#commande client

[4nuttyaddict]

Commande client: Ensemble cyber gothique noir et vert fluo. Lien facebook: https://www.facebook.com/4-nutty-addict-850962241666113

[sclappin]

A commission for a client who is not on Tumblr, who wanted his four main Dragon Age player characters all together. His poor Rook is about half the age of all the others at this point, and is being unjustly treated as the baby of the group of heroes.

My commission info

[wantonlywindswept]

Definitely True Facts About Commander Vertex #3

He has negative Force bacteria.

[forgotten Fox AU tag]

"Midichlorians," Patches said, for the third time, his head in his hands. "They're called midichlorians."

"Tiny little buggers that live in your body," Jek scoffed. "I might have barely scraped by my biology modules, but that sounds like bacteria to me."

Patches whimpered.

Jek grinned and reached over to pat his babiest of brothers on the head. Their youngest medic really was too easy to rile up. 

Still, at least Patches was capable of taking a break on occasion, even if it was just to sit at Jek's bedside in the medbay while he recovered from a round of Force cleansing. He always felt a little like the mess hall slop after every session, squishy and mostly-liquid, though the effects had been lessening as the treatments went on. 

Turned out that working in close proximity to an evil Sith overlord for an extended period of time could be 'damaging' and 'harmful to the spirit', and as soon as the Jedi got the okay from Marshal Commander Thorn they'd instituted regular healing sessions for the Guard. Some of them weren't overly affected--the ARF division hadn't been allowed in the Senate Dome that often anyway, and the medics rarely left the infirmary, much less Guard HQ--but the majority of them were on rotating schedules to get their minds checked for Sith residue or whatever.

It was even worse for the Force-sensitives.

No one was more surprised to find Force-sensitive clones than the clones themselves, and a frankly unsettling percentage of the Guard tested for above-average midichlorian counts. That was just those who agreed to submit to the assessment, too--a lot of the Guard refused to do even that. It wasn't like they could be Jedi, and with the war over, what did it even matter?

(Except it did matter, a lot, because apparently evil Sith overlords could also drain the life force from sentients around them, and particularly enjoyed ones with the Force. Palpatine got a little tasty burst of power like they were some kind of energy snack, and it wasn't like the Guard weren't already exhausted anyway.

That kind of siphoning left even worse traces of Sith influence; Jek's cleansing sessions made his bones feel like wobbly gelatin, but Glitch's sessions hurt.)

"I bet Defib's m-count is the highest in the Guard," Jek mused absently as he watched their CMO stalk around the medbay between the beds--and the Jedi--with a scowl on his face. 

Patches lifted his head to give Jek a horrified look.

"Don't say that where he can hear you."

Jek, who lacked both bones and a sense of self-preservation, merely shrugged. Defib had refused testing, scoffing that he didn't need the Force to heal, but he wasn't named after a defibrillator for nothing: he'd brought more than one brother back from the brink of death against impossible odds.

Jek had his suspicions about Patches, too. 

Even with Defib hovering suspiciously over their shoulders, the Jedi healers--there were four of them, led by Master Rig Nema--moved around the medbay with an almost unearthly poise. Jek was more familiar with ordered chaos in the infirmary: medics shouting across the room to each other, rushing back and forth to see how far their meager supplies could stretch. The Jedi were quiet, coordinating with each other soundlessly while still seeming to be aware of everything else happening in the room.

The mesmerizing little dance wasn't even interrupted by the main doors opening, which drew Jek's attention to Commander Vertex stepping into the medbay. The commander had his bucket tucked under one arm, and sharp eyes surveyed the room in a quick glance.

Patches waved at Vertex, because he was adorable. 

Vertex waved back, because he was a sap.

Defib immediately veered off his self-appointed task of looming to intercept Vertex before he got too far into the room. They ducked their heads together in a brief conversation with far too much angry gesticulating on Defib's part, and the calm competency Jek had come to expect on Vertex's. Jek watched, fascinated, as Vertex managed to settle the fuming medic with just a few words and a gentle touch to his shoulder. 

Defib made a bitchy face, but he did seem to lose some of his protective bristling; at Vertex's nudge he sidled over to his desk in the corner of the medbay, dropping into his chair to finally take a break and...to angrily chew on a ration bar?

Incredible.

The Jedi, meanwhile, had continued on with their Force nonsense, which lasted up until Vertex tapped one of the healers on the shoulder and their serenity shattered with a resounding squawk.

The poor Rodian who made the noise spun around, flailing wildly, and would have fallen back onto one of the beds if Vertex hadn't grabbed her to keep her upright. The other three Jedi's heads snapped up in eerie synchronicity, startled expressions on their faces, and Master Nema took a jolting step forward before seeming to register what had happened.

In the frozen stillness that followed, Defib's sullen crunching took on a distinctive note of glee.

"Apologies," Vertex said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"When did you even..." 

"How can we be of assistance, Commander Vertex?" Master Nema asked, stepping away from her patient to take the place of the still-baffled apprentice healer. Both she and Vertex smoothly ignored the disbelief radiating off the other Jedi, who were looking at Vertex like they didn't know how he had appeared. 

Jek wondered that sometimes, too, but it didn't bother him.

"Hey," he said, nudging Patches with his elbow as the two bigwigs conversed, "What do you bet that Commander Vertex has negative Force bacteria?"

Patches stared at Jek like he'd kicked a baby massiff, and then slowly sunk lower in his chair with a low, despairing whine.

So easy.

[miles-crow]

To Bayou... And beyond!

Commission for @/Ihavenotalent62 on Twitter ^^

[nlghtosphere]

somebody plz help me… im afraid i cooked up too large a concept for just one mind to contain: flight attendant chloe introducing OL nadine to the mile high club

[cups-official]

my biggest problem is that all the projects that I'm the proudest of are things that I probably cant put on a resume

[danisha-tdh]

[T-5150 HAS NOW AWAKE AND READY TO COMMAND]

About HIM:

T-5150 is an assistant of Commander Tartar. He's a menace and always talks about disturbing jokes (don't ask him about humans though). He never seen any Inklings due to his absence from a post-game Octo Expansion, since Tartar hasn't completed his very own subject form (yet). He's a quick learner whenever he sees any living creature's activity, he'll follow when no Tartar surroundings. As you fight with him, he's more difficult than Inner agent 3. However, he does recognise Trapper since he was told by Tartar that he was inspired by Experiment no.5150 (Trapper).

One fact: he always smiles for making an great appearance. But if you make him upset, he'll count 10 seconds.

His theme and profile icon

Silly doodles and first concept design

(Feat Commander Tartar design by @monicracar )

[androdragynous]

"why are we LYING and saying THIS social media is better for art than that social media because OBVIOUSLY that social media is better and-"

shut up. the site that will be ""most useful"" for selling your work has nothing to do with the site itself and everything to do with 1. if the people you want to sell to are there (and, surprise, there are other users on literally every site) and 2. if you can tolerate using it enough to reach an audience.

implying signing up for different social media is the only way to succeed as an artist is just straight up stupid. you want people to find your work? try starting with remembering to sign your fuckin name on it

[evilartist37]

Ok, but how the fuck do people actually get commissioned to do art? I feel like I’d have so much fun with it.

[4nuttyaddict]

Commande client: Réalisation d'un tour d'oreille composée de plumes blanches et bleu ciel.

Lien page facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100032848166805&locale=lv_LV

[snarp]

When will Tumblr allow me to use regular expressions in filters. I've got stuff going on that makes this necessary.

[filehulk]

EF Commander

Computer file management is something we all engage in, whether it’s organizing files on our desktop, creating new folders to store documents, or transferring data to different drives. It’s a common practice that enhances our ability to navigate systems more efficiently. Most of us are familiar with File Explorer, which typically gets the job done without issues. However, if you’re seeking…

[maitreahokpe]

RETOUR AFFECTIF IMMEDIT ET RAPIDE

RETOUR AFFECTIF IMMEDIT ET RAPIDE, si un homme ou une femme s’initie dans votre vie de couple, faite appel au grand maître marabout MEDIUM AHOKPE.toujours des dispute avec votre partenaire?Votre partenaire est sur le point de vous quitter?Alors votre belle-mère, votre beau père ainsi que vos beau frères et sœur ne vous apprécie pas ?les mauvais œils vous mettent des battons dans les roues et…

[dirt-mann]

the depreciated update key problem I'm having with ubuntu on my server is so bad I'm thinking about re-installing the operating system 😭

[toskarin]

you can't really place all the blame for bad female character design on artists because a lot of that comes from higher up the chain of command, which is something I learned the hard way when a client had me draw breasts and eyelashes on a wasp so that it was obvious she's a girl wasp

[silentwalrus1]

I like to think about what if the Kaminoans just, fucked all the way up and made the clones telepaths on purpose.

Kamino is in the Rishi maze, the equivalent of total buttfuck nowhere. This is like a cattle processing plant in rural Montana manufacturing an order for Shenzhen as outlined by a third party intermediary from Monaco who keeps contact with neither production nor “client” and nobody’s first language is Basic. Jedi are like, totally psychic right? Right. Psychic army for psychic clients, sounds right, checks out. There are whole ass telepathic alien species out there, some of which are also Jedi. Why would they want NON-psychic clones. Get it done, Tally Ho or Nala Says or whatever her name is. Chop chop.

Cue like seven years into production and the Kaminoan project leads are starting to get some… inklings…. that maybe some of the deliverable specs were perhaps not so much well-researched as based off cross-galactic hearsay some underpaid analysts pulled off space reddit. This is a business, okay? You’re not gonna make profit manufacturing two million units of fucking anything if you treat it like a luxury product, but especially not if the product has goddamn childhood development & socialization needs. Of fucking course some shit maybe slipped through the cracks. What are we supposed to fucking do now, Lama goddamn Sue sir, tell the Jedi or the pickled fucking Sith that oopsie woopsie, we got the specs wrong half a decade in and have to start over again?

No. No we are not. We are going to lie our fucking semi-aquatic asses off, is what we’re gonna do, and so will you clones if you know what’s good for you. NONE of you are fucking psychic, and you never were. Got that? Understood?

Fast forward to Jedi pickup D-Day and every time anyone with a lightsaber gets within aural biosystem of choice distance the clones immediately start loudly and dutifully Having Conversations.

Hello Commander Sir, It Is I, Trooper McSoldierClone, What A Weather It Is Today, Ha Ha? Over. Yes Indeed McTrooper One Two Three Four, I Am Agree, Now Here Is An Order To Follow Which I Am Vociferously Giving You, Acknowledge Orally, Over. Every clone making rock-hard sweating eye contact like don’t fuck it up as they mentally chant encouragement and script notes and jeering performance feedback at each other. Cadets trooping to fucking speech practice to learn speaking out loud with all the enthusiasm and skill of the average white suburban Floridian teenager taking their fifth mandatory Spanish 1 class. The jedi are like damn these poor asylum grown freaks are so unsocialized and uncomfortable around us, Their Owners, this is so tragic and horrid and unfortunate and meanwhile every clone standing silently in formation is mentally spectating the 400-person telepathic tetris team sport they invented with the same vibes as a football world cup back alley street party complete with official & unofficial betting pools and expert panel commentary