The Trash Prince

The art blog of Sinklair! (He/They) I mostly just draw my OCs and babble about the stories I write. FAQs ✧ Tag List ✧ Ko-Fi

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I thought I'd introduce my main OCs! I mean, I always draw them, but a refresher is nice, right? Especially because the lore has changed a bit since I last gave a proper introduction.

They are all from The Lost Ones, an original story of mine. It's about a prince named Equinox, who is the reincarnation of an ancient dead god (Zola). After being murdered and suddenly coming back to life with newfound magic, enemies from his past life begin to show up and cause trouble.

Cassandra is Equinox's half-sister. She is a half-demon raised by her other mother, Veronica, and was trained from a very young age to be an assassin. One day, she was told by her mother that she was to be adopted by the King and was even given a fake backstory to make her less suspicious. However, instead of killing anymore, she was ordered to just befriend the returning prince and keep tabs on him. And although she figured it would end in his death, she was unprepared for how readily her new family accepted her and found herself faltering.

Velox (Kat) is a cat-shifter amnesiac whom Cassandra found alongside a river when they were children. Of course, at the time he was in cat form and didn't remember he was originally human, so he lived as a pet for some time before realizing he could turn back. His second name "Kat" was given to him by Cass since he didn't remember his original name. He tried to convince Cassandra to run away with him many times throughout the years, but she's always feared what her mother would do to him when she found out. He stayed by her side regardless of her reluctance to leave and follows her on every mission.

Equinox is a prince of Gowoa. He ran away from home at the age of 11, a year after his mother's passing and the dissolution of his family dynamic. While in Spiivica, he met Mandy, and they began traveling together, doing small quests under the table for the Adventurers' Guild. Eventually, they found themselves back in his home country of Gowoa, and they tried to make a home for themselves in an abandoned house in the woods.

Minerva is a princess of Distrovia. She is Equinox's childhood friend. When she was 19, her parents discovered she was a lesbian and tried to force her into a marriage with a man. She ended up running away the morning of the ceremony and took refuge in Equinox's house. She was disowned not long after but now lives happily in Gowoa (and yes, eventually gets a girlfriend).

Solstice is a bounty hunter from Lumin. She's a bit of a party girl and a ditz, but make no mistake, she is renowned within the guild for her skill and is known for her cutthroat attitude. As a result, she doesn't have many friends and prefers the company of money instead. At some point, she is offered a job by a very shady individual to kidnap a prince, and... it doesn't quite go her way.

Mandy is from a small village in rural Fulica. When she was 11, her village was attacked by bandits. She inherited her father's enchanted sword (contained in her necklace), swore revenge, and tried to go after them. But she found little success and quickly lost the trail. She was in Spivica across the sea when she saw a young Equinox being mugged. She saved him, and she's stuck by his side ever since.

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I regret having zero footage of me creating this. I would have liked to make a video about it. I'm fairly satisfied with this piece.

I was very much inspired by my trip to the UC Davis Gorman Museum. A lot of my art has always featured random doodles in the background, and I wanted to explore that further by putting it into a painting. Seeing Native artists have a similar tendency really had me thinking about the cultural reason for this habit.

This is the original sketch!

[princeoftrashy]

This is an acrylic painting of Creamy Mami! 🎤🎶

I wanted to brush up on my skills with the 80s-90s era anime style before I attempted my final paintings. (Similar reason for the Sailor Moon piece.)

I sort of ruined the real-life version of this with my oil paint experiment, but here's a photo of the acrylic base I snapped beforehand!

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Here are a few paintings I made this semester.

Starting off strong! This is the poor little canvas I abused all semester. Every time I got frustrated with a piece, I'd throw on my leftover paint, rip into the canvas, knead Play-Doh over the surface, etc.

A small portrait I made while experimenting with oil paint. It's not my favorite, but there is something interesting about the skin around the eyes.

This is an acrylic painting! It was painted over the top of another painting. The original piece was a doodle to see how the wooden board would take the paint. It was particularly ugly, so I slathered on red and black paint to cover it. Somehow it turned into a reference to "The Scream" by Edvard Munch.

Some progress pictures as a bonus:

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This was my second attempt with oil paint. I went for a stylized look because I had an idea of what I wanted to do for my final, and I wanted to ensure I could accomplish it with paint. There’s a lot I would do differently now, but it didn’t turn out too bad.

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This is another painting I did for school. This was a test piece to see how the acrylic pen would look under the oil paint. I was really happy with how subtly it shows through.

The writing underneath is actually the Sailor Moon End theme. I used Caroline Makes Music's English lyrics.

I figured out my process with this piece, and it served me well when I went on to do my final.

[YouTube]

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The art process of my last post! ☀️

[Art]

[YouTube]

[princeoftrashy]

This was made for my advanced painting class last semester. I decided to use Solstice as my subject. Rather than babble (like usual), here's my artist statement instead!🌻🌻🌻

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

My work intertwines the human figure with flower imagery, creating a flat space full of clutter that disorients the eye. I use an acrylic base overlaid with oil paint to enrich the colors further, creating a song of light and shadow. I keep to a philosophy of failure precedes growth, working intermittently on other pieces that dance between practice and destruction. This push and pull between the act of creation and the chaos that follows is integral to my process, showcasing the dichotomy between control and spontaneity, which come together in the final piece.

Presented in a disarming and girlish art style, my work reveals a superficiality in how survivors of assault are perceived and treated, challenging the narrative of the perfect victim. My paintings typically begin as poems and short stories, which I develop further through the medium, weaving together a narrative through symbolic imagery. The text, which serves as the foundation of the work, is interwoven into the piece, scrawled onto the surface and later obscured by layers and layers of paint. The opacity of the oil allows for the words to be glimpsed by the viewer while remaining unreadable and hidden, representative of the unspoken and taboo that resides just under the surface of societal expectations and social interactions. In a culture that prioritizes comfort over justice, I question who is really being protected.

Poem below ⬇️

Malformed

The unclean child began to lose its shape Not like a child, but not quite an adult A malformed creature, strange and wrong With limbs too long And a face too gaunt With eyes round and big Empty and hollow The lingering memory of innocence Buried deep in the place it had happened The unclean adult had no shape Something like a child, not really an adult Stitched together from ideas and thoughts They walked with an unsteady gait And lived with no face Sometimes they’d curl up like a rat In a space now much too small Familiar but only in a way that hurt Honest but not in the way that was right Like acid burning through the throat A truth too painful to say Words that never came out right Lies that never came out wrong An endless search of something lost Unclean hands holding tight Distorted fragments in the wind Cutting deeper and deeper into the skin IT’S YOUR FAULT.

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I was trying to put something together, and I needed a specific size. So I edited a few of my pieces to accommodate. Some have been substantially altered, while others have only been changed very slightly.

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I have a lot of unfinished paintings I've been working on, but I haven't done much digital art in a while. I decided to draw Buggy as a way of getting back into the swing of things.

(As a reminder, Buggy is Equinox's and Solstice's future descendant. She doesn't have a real story; I just enjoy playing around with her.)

[princeoftrashy]

The Roadside Shrine, A Short Story (TLO)

If you want to read the story first before my musings, feel free to scroll down and come back after!

I wrote a little short story about a young girl living on her family's farm in the outskirts of Talon, the small town Equinox lives near. It started off as a worldbuilding exercise. I wanted to expand the relationship people in the area have with the land and the land's God.

Because Zola has been dead for so long, I've always imagined that their shrines and temples have long since fallen into disrepair, forgotten by time, but small gestures of worship have been handed down through the generations. The roadside shrine has been a fixture of the forest for a long time. Travelers usually pray there for a safe journey, farmers pray for a good harvest, and hunters pray for a fruitful hunt. But no one remembers exactly why they pray or to whom.

Since Equinox, as Zola's reincarnation, is inherently connected to the land, it's natural that the forest reacts to his presence. This is something I've also been meaning to explore more through my writing.

Anyway, please enjoy!

The Roadside Shrine

Today, I was tasked with cleaning the small shrine just a little off the main road. No one knows the name of the God it’s dedicated to. No one is even sure who built it or how long it’s been there. But even so, my family has maintained it for as long as anyone can remember. We clean the shrine, we pray to it, and every season we make it a big offering. My father says the land here is fickle and sensitive, and that it needs constant reassurance to stay fertile. Our devotion, he says, is what has ensured our family’s good harvests through the generations.

There aren’t many farming the land around here anymore, though. We’re about the only ones left. There used to be more farmers a long time ago, my grandmother told me once, but their land dried up and became barren, so gradually, people left. Just two years ago, we had neighbors on the other side of the river. I used to play with the daughter when I was small, but I don’t remember her well anymore. She got married and left to the city almost five years ago now. But we were on friendly terms with that family for a long time— from before I was even born. Father used to smoke with the neighbor sometimes out on the porch. I’d watch their silhouettes through my bedroom window before being scolded to go back to sleep by my brother. I don’t know what they’d talk about, but their voices were always hushed and too distant for me to make out.

But then the grandpa of that family died, and Father says that the old ways must have died with him. Because their visits to the shrine became infrequent, and then soon, they stopped altogether. It wasn’t long after that when their crops began to die. I still remember tagging along with my father and older brother to the neighbor’s farm. They walked through the fields, and all the time deliberating how this could have occurred. No one seemed to have an answer. There was no sign of disease or pests.

I stood just a little ways from the front of the house, crouching down at the edge of the field. I rubbed the withered leaf of a corn stalk between my fingers and watched as it crumbled into dust from the friction. It fell from my hands, flittering in the air until it landed on the ground. I ran my fingers through the soil, cupping a portion in my hands. It was dry even though it had rained just the day before.

Then I heard yelling from where the men were by the barn. The man was yelling at my father and my brother, accusing our family of witchcraft. He said that our farm did well only because we took the vitality of all the surrounding land. It was nonsense. We would never do something like that. Besides, there hadn’t been a witch in our bloodline in generations. Our family had prided itself on the ability to work the land without needing magic.

But the man wouldn’t listen to reason. He shouted us off the farm, calling my father every manner of name. My brother and I were quickly herded into the cart by our father. In no time, the shouts were long behind us, and the rest of the ride home was silent, save for the rocking of the cart.

I asked my father about the incident that night, and he only shook his head. He tucked me in and turned away to leave. I watched him linger at the doorway, his back to me, his hand resting on the frame.

Without turning, he finally answered, “He’s taken the land for granted… Lost his way…”

A few months later, our neighbor packed up his things. He had sold the land. He didn’t say goodbye to us, but we saw his carriage leaving towards the city, strapped with everything he could fit into it. I think he went to live with his daughter, but Father said he wasn’t so sure. My older brother couldn’t meet my eyes when I said that, and it made me feel odd. As if there was something I didn’t know. I wonder if our neighbor had gotten into a fight with his daughter, and if so, I hope they have made up by now. I can’t ask because the subject is still so sensitive.

But now, it’s just us and our little farm. There are a few villages scattered around, too. The forest is massive, encompassing the Southern tip of Gowoa, edging into Lumin. Sometimes I make my way into town. Often I’m with my brother, selling our goods or buying supplies. Sometimes we go as a family to Temple and during festivals. But lately, I’ve been sneaking away as often as I can to explore the shops on Main Street.

I noticed the town feels smaller than it used to. My father says it’s just because I’m getting older now. But so many of the buildings are empty, and I’m sure they didn’t used to be. My grandmother told me that the town used to have a lot more people, but most moved away over the years. There was less and less opportunity when the shipping industry moved further up the coast. Mostly, it sustains itself through the summer tourism now. The rest of the year, it’s like a ghost town— even most of the other kids go off somewhere else for schooling. My family doesn’t have the money for that, or any relatives to house me, though, mainly, they need me here to work.

I drag the sponge across the roof of the little stone shrine, letting the water run down and pool at my feet. It sinks into the ground beneath. I grab the brush from the bucket and begin scrubbing between the ridges where the dirt always gets stuck. Bits of moss have started to grow on the side, and I can never fully get the green off, no matter how hard I scrub at them.

The shrine is structured like a tiny house, sitting on a pedestal. It has a large archway with a small stone plate inside, where we usually leave our offerings. Usually, the first thing I do when I come clean is throw the old offerings out. It almost seems like a waste to me, but who am I to argue with centuries of tradition? I know what Father and Grandmother say, but sometimes I really do wonder if there is a point to this. Maybe our family has always been lucky. Maybe the shrine has nothing to do with it at all, and it’s nothing more than comfort. Maybe the shrine is our way of feeling like we’re in control of chance. I worry I’ll become like our neighbor. That I’ll take the land for granted. That the farm will fall to me, and our family’s luck will end. I scrub harder at the shrine, hoping I am wrong.

But sometimes, when I peer into the woods from my bedroom window or from the edge of the field, I feel something strange. The forest is darker. Heavier. More alive? Last week, when I was picking berries by the creek, I swear it felt like the trees were watching me, and the wind felt like whispers as I walked the path home. It feels like something is changing, but no one else seems to notice. So I keep quiet. Tell myself I am imagining things.

I work diligently until I’m satisfied with the result. No dirt or bits of moss. The stone is still dark from the water. The air around it feels purer somehow. I take out a matchbox and a small bundle of rosemary from my satchel, carefully unwrapping its cloth covering. I strike a match against the stone and set the tip on fire before blowing it out. The smoke wafts out in a long, steady stream. I swirl it around the opening of the shrine, watching as it encircles the structure. Then, I leave the bundle next to the center plate, tucked slightly under its lip. The smoke is still billowing out, rising gently into the air. I don’t much like the smell, but it’s better outdoors than inside. I wonder briefly if the forest animals are bothered by the smell.

From my satchel, I begin to pull out the offerings my grandmother gave me: half a loaf of bread baked fresh this morning, an ear of corn from our first harvest of the season, and two gold coins. I arranged them all onto the plate, hiding the coins behind the bread. Lastly, I pour fresh water into a new, clean cup (tucking the old one into the satchel).

I stare at my work for a while. I wonder if the God of this shrine appreciates my efforts. I wonder if a god even lives here. I wonder if the squirrels watching me from the tree will tear apart the bread as soon as I leave.

I snap out of my thoughts by the ring of a distant laugh. It sounds like a boy. Someone else says something, the voice of a girl, though I can’t make out the words. It sounds like kids from the village, which I find odd because it’s the school season. I look up at the squirrels, and they look strangely attentive, though not threatened, as they face toward the direction of the chattering. One skitters down the tree, running towards the source. For some reason, I follow, crouching down in the bushes, muddying my knees as I crawl on the forest floor. I feel silly, but I can’t bring myself to turn back. The squirrel doesn’t mind me. It doesn’t even look my way. We sit side by side in the forest’s foliage, watching the main road. Waiting.

Then, from a turn in the path emerges a boy, and he’s the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. Time seems to stop, and all I can see is him. He has soft black hair with a gentle curl at its tips, sharp features like a fox, and bright, red eyes that glint in the spattering of sunlight that makes its way through the trees. He’s not beautiful in the way that the tourist boy from last summer, with whom I shared my first kiss, was beautiful. Nor is he handsome in the way that the six-pack men in the magazines are. He’s something different. Beyond that. Otherworldly.

And as I stare at him, I feel the way I do when I see the portrait of my mother that my father keeps in his desk. I feel overwhelmed. Overcome. Like the breath has been knocked out of me. Like I want to cry. It’s like looking at the stars. I feel small, but in a way that makes me feel lucky to be alive. For the first time since I was very little, I feel like I understand the world. All of my questions feel answered, but not in words. A sense of calm washes over me. I feel like everything will be alright.

As he draws closer, I am afraid I will be noticed, but he turns the other way and continues down the path in the opposite direction. I feel a sense of relief, but also sadness. Then I notice that the squirrel and I have gathered company. Two birds sit above us in the tree. A deer peeks out from the forest behind us. And a spider dangles from its web next to me. And all of us watch.

We watch until he is a speck in the distance. I notice for the first time that he walks alongside another figure. I remember I heard a girl’s voice, but I can’t remember seeing her. I almost feel guilty for being so enraptured by the boy.

The spider begins to crawl its way back to its web, and I hear the flapping of wings above me as the birds take off. I know I need to go myself. I get up, dusting off my skirt, and walk past the deer. It isn’t startled by me. Instead, it walks next to me for a while until our paths diverge, and it walks somewhere deeper into the forest.

When I get back to the shrine, I see the smoke has mostly withered away. I place my hand on its little stone roof. It’s cold and no longer damp. The squirrel from earlier runs past me. Before it reaches its tree, it stops to look back at me. Its nose twitches. I think our eyes meet. And then it rushes back up the tree, disappearing somewhere in its branches.

[princeoftrashy]

A comic about dehumanization.

Because Equinox was born without magic, he was always treated as an other. I think it led him to over-reliance on his looks and charisma to carry him through most situations. But coupled with that is the feeling of inauthenticity; he doesn't feel quite like himself most of the time because he's basically just stuck in survival mode 24/7, and it contributes to a lot of his self-hatred.

Despite how he acts on the outside, Equinox is a very anxious character. Sometimes his internal dialogue sounds like Chidi from The Good Place to me lol

I've been working on this comic for too long. I actually have an older draft from two years ago that I junked. I started working on it again sometime in September last year, and I've been coming back to it periodically. I'm happy to finally be done with it! I'm not super satisfied with the last page, but it's time to move on.

[princeoftrashy]

After many years, I finally made a relationship chart for my main OCs in TLO! I tried to make it less overwhelming by making some of the arrows lighter; hopefully, everything is still readable.

I also added Jam in! She is Minerva's love interest, of course. But a few months ago, I also mentioned my idea to absorb her into the main cast, which is technically still just an idea that I don't want to commit to unless I'm 100% sure— but I am growing increasingly attached to it, haha.

Some characters have extra arrows between them. That was my attempt to give more context to their relationships without cluttering the chart up with words.

My notes below:

Solstice started out as an enemy to the crew, so everyone who was there at the time gets a fun orange arrow! I debated placing this arrow between a few other characters as well, who served as antagonists to one another— but I decided to include it only if it was really that serious.

I almost made a separate category just for Velox and Equinox that would have had the label, “THAT’S MY BOY!!” They start off disliking each other when they first meet, but soon enough find themselves knee-deep in a “bromance” lol. I settled on not overcomplicating things and sticking with the best friends tag. But they are so close, I sort of consider Velox the fifth unofficial Nightmare brother.

Equinox and Mandy are/were best friends as teenagers, but their relationship gets more complicated as the story progresses. Without giving spoilers, they don't maintain that same level of closeness in adulthood.

It might be light, but I want to bring attention to the fact that Solstice and Minerva are besties! Jam and Solstice are also pretty close, and I've always thought of all three as a friend trio because they share so many similar interests. (Another reason, Jam slides into the main cast so easily.)

Cassandra and Equinox are half-siblings, as Cassandra has an extra parent (lore about how demon reproduction works). They didn't grow up together, and Equinox only met her as a teenager when Cassandra was adopted by Zakai. They didn't get along at first, with Equinox not knowing the full story and thinking she was an affair child, plus, feeling replaced after so many years of being away from home. Without spoiling things, Cassandra also doesn't allow herself to get too close at first due to plot reasons. But eventually, after getting over himself, Equinox's sincerity about making things work breaks down her walls and makes her feel like she really is a part of the family, which shifts her motivations a lot after that point.

I had to make an extra category last minute because I realized that Cassandra and Minerva rarely interact. Hasn't been on purpose! But they just don't have anything in common beyond running in the same circle and caring about Equinox. I imagine conversation between just the two (without the others present) would be very stilted, awkward, and end quickly.

I don't think of the "rival" category as being "not friends." Cassandra and Solstice compete a lot with each other, usually in terms of magic prowess, and they spar often. But they do actually like each other, even if they only would begrudingly admit it, and I honestly considered putting the "best friends" label there too! I can see them become especially close later in their lives.

Jam and Equinox butt heads a lot as teenagers! I've always felt they have a similar outward personality (though are different inwardly). But Equinox chills out with age, and Jam puts more of her energy towards her studies instead. Jam definitely thinks of their relationship as more of a rivalship, while Equinox has always seen her more as a friend than a rival. He even helped her get into her dream magic school (without her knowing, something she wasn't super pleased about when she found out years later) by using his connections as a prince. I debated putting a friendship tag between them to stress this, but decided against it to avoid the visual clutter. Rivals are a type of friend too! (At least in fiction lol.)

Equinox and Minerva are childhood friends and have known each other since diapers!

I don't really like writing love triangles (at least not traditional ones where girls fight over some guy), so Mandy and Solstice are friends! Without spoilers... It's important to note that not every "arrow" on this chart happens at the same time. Some characters met earlier or later, relationships change and develop, and arcs don't neccessaily happen congruently.

[princeoftrashy]

Equinox is a ragebaiter and loves dying on stupid hills just to irritate his sister, Cassandra— who always takes the bait lol

This is crucial information for understanding their characters.

Four-paneled version just for fun!

[princeoftrashy]

New video on YouTube!

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I will be alternating titles every week! I hope this helps keep things fresh and interesting every stream since we'll be hopping into a different game each time :)

Join me this Friday on Twitch at 6 PM (pst) for our first stream of the year! 🎉✨

[Twitch] | [YouTube] | [Instagram] | [Ko-fi]

Update: On a hiatus until Summer (most likely).

[princeoftrashy]

Happy New Year's Eve! 🎊