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Y'ALLLLLLL I MET OWEN DENNIS (creator of Infinity Train et al) TODAY!!
Of course I went blank (didn't think I'd see him till Sunday) and he didn't seem to know what to do about the person fangirling all over the place (me) but he seemed like a pretty chill guy!
He'll be at his table again tomorrow - y'all got any questions I should ask him? (Not gonna ask about possible future Infinity Train storylines.)
She's learned to hate trees. At first it was The Last Tree, a god-like symbol meant to give their meager lives some semblance of meaning. It was its own fault that her boy was sent off to Filament Station - its own fault that she doesn't know if he'd died in the explosion or is rotting away in a COI prison. But there's no way out of Eden, and so she's trapped with the tree she hates.
There's another tree she hates, though this one is a seedling trapped in glass, given to her by Eden's Father as a token of her son's 'sacrifice'. She'd wanted to throw it away, to disbelieve the idea that her son is gone for good. She looks at the dimming light of dead stars and thinks to herself that her Simon is also looking at the same light. She buries the seedling under belongings. She can't stand to see it.
Years pass. The Last Tree dies. The hope of seeing Simon again doesn't die, even when she's forced to wear the seedling token so all can see what a pious woman looks like. She keeps her hopes to herself now.
There's an image on the meeting hall's screen, captured from a COI broadcast. It's of a tree breaking the surface of a blood moon's ocean. The COI want to know the meaning behind it. They want a liaison to explain it to them, to work towards solving the mystery of The Quiet Rapture. The door is open.Β
She volunteers to be the liaison's maidservant. She knows it's a one-way trip - the COI aren't going to let a spy come and go at will. She prays to whatever gods there might be that she's the one picked to be the maidservant. Not because of the blood tree, but because she might see her Simon again. The gods answer her prayers.Β
She loses her hated seedling token the first chance she gets. She doesn't need it here. She needs to find her boy.
There was a sheath attached to the black box when it was recovered from the ocean. It had belonged to the convict whose body the blood tree ate. The COI give it to the liaison as an act of good faith. The liaison almost throws it away before it's recognized.
She knows. And she knows she hates the blood tree. It's its own fault that it took her son, left her without anything worth a burial. She's again trapped with a tree she hates.Β
Nobody knows the name of the convict who sprouted the blood tree. She tries to tell someone, but the name is simply written into the records and forgotten. It's her burden to keep his memory alive. She's learned to hate trees, but a mother's love learns to move past it.
Like the other sealed doors in the COI station, the door to the grow room opened with a pneumatic hiss. Simon flinched as the humid, organic-smelling air from inside hit him like a wall. It was his second day on the job, and the change of atmosphere was jarring.
Evan, the station's gardener, was already inside, carrying some plants in old plastic containers to the counter in the middle of the room. They stopped when they saw Simon.
"Oh hey - good morning! Wasn't expecting you for another hour!" They said, pulling a small, grey stick out of their mouth to speak.
Simon quickly turned to where his assigned apron was hanging by the door.
"Yeah. I'm here."
Evan gestured with the pencil-sized stick.
Did you get breakfast already? They start serving it early here."
Simon shrugged as he tried to get the apron over his head with his single hand.
"I'm not hungry." A lie, but Simon was too nervous to eat anything right now
Evan set the plants they were carrying onto the counter with a raised eyebrow.
"You sure? I'm going to need some help lifting some stuff today, and lunch is an hour later on the weekends." They waved a hand. "Unless, of course, you just don't like the stuff they serve for breakfast - I won't fault you for not wanting garlic-flavored mush first thing in the morning."
Simon succeeded in wrestling the apron on and tightened the pre-tied strap around his hips. It was his first full morning on the station and he had no idea what the morning mush tasted like, but he'd tried garlic for the first time the day before - a weak, diluted taste he'd heard someone else complain about - and it was nothing like the flavorless prison slop he'd been eating for years.
"I'm fine. What do you want me to do today?"
Evan put the end of the stick back in the corner of their mouth and nodded to the group of potted plants assembled on the floor. "Well for starters, you can help me move these tomatoes to the counter."
Simon nodded, grabbed one of the makeshift plant pots, and followed Evan across the room. Evan swung the plant onto the counter.
"Have you ever had fresh tomato before?"
Simon had no memories of eating tomatoes.
"... I don't think so."
"Huh." Evan headed back to the plants on the floor and grabbed another. "I'll have to see if I can snag us one when they're ready to pick. They're great right off the vine, but most people don't know that since everything in here gets stewed down. Oh, but in the meantime..." Evan set their payload on the counter, reached into their pocket, and pulled out a small fabric pouch. "Caffeine stick?" Several small grey sticks identical to the one Evan was chewing were sticking out the opening. "Usually just the night workers get these, but I cut a deal with the supply guy - ah, that's just between you and me though." They winked with a mischievous grin.
Simon eyed the pouch warily.
"What's... in it?"
"Just some caffeine and plant fiber. You've never had one before? You chew on it and it wakes you up." They held out the pouch expectantly.
Simon hesitated. He knew how this situation worked - offering gifts to a newcomer in exchange for loyalty or other favors. He'd seen it enough in prison.
"N... No thanks."
Evan shrugged and stashed the pouch back in their pocket, turning back to the plants.
"Offer still stands if you want one later. Also! I'm apologizing in advance if I talk your ear off. I haven't had anyone else in here for a while, and there's a lot to learn."
Simon placed the pot in his hand on the counter.
"It's..." He tried to sort his thoughts, suddenly given the option to have an opinion, "... Most people don't talk to me anyway."
"Ah good! Ah, not that they don't talk to you, but- ah, you know what I mean." Evan waved a hand. "Anyway! Tomatoes!" They began rattling off a rundown on tomato plant care.Β
Simon listened to the words drifting around him, filing away what information that stuck. It was several minutes before he realized the anxious stiffness in his shoulders had begun to relax. He straightened his posture a little as Evan waved a makeshift watering can around.
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Been having a really rough time lately, but I think I'm on the upswing. Managed to get myself together enough to draw a little, and with stylus pressure sensitivity turned on for the first time. (Finding it really difficult, but I'm learning.)
Thanks everyone who sent in suggestions re: pressure sensitivity yesterday. Been having a rough time lately and it was good to have some helpful support. :)
@ digital artists who use pressure sensitivity............ HOW??
As someone who's had pressure sensitivity turned off since learning to draw (some fifteen-ish years ago), how tf do you manage this? You just jam the stylus into the screen and hope you keep the same line weight? I use traditional brush and ink too and it's nothing like this
EDIT: I think I've figured out how to edit pressure curves but I still have no idea what I'm doing. but there's tears in my eyes and I don't know if it's because of stress of a whole new thing I'll have to learn or relief I don't have to manually erase parts of the ends of lines to get pointed/tapered edges
@ digital artists who use pressure sensitivity............ HOW??
As someone who's had pressure sensitivity turned off since learning to draw (some fifteen-ish years ago), how tf do you manage this? You just jam the stylus into the screen and hope you keep the same line weight? I use traditional brush and ink too and it's nothing like this
EDIT: I think I've figured out how to edit pressure curves but I still have no idea what I'm doing. but there's tears in my eyes and I don't know if it's because of stress of a whole new thing I'll have to learn or relief I don't have to manually erase parts of the ends of lines to get pointed/tapered edges
I am writing an essay on BloodyMary. Topics will include the shipβs praises, criticisms, and itβs affect on fandom culture
Soβ¦..
I am collecting data.
Whether you adore the ship or hate it with your whole being, your opinion matters and I would love to hear it!
I have a form that you can fill out, or simply let me know your opinion in reposts or comments or DMβs or literally any other way! Liking, Reblogging, or Reposting to other platforms are all appreciated! Please get this out to as many people as possible!
I would also like to make a disclaimer that I am in no way trying to start shipping discourse or fandom drama, I just want to get data. If you do not attach a name to your responses in the forms you will forever be anonymous.
Hello! Thank you for taking time to take this form! Your opinion means a lot to me and will immensely aid in my project!
I am in no way atte
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Okay so I'm the oldest of four, afab, but fairly androgynous (enby), right? Well I recently moved out of state to live near some friends. And I now have a co worker from India who's nice, but has been doing the slightly annoying cis-het 'Why don't you have a boyfriend?'/'When are you getting a boyfriend?' thing despite me saying I'm not interested in men. But aside from that the guy is pretty nice and friendly and went to no small effort to ensure I had my birthday off because birthdays are important. (Nice guy.)
One day we were chatting and he asked what my big life plans were and I said I want to settle down with a wife in a small house and do art full time. And he went quiet. Then later on he comes up to me and is like 'So I like men [...]'
Turns out he isn't homophobic at all, just a little dense.
Now a little background that's relevant:
I have three brothers, and due to a lot of anti-dating rhetoric growing up (and just being plain busy,) none of us ever got into relationships despite us all now being mid 20s to mid 30s. Except! The youngest brother recently announced he's engaged and getting married in November (2.5 months away.) Yay for him, in his own words "doing [his] duty as youngest and getting married first"! (Heh.)
Anyway, back to today.
I'm the only other queer person this co worker knows and trusts since he isn't publicly out of the closet. And there's so much shit going down with work visas right now that he might be forced to go back to India, which he really doesn't want to do since being LGBT isn't a thing there. So he's scrambling trying to find some way to stay, and his only option he can find is getting married to a US citizen. And since he's worried that gay marriage might get repealed, his safest bet is marrying a woman. Except he isn't interested in women and no women on dating apps have been interested in a marriage of convenience. So he asked me if I knew anyone who might possibly be interested, and I said I'd keep it in mind.
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Hey hey, did a little slice of life fic, since I love slice of life fics! (486 words!)
ao3 mirror
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It's another day, another breakfast. David is reviewing the SM-13 launch checklist with Ava. It'll be a standard launch, a standard convict. Ava drums her fingers on the table, bored. It's nothing new. Jack enters the small dining area and nods to the duo, grabbing some artificially caffeinated sludge from a carton in the fridge. He gags when he tries to chug it down. He always does.
It's another day, another breakfast. David rambles about updates on the ship's systems to Ava. He doesn't want to talk about the loss of the SM-13. Ava doesn't bring it up. Jack stumbles into the dining room, inviting shocked stares from David and Ava. Jack says he just wants some of the caffeine sludge. Ava tells him to go back to the med bay - he shouldn't be out of bed in his state. Begrudgingly, he obeys.
It's another day, another breakfast. David is listening to Ava review the ship's new directive; to just watch and wait. David hates the new directive, but he doesn't say it. Jack trudges his way into the dining area, leaning heavily against the wall. He says he just wants to sit for a while - he's going to go crazy in the med bay by himself. Ava lets him.
It's another day, another breakfast. David tries to lighten the mood with a dry joke. The joke doesn't land, but Ava chuckles politely anyway. Jack pauses in the doorway, looking ready to collapse. David and Ava help him get to the dining table. There's some extra caffeine sludge in the fridge that David offers. Jack just rests his head on the table and says nothing.
It's another day, another breakfast. David tells Ava what he thinks about their new directive; it sucks. Ava doesn't respond. David didn't expect her to. Then he mutters to Jack how he has to do everything himself. Jack says nothing. David shakes his head dismissively.
It's another day, another breakfast. David is rambling. Ava is silent. Jack isn't talking. The ship's pilot enters the dining area. He says they're being recalled as he reaches for the last of the caffeine sludge. David stiffens, saying that's Jack's drink. The pilot pauses before reminding him that Jack is gone. The sludge is going to go bad if no one else drinks it. David asks Ava if she can believe this. The pilot tells David he needs to stop talking to himself - someone might think he's losing it.
It's another day, another breakfast. David stands in the dining area alone. They're en route back to the station, SM-8 data in the hold. He reviews the checklist for the docking maneuver. Standard procedure, standard routine. He drums his fingers on the table, bored. It's nothing new. He picks up the sludge container and shakes it over a cup, catching the last of the dregs. There's just enough for a single sip. David gags on it.
