Okay

I'm being forced into a break again as the ol' arm is doing that thing again. So here's a mish-mosh.

DEAR BLOG:

CAPS. CAPS IS THE WAY TO GO AT THE MOMENT.
Not anymore. I have sketches, they're just my regular old boring sketches, I wish I could get rid of Mishenka but he's the only one sending things out to me (hint hint, little buddies).

But I can't post them now because they're not done.

Words

I'm having a hard time reading words, my focus is leaving.

This is an explanation of what happens from the Gate Maitofif.

Before something is released from the Gate, it sends out A. Bugs. These bugs crawls, they tickle and sometimes they hurt, and they fill my head and it swells. I get very irritable, very swollen and frustrated.

The bugs then calm, and form the B. Phantasm. The phantasm is whatever information the Fallen People have chosen to send out to me at that time. It is a mix of black and white, because I'm not sure what it's going to turn into. It swirls around a bit and leaves me guessing.

The Phantasm splits and the first half becomes either a:
c.1 - Pearl - A lighter visual. This leaves me feeling pleasant and light.
c.2 - Rook - A darker visual. This leaves me dark and wanting death.

The second half becomes D. The Lore. This is the auditory sent.

It all combines to make E. The Entity.

After the Entity has been complete, I'm left empty for awhile.

Do you see now?

Hello

This is the Tryptich.

Listen.

I'm going to explain something here, because my friend told me to write these things out, so I don't have to keep repeating it.

These people and their story are real. They are, and I don't know any other way to prove it to people without them thinking I have a problem. The way I can prove it is by showing the audience what the 'fallen people' have shown to me. This is via my drawings and writing. The fallen people are reaching out to prove to our people on this planet, that they do exist. Because humans are so disinclined to think that another life form has made contact. Well, guess what, they're doing it right now. This is how:

I don't get to go into their world, but they let little phantasms and such out to me via the Maitofif Gate. The reason I don't get everything at once is because they're still living out their story, so I can only get what they've accomplished in their lives so far. They want this shown so we all know that they are real. Don't you want to be heard? Don't we all? So do they.

How does it happen? How do you become a vessel to them? It's nothing you chose. It's in your stars. If everything lined up properly and polar when you were born, they choose you. Because you understand how to get to their world, for it is parallel to your own. I did not know this until recently when my star chart was shown to the astrologists and they told me this chart is unusual and rare, the polarities are so uncommon. They say it's often associated with people who have two sides to them, and cannot choose which one to be. Polarity. That is my chart to the side.

When you are born to the correct star placement, you are tuned into the fallen people's wavelength. It's like radio, almost, but it's transferred mentally. I didn't know any of this, but over the past 2 years it's slowly made itself evident.. and recently it's sped up more. I know why I'm here now.

Medication - oh medications. If I were to tell my psych about this, she'd thrown more meds at me. Do you know what those do? Block the wiring signals from their world to mine. Everything will have been wasted and lost. Everything I've worked hard on will become moot. And the fallen people will not be able to prove themselves real, and they'll be lost. And mad at me. They depend on me.

Praise It

I learned a lesson today - I'm being watched for one, for two - shut off the IM clients and SMS messages. Being watched okay, it leaves room for input and such, but then there is voyeurism. You.

Comics.

Greetings, 11 followers! (see that, 11)
Due to immense overload of commissions, I must halt drawing my own work. I've been itching to do more comic panels, but I think surprises await as the second story is going along much faster than the first. It is shorter, I'm trying to extend it out a bit.

Our planet shall have peace when we believe in ourselves and stop believing there is a god who has set out rules for us. There is no aim to life, there are no missions that the gods give you. If you believe otherwise, you are not free, you are enslaved by your beliefs, not a god. Freedom is knowing boundaries, but you must set your own, they are not universal. When we start to believe in ourselves, our abilities and realizations of what we can achieve grow, surpassing what we were 'allowed' by our gods. We will forever progress forward with betterment, respect and understand the harmony that plays a key in our survival.

Burning!

Greetings, 10 Blog Followers!
I am teaching Furry Art Classes now. Tuesdays, 9pm Eastern time.
So I have nothing new to post here unless it's like paws or something like that.
Apologies,

Me.

Wrong

Hello 10 blog readers! I have nothing new! I haven't really felt like drawing! I was marching to the wrong drum with the wrong scum. Indeed. But fear not, my 10 blog readers. For now is the time that everything emerges - from great sadness erupts a ... thing. Sorry, lost train of thought. Anyways, here's the WIP of the Ianitor. I added a whole three new things, I think. I also found the suiting song which will help it along, and will bear the name. Dark Father. The end! That's all.

Waiting for Snow

Dear Blogthing; I am waiting for the snow. Right now I feel that is the only thing that will bring me out of this funk. And it is inspiring. Speaking of inspiring - it's all done, I think. Our chapter closes, so does theirs. I think that the reason he was put here was to help this out, as was the one before him. Same lessons, two different outcomes. I've been doing commissions most of today, while I am awake, as the new medication is knocking me out cold. So I haven't worked much on my own work. But this is what I have.

Rooks

They're being solved. This is taking forever.

You Know Nothing.

Dear Little Birds:
I hope you don't mind, but the death of livejournal is inevitable. I don't want to share my trainwreck life online anymore. This blog, this fake paper and pen, all of the art I post will keep up here.

So I have this image that I'm working on. It won't be done for a million years. I've been watching Bob Ross videos for the trees, and I ripped the sunset out of another WIP I was doing mid-year. Documenting my works-in-progress is recording keeping, and they look amusing at each stage. I don't work in any specific order, only what calls to me. So, there.

AH HA! It clicks.

I spent most of today researching and drawing BOXES and sitting outside in 500 blankets (I have the flu) half asleep figuring out How it Works and what makes it work - and I've drawn a church.
Leave me to my rejoicing unto the lord as I go sleep now - this is my happy day. The diagonal line trick on Photoshop helped immensely but I need to make that more organic. It looks technical.

My Paper

Ghosts

Greetings 9 followers, the 9 ghosts.
I'll try buildings and such later.

This is my spot, this is like the spot I don't get at home, no privacy here in my small place. Whoever stumbles upon this probably wonders who I am and what this is that I write. A hidden grove in the jungle of the internet.

Missing

There should have been a note in the previous entry, during the description of Mr Sedov, that he has arched brows and a goatee. My apologies.

Trains.

I don't have much time to post, but what I do post is long and probably not going to be read by a few, but who cares! It's a cut and paste, it takes 2 seconds. I have one art, it is 1/7th the way finished. And I have a story, well a rough draft of the beginning of the second story. Which needs a name.

Words:
The passenger train Vlvata 4 always chugged down it's normal route, on the same iron tracks through the same forest it had followed for decades. The tracks took one from the outskirt village of Little Hedeon (also known as North Hedeon) to the metropolis of Hedeon itself, a journey of exactly 47 minutes through forest, plains and a brief view of the mountains, on a fair weather day.

On that day, a Tuesday morning, Vlvata was late, even for a fair weather day. 47 minutes passed at the North Hedeon Depot Station 03, leaving its passengers trainless. It was for the best, as it made time for the riders to converse with each other. Small things, such as the unusually cold spring weather, the arrival of the new Aionic priests to Hedeon, the coffeeshop that was doomed to close, and for two individuals: a book author.

She saw him first, reading to himself from a red covered book, his lips moving silently with each word he read. A habit that many find absolutely irritating but she found intriguing. Watching him out of the corner of her left eye, she took in his tall stature and lean body. He stuck out from the crowd of nearly a dozen with his priest robes and his black hair cut at a peculiar slant, two pieces in the front longer than the rest. He must have been new to town for he wore no coat in the nearly freezing dawn. An awkward yet handsome looking thing he was.

If she saw him first, there was a second sight to follow, as he had caught her eyes moving over him. The woman was nearly opposite himself - a tiny height, brushing perhaps 5 feet tall, a pear shape to her body. She was dressed from what he could tell elegantly, in a very monotone grey and black scheme. Pale blue eyes peeked out at him from behind a pair of thick black lashes, a devious look to her. Below the left eye, a small black marking. Her hair a waving black waterfall that never fell. She was lovely.

The two shared a common ancestry, that of the Dierkan race. Larger ears than the other two races, their fur as short as a horse's coat and ranging from pale grey to a charcoal black. Most Dierkans had dark brown to medium brown eyes, any variances were uncommon among them and often tipped that there may have been another race involved in the family tree. Under their fur was a black skin, which was prominant only in the lips, nose and a ring around the eyes resembling black eyeliner.

Peering over at the book the man was absorbed into, she caught the name of the author. "Luka Garbon," she noted outloud. This caught the attention of the man, who now turned his head towards her.

"Yes," he replied slowly, checking the cover himself. He returned to his page.

"He's written quite a few books since I last read him, his subjects have turned more religious than I care for," she told him.

"I study under him down in Moriz, it is required reading," was the dry reply. She noticed his interest in the book became more pronounced. Being one to demand attention to herself, she pushed further.

"Why are you up here then?"

He sighed, closing the book. Social behavior was not his forte and her interupting his reading was starting to try his patience. "I have been assigned to the chapel on the hill, to take Father Rubin's place while he returns to the school. I'll assume you don't visit it, from your prior comment."

"Do you not know who I am?" she craned her neck at him. He took a step away from her.

"Beyond a heathen? No."

She fumbled into her purse, pulling out several crumpled papers and wrappers, a pencil, pen and several lipsticks. Finally she found what she had been looking for and pulled out a package of cigarettes, bearing the name Sharp Tobacco. She slapped it against her wrist to pack them tighter and to gain his attention towards it. The faint aroma of tobacco leaked as she opened them. "My name is Zoyechka Sharp, or, as I'm called by most of my kingdom, Zoe," she gave him a sidewards glance and returned to her cigarette, lighting it with a silver lighter that had 'Sharp' engraved on it.

"Oh. The Queen takes the commoner's transportation without guards, how noble." Sarcasm. She choked on the first inhale.

Nearby, a short stout man with large glasses, greying short hair with a white streak in the front, and very conservatively dressed, checked his watch and sighed. Putting down his suitcase, he made it apparent that he was listening in on the conversation.

"What's your name?" she said, ignoring his previous comment.

"Mishenka Sedov, or, as I'm called by most of my parish, Father Sedov," he replied before cracking open the book once again. He had astutely noted the man's attention and felt the urge to end conversation with her, as he could very well be an under cover guard of Zoe's. Not to Mishenka's surprise, the man wandered over to Zoe and poked her shoulder.

"Train's coming."

Cough.

Dear Blog Readers:
I lack fundamentals of art.

I am outside in 45degree weather, wishing it was snowing. Snow brings me time to think. It's so quiet. I feel myself entering physical hermitmode already. I want the bugs to come back into my brain again so the thinking is better. I want to switch back to Max for awhile. Mishenka and Zoe, they're leaving for the time being, for their story is sealed and done. It was quick, very quick, and I think it is good. Sometimes it's better that way.

Now if I could only settle on an ending for Fallen.

You're Fucked Now!

This image is made of threes. Not only compositionally. Originally, the background was suited for a scene of young Eve and Finn, running away through a field of snow while their old village burned in the background. Finn was helping Eve through the fence. The second image is the foreground - Fresh faced Max, Doozer (Boris) and Tyler being given some bad news. The third? That's the new one, of an approaching 50 year old Mishenka delivering said bad news. Your past can come and haunt you, so beware. Burning a church during wartime is an unforgivable thing to him, and he may find a legal way to remove you from the military. But as I said, pasts can often haunt us, so beware Mishenka Sedov, for your own deeds may come back to bite you.

The Rat King.

I'll do it myself.. Concept for my own Rat King.

Nothing.

Hello blog, there's not much to write because I'm sick and doing commissions tends to drain me of all creativity. The only thing I've thought of doing is the story outline and I'm not looking forward to that.

Night Comes

I wrote this bit Sunday. There is no art to post with this, I am not flowing freely.

"I have come to face the facts that I am taking Lunesta so I can sleep, not just to sleep but to put a quick end to my day because I am starting to hate my life."

Last night was a first night in a long time that I went without the Lunesta. I still had an 'aide', I had for the first time in years had weed, which went over well with me. Until bedtime. Prior to that, I had watched House of 1000 Corpses, and whenever I closed my eyes there were images I wasn't actively imagining. Some were gruesome, and made me throw my legs over Jim because I believed Dr Satan was coming for me... but I had one sight that I stopped and lingered on for a bit. Maybe a minute or so.

It was..

the Gateway Maitofif. Now, that gateway is one that I've decided, is the portal to the other world, the Fallen place, where all my critters reside. I don't need to see it to know it's there, it just is. All of the Phantasms and Lore seep out from there, I can't go in because I'm needed here. But the stories of the Fallen, they come out to me to be written. And now I saw this gate, it was actually a mirror. A full body one, very wide too, against a fuschia wall. It was dark in there though, the room was horizontally long and thin and the mirror tucked towards the back right. Over it was the head of the Bird Moor, who is like a guardian. It was a statue, glowing a neon blue. The mirror's edge, wrapping around it, was the Snake Moor. It was green. Very bright colors in this vision, when it was seen. Which is sort of parallel to what the Fallen world is like.

The Bad Way

There are door moors first, if your ticket is faulty they'll take it away. So far, only I am allowed passed Myself because it was granted to me, because I understand what they mean and why the phantasms want out.

The Bird Moor's feathers all feel like a pinecone. The Snake Moor's scales feel like a blacktop pavement.

The Nature of the Pariah

As autumn leads to winter, I seek my solitude away from the sots and bloodsuckers that tend to stick themselves to me during the middle of the year. It is my fault for letting them ride this far, but, there is always a reason and purpose for someone being in my life. This solitude leads to an increase in both activities: the Lore and the Entities. I feel that there is nothing more I can do with the Entities until more Lore reveals itself. I had wondered where it was, and now it is revealed belly up. Take it, and use it, it was meant for this reason and leave no one crying at your feet. They've made themselves useful, use them.

And I'll write about Zoe, because she was revealed.

Once a woman who'd been brought to destroy, she eventually learns to build and express compassion. Now as a builder, she comes across a skeletal structure with a very broken frame and weak base. It took time and coaxing, but the house grew and flourished and began to feel more like a home. It allowed her inside, where she nested happily. But although the outside was within perfection, the house proved that the skeletal frame was still broken, and perhaps even more than that, it was rotted. Rotted beyond any sort of repair. There was no longer any reason to stay there as the house creaked and sighed heavily, announcing that it was on the verge of collapse. Self destruction was always a pitiful thing to watch, but Zoe no longer stepped in to prevent it. She'd been burned too many times from the rotten house's warning flames. One night, she took a memory (one piece of wood) which the house greatly disapproved of because if discovered, it would reveal that the house was not as perfect as it had been displaying. With this taken wood, she removed one of her own foundational boards and created a new house. The older one fell soon after, investigators believed it may have been a self-inflicted arson.

For A Reason

Comfort, thy name is synastry. Left is a residue which stains another beautiful creation, thickening him, and someone will love him as I loved the painter. The backward trail that cycles through seven years, the fates that've allowed it until it's learned. It is learned now, go away.

Whew!

Elfwood's moderator test is a toughie! Now we wait on results..

Keeping Memories

This morning, I read my Choices and came across this: Victoria Bliss. If I had a daughter that would be the perfect stripper name. Anyways, the image struck me. What items would be important and special? Phantasms surround me now. Writhing and slipping around my grey matter begging to be formed.
~
Oddly, yesterday.. after the decision to leave the second launching pad and in the middle of explaining my dissatisfaction with the way some gallery directors were wishy-washy, I opened my email to find this:

3. More Moderators needed!

We are in need of more moderators, since Elfwood is in constant growth.

We're currently looking for moderators for all the areas.

Requirements:

- You must be at least 18 years old.
- You must have a published account, preferably been published for a
few months.
- You must have a good record, meaning no major rejections in the past
year, for example for copying or repeated rejections.
- You must be willing to give at least 1-2 hours a week to moderating.
- You must have a good understanding of the rules.

If you have the requirements, then please proceed in reading the rest
and volunteer.

You're welcome to volunteer for more than 1 area. We will put up a
note when we have enough volunteers, and all that have volunteered
will hear back from us, but it might take a little while, so please be
patient.

For FanQuarter: We prefer volunteers that are familiar with a number
of anime and/or American comics. We are currently looking for
volunteers who know their American comics like Marvel and others, but
we also need people who know their Dragon Ball, Inuyasha, Yu-Gi-Oh,
Fushigi Yuugi, Kenshin, Yu Yu Hakusho, Naruto, Gundam, Hellsing,
Sailor Moon and others.

To contact us please go to the Contact page and choose "Volunteering"
from the drop-down box and make sure you put which area or areas you
are volunteering for in the subject line, like "FanQuarter mod",
"Wyverns mod" or "SF&F mod". If you want to volunteer for more than 1
area, just list them both like "FanQuarter and SF&F mod".

Elfwood! The first launchpad! The site that encouraged me to keep going, who awarded me a Moderator's Choice on several images, mostly of Max because the moderators admitted they adored him. I kept going once I knew people liked him. I did. And then I became frustrated with the moderation system that didn't allow me to categorize him correctly. Images were rejected for not being fantasy enough. DeviantArt allowed me to upload with whatever I wanted. So I was there. And now I realize the importance of moderating what goes where, or else you wind up with a website full of garbage and cell-phone photos, cat macros and sprite comics. Double standards when it came to categories. Wade through that? No thank you.

I went to Elfwood and applied. 2 hours a week? I have more time than that to give. Granted the times of Elfwood being a largely preferred site to host your art and socialize on are long gone, but.. coincidence?

Mishenka Sedov

Mishenka Gavril Sedov. Depending on which story you read, you would most likely be taking in two different men. The younger Mishenka was timid, fresh looking, and humble. The elder one is manipulative, somewhat aged in appearance, and hermit-like. He is a man of little words, and only speaks when there is something worthy of saying. An injury during his early adult life gave him the slightest limp, but he insists on carrying around a walking cane, which never left his side.

Originally from southern Kasimir (which later becomes Olenka after the war tears the country apart), he travels northward to study as a priest. In the second story, his age is roughly 30, and in the third one he is 57. Over the span of those 27 years, he became hopelessly addicted to opium via the church and the inane need to fit in with the group. His growing involvement with the church forbid him from ever having a romance in his life, which conflicted him greatly. His personal fight in story two is coming to terms with the fact that he fell for his best friend, Zoyechka (Zoe), and lost her due to his own selfish decisions. The opium addiction also plays in, as it is a major contributing factor to the destruction of the friendship. It took over his life, his desires only focused on getting a chance to smoke. With this plant, he saw 'visions', which he wrote and projected upon his fellow clergymen who revered him as all holy.

When he was 18, he was given a second chance at life. He was offered power and fame in exchange for something seemingly small. As he was never one to actively pursue goals in life, he took the chance. He entered the church of Aionism and was accepted eagerly for his knowledge and extraordinary connection with the gods. Mishenka slowly climbed the ladder to success, and it was only in his 50's that he achieved the highest ranking.

His relationship with Max Sharp, Zoe's son, was distant. Max was the only heir and therefore the closest thing to Zoe that Mishenka would ever have again. Mishenka was asked by her to take care of Max in the event that something would happen to her, leaving Pyotr in the dust (which of course angered Pyotr). In the beginning of this role, he was reluctant, as he was a child-hater. The years went by and his removed himself from the child's life, but not before imprinting his own beliefs and traits upon him. After Max took over the seat of power, Mishenka appeared in his life again, most likely to keep an eye on the newly Aionism-hating ruler, as well as to get more money funneled into the church, which began to suffer under Max's rule.

Mishenka's astrological sign is a Scorpio, which carries traits of being possessive, jealous, manipulative, yet passionate and intense with emotions. Following that, colors associated with him are black and dark hues of colors, mostly purples and reds. His character was designed to represent the personification of Death, the final stage of existence. Mishenka was based on my grandfather, both physically and personality wise.

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.”

So as it happens, we decide to end things in our lives. It is better to fade than burn, but it is nice to let them know when you've disappeared. Atleast, it was a nice ride.

Practicing on those boobs.

Halloween

Something tad better body wise - No nipples showing! Major work in progress here. Inking phase two tomorrow. I've got sketches still to do, and to start the Snowflake ones, and a X-Mas one. I've suddenly become busy.

Today I had to make a new account on FA for mature work. I can't link it to coffinberry because of the bizarre circumstances surrounding this - but I'm sure you'll see the art floating around somewhere. So now I have an official 'adult' account, which I may dabble in newer stuff for (;

PS List

A list!

TBD:
khajja FA - couple/paid
cornelius - couple/paid
kace - single/unpaid

Done:

Bodies

I've been stuck lately on where I want to take Eve's body shape. I've been using one that's really not too realistic and would probably snap if she existed in our world. I won't deny that I've taken a lot of qualities from Hollywood Cartoon bimbos of the past and mashed them together to create Eve. Goldie Pheasant was probably one of the bigger influences, including the body type. Just look at that. It's a bitch to shade something that looks like that in a realistic way... so I've debated on a more realistic body instead. Eve of course would retain that ridiculous rack and butt, because that's what makes her, her.

Art is the New Romance

I've learned that nothing will be as faithful, attentive and trustworthy than my imagination, from where the entities spring forth. Ah the love life, never a dull moment.

This guy, this is Topper Fox. He's just a random sample fox. When I learn how to post more than one image here, I'll put the rest up.

Snowflakes Melt

I don't know if I want to do the snowflake thing anymore. The thought of drawing some things that don't make me happy is starting to make me recoil in horror. I'm already dragging ass on those sketch commissions. But then again this is for cancer stuff so maybe I should suck it up and deal with it.

Commission Terms of Service

Things I will draw:
I will draw G rating - PG-13 rating.

Things I will not draw.
This means I will not draw sex, sexual acts, anything that could be interpreted as a sexual act, bodies being shredded to a million pieces, scat, vore, cub art, watersports. Actually, ask me before hand if I will draw your idea. I do not draw male/female genitalia. Bare breasts are okay as long as it is tasteful. I also absolutely do not allow my own characters to be portrayed nude (females may be topless if tasteful) or in sexual situations (sex acts).

Commission quality: This is a big one. If you pay me $10, expect a sketch back. I cannot justify being paid $40 dollars for an image that takes me well over 10 hours to complete. Either you get a quick, less detailed and finished image for cheap, or you pay extra to get something better. I rarely have set prices for my work. These are usually advertised as $10 sketches or $XX badges/pin-ups. Anything else is generally worked out by hourly rates. The more complicated an image, the longer it will take.

Reference images: Due to site outages and general preference, I will no longer be working from images linked on furaffinity.net. Please either attach your reference images to the inquiry email, or upload to a photo hosting site.

Linework changes: No changes to line work will be accepted after the coloring stage has begun. If there are linework changes that are absolutely required to be made after this stage, you will be charged 50% of what you paid for the commission.

Who retains what rights to the image?
I do, and if you want the rights, you will have to discuss this privately with me. I do not mind it if you repost the image, my only wish is that you link back to me and let others know I am open for that type of commission. I also retain the right to post or not post any commission I complete to my own online galleries.

Process and payment: Email me at coffinberryart[@]gmail.com to start the commission process. In the email, please send your username, description of what you want. You will be asked to agree to my terms of service (which is this) so make sure you understand what is written here! I accept paypal. After you pay me, I will start the sketching phase and will send it to you. You have two free revisions, after which I will charge $5. So be thorough!

If you decide to cancel the commission after it has already been worked on, there will be a refund issued, but you will be charged a fee for my time. I also retain the rights to terminate any commission at any time for any reason.

I do work on commissions scatteredly. This means sometimes I am in the mood to work on one person or anothers - don't think I'm giving up on you!

Origins of Their Lives

Originally, there were three. Max, Eve, and Tyler. Normally three is a desirable number in many art forms, but for writing it's not quite enough when you want to carry out a long story. I had to think and imagine daily new story arcs to add to justify creations of new badly needed characters. Eventually Max's mother Zoe sprung into life, and following her was the miserly old priest, Mishenka. Soon after came Nana, and the Twins, Doozer, Tashi, Eve's twin brother Finn, and Zoe's courter Pyotr. More minor roles are that of Sofiya, Georgie, and his wife Olga.

I will be going more in depth on how these were created, what inspired them, their role and their lives.

"But this had been a sin of passion, not of principle, nor even purpose."

I changed up Olga's colors to make her resemble a corpse better. Stole the colors off of a corpse on GIS e_e. She reminds me of Miss Havisham. And him, Sir Sedov? Still can't figure out a decent priest thing for him to wear that doesn't favor one of our religions over another.

I'm still spending my days on the couch, so nothing is really being produced right now. I've got about seven sketch commissions left, and once those are done, The Secret Project will begin.