#getting all these crazy unhinged people drawings to analyze

[polarisdelphi]

Back on posting old art I never posted, Frau Schneider, my beloved 🖤

I'm seriously considering turning her into a sticker and slapping it everywhere I need to remember something to do. Drinking water? Frau is there judging me. Writing? Frau is waiting. Sleeping at a decent time? She's at the clock, looking at me with hatred in her eyes.

Jokes aside, this was more of a try on stylized drawing, which I completely suck. Since I studied Schneider's face thoroughly once for another drawing, I figured stylizing him would be easier for me as a first try.

I love his nose HAHAHAHA that's my anchor on his likeness xD

Sketches, breakdowns on how I got here, what I thought on shapes and more on his features - and just general artist blabbering, down below!

It was born from these loose sketches:

And I do like the ~proper~ one too. Took a lot of screenshots of the video's making of to understand his mannerisms when ~in Frau~, and there's a big change between the video and the live versions.

Video is a proper, collected, older woman with a dark side from repressed unfulfilled desires, live one is a brute, angry, harshly dominant one. 100% angry all the time, taking her dogs for a walk 🖤

Keeping some harsh shapes on the first one 'cause we all know she's evil, and some more organic ones on the second one 'cause she's UNHINGED.

(Also, Frau's coat are a thousand little Edelweiss 'cause you know. Schneider, Austria, his wife hahahaha aaaaand I have roots from there too, so I decided to shamelessly slap Edelweiss everywhere xD)

Another interesting thing to note, was trying to keep the male proportions on a female presenting appearance. Because we all learn about better shapes for women, how they usually are ~smaller, softer and more delicate~ than males (please read with sarcasm) but Schneider is still a man in woman's clothing, acting like a woman. So I had to keep in mind what I'd draw if it was just him as himself - big hands, big feet, tall as a fucking tree, very large shoulders, toned arms and muscles, all that. No ~delicate~ features 'cause he's still a man, but in here he's a woman.

I'm not saying I succedeed. But it was a good first try :)

Given I have so many drag queen original characters, it's something I think it was nice to study and have in mind T-T

About his features, like I said, I studied him once 'cause I was trying to go for stylized Live aus Berlin Schneider illustration once, but all I got is: I can draw his likeness from memory now, that's it *cries in incompetence*

I said before, I'm not good at stylizing.

So, his key features are: very slim and small mouth, big nose (gods I love his nose, I'll always say that), kinda small eyes and there's almost no distance to his eyebrows (on the video they paint his brows to make a LOT more arched, almost like original Maleficent), longer face, big and square chin, sharp and high cheekbones. I figured if I kept all that in mind, I'd have his likeness.

That's what I used to go figuring out how to draw Frau like that :)

And why am I blabbering all this?

I just hope it helps other self-taught artists out there who have a hard time finding resources and see other people's drawings and go "oooh man how do I get there?" and the artist always go "I dunno just draw a lot and you will get there :)"

Yes, yes, draw a lot. If you don't practice, you won't learn. But there ARE tools, observation studies, drawing studies and a WHOLE lot of things you can learn from other people to get where you want to faster and easier - but most of these resources are, nowadays, behind a paywall. So I just figured I'll share what I learned and hopefully it'll help someone struggling with the same things I did less than a year ago ;)

[thesupernaturaluniversity]

Just Don’t Call Them UFOs

The U.S. military wants pilots to report strange sightings in the sky, but doesn’t want any of the stigma that comes with it.

Pilots are about to receive a new memo from management: If you encounter an unidentified flying object while on the job, please tell us.

The U.S. Navy is drafting new rules for reporting such sightings, according to a recent story from Politico. Apparently, enough incidents have occurred in “various military-controlled ranges and designated airspace” in recent years to prompt military officials to establish a formal system to collect and analyze the unexplained phenomena. Members of Congress and their staffs have even started asking about the claims, and Navy officials and pilots have responded with formal briefings.

The Washington Post provided more details in its own story:

In some cases, pilots—many of whom are engineers and academy graduates—claimed to observe small spherical objects flying in formation. Others say they’ve seen white, Tic Tac–shaped vehicles. Aside from drones, all engines rely on burning fuel to generate power, but these vehicles all had no air intake, no wind and no exhaust.

The Navy knows how this sounds. It knows what you must be thinking. But the fact stands that some pilots are saying they’ve seen strange things in the sky, and that’s concerning. So the Navy is trying to assure pilots that they won’t be laughed out of the cockpit or deemed unhinged if they bring it up. “For safety and security concerns, the Navy and the [U.S. Air Force] takes these reports very seriously and investigates each and every report,” the Navy said in a statement to Politico.

Yet even as the Navy indicates it’s willing to discuss the taboo topic, it’s also shying away from three notorious little letters. UFO carries an airport’s worth of baggage, bursting with urban legends, government secrecy, and over-the-top Hollywood movies. The statements and quotes that the Navy provided to news outlets are devoid of any reference to UFOs. Instead, they’re called “unexplained aerial phenomena,” “unidentified aircraft,” “unauthorized aircraft,” and, perhaps most intriguing, “suspected incursions.”

Read: When a Harvard professor talks about aliens

The message is, if you see something, say something, but for God’s sake, lower your voice. Don’t call it a UFO. Which is funny, since the military came up with the name in the first place.

The earliest government programs dedicated to investigating UFO sightings in the late 1940s treated the claims, unsurprisingly, as a big joke. As a rule, officials dismissed and debunked any reports as hoaxes and hallucinations, according to UFOs and Government: A Historical Inquiry, a textbook-style deep dive published in 2012. This apparently didn’t sit well with some of the higher-ups.

In some ways, the Navy’s modern-day attempt to take seriously reports of UFO sightings is a rerun of what happened next. “I want an open mind,” Major General Charles Cabell, then the head of Air Force intelligence at the Pentagon, reportedly demanded at a meeting with subordinates in 1951. “Anyone who doesn’t keep an open mind can get out now.”

A new, secretive program, dubbed Project Blue Book, was quickly organized to investigate claims of strange visions in the sky without ridiculing them. Its director, Edward Ruppelt, introduced the term unidentified flying object sometime around 1953. The definition carried no hint of extraterrestrial life; in a national-security official’s scariest daydreams, the objects were probably Russian spycraft. For the military, a UFO was simply “any airborne object which by performance, aerodynamic characteristics, or unusual features, does not conform to any presently known aircraft or missile type, or which cannot be positively identified as a familiar object.”

By then, there had already been several high-profile reports of objects flying through or falling from the sky. For the public, these sightings didn’t just seem unfamiliar—they seemed not of this world. A civilian pilot had seen nine somethings flying in formation near Mount Rainier in Washington State. A rancher found mysterious wreckage on his property outside Roswell, New Mexico. Multiple people spotted a series of lights hovering over Washington, D.C., and moving toward the White House. The military even mobilized jets to intercept them, but found nothing.

In the meantime, UFOs further infiltrated the public consciousness. They sailed into Hollywood, which to this day remains obsessed with stories about aliens, from friendly creatures to nightmarish monsters. The fourth Men in Black movie is coming out this summer, and it’s probably not the last.

Elsewhere, the lines between fiction and reality blurred. People told harrowing stories of nighttime abductions. UFOs became the focus of conspiracy theories about government secrecy. A disheveled, wild-haired man on the History Channel suggested that extraterrestrial beings helped build Stonehenge. Over time, a collective opinion emerged about those who truly believed UFOs proved the existence of aliens, and it wasn’t a flattering one. “Let’s face it—believing in the paranormal has become shorthand for crazy,” wrote Alexandra Ossola in Futurism in 2017, on the lasting stigma surrounding UFO truthers.

Military pilots are well aware of the taboo. Christopher Mellon, a former deputy assistant secretary of defense for intelligence in the Clinton and Bush administrations and an advocate for UFO study, has said service members worry that reporting UFOs puts their careers at risk. They also worry that staying silent could threaten national security, in case one of those mysterious objects turns out to be a new form of aircraft from a rival country.

“Nobody wants to be ‘the alien guy’ in the national-security bureaucracy,” Mellon wrote in a Post op-ed last year. “Nobody wants to be ridiculed or sidelined for drawing attention to the issue.”

After two decades in operation, Project Blue Book eventually concluded there was “no evidence that [UFOs] are intelligently guided spacecraft from beyond the Earth.” They attributed most sightings to, among other things, clouds, weather balloons, and even birds. “The report brushes aside the demands of some scientists and laymen for a large-scale effort to determine the nature of such ‘flying saucers,’’ The New York Times wrote in 1969. “Such a project, the report says in effect, would be a waste of time and money.”

Read: But, seriously, where are the aliens?

Future generations at the Pentagon thought differently. From 2007 to 2012, the Department of Defense operated a top-secret, $22 million program dedicated to investigating UFO reports, known as the Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program. The New York Times revealed its existence in a jaw-dropping story in 2017. “The program produced documents that describe sightings of aircraft that seemed to move at very high velocities with no visible signs of propulsion, or that hovered with no apparent means of lift,” the Times reported.

Although the funding eventually ran out, officials say Defense officers continue to investigate claims reported by service members.

Edward Ruppelt probably didn’t imagine the journey his three-letter abbreviation would take over the years. In 1955, five years before he died, he dumped everything he had learned about UFOs into a nearly 300-page report. “People want to know the facts,” he wrote. “But more often than not, these facts have been obscured by secrecy and confusion, a situation that has led to wild speculation on one end of the scale and an almost dangerously blasé attitude on the other.”

As his successors in the U.S. military draft their reports and memos and guidelines, carefully avoiding any mention of that word, they will no doubt run into the same trouble he did. “The report has been difficult to write,” Ruppelt wrote in 1955, his frustration hovering above the page like the air over pavement on a hot day, “because it involves something that doesn’t officially exist.”

[mizmahlia]

#5 with Jason Todd

Oooo was this one fun. ;) Thanks for requesting this one- I hope it’s angsty enough for you!

(Also? AU drabble is very AU.)

#5: Jason Todd – “How funny. You thought I cared.”

Batman had the Red Hood and a mob hitman cornered in an alley on Miagani Island. The man Red Hood had his gun trained on was stupid enough to cash in on a hit put on a city official. Just as the Red Hood drew his gun to fire a warning shot in his direction, Batman pinned the gun to the wall behind him using his own grapple gun. But then he’d drawn a second weapon faster than Batman thought was possible and now he was dangerously close to finishing off his hostage. The man was on his knees, hands behind his head, facing Batman. 

“Try something. I dare you. I make Boy Scouts look lazy.”

Bruce stopped at a safe distance. He could hear the amusement in Jason’s voice, even through the voice modulator in the helmet. The second gun was pointed at the back of the man’s head, his arm steady and the hammer cocked.

“You can’t see it, but under this helmet? I’m enjoying this.”

“You know I can’t let you do this.”

He didn’t move, choosing to give himself enough room to carry out any number of the scenarios in his head. The problem was that most of the scenarios he was considering wound up with the man dead on account of Jason’s accuracy and reflexes. And my hesitation to do what I have to, he thought.

“Ah, yes. ‘The Bat Talk’. Are you really going to do this again?” He tilted his head and sighed theatrically. “You realize the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.” He shoved the barrel of the gun against the man’s head and he yelped in surprise.

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek. Jason had always had a knack for pushing his buttons, but this was different. This wasn’t some sparring session at home or a bored Robin on patrol with nothing to do. This was a man, a young man, with a myriad of issues to deal with and a nasty grudge, and that made him more dangerous than Bruce cared to admit.

“And you’re a model example of sanity?” Bruce gestured to the man who was now shaking violently and had wet himself. “This isn’t the way we do things and you know that. I taught you better than this.”

The man looked up at Batman, shocked at the realization these two knew each other.

“Nightwing said something similar nights ago, except he told me I’m 'unhinged’.” He shook his head and looked down to his left. His voice grew quiet. “I guess we’re back to you guys all calling me crazy, huh? Good to know.”

Something in Bruce’s chest lurched at the wounded tone to Jason’s voice. He stepped forward, one hand out in front of him.

“Listen, I…”

Jason cut him off. He holstered his gun and dropped his hands to his sides, balling them into fists.

“You want to know if I’m any more sane or rational than you? Christ, that’s not hard. I have no illusions about what I am and why I am this way,” he said pointedly. “And before you give me any more shit about it, I know what you’re gonna say. You’re gonna tell me that killing someone who took a life not forty-five minutes ago just for money, let me remind you, doesn’t make me any better than him.”

Bruce stayed silent and let Jason talk. He’d holstered the gun under his arm, not at his thigh, and his drawing speed from beneath his arm was slightly slower. He just might have a chance to save him. A small voice in the back of his mind asked which man he was referring to and he told himself he could save them both. But he’d been so exhausted since the siege, both physically and mentally, and he couldn’t deny that the murderer in front of Jason was the least of his concerns.

“It doesn’t. And you know that.”

Jason released the catch on his helmet, the face plate shifting with a hiss. Bruce steeled himself, surprised at the move and not at all prepared to see Jason’s face again. He hadn’t seen him since the night of the siege and his eyes went straight to the scar below Jason’s left eye. Jason knew Bruce would stare and he grinned, ghosting his fingers over the red, raised skin.

“Yeah, this one hurt like a bitch. But it wasn’t the worst thing he did to me.” A bitter chuckle died in his throat and he shook his head. He looked up at Bruce, his piercing blue eyes locked onto the lenses in his cowl.

“The worst thing he did was only a few months in. He showed me a photo of you and the new kid. Sick, right? So everything that happened after that- the beatings, the meds from Harley, the weird psych experiments. They all paled in comparison to what you did to me. You left me.”

Bruce felt the color drain from his face and his stomach rolled. He’d long had suspicions of what happened to Jason, but the only evidence he had to work with was the video Joker sent of Jason’s apparent execution. He’d studied that footage repeatedly, seeing the burns and the bruising and the scarring, and the terrible condition of Jason’s suit. He analyzed the bruising patterns to determine when they’d been inflicted, but there were so many in varying stages of healing it was nearly impossible to tell. In the end, the video showed him everything but told him nothing.

But none of that mattered anymore. None of what the Joker did to Jason could hold a candle to how a photo of a new Robin would hurt him. As difficult as it was for Bruce to admit, the Joker had finally done what he’d been trying to do for years: he destroyed Robin and by extension, Batman. And he’d taken a son from his father.

Jason was staring at him now, anger replaced by smugness at Bruce’s lack of response. He noticed Bruce’s posture stiffen when he mentioned the photo and he took a small measure of satisfaction in the fact he could throw some of his pain back in Bruce’s face. He took advantage of Bruce being distracted and continued talking.

“Anyway. We can reminisce some other time.”

Jason stepped behind the hitman again, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He pulled him to his feet, putting him between himself and Bruce. “One man killing another doesn’t change much, so you’re half-right. But when you’ve killed as many of these assholes as I have? That’s called making a difference.”

His eyes never left Batman’s face as he gripped the man’s chin in one hand and the back of his head in the other, twisting violently. Bruce darted forward but he knew he was too late. Jason let go and the man dropped to the ground in a heap.

“Wow, old man. You’re getting slow. Did you even want to stop me?” 

He dusted his hands together and yanked the grapple line from the wall next to him to retrieve his gun. He studied the dents in the barrel before returning it to his holster. He wasn’t at all surprised when Bruce spun him around, fists latching onto his jacket, and he allowed Bruce to slam him against the building behind him. Jason wasn’t looking at Batman at that moment. He was looking at Bruce. And it was Bruce’s voice shouting at him.

“Do you remember any of what I taught you? Do you remember any of what we accomplished together?“ Jason didn’t react and simply stood there, savoring the fact he was nearly the same height as Bruce now. He looked at his former mentor and partner, an empty smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, how funny. You thought I still cared.”

He didn’t move, his eyes boring into Bruce’s.

“You think I still care about any of that? That after everything Joker put me through, everything you let him do to me and countless others, that I would still follow your rules? That I would care about saving the lives of criminals who will never change?”

He slammed his knee into Bruce’s solar plexus, sending him backward and forcing him to let go. Jason then swung one of his massive arms, his gloved fist connecting solidly with Bruce’s face.

“Jason, we don’t cross that line. We don’t take lives. We can’t.” Bruce swiped blood from his cheek. “You used to believe in that.”

“Yeah, well, I used to believe in a lot of things. Like family, for instance. But a year of physical and psychological torture tends to shift your perspective a little bit. The Jason you knew before all of this is long gone. You can thank the Joker and Harley for that.”

Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but the words were lost. He had no idea what to say because he had no idea what his son had been through. Jason looked down at the dead man between them and shook his head.

“You all think I’m crazy, that I need to be saved and sent to Arkham, the place that turned me into… this.” There was so much venom in his words at the mention of Arkham. He looked up at Bruce and his voice wavered ever so slightly.

“I’m a lot of things, B. Angry. Confused. Hell, I know I’m damaged.”

He touched his fingers to a hidden button on his helmet, once again covering his face and the capital ‘J’ on his cheek.

“But I’m not the lunatic you all think I am.”

He fired his grapple at a nearby rooftop and disappeared into the darkness. Bruce again looked at the dead man at his feet. He had to call Gordon and report the incident. But before he could call Gordon, Alfred’s voice was in his ear piece.

“Sir, as much as you don’t want to hear it, I believe that young man has a point.”

“You can’t be serious, Alfred. He’s killing people.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. I disagree with the permanence of the results from his method of crime-fighting, as I know you do.”

Bruce didn’t say a word. He continued staring at the man on the ground, eyes open and fixed on the street lamp above them. He knew Alfred was watching the feed from his cowl live on the monitors back at the cave, looking into those same dead eyes. He knelt down and closed them.

“But?”

“He said it himself; he isn’t insane. Master Jason knows what he’s doing is wrong and he’s aware of the consequences of his actions. As it stands, in a court of law he would be considered sane.”

“He can’t be allowed to take his issues out on Gotham. I won’t let him continue operating this way.”

Bruce shook his head and stood up, sending Gordon a message about the incident and its location. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of that anymore tonight.

“I know you won’t. Master Bruce, was there truth to what he said? Have you and Master Dick told him he’s crazy?”

There was a reproachful tone in Alfred’s voice and Bruce didn’t answer as he launched himself up out of the alley and into the night sky. It wasn’t that simple. They all thought Jason was dead until that night of the siege two months ago. To find out he’d worked for years planning such a horrendous event was too much to process at first. Jason, his partner, his son, had wanted him dead and went to terrifying extremes to try and make that happen. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to consider Jason would have made that decision while he was of sound mind. Jason wouldn’t do that.

But he’d seen the video. And the scar. He’d heard the taunts from Harley about the “fun” she’d had with him. And then there were the flashbacks the Joker had shown him, the ones he told himself weren’t real, couldn’t be real. After tonight, he realized they may have been much more real than he cared to admit.

“Sir, while I agree he’s emotionally volatile and unsteady, he’s been severely traumatized. Please consider the possibility he may be reaching out for help. Even if he doesn’t realize it.”

Bruce turned off his ear piece without responding and glided over the river toward the movie studios. He had to find a way to help Jason, to try and fix the years of damage and abuse. To show him he hadn’t been simply cast aside and written off.

He put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the main computer terminal, locking down the movie studios and disabling all of his communication devices. He couldn’t afford the distractions and didn’t want anyone interfering. It was time to talk to Harley to find out what they did to his son and how to repair the damage.

But if that didn’t work, if his plan failed, he would need a way to stop him. Either way, Harley would give him what he needed. He didn’t fail to see the irony in that and with a grim smile, he started typing.

We can fix this, Jason.

Together.