings of what look to be seeds, and Ignis sees the faint beginnings of tan lines around his shoulders where his tank top doesn’t cover.
The guide clears her throat, earning a quick snap of their eyes, Prince Noctis looking up from his hands where he was salvaging the spilled soil, King Regis from his son.
“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” she says calmly, but Ignis is sure he hears that barest hint of reprimand in her tone. “I present Ignis Scientia.”
On reflex, he places a hand over his chest and bows from the waist up.
“That was today?” both King and Prince say in unison.
Ignis won’t lie, that stings a bit. He didn’t expect fanfare or any grand announcement of his arrival, but to be forgotten so easily… Well, at least he has thick skin.
His guide, though, at least channels some of his sentiments through a huff of exasperation. “ Yes, it was. ”
Ignis straightens up to see Prince Noctis looking not even a fraction guilty, though his father has the decency to appear apologetic — if only just a little. Regis offers his condolences, speaking something of time slipping away and how distractions came into play, but Ignis doesn’t hear much of it with how all his attention zeroes in on the younger Caelum.
By all means, Prince Noctis should be looking more like a labor worker with the dirt and sweat smeared all over him, but there is no denying the charm and fine features he sports; there is something exquisite beneath that layer of grime, a certain allure no luxury beauty cream or high-end perfume could ever hope to replicate. That always belonged to the royal houses of Eos, and it could very well be a testament to his long-running pedigree. Despite the scents of soil and flowers and fertilizer, Ignis can catch the distinct aroma of an Omega — soft but subtle and surprisingly comforting.
Even King Regis, despite the drain of the Crystal and his graying hair, that looks more like finely spun platinum, has aged like fine Tenebraean wine and still looks absolutely regal despite his questionable attire.
Just.
The near predatory gaze Prince Noctis criticizes Ignis with is unnerving. That sharp eye and oppressing aura, the commanding presence that demands and orders with sharp teeth and fire, all belongs to an Alpha and not to an Omega who apparently likes to garden in his free time. (The gardening part makes sense, something out of sprucing up a home, a nod toward domesticity and all that.)
Immediately he thinks his brain must be playing tricks on him. There's another Alpha here, sizing him up and seeing if he's suitable to court the Prince, somewhere hidden within all the green and glass. No way this soft and timid Omega is putting such pressure out, setting him on edge as if a threat lurks just around the corner. But no matter how hard he tries, Ignis can't scent another Alpha out.
He barely catches the last of the King’s rules, the guidelines under which Ignis is allowed to court the Prince.
“…One calendar month. Your room, while not within the same hallway, will be on the same floor as my son’s. Monica will take you to your quarters to familiarize yourself, but you are free to help yourself to whatever amenities afterwards.”
Ignis is sure the “amenities” do not include secret vaults and restricted areas and that there will be guards lurking around every corner to keep eyes on him. He has nothing to hide, though, and no interest in deep dark family secrets to sniff out and sell to the press or hold as blackmail against the King himself.
He hopes he wasn’t caught staring like an arba in headlights and bows once more toward the King, then to the Prince, and utters his sincerest thanks for the opportunity and accommodations.
Yet even as he leaves, the skin of his neck prickles under that same cutting gaze, feeling the threat of broken glass aimed at his turned back and ready to strike at his vital points. He half expects a sword to run itself through him, but nothing ever comes. All he hears is the crinkle of that soil bag and the scrape of a trowel.
His guide — named Monica, it seems — takes him to the elevators once more and they rise a few more levels up. When she drops him off to his assigned room, he wonders where on this floor the Prince must live in but clamps his mouth shut before he has the chance to ask. If he was privy to that information, he’s sure that would have been mentioned. So he shares a word of gratitude to Monica at the door, closes it behind him, and sinks into the oversized armchair by the decorative fireplace.
It's early spring, but he thinks to toss in a few logs and light it up, just to melt the lingering chill of that gaze he still feels. When he strikes the match and coaxes the embers to life, and the goosebumps on his skin have yet to settle, he dares a conjecture: that the reason the twenty-four suitors failed laid not in any shortcomings of their own but in some aspect of the Prince himself.
Ignis spent his first day familiarizing himself with the Citadel, or at least, the few levels above and below him. He never gave much thought to how or why they needed so many floors and four towering skyscrapers to do whatever business they do, but after having caught a glimpse of just what happens within these gilded walls, he has a sort of understanding. Much of the staff, he learned, live within the Citadel — from the maids and cooks to guards and secretaries.
There’s also an entire floor dedicated to just office cubicles. He had immediately pressed for the lobby when his elevator doors opened to reveal the hectic mania of flying documents and screaming office phones and the sound of at least five keyboards breaking simultaneously. It had been a painting of utter chaos and coffee mugs being chucked over dividers and across printing machines, and never faster had Ignis nope’d out of a place before.
So after spending the first day avoiding the Prince, he isn’t surprised when a manservant knocks at his door, delivering an invitation to join His Highness for some light brunch. He accepts, because who is he to refuse royalty?
When he steps inside, a corner room with a fantastic view of the kingdom below, the hairs on his neck go rigid and cold under that familiar pressure. He feels that look again, that oppressive gaze of a lion sizing up a rabbit, and Ignis tries his best to keep his wits about him. His Alpha brain wants to snap back, to curl his lips and bare his fangs right back, to demand his due respect because who dares to size him up and challenge him. But before his instincts go too far, he pummels them back down with a hammer. There’s no other Alpha here, Ignis reminds himself.
Just an Omega prince.
Which, really, isn’t any better. Because Prince Noctis is staring right at him, unflinching and unblinking, his hands waiting neatly in his lap. There’s nothing to read from his expression, as blank and indifferent as it looks; but besides the weight he fills the room with, there is something ominous in his unrelenting watch.
Either Ignis spends too much time grasping at his thoughts or the Prince doesn’t like him just dawdling at the doorway, but whichever it is, it’s enough to get him to speak. “Sit down, don’t just stand there.”
It’s as good as an order as any, but there’s no bite to his tone where Ignis expected one.
He sits across from him, and tries his best at normalcy. “Prince Noctis, thank you for the invitation.”
“It’s the least I could do, especially after yesterday. Like dad said, we lost track of time.”
Prince Noctis finally drops his eyes to survey the dishes spread on the table, much to Ignis’ relief. The tension dissipates as soon as he picks up a fork to push his food around, neatly separating his eggs from the edge of a french toast.
Ignis takes that as his cue to follow, and he cuts his knife through an eggs benedict. They both take their first bites in silence, nothing but quiet chewing and soft clinks of silverware and glass, but he’ll take it over the smothering and suffocating pressure from earlier. (What even is that anyway? Did he somehow manage to piss off His Highness already? Gods.)
Yet he’s the first one to break the silence.. “This sauce is delightful. I wonder if I could weasel the recipe out of the chefs.”
“Oh, so you cook?”
Ignis expected a bored hum of acknowledgment or anything less than even that, so he’s pleasantly surprised to hear the interest in Prince Noctis’ voice. He glances up and sees His Highness looking right at him, and for a brief moment, he expects that same soul-piercing weight to drill right through. This time, there’s nothing but genuine curiosity — no bite or guarded edge accompanying. He also notices the air in the room has gotten lighter.
Huh.
Ignis wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he takes the opportunity for what it is and tries to keep this new flow going. “Yes, though I’m particularly fond of baking.”
“You bake?”
If the Prince looked curious before, he now looks almost impressed. There’s the smallest semblance of a smile peeking out, the corner of his mouth tilting ever so slightly upward, maybe out of amusement. Or out of incredulity. Ignis doesn’t know.
“Yes. It may seem odd. An Alpha who enjoys domestic things like baking. I enjoy learning new recipes, the satisfaction of trying a new dish, the smell of spices and sweets and whatnot. Quite relaxing.”
Certainly, there are Alphas who make for culinary geniuses, who have their five-star restaurants or television shows. The top dogs of fine cuisine. But an Alpha who likes to dawdle in the kitchen as a simple hobby? Ignis has been teased for it more times than he could count, even his mother and father poking lighthearted jabs at him whenever they found him nestled in front of the stove. He almost expects the same from the Prince, but his reaction so far has Ignis hoping otherwise.
“Funny,” Noctis says, this time revealing a full and warm smile. His eyes crinkle at its corners, and Ignis wants to believe it’s from a genuine smile and not from some practiced sincerity. “I’m not that great in the kitchen. Can make some decent eggs and pancakes, throw store bought cookies in the oven if I’m feeling it. Just not really into it.”
“One can’t be a master of everything, Your Highness. You seem to have picked up gardening, however?”
“Gardening? Not at all, that’s dad’s shtick. I was just helping.”
“Oh.”
“I like to get more down and dirty.”
Ignis almost chokes on his eggs, but as quickly as he catches himself, he doesn’t escape the amused tilt of the Prince’s brow. His Highness doesn’t say anything more on that topic, but Ignis knows it’ll surely come up again. He isn’t sure whether to take it as it is or as an innuendo; he’s not even sure which one he’d prefer it to be.
“And just call me Noctis, by the way.”
Turns out, Noctis’ words are more literal than Ignis would ever imagine them to be because the next day, he’s fetched for again and guided outside to the training fields. He sees Prince Noctis standing in the middle, facing a uniformed Glaive.
Ignis can’t help but look on in sheer terror as Noctis flies across the training yard and skids his back against the dirt and gravel. But he hops right back up like a champion, sparing just a second to spit out blood and dust onto the hard ground, and brandishes his training sword before chucking it at the Glaive. He fizzles out of reality the second his sword leaves his hands, and Ignis thinks he can see the ghostly blue trail after the blade. When Ignis blinks, he sees Noctis popping back into existence, pressing his sword against his opponent’s kukris in a showdown of strength.
There’s a short stare-off, each of them grounding their feet into the dirt and shoving their weapons into one another, pushing the limit to see who breaks their stance first. Ignis watches with bated breath, hands clenching the arms of his plastic lawn chair, and he leans forward in his seat in suspense.
His Majesty, flanked by Clarus Amicitia and Cor Leonis, quietly sips on his mimosa and looks far more peachy than a father watching his Omega son brawl against a deadly Alpha should look. The Immortal and Shield don’t even bat an eye, simply trading swigs from a dark beer they pass off to each other.
“Money’s on junior,” Cor says, handing the now half-empty bottle to Clarus.
“O-ho, someone changed their tune from last week.”
“What can I say? His Highness kicked that Luche fellow to the bleachers.”
“Fair enough. Guess I’ll bet on Ulric.”
King Regis clears his throat, and looks every ounce of a proud father watching his boy beat the ever living shit out of a soldier. “I’ll pretend I don’t hear you two making bets over my dear son.”
“Oh, please, don’t act like you didn’t rake in some pocket money over that training session.” Clarus lightly clinks his beer against King Regis' drink, appraising him with an upward quirk of his brow.
His Majesty retaliates by snatching the bottle out of his Shield's hand and downing the rest of it in one go. Cor Leonis huffs out a laugh while Clarus Amicitia huffs out a grumble.
But Ignis Scientia only feels faint.
And, well, shamefully turned on. He isn’t sure how to process that. Bearing witness to an Omega who could actually kick his ass and make him eat dirt should terrify him. His whole life, he believed Noctis to be some frail prince made of spun glass — beautiful and delicate, showcased through rare snapshots and surrounded with all manners of security.
He and the entire world grew up on the idea of a sweet and quiet boy, but watching Noctis narrowly avoid a boot to his face and counter with a lance to Ulric’s ass — where did that lance even come from? — it’s safe to say they were all fed damn lies.
Noctis rips through the very fabric of space, tearing its seams and bursting them into bright blue ashes, looking all so alive like the flames burning in him. Or maybe that’s the actual fire spreading across the ground when he lobbed that glowing magic sphere.
“Cheater!” Nyx yells, hopping away from the dying fire spell. “No magic!”
“Screw the rules, I’m royalty!”
Noctis laughs, vibrant and full, and he chases after the man in bursts of blue and white. He’s dirty and battered, covered in sweat and scratches, and no doubt he’ll have more than just a few bruises to show for; but Ignis thinks he looks radiant, here in the open air and in tattered clothes no prince should be caught wearing.
Ignis isn’t sure what it is, but something clicks and the pieces quietly fall together as he watches the dance of steel and magic race across the field. He imagines all the suitors before him, bearing gifts of flowers and perfumes to lay at Noctis’ feet. They treat him delicately, just how society tells them how Omegas out to be handled, and try to carry him like a priceless Faberge egg — dressed in jewels and gold so soft he’d scratch at the lightest touch. They talk of nothing but drab things, perhaps politics and alliances if they’re bold enough, and domestic things a coddled prince might like. Tame hobbies and crafts, sewing or golf and the like.
And he imagines Noctis looking absolutely bored out of his mind, listening to haughty Alphas speaking of their accomplishments and trophies and useless promises that are ultimately empty in the end. As a test or maybe out of his own amusement, Noctis brings them out just like this, to shock or awe, to show he’ll have none of their cooing nonsense. And the results? Ignis can think of a few. The “Alpha” Alpha, horrified and angered at the lack of modicum, refuses to marry an Omega who does not know his place. The “White Knight” Alpha who jumps to his poor Prince’s rescue, demands to fight in his stead and protect him from all harm (only to have his own rear handed to him). And of course, all the confused ones who have no idea what to make of the situation and decide to just leave.
Ignis doesn’t realize the spar is over until the Kingsglaive Captain blows his whistle, and the sharp shrill and the hoots of onlookers pulls his mind back to the field. Noctis has Nyx Ulric pinned to the dirt, straddling his chest and holding a kukri to the man’s neck. Ignis thinks he’s won, until he sees the Glaive holding the broken blade of a sword at Noctis’ heart as well.
Titus Drautos announces a tie, and they both drop their weapons as a result. Noctis rolls off and onto his back, chest heaving as he desperately sucks in air, and splays his arms out on either side of him. A hand hits Ulric in the face as he stretches out, but the man doesn’t complain and only has the strength to focus on his own breathing as well. Off on the side, Ignis sees trainees and guards pass coin around, having made bets of their own, the disgruntled losers paying their toll to the triumphant winners.
When Noctis lolls his head over to look at King Regis, he flashes a tired but satisfied grin. Ignis isn’t sure what sort of expression His Majesty makes — he’s sure it’s of approval judging by the warm chuckle he hears — since his eyes are glued to just how radiant the battered Prince looks. Noctis looks utterly at home and in comfort, covered in dirt and sweat and bruises. Ignis has only seen tabloid snapshots that depict him as some melancholy little boy, scared of the world and quiet in his loneliness.
Noctis looks far more lovely like this, he thinks, looking exhausted but alive and happy. Ignis gives him a weak thumbs up when he looks his way, and he ignores the extra little thump of his heart when he hears Noctis laugh for the first time.
“The Kingsglaive is made up of all Alphas.”
It comes out of the blue, when they sit for some tea in the outer garden. They had been talking of Altissia — Ignis of his summer vacation spent with his nose in their recipe books and mouth on a tasting spoon, Noctis of his diplomatic trip with his father to discuss new trade routes with the madame secretary — when he washes down a sweet biscuit with a sip of black tea to suddenly utter the fact.
Ignis never gave it any thought, but it certainly makes sense to him. Alphas, the “stronger” gender, the protectors and hunters since the days of old. Perhaps some Betas could make it within their ranks, but having an all-Alpha unit isn’t beyond reason. He humors Noctis and takes the bait. “And you are sharing this with me because…?”
“Guess why.”
“Alphas are the warriors, the fighters. Or so goes the rules.”
“Or so goes the rules.”
“Well, you’ve proven that some of these rules can be broken. And I like to believe you aren’t the sole anomaly in the entirety of Eos.”
Only two weeks since he’s started his courting, and he’s learned more about Noctis than he ever thought possible. The Prince is… eccentric, to put it. He’s something of an innocent brat, childish in that he’ll push and prod at his dinner vegetables but responsible where it counts. More than once he’s sought out Ignis for some excuse in favor of running away from papers and documents in want of his reading and signature, but he’ll promptly excuse himself to resume his duties once he finds his time is up.
His cooking skills are rather poor, as he’s once stated himself, and if left on his own, Ignis thinks his diet would end up disastrous. During a midnight hour, he once found Noctis sitting on the floor of a kitchen scooping peanut butter directly out of the jar and onto some tortilla chips like a little gremlin child. Yet his one saving grace is his skills with fish; he has his own set of recipes Ignis has never tried before. Recipes he quickly jotted down when Noctis invited him to a private lake, where he rolled up his pants and dipped his feet into the water, casting his fishing line off the low pier.
One would think a posh prince would rather be caught dead than wade through the murky waters of an old lake to pull out a three-foot fish, flapping and splashing and with slimy scales. Or that he’d rather read and write in his air-conditioned study instead of joining the royal guards and glaives in their training regiments, preferring to keep his manicured hands soft and clean instead of calloused and bruised.
Ignis knows he must have said something right, and he keeps his self-preening to the minimum when Noctis grins. It’s slow like the rising beat of drums leading up to a grand reveal, and he certainly gets a prize when the smile parts for a bark of that laughter again. He wonders if the twenty-four suitors before him ever got the chance to hear it.
“You,” Noctis says, lifting his cup in a toast to Ignis, “know how to flatter, don’t you? Playing all your cards right.”
Ignis wants to interject and explain his words weren’t as planned as Noctis thinks them to be; he only said what was in his mind, not stringing words together to garner any favor. But before he has the chance, Noctis steers the conversation away as do people of his rank do, eloquently enough that Ignis forgets what they had been talking about in the first place.
It’s when he gets ready for bed, staring in the bathroom mirror as he brushes his teeth, that he realizes Noctis never really answered his question. He’ll breach that topic come the morning, should he remember to, but sleep comes easy and far too quickly before he can pin the idea to the corkboard of his mind.
He wakes bright and early, and it turns out he doesn't need to remember. Noctis waits for him at the Citadel steps, leaning against the driver side of the famous Star of Lucis, an absolute gorgeous work of art and taking after its name, and he looks up from his phone to flag down Ignis.
"What's the occasion?" Ignis asks, strapping his seat belt in.
"Gonna show you something interesting."
That "something" turns out to be somewhere in the Kingsglaive headquarters. Ignis' nose twitches at the heavy scent in the air, the unmistakable cologne of Alpha that permeates through every wall and floor of the grand building. Noctis, though, seems perfectly at home and saunters on through, occasionally slowing to wave or pass a word or two to some friendly Glaives. A few even stop to say hello to Ignis, and he greets them in turn.
"Do you feel that?" Noctis asks, guiding them down a corridor.
And Ignis does. The closer they get, the more it speeds towards him like a train barreling down the track to run him over. It’s oppressive, heavy and hostile but tragic above all; he can almost taste the anguish in the air.
It’s the pheromones of a full-blown Alpha’s rut. Not just one Alpha but at least a dozen he realizes as Noctis pushes open the double doors of the medical bay.
Sirens go off in his head, fearing for the Omega’s safety among a pack of Alphas, and he jerks his eyes over to Noctis only to see him wear a face of utter determination and eyes of sympathy. Ignis keeps his mouth shut and his hands to himself, fighting the urge to grab Noctis and run out of there, as he reminds himself just who this young prince is and what he’s capable of. He’s seen Noctis train and fight against the Kingsglaive themselves, and Noctis carries himself with such confidence and faith that Ignis chooses to believe in him as well.
“The Kingsglaive are all Alphas,” Noctis says, and Ignis remembers their talk from yesterday, “because they get the worst of it.”
At the sound of his voice, all eyes hone in on Noctis. Ignis expects that voracious, insatiable hunger to overtake them; but while there is hunger, it is a hunger for comfort, like that of a child frightened by a nightmare seeking the safety of its parents. There are whispers, soft pleas of woe and heartbreak, that even chip away at Ignis’ own heart.
Noctis sits by the closest bed, where a man covered in sweat curls in on himself, fists clenching and unclenching the rough sheets. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay, you’re safe. ”
And as Noctis coos and holds the Glaive’s hand, a thumb softly stroking over his fingers, Ignis feels the air shift and turn, the stormy weight of the Alphas dispersing like morning mist. A different scent overtakes the entire stretch of the bay — if not the entire floor of headquarters — and even Ignis falls prey to the lulling warmth that covers him, akin to an anxiety blanket hugging itself around his shoulders. He feels… protected, strangely enough. It takes him a moment too long to discover this scent is undeniably Noctis’.
Ignis breaks himself out of the trance and blinks himself awake, and he catches the glance Noctis takes at him. Maybe it’s the fluorescent lights and the haze of pheromones, but he almost looks glowing. Literally.
“A lot of them are still traumatised, seeing their friends and family killed and their homes overrun. And the hormones just make the nightmares all the more real to them, and they’re forced to relive those memories again. It’s shitty, but we can at least help them through it.”
Noctis explains, in a quiet voice as to not disturb the Glaives, how the ruts and hormones make for not only a violent mix but a tragic one. How they work as triggers, unearthing their darkest memories and forcing them to suffer through the pain of death and loss. How King Regis, founder of the force known as the Kingsglaive, discovered the side-effects of acting as a conduit and sharing the royal family’s magic with this small army. How both father and son could serve their soldiers in turn for their loyalty and sacrifices.
“We protect them just as much as they protect us. It’s a king’s duty to look after his people, even soldiers — especially soldiers.”
It’s an hour later, Noctis driving them back to the Citadel and in the privacy of the car, when he explains why he breached the subject and the reason for the field trip. He looks almost forlorn, not for himself but for the Glaives suffering through their inner demons.
“Dad shares his powers with the Kingsglaive, every single one of them. We’re not really sure about the details, but through some weird Crystal magic voodoo, he sort of has this… ‘pseudo’ bond with them.” He waves a hand in the air, making some wishy-washy gesture but makes sure to keep his other hand steady on the wheel. Even if the unmistakable Star belongs to one Prince, royalty must obey traffic laws. “It’s not really an Omega-Alpha bond, but some of it’s the same. That’s how he’s able to keep them from diving too far into their ruts or bring them out of their dark spaces. And sometimes when it gets too much, I can come in.”
But it’s when he reaches a red traffic light that he wrinkles his nose in contempt, making a face as if he just downed a too bitter cough syrup. “A couple suitors didn’t like that idea, of the king sharing this link with all of them. I’ll be king someday and take on that responsibility, but I guess they wanted me to be one hundred percent exclusive or something.”
“I think it’s admirable.” Ignis didn’t really mean to say it aloud, not until he saw Noctis’ sour expression and decided he deserved to hear it. He didn’t even think he himself deserved to see all that had happened, to witness how almost intimate the picture Noctis and the Glaives painted. The suitors before him must all be fools then, to think about selfish desires toward a softhearted (yet strongwilled) Prince on the cusp of adulthood.
“Do you? Thanks, Ignis, really.”
Ignis says nothing about the sliver of vulnerability in that tone and merely hums in acknowledgment. He wonders, during their quiet drive back, if his initial theory was wrong. If the reason for so many suitors turned and rejected wasn’t actually because of the Prince after all, but because the twenty-four before him couldn’t see past what society has fed them and the conventionalization of an Omega prince.
‘Idiots, ’ he thinks to himself, ‘and I thought myself blind with how strong my glasses must be.’
“For the love of the gods, would you kindly please stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“You know very well what I mean. That pressure you regard me with, akin to an Alpha challenging for his territory. As if you’ll eat me alive before you even bother to skin me first! Do you know what that does to my instincts? How they scream at me to retaliate and brawl? I am practically battling myself for my own control, and it is an uphill battle I assure you.”
Noctis only offers a grin, infuriatingly wide and amused.
All Ignis had been doing was admiring the royal library, particularly their impressive collection of classic literature, minding his own business and perusing the back cover of an anthology, when Noctis came strolling in. He arrived near silently, save for the footsteps that made a beeline toward Ignis with such precision, as if the towering bookshelves may as well be invisible.
It would have been fine, except for that suffocating aura Noctis sent out, filling the air with the presence of a hunter searching for its target. The target being Ignis, of course.
“So you finally mentioned it. I was wondering when you’d finally say something.” Noctis tilts his head, looking the picture of innocence when he's actually guilty of everything.
Ignis shuts the book with such force that it resounds off the library walls, and he shoves it back into its proper space on the shelf. He plucks his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he sucks in a deep breath then slowly exhales; when he opens his eyes, he sees Noctis still sporting his shit-eating grin.
“Are you satisfied now? To know you’ve riled me up so,” Ignis sighs, putting his glasses back on. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. Have I done something to earn your ire? Do you abhor the idea of courtship so much you’d like to scare me off instead? I may not have the finest qualifications to try for your hand, but I daresay my company hasn’t been all that unpleasant —”
“Woah, woah. Slow down there, Ignis.” Noctis lifts his hands in a gesture of appeasement, though the little laugh in his voice almost makes Ignis think otherwise. “Sorry to say this, but I was genuinely wondering how’d you react. All my suitors kept getting paranoid, wondering if my Shield was hiding around the corner and secretly threatening them, or maybe I really wasn’t an Omega after all. Some of them got really snappy, almost violent. But you pretty much rolled with it until now. I’m surprised you lasted this long.”
A test, then. Noctis posed him with a test, and Ignis must have failed with his reaction. He’s already thinking of the things he’ll need to pack and how he’ll get his laundry the morning maids took the liberty of washing, but above all he can’t help but feel the disappointment rising in his chest. He rather liked Noctis’ company and all the quirks and habits that comes with him, each a new little fun surprise to learn and appreciate.
“But anyway, I think you’re plenty qualified, so don’t knock yourself out just yet, silly.” Then, Noctis places a hand on his arm. If his words didn’t pull Ignis back, then that touch certainly does. His eyes are warm, no sign of dismissal or frown of disapproval to betray his consolation.
“I… Pardon?” Ignis silently curses the way his voice goes just a bit weak.
“I said I like having you around.”
“Oh.”
Well, crisis averted, he supposes. But it’s only after another laugh when an attendant fetches Noctis at the King’s request and leaves, that Ignis realizes the weight of the Prince’s words: he liked having Ignis around.
Ignis learns a lot during his one month stay. He feels like it’s all sacred knowledge to be kept within the Citadel vaults, yet a revelation the entirety of Eos should have the decency of knowing.
Noctis isn’t a fragile Omega waiting for his dashing Alpha to sweep him off his feet, to promise him loyalty and devotion and a lifetime of protection. Because one, Noctis already has all that. He has the love and allegiance of his friends, the cooing and awwing of an entire kingdom, and a special military force that will risk life and limb to keep him and his father safe. And two, Ignis is sure Noctis can make any Alpha tuck their tail in between their legs and run for the hills; he's an absolute war machine even without the kingdom's special forces.
Ignis clicks the locks of his suitcase and sighs, looking dejected at the band around his finger. He’ll have to return it, now that his month-long trial is over and both King and Prince have said nothing of further courting. He honestly enjoyed his time at the Citadel, learning and even laughing with the Prince and discovering some of the quirks that make him unique. At the very least, Noctis has given him a new perspective to regard Omegas with. Broaden his horizons, even.
He isn’t bitter, but he’ll miss it. Miss what exactly, though, he can’t say. He knows it’s not the luxuries the palace lifestyle affords him, but rather something of Noctis. Perhaps he’ll miss the company, his frame of mind and the way he ticks. Or maybe — just maybe — this particular fondness Ignis has only recently acknowledged. He doesn’t want to say it’s love, but it’s certainly something that could bloom given time and nurture.
Well, better to nip it now before it takes root.
Ignis is on his way to the throne room, to give his respects to the King and thank him for the opportunity, but he halts in his tracks when he sees His Majesty make his way toward him. Noctis trails after him but picks up the pace when he spots Ignis, and his bright smile tugs at Ignis' heart in the most bittersweet way. A shame he won't be able to see it anymore.
"Your Majesty, Your Highness," Ignis greets, lightly bowing to them both. He slips the ring from his middle finger and presents for Noctis to take back, trying to not mind the feeling of absence it leaves behind. "My month is over, but I am greatly honored and humbled for the time I was given. It is my sincerest wish His Highness finds his future consort, and I hope for nothing but happiness to you and your dearest."
King Regis looks… almost confused. He regards the ring as if it's some foreign object and he has no idea what to do with it. But then, he looks over to Noctis and heaves a long-suffering sigh.
"Son," he says, shaking his head, "You were to tell him yesterday."
"I forgot! I mean, I was going to but I got distracted and Prompto came over with the newest Flame Insignia and I've been dying to play it."
King Regis actually rolls his eyes at that, much to Noctis' frustration it appears. But Ignis is too distracted about this thing he was apparently supposed to be told yesterday to really acknowledge that King Regis rolled his eyes.
Noctis, at least, catches on and quickly fumbles to take the ring from Ignis, but he keeps a hold on his hand.
"This month was great, Ignis. This might be a low bar of expectation, but I just needed to be sure you weren't some arrogant asshole. And congratulations! You passed." He says it so naturally, as if he’s passing off some paper certificate and not say, recognition as a possible future consort.
Ignis, suddenly, feels very weak in the knees, and he suspects he's only able to keep standing through Noctis' light hand on his, which is slowly and deliberately turning and searching for Ignis' ring finger. He tries to ground himself, focusing on the warmth of Noctis' hand and the genuine smile that dazzles like stardust, and not on the heavy thud of his own heart beating in his ears.
It's a dream, he foolishly thinks. He's still sleeping and loathing the morning he'll have to prepare for his return home, and sad enough that he conjures a fantastical dream. But everything is too real for this to be a trick of his mind. He sees King Regis standing behind Noctis, every gleam and glint of his polished buttons and chains, and the warmth in his eyes and the smile of a doting father, and Ignis knows he can’t be making that up.
And Noctis, cheeks tinted just a soft dust of pink, lips pulled in a soft and slightly embarrassed smile, looks up at him with such hope in his eyes it almost hurts Ignis. When he finds that ring finger, he carefully slides the ring back on — the same ring that once sat on Ignis’ middle finger and marked him as a candidate. The same ring Ignis, only a moment ago, returned to the Prince because he believed his time was up and the next suitor would arrive shortly.
"You spent a month courting me. Now it's my turn to court you," Noctis says, as if Ignis would ever say no, "So what do you say, Ignis Scientia? Will you accept?"
Yet another loop Ignis is tossed into. Alphas court, not Omegas. But he should have expected as much from Noctis and his family's quaint traditions. He knows there will be more surprises down the road, more breaking of worldviews and making of new ones, but Ignis wouldn't have it any other way.
"But of course."
"Great, how about a fishing date?"
"Only if you guide me through one of your recipes."
He finalizes their terms by bringing Noctis' hand to his lips, lightly ghosting a kiss across his knuckles, and his Prince smiles just a bit wider at it. In the background, he hears King Regis mutter, in fondness, something about finally finding someone after all this time, before walking off and leaving them be.
"Deal."
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Giant Spider and Me: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale; Volume 1 — Review
Brief Summary: A story set after the apocalypse about a young girl bonding with a giant spider over her love of cooking.
Author and Illustrator: Kikori Morino
Format: Graphic novel/manga series
Genre(s): Post-apocalyptic, slice-of-life
Length: 180 pages
Full review under the cut
Alright, my first official review of anything ever. So as a little warm-up, I’ve decided to review a heartwarming tale that I’ve just recently begun reading, Giant Spider and Me: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale by Kikori Morino.
I was gifted the first book, the only one I’ve read thus far, on our shared birthday by a close friend of mine. Immediately, I was drawn to this book by the jumping spider, one of my favorite animals, on the cover, with the domestic, watercolor scenery, and post-apocalyptic label further intriguing me. Something about soft storylines in speculative fiction really interests me.
And I was not disappointed. The story focuses on a girl (my guess is that she’s a pre-teen) named Nagi living in a secluded cabin out in the woods, shortly after her father left to go traveling for a bit. While out gathering food, Nagi comes across a giant spider, who, despite appearances, turns out to be very gentle and curious towards her. Though hesitant at first, Nagi comes to befriend this adorable arachnid, whom she names Asa, with the two bonding over Nagi’s love of cooking.
The major conflict of the story centers on Nagi learning to understand Asa. Other conflicts and tenser moments do occur, but even with these, the story remains very low-drama. No grand-scale or hyper-fantastical conflicts, just a girl taking care of herself and developing a new friendship. For every sad or scary page, there are three more humorous or heartwarming ones to balance it out. Giant Spider is filled with tiny moments like Asa rolling around on the ground or the two companions enjoying lunch under the trees that will just make you smile.
Thus far, the story’s just been a mellow take on the post-apocalypse genre. Despite its genre, the backstory to the setting seems to be more so a justification for the tranquil, slice-of-life elements of the tale than anything else. Sure, human civilization as we know it may have crumbled, but in its wake are serene forests filled with life where the remnants of humanity spend their days cooking homemade food, generously caring for one another, and traveling the Earth whenever wanderlust strikes them. If it weren’t for the presence of Asa or the few brief alludes to the past, I likely wouldn’t have known that Giant Spider was set after-the-end.
On that note, I’d say the author did a tremendous job with the personality and design of Asa. They most closely resemble the adorable jumping spider with their large eyes and fuzzy, round body, which is just perfect for this playful character. While quite a bit of artistic license was taken with Asa’s design, there are some surprising and delightful bits of accuracy with Asa’s behavior.
I’ll admit that Asa’s gentle and protective nature could very well just be the “seemingly scary creature actually being docile” trope in action rather than being based on actual spider traits, but whichever the case, Asa’s actions do match up with those of real world jumping spiders. Members of this taxonomic family have been found to be fairly intelligent compared to other spiders. And while I have yet to come across any conclusive studies on this, many people have noted how calm and seemingly inquisitive jumping spiders tend to be around humans. On top of that, there’s at least one known species of herbivorous jumping spider, Bagheera kiplingi, giving credence to Asa’s behavior of happily eating Nagi’s vegatarian cooking.
Which brings me to the next major facet of this book, the recipes. Yup, this post-apocalyptic manga about a girl and her spider is also a cookbook. Much like the Cake tv show or The Curious Creations of Christine McConnell, Giant Spider has a rich narrative intertwined with recipes you can follow at home. However, unlike in similar works, these instructional portions fit more seamlessly into the plot and have a bigger in-story function. As someone who’s recently taken to experimenting with cooking, it was a wondrous surprise coming across these recipes.
I have yet to try out any of these recipes, so I can’t yet give a verdict on how easy they are to follow or how the food turns out, but from the way they’re written, I imagine you could follow them so long as you have at least some experience in the kitchen and a good amount of patience. I especially love how there are little details like what differentiates various types of coffee or how you can use the stems of root vegetables in a dish. At least in the first book, all of the dishes are vegan or vegetarian. It’s almost certain that Nagi does eat meat and other animal byproducts, so it’s likely that these recipes were chosen for safety reasons, though thinking about it, a meat-sparse or free diet would make sense in this particular setting.
All in all, this book is just a delight to read. As of the publishing of this review (January 2019), there are three Giant Spider and Me volumes out. Each book is relatively short. Even when only reading in bits and pieces at a time, I was easily able to finish the first volume in only two days. Considering the tone and length of the books, I most suggest reading this tale during brief periods of downtime or when you just need to unwind. I recommend this book to anybody who enjoys sweet, small-scale stories, especially if you’re as much in love with spiders and/or cooking as I am.
#book review#manga review#graphic fiction#giant spider and me#post apocalyptic#slice of life#kikori morino
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This week, I had the pleasure of interviewing Niina Eveliina, creator of the webcomic Numb. Check it out after the cut.
Me: Can you share a little about yourself as an artist?
Niina: I see myself as a storyteller more than anything. Art is a perfect way to bring those images to life. I truly enjoy the eternal process of learning art and seeing the improvement. Comics have always been a major part of my self expression, but I'm also sucker for just drawing and painting sole illustrations. Mostly traditional stuff even though I'm slowly trying to take over digital as well.
Me: Could you give a brief summary of Numb?
Niina: Numb is a peculiar tale of different people who all yearn for connection, in some form or another. Levi and Susan are lifelong friends who seem to have drifted apart since those long summer days. One thing that specially rubs them the wrong way is the mysterious case around their friend Tim, who's not around anymore. Then there's Nikita, mischievous ghost who only Levi is able to see for reasons yet known. However, all of them are equally unaware of an otherworldly being, a sinister one, that's lurking closer and closer.
Me: Who is your favorite character--and why?
Niina: Levi! He has that childlike wonder in him that really hasn't had a chance to shine yet in the comic, but wait and see! He's a total sweetheart.
Me: Who is your least favorite character--and why?
Niina: Oh man...I know this is corny, but I cannot pick one. I really do love them all. I don't think I'd be able to write a character and continue having them around if there'd be even a tiny hint of dislike in my heart for them. And by this I don't mean they're all such a good people and deserve all the hugs. But I do love them as characters; they're all very interesting and fun for me to work with.
Me: What is your favorite part of the creative process? The least favorite part?
Niina: Favourite parts are definitely storyboarding, drawing the expressions and coloring (I used to hate it now it gives me life). Least favourite: Lettering and editing.
Me: Is it harder or easier to do your comic traditionally?
Niina: Easier. I find it way harder to make good looking digital art.
Me: How have readers reacted to your characters and story thus far? Are there any challenges that you’ve had to overcome when working on Numb?
Niina: So far based of what I've heard, Amy, Susan, Levi and Nikita are someone's favorite. It makes me happy to see so many of them are being liked. It makes me feel I've succeeded on making them all their own person. As for the current happenings on the story, there has been few upsets, but understanding ones. The story goes where it's gotta go. Challenges would be grammar and doing dialogue. I'm not a native speaker so it can come off as awkward sometimes, but I have helpful commenters who point out the mistakes so I can fix them fast! Other struggle is always with the art. It's improving, but I still have long way to go.
Me: Do you translate into English from Finnish when working on your comic? Or do you write directly in English?
Niina: Directly in English. It's easier that way since the languages are so different.
Me: What do you want readers to take away from your story?
Niina: Whatever they get from it, really. I like it when people come up with their own interpretations so I avoid making too on-point story just to make speculating more interesting. I feel best stories are those that leave you guessing a bit.
Me: What made you decide to pursue webcomics as a medium to tell your story?
Niina: Well I felt it was the fastest way to get the story out there, I was dying for getting to tell it! Also I know the story is a bit.. weird. So I'm not sure if I would have change with a publisher. Maybe I will try it once I've made enough pages.
Niina: Another thing is that I think this is excellent way to build your audience and get readers that are easy to interact with. That's my favourite part of webcomics.
Me: Who is your “intended” audience?
Niina: Hmmm.. fans of a bit weirder stories I'd say!
Me: Do you have any advice you want to share with other artists and writers?
Niina: Produce quality content and be on schedule with it. Also patience, some things take time.
Me: What tools do you use to create your comic?
Niina: Pencils and watercolors with A3 paper. After scanning I do the final adjustments and lettering in Photoshop.
Me: When does Numb update?
Niina: Every Monday and Wednesday.
You can read Numb at its main site, Tapastic, SmackJeeves, and Web Toon. Follow Niina at her social media sites: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, or Tumblr. You can also check out her portfolio site here!
This post has been adapted from a Twitter interview. Check out my previous interview with Merriam Hayden and if you’re interested in sharing your thoughts or having your own interview, be sure to get in touch!
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Caran d'Ache Workshop Book
Caran d'Ache Workshop Book
Just over a year ago, perhaps a bit longer, Caran d’Ache published a book, the book is called the “Caran d’Ache Workshop Book”. I was first alerted to it when a good friend of mine, Vinnie Gracanin from Australia who used to be a representative for Caran d’Ache, told me about it.
I took a look at the Caran d’Ache website, trying to find out a few more details; I knew from Vinnie that the book contained a lot of art work from various artists using Caran d’Ache products, but I didn’t know too much more.
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I took a look around YouTube and other art related blogs, just to see if there was other reviews or write ups about the book and I couldn’t find anything at all, other than a video of someone unboxing the book. So I took the plunge and purchased to book for myself and I was so happy that I did. However, I didn’t want people to go through the same issues I experienced before purchasing the book and having to blindly by it, and so completed this review. I know watching or reading reviews of books is not the most exciting thing in the world, especially as actually reviewing books can be very tricky. I can’t show too much of the book, to the extent people know everything there is in the book and don’t need to buy it, but I have to show just enough to help you see what the benefits of the book are.
Caran d’Ache Workshop Book Languages
Before getting into the contents of the book and why I love it so much, it is important to let you know just who can purchase this book. Of course anyone can buy the book, but what I mean is who can purchase it and read it in their own language. Luckily, Caran d’Ache haven’t just published a wonderful book and done so in English, the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book comes in many different languages.
Obviously English, which serves a good portion of the speaking world, Swiss, French, German, Italian, Japanese, Dutch and Austrian. On the Caran d’Ache website they also have an option for Belgium, however the main language spoke in Belgium, or one of the languages spoke there is Dutch, there is also French speaking and Brabantian. So as you can see, the book is available to most of the speaking world.
Caran d’Ache Workshop Book Status
The format of the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book is what I would call a “Coffee Table Book”, the type of book that you would have out on display in your living room our lounge for anyone, artist or not, to pick up and browse through. For those of you who may not be old enough to remember, before the internet and Google, if you wanted to learn something new or research a topic, you had to pick up a book with pages, not an e-book, and read it. No question a much more laborious task than that of the methods we use today, non the less, this book is not only full of incredibly interesting information, this is also an visually stunning, page turning master piece in its own right.
There are 192 pages, protected in a sturdy hard backed binder, the spine of the book is a little different to other books you may have read, I am not quite sure how to explain it to you, other than show you some images of it. With the binding of the pages in such a format, it allows you to open the book out with worry of splitting or cracking the other spine.
Caran d’Ache Workshop Book Contents
When you first open the book, the inside of the hardback cover have the image of a swatch on them, which I thought was quite funny given that when us colored pencil artist buy a new set of colored pencils the first thing we all do is create a swatch.
The book is split into manageable and easy to follow sections and within each section are sub sections, I wouldn’t really call them chapters, but I guess if you would prefer to call them chapters, that would be fine.
The first section in the book is called “Background”, and I personally think this is such an interesting section that it grips you and pulls you into the book and company right from the beginning. Here they discuss the materials Caran d’Ache use and their commitment to the environment. For a lot of artists, this is such an important subject and one I am happy to report, many art supply companies are really taking seriously.
The next section is called “Practice”, this section talks about possible tips and techniques for using Caran d’Ache products such as Graphite, Gouache, Watercolor, Coloured Pencils, Fibre Pens, Pastels, Acrylic and Modelling Clay.
The next section is called “Know-How” and this is quite a comprehensive section with lots of topics covered. Topics such as the Colour Wheel according to Wilhelm Ostwald, Paper, Colour Theory, Techniques, which has so many subsections in itself.
The next section is called “In The Caran d’Ache Workshop” which I am sure you can guess what is covered here? Subjects such as mixing techniques, tonal drawing techniques, modelling clay techniques and so much more.
The next section is called “Passe-partout” which is a French phrase and according to the Collins English dictionary means
“A mounting for a picture in which strips of strong gummed paper are used to bind together the glass, picture and backing”
This section discuss framing, the different types of framing processes and frame types that can be used, storing your finished work and presenting it. This information is of course incredibly useful to artists wishing to sell their work and present it in the best possible way.
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The final two sections are pretty self explanatory, “The Gallery” and “Caran d’Ache History. I know from previous reviews I have completed that a lot of people are not interested in the history of a company, however, I personally find to understand a companies current situation and future aspirations, it is important to understand the history.
the Gallery is full of wonderful images from artists all over the world using various products from Caran d’Ache, no matter what your favourite Caran d’Ache product is, be it the Museum Aquarelle, the pigment bursting Neocolour II, the Royalty quality Luminance, the precision of the Pablo or the enormous color selection of the Supracolor Soft, there is an art piece to represent your favourite product.
However, you don’t just have to flick to the back of the book to see images of artwork, the entirety of the book is littered with beautiful and detailed images of Caran d’Ache products. For those of you who follow The Art Gear Guide reviews and like the style that I have tried to incorporate into the reviews with extreme, Hi-Def, close ups images of the products and enjoy this format, then you will love the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book.
The images throughout the book are amazing and so incredibly inspirational. We all find inspiration in different things and ways. For me, there are a few YouTubers who I watch all the time, re-watching videos they have created over and over again and I find inspiration in this. Caran d’Ache actually have a YouTube Channel were they show case and demonstrate their products, watching these videos help ignite inspiration and now the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book helps stimulate my inspiration,
Caran d’Ache Workshop Book Price
the price for the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book is very much a universal price just with the different exchanges at play. Buying the actual book is difficult to get hold of via the likes of Amazon or Ebay regardless of the country. I looked on these platforms for months and just couldn’t find one. So the best place to go is directly to the companies website. From here you will have no problems whatsoever getting hold of a copy and you can select which language you want the book in.
The price of the book is £41 and as I mentioned, because the only place selling the book is the Caran d’Ache website, it is the same price regardless of the country you reside in. I personally think for a book of this type, a wealth of important information, a gallery of beautiful art work created by amazing artists from all over the world and a detailed catalog of the companies most desired and favoured products.
Caran d’Ache Workshop Book Conclusion
I am sure most of you who know me, know just how much I love the Caran d’Ache products I have used and reviewed thus far, so when I learnt of a book published that detailed the products, demonstrated techniques about the products and spoke of the company’s history among many other things, I really had to get a copy. Before getting the book, as it was an online purchase, as opposed to walking into a book store and flicking through it, I would have liked to know a bit more information on the book, in the form of a review, prior to buying it.
So I hope for anyone who is interested in the Caran d’Ache Workshop Book or, perhaps a bit like myself, has been interested and just wanted to know a bit more about the book before buying it, I hope this review will be of some help to you. I know some people may think that £41 is a bit too much for a book, however if you take a look around Amazon and other book stores, books in this particular genre and size, mostly cost in and around this price point.
For any colored pencil enthusiast, be that watercolor pencils, pastel pencils, colored pencils, graphite pencils or even supplies such as modelling clay, acrylic paint and felt tip pens, I really think this book will be a source of knowledge, inspiration and visual stimulation. I have also completed a youtube video showcasing the book as much as I can without damaging sales for the company, follow the link to watch if you are interested.
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#Caran d'Ache Workshop Book#Caran d'Ache#Caran d'Ache Workbook#Caran d'Ache Work book#Work book by Caran d'Ache#Caran d'Ache products
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Arrival
It is now possible for me to add a couple photographs of my pieces to my journal. The second surge was different from the first because I no longer lived in my village. I had a really nice paying job that afforded me the ability to move to an apartment far away from the moldy dampness that brought all of my previous work to ruin. Not that this was the reason I moved; I moved to be closer to work. This was merely an additional benefit that worked in favour of my artwork. At this point in time smart phones had been invented and I was able to take photographs of some of my best pieces. All of my artwork from this surge I have retained and are still in good condition thanks to the drier climate in this neighborhood.
I was mainly expanding my use of acrylic paint to its watercolour-like properties. I had worked with watercolor before in the first surge although briefly and near the end. It proved a fascinating yet challenging medium to work with for me especially at my level at the time. I had also done some experimenting with oil colour during the first surge. I reasoned at the time that it would be similar in practice to acrylic colour and indeed it was; more so than to watercolours at the very least. However the use of turpentine paint thinners gave me headaches even as I enjoyed the faint smell of citrus. Oil colour played no part again in my development as an artist until a few weeks ago.
Other than experimenting with the watercolour-like properties of acrylic paints I also spent a great deal of time trying to achieve greater depth in my paintings which had appeared consistently flat in previous artwork except for my miracle paintings which seemed to have all the elements of a good painting perfectly as if by mere coincidence. Eventually I stumbled upon the solution to my problem which ironically I had already read about in my books but underestimated its usefulness. At the same time I invented a new style for myself that in fact already existed but I had just not encountered before.
In the pictures below are two pieces I did; indeed they were my favorites from this period. The picture of the moonlit beach was first. It was a study piece intended to help me make better use of colour values. Hence it was done in only one hue; blue. There is in fact some cadmium red paint in the darker blue area because I needed to make the blue fresh from the tube darker. Cadmium red paint is actually closer to orange than the true primary magenta; orange tends to darken and eventually subdue blues when mixed together. Of course I didn't understand this as well as I do now even though I understood there was a need to explore the colour mixing properties of my paints. Often mixes would come out dull rather than as vibrant as I would have liked; trying to mix them in different ratios proved fruitless and incredibly frustrating.
After painting the moonlit beach scene I took what lessons I had learned about the values in that painting and coupled them to a new concept in order to create the second painting; the chess board. It was a simple idea at first really. I wanted to try to create depth in a subject that is small and nearby and so I thought the easiest subject would be a chess board because the converging squares of perspective were easy enough to recreate and convey space. I just had to use the correct values and I would have met my task. However the black and white squares of a chess board or rather chess bored needed some colour to make the piece more entertaining so I used alot of colour for the black squares instead. Thus was borne a new painting style I thought that I invented when in fact it had already existed; I just never encountered it before in my reading. It is called fauve. Somehow I can't help but feel amazed how I came to it on my own without prior exposure, experience or knowledge of it but instead from natural growth. This may be one of the best examples of those moments in any creative process that I believe the creator owes his success to talent...
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A New Path
It’s been a while since my last post. It’s easy to get caught up in life and forget to slow things down to reflect on what you’re doing and what direction you are headed. Since my last post I…
• Went up north. Twice. (Grand Maries and Bemidji)
• Started a new job. (Working at RBC Wealth Management as a Senior Associate in Operations)
• Had a pretty successful Christmas. (No family blow up)
• Had a pretty solid New Years. (Was with some of my best friends while we sang and danced our way into the new year)
• Attained a new roommate, who will be sharing my room with me. (Thomas Slob Knobbe)
• Binged ten episodes of a new tv show I am really in to. (It’s called This Is Us, gets a couple emotions going)
• Started running/training again. (Excited to get fit again, although it will take a couple months)
• Tried to paint a little bit (walked away with two successful watercolors. Both of which were musically inspired and created for gifting purposes. Strawberry Fields Forever for my brother John, and Feels Like We Only Go Backwards for Jerus) Forgot to take a picture of Johns, which may have been the better of the two :/
I think most notable of these is the start of the new job, so I’ll go a bit in depth on that. So I’m currently two weeks in and have done a whole lot of nothing and a little bit of training, which is slightly frustrating. I am starting off training (really shadowing thus far) for a role that I will be the backup for. My manager said this training would take 2-3 months, so I won’t be starting the training for my job for a good while.
The people on my team/in my department are very nice, which is huge. One guy on my team looks exactly like Ryan Reynolds and is a pretty awesome dude. He has taken me under his wing a little bit, which is clutch. Probably half of my time at work has been independently researching random shit I think I should know for my role, or what I find interesting about the financial industry. Never really imagined myself working at a wealth management firm, but life seldom turns out how we envision it to.
I certainly want to stay at RBC for at least one year, unless I am unexplainably miserable, see: my job at Optum. Though, I have been thinking of where I want to be in 5-10 years and I don’t think it is in Operations… Although I think I could be somewhat successful if I stayed here and sought out management roles, I don’t see myself in operations, it seems like a generally dry field for me and while things will/can be interesting I would like to be doing something that involves something I can be a bit more passionate about. But who knows, I may be surprised.
Maybe being passionate about work is a luxury not given to all grown-ups, I’m still learning how to walk in this new world. I certainly don’t know where I would like to be, and the only way to figure it out is to try new things! RBC is a great firm and I am very excited to be getting some experience.
From what I can tell, I think my job will be generally enjoyable. It is a fast past environment and the people have been nice and friendly thus far. I also have loved being downtown. Something about getting off work and being in the heart of downtown makes things a little brighter. I’ll have to do some shooting after work for the next blog post, but for now here are some of the shots I took the past couple of weeks:
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