#emmerick

Tagged by @chevvy-yates--thanks!! :3

I haven't been taking a lot of virtual photography lately--I've been more focused on writing/character building, and doing another cyberpunk playthrough. I still need to get a new flashdrive before I can move all my photos over, and keep forgetting.

Character Creation:

It's mostly been writing snippets and the process of designing my new OC, Ily. He of course has been fighting me tooth and nail, but he's almost done--figuring out his hair, and finshed with complexion, and now it's mostly just tattoos. I've never done custom tattoos before and was frustrated that stock images weren't turning up what I was thinking, so I guess we're doing them from scratch 😂😅

Screenshots:

Writing:

Do you know why you’re here?” He’s not sure if the man expects an answer, foolishly optimistic, of if it’s rhetorical. Judging by the way the man’s eyes regard him, he suspects the latter. He saves him the guessing and answers anyway.

“Because you’re a fucking gonk who’s wasting their time?” The man appears unfazed by the sharpness in his words, stony face hardly twitching.

“You’re in a precarious situation, Ilya. I don’t think you realize how much.”

I’ve taken some shots that belong to the Val / Emmerick fic. I am quite happy with the result. But don't ask me how long it took me. (Now I know every idle animation of Emmerick...) Damn, I just love these two together *swoon*

"This is the sixth time you've turned up here this week."

"Fifth actually," she says managing to hide the smugness and amusement in her voice, he'd noticed.

He grunts out a noncommittal response as he checks her out. He'd be remis in his job if he didn't give the incoming patrons a once over. His attention is immediately grabbed by her top, shiny, short and teasing. Exposed flesh is nothing new at the Afterlife, but as she quirks her eyebrow at him a smile at the corner of her unreadable eyes, she knows her top has done its job.

"Err, um... New top?" He has never been good with words, let alone small talk preferring to be the stoic silent type. But he still felt the need to fill the silence between them.

“Yes, it is,” she says with a smile. It might be just his imagination, but he swears she puffs her chest out at him.

He lets out another noncommittal grunt, “Head on in.”