Echo Art Pt.2 - W.I.P.

Echo Art Pt.2 - W.I.P.

It's coming together!

Click here to go see part one.

click for part 3

Finally erased the background. Like the genius I am, I made the rookie mistake of painting the character art on the same layer as my background wash. Wooooooopsie.

That's alright though, it'll be easy to re-do later and I love the effect I've got for his base skintones and light reflection.

I promise I'm going to paint that hand. I'm working with a decent reference picture now to get the knuckles and anatomy right -- I am, to be honest, very rusty with my visual art and anatomy right now. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever painted a back-view of a shirtless male.

Anyhow... Progress has been made! lots more to do.

It's coming together!

Finally erased the background. Like the genius I am, I made the rookie mistake of painting the character art on the same layer as my background wash. Wooooooopsie.

That's alright though, it'll be easy to re-do later and I love the effect I've got for his base skintones and light reflection.

I promise I'm going to paint that hand. I'm working with a decent reference picture now to get the knuckles and anatomy right -- I am, to be honest, very rusty with my visual art and anatomy right now. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever painted a back-view of a shirtless male.

Anyhow... Progress has been made! lots more to do.

Done on my ipad with an apple pencil.

WIP: A Bad Batch choose-your-own-adventure story

A work in progress. I've been experimenting with how to put together an interactive story with this neat tool called Inklewriter. The first one I tried was Twine, but I like the ease and gui of Inkle better.

For now, it's going to offer a romance story arc for either Crosshair, Echo, or neither, but there'll be interactions with all the members of the Bad batch as the Reader navigates the life and plot of living on Kamino. I can always add new scenes, chapters, events/interactions, etc.

If there's interest, I'll eventually update the screenshot images that illustrate the story with my own drawings of the boys. I can also eventually add new romance plot arcs, but since it's my first time making an interactive story this ambitious, I want to get the first pair of options down and the main story branch drafted.

In other words, yet another project to dabble in with my freetime.

~

I crave feedback. If you read and liked it, are excited for more, I'd love to know!

@kark-trooper-echo

I love how we've all collectively agreed that if Omega swears, it's because she picked it up from Echo

Seconded! I’ve been in an art block for months and this has inspired me to get back into drawing.

much love for the RPer’s of tumblr

I want to state that I am loving the group that started the Bad Batch RP as if the characters are communicating on the holonet and they can be absolutely hilarious or just darn adorable. I want to thank you guys for making me smile and laugh whenever I log on this site. You guys are the best!!! Love you all!!

The Little Details

I got lightheaded today eating a delicious fruit pie, because for one terrible moment, it looks just like the texture of an injury one of my critters had. (She's doing well and healing <3)

So, needless to say, it inspired this little Crosshair drabble.

<•>

You're standing in the kitchen, flour on the counter, on your face, in your hair, and generally disheveled as you stir a large spoon in a big bowl of mashed fruit. The men are off exploring town with their little sister, keeping her entertained and no doubt enjoying the chance to relax, themselves.

In your attempts to be as tidy as possible for a quick clean-up before they get back, you've... Managed to make quite the mess. You stir the jumbled blend of berries and fruit together, the dark red and purple berries quickly overtaking all the colors, turning the rainbow slowly into an even pulp.

It's taking ages though, and your arm and shoulders are getting very tired from using the spoon. You've always done this by hand, so you never bothered to invest in a pestle.

You glance at teh window, noting the first sun is just starting to set. The men should be back soon.

You stare at the uneven, chunky mixture, then quickly clean the spoon off, scraping it clean with the pads of your fingers. You smash your palms into the mix and squeeze, and begin knuckle-kneading-grabby-smashing the fruits into a pulp.

The change in pace and the ease on your arms is immediate, and you grin widely, thinking in delight how you'll be able to surprise Omega and the boys when they come back. You think you'll be able to get it in the oven fast enough, they can question the scent when they come back.

Hunter will probably know exactly what it is, of course, but you think the Sarge will play along for Omega's sake, if not his brothers'.

You humm to yourself as you knead the mixture, already zoned in what you're doing, occasionally cleaning the bigger chunks that get stuck to your arms off to add them to the active mixing area.

A mug shatters on the floor behind you, and something cold splashes against your ankles. Your reaction is immediate as you spin around, heart stuck in your throat, only to find Crosshair staring at you like he's seen a ghost.

You reacted so fast, that you actually catch the last bit of his toothpick's journey to the floor, where it lands without a splash in a thin puddle of coffee. It covers the floor of your kitchen in an impressive splatter strewn with the wreckage of one of the clay cups you served at breakfast this morning.

You had no idea the sniper was still home, he'd been so quiet. You don't think he left with the others and came back -- he may walk with nearly unnatural silence to his steps, but there is no hiding the rusty groan of your entryway door sliding open.

"Are-- Are you okay?" you blurt as you nearly move to rush over to him, your instincts screaming at you that something is wrong and he needs help, except nothing seems to be wrong, and you can't figure out what is so terrifying about your kitchen that he's...

Stars, he's shaking. He's not wearing his full set of armor, just his blacks and part of the leg plates, so it is far more visible than it would have been otherwise. You forget your hesitation, deftly walking around the shattered pottery without having to think overmuch about it, not caring about the coffee getting on your bare feet.

Crosshair's mouth is open like he wants to speak, but he just keeps staring at you with those tortured, panicked eyes. Like he's not certain if he should believe that the things around him are safe. Like he's questioning if you're real.

You want to reach up to touch him, provide some physical form of grounding comfort, because he looks like he's parsecs away from you and wherever that place he's gone is, it's not good. But your hands are covered in goop--

Long fingers wrap around your elbows, just above the fruit stains, with a deliberate strength that startles you into speechlessness as his thumbs hook over the inner bend. He's breathing shallowly, in short, sharp breaths that barely make it past his parted lips.

"Crosshair, what's wron--?"

"You're not hurt?" he says it like he's just seen you get shot dead in front of him, then miraculously come back to life, and something in the way his raspy voice asks that question has a knife twisting in your gut as your heart squeezes painfully.

"No--?" You gasp as the realization hits you. "I'm-- I'm making pie filling, with fruit," you explain breathlessly. You hold your hands up as best you can, the bits of fruit obvious this close up. Crosshair tucks his chin fractionally to stare down at them, his grip on you tightening a fraction.

It's just shy of painful, but you barely even notice.

"I'm okay, I'm not hurt," you assure him gently, repeating it over again until he's finally meeting your gaze with those lost, coppery gems.

"Don't... Don't tell them," he says abruptly, voice hoarse. "About this."

You smile as gently as you can, the only way you know how to face such sharp anxiety, hoping to sooth its jagged edges.

"About what?" you ask quietly, and watch the relief flood his eyes before he lets go of you as quickly as he'd latched on, and takes an awkward step back.

You expect him to leave, but to your surprise, Crosshair immediately turns to work, asking you where the towels and dustpan are as he already knows you don't own any cleaning droids to delegate the task to. You almost tell him that no, it's alright, you'll take care of things--

--but he needs this, you realize; something to do, a task to focus on. So you tell him where they are as you quickly wash your arms and hands off. By the time he's done cleaning up all the bits of pottery, you're discreetly pouring the less-than-perfectly-mashed pie filling into the deep, round crust.

You don't try to be fancy with the top, you get the dough on as fast as possible without being sloppy, and neatly slide it into the oven.

When you turn around, Crosshair is just standing up from the newly cleaned floor. He tosses the used rags into the laundry basket sitting in your hallway, something the men have no doubt seen you do several times during their stay.

"Hey," you say softly. It immediately catches his attention. "If you want to talk, or if you just want company in the silence, I can do either," you invite.

Crosshair fixes you with a long, measured look, then glances away. Before he fully turns to leave the kitchen, his head dips once in a brief, but deliberate, nod you know he knows you saw.

For the rest of their stay, every now and then, you find yourself in the sudden company of the quiet sniper. Particularly when his brothers are being boisterous, as you act like a peaceful shield from their antics. They're too polite risk bothering their host, even Wrecker, who really likes your cooking. Crosshair doesn't say a word, not even a greeting, but he never has to. You smile every time he shows up, a silent invitation, and the edges of his face soften.

This is what I just saw:

Don't die, Lieutenant!

[ vocorder clearing ] AH, IS THIS HOW PRANKS WORK? AH, WAIT, I HAVE IT NOW. AHEM. THIS SENTENCE IS FALSE... DID I DO THIS PRANKING RIGHT? I AM NOT CERTAIN ABOUT THIS.

Gonk... gonk... gonk!