Trek Crack

Good evening/afternoon/morning, cracklings. Is there anybody alive out there?

It certainly has been a long time since last I put finger to keyboard in the spirit of correspondence, hasn't it. Almost three months, in fact. And this missal, the first for a third of a year, will probably be the last for many years.
You see, cracklings, the General and I have discovered the delights of Russell Group universities. What with the bi-weekly essays and eight-hour workdays and thirty-book reading lists, we've found ourselves with little enough time for drinking steins of whiskey and dressing up as Victorians, let alone routinely drawing, scanning and uploading anything coherent and entertaining.
Well, when I say 'we' have had no time for this, I mean 'me'. The General has been preoccupied by, and I quote, "READING EPIC POETRY AND SHOOTING SHIT WITH ARROWS". Certainly, we could have slung you a note regarding our absence, but we're severely deficient in several key areas of human function, one being organisation, and my college has an internet useage policy that would make George Orwell clutch his notepad and weep bitter tears.

Anyway, this being my last charge, so to speak, I thought I'd parcel out all the sketches and animations I hadn't gotten round to uploading before the Great Absence - by way of an apology and to act as the flaming arrow that will light the Viking funeral barge that his this post. The internet being the sea upon which it floats, of course.

( Collapse )( Collapse )

With the final days of September tumbling into the past like lemmings herded over a cliff by Disney employees, and the winter time fast approaching, it seems only right that we offer up a small post to make the coming months of darkness, arctic temperatures and soup just a little more bearable.
Because no matter how cold the Terran winter is, it's always colder in spa(aaaaa)ce.

Preview:


( Collapse )

TINAFL part two!

Tinafl is a funny word. Ideally it'd be spelled tinaffle, and would be vaguely related to trifle. Tinned trifle. Tinaffle. Tinned trifle with apples. There we go.

ANYWAY.

Part two, which has a fair few more words than part one, and one more illustration. Because you've been good this week.

Preview!



( Collapse )

Today is a day I, personally, have been looking forward to with steepled fingers and manical grin; the day that we get to unleash the full force of Hybrid Chekov on your eyeballs.

Preview:



( Collapse )

What is this? Is this fic? What is fic?

Fully illustromated by the ever-illustrious Captain, I bring you part one of a crack-addled saga, which began life in an a7 notebook under the influence of deadlines and caffeine.

With no further ado, fic, for you!

Warning: This is apparently what the insides of our minds look like. We apologise.

Preview:



( Collapse )
Part two is on its way as soon as I find vast enough quantities of tea to fuel me.

This should not be difficult.

On a second viewing, Wolf In The Fold (the silver- or perhaps bronze-ranking episode in the Semi-Annual Crack Awards, behind the one where everyone's old except for Chekov because he has The Fear) offers up a more moist and savoury haunch of crack than I first realised. The slices of thick marbled insanity carved from its mass including but not limited to the liberal application of jam masquerading as blood, and interpetive dance. But this is not about that. This is about Kirk, and his ways.

Preview:



( Collapse )

We all know it can get lonely in space for Scotty, but have we considered the many other emotions and actions he might go through during the course of a day? I think not.

Preview:



( Collapse )

For a given value of 'touching'. This post does exactly what it says on the header, which is to exploit the bizarrely elastic faces of the TOS crew for a cheap screencaptured laugh.

Preview:


Captain Kirk says Moisturise.

P.S. Monday's post was delayed due to reasons you can read for yourself in the post below, but which can be summarised in the words of Dylan Moran; "technology, it's supposed to free you, but it's a terrible terrible trap." In any case, the General's giga-epic comicery is now available on a screen near you.

EDIT:

The comic is up! The comic is up! Finally.

This is based off the entirely true and factual thesis that Uhura and classic!Chekov are gal pals. If you want confirmation of this, watch 'the trouble with tribbles", where they grin and squee and coo over tribbles together in a schoolgirlish fashion.

Preview:

( Collapse )

 

Placeholder: Yesterday's update is trying its hardest not to work its way onto the interwebs.

Yesterday, I sketched and inked the thing with a long-lost pen of exquisite loveliness.

I did not realise that this pen would bleed quite so massively on contact with water.

Today I redrew the entire thing, coloured it, scanned it - whereupon photoshop has decided to freeze. THANK YOU PHOTOSHOP NO REALLY.

Once my computer/pens/life decide not to hate me quite as much, I will get the damnable thing online. And it will replace this message of rage and woe and it is FAR too late to be ranting like this, so goodnight, and check back here in about ten hours.

It's that time again - time to squint at your monitor as if the image before your eyes was a stereoscopic double-frame.

Preview:



( Collapse )
P.S. hands_remembermade some fine genderbending slash art. It has Kirkette, and accurate hairstyles, and gropings of the highest order, which is always fun.