umasabirah
42 posts
Latest Posts by umasabirah
Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?
An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.
#art
Derrick Pthalo, semi-retired henshin hero, has decided to take up magick as a hobby. Along the way he's gathered a diverse group of ladies to help him on his way. Life should be easy, but strange monsters seem to follow Derrick wherever he goes. What is the secret of Neo Teal Crisis?
An idea for a new story brought about by seeing multiple posts encouraging artists to make "really weird niche self-indulgent" stuff. I'm not sure where it would go, but I do have a prologue chapter written in my head.
reminder to worldbuilders: don't get caught up in things that aren't important to the story you're writing, like plot and characters! instead, try to focus on what readers actually care about: detailed plate tectonics
New story on Vocal:
people moving to tumblr from twitter please fucking reblog art likes literally dont do anything except make the artist upset bc they have 2 reblogs and 55 likes
New microfiction on Vocal:
reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™
Me whilst writing: This is a masterpiece…I am a literary genius
Me whilst editing my writing: I am an abomination to the writing community
Project: Akimoto
I was hoping to have this be a new print to sell at AZCAF last week…but then I had to go and catch COVID.
Anyway, enjoy the latest designs for Archanger, Jillian Akimoto and her alter-ego, Cutie Mask!
New horror story on Vocal:
https://vocal.media/horror/dr3-m-inc0l0r
Inspired by a crazy dream I had last night:
Zori had no idea what she was getting herself into when she stole an extra roll at dinner:
Hazel slashed her borrowed sword through the spiny, overgrown vines, creating a jagged path to the crumbling castle. She was grateful for her secondhand armor–she could hear the thorns scraping angrily against the metal, longing to tear her flesh but unable to gain purchase. She wondered how many knights had failed simply because they could move no further without a steed (surely, no horse would endure the torture of a thousand tangled scratches) or blinded by forgetting to secure the visor of their helmet. Hazel’s visor may have been twisted in spots and rusting in others, but she had ensured it would hold against the terrors of the vines. She was thankful for the months of studying she’d ensured prior to her quest. She’d snuck into her father’s shop to repair her brother's weathered armor as best she could, and she appreciated her efforts had not been in vain.
Hazel was panting by the time she reached the other side of the vines and beheld the castle. She heard rustling behind her and turned to watch the foliage wrapping unnaturally around itself to fill the hole she’d made.
“Well,” she breathed, “that’s unnerving.”
In spite of her misgivings, she moved toward the castle. The keep was surrounded by a moat, and the only access an aging drawbridge that was shut tight. Hazel peered over the edge of the moat. There were no monsters lurking in the murky waters, but if she fell in with full armor, she would quickly sink to her death. She could see the remnants of metal within the muddy depths and glimpsed what may have been a bony arm. The water wasn’t deep, but it was enough.
Undaunted, Hazel pulled her crossbow from her back and checked the knotwork on the rope she'd tied to the bolt. She put her foot in the stirrup and pulled the string back to the catch, loaded the bolt, aimed, and fired. The bolt shot true and lodged itself firmly between two large stones at the top of the wall. Hazel yanked the rope as hard as she could, and when it held, she leaned back with her full weight. The bolt remained solidly in place. She wrapped the rope around her arm. This was a moment of truth–she could walk away now and avoid the possibility of a watery grave, or she could take a literal leap of faith. She closed her eyes and lept...
https://vocal.media/pride/the-knight-s-error
Moonlight rippled unnaturally on the lake as the car rounded the curve to the final stretch of dirt road before we reached the township of Elishire. I appreciated the ride–I knew I would have gotten lost in these twisting country backroads. I already longed for the lights and traffic and pavement of my city.
My name is Mary Ingstaff. I am a marriage consultant. I am here to assist with the marriage of Michelle Springs to Ezekiel Banks. I repeated these sentences like a mantra in an attempt to calm my nerves and stave off homesickness. I normally loved traveling for work, but leaving my own new wife at home put a strain on this trip.
If this job works out, Renee and I will be set for a while, I reassured myself, no more out-of-town gigs, no more flights, no more weird little towns. I looked over at my partner, Jake Stevens, who was somehow dozing with his head resting against the cold window. Aside from his many other talents, he was able to sleep anywhere. I’d always envied this ability.
We’d taken this job because of the pay–the entire township was chipping in for this wedding because of…reasons. Ezekiel Banks basically owned this place, so the townspeople had no choice but to contribute. The recent disappearance of his first wife, Constance–whom he’d supposedly divorced before her extremely convenient exit–had put extra pressure on the town to make this wedding special.
Banks’ very young wife, Michelle Springs, was barely out of high school. Poor Michelle, I thought, there must be rumors. There were always rumors in these small towns...
What Happened Inside the Room (continuation of "From Across the Room" and "From Inside the Room")
Her face swung to the door as she heard multiple locks click from the outside. The man from the cafe entered the room, smiling his icy smile.
“Well, hello! You’re finally awake.” He said.
“What is this? What’s going on?” She said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
“I’ve been watching you,” he said, stepping closer to her, “You have no friends, no family, no lovers. No one to miss you if you disappeared.”
“I have friends,” she said, faintly.
“None that I saw. Are all of your friends online?”
She looked away, embarrassed.
“How sad. Don’t worry,” he took one last long step towards her, bridging the short distance between them, “I’ll be your friend. You don’t have to go back to that tiny, lonely apartment of yours. You can live here, with me! You can even have your own room all the way down here in the basement.”
“Why are you doing this?” She said as tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, feigned pity in his voice, “Because I can.”
Her heart rate increased as he climbed over her supine body. She waited until his position was just right. She jerked her leg, ripping the ropes from the bed, and slammed her knee directly into his crotch. With a guttural moan, he curled into a ball, helpless. She freed her other leg and both arms with a series of quick, decisive twists, then rolled both herself and the man over and off the bed. She had reversed their positions in a matter of seconds. She smiled as she pinned him to the floor. Her teeth glittered in the dim light.
“Too bad you weren’t paying very good attention while you were stalking me,” she purred. She relished the confusion in his eyes, “You didn’t choose me, sweetheart. I chose you. I know what you’ve been doing down here, and you’re never going to do it to another person.” Her teeth grew long and sharp as he watched in terror, and she plunged them into his neck. She guzzled the hot liquid that gushed from his veins. He thrashed against her inhumanly-strong grip, but his struggles became more and more weak as she drained him. Just before he became unconscious, she lifted her head and looked at him. Her dagger-like teeth dripped crimson.
“You know, I really should keep you alive for a while--torture you the way you tortured them,” she sneared at him, “But I’m not a monster.” Her scarlet lips returned to his throat. His body gave one final twitch, then lay motionless.
The Library, or Back to Before
I want to go to the
Library,
The one that exists only
In my mind
When I was a child
And couldn’t read
Reviews in my hand,
When I had to rely
On my mom to drive,
And I'd wander, until
I found something
That struck me.
I want to return
To a time I was still finding
How to feel,
Before I understood
How I am supposed to think.
The freedom in
Not knowing,
In nothing
Expected.
I yearn for my wonder,
The joy in simple things
Before I learned
How much can be taken
So quickly.
That thrill
Of discovery.
I don’t want to know
The pain of grief, of loss,
I pine for the naïvete
Of before she was
Gone.
I miss the me
Before I knew
What I was capable of
And what I was not.
Take me back
To possibilities
Before life and death
Crushed everything.
Make a Wish
I grip at your base,
Twist and pull
Displace
Your happy yellow blooms,
Beloved of bees.
I rip out your roots,
Stuff you into a bag.
Beneficial, nutritional, medicinal,
Hated by humans
Because you can't be
Marked, marketed, bought or sold;
You are a Survivor.
You thrive despite
Constant disruption.
You'll still be there,
Poking through the cracks
Your head turning fluffy white
To alight on the passing wind
Or the breath of a child
Who hasn't learned your sin.