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[Blender] Phosphor by family_staralternate_emailMelodiSmol

posted last year, edited last year

Made in Blender (Cycles render at 4096 samples)

Did my partner's Splatoon OC in Blender, with a simple pose

Render time: 2 mins

Phosphor(c) Phosphorshy
Blender render by me

Originally posted on Jan 5 2024

blender oc splatoon

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The Chromozerda in the CrystalThe morning of the Spring Ceremony was always filled with energy and excitement. Chromozerdas scurried back and forth with flowers, fungi, feathers, and beautiful stones. The agile, fox-like creatures had fur of all colors - brilliant reds, purples, and every color in-between. Their pointed ears were rabbit-like; yet their feet ended in small hooves. The creatures used the items they carried to make a ring of color around the outside of the grove at the center of their covert. In a nearby den, others used their hooves to crush berries, and flowers, and soft rocks into powders and dyes. It was a vibrant feast of color. Though unknown to most of the world, chromozerdas were responsible for all of the colors in it. The strange animals had almond-shaped skulls that ended in a heart-shaped nose. They had no need for jawlines, as they sustained themselves on the color wavelengths of the objects around them, which they absorbed through their fur. Primary and secondary colors were absorbed and released as tertiary; tertiary colors were broken down and released as primary and secondary. Alpenglow returned to the covert with orange blossoms grasped in her prehensile tail. The dark brown, nutrient rich soil was still clinging to the roots from where she’d ripped them from the ground. She was small, with a dull, dusty lavender coat. The vibrance of a chromozerda’s coat showed their strength and health. Their coats turned dull when they were sick or malnourished. But, Alpen’s had always been dull. All her life, she had been told that was why she was so much smaller than her siblings. She was simply born wrong. Alpenglow placed her flowers in the ring; then shouldered past the vines shielding the entrance of a den. The divining prism sat in the center of the room - a clear, highly reflective crystal that the elders received signs from. Alpen examined her dull, desaturated coat in the crystal’s surface. Long ago, the gods of Rain, Light, and Change banded together to create the chromozerdas - to bless the mortal realm with the gift of color. But, Change - being as flighty and unpredictable as he was - betrayed his sisters and tried to destroy the very species they’d created. They said that Change, having only a coat of grey, black, and white, had grown jealous of his vibrant children. Thankfully, his sisters banished him, saving the spectrums all over the world. Though, it was believed Change was always lurking, ready to poison the spectrums from within, and that he’d mark his subjects with desaturated colors. Alpen’s ears flicked back as her eyes scanned her pale coat, the white splotches on her face, and the dark stripe on her tail. The colors in her coat - the desaturated lights and darks - they were the marks of Change’s influence. She hid her tail behind her legs so she wouldn’t have to see it anymore. Having dull, desaturated colors not only was the mark of a frail chromozerda, but an unholy one. She was simply born corrupt. She could see two chromozerdas walking past the den in the crystal’s reflection. They had used chalk to further saturate their fur and wore complimentary colored flowers and feathers. It was a tradition to accentuate one’s best features for ceremonies. Alpen had no “best features,” she would simply have to settle for covering her worst ones. She turned to the purple chalk and began to scoop it with her tail, trying to make herself look presentable. “Alpenglow?” Ruby’s voice rang in her head. As chromozerdas had no mouths, they used telepathy to communicate instead. “Ramalina’s spectrum has arrived.” “Can you help me cover the stripe on my tail?” Alpenglow grimaced. “You know it’s my worst feature…” When she finally looked up at her former mentor, Alpen saw a face she knew all too well. The older chromozerda’s ears were pinned back, with her eyes squinting, and her brows furrowed. It was a look of pity. “Alpenglow… You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.” Alpenglow felt her skin turn to ice, her fur standing on end. “Something I’m not? I’m just as pious as everyone else here. I’m just as worthy as everyone else.” “I didn’t mean it like that, Alpen… I just think you shouldn’t have to-” “Really? Because it sounds like you don’t want me to look as faithful as I feel.” Alpen stood up, determined to stand her ground. “Maybe… maybe my coat is a test from the gods! To shun Change’s mark. Did you ever think of that?!” She raised her tail, letting her fur harden into spikes - a chromozerda’s main weapon. “Alpen…” “No! You didn’t! If you just came here to accuse me of blasphemy, then you can leave.” Ruby straightened - her shoulders tall; her tail swept up. She looked as though she was about to give Alpen the lecture of her life. Alpenglow braced herself. Then, the fight seemed to leave Ruby just as it had come. Her shoulders sagged, her tail dropped, and she huffed softly through her nose. She padded out of the den without a word. Alpen dropped her own tail, relaxing her fur. Ruby was dark red, but she was a brilliant, saturated red. And, so long as you were saturated, it didn’t really matter how dark (or light) your coat got. Ruby would never understand what it was like; her experience simply wasn’t the same. She felt horribly sorry, though. Ruby had always been there for her. Maybe she’d overreacted. She made a move to go after her when a new voice rang in her head. “If it isn’t my little raincloud!” Alpen sank down into her coat, feeling grayer than ever. She tried to cover herself with her chalk-coated tail. But, she forced herself to perk her ears - it wouldn’t be right for him to see her sulk. “Lichen!” Lichen bounded towards her. He had a dark teal coat with a brilliant, seafoam green chest. He was gorgeous and confident. He was the son of Ramalina, leader of their neighboring spectrum. And Alpen was his to-be. They were to be bound next spring as mates, uniting their two spectrums. It was a political agreement, of course. But, of all the chromozerdas in Alpen’s spectrum, he had chosen her to be his mate. Nobody seemed to understand why. “Need help putting your chalk on?” Lichen asked, looking her over. “Yes, please,” Alpen sighed, relieved to have some help. Lichen helped her cover the dark stripe under her tail and dusted chalk onto the white splotches on her face, saturating her coat and covering her least desirable features. Once he’d finished, he turned her back towards the prism. “Look at that clear sky! Not a grey cloud in slight!” He wrapped his tail around her back. “Aren’t you beautiful?” Alpenglow examined the saturated purple stranger, who stared back at her with her blue eyes. She wanted so badly to believe that lie. Lichen placed a yellow flower behind her ear. “And look! The sun has come out.” He beckoned her with his tail, tugging her forward. “Come on, darling. The ceremony is starting soon, and you know I have to walk out there with my to-be.” There were nearly a hundred chromozerdas in the grove by the time Alpen and Lichen walked in. She pressed close to his coat - the spectrum was kinder to her when he was around. She saw Ruby in the crowd, but she either didn’t notice Alpen or was ignoring her. Ray and Ramalina, the leaders of their two spectrums, stood on a stump and raised their tails until a silence fell over the crowd. “Thank you all for being here,” Ray began, “the union of our spectrums makes us stronger. Another harsh winter has ended, and, as the plants have provided for us throughout the cold, we must now provide for them.” “Take the energy from the items you’ve gathered and use them to provide energy anew,” Ramalina ordered. As one, the crowd began to pull color from the ring around the grove. The items turned grey as their coats seemed to glow with color. For a moment, the crowd held the energy. Then, together, they released it to the trees and bushes in their covert, which exploded with dark leaves and colorful blossoms. Petals drifted down to the crowd as the trees shook. Alpen stared up at the yellow pollen raining onto her snout. She turned to Lichen, but he’d moved away to speak with others. She caught a glimpse of her tail as she turned. Even under all that chalk, she could still see her dull stripe. She would never be the chromozerda in the crystal… Seasons later, Alpenglow, no, Penelope stood on a dry, overgrown lawn. She had shed her name when her spectrum had cast her out. Lichen hadn’t been enough to raise her social status - in fact, he hadn’t even fought for her. No amount of chalk could change what she was. In some ways she found what had happened to be inevitable. She placed flowers and rocks around a single, scraggly bush behind a house that could desperately use a power wash and a new coat of paint. August, a blonde teen with the worst cowlick anyone had ever seen, sat on his knees beside her, placing colorful marbles in the grass. As a seer, August was one of the few humans in existence that could see chromozerdas as they really were. He’d found her and took her in after her spectrum had cast her out. Most days she tried to forget the spectrum, but the Spring Ceremony had always been special to her. She could never do the whole backyard by herself, but she could certainly do one bush. Having emptied the bag of marbles, August frowned at the ratty-looking shrub. “Won’t it bloom on its own?” Pen bumped August’s thigh with her shoulder. “Of course it will. But, this is more fun. You’ll see.” Penelope trotted over to the sidewalk chalk August has bought from the dollar store earlier that morning, crushing the purple stick beneath her hooves. “Penelope?” Pen turned her head to look at Domanic, who put the flowers he was holding into the pile without breaking eye contact. “What are you doing?” Domanic was a poppet-demon. He had pale yellow fur - nearly white - with black markings, rabbit-like ears, and twin tails. If her spectrum had seen him, he would have been a sign of the apocalypse. Penelope was quiet for a moment. “…Just coloring my fur.” She dabbed up some of the dust with her tail, watching the way the dust was displaced very intently. She could feel Domanic’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t look up. A part of her worried once she explained that Domanic would suddenly realize how dull she was - that he’d care. “It’s a tradition during ceremonies to accentuate your best features.” “Oh. Why didn’t you say so?” With a zipping pop and a flash of light, Domanic teleported out of the yard. Penelope felt her ears slowly lower. She realized she has secretly been hoping for more. For him to say something in protest. Something about him leaving made it worse - it was familiar and the wounds felt so fresh. She turned back to the chalk just as there was a new zipping pop, Domanic appearing right in her face. She tried to stumbled back, but Domanic was tying something around her neck. She craned to look once he let go and found a powder-blue ribbon around her neck. “Your eyes are, by far, your most beautiful feature,” Domanic explained. “…If we’re strictly speaking physically, of course.” Pen didn’t know what to say. She stared at him for a moment; his purple eyes were also bright against his dull coat. She rubbed some of the chalk on her tail down the bridge of his nose. “…Your eyes are your most beautiful feature too.” Domanic shrank back in shock before he closed his eyes, turning his nose to the sky. “Demons don’t have beautiful features. We’re fearsome.” “Well, I don’t know about fearsome, but you’re definitely not beautiful,” August said from across the yard. “Silence Seer!” Domanic snapped, glaring over his shoulder at August. After a moment, his fur flattened and he turned back towards Pen, blowing the chalk dust off her tail. “You don’t need that.” She almost protested. But… then she quietly wiped her tail off in the grass. Scooping the chalk bucket up with her tail, Pen carried it over to the bush. “Okay. Are we ready?” Domanic leaped up onto August’s head to watch as August grumbled in annoyance. Huffing in amusement, Pen turned to the bush. She readied herself into a stance so familiar and stole all the color from the objects piled in front of the bush before shooting it back into the plant. Leaves burst from the branches as red-orange blossoms bloomed all over. It wasn’t a spectacular shower of pollen and petals, but it was a beautiful burst of color in the rundown yard. The boys applauded, causing Pen to turn towards them. She caught her tail out of the corner of her eye as she turned. Somehow, it looked more vibrant than ever - just as it was.

The Long Way HomeEver since Inkopolis had grown more centralized and the monorail had been installed, most of the old trains that ran between it and the countryside had been closed. Most lines were intercity—if that counted for the cities swallowed under the name, if not jurisdiction, of Inkopolis—and underground stations were fewer and farther between than the overland routes. But a few still ran, maintaining stops out to Bluefin Depot and Saltspray Rig and Camp Triggerfish. Yes, the kettles could take her straight into the heart of the city—but scuffed up as she was, Agent gear still flashing, dragging a stolen suitcase for reasons better left unquestioned, it’d earn her more looks than she wanted to bargain for. And she didn’t feel like gambling a place to lie down. She hadn’t been sleeping lately, didn’t have the energy. Her eyes were half-shut and dull. Tired. Always tired, lately. So. She’s taking the long way home. Two fingers push one earbud in; a turn of her head, then the other; the high, soft collar of her jacket brushes against her cheek and her knuckles bump against her headset. She stands stiff and still, feet a hips-width apart. This station’s on the outskirts—abandoned, once, then reopened a few years ago without much explanation. It was a money sink, but no one in government had complained. Still, the trains here only ran thrice every twenty-four hours (10 AM, 6 PM, 2 AM, said the scratched placard on the wall), and nothing but silence echoed in between. A guest speaker drones on about humanity’s fourth world war in her ears. She watches the mounted analog clock tick closer to two and studies the walls—concrete, water-stained, covered with faded graffiti and posters whose features ended a long time ago. Some of the symbols that peek through look familiar: an octopus shape and an arrow painted in magenta, and a sticker she’s almost sure she saw on a parka in Jelonzo’s shop. Plain wooden crates loom in stacks in the corners: some are rotted, others splintered and scattered across the floor. The back of her neck prickles and she curls her lip instead. It slides down her spine like glacial surging, slow and cold and shivering. She scuffs her foot on the floor and ignores it, ignores the rumbling in her stomach, ignores the distant aching of her limbs. Her vest is frayed and her legs are bare and the station’s wet chill sinks its teeth in deep. So many electric lights keep flickering. It must have felt like home to them. Finally, the train roars in the distance. She’s almost there. (And it will be as cold and dim and beaten-down there too. But—she has to remember—it’s in these places that she thrives. Homes are no more than people and places she trespasses on. ) Camp Triggerfish’s Main Station is cleaner than this: a metal pavilion open to the elements, covered in summer-camp stickers and trinkets and crafts, raised on stilts like trellises that the weather force fields can’t stop vines from scaling. But it’s still another twenty-minute ride into the surrounding wild before she finds her cabin. Her footsteps will echo hollow on the diamond-plate platform, and she’ll push apart the undergrowth to find her bike, tie the suitcase down over the back wheel, and tumble into the valleys beyond. Oh, she says she’s not afraid—it becomes a mantra, a chanting, a war cry. Oh, she says she’s not afraid, but she’d be a liar if she said it wasn’t ‘cause she’s used to it.