I'm dancing my way into the week. I'm such a sucker for sandbox style genres, so here are some of my current favorites! I slapped in a self-confidence Totodile meme for those positive affirmation vibes.
P.S. The top three images are a rebus hint for an ABBA song. (It’s not “Mamma Mia”)
"Jamaica, they're trapped down in... Jamaica, they can't even Ja-party! It's so unfair!"
What's also unfair is that Redakai never got a season 3!
Did you know that Dan Petronijevic was the voice actor for both Boomer and Geoff? He also voiced many other characters in Bey Blade, Bakugan, The Amazing Spiez!, and Magi-Nation. Talk about a voice from childhood!
Anyway, I'm pretty proud of how this copy cat style attempt came out. I kept a few elements of my own style of course.
I had a lot fun doing this piece but I ran into a few issues since I draw with my finger and phone. Boomer was tough. Lots of zooming made my lines shaky. Geoff’s simple lines and shapes were way more forgiving. Drawn on separate canvases, then combined and resized Boomer (which messed up some of Boomer’s lines). Still not thrilled with Geoff's left hand, but pretty happy with how it turned out overall!
"Jamaica, they're trapped down in... Jamaica, they can't even Ja-party! It's so unfair!"
What's also unfair is that Redakai never got a season 3!
Did you know that Dan Petronijevic was the voice actor for both Boomer and Geoff? He also voiced many other characters in Bey Blade, Bakugan, The Amazing Spiez!, and Magi-Nation. Talk about a voice from childhood!
Anyway, I'm pretty proud of how this copy cat style attempt came out. I kept a few elements of my own style of course.
I had a lot fun doing this piece but I ran into a few issues since I draw with my finger and phone. Boomer was tough. Lots of zooming made my lines shaky. Geoff’s simple lines and shapes were way more forgiving. Drawn on separate canvases, then combined and resized Boomer (which messed up some of Boomer’s lines). Still not thrilled with Geoff's left hand, but pretty happy with how it turned out overall!
He heard y'all were still losing Kairu challenges in 2025 and came back just to flex. Team Stax? Defeated. Hair? Unbeatable.
Saw blatant fandom slander on the timeline “nobody remembers Redakai” or "dead fandom" and, as someone still holding out for a season 3, I took that personally. Don't y'all know CPR and defibrillator exist?
I'm till working on the coloring, and I haven't even started thinking of a background yet. Since this is a revisit to an old piece from the Kairu Golden Age, I'll be redrawing this digitally and traditionally in the future... hit watch so you don't miss out!
Attention All Kairu Warriros:
You may be eligible for a very stupidly generous surprise discount via the:
✦ OG Redakai / old-account reunion ✦
✦ new fan's welcome party ✦
Rules:
If I know you from back in the day (2011–2015 era via Redakai RP circles/fanart/fanfic community/YouTube, whatever) OR I 've seen you make the occasional Redakai post recently, hit me with your username. No need to worry if the old account has been deactivated or if you just joined the fandom, I will know who you are. Discounts are decided on a vibe-check basis. Please do not spam generic Redakai content in an attempt to qualify.
Name of Landmark: Basilique du Sacre Coeur (Sacred Heart Basilica)
Year: 2016
Tools: iPhone 4s (2011), Adobe Photoshop Elements (2001)
Level of editing: Minor
I'd like to consider myself a pro-amateur in photography. A bit of an oxymoron, but that suits my vibes just fine.
My journey in photography began when I received my very first iPhone for Christmas, just like many others (R.I.P. flip phones with the built in keyboard). Since then, I've spent countless hours on personal photography projects. I've collected many tools over the years keeping affordability and accessibility at the forefront of my mind. Artistry does not require the most advanced, most expensive, most main stream products.
Fast forwarding from Paris 2016 back to present day 2025, my current materials have expanded beautifully. I was gifted a Canon PowerShot SX420 IS, Wi-Fi (2016). I still use Elements, but I also will use whatever top website Google provides when I search "free photo editing application." Aside from the iPhones, I have welcomed an Alienware 17 RS3 (2015) and an Alienware Aurora 16 (2025) into my inventory.
While some of these brands my seem contradictory to my affordability and accessibility, I'd like to mention that the more expensive items were: gifted, bought on sale, or refurbished (either by me or the seller).
I've had over 15 years to build this collection. Rome wasn't built in a day. Patience yields progress. Learning to maintain and fix my tools has allowed me to retain the majority, only retiring a few things here and there. Trust me on this, if you take good care of your art supplies, they'll take good care of you.
~Prices are subject to change based on level of difficulty and detail! For writing: Anything above 1K words is a commission. $2 per 1K words. (A 5K piece would be $20.) DM for details!~
I’m local to New England and my studio is based in New Haven, CT.
I’ve had many pets throughout my whole life. I’ve had cats, dogs, guinea pigs, gerbils, and fish. My future dream pets are axolotls, lizards, or rats.
My skillset includes: writing, traditional art, digital art, and mixed media. Future skills I plan to develop: music, painting, animation, and videos.
I'm available for commissions and requests.
Commissions: If I feel as though I can do a decent job, I will take the commission. My limit is 2-3 commissions a month, but this may vary on size and detail of each commissions. DM for details.
Requests: If I feel as though I can do a decent job, I will take the request. My limit is 3 requests a month. This is a fixed limit. Requests are NOT as detailed as commission. DM for details.
And, yes, it is true. I use my phone for digital art and my finger as a stylus. And, yes, it is true. I use Crayola colored pencils. For inking, I do use Micron and/or Staedtler pens. For markers, I use Copic, though I only have about 25 colors. I tend to do art on a budget, so I keep the majority of my materials accessible. For the more expensive stuff, my collection started small in 2012 as I would only buy if the item was on sale. I like to believe my work highlights the fact that anyone can create art with "cheap" tools.
Well, I guess that's about it for now! Thanks for stopping buy!
"In New Haven (ayy, aha) (uh, yeah)
Brick city vibes (yeah) where the dreamers stay tough
There’s nothin’ you can’t do (yeah) (let’s go)
Now you’re in New Haven (aha, aha, aha) (uh, yeah)
These streets will make you check your shoes (shoes)
Elm City lights will inspire you (come on) (okay)
Let’s hear it for New Haven (you welcome, fam) (uh)
New Haven (yeah), New Haven (uh) (we made it hot, fam)"
--WaywardSideQuester to the tune of "Empire State of Mind" by Alicia Keys
Check out the short story that inspired such tomfoolery.
Growing up in the suburbs There's nowhere for you to scream I am not afraid of hell I am from Connecticut --Cat Crash
Happy fiction Friday~
When I heard this song, I was reminded of an old story I wrote in my notes app back in 2015. Naturally, I dug up my old phone and started editing. If I recall correctly this was my first attempt at Southern Gothic and Eldritch Horror with a bit of New England flare (specifically Connecticut).
"Why would anyone move here?" you hear the kids at school say. They are not talking to you, but they are talking about you. Just as you were going to tell them that you had no control, that you never had any control, that it was not your choice, they are gone. It would not have mattered anyway. They would not have listened. No one ever does. You hear someone say "Welcome to Hell," but you are not sure who said it. The hallway is empty, and you are late for class.
School is over. Your car will not start. You cannot drive home. You try again one last time. As you turn the key, you hear the faint hacking of a five-pack-a-day smoker, and your exhaust pipe is spewing out light-brown powder. Further inspection reveals that the powder is ground-up nutmeg and that your engine has been replaced with nutmegs. You should probably start walking home now.
It is getting dark. You are almost home. As you hurry along the sidewalk, you keep hearing footsteps coming from behind you. It's just a deer, you tell yourself, nothing more than a deer. The footsteps are far too heavy to be a deer and far too hoof-like to be human. You feel hot breath on the back of your neck. It's just a deer, you tell yourself again. Your pace increases. Do not turn around. Just keep walking. Only look ahead, and you will get home safely.
Your mother is making dinner, as per usual. Your father has already prepared a plate of raw steak and chicken legs for you to take upstairs to your older sibling. He does not come out of his room much these days. In fact, you cannot recall seeing him leave once after he went up there. Cautiously, you inch toward the door at the end of the hallway. The light bulb above you flickers frantically as if it is startled by your presence. You leave the plate. As you turn to walk down the stairs, you see the door crack open and a dark, shadowy figure grab the plate.
"It's nothing to worry about," your parents tell you. You protest. They try to convince you that it was just your older brother. You shake your head. It was too large and had far too many limbs to be your older brother. "No," they tell you, "your older brother is just going through some 'changes'." You try to protest. Just then you hear a sloshing sound behind you. Your parents' eyes widen with horror. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of what seems to be a dark purple tentacle slinking up the stairs and out of sight. Your parents deny its existence and order you to go to your room. You do not protest.
The next morning you wake up, and there are six feet of snow on the ground. Where did all the snow come from? It's the middle of spring. The roads have not been plowed. You still have to go to school.
Through the thick curtain of white, you see shapes moving out in the distance. The girl sitting next to you says it's just some deer. Maybe turkeys, too. You tell her that deer do not have that many long, slender legs or grow to be over eight feet tall. The bus screeches to a halt, and the doors fling open. The girl takes off her backpack and winter jacket, then gets off. She stands rigidly with her back to the bus. The bus starts moving again. Out in the distance, you watch the girl's silhouette shrink until the shapes close in on her. There is a faint, high-pitched scream. You never see or hear from the girl ever again.
You walk into class to find a large basket of nutmegs at your desk. Where do all of these nutmegs keep coming from?
Your English teacher thinks he's Edgar Allan Poe. He's even wearing clothes like the old poet. He keeps reciting "The Raven" at random students in the hallway. Occasionally he will squawk at people. You assume he is saying "nevermore." But you are not sure. No one is. Either way, it's frightening to the freshmen. Though, this is not surprising to the upperclassmen. Everyone was expecting him to lose it sooner or later. Someone even started a betting pool. You hear that your creative writing teacher won the pool. Wait... isn't that the same teacher?
At the end of the day, you head out to the school parking lot. You get into your blue Subaru. On the passenger seat you find several nutmegs scattered about. You look at the back seat. More nutmegs. Who the hell keeps giving you nutmegs? What are they even for? Suddenly you realize that you do not own a car anymore. You look ahead to find a note hanging on the rearview mirror. It says: "We've been watching you. Enjoy the nutmegs."
The sun is bright. There is no more snow on the ground. It's summer now. You smile as you drive home in your blue Subaru. It's so nice out, you nearly forget about the nutmegs rolling about your car. It's not until you slam on the brakes, causing all the nutmegs to fly into the air, bounce off the windshield, and hit you in the face to avoid colliding with a deer, that you remember. The deer screeches at you, kicks your headlights, and then slithers away just like any other normal deer.
Shivers travel up and down your spine as you drive. You have been driving for so very long. Your mouth is so dry. You are surrounded by Dunkins. I do not want Dunkin', you say to yourself. Further up the road you travel. It is getting late. You are tired. So very tired. And so very thirsty. Finally you notice a familiar glowing green-and-white sign. A single tear rolls down your cheek. Starbucks. You desperately crave a Pumpkin Spice Latte. You join the others in the drive-thru. You wait. The line at Starbucks is too long. It is nearly out into the street. You wait. The line is still too long. You think there are more cars in front of you than before. This cannot be right. You grow tired of waiting and drive away. As you speed up the road, you notice a Dunkin' coming up on the right. You go in, order a Pumpkin Swirl Iced Coffee, and then return to your car. As you bring the cold, caffeinated pumpkin swill to your lips, it begins to snow. You blink, and the Dunkin' is gone. You are not entirely certain that there ever was a Dunkin' there. Then where did you get the drink? You do not even like pumpkin.
As you park your car in the driveway, you hear a rustling in the woods. This would not be unusual, except there are no woods near your house. Just an empty field and the sound of the snow murmuring as it falls. You cannot tell what the snow is saying, and you are not sure if you want to. You shiver, but not from the cold. You enter your home and lock the door. Perhaps it was just another deer.
There is no school tomorrow. It is not a weekend. There is just too much snow. They run out of salt rather quickly and, as a result, start using nutmeg. At least you have a use for the ever-growing pile of nutmegs in your room. Seriously, what's up with all the nutmeg?
The snow melts due to a burst of unexpected summer. You decide, after careful consideration, that it is safe to go outside. You take a baseball bat just in case you run into any deer.
At a duck pond, you see an old lady wearing extremely outdated clothing—bonnet and full-blown colonial attire—surrounded by ducks. She turns to you. Her wrinkled lips pull back to reveal that most of her teeth are missing. It looks like a snarl. Although you assume that it was a smile, you do not smile back. It is safer not to interact with the locals. She turns away. Her bonnet is gone, and she is wearing a simple white nightgown. You cannot recall seeing the old lady change. You have not taken your eyes off her the whole time. You watch her wrinkly hand reach into her bag and toss the contents to the ducks. Those don't look like breadcrumbs…, you think to yourself. They are too white, too big, too solid-looking to be breadcrumbs. She is wearing her colonial garb again. You look away for an instant. You look back to see that the old lady has disappeared. A single duck stands where the lady had once stood. You are quite certain that the duck's eyes are glowing a bright red. It quacks, and a piece of the old lady's bonnet comes out of its mouth. Ducks are evil. Ducks are cruel.
It is 12:00 in the afternoon. You stop at McDonald's. There are so many McDonald's. There is nowhere else to eat. The man's gaze is unfocused and his expression blank as he takes your order. You are tense as he utters something you cannot understand under his breath. You are not quite sure you want to understand. He hands you your order, and you sit down. The other customers do not interact with each other. They are looking down at their smartphones. You do not own a smartphone. Occasionally you catch a glimpse of one of them smiling or hear the faintest whisper of a laugh. It is now 1:30 p.m. You have not eaten your lunch. It is cold. You are late for work. As you throw out your uneaten lunch and leave, you do not say a word to them, and they do not say a word to you.
The day before school starts again, an apple orchard springs up overnight. You are not quite sure where it came from, or why it's in your front lawn, but the man at the stand smiles warmly as he offers you a basket. You refuse. Just then your younger sibling grabs the basket and charges off into the field. You call after your little sibling. The rustling of the trees is the only response. You hear a shrill scream as the birds fly away. The man smiles again, but this time he shows his teeth, and they seem just a little too sharp. You run inside and lock the door.
"You never had a younger sibling," your parents tell you. They do not acknowledge the apple orchard in the front lawn. You struggle to get out your younger sibling's name. You know it. You really do. It just will not come out. You rush to the living room and grab your family portrait. All you see is your parents, your older brother, and yourself. That cannot be right. Perhaps, you think to yourself, your younger sibling was sick that day. But deep down, you are not even sure you ever had a younger sibling.
You fall asleep with the window open one night. The next day you wake up to find a gigantic turkey hovering over you. You kindly ask it to leave, but it refuses. You throw your pillow at it, and it pecks at you. It takes up residence in your room. At night it whispers things, terrible things, into your ear as you sleep.
One day your teacher introduces you and your classmates to a new student. She does not speak much English, you are told. Her smile is so full of hope. You want to warn her to get out while she still can. Her smile fades as she takes her seat. The next day she isn't in class. You never see her again.
There are more standardized tests. What are they for? "It's for funding," the teachers say. Where does the funding go? "It's for funding," they repeat. That makes sense, you think. "It's for funding," you say with them.
You hear many people complain about the school systems. You are rather content, and your only complaint is that you are being pursued by a mysterious flying owl. You think its name is Clive. It follows you to every class. It has begun to disrupt your learning. It has already stolen your soul once, and you do not wish to have it stolen again. It was hard enough getting it back the first time. The principal says nothing can be done about the bird. Shit. Looks like you are stuck with it for yet another year. At least it has the decency to give you some privacy in the bathrooms and locker rooms.
When your client asks for “Toy Story baby shower vibes” but make it Christmas 🧸🎄
Baby portrait goes right in that giant empty space (don’t worry, he’s coming)! Aliens are in uniform, ready to serve our tiny overlord when he gets dropped from The Claw.
"Butter cat, the cat with the butter. Butter cat – cat with the butter on her. The cat with the butter (butter cat). The cat with the butter on her (butter on the cat). Butter cat."
POV: your feed just got BUTTERED UP🧈🥵💦
Searching for a unique, memorable, and affordable preset? Pet portraits make wonderful gifts!
DM for details | HEART and REBLOG for holiday aura | COMMENT🧈if you're obsessed
Merry Christmas from your favorite time-travelling hubby, Rory Pond! Who’s ready to unwrap some Doctor Who magic in 2025? Heart if Rory slayed, reblog for holiday aura, and comment which TARDIS companion you’d love to see next!
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