#I will reblog this a couple times!

[curiositypolling]

GMT time

this will only vaguely work if it gets some spread so reblogs appreciated!

[vampireharpy]

The ocean chose me. I don't know why.

[bowelfly]

COMING THIS SUMMER:

7 MONTHS 36 ARTISTS 1 REALLY PERSISTENT SKELETON

IT'S THE 2023 TRUNGOTHON MEGA ART TELEPHONE GAME

[RATED R]

RIDICULOUS. this was so big that even with tumblr's recently expanded image limit i still had to weld every other image together to fit it into one post, but if you want to see every image in its full glory, i made a page for it on my website (jankily hand-coded and probably not very mobile friendly).

it was so fun to see which elements stuck around and for how long. i still can't believe the skeleton got banished and then resurrected 15 iterations later!

huge thanks to everyone who participated. in order:

@mobileleprechaun, ink drinker, @dimetrodrawn, @escherbug, @gachimushi, @ikrutt, @dunwichdrawsstuff, @mathpope, @bedupolker, @solidagold, @a-beepbop, thenauticalwarlock, @ohpsshaw, @eisly, @juenavei, me, @librivore42, @greedol, @mechabutchzilla, @phanta-friends, @tickfleato, @skelizard, elixer, @espimyte, @noctomnis-art, @bluedotjpeg, @fetus-cakes, @iguanodont, @flame-shadow, @kombuchaclock, @slimekingmike, @crtastrophe, @leona-florianova, @skelebee, @nutspider, @palossssssand, and gachimushi again for the header image to this post

whew! now time to seriously consider a yearlong 72-artist game...

[gayvampcentral]

I've seen a lot of posts (and reblogged/queued a few as you might've seen) abt the HP game recently which I'm assuming means it dropped? Anyway I don't want to put this in the tags of posts by jewish people as I don't want to add onto those even in tag form as a gentile and reblogging someone else's post that says to unfollow me if you support the game doesn't feel direct enough, so I'm making my own post for it:

Please unfollow/block me if you plan on playing this game.

Yes, pirating counts. I don't want you here. If you don't care about the safety of jewish people enough to do the bare minimum of not fucking playing this game then I'm begging you to reevaluate. If you still are into HP in the year 2023 then I don't know how to help you.

Hating nazis and terfs is not enough. You have to love transfem and jewish people more than you claim to hate their oppressors and that starts with shit like this. So once again: If you plan on playing this game because you still can't let go of a franchise the support of which directly harms the people you think you care about then never talk to or interact with me again please.

[chestnutisland]

Some sketches.

[organsoutsidelovinglydescribed]

Hey! Myde here! I'm going to be out of state with limited internet access for a week or so, so have a google form to suggest things.

You can fill out as many times as you'd like. Have fun!

[auriidae]

goofy hermit doodles!! because uhh why not!!

[shripscapi]

Recently cleaned up some oc portraits so that I could update their lore post for the few people that are interested <3 I'll give the same disclaimer as before that I'm not a master worldbuilder or even a very good writer tbh. these are just my dolls I play with for fun.

anyways long post ahead here is your introductory guide to the characters of fitaly (fake italy) a fictional duchy set in the early 16th century.

Antonia de' Farona Antonia is the eldest child of the Duke Niccolò de' Farona. Though they interact infrequently, she has a wretched relationship with Andrea Bernardi, her sister's betrothed. She finds him dismissive and condescending and is suspicious of his behavior around her maid, Lucia. When she is wed, she brings Lucia with her to her husband's villa. The marriage lasts roughly 5 years until her husband passes (I haven't worked out from what yet, but it's not particularly integral to the story.) Seeing as they have no children, her husband's family contests her right to retain his properties and she returns to her father's palazzo, Lucia in tow. She is largely reclusive as a widow and prefers to remain in her apartments, despite having more relative freedom than her sisters. She sees Andrea as undeserving of her father's affection and believes that had she not had the "misfortune" to be born a woman it would be her in his place, and truly loathes him after her return. Despite this, there is a brief attempt by her father to offer her hand in marriage to Andrea after the death of Isabella, but she wholly refuses and begins spreading nasty (but not entirely untrue, nor undeserved) rumors about Andrea throughout court to deter further pursuits.

Isabella de' Farona Second child to the Duke Niccolò. She has been betrothed to Andrea Bernardi since they were both children. She finds him less objectionable than her sister Antonia does, but she is certainly not enamored with him. Isabella is a vivacious and charming girl, though Andrea seems entirely immune to her charms. She dies abruptly at the age of 16 (allegedly after suffering an acute illness, but circumstances are suspect) before she and Andrea are ever wed.

Maddelena de' Farona Maddalena is the Duke's third daughter, and she's rather meek but sweet. She's not particularly pivotal to the story, but it IS important to note that she too has already been betrothed, hence why Marietta had to resort to trying to marry Andrea to her widowed sister.

Paulo de' Farona Paulo is also not particularly relevant, but he's currently the Duke's only surviving male heir (thus far), so he's very doted on.

Lorenzo de' Bassani Administrator in the court of Duke Niccolò de' Farona. Lorenzo was instrumental in arranging a marriage between his young nephew Andrea and Isabella de' Farona with the intent that they would wed when they reached maturity. He hosts Andrea more and more frequently as he gets older, and secures him secretarial work at court.

Andrea Bernardi Andrea was betrothed to Isabella as a child as a means of satisfying his mother's political aspirations. Andrea is educated and ambitious but somewhat dour for his age. He leaves his family's villa to seek employment at court when he's 16, which he secures with the help of his uncle Lorenzo. He coerces Antonia's maid, Lucia, whom he is infatuated with into entering a relationship with him while at court, but shortly thereafter Antonia is wed and takes Lucia with her. During this time, he is taken under the wing of Duke Niccolò, who sees his younger self in Andrea's ambition. Several years later, when Lucia returns to the palazzo after the death of Antonia’s husband, he resumes their relationship while Antonia grows even more resentful of him. Isabelle dies before she and Andrea can fulfill the marriage contract. He is in no hurry to find a new match, but his mother immediately proposes that he marry the Duke's eldest, widowed daughter. Niccolò is inclined to agree, but Antonia causes such a fuss about the matter that it's quickly abandoned. Andrea leaves court abruptly, and takes Lucia with him, much to Antonia's dismay. Meanwhile, his mother secures the daughter of a Spanish ambassador to be his wife. The two have a very brief betrothal period before they're wed and Ysabel goes to live with him away from the eyes at court.

Ysabel de Torres y Mendoza Ysabel is the daughter of a Spanish ambassador and overall a very reserved girl. She finds herself somewhat isolated outside of Spain. Initially, she is tentatively pleased by her marriage to Andrea— she assumes he is keeping a respectful distance to allow her to acclimate— but it becomes clear over time that he is genuinely disinterested in her, and she has to fight for any semblance of affection from him. He makes no secret of Lucia as their marriage progresses, and young Ysabel chooses to make Lucia the object of her loathing rather than confront her unfaithful husband. Overall, it is an unhappy marriage from the outset. Despite this, she and Andrea eventually have children together, whom he is similarly uninterested in, except for their son.

Lucia Lucia is my favorite oc I will not even pretend to be unbiased... She is Antonia's servant and a notorious flirt and gossip. Though several years older than Andrea, she unwittingly gets his attention and is pressured into a relationship with him when he first arrives at court. Having been humiliated by the discovery that her former lover was already married with a wife and children at home, she found Andrea's overwhelming attentions a consolation for her wounded ego and a refreshing change of pace. However, by the time of Antonia's marriage, she's grown restless and is ready to leave Andrea's immature behavior behind. During her years away, she takes another lover (with some unexpected complications) but once again leaves him behind when she and Antonia return to the palazzo. Upon her return, she is surprised to find that Andrea even remembers her— even more so that he again pursues her— but she believes he's matured and acquiesces to further relations with him. After Isabella's death and the disastrous marriage negotiations with Antonia, Andrea offers to offers to take Lucia with him away from the palazzo. She accepts, and briefly experiences a honeymoon period where he freely showers her with affection away from prying eyes. Unfortunately, the arrival of his new wife complicates matters, and tensions begin to escalate as Andrea fails to satisfy the wants and needs of both his wife and mistress all under the same roof.

Bartolomea Lucia's mother (and only known relative) and also a palazzo servant. She claims that Lucia's father was a craftsman who died shortly before Lucia's birth, forcing Bartolomea to find work in the palazzo to support herself and the expected child. The story about her father is 100% not true, but Lucia believes it. Neither she nor her daughter are literate.

I think that’s all for now.. it is hard for me to figure out how to introduce them bc I have a lot of lore backlogged but hopefully everything here makes sense <3

[creativesplat]

I would also like to see some miphlink, if that's okay!

I was really struggling with what to draw, and then I remembered your ask from ages ago (dang ADHD brain...) anyway, sorry its such a late answer, but Miphlink inspired by Dicksee's La Belle Dame

[the-insomniac-emporium]

She's The Skeleton In My Closet (Mia Winters/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil/Resident Lover Genre: fluff? and whatever is a step down from smut Rating: T? not quite horny enough for M. Warnings: Brief, non-descriptive mentions of death/bloodshed, and relatively minor choking in a sexual context (it's more of a hand position than actual choking). Reader is referred to as a girl once by a side character. Summary: It's the end of another loop, and Mia allows herself to get closer to you... through a game of Seven Minutes In Heaven. Notes: Inspired by two pieces of art by @vivi-ness, specifically this and this. If you want to skip to the part of this fic that actually takes place in the closet (aka the making out part), start reading after the second section break -----. I did not mean for the lead-up to be as long as it ended up being. Also might make a part 2 with actual smut?

Alone. Curled up with the brazen darkness wrapped around her like a blanket, Mia’s eyes straining, as she glanced over her notes by candlelight. Less than thirty feet away raged a party fit to shake the heavens. As with every semester, the Umbrella Sorority felt inclined to celebrate the end of exams. Blaring music, countless games on rotation, enough booze to drown the world (or set it all ablaze). Even the theatre kids know to defer to the sorority for this evening. Normally, Mia would not hesitate to join in, downing shots of whiskey and kicking ass at every other game, all the while keeping keen eyes on interesting people.

Ah, but not tonight. Not with the reset looming in the distance, date preselected. Another loop on death row. There was plenty of work to be done, mostly preparations for the ritual, but Mia’s focus was on… other matters. Scanning through old tomes, searching for something that may prove useful in the next rotation. Maybe not enough to finally end the cycle, no, of course not, just something to influence it. Push it in the right direction, despite Miranda’s many protests regarding “interference”.

But there’s a knock on the door, and Mia pauses, unsure if it was simply the bass speakers thumping the walls again. A beat passes before the knock repeats, louder this time. Off-tempo. Quickly, she places her journal aside without marking her place (she remembers, of course, that it is page 28), then blows out the candles. Even as the darkness swallows the last sanctuary of light, her movements are smooth, flowing. In one motion she flips the light switch and unlatches the door.

“What’s up?” She asks, sickly sweet and every bit faking it, staring down at the unexpected visitor. They’re a sophomore, she thinks, a small woman whose name starts with an A. Or an E, maybe. Most loops have her just barely in Mia’s peripheral, sharing a single class but never really interacting. Definitely not the person she would have wanted to come knocking at her door. Only a brief moment passes before the woman replies, her gaze briefly (and unsubtly) scanning the room, voice filled with the unironic enthusiasm that made her grate on Mia’s nerves.

“Well, we’re one person short for 7 Minutes in Heaven- we had enough people, technically, but a few left after Cassandra got picked early, you know how it is- and so I was wondering if you’d join? It’s so weird not having you at the party, anyway, really feels like we’re missing an integral piece of the vibe, you know?” Alissa (if that was her name) says, offering a lopsided smile. Faint pink dusts her freckled cheeks, only some of it being makeup. One of her hands starts to reach for Mia, to rest a flirtatious hand against her shoulder, but the flash of something darker in her expression makes Alissa pull back.

“Oh, I would love to play, but technically my exams aren’t finished,” Mia answers, sporting a half-assed pout, dragging the words out. She lets her tongue click on the t in technically for emphasis. It’s not the best excuse, especially considering Elise (or whatever her name is) also still has one final left. All because the student council took one day too long to remind a certain professor that he couldn’t force students to complete a ritual as part of their exam. Not that Mia would have minded a little school-sanctioned bloodplay, especially since she knows (from experience) that the ritual Dr. Wesker had in mind wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Mia, we both know you don’t need to study for our Occult Sciences class; you could probably teach it at this point!” Anna (Áine?) chimes, grinning wide, blissfully unaware of the true accuracy of her statement. Mia could teach the class, far better than the actual professor, although at that point it would be considerably harder to keep the university’s secrets. But that doesn’t mean she has any interest in joining the party.

Her reluctance must show, because the shorter woman (whose name may or may not be Enya) squints, lips pursing before she abruptly straightens up and switches tactics.

“Besides… your favorite person is playing,” she adds, leaning in to stage-whisper, glancing down the hallway as if checking for eavesdroppers. Despite the confidence in her voice, Mia stares at her blankly. As much as she definitely has a favorite, the one her very soul is bound to, she finds it unlikely that Eliza would know… right? It’s not like they’ve even spent that much time together this loop. Surely she’d been able to keep her cards close to her chest; it’s not like Eliza was terribly observant anyway. Unfortunately for Mia, her thoughts get cut off by another high-pitched exclamation. “Don’t play dumb, Mia! The girl with one earring, roommates with Angie and the youngest Dimitrescu?”

Well. Fuck. So much for being subtle…

-----

Turning down Anamaria (no, not that one, the other one) became impossible the second Mia’s eyes lit up, all at the mere mention of you. Within a minute she had relented, murmuring a few choice words under her breath, allowing herself to be all but dragged to a crowded living room. It takes all of her willpower to maintain a guise of boredom, lips drawn tight as she scanned the partygoers for familiar faces. A slight tension formed in her chest as she intentionally avoided looking at the center of the room, having caught a glimpse of familiar clothing, saving the sight for last. 

Caldwell is by the back corner, playing some complicated boardgame with a mildly enthused Stanley (and a confused but nonetheless supportive Jasmin), positioned where they can keep an eye out for trouble. All three of the Stans could be found hovering by the alcohol, debating whether to leave now or wait for Cassandra to inevitably grab a refill. Somehow Anamaria (yes, that one) was half asleep, tuckered out from one too many party games, curled up against a blushing Livia. Both were chatting with Angie, who was perched precariously on the back of the couch. The only thing keeping the short girl from falling off was a hand clutching one of her belt loops, pulling as necessary to rebalance her.

As Mia’s eyes traced the hand to its owner, she inhaled sharply, the slightest flare to her nostrils. There you are. Eyes crinkled at the edges while you laugh at one of Daniela’s jokes, the sound barely audible past the music, your mouth open in a genuine, shameless grin. Mia allows herself a single moment to admire the view. Luck plays a trick on her then, your gaze suddenly shifting to her, eyes widening when you meet her stare. Immediately you look away, warmth in your face contrasting the way your shoulders tense.

If Mia hadn’t torn her gaze away, flinching like she got burned, she would have seen the way your friends reacted, the way they jumped at the opportunity to tease you. Instead, she lets herself get tugged over to a spare chair by the woman hosting the game.

“Damn, Iris, I didn’t think you’d actually convince Mia to play,” Nicoletta says, trailing her eyes up and down Mia, appreciatively, before turning to the one who had dragged her here. Guess her name doesn’t start with an A or an E after all, Mia thinks, before shrugging off the attention. None of these people know her terribly well, beyond reputation, and she can’t be bothered to unpack why they wanted her here.

“I mean, I kind of had to, with how hard Iris was begging me,” Mia says, pointedly ignoring their gazes in favor of inspecting her nails (short, smoothed over, no polish today). Protests stream from next to her, while a few chuckles rise up around the room. A smirk crosses her lips as she makes eye contact with Iris. Before the woman can explain that Mia only agreed because you’re playing, she speaks up again, propping her feet up on the coffee table as she does. “So, are we drawing names from a hat or what?”

“Close, half of us already put a trinket or whatever in the bag. Anyone who didn’t put one in gets to draw one at some point,” Iris explains, eager to move past the embarrassment from Mia’s lie. “Since you had to be… convinced, you can go ahead and be the one to draw next. Once the lovebirds in the closet are done, that is!”

Nodding, Mia withdrew into herself again, content to sit in silence until her turn. Why had she agreed to this, exactly?... It’s not as if she’s ideologically opposed to party games, but she’d always been more of a fan of the ones that involve drinking. Maybe spin-the-bottle, if she was in the mood for it. But Seven Minutes In Heaven? Too time-consuming, and absolute torture if one got stuck with the wrong partner. What were the odds she’d even get paired up with you? Was that even what she wanted?

Something about this particular loop was messing with her head. Every other one so far involved you falling in love with somebody, even if it ended poorly. But this time?... She had been sure you’d end up with Daniela or Angie, with the way you pushed studies aside for parties, never officially joining the sorority but being a frequent guest at their dorm. Living it up, only getting serious when you helped break Daniela’s curse (not because you loved her, but because you love her, the same way you pour your heart into loving all of your friends).

That’s why the reset was looming overhead, of course. Your faith in Miranda lay shattered, if it had ever existed in the first place, your distrust a crime she considered worthy of oblivion. Any life where you would not love her was, to Miranda, a life unfit to continue.

Mia gets pulled out of her thoughts by a door opening, old hinges squawking in protest. Two flustered women readjust their clothing as they exit the closet, both sporting bright red cheeks, utterly oblivious to the fact that they had swapped shirts. Naturally, they are not allowed to remain ignorant for long, a chorus forming of drunken cheers and teasing remarks. Not everyone focuses on the couple, however, and Mia feels the weight of someone’s gaze on her.

Once more she looks to you, just in time for you to look away, although this time she notices something odd: You aren’t wearing your earring. How interesting. Suddenly she finds herself itching to take her turn, but she suppresses her thirst, not wanting to earn any gentle ribbing from the others. Another minute passes before the paper bag actually gets passed to her, Iris winking as their fingers brush up against each other. Maintaining eye contact, Mia reaches into the bag, offering a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

There are still five or six items inside, some of them in familiar shapes. A watch with a cracked face, one of those tiny skateboards (a Tech Deck, maybe?), a basic bracelet… None of them interest her, but it only takes another second for her to grasp her target, the cool surface smooth under her touch. Carefully, she retrieves it, ensuring the earring doesn’t snag on any of the other items.

With a triumphant smirk, she holds it up in the light. Although disappointment shows in Iris’ face, Mia can’t help but notice the way Daniela nudges your side with a knowing grin. Even Angie turns to whisper something in your ear, almost tumbling off the couch with how hard she laughs at the instant flush to your face, exasperation clear in your posture. Nonetheless, you rise on shaky legs, not meeting Mia’s gaze as the two of you move towards the unoccupied closet…

-----

“Have fun in there! Seven minutes starts when the door closes,” Iris chimes, having readopted her mask of overexcited joy, all but pushing you in after Mia. There’s a sharp click right after, the door settling into place. Another click, softer, and the small space becomes sparsely illuminated. You blink a few times to adjust to the dim lighting, glancing up in time to see Mia… on her phone? Before you can question her, she taps a button and sets it down on one of the shelves behind her, and you catch a glimpse of a timer on the screen.

“Six and a half minutes,” she says, as if that was all the explanation needed. Then she’s leaning forward, expression blank, hands reaching out to-... put your earring back where it belongs. It’s an oddly intimate experience, feeling out of place in a game that focused on a different kind of intimacy. If only it lasted longer than a few moments. Once she pulls away, there’s a noticeable flush to her cheeks. “Wouldn’t want anyone to catch us in a compromising position, right?”

Despite her words, Mia makes no further moves to touch you. One hand fiddles with the hem of her jacket, the other tucks her own hair behind her ear, the movement awkward in the cramped space. It’s easy enough to mistake her countenance for a kind of nervousness. Playing wasn’t her idea, after all, and you feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited about getting paired with her. Could she tell? Was she worried by the thundering of your heart, by the warmth of your presence?

Internally, however, Mia is struck with the sudden urge for her favorite brand of intimacy: Violence. Of the last eighteen times she was this close to you, with your breath just barely ghosting her skin, sixteen of those meetings had ended with homicide, attempted or otherwise. Gods, it was her curse, to only know your touch when she initiated it with heavy hands. To be so well acquainted with the feeling of your blood on her skin that it has become more familiar than her own. When was she last able to touch you without the many promises of pain? Can she even trust herself to love without consuming?

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, I know you probably weren’t planning on this tonight,” you say, softly, offering a weak smile. Now you’re the nervous one, rubbing your arm as if the sensation might smooth out your anxiety. It’s not until you feel Mia lean the slightest bit forward that you dare to meet her gaze. Something haunts her expression, lying beneath the flushed cheeks and hooded eyes. Before you can even blink, she’s brought her hand back up, cupping your chin and making sure your gaze never leaves hers.

“And if I do want to do something?” Mia whispers. One of her fingers shifts, gently tracing over the front of your throat. If only you knew how excited she got by the feeling of your heart racing beneath her fingertips. In contrast, she is all the more aware of the way your breath hitches at her touch. The way you look up at her with dilated pupils makes her every bit hungrier. Just one taste, she thinks, eying your lips. How was it fair that in all these loops, she had never once gotten to kiss you? “Tell me you want this. Say it, or I go right now, game be damned.”

She knows it’s not fair to put that pressure on you, to make you choose that very second. But she doesn’t care, not at all, not when she knows you’re already on the brink of giving in.

“Please, Mia,” you say, voice almost whiny from sudden need, a hand moving to clutch her jacket. More words get stuck in your throat, a part of your mind still keenly aware of how swiftly the mood has changed. Had Mia ever been nervous? Maybe, maybe just not the way you had interpreted her to be. No traces of hesitation can be found in her expression as she slides her hand lower, fingers resting on either side of your neck, only enough pressure for you to really feel her. A silent urging for you to spill the rest of your plea. “I want you.” You swallow hard, trapped by her touch, yet desperate for more. “I want this. Please. Please kiss me.”

In an instant she’s pulled you forward, lips crashing against yours; her hand on your throat is the anchor tying her to you. All other thoughts are crushed under the weight of her messy embrace. There’s just her. Instinct drives your movements, all of the desire that had built up this semester coalescing into a kiss, into the way your hand ends up fisted in her hair, the other sliding beneath her jacket to grasp at her shirt.

Mia’s fingers never tighten around your neck, never put any pressure on your windpipe, yet they still hold power over you. It’s her movement that changes the angle, that deepens the kiss until your lips part for her. You swear you can feel her hunger, the need radiating from her, and yet you have no idea how much she is truly holding back. Every bit of your hunger was matched and exceeded by her.

Your feelings, hidden until now, had gnawed at your heart for half a year. Hers had hounded her for countless loops. The hand on your throat is a warning to herself, arm a barrier to keep her from coming any closer. It’s not enough, her free hand itching to touch and tug, to begin unraveling you. Mia presses the hand to the wall behind you, clenching it into a fist. That might have done the trick… if not for the way you shift a moment later. As soon as your thigh starts to slot between her own, she throws out any sense of caution, giving in to this one chance to be with you.

“So eager for me,” Mia murmurs, having pulled back for just a moment, finally pulling her hand from your neck (you miss it, miss the warmth, miss her guidance). There’s a split second where you think you see love in her eyes- and then your back is flat against the wall, both her hands on your hips, her mouth pressing open kisses along your jaw. A tug encourages you to move your thigh again, letting her seek out that friction she so desperately needs. “So fucking good to me,” she whispers, breath hot against your cheek.

Then she’s practically nipping at your throat, relishing your gasp, only to eagerly soothe the skin with gentle kisses. Something like a growl leaves her as she starts to grind against your thigh, grip on your hips growing tighter. Each moment has the kisses growing more intense again, paired with more soft bites, making it harder and harder to keep yourself from moaning. When her hands start rubbing circles against you, it becomes impossible to stay completely quiet.

Both a blessing and a curse, your sound comes at the same time that Mia’s phone starts to vibrate, signaling the end of your time together. Instantly she’s peeling herself off of you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, muttering a few swears in between shaky breaths. Following her lead, you try to smooth out your clothing and collect yourself. But that’s much easier said than done, neither of you satisfied at leaving things here, both itching to finish what you started.

“You should stay,” Mia starts to say, shrugging off her jacket. Each word sounds like she has to force it out. “After the party ends. I could… I could use the company.” This time the words come easier, accompanied with a crooked grin, and she doesn’t hesitate to drape her jacket over your shoulders, covering up the marks she definitely left all over your throat. More than that, it’s her way of making sure everyone knows that you’re with her tonight.

The door swings open before you have a chance to respond to her offer. For a moment the light feels blinding, and when you reopen your eyes you see that Mia’s already started walking away, ignoring the reactions of other partygoers. You would be disappointed… but this is the first time you’ve seen her without a jacket, and now you find yourself with a new appreciation for her arms, already picturing yourself getting pinned beneath her. Something to look forward to later tonight, you suppose.

[comikadraws]

Spotting AI Art

Okay, so in response to popular demand (one person) here's an example of me recognizing AI art.

First things first. Spotting AI is tricky and arguably easier for artists and anybody who regularly looks at art online. There are no fool-proof methods or rules for spotting AI, only indicators. And if the indicators add up, well, you might be dealing with machine-generated images.

First indicator: Rendering quality

"Rendering style" = The style of the linework, coloring, and shading, basically.

"Rendering quality" = How well the targeted rendering style was achieved. NOT something along the lines of "more complex rendering style = higher rendering quality". A semi-realistic painting and an anime screenshot can both have top-notch rendering quality while one is more difficult to achieve than the other.

Yes, unfortunately, that is an indicator. AI copies professional artists, not amateurs, hence it also copies primarily very aesthetically pleasing or professionally-looking styles. As a rule of thumb, AI art online will, at first glance, look professional rather than amateurish.

In this case, we've got a detailed piece of Sasuke Uchiha with intricate lineart, folds, and creases, and simple coloring. It's a sort of minimalist style but very well executed. In other words, the rendering quality is high and it might be worth taking a closer look.

Second indicator: Rendering style

There are some styles particularly known for getting fed to AI, including Studio Ghibli's as well as a certain brand of semi-realism. Here, neither of which is the case but there's something else I have personally come to associate with AI.

It's unnecessary or nonsensical details. I won't lie, those lines look pretty, but they just don't make sense. It's just random wiggly lines that are neither hatching nor actual folds or creases that don't make much sense in terms of shape or direction.

Third Indicator: Anatomy

Broken, fingers and toes, missing nails. Whatever other crap the AI decides to come up with. This doesn't need much of an explanation.

Also, misdirected folds and creases and objects that are clipping through one another.

All three of these mistakes happen because AI doesn't understand the anatomy of objects or basic logic (ie. objects don't randomly go through clothing).

Special indicator: Character design consistency

This one is very fanart-specific, as it relies on the existence of a well-established character design that has been put through alterations by the AI.

In Sasuke's case, the hilt of his Kusanagi doesn't match, he is wearing chain mail all of a sudden, his right sandal is closed on the top, the fabric around his hips has weird patterns that are not present in the actual design, the tie doesn't match its canon counterpart and the sword sheath is in Sasuke's front.

These are design details that could have been altered intentionally. However, in combination with all the other indicators, it is unlikely.

Fourth indicator: Pattern inconsistency and vagueness

AI, currently, has trouble with producing consistent patterns.

Here, the zipper on his shirt changes patterns, the wrapping on the sword hilt is completely inconsistent and Sasuke's Sharingan has no visible pattern whatsoever, just weird pixel artifacts.

[grislyintentions]

[Hullo! It's been a while since I did a self promo of any sorts but I do want to get out there a little more. So if you're down to interact with a multimuse blog featuring genshin and star rail muses (including OCs), please leave a like/reblog and I'll come check you out! ^^]

[foundfamilywhump]

truly i don't care who thinks it's stupid or boring or "doesn't count" or can't be as intense as what they think of as "real whump" or whatever else, whump with comfort and recovery and caretaker(s) is always going to be my style of whump and i'm gonna have a blast vibing with people who also enjoy that

[anodymalion]

well they seem to be very good friends :)

[highabovethecloudssomewhere]

EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS

I hate doing this, I really wanted to save my commissions for a time in my life after I’d improved the quality of my art to a higher standard but my car is. um. Doing that thing cars do where they cost more than they’re worth. Trying to balance feeding my family and maintaining my ability to work.

Please reach out if you have any questions or if you’d like to see more samples of my work (messy line art + flat color, loose sketches, etc). At the moment I can only accept payments through Venmo and CashApp. Half the price of the commission will be paid up front, with the other half paid upon completion of the piece. I can’t accept NSFW and lack the skillset to draw furry/anthro.

I will draw fandom content and would love to draw your OCs.

If by some chance y’all want to commission a piece of writing instead (or even alongside of), I’d negotiate a price on that as well.

Even if you aren’t able to/don’t want to commission me, thanks for reading this far. I’m sorry to do this but I appreciate your time immensely.

[thedeadthree]

✧ — a wee semi(ish) hiatus announcement!!

today i am having my wisdom teeth removed so for the next couple days or so i may be a bit out of commission while i recover !!!! i will try to catch up on tags/asks when i am able and i have a queue going but i will likely be off the grid for a bit!! mutuals are welcome to ask for my discord !!!!!!