creature short

The Fresno Nightcrawler

The Fresno Nightcrawler, also known as the Fresno Alien, has been spotted in both Fresno and Yosemite. It is a short creature of about 4 feet, extremely thin, and has no arms. It has also been seen wearing a white cloak. 

Certain Native Americans in the surrounding area claim the Nightcrawlers have existed on Earth for a considerable amount of time and come from a planet consisting majorly of swampland. Their long legs are thought to help them maneuver through the boggy terrain.

(A table of contents is available. This series will remain open for additional posts and the table of contents up-to-date as new posts are added.)

Part Six: A Creature Who Is Also A Character

If you’ve read The Horse and His Boy from the Chronicles of Narnia series, you doubtless remember Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah (or Bree for short, a lovely call-out from Lewis to Tolkien and The Prancing Pony in Bree). In fact, I don’t think you can read the book without remembering good ol’ Bree with his pride and his snarky comments and growing friendship with Hwin. Both the talking horses of the book are distinct. They have personalities that are easily identified and easily attributed to their experiences growing up. Bree became self-confident from years of captivity as a war horse among non-talking horses that seemed witless to him; by comparison, he was a genius, able to understand what his human riders commanded easier and faster than the other non-talking horses. Hwin, on the other hand, while also captured and raised among non-talking horses, is shy and more logical and reasonable as one of the stable horses for a noble house. These two are fantastic foils to each other throughout the story. But it’s easy to take two talking creatures and build them into full characters–they can tell you about their background and their experiences; they can throw out jokes and win hearts through glorious conversations. Think about other creature companions, though, ones like Hedwig who reveled in flying free and had an attitude sometimes, or the trusting, loving relationship that builds between Jakkin and Heart’s Blood the dragon in Jane Yolen’s The Pit Dragon series.

Each one of the most beloved, best remembered creature companions become favorites because of one thing: They are memorable characters. They have personalities and they are a part of who the main character is. Making sure your creature companions have personalities is an important step toward making your creature worth having. Just with extraneous characters who don’t fill any gap in the plot, creature companions must be put to work, too. To build that relationship both with the plot, the characters, and the audience, start with the small stuff: Who is this creature?

Who are they?

Starting at the very basics of personality, begin by asking yourself who this creature is. Where do they come from? Do they have family? What makes them happy or sad? Even if your creatures are regular animals or are mythical creatures that don’t have the power of speech, I still recommend knowing what makes the creature laugh. Maybe they don’t laugh like we do, but what makes them happy? How do they express that feeling?

Personality is as much expressed by behavior as it is by speech. Be sure you’re taking corresponding animal behaviors into account, including the bits combined to create your mythical creature. There’s a character in an old, old set of children’s books, Gink from Patricia Coombs’ Dorrie the Little Witch series. Gink is a black cat who follows the main character about, and while he has no lines, the cat appears in every picture of every book in the 20-book series. (Though Gink has no specified gender, my own cat Gink was male, so forgive me if I’m mildly biased.) Despite his silent role and few actions that are directly related in the plot (some! He does help from time to time!), Gink becomes an entire character of his own through his behind-the-scenes, background participation in the story with the audience. His curiosity, playfulness, and warnings–in short, his reactions–to Dorrie’s plights give the audience a distinct impression of who Gink is.

Think about when your creature will show affection and how, versus showing annoyance, anger, caution, hunger, and interest. What makes them curious? What will help them become more trusting and how does that trust manifest? What will always draw them in and what will they stay away from? 

What do they want?

It’s said every character, no matter how little screen-time they receive, should have a goal. Whether that’s getting a coffee or rescuing their family, everyone wants something. If you have a pet at home, you know it’s true even with them. Bruce Coville’s Into the Land of the Unicorns introduces Lightfoot, young unicorn prince whose ideals change as he accompanies the human Cara in her endeavors to save the world of Luster. He begins the tale wanting nothing more than to defy the fate his family has left him. He’s willing to leave every single one of them behind to do it, too, but by the end of the series, that desire has changed. As a character, he evolves, as all good characters should.

Be aware of why your creature is out there and why they’re willing to accompany your characters on whatever it is they’re up to. How does agreeing to do this help them get further toward their want? Maybe it’s just the security of knowing there are others to protect against dangers, or the promise of food at a regular pace, but it could also be their own quest to find something or someone, or even to save their homeland from certain destruction. Wants are small or large, but they must be present if you hope to build off of them and create real, natural, and effective actions for this creature to take.

What’s the worst thing they could face?

You’re going to put your characters through some Things™, and we all know it. Reactions cover a wide spectrum for all characters and your creatures will be no different, because, after all, we want them to be characters, too. So why not treat them that way when making them? You can’t know how broad their reactions will span until you’ve put some thought into the worst thing that could happen. This is more than just their worst fear. It branches into the idea of who they become when faced with difficult situations, as well. What could turn them not only into a cowering creature but also the worst version of themselves? What kinds of tactics would they be willing to engage in if things go horribly wrong? It helps you touch on morals when dealing with these creatures to whom you may not immediately ascribe the idea of having morals. Make them just as round as your real-life humanoid characters by making sure you know what they’re willing to do, how far they’ll go, and where the line is drawn in the metaphorical sand.

Long story short, your creatures are characters too! I can’t be alone in watching a couple of fish in a tank, pointing at one and saying, “That one’s got an attitude!” In a similar way, you should be paying attention to your creatures’ personalities–mainly that they have one. Remember that you don’t want them to be stock characters, so treat them like your other humanoid creatures when creating them. Without distinct personality, they cease to be companions and simply remain cardboard space fillers. They should be important! You want them to be memorable! Work on them like people and help to round them out.

Next up: Speech!

Drabble Prompt 21 (Reader x Remus Lupin)

Drabble prompts -  songs , request more here

Request: Could you do #21 with young Remus Lupin?! 💖💖

Prompt: 21 Sweet Creature – Harry Styles

You jumped as Remus slammed the door to his dorm, thank full no one was around at the moment to hear the ongoing argument between you and your boyfriend of two years. Dating Remus was wonderful but the full moon would sometimes put him in terrible moods.

This month Remus was feeling as though you deserved better, how could you date a monster like him for this long, he was heartbroken by his own thoughts and you tried your best to reassure him.

You opened the door and walked in and sat on his bed beside him, his head in his hands, tears dripping through his fingers.

“Y/N we are so young how can you spend your life, waste your life with me, don’t you have plans, I’m just going to hold you back” you rubbed soft circles onto his lower back and he sobbed in between words.

“Rem, neither of us have plans, we don’t know where we are going, but I know I that I belong with you, wherever we end up” you spoke quietly and calmly knowing how easy it was for him to go from sad to angry at this time.

Remus just moved further away from you and you sighed, you were both so stubborn sometimes.

“But Y/N we will never have a normal life, or a normal home, I’m a monster.”

You tried once more to get through the emotional barrier he was trying to put up, you lifted his chin up to look at you but he closed his eyes, you lightly brushed away his tears on his wet face and kissed all around his pink cheeks.

“oh rem, my sweet, sweet creature, you are my home.”

You weren’t sure whether it was the nickname or the choice of words but at that moment Remus finally broke and fell into your arms. You took advantage of that and pulled him down to lie on his bed with you.

You pulled the blanket over the two of you and pushed his hair out of his face, enjoying his cuddles and watching him drift off to sleep. 

You hoped this moment would never end but you knew in a few short minutes a marauder would barge through that door, you hoped for time to stop in moments like this, but it never did.

One day, one rhyme- Day 452

Away among the willow trees
Is where it lays its head
Down past the waving ears of wheat
Along the river bed.
You’ve probably heard the stories
The children like to tell.
Probably think that’s all they are,
That all is safe and well.
But I’ve been on the river bank
And I’ve seen where it hides.
I’ve seen the claws and eyes of black,
The tracks formed where it glides.
I can’t unsee the things I’ve seen,
I’ve nightmares night and day
But you have no such visions yet,
And you can stay away.
Away from those cursed willow trees,
The jaws that catch and chew,
Away from icy fingers and
The tomb he’s built for you.

The Donor Story - Part 1

Papyrus: Faris, are you available at the moment?

Faris: Uh, sure.. What is it?

Papyrus: There is someone here I’d like you to meet!

Faris: And who might that be exactly..?

Papyrus: A good friend of mine! *glances back* You can come out now~!

*After a moment or two, a short reptilian creature peeks out from behind Trisha*

???: O-Oh. I guess that’s my cue.

*she steps out, adjusting her blouse, then waddles over toward Faris and Papyrus with an awkward smile*

Papyrus: Faris, I’d like you to meet Alphys! She’s a doctor who works at a hospital back in my hometown. My brother and her used to be working partners there.

Alphys: I-I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you in person. This is.. kind of exciting *takes a step closer to Faris, eyes sparkling with interest* I-I’ve heard so much about you. You were qu-quite the troublesome one back then.. but I see that you’re starting to get along with others again *she covered her mouth and giggled. She found the flower crown on Faris’ head rather adorable*

Faris: Mm.. *his cheekbones redden slightly, and he slips the flower crown off his head. He was a little embarrassed*

Alphys: *her brows furrow* But I can’t help but wonder.. H-How is your friend doing? Papyrus told me what happened, and it left me qu-quite stunned that someone would do such a thing. Has she recovered okay?

Faris: *blinks* … *looks away* She’s fine. I healed her up… but she still doesn’t want to interact with others.

Alphys: *bobs her head* And that, I can understand. I’m t-terribly sorry that happened. You have my sympathy.

*Faris doesn’t speak up*

Alphys: *fingers fidgeting, she feels unease from the silence* S-So um… i-if it isn’t too much to ask.. mm.. m-may I take a closer look at your soul?

Faris: *glares at Alphys*

Alphys: *waves her hands anxiously* D-Don’t worry, I won’t do anything rash! I-I promise! I-I’m just curious to see how much has changed since my l-last inspection of the soul, which was.. qu-qu-quite a long time ago.

Faris: … *steps back, hand clutching his chest* I don’t know… The last time I exposed my soul, I got a needle stuck in it.

Alphys: Y-Yes, I know. Papyrus told me about it… I-In fact, he gave me that sample of the soul fragment in hopes that I might be able to recreate the body structure of your original form.

Faris: *eyes widen* What..? *glances at Papyrus*

Papyrus: *smiles warily*

Alphys: U-Unfortunately, the fragment was so small, a-and it had been outside the vessel for so long, that it couldn’t sustain itself and had… degenerated to dust before I could proceed.

Faris: *focuses back on Alphys with a jerk of his head*

Alphys: *raises her hands* I-I’m not implying that it’ll happen to the rest of your fragment! I-It’s still being maintained inside Sans, so you should be fine… I-I just want to be sure that.. that incident involving the hypodermic needle hadn’t caused any serious trauma.

Faris: … *contemplates, then sighs and places his hand over his chest. As he pulls his hand away, the soul hovers above his palm*

*Alphys readjusts her bifocals and leans in to examine the soul. Upon closer inspection, she notices a faint grey ring surrounding the darkened spot inside the soul. Alphys taps under her chin curiously*

Alphys: Hmm… your fragment still seems to be in fair condition. I-I think it might be j-just enough~

Faris: *places his soul back inside his body* Enough..? Enough for what?

Papyrus: *rests his hand on Faris’ shoulder* Remember how much you’ve been wanting to have your own body? Well… while you were away, I wanted to work on a surprise for you. I was hoping, with Alphys’ help, we could maybe recreate your body using the soul fragment we had… *slumps* but you know how that turned out.

Faris: Would it have been really possible? Making a body just by using a piece of my soul?

Alphys: I-It was only in theory. There was no telling whether it’d actually work out or not. It’s never been done before. A-Attempting it again would risk the possibility of more of your soul degenerating.

Faris: I see…

Papyrus: But! We have an alternative!

Faris: To creating a body for me?

Alphys: N-Not exactly… You see, one of my patients at the hospital had overheard of your dilemma, a-a-and he has volunteered to donate his body to you.

Faris: Really? Why..?

Alphys: U-Um… i-it’s best if you discuss the matter with him in person, but we’ll need to be quick. I don’t know h-h-how much time we have left, considering the stage he’s in at this point… L-Let’s hurry now. I’ll take you to him.

Faris: Wait… hold on… *looks behind him* .. There’s something I need to do first.

Alphys: Time is of the essence. We m-mustn’t waste more than what’s been lost already.. *frowns* I-I’m sorry, but can it wait till after the procedure? That is.. i-if you are willing to accept his offer.

Faris: I’m sorry.. but this is something I really need to do first *he gives the flower crown to Papyrus* Hold onto this for me *he then takes off before disappearing from view*

Alphys: *reaches out for Faris* W-Wait! *but is too late. Faris is already out of sight*

Things I Associate Harry Styles' Album Tracks With
  • <p> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b><p></b> <b>Meet Me In The Hallway:</b> Roaming the streets together in the wee hours of the morning, fresh hotel linen, watching someone play an acoustic guitar for you, lovers, morphine.<p/><b>Sign Of The Times:</b> comforting hand holding and words, awareness, David bowie, the sky, Hollywood, being pushed away emotionally, wind slipping through your fingers, fantasies of running away together.<p/><b>Carolina:</b> Old bar lights, wining, small towns, sweet quick glances, good first impressions, the Beatles, vinyl, a breath of fresh air, good vibes.<p/><b>Two Ghosts:</b> Change, pale moonlight, Old feelings, Polaroids, separate sides of the bed, refrigerator light, already moved on.<p/><b>Sweet Creature:</b> laughing, short phone calls, stability, honeysuckle, airplane window clouds, a loose hug, but always wanting a tighter and longer one.<p/><b>Only Angel:</b> messy bed, waiting by the bedroom door, neck kisses, the rolling stones, carefree, meeting at your favorite spot, calling someone your angel.<p/><b>Kiwi:</b> dancing, cigarettes & rosé, privacy, a little black party dress, nose candy, wild urgent kisses.<p/><b><p/><b>Ever since new York:</b> Longing, white walls, goodbye forehead kisses, daydreaming, busy streets, knowing someone like the back of your hand.<p/><b>Woman:</b> pacing, sassiness, movie nights, jealousy, long touches, flowers, forced smiles, damning someone, potential.<p/><b>From The Dining Table:</b> Sleepiness, liquor, empty hotel rooms, grocery store aisles, distance, waiting by the phone, old t-shirts, biting your tongue, kissing someone but all you taste is the person your missing.<p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p><p/></p>
  • Kaden: (hanging off canyon cliff struggling to get up) Tachyon! Brother! Help me!
  • Tachyon: (grabs onto Kaden's hands and smiles evilly) Long live the king...
  • Tachyon: (struggles to throw Kaden off the edge because of his small stature)

anonymous asked:

Could you do the tfp insecticons getting a new queen after all they've been through?( megatrons abuse, being forcibly controlled by airrachnid/ Their recent escape from the moon) so they don't trust anyone, but this new queen just blows them away and even gives them names and not just "drone"

You didn’t specify who the queen was so I took the liberty of choosing one :)

Soundwave’s Log



Location:??? Shadowzone

Attempt to open Groundbridge:Unsuccessful. Attempt to open Spacebridge: Unclear. Portal opened in Location: Unknown. Portal opened to Location: Unknown.

Lazerbeak: Recharging. Energon levels: Low.

Will now attempt other means of contact…


           Her studies were paying off, Franki decided as she hopped into bed. She was usually quick to absorb information, but botany turned out to be a struggle. Hailey was a patient teacher, however, and she was eventually introduced to the relationship between plants and insects. To say it was fascinating would be putting it dully. Frankie was captivated by the world of entomology. How could such tiny, short lived creatures be so utterly essential to life? To her bugs were the most interesting cog in the big science machine that was the universe. She giggled and tugged her pigtails out, untangling the knots before falling back onto her pillow. Yes, she was glad she stuck it out for botany.


           Heatwave couldn’t believe his optics. Honest-to-Primus could not believe them. It had to be a dream. Doc Green had not called at one in the morning because a portal spit up insecticons in Frankie’s bedroom. Frankie wasn’t cuddled up to giant metal bugs in a pillow nest. She was not naming them, for Primus’ sake!

           Heatwave’s obviously-dream-self reached through the window and tugged Frankie away, making the insecticons hiss.

           “Get away from them!” he shouted. “They’re dangerous!”


           “Unhand our queen!” The largest insecticon trembled as he stood, raising his pinchers. He was clearly unfit to fight, but more than willing. Heatwave sneered, daring the thing to come closer.

           Frankie wriggled out of his grip. “Stop it, both of you!” she snapped. She knelt and smoothed her hand over the insecticon’s helm. He leaned into her touch; Heatwave shuddered.

           “Heatwave, it’s okay. This is Katydid. He’s my new friend.”

           “Friend?” said Heatwave. “Frankie- those are insecticons! They’re dangerous. Now come with me before you get hurt.”

           With a low growl, Katydid moved to shield Frankie. She patted him and said, “I won’t get hurt, they like me. And they aren’t dangerous, either- they’re just scared… and hungry.” With that she gazed up at Heatwave, eyes wide and shiny, bottom lip poking out. The dreaded puppy dog pout.

           No. No way. They were already low on energon as it was. Now way in the pit were they going to waste any on vicious, savage-

           Frankie’s lip started to quiver.

           “Fine,” he grouched. “I’ll get them some energon. But they aren’t staying here!”

           The insecticons didn’t seem to hear that last part, cheering “energon!” and “all hail the queen!” as they buzzed and nuzzled Frankie happily.

Your Ultimate Camp Counselor Guide

Having worked as a camp counselor for 2 going on 3 years now, i figured id make a guide to not only what you need as a counselor, but the types of counselors and campers. Here u go, nerds,

First off, what you NEED.

-sunscreen (spf 30 or above)
-tampons and/or pads (even if ur a boy)
-hair ties (again, even the guys)
-bug spray
-a hat with a brim (baseball cap, snapback, or bucket hat)
-ziplock baggies (useful for keeping your phone dry and keeping wet clothes in)
-water bottle
-a backpack (drawstrings are my personal fav) to keep this shit in
-a snack (beef jerky, nuts, dried fruit, or trail mix are best to keep ya energy up)
-hand sanitizer (bc kids are disgusting, germy little creatures)
-extra shorts/shirt/socks (in case someone pukes on u)

Things that you dont NEED but can come in handy:

-a deck of cards
-friendship bracelet string
-rubber bands
-coloring book/crayons
-safety pins
-bobby pins
-a sharpie
-wet napkins

Okay kids now the fun part:
Types of Counselors-

-the Boss: the one person who acts like they control everyone, kids and staff alike. Usually a junior counselor or CIT.

-the Stoner: literally how are they functioning?? How does their boss not notice?? Whatever, the kids love them and theyre really good at braiding hair.

-the Becky: super peppy, always smiling born-to-work-at-camp counselor, always making friendship bracelets and eats a salad every day for lunch. Can be male or female but usually a chick.

-the Dead Inside: took this job thinking it was easy, the children have stepped all over their soul. You could kill a man in front of them and theyd just sigh and fill out an accident report.

-the Gossip: talks shit, never wants to help clean up.

-the Un Athletic One: they can never seem to keep up with the kids, cant play kickball for shit, doesnt know how to keep the kids under control.

-the Lifer: theyre nearly 30, but theyve worked here every summer since they were 15, so its sort of their home.

-the Slacker: literally the worst. Doesnt do shit, lets the kids run wild, hates to clean, hates to move around.

-the Vet: different than the Lifer. Theyve been here a few years and They. Have. Seen. Some. Shit. Been puked on? Sure. Bled on? Yup. At this point, nothing will shock this counselor, and honestly dont piss them off, they could kill a man with their eyes.

-the Git ‘er Done: smokes half a pack, downs two red bulls, and pulls through the day like a well oiled machine. Doesnt take shit from anyone.

-the Joe: basic. Newbie, or hasnt been there too long. Knows the drill but isnt anything special. Pretty good at cleaning tables.

-the Germaphobe: literally why are you working with small children. Hates dirt. Bathes in hand sanitizer.

-the Jock: kids and counselors love em. Super athletic, hot, and nice. Usually a little older.

Types of Campers:

-the Cling: wont leave you alone, never does anything without asking their fav counselor for help.

-the Mudpie: why, child, must you bathe in dirt?

-the Magpie: steals anything they can get their grubby little paws on.

-the Diva: too good for summer camp, “my old camp was better.”

-the Blabber Mouth: you cuss ONE time when you cut your finger and the little bitch tattles.

-the Reader: doesnt play sports. Doesnt make friends. Reads all day. Weird. wears sweats year round.

-the Pube: any boy between age 10-12. Likes worms. Hits people. Ugh.

-the Gossip: same as their counselor counterpart, talks shit and never participates in group activities.

-the Tom Boy: we get it. You like sports. Hush child.


-the Albino: we lathered you in 20 layers of sunscreen how are you still burnt??

-the Shark: beats all the counselors at cards.

Feel free to add anything i missed fam and enjoy the summer!


I awoke at 4 AM to a rather unsettling nightmare and found myself drenched in sweat, even though I had kicked the blankets off of my bed, and my ceiling fan was twirling on its highest setting. I was so shaken by the dream that the adrenaline pulsing through my body had me on high alert, unable to fall back asleep, at least for a little while.

   I turned the bedside table lamp on and looked at the clock to confirm the time before surveying my room to make sure nothing was out of place, and that no boogeymen were hiding away. Everything seemed just as I remembered when falling asleep. Nothing that I could notice, at least.

   I recounted what had happened in my nightmare, hoping that it would relieve my mind knowing that it was only a dream, and allow me to fall back asleep without any trouble.

   I was in a cornfield, which wasn’t unusual considering that where I live there were hundreds of those fields all across the town. It was nighttime, and unusually dark compared to the actual nights out in the country where the light from the stars themselves provided enough to see where one was going. I had a flashlight on me, but I never saw it in my hand; just a beam of light everywhere I looked, like something out of a video game.

   As I pushed through the thick, tall stalks of corn that were a chore to maneuver through, even in a dream, I came upon an old farmhouse. I had recognized it immediately, because as a kid the school bus would always drive past it to and from school. The place had always been poorly maintained by some old geezer who all of the kids told urban legends about. The man was a murderer, demonic cults were performed there, some creature roamed the cornfield, the scarecrows walked at midnight; if you could think of a story about the place, it had already been concocted by the young kids who were bored, as living in the middle of nowhere would do that to someone.

   The house was a block of nighttime shadow. I shined my flashlight along the rotting front porch, the dusty, old windows, and even the familiar blue pickup truck I’d seen parked at the side, its paint faded by countless sunny afternoons.

   The front door was open. My dream voice in my head prompted me to enter the house, like it was some invitation. As any nightmare goes, my gut told me otherwise and continuously attempted to force me to leave, but instead I walked up the squeaky, wooden steps and across the porch floorboards that sagged beneath my weight.

   I walked inside of the dark, empty farmhouse. I looked to my left. The furniture was askew. An old television, still adorned with the wiry antlers of cable antennae, had laid lopsided along the living room floor. A blizzard of static fizzed from its screen.

   In front of me down a short hallway, I was only able to have a glimpse of the kitchen through the open doorway. I saw a freshly made meal for two, barely even touched, and glistening in the beam of my flashlight were shards of broken glass from cups of water carelessly knocked off the edge of the table. Or, swiped? Thrown? The house was obviously in disarray, as if a fit of rage was unleashed upon the home.

   The wooden stairs that lead to the second floor were smeared with blood, along the steps and descending the wall. Something injured had been dragged mercilessly down the staircase, and a handprint on the wall, starting at the top, became a streak of red paint the further down it went.

   At this point, I had started to realize that I was in a nightmare. I think. It all had seemed so real, but everything felt…off. Different. As if it almost wanted to be real, but it couldn’t quite get it right.

   My subconscious managed to tell me that the upstairs was not worthy of investigating. I instead directed my attention to the basement entrance in the hallway ahead of me, just before the kitchen and beneath the staircase. Something was in there, I just knew it.

   I had found myself opening the basement door. My flashlight beam slowly directed itself down the basement steps and into the pitch black, empty, dirty basement. I could feel another presence down there, but I remained planted at the top of the staircase.

   It was a wet sound, like water dripping but with more of a defined impact with the basement floor. Thicker than water. Sticky. Something grumbled within the dark depths, in another language that I had never heard before, but even if I had, the way that it groggily mumbled the words in a deep, beastly voice was incoherent within itself.

   “Hello?” I stupidly called out, my dream-self forgetting every horror movie that I’d ever seen.

   Whatever was in the basement ceased its mumbling, and I heard a hiss of sudden alertness, presumably the being redirecting its attention to my intrusion. Hello? it mimicked back, over and over again in a different inflection and pitch with each repetition of the word. It sounded like multiple people were down in the basement, each responding back with ‘hello?’ of varying sexes and ages. A middle-aged man with a gruff voice; an old woman with a soft, welcoming voice; a little boy who sounded scared; a young woman whose voice seemed a few pitches too deep, as if it were coming through a voice-altering program. The creature continued to find the right voice, repeating the same word, and it paused before finally returning with a flawless, “Hello?” in my voice.

Read the rest of the story here!

Stay spooked!

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I’m not an animator by any means, but I wanted to pose out how my dragon character breathes fire in this test animatic.