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His majesty's castle is stuck doing a barrel roll. Rescue operations are on the way.

Unfortunately, the sky island rescue department has had their budget cut by half by his majesty's treasurer to invest in automation and are now limited in both staff and equipment.

My concept was to visualize how I see and feel the connection within this trio

Hizashi, as a public figure, obviously has pre-programmed cliches that he plays on autopilot, selecting and switching out tapes. He plays them for others, but he doesn't really have a 'tape' of his own, or perhaps he just has no one to play it for. It’s too painful for him to rewatch his memories of Oboro, which is why the tape containing this crucial person stays with Aizawa

Aizawa is the steadfast keeper of that single tape, deeply bound by the weight of this memory. His capture scarf is almost always with him, essentially becoming the personification of that cloudy film reel. He accepted this as a part of himself a long time ago, turning the memory into his anchor and compass

Yamada himself would be too terrified to look back and play something like this on his own; it's vital for him to stay afloat due to his media presence and his anger issues. Shota serves as the perfect counterweight here, providing him with a grounding, stable presence.

Oboro is featured here as a silhouette, elusive and completely recognizable. He only comes into existence while the tape is rolling

For the memory to actually play, you need Hizashi’s cassette player and Aizawa’s tape—only then does the blurred image of their past come alive.

I’d love to flesh out this concept and draw more of it, but I don't have the capacity right now. If you like this idea or want to use it, please tag/credit me as the author 🙏

I also wanted to drop all the sketches I've been too nervous to post until now

I’ve been wanting to share these sketches and headcanons for a while now. Things have been really heavy for me lately, and throwing myself into my work is the only thing that makes sense right now. If you have a moment and feel like it, I’d love to hear what my art evokes in you. It would really help me out right now. Thank you so much in advance 🙏

Idea for an Erasermic Ghostbusters AU, where Shouta sees ghosts and Hizashi uses the recorder to communicate with them. One day, they find themselves exorcising an incredibly creepy place haunted by Eri's ghost. They thought they'd done a good job of putting the little girl to rest, but they make the "mistake" of taking her doll with them. The toy becomes the anchor for Eri's ghost, who then becomes the mascot (adoptive ghost daughter) of the two, who always carry the doll with them for fear of it falling into the wrong hands. Eri is also super useful for communicating with other spirits, helping them with their work. All this mental journey just for the excuse of making this silly alternative family drawing! Sorry!

Hitoshi really hates being a psychic sometimes.

Don’t get him wrong, that skin-crawling feeling he gets when near spirits isn’t at the top of his list of fun things to do, but that’s not the crux of the issue. Oh, no, it’s the blinking awake in a completely unfamiliar basement of some rickety shack to a face full of holy water that really gets him sometimes. Which, by the way, is how he started this delightful clusterfuck of a day. It’s the small joys in life, really.

Water flies as he shakes his soaked hair free of the salty liquid, spitting out the rest and trying not to let the sting in his eyes bother him.

It’s always a bit of a shock to his system when he gets possessed, so he’s not surprised when his ears ring and the vision of the boy in front of him swoops violently. They’re gripping a water bottle with white-knuckled intensity. The crumpled plastic is covered in sharpied crosses he notes.

“Relax kid,” he says.

The freckled boy—teenager?—looks relieved; his shoulders unclench and he takes a hesitant step forwards.

“A-are you okay?” he asks quietly, eyes wide and studying him carefully from below a nest of curly green hair.

He takes a moment to consider his question, because yeah, is he ok?

His wrists ache and his mouth is parched (yes, despite the volume of holy water), and man could he devour an entire three packets of instant noodles. And, other than the splitting headache and whole-body-numbing exhaustion, he’s all-in-all been worse off before. So, yeah.

“Peachy,” he replies dryly. He wriggles his wrists to test the rope around them; it doesn’t budge. “Could you untie me?”

…

The next time Hitoshi is possessed is a bit more of a doozie, he will admit. (Although, not entirely not his fault, the ghost walked into him this time like it had some vendetta or something, and it took him by surprise. What can he say, three hours of sleep and wondering if he’s hallucinating the dark bird-like creature crawling down the main street in broad daylight is enough to distract a guy.)

Fuck, his head hurts.

He groans as he bullies his limbs into functioning as, well, limbs.

It’s dark.

The floorboards creak under his sneakers as he wobbles upright, and he shuffles forwards until he hits a wall, its plaster dusty beneath his finger tips. He inches along it until he texture changes to fabric- a curtain- and he tugs it open. A faint wash of yellow comes in from what he assumes is a sole streetlight, though he can’t see much through the dust caked on the glass. It’s enough to barely outline the—what he assumes—attack, dust-covers draped over items tucked into the other side of the small space away from the slim window.

What is it with ghosts and creepy houses anyway?

…

Shouta winces as Hizashi swipes an alcohol swab over the gash on his shoulder.

“Watch it,” he grumbles sourly, already regretting asking for assistance in stitching up the wound.

“Oh, hush,” the blonde responds, wiping down a sewing needle with the same swab. “Sit still.”

Hizashi makes quick work of stitching the cut back together, spraying it with some antiseptic before slapping a large bandaid over it.

He lets out a breath and pulls his sleeve back down.

“What were you thinking diving out into traffic like that? You’re lucky you got away with just a graze.”

Shouta huffs.

Hizashi purses his lips, frowning a little. “Another ghost then?”

…

He taps the back of his hand against Hizashi’s.

“There’s three of us on this train right?”

“Just you and me bud,” the blonde says with forced cheer.

“Noted.”

“Where?”

“About a metre behind you.”

“Wonderful.”

…

There’s a small girl in the room.

“I can,” she pauses, thinking, “fix things,” she settles on.

Her form wobbles; she hunches and crouches, hands clutched to her chest tightly.

“Hey, it’s ok-“ Hitoshi says gently.

She looks up fearfully. “Hide,” she whispers frightfully before disappearing from sight. Presumably into the floorboards.

It’s at times like these Hitoshi wishes he had ghost powers. But he supposes the whole living thing gets in the way of that. (In second thought, he decides he’s very much okay with that. Y’know, the whole being alive situation and not being brutally murdered.)

Hitoshi tries his best to contort himself below the desk that’s shoved under the drape and not choke on a cloud of dust in the process. The room chills a moment later, goosebumps prickling along the exposed skin of his arms.

Man, he really doesn’t wanna call his uncle again.

…

The trilling ringtone of Shouta’s phone wakes him at the ungodly hour of 11am. His eyelids grate upwards, focusing just long enough to pull the ringer across the screen and put the blasted thing on speaker phone. He lets it flop on his chest unceremoniously.

He hums sleepily in greeting.

“Uncle Shou?” the voice asks hesitantly, barely a whisper. “Um, I-“ the signal warbles oddly, almost static; he hears clattering and a curse, which has him bolting upright and alert-

“Hitoshi? Where are you?”

“crap- fuck- uh, I sent you my location, I’m a bit-“ he checks his screen quickly, a location marker pinging up across town. The line goes static again, then crackles back to life- “Actually,” Hitoshi says, tone suddenly calm and lilting, “everything’s under control. Don’t worry.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond before they hang up and the location marker drops off his screen.

He’s scrambling to grab his bag and shove his feet into his boots within the minute, calling Hizashi on speaker and throwing his phone on the dash of his car as he swerves onto the main road.

“You’re up earl—“

“Hitoshi’s in trouble,” he says quickly, cutting through a traffic light just as it changes from orange to red.

“Again? Damn, that kid is more of a ghost trouble magnet than you Shou.”

“You’re telling me.”

“You at least have a location this time?”

“Across town in Mustafu.”

“Alright, pick me up from work on your way?”

“That’s the plan.”

Shouta parks with slightly more vigour than necessary, wrenching on the parking break before hustling to grab his kit from the backseat.

Hizashi looks a little queasy from the rough ride, but he moves quickly to match him.

It’s not hard to find the place they’re after, because there’s only one house at the end of the road that looks abandoned and overgrown.

His nephew shudders as he draws in a breath, eyes unfocused for a moment before settling coldly on him.

Shouta swears.

Hizashi steps up beside him. “oh good, you found him,” he says cheerily. “You okay Hitoshi?”

The furniture in the room shakes, loose objects hovering in place.

Shouta puts a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder, pulling him back from Hitoshi a little.

“Not friendly?” the blonde asks hesitantly.

“Not friendly,” Shouta confirms.

The levitating objects fly at them with speed and they dive out of the way. A vase flies by his ear, shattering on the wall behind him.

Hizashi fiddles with his pack while Shouta distracts his possessed nephew, clipping on a long-nosed attachment.

Hitoshi manages to knock him back, and the wind is knocks from him as he’s sent flying back into the wall. He sees stars as the back of his head smacks with equal force. Before he can get his shit together, Hitoshi’s hands snake around his neck and he can’t breathe—

He pulls at his wrists but they’re stuck firm with superhuman strength. His fingers slip, darkness encroaching on his vision as he chokes-

He feels a wet splatter on his cheek and he’s released abruptly. He hits the floor, gasping, as he tries to collect himself. Hitoshi’s covered in slime, crumpled in a heap on the floor, and the ghost is shrieking; the radio clipped to Hizashi’s belt goes haywire—

Hizashi rushes over, pulling him up as he tries to get his wits back about him.

“Where is it Shou?” he prompts hurriedly. “Could use your eyes man.”

Shouta blinks the stars out of his vision, pulling his blaster free.

“Center of the room,” his voice grates against his vocal cords and he coughs painfully against the bruising. “Two paces forward, one left.”

He aims as best he can, Hizashi following suit, and they suck up the raging ghost.

The room falls eerily still.

Hitoshi groans as he comes-to, scraping off a thick layer of slime from his face. His expression twists into disgust.

“Thanks for the save Uncle Shou,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion.

Shouta careens into the wall as they make to leave, his balance shot.

Hizashi slips a hand around his waist, pulling his arm over his shoulder.

“Easy there,” he says gently.

Shouta startles as his hand passes through Hizashi’s, a chill numbing his fingers and crawling up his arm. Hizashi gives him a sad smile, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be.

“Busted, huh?”

Shouta’s breath catches on the lump in his throat as he spots Hizashi’s golden hair splayed out across the floorboards. “No,” he chokes, because he can’t- he can’t be-

“Use me Eri,” Hitoshi says gently, holding out a hand to the small girl. “It’s okay.”

She takes his hand hesitantly, her form shimmering as she steps into him. Hitoshi shudders and draws in a breath, eyes clouding momentarily before he’s blinking quickly. He looks at his hands, clenching and unclenching them slowly.

“Wow,” Hitoshi says softly, childlike awe coating his voice.

“Eri?” Shouta asks, pulling Hizashi’s body closer. Grey eyes meet his in response. “Can you fix him?”

Hitoshi—Eri—nods, settling a hand on Hizashi’s chest and breathing out a slow, deliberate breath. Hizashi’s ghost form winces, taking a knee as he loses his balance. “Ow,” he says.

“Hizashi-“

“It’s okay Shou. I think,” he lets out a hiss and his form flickers like static, “I think it’s a good thing-“

He fights every instinct he has screaming at him to wrench the ghost possessing his nephew away from him.

The room is quiet for a painstaking moment.

Then, Hizashi takes a breath, and emerald green eyes are blinking up at him lazily.

“Hey,” the blonde says, his voice husky like he’s just woken up, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shouta lets out a wet laugh despite himself.

“Fuck you,” he says as he swipes the dampness from his cheeks.

Hitoshi sways then careens sideways as Eri’s small form appears and shimmers weakly beside him, hands clutched at the hem of her dress.

Hizashi sits up tentatively, a hand rubbing lightly across his chest. “Thank you Eri,” he says, giving her a shaky smile. “I thought I was a goner.”

She nods shyly, her hands unclenching. “You’re welcome,” she says. Her form wavers again, fading to a washed out haze. She looks out the window as the first rays of dawn start to creep through. “I need to go.”

Hizashi nods, his smile turning sad. “It’s okay. Rest in peace yeah? You did good.” A small smile pulls across her face before she fades completely.

Shouta blinks at the blonde as his gaze lingers where she was standing. “You could see her?” he realises.

Hizashi turns to him, blinking quickly as his expression turns to puzzlement. “Apparently.”

…

Hitoshi hasn’t regretted being conscious more in his entire span of existence. Bones aching, head thumping a steady rhythm against his eyeballs, and a deep-set exhaustion that’s makes even his lungs feel like anvils, are but a few reasons he’d rather be Not Awake right now. But, alas, his doting family smacks his cheek and pokes at his ribs until he peels his eyelids open, just to receive an eye full of stubble and the bruise-coloured bags of his uncle’s face. Small joys and all that.

“Hey kid,” his uncle greets as he comes to, somehow managing to look worse than Hizashi feels. “How you feeling?”

Hitoshi groans dramatically as he rolls upright and rubs a clumsy hand through his hair. “A truck would have been better,” he mutters unhappily.

Dark eyes blink at him tiredly, a head full of black hair titling slightly in question.

Hitoshi gives him a dead-panned look. “You know what? Never mind.”

They eventually make their way downstairs and out of the abandoned house. There’s a small doll with silver hair and a dress that looks astoundingly like Eri, and Hitoshi’s chest pangs a little at the thought of the girl. Hesitantly, he takes it. Something to remember her by and all that.

They stumble out onto the street as the sun makes its way above the row of houses on the street, and they unceremoniously collapse into the car. Hitoshi leans forward into the front cab, settling the doll snugly in the empty cupholder under the radio. His uncle’s eyes flick briefly into the rear-view mirror, a touch of something soft flitting across his expression so briefly he nearly doesn’t catch it before they refocus on the road ahead.

“Let’s go home,” is all he says as they pull out onto the highway.

Hitoshi hums in affirmation, his head settling like a weight against the cool glass. As the rumble of the engine and the warm air from the heater pulls his eyelids half closed, he takes a brief moment to be grateful that the events of the day did not result in them ascending to the status of Vengeful Sprit. Like any day, he counts that as a win.

…

“Shouta!” Hizashi’s panicked voice calls across the house.

Shouta drops the onion and the knife he’d been holding and bolts down the hallway to where he’d heard the shout, expecting to find- well, he doesn’t know what he expects, but it certainly isn’t Hizashi scrambled unceremoniously on his ass, pointing like an ogling toddler at a zoo.

He follows the slender finger across the room.

There’s a small girl standing there meekly with her hands clutched in her dress, silver hair flowing softly down her back and arms covered in faint scars. She blinks up at him with wide grey eyes.

It’s Eri, he realises.

Will agree that many people don't know how to properly keep a pet peeve because of deliberate misinformation from big box petstores, though. The answer isn't 'ban pet peeves/shame people who have pet peeves' though, it's proper education.

He was a cook at the restaurant/bar I was a bartender at, and almost punched a costumer once because he overheard him talking about how women belong in the kitchen. Told me he thought women should stay out of kitchens, that cooking is a man's job and when I asked him what he thinks women should be doing, he went quiet for a moment, then proceeded to explain to me the following

"I trust a bitch to run a kitchen as much as she can run a country, they should do shit like plumbing. Or electricity. Something you can just learn to do and don't need to lead, you know?"

We had an openly gay coworker who looked like it (crop tops, dyed hair, make-up) and he was often harassed by the waiters from the football bar next door. The gay dude had the same name as the Guy, who insisted that we would specify the he isn't gay, so they just became "Name" and "Not Gay Name". He was fine with that.

Boss gave us one meal from the menu a day as a job bonus, and we had this very shy seventeen year old working with us who was already nervous around men, but Our Guy was a 6'3 dude who only stopped yelling and cursing when he was not speaking at all. If he was the one cooking that day, he'd peek out of the kitchen an hour before he'd start closing it up, and would shout at you if you haven't ordered your meal yet because he hated cooking once he already cleaned. The waitress was scared shitless of him, and so whenever he would yell at her to "fucking order already", she'd panic and just pick something.

She didn't eat much but the first time she tried to throw out almost the whole plate, he got so personally insulted that he berated her for not picking something she'd like, and demanded to know what he did wrong. He got really upset about apparently not being able to cook something that this kid would like and I'm pretty sure he started putting in extra effort to make sure she would eat it this time? It lead to him quite literally standing over her like a hawk when she ate to "see her reaction" and demand an immediate review to see what he can improve.

My friend thought he was really funny before I explained to them that I'm pretty sure he thought he was being mean (but hey he it wasn't misgendering so yay)

I like how his issue isn't with the "that shit ain't in nature" thing he mentioned, but the idea that being nonbinary is some form of self-deprivation and that they deserve a gender like everyone else.

“I don’t understand,” Chuul’s mandibles clicked nervously, “why not simply take the tool from the human.” 

Minxx’s antennae stood straight up, a sign of shock, fear, or surprise, “You don’t simply take something from a human. If you do they will either turn the ship upside down trying to find it again, or they will replace it with something else that will lead to more destruction.

“I speak quite literally by the way. Human-Mark used to have a tool he called an “Hex Key” he used it to remove the doors to the clothing storage areas in his quarters because he was bored. When he lost it he literally turned the ship upside down by reversing the gravity.” 

Chuul’s tentacles curled up defensively, “Gravity controls are locked, how-”

“No one knows how.” Minxx shook her small wings as the memory of suddenly falling upwards returned to her. “but his reasoning was that the tool would fall out of whatever hiding place it had come to rest within. He had not considered that all tables, chairs, equipment, and personnel, would also fall. It took weeks to clean.” 

To be fair to the human, Mark had only intended to reverse the gravity in his own quarters but had, quote, “pushed the wrong button.” A sentence which would send fear through any intelligent creature in the known galaxy. To be completely unfair to the human, there were still stains on the ceiling in almost every room of the ship from dropped food, chemicals, various other liquids, and even a couple of empty bowels. Some races just didn’t find the idea of resting comfortably in their sleeping quarters, only to be suddenly awakened as they fell ten feet toward a ceiling which had now become a floor. Mark was no longer allowed near environmental controls. 

Minxx continued, “He did not find this “Hex Key.” However, he did find the screwdriver and it seemed to please him when an owner was not located. The captain let him keep it since it seemed that it would keep him from doing any more strange things to locate his original lost tool. We did not consider-” she trailed off as her wings quivered again. 

There was silence between them for a few moments, Minxx was almost unwilling to continue and Chuul was almost too afraid to press for more details. Slowly, but surely, Minxx calmed herself enough to speak again. “we did not consider what he may be able to do when armed with a leverage optimiser.” 

“We were given shore leave while the ship was being fixed after the gravity incident. Thank goodness the captain took out act’s-of-human insurance or it would have cost the profits from our next five cargo hauls.” The premiums were high, but it was worth it. “After 14 rotations, human-Mark began to complain over the lack of stimulation, he called it “bored.” On the 15th rotation he disappeared for some time and he had hoped he had found some new activity to occupy his time.” 

Chuul did, but at the same time didn’t, want to know, “Had he?” 

Minxx waved her antennae in confirmation, “he had. He was located in one of the cargo holds, using the screwdriver to dismantle one of the mining probes. To, quote “see how it worked.” It was almost 90% deconstructed.” 

Mark had claimed it was almost 10% REconstructed, as he was trying to put it back together again, but couldn’t quite remember where all the parts went. In Mark’s words, the captain was a “glass half-empty kinda guy” (whatever that meant) and wrote DEconstructed on the claim form for a replacement probe. 

Chuul’s natural camouflage kicked in and they took on the colour of the chair they were sitting on. “Those probes have no screws for the leverage optimiser to use, how did he-” 

Minxx’s wings shivered again, “no one knows how. He just did.” 

Chuul was silent for a moment. He’d never served on a ship with a human before. He’d heard they made things “interesting” and if you ever got into trouble, a human was the very best thing to ever have on your side. It was why they were so many job opportunities for humans in the alliance. All the same…the thought of a human causing such damage and destruction just because of a lack of mental, or physical, stimulation was a more than a little frightening. What if the human wanted to see how the engines worked, or the weapons?!!  “Maybe I should transfer to another ship.” 

Minxx’s antennae curled, a smile to her race. “You are safe. The captain has found a way to occupy our humans free time. During our last stopover, he commissioned a shiny orb be constructed.” 

Chuul coked their head, “what is a shiny orb?” 

Minxx’s curled antennae moved up an down; a sign of mild laughter. “It is nothing. A sphere made of shiny metals, humans do like shiny things, roughly two feet diameter made of a collection of gears, levers, screws and switches which appear complex and should have a function, but do entirely nothing. The captain handed it to Human-Mark and stated: “see if you can fix this.” and Mark has been “tinkering” with it during his off-duty hours for almost 24 rotations now. He can take it apart and rebuild it as many times as he likes, but it will never perform any task.”

Chuul was just thinking about how their captain must be a genius, when the door to the mess hall opened and Human-Mark entered. He was carrying the shiny orb under one arm, and his screwdriver in the other hand. He looked around, seemingly not noticing any of the crew members. He smiled when he spotted an empty liquid container and sat down at the table with the cup. 

Chuul and Minxx watched curiously as Mark set the orb on the table in front of the cup. He used the screwdriver to tighten one small screw and flipped a switch. At once there was a whirring and clicking of clockwork, a blinking of lights hidden in the depths of the machine and even a TING from a small bell. Then a small funnel-shaped piece of metal opened up in the side of the machine and poured a small amount of hot, black, liquid into the cup.

Mark jumped to his feet, pumping the air and yelling loudly enough to send Chuul’s camouflage reflex off again. He grabbed the orb, abandoning the cup of steaming hot liquid, and moved to the door. 

Minxx stared after them, “Human-Mark?” 

Mark only paused for a second in the doorway. He was prominently displaying his predatory teeth. Chuul had read about these “smiles” but it was still disturbing to see. “Can’t stop Minxy. I gotta let the captain know I fixed his coffee maker.” 

With that, he left. Leaving Chuul and Minxx frozen in place, dumbfounded. 

—

Chuul manages to successfully transfer ships. They transfer several times, in fact, because humans are known for their pack bonding instincts and unwillingness to let even one of their chosen people disappear for any length of time; they are fairly certain that they didn’t spend enough time with Human Mark for his pack bonding to take effect, but they are taking no chances.

At last they make it on a crew that they are certain is safe from human interference and the deadly condition known as “boredom”. They make it through three whole rotations before they learn just how wrong they were.

Chuul rushes to the commissary for a soothing drink, having just missed colliding into the crew’s human near one of the transport modules. Human Molly had smiled and introduced herself, then asked if Chuul had any particular chemical sensitivities or immune reactions she should know about; Chuul had stuttered out a list of typical materials that could be deadly or even just irritating to its species that humans frequently used, terrified, and Human Molly had nodded and thanked them for the information. Chuul had escaped the interaction as quickly as possible, wings still vibrating as they order a flask of Gitrahn. Slowly, they make their way to a table.

The human had asked if they had any chemical sensitivities. And, like a fool, they had stood there and told her. Who knew what sort of damage the human could cause with that information, even accidentally?

Liniss joins them at their table, a steaming bowl in front of him. He quickly notices Chuul’s distress. “Crewmate Chuul? What’s wrong? I thought you were settling in well.”

Chuul clicks their mandibles a few times before speaking. “Please forgive me, Crewmate Liniss, but I was unaware that there was a human on the crew of this ship. I do not wish to be speciesist, but on my last posting there was a human who frequently suffered ‘boredom’ and caused much havoc and trouble for his crewmates, and I heard it is a condition that humans frequently suffer. I may need some time to adjust to working with another.” Privately, they were already making plans to transfer again, but Liniss didn’t need to know that yet.

Liniss’ ear flaps rustle in understanding. “I see why that might distress you! You need not worry, though, Crewmate Chuul; you see, our human has a Hobby.”

Chuul’s antennae twitch skeptically. “I have not heard of a ‘Hobby’ before. Is it anything like a shiny orb? The human on my previous crew was given one and managed to make it do something in a mere twenty-five rotations; I do not wish to live through a repeat of that incident.”

Liniss’ throat sac swells with amusement. “A Hobby is somewhat similar, this is true, but only in that it is something to keep a human occupied and prevent an onset of boredom. Hobbies, however, come with specific limitations on the materials that may be used and how they may be performed. Rather than taking things apart, Human Molly uses fiberous threads to create things, many of which she gives to her fellow crewmates and some of which are quite ingenious.” Liniss gestures to his head. “Do you see my cranial covering?”

“I do,” Chuul says, startled by the change of subject. They had been admiring it since Liniss joined them. “The pattern work is quite fascinating! And it appears to be quite comfortable, as well.”

“Human Molly made it for me,” Liniss tells Chuul with pride.

Chuul’s mandibles go limp and they almost drop their flask. “Truly?”

“Yes! She says she created it with the human craft-hobby known as ‘knitting’, though she also said she usually prefers the one called ‘crochet’. Do not be surprised if she gifts you with something before the cycle is out; she claims that she does not have enough room to keep all of the items she makes for her hobby, and while she can and does sell them at trading ports at an incredible profit, it seems to stimulate her pack bonding and pleasure hormones to make items specifically for her crewmates as well. Has she already asked you if you have chemical sensitivities?” At Chuul’s assent, Liniss continues. “Then she may already be planning a gift for you, to ‘welcome’ you to the crew. She takes great pride in creating things that the recipients will enjoy, and frequently points out that a bad reaction to a material used will surely ruin the recipient’s enjoyment.”

Chuul’s wings were quivering again, this time with a cautious hope. “And you have had no problems with ‘boredom’ from Human Molly?”

“Only once or twice,” Liniss admits, “when Human Molly was injured and unable to perform her hobby. Both of those times, we were able to mitigate the destructive effects of ‘boredom’ by assigning crewmates to stay with her during waking hours and make sure she had entertainment available. I believe Klynz even managed to successfully introduce her to Urestrenian broadcast programs, and they now watch new episodes of their favorites together as they are released! Human Molly even crafted a lookalike of Klynz’s favorite character from the broadcast as a result. Rest assured, Crewmate Chuul, as long as you take the right precautions and make sure humans have at least one hobby and the correct materials to perform it, there should be no trouble at all caused by ‘boredom’.”

I really wanted to draw something nice for this AU

And I thought, wouldn't it be cool to draw them at the place they meet up?

Awesome! There was just one small problem, I can't draw backgrounds for the life of me!!! There Is a reason why I don't do backgrounds !!!

It was cool though, I'll probably practice more so I can improve my landscapes n stuff

Close ups ✨

Photos by Oboro [part5(end)]

1 | 2 | 2.5 | 3 | 3.5 | 4 | 5

Humans are space orcs idea where other aliens don’t do that so looking at human eyes constantly shaking is real unsettling. Theres a lot of fun to be had about the intensity of eye contact, the almost hypnotic effects of their gaze, the difficulty in ambushing them, ect.