#The White Bird Marker with Black

[jpmorrow-art]

Here's a happy little crow :)

[sunshineface]

Vicious cycle

[heycrystalsmithart]

Raven's Call

ink and marker on paper

www.heycrystalsmith.com

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

dragon is Listening to the Birb

[ajthetiredbitch]

art dump because I haven't posted in literally a year!!! 🤩🤩

[popsaturdaymash]

When I was originally at my retail job back in 2020-2021, I would often work on these series as a way to help me practice my inking skills while I would come up with random doodles from scratch. This was kind of an exercise for me to both come up with original works, draw from a few references, and learn to draw with ink without using a sketch base. It was sort of a period where I would go back to my roots as an artist. Plus, search for ways to keep my mental health balanced and my anxiety in check as I continued on with my day-to-day.

At my register, I would usually even draw a few Doodles for customers or bystanders just for the heck of it. It was a very positive experience to see a lot of people actually watch me draw from time to time or request stuff for me to do for them. It felt vindicating in a way. It was the same way how I came up with my Tom and Jerry sketches and digital art as well.

[katiajewelbox]

Northern Lapwing (Vanellus vanellus) family in a meadow with daisies and buttercups. The Lapwing nest on the ground and their chicks are patterned to blend in with their surroundings. I like drawing birds 🐦. Their diversity, liveliness, and family life make them a delightful subject.

Media: pen and ink, alcohol based markers, soft pastels

[fox-guardian]

[ID: Traditional pencil and marker drawings of Laios and Falin Touden from Dungeon Meshi. Laios is a short-haired blonde white man wearing armor, a tan shirt and pants, and tall boots. Falin is a fat white woman with chin-length blonde hair and she is in her chimera form with her upper body being mostly human but covered in white feathers, and her lower body is that of a red dragon with more white feathers on the chest and large white bird wings. She is not wearing clothes.

The first image is two busts of Laios smiling and facing at a three-quarters angle and facing to the right in profile respectively. The second image is a full-body of him sitting and eating a scaly red monster leg with his free hand behind him.

The third image is two drawings of chimera Falin. The first shows her from her human hips up, her head is tilted up as she looks down, smiling, arms held up dramatically around her head. The second drawing is a full-body in profile showing her standing with one of her front legs lifted and one of her arms held up by her chest. That drawing is also lined in black pen. end ID]

~~~~

the thems <3 laios' armor is slightly less difficult to draw than expected which is epic. and falin <3 falin is fun <3

haven't done traditional in a minute this was fun teehee <3

[ckret2]

On chapter 30 of The Writer Uses Misleading Graphics To Trick You Into Looking At This Fic About Human Bill Being The Shack's Prisoner: Summerween part 2! Bill wheedles Mabel into helping him make a costume. Mabel wheedles Bill into spilling some of his preciously-guarded secret backstory. Ford is kind of in awe.

Also there's like 4.5 drawings in this chapter. They're all very silly drawings.

####

Bill wouldn't tell Mabel what his costume was—"I want to see who can guess it"—but all it needed was a brown bedsheet, a long red wig, cardboard (to be drawn upon), and flip-flop sandals.

The bedsheet was the easiest to acquire. Dipper's barely-worn brown sandals were just slightly too big for Bill but Mabel helped tie them on with yarn. the shack's cardboard supplies were still depleted from making Bill's triangle mask, but they could make do with paper and popsicle sticks. Mabel didn't have a red wig but she did have a blonde wig and red markers. Since Bill was, by his own reporting, terrible at drawing, Mabel offered to do the fancy artwork if Bill did the tedious task of recoloring the wig. He claimed he'd feel like a mortician putting makeup on a car wreck victim, but nevertheless accepted the deal, and they settled in around the living room table to get to work.

"So just a bunch of houses, right?" Mabel asked, starting on the first drawing.

"Ancient Greek-looking houses," Bill said. "So, marble and columns. Don't think too hard about the details—this is a 21st century American costume holiday, not a historical reenactment. You can slap columns on anything and call it 'Greek' and every human in town will buy it."

"Do ancient Greek houses have chimneys?"

"No," Bill said. "But adding one would be funny."

Mabel considered that, weighed up the value of historical accuracy against entertainment value, and decided giving one house a chimney would be funny. She gave the whole house a thick black outline in marker, and pulled out crayons in black, white, and whale blue to quickly add some light shading to the marble. 

Mabel didn't think she'd ever seen Bill focus so hard or so quietly on anything the way he did on coloring that old wig red. He was giving it more attention than he did his own hair: while his golden locks were a tangled, uncombed, soggy mass shoved dismissively over his shoulders, he was dying the cheap wig (and his fingertips) strand by plastic strand with the bright-eyed morbid fascination of a third grader studying a pack of ants as they disassembled a bird's corpse.

This was the longest she'd been around Bill without conversation—usually, you couldn't even walk into a room without him immediately chattering at you like the motion-activated animatronics at the Summerween store. It was hard to think around him. Bill didn't give you room to think.

What did Mabel think about Bill?

He was right, she was still mad about the mall. No—mad wasn't the right word—mad was his word—she was scared. She'd never really stopped being scared of him, if she was honest with herself. But everything he'd done that day, from tricking her into trapping herself to reminding her of almost dying, had just reinforced why she should fear him.

But. She thought he felt bad about it. And she didn't think she'd ever seen him feel bad about anything before.

Maybe that meant her experiment was working. Maybe he was changing. Yeah, he was still scary—but he was Bill Cipher, he had a lot of scariness to work through. He was moving in the right direction, and she wanted to encourage that.

He hadn't apologized for the mall; but, since he'd tried to make up for it at the time, and that was a sort of apologetic action, Mabel decided she could tentatively forgive him for that day—provided he continued to improve. Put him on forgiveness probation. And that meant they were on friendly speaking terms again.

Which was good, because the quiet was starting to get uncomfortable. She surveyed her art for something they could talk about.

After a couple of as-historically-accurate-as-she-could-imagine houses, Mabel had started varying up the designs by redesigning houses she could remember off the top of her head with columns and white marble. She'd made a stately marble Mystery Shack, and a columned-covered doppelgänger of the house with the terraced yard across the street at home, and then she'd decided to make a Greek-ish version of her own home. "Hey Bill. Have you ever seen my house?"

"In person? No. But it came up from time to time in you kids' dreams, so whether I've seen it depends on how accurate you think your dreams are," he said. "It has less plants and more windows in your brother's dreams than in yours."

Mildly disturbing answer, but not disturbing in the direction she'd expected. "What! You mean you haven't haunted our neighborhood or anything? I don't believe it."

"Do you think I spend all my time stalking random humans? Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, seeing it in dreams isn't good enough!" Mabel pulled over a blank paper. It was hours until trick-or-treaters showed up, they had a little time to waste. "I'll draw it!"

"Wow, really?" Bill looked up from his wig. "You're not worried about letting the big bad triangle see your house?"

"Come on! You already know where I live, right?"

Bill immediately rattled off, "1337 Fairview Drive, Piedmont, California, on the northeast side of the street where it's less hilly."

"Exactly—you creep. So who cares if you know what it looks like, too?"

A square, sky blue house with two stories and a triangular roof; a big living room window on the left, a covered door on the right, three windows on the second floor, and a chimney. Mabel had drawn her home plenty of times—but doing it for a friend (?) was different from doing it for a teacher or a librarian, and she put extra effort into the rose bushes under the living room window. She added her and Dipper's smiling faces in the upstairs windows and Waddles's face downstairs in the living room.

"Waddles sleeps in the kitchen, but he basically owns half the yard to wallow in. This is my room, and here's Dipper's—I get three windows, but Dipper has the biggest window and a bigger room, so it's fair, no matter what he says—"

"Oh, you two have separate rooms now?" Bill was leaning halfway around the table and craning his neck to see the image right side up.

"Uh, yeah? Since we were ten?"

Loftily, Bill said, "I don't know how you'd expect me to know that. You both still dream about sharing a room."

Mabel paused and tried to remember how often she dreamed about Dipper in his new room. Sometimes she woke and was still disoriented to find her bed in the middle of the room instead of against one wall with Dipper's on the other side. "Huh."

She added a few more details—the front steps, the gate, the shingles. (Bill watched nervously as she pulled out the gray crayon to color the driveway—but she didn't notice how it had been tampered with.) She talked about her home, and in turn Bill told her weird things, like that Dipper often dreamed of monsters coming out of the fridge. When she finished, she autographed her name with a star on the "i" in Pines, offered it over grandly, and said, "Here, you can keep this!"

Bill accepted it without the customary effusive gratitude with which one ought to accept a generously-gifted original artwork from a 13-year-old prodigy. "What am I gonna do with it?"

"That's your problem!"

"Fair enough!" He checked his leggings for pockets and, when he didn't find any, set the page on the table by his elbow. 

Offering accepted. As Bill resumed coloring his wig, Mabel picked up another piece of paper and got to work on the next columned house. "What does your house look like?"

Bill stopped dead, looked straight at her, and said, "My what?"

What was weird about the question? "Your house! Or whatever you lived in before you came here. You came from somewhere before you tried to invade Earth, right? You didn't just pop out of somebody's dream."

Bill laughed. "Yeah I did!"

"Bill."

"4500 years ago the construction workers of Egypt had a shared nightmare about the immense tombs they'd spent the last century building—"

"Biiiill."

"—and when they awoke they found the combined psychic energy of their terror had spawned a sleep paralysis demon more powerful than Ra! So then I ate their souls—"

"Seriously, Bill."

"I'm being so serious right now."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine! I get it. You're embarrassed." She shook her head and returned to coloring.

She felt the combined spiritual energy of hundreds of imaginary Egyptian construction workers beating down on her face from Bill's eye. Like a laser. "'Embarrassed'?"

"Because you don't have a house," Mabel said. "I think it's okay, you don't need to be embarrassed! I don't think you're a loser or anything. It's just kind of sad—"

Bill snatched up a blank piece of paper. "You want a house? Fine! I'll show you a house." He grabbed up an orange crayon, muttering, "It'll put your stupid overpriced shed in California to shame— Where's the ruler—?" Mabel tried not to grin.

For several minutes, he was perfectly silent. Mabel glanced over to see him coloring with three crayons at once, only for him to shove a hand in her face and snap, "No peeking."

Mabel got through two more drawings before Bill slapped down his paper over Mabel's. "There! How about that?!"

She looked at the drawing, which Bill had helpfully labeled "Party Central!" in red crayon. A great stone pyramid so dark brown it was nearly black, with bricks outlined in brilliant gold and molten orange and fiery red, and a sharp multicolored X hovering above it—

Mabel gave Bill a flat look. "This isn't your house, this is your Torture Temple."

"The what? Hey, is that really what people are calling it?! It's not the Torture Temple, it's the Fearamid!"

Despite herself, Mabel burst out laughing. "You named it the 'Fearamid'?!"

"It's a pyramid and humans fear it! It's genius. Portmanteaus make great names."

"What's a portmanteau."

"It's a word made from the unholy Frankensteinian fusion of two other words. Like getting 'electrocute' from 'electricity' and 'execute'!"

"Or 'romcom'?"

"Yeah, or that."

Mabel considered the drawing. "If you want to scare less people, you could call this your Bill-ding."

"HA! Oh, I'm saving that."

"Anyway, this isn't where you live," Mabel said. "You were there for like a week tops!"

"Yeah, before your great-uncle killed me. I'd still be living there if it weren't for you jerks." He stuck out his tongue.

"Come on, Bill. I showed you my house. Draw where you grew up or something!"

"What's wrong with the Fearamid?"

Mabel crossed her arms. "Why don't you want me to see your real house?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Bill opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Eh, you know what? Why not. If you're gonna be so ridiculous about such a silly thing." He pulled over another piece of paper. "But if I don't have enough time to finish coloring this wig, you have to help me."

"Fiiine." She returned to her own drawings as Bill got back to work.

After a long silence—longer than he'd taken to draw and color the Fearamid—he said, "Okay, done. Here." And he pushed over the paper with one dismissive finger.

She eagerly accepted the drawing—and frowned. There was nothing on the page except for a straight flat black line, interrupted by three line segments of bright blue and a cluster of red and green dashes. "What is this?"

"Where I grew up," Bill said, innocently, already back to coloring the wig. Mabel could see his mischievous smirk. "As seen from the front. Just like your drawing of your house. So we're even now."

Mabel's brows furrowed as she stared at the page in confusion. "What...?"

"You do know I'm from the second dimension, right? A universe that's flat like a piece of paper. I figured Sixer would've told you all about it by now." Bill picked up the drawing and held it between his and Mabel's faces, so that, viewed from the edge, all Mabel could see of the paper was a thin flat line. "What do you think the second dimension looks like to somebody in the second dimension?"

Mabel took the paper back, looked at the underwhelming flat line representing the front of Bill's house, and said, "I hate you." 

"We had the prettiest roses in the park," Bill said, pointing at the red dashes. "Crayon really doesn't do them justice."

"Shut uppp."

Bill laughed at her; but then, to her surprise, he said, "Okay, all right, I guess a big fancy 3D creature like you can't understand the nuances of two-dimensional sight. So, here." He flipped over the page. "Top down view."

The back of the page had what looked like a floorplan. A narrow room on the left, a large L-shaped room, a tiny room nestled into the L's top right corner, and a medium room on the right. Little shapes filled the rooms—furniture of some kind?—but she didn't see anything immediately recognizable like a top-down bed or table and chairs. Green and red spirals dangled off the bottom of the floorplan.

"I'm no Edward Bishop Bishop, but it gets the idea across," Bill said.

She studied all the strange little figures in fascination, looking for anything familiar. She pointed at a few shallow bowls filled with blue sticking out of the wall between the L-shaped room and the tiny room. "Are these sinks?"

"Hey, you're pretty sharp. Sinks and the tub." 

"So the little room's the bathroom."

"Right again." Bill pointed out the rooms on the floor plan. "Master bed's on the right, kitchen and living room in the middle—and you found the bathroom—and second bed's on the left. That was my room! The one with a million books," he pointed at a wall with countless tiny multicolored lines coming off of it. "I was a big reader as a kid. I've always been an intellectual."

"Who was in the other bedroom?"

"I never really went in there, who cares." Bill made a dismissive gesture. "I think there were some desks and stuff in there too, but I didn't bother to draw them since I never used them." He picked up a yellow and a black crayon and added on to the drawing, dexterously turning the crayons in his hand to switch between colors without setting either one down. "I spent most of my time in my room." He'd drawn a little yellow triangle with an eye. He picked up a red crayon to point an arrow at the triangle and label it "Me!" "I didn't even have to leave the room to see the TV. The perks of psychic powers!"

Mabel wondered which of the weird shapes was the TV; but before she could come to a decision, she was distracted by the scale of Bill drawn in his room. Maybe he'd just drawn himself big, but he seemed cramped in that narrow space. And he'd hardly have room to turn around in the bathroom without his corner smacking something. "It looks pretty small. Is that normal on your home world?"

"Ah, I rarely spent time at home—it was just a place to sleep between speaking engagements," Bill said. "I was always on tour. Living the life of the rich and famous! Hotels, jet planes, and tour buses!"

Mabel shot him an irritated look. "You said this is where you grew up."

"This is where I grew up! I got an early start making my fortune. I was already famous by the time I was, uh..." he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Developmentally, I think I would've been about equivalent to your age. Maybe a bit younger."

How much of all this was true? It didn't feel like a lie—and she couldn't see how he'd benefit from lying about any of it, except maybe claiming to be famous. So it probably had to be true. He'd actually made her a drawing of his house. Even after he'd complained about being so bad at art. She beamed at him. "Thanks, Bill. Your weird alien house is neat! I like the squiggly spiral flowers! Are they actually roses?"

"They were the flower that everyone mentions in poetry and that you have to bring home when your wife is mad, so, same basic function as roses," Bill said. "Fun fact, they grow in spirals so that they're pretty on the outside, but—"

####

"—but have more surface area to absorb sunlight on the inside," Mabel said, pointing at the flowers. "Alien biology! And the orange things are couches and the colorful box in front of them is his TV, and Bill says he could watch TV through the wall but he never really liked TV, he preferred live performances—maybe we should take him to a musical! And the little sideways cushions on the walls are their beds because gravity goes to the left because their house faces east—I have no idea why!—so, I guess that's their 'floor'? But if that's the 'floor,' Bill didn't explain why all his books were on the 'ceiling' without them falling off, and..." Mabel trailed off, giving Ford a concerned look. "Grunkle Ford? Are you okay?"

He was gaping at the drawing. "Wh—? Yes. Sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head in amazement. "I never even got that slippery eel to admit he has a calendar system, and you got the blueprints to his childhood home?"

Dipper said, "Yeah, this is amazing. How did you get this out of him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything special," Mabel said casually. "Just drew our house and then suggested he was too scared to let me see his."

Dipper grimaced. "You showed him our house?"

"Don't worry about it! He already knows where we live."

"Of course," Ford said, taking a quick note in his journal. "Exploiting his ego. He's very proud; undermine that pride and he'll feel compelled to defend his honor." Ford had started goading Bill into giving away more than he meant to the same way. He wished he'd started doing it far earlier; but he'd spent so many years foolishly assuming Bill's pride was objective and justified that he sometimes forgot what an egomaniac Bill really was.

As Mabel had spoken, Ford had filled several pages with bullet-pointed half thoughts: dodges questions about the master bed—his parents' room?; no bed or bedroom for a sibling, he seems like an only child; "speaking engagements" is probably a euphemism, what was he doing to become a child celebrity; were his books his only childhood possessions or just the only thing he valued enough to draw; did he gain his "psychic powers" while amassing the power he needed to "liberate"/destroy his dimension? "Can I borrow this drawing to make a photocopy?"

"Sure! Don't forget the line on the back," Mabel said. "And you can copy the Fearamid, too! Did you know he named it the 'Fearamid'?"

"Oh yeah, I heard him call it that," Dipper said. "I think I recorded it in Journal 3?"

"I should've read that before we threw out all of Grunkle Ford's Bill stuff," Mabel sighed. She slid over the Fearamid drawing to Ford. "Bwop! He drew it tilting all weird to the left? He wasn't kidding when he said he's bad at drawing."

Ford studied the drawing and frowned. He lay his pen on the drawing to use like a makeshift ruler. "It's not 'skewed'—he drew the front face as a perfect equilateral triangle, and then extended a side on the right to turn it into a pyramid. It's poor perspective—there's no point of view from which one side would look like a perfect equilateral triangle and you could see another side, but..." He trailed off again as he made a note to himself about what this might mean about Bill's ability to perceive the third dimension and his artistic sensibilities.

"So he draws like Picasso!" Mabel concluded. "Oh! Bill mentioned a name when he gave me his house, he said he wasn't like Edward Bishop Bishop—and I remembered it because it sounds funny. Bishop-Bishop. Maybe he's another artist Bill likes? Or somebody who makes blueprints?"

"I'm sure I've heard that name. I think he was a mathematician?" Ford frowned. "I can't recall, though." He wrote down another note: Edward Bishop Bishop – mathematician/artist? Something to look up later.

Dipper glanced back and forth between Ford and Mabel as they talked, feeling his stomach sink at how excited they were and how easily they got along. First the mysterious disappearing crystal shop in Portland, now Mabel made this huge discovery about the guy Ford had spent years trying to learn about... Dipper swallowed hard and tried to tell himself he shouldn't feel jealous after he'd gotten Ford to himself for basically the past year. "I can't believe you found out all this."

Mabel immediately looked at him. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Dipper winced. He'd realized a moment too late how he must have sounded. Quickly, he said, "I mean, it's great that you did! Finding out more information about him is great. But, like... investigating the paranormal is my thing. It's what I spent all last summer doing, and it's my dream job, and... and now, the biggest paranormal mystery in human history is in our house, and you're the one getting all the info out of him?"

"Well, yeah," Mabel said. "I'm our official Bill spy, remember? I'm the one who made friends with him."

"I know, I know." He shrugged jerkily. "I'm just... kind of disappointed that I'm not prying eons-old secrets out of an alien demon. You know?"

Ford had paused in his writing to listen to Dipper thoughtfully. "I understand. When you're exceptional at something, it can be... difficult to share the limelight," he said. "Not because you don't think anyone else deserves it. You just don't know if you'll ever get it back."

Dipper's face heated up—he didn't want Ford to think he was bad at sharing, of all things—but he mumbled, "Yeah, I guess." Ford patted his shoulder understandingly. 

"Aww," Mabel said. "Didn't you say that if we're running an experiment on being nice to Bill, you want to be in the control group?" She punched his arm. "Welcome to the control, bro!"

"Ow!" Dipper rubbed his arm and laughed weakly. "Yeah, okay, you're right. This is what I get."

Mabel said, "You should try talking to Bill! Maybe he'll tell you stuff too. He's really easy to talk to as long as you don't mind him sometimes saying creepy nightmare things."

"And as long as you're prepared for his mental tricks," Ford said.

"Yeah! Grunkle Ford's got a whole class for that," Mabel said. "He'll teach you about the BITE model! It's how cults sink their teeth into you!"

Dipper chuckled. "Sure. Maybe I will. We're gonna be at home handing out candy for a few hours, maybe I'll find an opportunity to interrogate him."

"You're not going trick-or-treating?" Ford asked.

"No," Mabel said, with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment.

Dipper elbowed her for her theatrics; they'd already agreed on what they'd do tonight. "We've got plans with friends. But we do get to wear matching costumes again."

"Creepy ghost children!"

"Ah," Ford said. "That explains your..." He gestured at them. They were wearing a suit and a dress, old-fashioned and gray, with tattered hems and dusty black dress shoes.

"Barty helped us put the outfits together," Dipper said.

"We still need to do our makeup," Mabel said. "What about you, Grunkle Ford? What are you doing for Summerween?"

"Ah." He glanced toward the ceiling ruefully, as though he could see The Enemy in the shack through the many layers of dirt above. Summerween had been one of the things he'd missed most about Gravity Falls; even during his years as a reclusive scientist in the woods, he'd usually taken off Summerween and Halloween to hand out candy to the children bold enough to visit his house.

But Bill's eagerness to participate had sucked the fun out of the day. The thought of celebrating Summerween in the same house as Bill felt too much like celebrating with him. "Nothing, I suppose. I was planning to stay down here." He gestured at his desk. "Continue my research."

"What are you working on right now?" Dipper asked.

Ford quickly said, "Nothing. Just—the same research," and was immediately hit with a pang of guilt. Remember what happened last summer when you tried to keep secrets about Bill out of embarrassment? Reluctantly, he said, "I've... split some research duties with Fiddleford. While I'm waiting to hear back from him, I'm looking into—some magical knowledge Bill revealed. To determine how much of it's true."

Dipper looked puzzled. "Revealed when?"

Mabel slammed her hands on Ford's desk. "Grunkle Ford, you can take a break from gathering intel on the enemy for one day! It's Summerween! Promise me you'll do something to celebrate before the day's over."

Ford let out a huff, but smiled. He wanted to do something. Surely he could come up with something that would let him avoid Bill? "All right, I promise. I won't invoke the Trickster's wrath tonight. Could you leave your costume makeup in the bathroom when you're finished? I'll find something to do with it."

"Perfect!" Mabel hugged him; then grabbed Dipper's hand. "C'mon, let's finish getting dressed. The trick-or-treaters will be here any minute!"

"Okay, okay." Dipper waved at Ford as Mabel dragged him to the elevator.

When they were gone, Ford turned back to the papers Mabel had given him. Bill's childhood home... Assuming he wasn't lying, at least. But an entire blueprint seemed like a complicated spur-of-the-moment fabrication even for him. If Bill was lying, it was a lie close to the truth.

It was strange to imagine Bill as a child with a bedroom full of books. Strange to imagine Bill as a child at all. What did a young triangle look like? He couldn't imagine anything different from how Bill always looked.

The floorplan did look small. Smaller even than the apartment over the pawn shop had been. Ford tried to remember what the homes he'd seen in Exwhylia had looked like...

He raised his head as something the kids had said registered. "Barty? Who's Barty?"

####

While Mabel was downstairs, Bill inspected her box of crayons.

The wrapper around the gray crayon was coming loose.

He took the glue stick they'd been using to reinforce the paper houses with popsicle sticks and carefully stuck the wrapper back on.

The house was too quiet without anyone around to talk to. He hated the quiet.

From the corner of the living room behind the table, when Bill leaned on the wall, shut his eyes, and listened closely, he could faintly hear the hidden elevator. He headed upstairs to stow the drawing of Mabel's house somewhere safe, and then went to the downstairs bathroom to finish dressing for Summerween.

####

(Y'all I worked hard on those fake crayon drawings. Anyway I know we're all collectively going insane today over the book news but if you took time out of your day to read this, I'd love to hear what y'all think!)

[afroflowerr]

I’ve been reading about the bird flu virus (H5N1) that’s progressing, and this particular quote from a December 2024 article stood out to me:

“If you want to keep this from becoming a human pandemic, you focus on protecting farmworkers,—”

Article link: Scientific American

UnMasked Thoughts: 8 - Medium, face masks and paint markers.

• January 2025, Ave •

Image description in keep reading and alt text

Image description of a black KN95 against an off-white background with words written in white paint marker that reads: “Don’t ignore the bird flu like you did Covid.” The artist social media handle @afroflowerr is at the bottom of the mask. END ID

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Paul McCartney Discography Album Cover Ranking

Because I Feel Like It!

25. What was the vision here. I'm genuinely baffled. That pink feels so out of place. Why am I thinking of that one Narnia book.

24. C'mon, man.

23. Denny literally looks like he's about to sneeze. Linda's slaying tho. Why is the contrast so high. You can't even tell they actually took these pics on location.

22. It should probably be lower than London Town but I'm too much of a sucker for red/blue contrasts. It emphasizes his asymmetry way too much.

21. It's kind of a neat picture but it doesn't match the album At All. (Linda I Love Youuuuuuu)

20. The squished artist name and feet upset me. Nice picture though.

19. Striking. I really love the font. The reflection feels like too much.

18. Inoffensive. The colours are lovely.

17. Not super ambitious but a well executed concept.

16. Very cute and cool composition!!!

15. Neat concept. I prefer the cooler tones of the deluxe edition.

14. Love the copper here and the delicate touches of purple.

13. Integrating the album title into the actual subject is always inspired. I wish the tracklist could be found on it too though!!

12. Again: big red/blue contrast fan here. I just find myself wishing the picture (which is good!) was better integrated into the background somehow. Really like the font and the tetris-like blocks though, it feels very in character with the production.

11. Beautiful composition. Just lovely, possibly the most underrated one.

10. Love the handwritten title, the little pie detail, the colour palette, the fact the picture is slightly blurred. this is like if the Driving Rain cover was thought-through.

9. Unapologetically quirky like the album itself. I go back and forth on the blue frame but the portrait itself is so goddamned inspired I have to give it a spot in the top ten.

8. Gorgeous picture. The birds in motion are amazing. I wish Paul's haircut was better but what can you do.

7. This is amazing to me. This cover TELLS a story (I know it's basically a screengrab from some TV special lol). In connection with the title it makes me think "the egg" is earth itself. The way the lighting creates a natural frame. It's just so cool and unique.

6. I cannot decide if the concept of Mike McCartney happening to see his brother through the kitchen curtains and snapping a picture of it or having a specific vision for this image and getting Paul to pose for him is more impressive. This is the stuff of legends. He was fucking 18 or something. Though a part of me wonders if it really works as an album cover. I'd need to look at a physical copy more closely.

5. Back at it again with the blue/red. It works so well with the album's mood as a whole and it's a lovely picture to boot.

4. I just love getting lost in all the details of this one. There's so much to look at without the whole thing feeling over-crowded or overwhelming. I can see the brushstrokes and I love that.

3. The funky af font matched with the super super simple motif. Nothing to add. Having the title vertical and horizontal was inspired.

2. Iconic. Christopher Lee is literally on it.

Sorrrrry but the way it combines black and white with colour and it's VISIBLY homedrawn marker and the yellow is so iconic. This shit goes crazy, I don't tire looking at it.

[stickynotebirds]

Do you only use color pencils?

I'm so glad you asked me this anon because now I can ramble about my art supplies! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

So when I started this challenge I thought it would be fun to only work with cheap office supplies (yes, I consider dollar store colored pencils an office supply). You see, limiting your art supplies is fun because it forces you to be creative and experiment with different looks. And the texture of colored pencils works really well to imitate the texture of feathers.

However! Using only cheap colored pencils gets kind of boring if you have to do a challenge for an entire year. So after around 50 birds I started slowly adding to my arsenal:

Higher quality colored pencils

Some birds have bright vibrant colors which are impossible to achieve with bad colored pencils. Which is why I added some slightly better quality pencils to the mix.

I still don't have a good green pencil which is why it took me so long to draw a kakapo and why I still haven't drawn a kea...

Highlighters in different colors

You might not think that highlights are a very useful art supply but they have been very useful in this challenge for two reasons: 1) They are great for creating the shiny iridescent quality of some feathers (see my drawings of hummingbirds for examples) 2) how the f do you show the difference between yellow and white when working on yellow paper?? Yellow highlighter!

Black fineliners

The texture of pencils does not work well if you want to draw something that's fully black. This is especially important to me because my favorite birds, coots, are black.

Fineliners are the markers I have found that gives me the least texture for the ideal slick black bird look.

White Posca pen

For making white details. I use it most often for making eyes and feathers look shiny but sometimes also for larger details.

So there you have it! The semi-complete list of art supplies I use! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Since I only have around 50 birds left to draw I probably won't be adding anything new before the challenge is over (unless I find a good green pencil lol)

[sunshineface]

[zagreuses-art]

Some watercolor marker TAZ bookmarks I made a long while ago. I realized I never posted them on here.

[ID: first image, six bookmarks featuring illustrations of the six TAZ balance arcs: here there be gerblins, murder on the Rockport limited, petals to the metal, crystal kingdom, eleventh hour, and the suffering game. The following images are closeups of the bookmarks. Second image, horizontal, showing taako from the back, jumping away from the back of the train and holding a box containing a glowing gold monocle. Third image, a shadowy hand reaching for the Phoenix gauntlet , which is wreathed in flames. Fourth image, Sloane as the raven shrouded in a column of vines and a storm, wearing the Gaia sash, looking up at her is Hurley in her Ram outfit surrounded by pink flowers . The fifth image, a robot is hanging suspended in a pink crystal, it has the transmutation stone in its hands, behind it is a portal to the astral plane full of ghostly silhouettes and glowing orbs. The sixth image shows Roswell the elemental (a suit of armour filled with mud with a red bird on their shoulder) underneath an arch that says refuge, above the arch the shoulders and arms of June are visible, holding the glowing and floating temporal chalice. The seventh image shows the black and white big top tent of the game, a crisscrossed colorful background, the arms of Edward and Lydia crossing over each other to cup around the Animus Bell, behind their hands is a red robe with glowing eyes. End ID]

[viktorpartner]

CANARIES, NIGHT SHIFT AND THE MAGNUS PROTOCOL (tma/tmagp/arg spoilers)

Along with everyone else in the fandom, I'm also going FERAL after these new ep so excuse this RANT (this is my way of coping with the brain worms, enjoy ;).

Statement begins.

So what's special about the RedCanary story?

Well, apart from it being a direct reference to the original Magnus Institute (at least the one in this new universe), it's also incredibly fascinating as a narrative tool.

For those who are unaware of their history, miners used to employ canaries in cages while they worked as safety systems. The bird's complexion made them specially sensible to gas leaks which killed them instantly. When a canary stoped singing in the middle of the shift, the workers knew that toxic gas was leaking and had enough time to get out of the mines alive before it got to them.

Now why is that relavant to us? Well, the theme of canaries in cages inside mines could be easily applied to the og tma characters. All of them were contained in cages (that is the Magnus Institute) and placed close enough to danger (in their case the paranormal) that only they were aware of its existence while the rest of humanity remained ignorant. That is until the events of the apocalypse when the gas metaphorically leaks everywhere and all humanity is doomed.

However, this proximity to the fears ALWAYS results in the death of the canaries that stayed inside the mines (no i will never get over my blorbos being killed). Everyone involved with the institution dies EXCEPT from Melanie, Georgie and Basira. That is, the only three canaries that actively escaped their cages before the toxic gas got to them.

Therefore, the use of this metaphor at the start of the ep (especially from none other than the voice of Jon Sims, the character who has walked down the path of learning about the entities) is a warning to Sam against investigating the paranormal.

The statement is encountered by Sam because he, above all other characters, is the one who is most likely to end up like Jon and the others. The species of Red Canaries is human breed, therefore Sam being a result of experimentation within The Magnus Institute means he was RAISED to be a canary. Thus, there is an inherent irony on the warning, for it is what PUSHES him to develop an interest on the statements and leads him closer to his tragic destiny.

Another proof that links canaries and the workers at O.I.A.R. is the nature of their habitat. I haven't seen a lot of people talking about it, but there are multiple references in the first and second ep of them working the nightshift. Now, why would a filing job be carried out exclusively at night? (THERE ARE SO MANY REFERENCES TO IT BEING A NIGHTSHIFT I AM NOT KIDDING)

This one is specially interesting because it's the first thing we hear in the podcast. Also Teddy metaphorically being the canary that leaves the mines and the darkness to escape into the outside world and the sun.

Multiple references to it being just the FIRST night of an eternity of nights. (cosmic horror much?)

In any case, there is a parallel between darkness of night and the darkness inside the mines. (or even the entity of the dark, one of the oldest alongside the hunt and the end). I see what you're doing Jonny Sims....

SO YEAH IN CONCLUSION

canaries = characters close to danger (AWARE OF THE ENTITIES)

the miners = the rest of humanity (UNAWARE OF THE ENTITIES)

cages = The Magnus institute/O.I.A.R (TRAPS the canaries)

the fears = toxic gas (HARMS the canaries and miners)

darkness in the mines = the night shift

Statement ends.

*stands in front of a white board with red string linking everything, and the dark scribbled in black marker in the center* I HOPED YOU ENJOYED THIS RANT *tries to fix my disheveled hair that i messed up during the presentation* I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT TMA AND TMAGP Please feel free to discuss in the comments, I NEED THEORIES, I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS WITH SOMEONE!!!

[britt-kageryuu]

MandarinPaints 🐢🧡-

So I was looking back at those art dice someone gifted me.

I was a bit confused, but then it kinda made sense.

Let me list this off.

Dice 1: Medium = Charcoal - Markers/Ink - Watercolor - Acrylic Paint - Pastels - Graphite/Pencils

Dice 2: Style = Surreal/Fantasy - Abstract - Modern - Realism - Pop Art - Impressionist

Dice 3: Setting = Cityscape - Seascape - Underwater - Landscape - Still Life/Portrait - Indoors

Dice 4: Color = Red - Yellow/Orange - Green - Purple - Blue - Black/White

Dice 5: Texture = Blurred - Hard/Rough - Detailed - Soft/Smooth - Zoom Out - Zoom In

Dice 6: Mood = Joy - Sorrow - Calm - Humor - Love - Anger

Dice 7: Subject 1 = Transportation - Sports/Games - Garbage - Food & Drink - Man Made Object - Building

Dice 8: Subject 2 = Mountains - Insect - Plants/Trees - Something Old - Flowers - Seashells

Dice 9: Subject 3 = Human Child - Bird - Human Adult - Mammal - Reptile - Fish

You roll one of the subject dice with all of dice 1 - 6, or pick just a couple. Then Brainstorm. Then create.

But there's also a few other suggestions in a small leaflet in the container.

It's essentially a small scale art prompt generator.

XX Notes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MandarinPaints 🐢🧡-

I'm just going to try this:

Chaos All The Dice!!!!

Have fun!!!

XXX Notes

-------------------

Masterpost

I keep wanting to make a side blog with is just posting these, but then I feel like it would get a bit boring, or feel like a weird obligation. So I won't, maybe I will just put up an occasional Mikey Art Dice Social Media Post, but that's about it.

It took me 15 hours to realize I forgot to tag this post!! 😑