#bright orange walls

[ecording]

3/4 Bath Los Angeles

Mid-sized eclectic 3/4 white tile and ceramic tile dark wood floor alcove shower photo with a two-piece toilet, orange walls and a pedestal sink

[daemoans]

3/4 Bath Los Angeles

Mid-sized eclectic 3/4 white tile and ceramic tile dark wood floor alcove shower photo with a two-piece toilet, orange walls and a pedestal sink

[bethanycantdraw]

3/4 Bath Los Angeles

Mid-sized eclectic 3/4 white tile and ceramic tile dark wood floor alcove shower photo with a two-piece toilet, orange walls and a pedestal sink

[kolorkrazedolly]

3/4 Bath Los Angeles

Mid-sized eclectic 3/4 white tile and ceramic tile dark wood floor alcove shower photo with a two-piece toilet, orange walls and a pedestal sink

[theycallmebk]

3/4 Bath Los Angeles

Mid-sized eclectic 3/4 white tile and ceramic tile dark wood floor alcove shower photo with a two-piece toilet, orange walls and a pedestal sink

[unteriors-in-house-flipper-2]

how do you get the angle & fov so close to the original!! is it just trial & error or do you superimpose the photo atop the game somehow

recently ive been tracing the outlines of the rooms in Clip Studio Paint, and then capturing both CSP and the game in OBS and changing the blending mode for CSP to multiply!

i use CSP's perspective ruler tool to find the horizon in the reference picture and then compare it with any doors in the image (theyre very consistently 2m tall) to find the height at which the photo was taken, and then make a little platform in the game so the pov is at the same height

i then trial and error the approximate position by putting down square tiles and lining it up with the floor in the picture. i'll then build up the walls (theyre usually around 2.5m tall, so i just make them 13 blocks/2.5m tall and use the resizable cube to get the ceiling to the right height). then i do even more trial and error to find the FOV, focusing on matching the angle of vertical lines near the sides of the screen.

i use a kitchen cabinet inner corner piece to "save" my position, i'll back into it to get to the exact same spot every single time. i'll also place a small item (usually a clothing hook) on the wall on the spot my cursor needs to be so i can always face the right way!

often the images have to be rotated very slightly for the horizon to be perfectly horizontal. i'll always note down by how many degrees, and when i'm cropping the final screenshot to the correct aspect ratio i'll also rotate it to match :)

[maximalismdaybyday]

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[chaika-jpeg-shitpost]

Studio Kafka has paid so much attention to the manga and its characters... Sure, s2 doesn't have some mind-blowing ultra clean hyper realistic animation, but there are SO many meaningful little details here and there in almost every scene, like the sound of footsteps that shows the mood of characters, the background humming and echo in the college, Chise's voice gaining a deeper tone as she grows up, lines that weren't in the manga but make perfect sense in the anime, the peace and quiet during moments when you'd expect music, the timing of characters' interactions and the timing of jokes... And most importantly, the studio managed to cut and alter the scenario without actually changing it... It takes great creativity and care for the work to make a good adaptation without following the source material to the letter! respectfully looking at my beloved sxf Honestly there were so many excellent decisions made during the adaptation that I don't mind the bad cgi and fight scenes and some other faults this season has

I want to note down every specific moment I'm talking about and put it in one post, but I've just watched the new episode and desperately needed to share this thought at least in this unpolished form 😵‍💫 They portrayed little Veronica so well... I even dare say better than in the manga

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

every time u reblog those paintings of coloured squares and rectangles I get so happy

“yay yippee” <- me

omg i’m SO glad u like them i love rothkos sm they make me so happy i’m so glad you like them too!!!

[chesedelhim]

Thinking About Shrimp Tank Thursday

[ayyponine]

you can't take a picture of this - it's already gone.

one year since i moved out of my mom's house to live on my own. all this clutter and stuff came to the apartment w me but still, i am unable to really call it home. before i even lived there we lived in a different house which i was then longing to return to post-divorce so i know change is inevitable and it's all just part of how life goes but still it's like. will home ever stop feeling like a place and time you only keep growing more distant from every day. idk

[reservoirblogs]

sometimes im flipping between my blogs and get fucking blinded by how orange this one is

[footballandfiasco]

i was tagged by @gxtzeizm, thank you!!

how it works: post your colour palette based on your sun, moon, rising & venus sign! you find the colours here!

i tag whoever wants to do it, i know many don't even know their venus sign.

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x medic reader, where you might as well be the sun to them)

The phrase started as a whisper.

It drifted through the base like smoke curling around corners, impossible to pin down but impossible to ignore.

“Here comes the sun.”

It bounced off walls, passing lips in hushed tones, slipping into conversations as a half-joke, half-omen. At first, the 141 didn’t pay it much attention. Soldiers had their quirks, their superstitions- rituals to keep them sane when missions dragged too long and they smelled more blood than earth. But this one stuck.

Price furrowed his brow the first time he heard it. Ghost only tilted his head slightly, filing it away. Gaz grimaced and muttered something about troops getting weird ideas. Soap, though- he took notice.

He’d caught it more than once before a mission, said like a prayer or maybe a warning. He’d asked around, but answers were vague. “You’ll know when you see it.” That’s all they’d tell him. It irritated him to no end.

Then the mission happened.

It was supposed to be a clean extraction. A quick in-and-out, but things went sideways fast. Soap had been covering the team’s six when the ambush hit. A sharp crack split the air, followed by the searing pain in his side. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking into the dirt, a familiar, burning ache travelling through his body.

“Soap’s hit!” Gaz’s voice barked through comms, panic threading through the static.

“Pull him out!” Price ordered.

But the line fizzled and died. Soap’s world narrowed- gunfire, shouts, and the taste of copper in his mouth. He couldn’t hear the others anymore. The ground felt colder than it should have. He pressed his hand against the wound, but it was bad. Really bad.

This is it, he thought. This is where I die.

The edges of his vision blurred. He barely noticed the figure sprinting toward him until a flash of bright red and orange, a blazing fire, pierced through the smoke and haze.

Like the sun.

You hit the ground beside him, all motion and precision, your gear unlike anything he’d ever seen. Bright red and orange covered your tactical vest and helmet- colors that didn’t belong in a war zone. Colors that should’ve made you a target, a dead woman walking.

But instead, you looked like salvation.

“Stay with me, Sargeant.” You said, voice sharp and steady. You weren’t panicked- not even a little. It was comforting.

Soap stared, wide-eyed, as your hands worked quickly to stop the bleeding. He should’ve been paying attention to the pain, to the gunfire, to anything else- but he couldn’t stop looking at you.

“What the hell are ya wearing?” he rasped, because that was apparently the only thought his brain could form.

You didn’t look up. “Bright colors make it easier to spot me. Medics don’t have the luxury of hiding- we have to be seen when it counts.”

“It’s bloody ridiculous.” he muttered- and then sucked in a sharp breath as you tightened the bandage.

“Maybe,” you said, finally glancing at him. “But it got me here, didn’t it?”

Soap’s heart stumbled. Your eyes were sharp, focused- but there was something else there too, something warm. Something steady.

Here comes the sun.

It hit him all at once. That’s what the others meant. It wasn’t just the colors. It was you. The way you moved, the way your voice cut through the noise, the way you didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stay awake, Sargeant.” You ordered, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have a single smart remark.

Much later, he woke up in the med tent, groggy but alive, and immediately found himself staring at you again.

You were restocking supplies nearby, your bright gear an almost comical contrast to the sterile white walls. The moment you noticed him looking, you crossed the room.

“You’re awake,” you said, checking his vitals. Your voice was softer now, calm and patient. He felt like he could melt. “Good.”

“You’re real.” He blurted out before he could stop himself.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “What?”

“Thought I was hallucinating.” He gestured vaguely at your vest, a grin cracking on his lips. “I mean, look at ya.” Lovely. The sun has never looked better.

Your lips twitched, like you were holding back a smile. “I get that a lot.”

Before he could come up with anything else to say- anything remotely smooth- the tent flap opened.

Price, Ghost, and Gaz stepped in, their eyes immediately landing on you. And for once, Soap wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

Gaz blinked. “You’re… bright.”

“Easy to spot.” You said, beaming.

Ghost stared at you for a few seconds longer, peering, before he spoke. “…You’re the sun.”

Price studied you for a long moment as well, then nodded like something clicked into place with a sigh. “Makes sense.”

You, on the other hand, looked confused and unsure, tilting your head once more in the way kittens do.

Soap couldn’t stop staring. He barely even heard the others talking, answering your confusion. All he could think about was how you’d shown up when he thought he was done for- and how you’d looked like a fiery star in the vast expanse of a cold, dark sky.

You glanced at him again, eyes sharp and warm all at once, lips quirking in a delicate smile while Gaz talked with you.

Here comes the sun, he thought.

(… would it be possible to cradle the sun, such warmth, in his hands?)

Part Two

[gallusrostromegalus]

My housemate reminded me of a flashbulb memory I have that I really wish I had a photograph of because it would be a magnificent image to inflict on the internet at large with Zero Context, but I'll try to describe it here, and then draw it after dinner.

Image Description:

As seen from about three feet off the ground: Interior, the den of an american suburban house built at the height of the atomic age and still decorated like it years later. There's dark wood paneling about halfway up the walls that offsets the almost neon pink-orange light of late sunset visible through the large window. Every object in the room is highlighted by the last of the sunlight. The only other light in the room is a TV set that was manufactured the same year Howdy Doody debuted on air, now broadcasting PBS Newshour in black and white.

Closest to the viewer, there is a small end table with a Nearly Full Martini glass, and a Half-empty glass Martini Pitcher, indicating that two of the five martinis it holds have been poured out.

Just behind it, an old man sits in a chair that was bright green and yellow when it was new but is now more Grellow. The man is in his mid-sixites, somewhat heavyset, with a full head of snow-white hair and thick glasses. He's wearing a dark brown tweed suit with leather elbow patches, and a white cotton button-up. He's watching the news with a calm and dispassionate demeanor. Tired, but still engrossed with the world's events. He's wearing dark brown penny loafers and garish argyle socks.

Behind him is a couch that is a matched set with the armchair, with the same Grellow chevron pattern, but there is a very large crochet afghan that has been spread out over the back to be decorative and maybe protect the couch from it's current occupant: a 120lb Wolf Hybrid.

She's seated lengthwise on the couch, like she had also been watching PBS Newshour, posed like a sphynx. She's close in wieght to the man, and definitely taller than him if she stands up, with a dark gray agouti coat and a bit of white countershading from the trace of domestic dog in her. She's turned her head to the viewer, bright yellow eyes focused on them, and the fur of her head and neck haloed with the sunset. She is pleased to see the veiwer, which means most of the teeth in her lower jaw are visible in her canine grin. The effect is very menacing if you don't know her.

Clutched rather neatly between her front paws is a second, identical martini glass, only not nearly quite so full as the old man's.

Title: "Oh, I didn't think you'd be back for another hour/GODDAMIT EDWIN"

[maximalismdaybyday]

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