#i had to fix something in the art and fix its quality

[deepdreamnights]

Using Vidu to Make Character Turnarounds

Disclosure: I am in the Vidu Artist Program.

Having (at the very least) front and back reference greatly improves the quality of character image prompting. And very often, one finds that they were lazy and only got a couple of bits of character reference. Or they have tons of it in the wrong art style.

A character like Wally Manmoth requires some good reference to work right.

Now, it's not that hard to prompt up something that matches close enough and then modifying the stuff manually until it works, such as I did with TriceraBruce and DeinoSteve:

You can tell Steve's the bad boy because he's got a cool rip in the back of his jacket.

But for Wally, I decided to try out Vidu as a means of getting turnaround frames.

So I loaded Wally's front-view pic (above) into the image-to-video feature, and prompted with:

vintage traditional animation scene (1985) humanoid mammoth/furry elephant wearing a red hawaiian shirt and blue shorts, by filmation and sunbow productions, 90s colors, friendly on green background, streamlined black line art with cel shaded vintage cartoon color, official media, character design fullbody shot on green background. The mammoth-anthro starts facing the camera, turning around to face away from the viewer, providing a view of his back.

I gave it two shots at the 720x quality setting (12 points per, total of 24), and got:

Huh. Weird it happened twice, etc.

This demonstrates both that the tech is viable for this use, and the reason you'd want to have that multi-view reference. The robot clearly assumes that a luau shirt would have a large print on the back, whereas wally's is a more basic print. That's ultra easy to fix, though.

I started by exporting the last frame of each (or close to it, picking the one that looks cleanest)

While its image editing features and often touch-and-go, one thing the Midjourney edit feature has going for it is it's utility as an upscaler. You load the image in, make your tweaks (just a little bit of background if you're just upscaling) and then upscale and at the very least you have 2048x2048 worth of resolution.

I used the midjourney edit process, that got those two images to the following state, as a test.

The results are good, but getting the large trees to erase-and-replace out took several attempts, and just doing it in photoshop then using the editor to upscale would have been faster.

This is why we do tests.

I went with the slightly-at-an-angle one for the main reference sheet. I'll be keeping the straight-on-back-shot in case it winds up being useful for specific scenes down the line.

In photoshop, I touched up the shirt print, made sure the colors where consistent, and simplified the hair coloration to something more period-plausible.

No more giant trees on the back! On the other hand, I think the feet sprouting toes on the heel is going to be something I'll be fixing frame-by-frame until there's another revision.

Human characters will induce these issues less often. I just stick with my genre of choice.

Midjourney was not cooperating with TyrannoMax (it really doesn't like giving him the proportions I like, preferring to make him a weird big-head salamander), so I went the same direction, resulting in this stage 1 front/back:

Only Midjourney refused to work with it, at all. Declaring everything that came out of it too lewd for its internal censor. Apparently, this hunky relative of cheesasaurus rex is too sexy for general consumption. Nevermind that it's a cartoon lizard in a shade tangello orange.

The workaround is too dumb for words.

Slam the hue slider until it's off anything that could be perceived as a human skintone.

Then make the modifications. Here I had to rework the leg several times, and do a lot of tweaking to remove-overinking. Then I popped it back out, droped it back into lineart, re-colored it, and and composited it back together:

And voila, a front and back for Max. I shortened his tail, as the longer tails have been causing problems with confusing the image prompting systems. The armor skirt has scallops to accommodate the tail, which looked better more consistently than the flaps folding around the tail.

The results are, thus far, encouraging.

Of course, if the back of your character has any unexpected details, you're going to have to add those in after the fact or include them in the prompting, and you're going to be making a lot of edits regardless (as you should).

Oh, and Max has a sword now.

A blade of amber crystal with a fossilized femur grip and a faceted dino-eye that should be far enough away from the Eye of Thundera for safety. A roleplay-toy friendly trademark weapon, usually a sword, was a must-have for 80s action-adventure lines despite the fact that you'd never see it used on anything that wasn't a robot, living statue, or skeleton.

Thus the sword's gimmick is it cleaves through non-living matter with ease but anything BS&P doesn't want subjected to a stabbin's is encased in amber crystal: locked in place if partially encased, put into suspended animation if fully encased. A nice, nonlethal use for a magic sword.

It's proportioned like a gladius, but is generally interpreted as larger, approaching a broadsword, in keeping with the generally ridiculous blade sizes of kidvid fantasy. They're just more fun when they're stupidly huge.

Is "Sword of Eons" too on the nose?

[lothricsage]

Lothric castle × Anor Londo solidarity 🌞🌛 👑🌙

[dolokhoded]

what's the buzz, tell me what's a-happening ???

[justcallmesakira]

The reader looking so pretty at an event in the agency, co worker dazai can't help but stare at her :> make sum scenario :>

"I SEE YOUR PRETTY EYES AT MINE, MISTER~"

Sypnosis: Dazai just cant keep his eyes to himself when a colleuge of his is looking so darn pretty!

Dazai x fem! reader

Genre: suggestive, romance

Warnings: reader is sort of cheeky, suggestive as hell, implied alcoholism, author gave the reader on what attire shes wearing.

A/N FINALLY A REQUEST AFTER SO FUCKIN LONG

The agency had decided to hold another party in celebration of a huge deal which would help the agency .

And of course you were invited, almost everyone was. You decided to look extra pretty today because why not, not because of others but for yourself.

You had picked out a extravagant ebony coated frock which covered all the way up to your legs and ended with glistening white layers of laces.

The party was at 8 o clock, you had time plus what would you do getting there so early?

Gently tapping on the tubes of lipsticks you picked out a vermillion shade and smoothly applied the waxy substance on your lips. The colour suited the rose tied around your neck really well.

Finally adding some final touches you rushed out the door and walked along to the agency.

There were colourful lights and food everywhere, Atsushi teaching Kyouka how to make decorations, doctor Yosano taking a bit too much of wine, ranpo staring at powdered donuts... To think of it you remember him taking 5 of them sneakily one night and you wonder why hes so obsessed with them.

But one thing you could notice was a certain someones eyes on you... Dazai.

You walked up to atsushi and kyouka, talking to them and teaching them some tips and tricks to fit in with the agency.

You could feel at all times though, a certain pair of eyes glancing at you from time to time from the corner of the room.

"Excuse me, i will just fix my hair and come back" you politely end the conversation before walking towards the door and going outside.

Despite your heels clacking against the floor, you could feel another set of shoes following them.

"Dazai-san, may i know why i feel your eyes on my at all times?" you ask putting a perfect spot from the distance between your figure and the mans figure.

He chuckled.

"Bella, i must say your quite the smart one arent ya'?" osamu replies back with much cheekiness in his tone as yiu turned to him, he had a black tuxedo, a polished and refined one, it hugged his body quite tightly too.

You just sighed at his remark, he was a ladies man you knew but you have never seen the glint and love in his eyes on a girl ever before, it amde your stomach turn slightly in a good way, of course.

His teasing grin drops and turns into a more soothing smile as he walks over to you which makes you back towards the wall unsure whether to trsut him or not.

He lowers his head a bit to reach your face taking in all of it's features.

"Are you trying to woo me, dazai-san? It seems like it"

"Haaah, maybe. The thing is bella you just look so.." you expect him to give you some compliment like every boy does when they see a girl sitting pretty and all but instead he gently took a strand of your hair, took it to his lips and uttered every single quality and flaw about you, it was as if hes born to have a poets tongue with you being the muse.

"I just want to admire you all day, my darling. Its not lust nor a small crush, it isnt even close to love but something beyond the world and beyond the universe to attend to, i dont know i could drown in your eyes right now but i would prefer staring at them for an eternity as if its a gorgeous piece of art hung on a museum"

he said softly, oh god did this man made your heart drop down your stomach and melt into your intestines.

With each word he spoke through his charming voice, you could feel his breathe and hands going closer towards your sweating body and at last, he asked for your permission to which you only looked at him with a slight embroidery of embarrassment on your cheeks.

Dazai tenderly kissed your forehead but though it lasted short you wondered whether he tried to go for your lips instead because of the shift in his body.

"Oi, dazai and [Name] if your done with your cheesy af encounter than come back to the party! Presidents calling you two!"

Atlast after moments of intimate interaction which wasnt even intimate because of the silent yearn for something neither the two of you could preach. Both of you decided to go back to the party.

Later in the relationship you realised that your first kiss with this loverman was not the type of kiss those possessive men would do which would take your breathe away but more of a desperate one as if to reach out for something which one already got.

In the end nor dazai or you could just confess normally without making each other look like two pieces of magnificent artwork looking at each other.

A/N: i hate this more than dazai hates him self :(((((((( btw reader is wearing this dress

Divider crds! : @cafekitsune

Tags! : @inojuuy @silverbladexyz @atlasnessie @tsuunara @elizais @saelique @chuuyasboner @atzuhi @riiwrites @ruanais @biscuits-spooky-corner @rusmii

[wilted3sunflowers]

i based chloe off of an angora rabbit which are very fluffy and prestigious and with a rich girl like chloe i know she'd enjoy fur.

also feat the old duchess noir look and her peacock look that i had shown ages ago but never fully drawn up

of course i also had to include all the rabbits ive made together

i'd say rabbit are the miraculous are the most like opposite to the core of who chloe is [theres one more miraculous thats even more opposing to her but i havent finished ironing out that design for her]

with the rabbit miraculous she has to witness over and over again, she's not the main character. She's not the important one, she'll never be ladybug or be as iconic as ladybug. That Adrien is not just her childhood friend and beloved prince but is chat noir, that dupain cheng of all people is the ladybug she's respected. Maybe she should have seen it coming. Something karmic always had to happen to her of all people! That to be confronted with the past of her showing in the burrows of all her own causing of akumitizations that she also could see snippets of others talking poorly of her-

Is this really her legacy she wants?

She knew she was more stand off-ish and prioritized herself but truly no one actually likes her or tolerates her or finds any admirable quality in her- even Sabrina gets upset with her.

She can't even go back and fix it, sure her power could allow for that but I think if it happened it'd create bigger butterfly events that'd shed need to go back and correct even if she didn't want to. That if she really wants to keep a miraculous this time... she can't mess it up.

Of course I wanted Chloe draped in furs to mimic how fluffy an angora rabbit is and how their wool can actually be used in fashion as an expensive and more niche fur. Her 'shorts' on the bodysuit [its just a design of it not actual shorts] to reference back to her beta design which i found was very cute I decided her top to reference her Queen Bee outfit - In this I would place Chloe as another [accidental] holder of the rabbit very soon after her time as queen bee ended. She's desperate to get back out there, be a team member, to be fighting by her idol ladybug and getting to be a hero. Before the whole regression arc started in miraculous ladybug even in the queen bee concept art taking the hat again to attach ears to.

she was very close to keeping her signature ponytail but the fluffed out hair is much more close to the image of a fluffy rabbit i wanted to keep

[vixen-tech]

if you want to -- maybe AUTO with a botanist reader? i just think it'd be so interesting how it would play out !! u dont have to, so only do it if u want to!!

🩹 anon

To be Loved, To Maybe be Changed (Auto x Botanist!Reader)

Oh that certainly is a concept!! It's a great one for Auto to, this put an entire storyline in my head that I think justifies breaking out the oneshot format rather than headcanons. Which works out great because I think out of all the Ai's I've written for, he would need the most 'set up' from how not-sentient he's protrayed in Wall-E. Anyways grab a snack floks this is a long one

It had been many generations since the Axium returned home to earth. Humans, robots, and the all important plant finding themselves back on soil, populating the deserted planet once more.

Things have changed since then. The human body began readapting to earth's gravity, the majority of buildings around the landing site have been fixed up and inhabited, and most importantly: the city is covered in plants. Grasses sprout between broken walkways, invy weaves its way up repurposed skyscrapers, gardens spill out of every available alleyway, a gaint tree stands where that first plant took root all those centuries ago. Each year it seems the sky gets a little more blue.

The ever diversifying flora had captivated you ever since you first had the words to describe it. As soon as you had a say so, you began studying it. Dispite the flourishing growth, any sort of plant husbandry was still something of a lost art. You lived off of the ancient manuals and beginners guides that eventually made their way out of the Axium's archives.

Yet even those could only do so much for you when most of the crops that had evolved from that first seedling had taken forms a far cry from their original pre space-age forefathers. It became your life's mission to learn how to best take care of these new cultivars and of course, spread the knowledge (and hopefully passion) for botany that you had gained throughout your life.

That was what fueled your visits to the Axium. Still parked at the foot of that monumental tree, it had been transformed into something of a community center. With most of its facilities still running and new services offered everyday. You often came to drop off your experimental findings, teach classes, and check to see if other botanists had done the same. Why you began exploring the depths of the halls that one fateful day, you still don't know.

The spaceship was massive, clearly a crowning jewel of its time. To this day many rooms remained unused and largely blocked off. The bustle and warmth of public spaces giving way to dust and insect nests as you roam through areas no longer needed. Bathrooms too far from the people to warrant upkeep, storage rooms that were once filled with replacement parts for the robots that now walked side by side with humans. And at the end of your journey, the captain's quarters.

The door was practically sealed shut with age, and the room behind it was hardly any better. The air attacked you with a cloud of dust once you finally managed to shove open the door, and no matter how much you rubbed your eyes there still appeared to be an almost foggy looking quality to the room.

That's when you found Auto.

He was still dangling from the ceiling above a control panel you doubt still worked. You had seen and befriended many robots before, they were just as common as humans in the city nowadays with remarkably little tension between them. Recognizing that the innert steering wheel in front of you was once one, your heart ached. You were no mechanic, but surely you had to at least try to get him up and running again. What can you say, you were always a bit of a bleeding heart.

After carefully detaching him from the ceiling you carried what was essentially an inanimate hunk of metal all the way back home with you. People stared, sure, but they kept any questions or judgments to themselves as you made your way home.

Your residence was rustic, to say the least. A fairly rundown shack renovated into a makeshift greenhouse. Produce and flowering plants alike overflowed from their neat rows of pots on benches. Some were for you, more were to sell, all were part of research in one way or another.

You loved walking through your own little botanical garden to get to your living quarters. The moment you pass through the front doors you're always hit with a wave of earthy freshness. The smell of petrichor and pollen greeted you (and your new... friend?) just as it always did. Never once failing to make you feel at home.

Your living quarters themselves were similarly homey. Not drastically bigger than a hotel room, it's a modest living area with a kitchen tucked in the corner and two doors along the wall. One leading to a compact bathroom, the other your bedroom. Some may call it cramped, but to you it's cozy. You spent most of your time in the greenhouse anyway.

That might have been the only day you mourned your lack of space. As if he were a friend you had to drag home after a night of drinking, you placed Auto on the couch. Promising to yourself that you'd do your best to fix him up. You'd probably have to give him some wheels to, since you ripped him from the ship. Well, your life could always use some more excitement.

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

Your knowledge of machinery had definitely improved over the past few weeks. On all accounts you were extraordinarily lucky that he was in such good shape. Age had rendered most of his circuits unusable, but isolation kept them from becoming unrecognizable. Night after night you would come home with a new part and with surgical delicacy, swap it out for its damaged counterpart.

You had heard stories from the time of the Axium. You knew of the 'evil autopilot program that tried to trap humanity in space'. You knew that you were probably trying to fix said evil autopilot program. It may have been the weeks of one sided bonding, but you didn't buy it. Surely at worst he was just following orders. And who knows, maybe with some free will he might be able to turn over a new leaf.

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

"What happened?" His voice was striking, deep and inhumanly regular in a way that was still seen a trademark of artificial speech. He was upright on the wheeled body you attached him to, the red eye (camera?) at the center of his face seemed to scan you up and down before doing the same to the room around him.

The cocktail of pride and anxiety had yet to leave your chest. You attempted to explain, "Well I fixed you-"

"Before that." He interrupted. Slowly wheeling himself to the living room window, still unsure of the new addition you had made to his body. "Where are we?" He added.

You should have been prepared for that one. "We're on earth, in my house." You watched with apprehension as he stared out the window. The steering wheel that made his outer body clicked back and forth as if he were swaying in thought.

"Earth is habitable." His voice lacked strong inflection, you were unsure if he was asking you a question or stating the fact to himself.

"It has been for a long time." You said as gently as you possibly could. "You were... on that ship for centuries, a lot has changed since then."

If he was listening to you, he made no effort to show it. Instead continuing to look outside as if he were zoning out in thought. "There are plants", he observed.

The view out that window wasn't remarkable by any means. Just some grass and a few odd trees before the city's skyscrapers blocked your line of sight. But the mere mention of plants was always enough to get you excited. "Oh if you're interested in plants you should see this." Gesturing for him to follow you as you opened the door to your greenhouse.

He paused for a moment before trailing behind you.

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

Auto made for a strange guest. With no astro-cruise to run he spent a considerable amount of time staring at you while you worked. It was only as you were measuring the pH of your plants' soil that you began narrating your work to him. It started as a way for you to simply diffuse the tension and explain why you were so invested in the vegetation.

He made for a good wall to rant to. You didn't have many close friends and certainly none as into botany as you, most other botanists spent as much time with their garden as you do. But thankfully, no matter how much you asked if you were being annoying, he would repeat that "The information is important, please continue." All while focused on whatever orchid you made the subject of your newest lecture. You did make it clear that he was free to leave at any time.

He never did.

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

Your first trip to the Axium since Auto's reactivation was an awkward one, at least on your part. When you announced that you needed to go to drop off your latest batch of research he requested to could come with, one of the first things he asked of you since waking up.

Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Auto had barely took a step outside your home. Relying instead on you and whatever books or documentaries you had to fill him in on what the world had become. Who were you to deny him some fresh air?

Although you had grown much more comfortable around him you were still anxious to hear what he thought of everything. And as always his judgment came in the form of definite reports. It was all "Humanity is stable." Or "Plant life is flourishing." If he had any semblance of opinion, he didn't tell you about it.

He didn't behave much differently on the Axium, continuing to trail you like a lost duckling and thoroughly scan the surroundings. It wasn't until you met up with a fellow herbalist that he spoke a word.

They asked you about a specific project you were working on, a new crossbreed of a medicinal herb of particular interest to them. However, as it wasn't the purpose of your trip you didn't have any of its records on you. You were about to apologize and tell them so until Auto informed them, "The crossbreed has shown accelerated growth but a greater sensitivity to sunlight." The herbalist thanked both of you and walked off.

Even though you shouldn't have been shocked to learn that he was actually storing the information you spat at him, it was still nice to know that he cared to some degree.

"Thank you, Auto."

"You're welcome."

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

The days have gone on much the same since then. You had never sought out an adventurous life. Often you go out the greenhouse in the morning and find Auto observing the various moths and flies that had evolved as pollinators alongside the new flora. "Morning Auto!" You would cheerfully greet.

You never fully understood why he stayed, but it didn't matter to you at this point. He was here and he made no effort to go. You had more than enough room in your life for him anyway.

"Good morning."

And so another day starts.

[anachronisticcrab]

Disclaimer: Don't like? don't read, don't engage. More in an edited section at the bottom of the post.

Tell me why my roommate is kinda aphobic and started crying when I call them out on it ONCE

So we had a stupid argument (so dumb. But also not cause it's based in him being aphobic) over him shipping Jayvik in arcane.

My issues with this (I have not seen arcane nor will I watched it cause one of the characters has my dead name and it makes me uncomfy to hear it seen and spelled the same way, this is just what I have learned through ppl who have seen it)

Viktor is asexual canonically. Like from the creators mouth, he has been ace and possibly aro since the beginning. Everyone that I see that ships them draws Jayce and Viktor fucking. Leave him alone, he's an ace guy, I have like 3 and u gays have 5 million twinks to draw getting railed

Jayvik shippers often draw art in ways that comes across as ableist, pedophilic and infantalizing of Viktor. It's always big huge Jayce carrying around a teeny tiny Viktor and it bothers me. (Lots of ships do this, it's always weird and gross. I'm not pretending I've never enjoyed that art, cause it's sometimes really well drawn, but it's still a little creepy and ableist) ((Edit: not calling Jayvik pedophilic in canon, I'm saying the way that I've seen shippers treat them as 'Big strong man and tiny fragile uwu boy' comes across as pedophilic to me))

This is the big one: Jayce is Viktors allegorical rapist. The scene where Viktor does, Jayce throws him into a void and forever changes Viktors body and life without his consent because Jayce thought it would fix him. Very powerful as a disabled plot line of able bodied people doing things to a disabled body in order to 'fix' them, but gets even more powerful with Viktor being ace. An allo character does something to an ace characters body without their consent, forever changing their life, because they thought it would 'fix' them is an allegory for corrective rape. It's corrective rape. Don't ship Viktor with his allegorical rapist.

So those are my issues. I've talked to a few ppl about it, my roommate included. They know my opinion on it, just not the details cause he has a habit of crying his eyes out whenever he's criticized and I don't have the energy to deal with a grown man bawling his eyes out all the time.

The only thing I've ever said to him was an argument we got in where he said that making Viktor ace was infantalizing disabled bodies and I got pissed at him and he cried

Today, my roommate decided to show me and 2 friends of ours fanart of Jayvik, with the weird size dynamic and Jayce carrying Viktor around and I said 'how is that not infantalizing but him being ace is?'

My roommate agreed, and then I started talking about how that, and the allegorical rape, made it awful to ship Jayce and Viktor and I said 'leave the aces alone, we don't ask a lot'.

Tell me why he shut down and then began crying, so I left the room cause I'm not apologizing for telling him to keep his aphobia in check, and when I came back he left and hasn't said a word since.

Tell me why I have to shut up when he says it's funny to see attractive characters as sexless cause its an inherently humiliating quality, that making someone disabled asexual is infantalizing and gross, that the few ace characters there are are definitely fucking each other cause they're human, when he says aphobic things 10 times a day, but he gets to cry when I call him out on that?

Plus now I feel guilty cause my friends keep shooting me looks since I'm not apologizing, and when they started trying to placate him I was quiet other than to say 'not just about you, but like. Yeah' l

Why are allo people the way they are?

Edit: I've updated the tags to remove arcane and anti Jayvik, ppl were right that I shouldn't have added them to begin with. In my defense for anti Jayvik, I didn't know u needed hyphens in tags now for it to work properly, I'm not really active on tumblr these days. Secondly, Just so y'all know. I don't feel like arguing with allo people anymore cause I spend so much of my time catering to allo people. If you're upset, don't read. If u comment upset about me being pissed at allo people for an opinion that I'm objectively correct on, I will be blocking you immediately cause that's how the internet works. Don't like, don't engage. Leave me alone, this is a vent post cause I'm sick of allo people being stupid Third, not claiming that this is my roommate being aphobic. Of all the things he's done, this is one of the least aphobic, it's just still frustrating. This post is mostly because he can't take any criticism on anything without crying and it's irritating, especially when I call him out on questionable behaviour. Fourth, do NOT try to educate me, a fucking aroace person, on aroace terminology and realities. I am aware that not all ace ppl are aro and that not all aro ppl are ace and that ace ppl and aro ppl both can date and fuck. I know that shit. That's not what this is about. Fuck off. Fifthly, no I have not watched arcane, I say that so early on in the original part of this post. I will not watch arcane, this post isn't really about arcane. It's a vent post about my roommate not being able to handle me pointing out that their mindset and the way they view things is aphobic. This is not an attack of arcane, it's an attack of people refusing to listen to aroace ppl when we raise concerns. Such as a number of ppl in the comments did within an hour of me posting this. Lastly, I'm not saying you can't ship JayVik, do whatever you fucking want. I'm saying that I have issues with it as a ship, and I am irritated at my roommate for immediately crying and running off when I tried to raise my concerns and opinions on the relationship, the concerns I have coming from the place of an aroace person who is fed up with them being blatantly aphobic in other contexts and things that they say. Update TL;DR: Don't like? Don't read, don't engage. Not for you. If you try to argue with me, you will be blocked cause I don't have time for that shit. This is a vent post, not an attack on fucking anyone and the opinion of one random tumblr user has no affect on you or your favourite show. There are more important things to yell at ppl for.

[ask-unpleasant]

hey chat sorry for the month of inactivity. i was unmotivated to do anything with this blog

but then i looked at some of the art on here and realized that i just lost my love for the character designs. so you know how we're gonna fix that? we're redesigning some characters bayybeeee 😈

starting with the man the myth the legend, here is UNPLEZZIE 2.0

he's probably the only one i had genuine problems with other than not being very aesthetically pleasing. he seemed too boring, his proportions were always a bit wonky, and the way he became more and more simple the more i drew him dumbed him down to just...awkward.

for this redesign, i kept all the features that made him my unpleasant. the only really signature thing i changed was his hair, sorry not sorry he had to fire his barber. i changed his scars to be far less opaque as to not clutter him up (which was the main reason i left them out most of the time), the only drawback is that i'm no longer just scribbling them in with a brush, they're actual geometry, so i cut back on the arms just for my own sake. also his tail now looks (and acts) like an actual docked tail.

next is the QSWX GVCTXMG AMXLSYX VIEPPC FIMRK GVCTXMG GLEVEGXIV SJ XLI CIEV, here is CREEPY 2.0

creepy was probably my least favorite character to draw. its head shape with the hair that always ends off screen, the 4 arms, the lack of any real way to move visible, it has always been a mess of a character. don't get me wrong, creepy is my second favorite character to write for (beaten only by neuro), i love its personality and its inflection, i just never got the chance to show that because i hated drawing it so much.

so for the redesign, i've basically reimagined it. its face hair now has an actual definitive ending, it has a more unique shape, and is just much more expunged-friendly in my opinion. it looks even more like its mom now...

next is this one, i thought she was american. here's PARANORMAL 2.0

i'm gonna be totally honest i have no idea what i was doing when designing para for the first time. that outfit was 100% subconsciously stolen from some other character i can't think of right now. it also really just didn't fit her character at all. also i dont know why i gave her boobs???? what????

anyways for the redesign she's basically a whole new design now. i wanted to play with some shape language. also, para always had a sort of inhuman quality to me, despite her personality, so i've given her inverted eyes and some animalistic features. i guess it adds irony or something, i dunno.

and finally, the moment GERIATRIC CAT you've all been waiting for, UNNERVING 2.0

in truth nervy's design is my favorite. the only gripe i had is the lack of legs, like with creepy. also i had to give her one of the same pride flag ass gradient as the rest so she'd fit in with the rest. other than all that i love her she is perfect just the way she is with minor adjustments

that's all the redesigns done!! i only did these 4 because stabby is not mine to redesign and NEURO is perfect just the way it is. feel free to give me any constructive criticism for these redesigns, i can always tweak em a bit. also the more stripy gradients wont a pattern that follows the contours of the body but rather just unmoving plaid always. i hope this lengthy yap sesh contributed something to something, maybe gave some insight into my characters.

and if you got this far i put a public discord server link in the intro post. you dont gotta ask anymore. dont tell anyone....shhh....*lovingly puts my finger on your lips* *smirks* *bolts away* *gets hit by truck* *instantly fatal*

[soisaidfine]

'The Oak Tree. Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?' - Orlando, Virginia Woolf

@vacillator: 'seeing old florida and my favorite grove of live oaks under a blanket of snow has been the most surreal experience of my life'

vacillator: 'haven’t slept in 48 hours, thinking about oak trees'

Audiobook: Pippa Nixon reads Orlando by Virginia Woolf. Penguin Classics Audiobooks. Available on Audible. 8 hours.

"Braced and strung up by the present moment she was also strangely afraid, as if whenever the gulf of time gaped and let a second through some unknown danger might come with it. The tension was too relentless and too rigorous to be endured long without discomfort. She walked more briskly than she liked, as if her legs were moved for her, through the garden and out into the park. Here she forced herself, by a great effort, to stop by the carpenter’s shop, and to stand stock-still watching Joe Stubbs fashion a cart wheel. She was standing with her eye fixed on his hand when the quarter struck. It hurtled through her like a meteor, so hot that no fingers can hold it. She saw with disgusting vividness that the thumb on Joe’s right hand was without a finger nail and there was a raised saucer of pink flesh where the nail should have been. The sight was so repulsive that she felt faint for a moment, but in that moment’s darkness, when her eyelids flickered, she was relieved of the pressure of the present. There was something strange in the shadow that the flicker of her eyes cast, something which (as anyone can test for himself by looking now at the sky) is always absent from the present — whence its terror, its nondescript character — something one trembles to pin through the body with a name and call beauty, for it has no body, is as a shadow without substance or quality of its own, yet has the power to change whatever it adds itself to. This shadow now, while she flickered her eye in her faintness in the carpenter’s shop, stole out, and attaching itself to the innumerable sights she had been receiving, composed them into something tolerable, comprehensible. Her mind began to toss like the sea. Yes, she thought, heaving a deep sigh of relief, as she turned from the carpenter’s shop to climb the hill, I can begin to live again. I am by the Serpentine, she thought, the little boat is climbing through the white arch of a thousand deaths. I am about to understand . . .

Those were her words, spoken quite distinctly, but we cannot conceal the fact that she was now a very indifferent witness to the truth of what was before her and might easily have mistaken a sheep for a cow, or an old man called Smith for one who was called Jones and was no relation of his whatever. For the shadow of faintness which the thumb without a nail had cast had deepened now, at the back of her brain (which is the part furthest from sight), into a pool where things dwell in darkness so deep that what they are we scarcely know. She now looked down into this pool or sea in which everything is reflected — and, indeed, some say that all our most violent passions, and art and religion, are the reflections which we see in the dark hollow at the back of the head when the visible world is obscured for the time. She looked there now, long, deeply, profoundly, and immediately the ferny path up the hill along which she was walking became not entirely a path, but partly the Serpentine; the hawthorn bushes were partly ladies and gentlemen sitting with card-cases and gold-mounted canes; the sheep were partly tall Mayfair houses; everything was partly something else, as if her mind had become a forest with glades branching here and there; things came nearer, and further, and mingled and separated and made the strangest alliances and combinations in an incessant chequer of light and shade. Except when Canute, the elk-hound, chased a rabbit and so reminded her that it must be about half past four — it was indeed twenty-three minutes to six — she forgot the time.

The ferny path led, with many turns and windings, higher and higher to the oak tree, which stood on the top. The tree had grown bigger, sturdier, and more knotted since she had known it, somewhere about the year 1588, but it was still in the prime of life. The little sharply frilled leaves were still fluttering thickly on its branches. Flinging herself on the ground, she felt the bones of the tree running out like ribs from a spine this way and that beneath her. She liked to think that she was riding the back of the world. She liked to attach herself to something hard. As she flung herself down a little square book bound in red cloth fell from the breast of her leather jacket — her poem ‘The Oak Tree’. ‘I should have brought a trowel,’ she reflected. The earth was so shallow over the roots that it seemed doubtful if she could do as she meant and bury the book here. Besides, the dogs would dig it up. No luck ever attends these symbolical celebrations, she thought. Perhaps it would be as well then to do without them. She had a little speech on the tip of her tongue which she meant to speak over the book as she buried it. (It was a copy of the first edition, signed by author and artist.) ‘I bury this as a tribute,’ she was going to have said, ‘a return to the land of what the land has given me,’ but Lord! once one began mouthing words aloud, how silly they sounded! She was reminded of old Greene getting upon a platform the other day comparing her with Milton (save for his blindness) and handing her a cheque for two hundred guineas. She had thought then, of the oak tree here on its hill, and what has that got to do with this, she had wondered? What has praise and fame to do with poetry? What has seven editions (the book had already gone into no less) got to do with the value of it? Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice? So that all this chatter and praise and blame and meeting people who admired one and meeting people who did not admire one was as ill suited as could be to the thing itself — a voice answering a voice. What could have been more secret, she thought, more slow, and like the intercourse of lovers, than the stammering answer she had made all these years to the old crooning song of the woods, and the farms and the brown horses standing at the gate, neck to neck, and the smithy and the kitchen and the fields, so laboriously bearing wheat, turnips, grass, and the garden blowing irises and fritillaries?

So she let her book lie unburied and dishevelled on the ground, and watched the vast view, varied like an ocean floor this evening with the sun lightening it and the shadows darkening it. There was a village with a church tower among elm trees; a grey domed manor house in a park; a spark of light burning on some glass-house; a farmyard with yellow corn stacks. The fields were marked with black tree clumps, and beyond the fields stretched long woodlands, and there was the gleam of a river, and then hills again. In the far distance Snowdon’s crags broke white among the clouds; she saw the far Scottish hills and the wild tides that swirl about the Hebrides. She listened for the sound of gun-firing out at sea. No — only the wind blew. There was no war to-day. Drake had gone; Nelson had gone. ‘And there’, she thought, letting her eyes, which had been looking at these far distances, drop once more to the land beneath her, ‘was my land once: that Castle between the downs was mine; and all that moor running almost to the sea was mine.’ Here the landscape (it must have been some trick of the fading light) shook itself, heaped itself, let all this encumbrance of houses, castles, and woods slide off its tent-shaped sides. The bare mountains of Turkey were before her. It was blazing noon. She looked straight at the baked hill-side. Goats cropped the sandy tufts at her feet. An eagle soared above. The raucous voice of old Rustum, the gipsy, croaked in her ears, ‘What is your antiquity and your race, and your possessions compared with this? What do you need with four hundred bedrooms and silver lids on all your dishes, and housemaids dusting?’

At this moment some church clock chimed in the valley. The tent-like landscape collapsed and fell. The present showered down upon her head once more, but now that the light was fading, gentlier than before, calling into view nothing detailed, nothing small, but only misty fields, cottages with lamps in them, the slumbering bulk of a wood, and a fan-shaped light pushing the darkness before it along some lane. Whether it had struck nine, ten, or eleven, she could not say. Night had come — night that she loved of all times, night in which the reflections in the dark pool of the mind shine more clearly than by day. It was not necessary to faint now in order to look deep into the darkness where things shape themselves and to see in the pool of the mind now Shakespeare, now a girl in Russian trousers, now a toy boat on the Serpentine, and then the Atlantic itself, where it storms in great waves past Cape Horn. She looked into the darkness." ...

. . .

@mothercain: "The Consequence of Audience

As I went there through the long, long wood, I felt no-thing and I was no-thing and I was at ease. The grey ash trees and their mottled plumage were as one with each other, curving and branching to form a ceiling overhead. There was wide separation between trunks, creating vast corridors stretching off in all directions before me, behind me, all around me. O, what praise I could sing of that never-ending dusk fall I spent between those oaks! None came with me, none came upon me, for I was alone and I was at ease. Yet came the day the trees broke, the corridor ended, and I was thrust upon the rocky expanse that was the Great Dark. There I saw first face and heard footstep, few and far between, but I was no longer alone. It was a shameful deed to carry these two naked hands as they clenched hotly, now in full display for all to see. I had never noticed them in the wood, for I was at ease. Here, the taut skin seemed to stretch and sweat, almost glowing, as if exasperated of their own grip. For as I wandered the Great Dark, there was not but grey, barren rock as far as any eye could see. It did make a passerby out of an observer. I saw them trudge by, fingers dipped into their open mouths desperate for wetness, the lolled tongue. There, in the wood, I was the watcher, but here I am nothing but displacing air. Yet, within the smothering toil of my apathy, I had heard the bell. Murmur of God between their slick, bent fingers ruffled the hair on the back of my neck. My muscles groaned against the weight of the skin around them, aching to be set loose. All at once, I saw, from where I stood, there rose a great dome atop a hill on the horizon before me. Yes, I saw it there with mine own two eyes! The white exterior peered at me with flat orifices obscured through the mist, barely distinguishable from the dark sky behind it, as though all the world beyond the dome was cut from the same slab, only slightly effaced. The convex roof sat atop a disk, held up by great ionic pillars circling the temple. Steps radiated out and down the slope, like ripples in a pond escaping a dropped stone. It was greater than life, greater than the wood, greater than all else which filled this dark, and my gullible delight was that it was all mine. Yes, all mine! One could follow me to it but they could not follow me in. My hands stretched outwards with an audible cracking in the bone as I crept forward there. I could not tell you the rest. I would not even attempt, for it would change no-thing. To know if I did go completely naked into the theater of the divine. If I did need for no-thing, want for no-thing. If I was then full to the brim, cylindrical pull slid through my gaping jaw into my endless throat. If I saw it there, shimmering through the veil like pearlescent oil over crystal water. If it heard me singing with every atom that formed me, through every orifice and wound I had, polytonal in my begging for it to complete me with the fifth. If it looked into me, saw how I needed to know what God knows and to be with him. If it spoke back to me in flat dissonance, “how couldn’t ye?” It would be of no good to speak these things to you. In what way I was still returned to the ground, even if beneath it, intact with my puerile need to repeat my-self and my mistakes. Who would not climb the wall for a peer over the edge? The cautionary tale is the fool’s errand, and I am no fool. I am as my hands are; twisting in on themselves and bursting at the seams. I can-not contain the ache for sensation, just as I could not contain the grief as I fell, nor the agony as I crawled my way back to this rocky countryside, and lo! I am on my way there again now. I am, I am, I am! But I will not tell you the visceral details, as you already know them. You all do. It’s happening to every-body."

. . .

mothercain-deactivated20231124: dark oak brown, potato sack beige, faded paper yellow, rust red…… the color palette of earth and age is what i use to paint my life…….. yep……..

. . .

'a voice answering a voice', new song by ethel cain, make room in hell:

[totowlff]

the encounter

➝ a painting, an agent and a crime. sounds good, no?

➝ word count: 3,9k

➝ warnings: descriptions of crimes, reader being clumsy

➝ author’s note: i finally felt safe enough to post this story. it's a more or less alternative universe, since it has some real things (i'd love to know your bets). hope you like it.

It was an ugly, gloomy day in Vienna, and you found yourself sitting in the cafe you tended to frequent these days. As far as anybody knew, and as far as you told anybody, it was a nice place to come and work during the day, so almost every day for the past few weeks, you sat in your usual seat by the window and sipped coffee as you ostensibly worked on something important on your laptop. As far as anybody asked, the cafe was comfortable enough and it was fairly close to your apartment, and you simply weren’t quite as productive when you were working at home. That’s what you told people, along with the fact that you worked in finance.

You weren’t working on anything at the moment, because your mind was elsewhere, and your eyes were fixed on something across the street from the cafe. You were staring at an old antique shop, with a dark green facade and gold lettering across its front window. You were watching the people inside, talking animatedly, trying to imagine what they were speaking about.

— Maria — you heard someone say. The name was familiar, after all, that was the name that was listed in the identity documents that your boss handed to you in a manila envelope a few weeks earlier, along with an investigation report. Hearing the name brought you back to when he was briefing you on the operation, which had been named “Królowa”, a reference to the object of the investigation. You had been assigned to search for information on a triptych painted by the Polish master painter, Jan Matejko, that depicted a procession accompanying the Virgin Mary and the Baby Jesus to a cathedral in Kraków.  

The triptych was considered a lost Polish national treasure, stolen from its most recent owner during the Nazi occupation. Previous investigations into its whereabouts dragged on for years, buried in the files of the Europol, based in The Hague, in the Netherlands. When you started working there, almost a decade earlier, the case was stuck on a cold lead about the piece's last owner, Count Hieronim Tarnowski, a Polish aristocrat.

The last documented whereabouts of the triptych was within Montelupi Palace in Kraków, which was owned by the Tarnowski family. However, the palace and all of its contents were expropriated by Nazi command in 1942, before the interior of the Palace was consumed by fire. From then on, there was nothing further documented about the of the painting. It and some other cultural treasures seized by the Nazis were long considered lost by the Polish government and Europol. That is, until one day, you found something that made you dig deeper into the case.

You were doing some research for another art theft case when you found an open thread about Matejko on an art forum. While you were reading praise for the painter's work, you came across a photo posted by a user called Piter1974 that caught your attention.

It was a photo of the triptych, clearly taken with a modern camera given the quality and colors of the image. They contrasted sharply with the images attached to the investigation that you had as reference, which had been taken from pre-war catalogs. The only existing photos of the work were all in black-and-white, taken with early 20th century cameras. You did some cursory checking on the authenticity of the image, and didn't hesitate to print it out. You placed it on your boss’ desk with an air of confidence. 

— What is that? — your boss, a burly, perpetually grumpy Frenchman named Romeo, asked.

— It’s Matejko’s triptych.

He looked unconvinced as he cocked an eyebrow. 

— Came to show me your Photoshop skills? The colors look nice, but…

— I didn't color this photo.

Romeo blinked.

— Do you mean…

— It's a recent image — you said, proudly — The EXIF data shows that it was taken on October 6, 2022.

— Where did you find this?

— On an internet forum. A user posted this in a discussion thread about Jan Matejko's works.

— You…

— It’s not AI or Photoshop. I checked, Romeo — you replied, smiling — The triptych still exists!

Your discovery led to the case being reopened, with the image being examined pixel-by-pixel for any inconsistencies, and your findings being verified. The EXIF data buried in the picture not only showed the date, but it showed what kind of camera the image had been taken by, which was a high-end professional model popular with archivists and museum curators for taking high-quality images suitable for cataloging. 

You felt frustration wash over you. The trail seemed to have gone cold again, after all, how many art galleries were there in the world? It was like you were looking for a needle in a haystack.

But again, fortune smiled on you. While analyzing an old catalog of Jan Matejko's works written by a Polish author, you came across new information about the triptych's whereabouts. According to the catalog’s author, after being confiscated by the Nazis, the triptych briefly reappeared in the 1960s, in the inventory of a well-known antiques shop in central Vienna. Your relief was short-lived when you saw the name of the shop’s owner. 

“Of course Bednarczyk is involved in this”, you thought to yourself, letting out a long sigh.

Czesław Bednarczyk was an old acquaintance of the Polish justice system. He had been a notorious smuggler, taking vast amounts of Poland’s cultural treasures and gold abroad, most of it to be sold in his antique shop in central Vienna, on the Dorotheergasse. 

Despite the mountain of evidence against him, the antiquarian never faced justice for his crimes, nor did his reputation within the art world suffer. When he died in the late 90s, the funeral was attended by great figures from the industry, all paying their respects to the patriarch's family, who worked to preserve his legacy to this very day. 

Bednarczyk's antique shop was taken over by his eldest daughter, Elisabeth. She was known for being one of the leading experts on Viennese porcelain, which kept her from being a major suspect. However, you thought, that didn't mean the place couldn't be involved in some way, as other Matejko pieces had been sold by the Bednarczyks over the years. And so, you went to Vienna with a false identity and a single objective: find the triptych.

After arriving in the city and settling into the apartment that would be your base, you tried to investigate the surroundings of Dorotheergasse, the narrow lane where the antique shop was located. In short order, you found the perfect place to monitor movements in and out of the shop without raising any suspicion — a cafe next to the Jewish Museum across the street. — Maria — the voice repeated, making you wake up from your thoughts. You glanced over your shoulder, finding the friendly smile of Kristina, the cafe's barista — Is everything okay?

— Yes, everything’s fine — you replied quickly, fumbling to hide the fact that you had forgotten that was the name you’d given to the waitress — Why?

— Oh, you… Called me over to place your order, but when I asked you what you wanted, you didn't say anything...

You felt your own cheeks heat up.

— Sorry, Kristina, I was distracted…

— By the antique shop?

You were apparently being too obvious. You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

— Well, no… Not exactly…

— Oh, I’m not surprised.  — Kristina laughed — When you said you had just moved to an apartment nearby, I sort of figured you had an eye for art and antiques.

— But, how?

The barista chuckled.

— I mean, you’ve seen the kind of people that come in here. It’s only old people or people that are crazy about art, and you’re obviously not old.

You smiled, trying to hide your discomfort at feeling so transparent.

— I do like art — you lied — My parents had a lot of pieces at home, like sculptures, porcelain...

— Oh, that shop has a ton of those things.

You raised your eyebrow. 

— Have you ever been inside?

— Yes. I got curious about it and went after work one day.

— Did you talk to anyone there?

Kristina was clearly taken aback by your interest.

— Oh, yes, I talked to a man, he…

— Alexander? — you asked, taking a few seconds to realize that, in your eagerness to find out more about the Bednarczyks, you were close to showing your hand.

— No, his name was something else — she replied, with suspicion on her face — Who’s Alexander? 

In truth, you knew that Elisabeth had a son named Alexander. According to the case’s dossier, he was a specialist in contemporary art and responsible for numerous sales of works to foreign galleries and museums. If the triptych had left the antique shop heading abroad, it likely would have passed through Alexander's hands.

— Well, like I said, my parents like art and I remembered they bought a few pieces from a shop in Vienna run by a man named Alexander — you said, trying to cover your tracks  — I thought it could be him, but I think it's unlikely, come to think of it. After all, how many art and antique shops are in a city this size, right?

After staring at you for a few seconds, Kristina smiled.

— Unlikely, maybe, but not impossible. I imagine the art world isn’t a very big one, after all. 

You went back to focusing on the antique shop. You had noticed some movement near the door and you were trying to pay attention to whoever was leaving, when Kristina cleared her throat.

— Yeah? — you muttered.

— Do you still want something?

Looking at the table, you noticed that your espresso cup was empty, as was the plate full of crumbs from the chocolate cake you had devoured after lunch.

— I think another espresso — you replied. With a nod Kristina walked away from your table, while you looked again at the door of the antique shop as two blonde women came out of the shop’s door. Both of them were talking animatedly and had boxes in their hands.

Just then, you’d decided you’d spent enough time over the past few weeks watching and waiting — you had to see what was inside. 

The next day, the plan was already drawn up in your head. You would go into another antique shop in a different part of Vienna and buy something made of porcelain, something that seemed to be antique. And then, you would go into the Bednarczyk’s shop to try and have it appraised. It belonged to your mother, you would tell them, and you wanted to find out what they could tell you about it and see if it could be restored. Anything to buy more time.

You’d let the staff at the shop talk to you, you knew what questions to ask to not seem like you knew nothing about the pieces, but what to avoid asking to not show that you knew too much. While you were talking to them, whoever they were, you would try to work in a way to ask about any Matejko pieces they knew of.

Your plan was hastily arranged, but it seemed like it should be perfect.

You found another antique shop in Ottakring, across the city, and bought the first porcelain piece you spotted that you knew was old enough to seem like a treasured family heirloom. You thought it would be a good idea to stop by the cafe first and have an espresso to settle your nerves before heading into Bednarczyk’s.

You walked down the street to the direction of the antique store with the box containing the little sculpture in your hands, confident this would be a big step forward in the investigation of the tryptich’s whereabouts. 

As you were glancing toward the shop’s entryway, you let your attention slip for a moment, crashing into the back of the man who was walking ahead of you. The box in your hand slipped and fell toward the ground, the muffled tinkling of shattering porcelain coming from inside the box. You immediately sank to the ground and lifted the flaps on the top of the box.

— No, no, no, fuck — you said, seeing the ballerina you bought reduced to a pile of shards.

— Shit — the man said from above you. When you looked up, you realized that you had stumbled into a man with dark hair and brown eyes, who were fixed on what was once a small porcelain statue — I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming in behind me…

— No, it's okay — you murmured, trying to hide your displeasure at having broken the piece. You had chosen the porcelain ballerina precisely because you knew that it was old enough to be of interest to Elisabeth. However, you couldn’t exactly get her to appraise a pile of dust — Isn’t a big deal...

— From your reaction, it seemed like something important — the man said, as you closed the box quickly and stood up — I’m so sorry. I hope it wasn’t a family heirloom.

You looked up at him, pressing your lips together as you realized how tall he was. “Focus… Maria”, you thought to yourself, feeling your face heat up. You couldn't let your cover identity slip.

— Yeah, it was. I had brought it to see if there was somewhere that could appraise it, maybe restore it, but… I don’t think there’s much to be done about it now.

Looking at the box, the man seemed to think for a few seconds, before looking up at you again.

— Well, if you want, I can find something else to give you instead. I’ll pay for it.

— I don’t… 

— That won't replace the sentimental value, no, but it's the least I can do, considering your little ballerina is broken because of me.

You hesitated for a few seconds. You didn’t want to involve another person in your investigation, especially an innocent bystander that made you feel a strange heat in your chest and a strange flush in your cheeks. However, before you realized it, you were following him down the street, the box with the porcelain shards in your hands, into the front door of the Bednarczyks' antique shop.

He opened the door and motioned politely for you to walk in first, which you did, unable to hide the shy smile on your face. The man closed the door behind him as you approached one of the shelves. It was stocked with a huge assortment of miscellaneous knicknacks - silver candelabras, ceramic vases, sets of different glasses and jars, all polished and carefully arranged. Your eyes landed on a velvet box on one of the middle shelves, and you couldn’t resist the compulsion to step forward and carefully tilt open the lid, trying to see what was inside.

— It's a set of silver flatware — a female voice said behind you. You turned around with a start to see a short, blonde woman with kind brown eyes staring at you. She smiled — Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Mr. Wolff asked me to come assist you.

— Mr. Wolff? — you asked, confused.

— The gentleman who came in with you.

You were still confused, wondering how she knew the other customer’s name. 

— By any chance — you started, stopping when you felt someone touch you shoulder.

— Ah, you found Petra, excellent — the man, apparently Mr. Wolff, said — Petra, could you show us the porcelain?

The woman nodded and directed you to another set of shelves, chatting about , the woman guided you between the shelves, chatting about the store's new arrivals. However, your mind was occupied with trying to remember if you’d ever seen the name Wolff anywhere in the case files. The man seemed to be too familiar with the staff to be just another customer. You remembered reading about Elisabeth, her son, Alexander, and Alexander’s wife, Amy. However, you didn't remember any man with the surname Wolff.

— Here is our selection of porcelain. I'll leave you to choose what you would like — Petra said, with a smile.

— Thank you very much, Petra. As soon as we choose, we will call you.

With a nod, Petra walked away, leaving the two of you alone in front of the shelves filled with figurines, cups, teapots and porcelain vases. After a few seconds of silence, you finally looked at the man next to you.

— Mr. Wolff, is it? — you asked, the tone of your voice causing a smile to appear on his lips.

— Well, yes. Torger Wolff. But you can call me Toto.

Something about what he said made you smile.

— Toto, like the dog in The Wizard of Oz?

— I would say like Toto Rina, the Italian mafioso, but most people think of the dog first — Toto said, without taking his eyes off you — And you, what's your name?

You hesitated for a few seconds.

— Maria.

— Just Maria?

— Maria Bauer.

Toto chuckled.

— Ah, a fairly common name, no? — he asked. “It had to be something from the idiots in the operations department”, you thought to yourself, giving a wry smile.

— My parents weren’t the most creative…

— In my case, they were too creative — he said, looking at the shelf again — I suppose you’re not not from Vienna?

His question made you swallow hard.

— No, I'm not. I moved here not long ago. How did you know?

— Your accent — Toto replied — I'd say you're from the south, maybe. Graz?

— Klagenfurt — you said. That’s what was in your identity document. You hoped he wasn't familiar with the accent there, since you were sure that the Dutch and English you were used to speaking on a daily basis with your co-workers was present in the way you slurred some syllables.

— But you've lived abroad, haven't you?

— Why do you ask?

— Your accent doesn’t sound like a Southern accent. I have an acquaintance from near there, but his accent is a bit different. 

— My mother is Dutch — you lied, almost in an attempt to stop that interrogation — So, I grew up listening to her accent and ended up picking it up.

— Ah, yes, I understand — he said, giving a gentle smile.

Turning your attention to the shelf, you tried to focus on the china in front of you, trying to decide which piece would be the most similar to the one he had broken. Not that it mattered much, but one did catch your eye. It was a figure of two people - a man and a woman, sitting next to a column, with the woman holding a rose and the man holding a basket of flowers on his lap. It was romantic, and oddly endearing.— Did you like this one? — Toto asked.

— Yeah — you replied, your fingers brushing the top of the porcelain column, where there was a small hole to hold a few flowers  — It's very beautiful.

— I agree. 

— With such a renowned expert curating the collection, it's not surprising — you said, taking the porcelain figure in your hands.

— Oh, do you know of Elisabeth? — he asked. You glanced over to Toto to find that he had a curious expression, like something you said made an impression.

Maybe you’d already said too much.

You’d betrayed the fact that you were not from Vienna and had recently moved to the city, leaving you no acceptable excuse to explain how you knew who owned the shop you were in. It wasn’t as if she was well-known outside of very specific Viennese society and academic circles — No, I don't know her — you said, giggling nervously.

— So how do you know she curates the porcelains here?

— Well, like I said, I recently moved and I'm still cleaning up my apartment, so I'm working from the cafe across the street — you lied, trying to sound as calm as possible  — And, one day, I noticed the antique shop across the street and looked up some information about it online. My parents collect art - mostly these porcelain figures, so I thought I’d bring in one of their older pieces to have it appraised and restored, since she seemed like the best person to do it.

— Of course, the internet — he said, laughing — What's not on the internet nowadays, right?

— Right? You can find anything — you smiled, feeling your heart pounding. He seemed to buy it, but you couldn’t guarantee that you’d be so lucky next time. 

After asking if you liked the piece you were holding and calling Petra to confirm your choice, Toto asked you to stay there, before heading towards the counter at the back of the shop together with Petra.

Watching him talk to Petra, you started feeling guilty. You had only just met Toto and you already felt terrible about lying to him, which made you feel even worse, as feeling such strong emotions about telling lies was an occupational liability for you. But still, he had nothing to do with the investigation beyond knowing who Elisabeth was, and ostensibly frequenting her family’s antique shop. He certainly wasn’t a person of interest, so you could only conclude that he was one of her wealthy patrons. “He must be rich”, you thought, watching him scribble something on a piece of paper and hand it to Petra.

Perhaps, in other circumstances, you could get to know each other better. It was crazy, you thought, to be imagining a future with a man you knew nothing about and had just met mere moments ago, but you couldn’t help it as you looked at the way he smiled at you. It was a sweet, warm smile, and you’d never met anyone else you felt a connection with so immediately. It was the same smile he gave you once more as he handed you an elegant box that Petra had given him. “What a handsome son of a bitch”, you thought, giving him a small smile.

— Here — Toto said, handing you the box — I know it's not a one-for-one replacement, but it's my way of apologizing for the accident earlier.

— It’s no problem, really. You could very well have ignored what happened and kept walking, so…

— No, I don’t think that would have been — he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. That intensity of his gaze on you made your own cheeks feel hot.

— What do you mean by that? — you asked, giggling nervously.

— It would be impossible to ignore you — Toto said, seeming to realize the effect of his own words on you — I could never just walk past you.

The room filled with silence that stretched out long enough for you to think of a million scenarios in which you would end up with your lips pressed against his.

— Well, I'm going to take this home — you finally said, taking a brief look at the box — Thank you for your kindness, Toto.

— It was the least I could do, Maria — he replied with a smile, putting a peculiar emphasis on your name.

Giving one last wave, you turned around and left the antique shop feeling like you were floating. However, nothing compared to the feeling that came over you when you opened the box and found a note on the bubble wrap that surrounded the delicate piece of porcelain.

— I'd love to see how it looks on your shelf — you read quietly, realizing that Toto had written his phone number below his message while Petra was wrapping the figurine.

You dug into your purse and pulled out your phone, but started feeling guilty again. You were in Vienna for work, not to flirt with strangers. You were dealing with dangerous people and getting involved with more people meant additional risk, not only for them, but for you and your career.

“Well… one photo of my bookshelf probably won’t hurt anyone”, you thought, before saving the number on your cell phone.

[megapatty2006]

MY HAZBIN HOTEL REDESIGNS!!

(Part one)

Heya, So I actually had some Hazbin hotel redesign I made months ago but NEVER posted. And it's about time I do that lol, though as a warning the art is kinda mixed in quality and I'll also be ranking each of my drawings from 1 to 10 in my opinion kinda stuff lol. By the way as a repeat, these are MY OPINION also if anybody comments, DONT ROAST ME COMPLETELY I MADE THESE DURING A BUSY TIME.

Charlie: 10/10

-THE EARS AAAAAAA-

-I like how its different but still relatively basic the design is.

-overall 10/10, one of my personal favorites.

Vaggie: 1/10

(First design)

-nothing interesting about it

-bland

-literally almost Identical to the original design

-overall 1/10, it sucks.

Niffty: 10/10

-its honestly not that much different from the original design, just more "detailed"

-bug features, ooo

-overall, 10/10, me likey

Angel: 7/10

-for the most part it's alright

-still confused why I added neck fluff...or whatever it's even supposed to be

-face kinda ehhh

-overall 7/10,

Husk: 9/10

-BRO GOT BACK SHIRT PRIVLAGES

-nearly perfect to me, the symbols on the wings just get to me ya know?

-overall I really like, 9/10

Alastor: 8/10

-THE GREEN...MWAH

-Basic design but still works good

-The only thing holding it back was the eyes, I swear, every time I try to fix them it only somehow comes out worse.

-overall 8/10, nice

Sir Pentious: 8/10

-the first redesign

-OLD MAN

-kinda wacky and unorganized

-Steampunk and other junk

-VERY different color scheme

-overall 8/10, wacky old man

Katie Killjoy: 5/10

-Heavily inspired by Bryce Tankthrust

-poor tom

-tried to do something and make her kinda camera themed

-overall kinda bland and boring, 5/10

Vox: 6/10

-I'm VERY mixed on this design

-tried to make him a bit more in line with the 50s

-scarf is a gift from Al

-"BRING ME PICTURES OF SPIDERMAN" ah mustache

-overall 6/10, could be higher but just ehhh

Lucifer: 8/10

-SNAKE TAIL

-More in line with "ringleader"

-overall I really like it, 8/10

Now unfortunately I can only fit 10 photos in a Tumblr post so I'll make a part 2 where I rank the last two designs I did lol

[shiyorin]

#Konrad will kill me when he sees this, but who cares :v

#A little NSFW, I think that. Konrad x Reader

#Get inspired by this adorable art

#Ehehehehe

"I require a fresh genetic sample, Lord Primarch. Place your tongue here upon this pad, if you would be so kind." 

Konrad scoffed at this bureaucratic tedium but complied. He took the offered slate between clawed gauntlets, fixing it with a stare. Then slowly, deliberately, he extended a long, serpentine tongue to swipe its gleaming surface. Again and again he lapped at the metal, swiping his tongue in broad strokes across the datapad with practiced nonchalance. His saliva activated sequenced markers, uploading a torrent of genetic code for later perusal. 

You cleared your throat, unsettled by this change. "That will suffice, my lord. If you please, the data-pad." 

Konrad paused, running his tongue along razor-sharp fangs in a manner almost...teasing? He held out the slate, close enough that you had to lean nearer still to reclaim it.

You extended your hand, expecting prompt compliance. What you received instead was another long, slow lick across fingers and palm, Konrad's eyes never leaving your own. A frisson ran through your body, wholly inappropriate given the circumstances.

"Another sample, is it? Very well." And with that, he drew your palm between his lips to suckle deeply, darting looks up at you through dark lashes all the while. Slow tongue darting out to trace whorls and lines with lingering thoroughness

"My lord..." You said at last, tugging your hand gently free, or attempting to. Konrad held fast, laving attention now to each fingertip, nipping lightly at their sensitive tips. His ministrations, while thorough, held an indolent quality, as if he savored drawing out your discomfort.

"I believe that fulfills your... request," he purred, rising in one fluid motion and taking his leave without another word. You sat trembling, data pad forgotten, torn between confused and something far more illicit. 

Bonus:

You: Sharing saliva spreads over 100 pathogens, my lord. Did you know the average mouth houses streptococcus, e. coli, staph and more? Not to mention what lurks under those claw-like nails.

Konrad: I don't care and I will do it again.

[cleoenfaserum]

CUT IT SHORT with SHORT FILMS (1300)

Short films are favorite movies of mine without caring on the genre as are written short stories. For the sake of argument, lets say It emulates the type of world we live in, FAST and FURIOUS on a short fuse. However, I follow the Spanish saying (lo bueno y breve, dos veces bueno), that is, what is good and brief, doubly good or twice good. I have brought you several short films. Whatever you make of them, they are excellent pieces of work, I consider them a work of art.

My first story is about Nelly, a girl who locks her mother out or locks herself in, her house on her ninth birthday and starts posting videos on her moms phone on the internet. As the mom attempts to get inside the house, all her attempts fail, the video content becomes increasingly threatening as public services, police, fireman, etc intervene as locksmith was unable to open the doors.

The director: Jonas Steinacker Nelly's Story (2022)

I lived through a similar scenario, however not so dramatic, when my daughter was 4 years old. A neighbor called at the house in the building I live on the ninth floor. My wife and I at that time were the building's community secretary. A neighbor called at our door asking us to look at something in the hall on the same floor that he thought needed fixing. My wife and I went to see what it was when my four year old daughter slammed the door on us and neither of us had the key to open the door. We used the neighbors phone, called a lock smith, explained and he quickly came over, opened the door, we thanked and paid him, all the while my wife is calming and hugging my daughter. They were anguishing moment but more or less under control. So I can easily relay with the story.

link https://youtu.be/EbcEFMp8xl0 source ladydedlock origin Aug 2 Nelly's Story, a very powerful short film about kid influencers by Jonas Steinacker (subtitles are available). Nelly's Story, an Austrian short story with subtitles directed by Jonas Steinacker produced in 2023.

My next is so crazy that nothing made any sense to me ...

link https://youtu.be/BF8kYYqWiOE source junkyarddemento origin Aug 2

Leaning on sex, style, and tech this cool animated short falls somewhere between MTV's Liquid Television, anime, and THE MATRIX in a neo-dystopian world. Since I hardly understood anything, I went to AI Copilot for help on the matter and here is the conversation that transpired:

Urbance (2015) is a visually striking animated short film created by Joël Dos Reis Viegas and Sébastien Larroudé. The film is set in a neo-dystopian world where sex is prohibited due to a deadly genetic virus. The story revolves around underground nightclubs where teenagers engage in dance battles and consume illegal substances to escape their harsh reality.

The creators, Joël Dos Reis Viegas and Sébastien Larroudé, are talented Canadian designers with experience in Hollywood films like X-Men: Days of Future Past and the Godzilla reboot. They aimed to blend Japanese anime influences with Western urban culture, resulting in a unique and edgy visual style1.

Despite its complex and somewhat chaotic narrative, Urbance has garnered attention for its bold vision and high-quality animation. It was initially funded through a successful Kickstarter campaign, raising over $200,000 Canadian dollars.

link https://youtu.be/X3ZeGx_xIQc source junkyarddemento origin Aug 7 Director Michael Rich Writer Michael Rich

THE QUEUE (2023) I'd give it the highest compliment I can pay to this film. It plays like an episode of a horror anthology series. The high production value and unique story, really help make it stand out from the standard haunted house or slasher fare one comes across online. It should come as no surprise that Michael Rich's film has had a successful film festival circuit run, gaining acclaim and awards. Give this a look if you want to watch a deeply dark yet interesting horror viewing experience!

[maypop-the-dragon]

PSA: Free Software

Reading this may really save your time, privacy, and money! Reblog or share to spread awareness!

Folks often use software that’s expensive and sometimes even inferior because they don’t know there are alternatives. So to those unfamiliar: basically, free and open-source (FOSS) or "libre" software is free to use and anyone can access the original code to make their own version or work on fixing problems.

That does not mean anyone can randomly add a virus and give it to everyone—any respectable libre project has checks in place to make sure changes to the official version are good! Libre software is typically developed by communities who really care about the quality of the software as a goal in itself.

There are libre alternatives to many well-known programs that do everything an average user needs (find out more under the cut!) for free with no DRM, license keys, or subscriptions.

Using libre software when possible is an easy way to fight against and free yourself from corporate greed while actually being more convenient in many cases! If you need an app to do something, perhaps try searching online for things like:

foss [whatever it is]

libre [whatever it is]

open source [whatever it is]

Feel free to recommend more libre software in the tags, replies, comments, or whatever you freaks like to do!

Some Libre Software I Personally Enjoy…

LibreOffice

LibreOffice is an office suite, much like Microsoft Office. It includes equivalents for apps like Word, Excel, and Powerpoint, which can view and edit files created for those apps.

I can't say I've used it much myself yet. I do not personally like using office software except when I have to for school.

OpenShot

OpenShot Video Editor is, as the name suggests, a video editing program. It has industry-standard features like splicing, layering, transitions, and greenscreen.

I've only made one video with it so far, but I'm already very happy with it. I had already paid for a video editor (Cyberlink PowerDirector Pro), but I needed to reinstall it and I didn't remember how. Out of desperation, I searched up "FOSS video editor" and I'm so glad I did. There's no launcher, there's no promotion of other apps and asset packs—it's just a video editor with a normal installer.

GIMP

GNU Image Manipulation Program is an image editor, much like Photoshop. Originally created for Linux but also available for Windows and MacOS, it provides plenty of functionality for editing images. It is a bit unintuitive to learn at first, though.

I've used it to create and modify images for years, including logos, really bad traceover art, and Minecraft textures. It doesn't have certain advanced tech like AI paint-in, but it has served my purposes well and it might just work for yours!

(Be sure to go to Windows > Dockable Dialogs > Colors. I have no idea why that's not enabled by default.)

Audacity

Audacity is an audio editing program. It can record, load, splice, and layer audio files and apply effects to them.

Audacity is another program I've used for a long time. It is not designed to compose music, but it is great for podcasts, simple edits, and loading legacy MS Paint to hear cool noises.

7-Zip

7-Zip is a file manager and archive tool. It supports many archive types including ZIP, RAR, TAR, and its own format, 7Z. It can view and modify the contents of archives, encrypt and decrypt archives, and all that good stuff.

Personally, I use 7-Zip to look inside JAR files for Minecraft reasons. I must admit that its UI is ugly.

Firefox

Firefox is an internet browser, much like Google Chrome, Microsoft Edge, or Safari. While browsers are free, many of them include tracking or other anti-consumer practices. For example, Google plans to release an update to Chromium (the base that most browsers are built from these days) that makes ad blockers less effective by removing the APIs they currently rely on.

Aside from fighting monopolies, benefits include: support for animated themes (the one in the picture is Purple Night Theme), good ad blockers forever, an (albeit hidden) compact UI option (available on about:config), and a cute fox icon.

uBlock Origin

As far as I know, uBlock Origin is one of the best ad blockers there is.

I was on a sketchy website with my brother, and he was using Opera GX's ad blocker. Much of the time when he clicked on anything, it would take us to a random sponsored page. I suggested that he try uBlock Origin, and with uBlock Origin, that didn't happen anymore.

Linux

Linux is a kernel, but the term is often used to refer to operating systems (much like Windows or MacOS) built on it. There are many different Linux-based operating systems (or "distros") to choose from, but apps made for Linux usually work on most popular distros. You can also use many normally Windows-only apps on Linux through compatibility layers like WINE.

I don't have all four of these, so the images are from Wikipedia. I tried to show a variety of Linux distros made for different kinds of users.

If you want to replace your operating system, I recommend being very careful because you can end up breaking things. Many computer manufacturers don't care about supporting Linux, meaning that things may not work (Nvidia graphic cards notoriously have issues on Linux, for example).

Personally, I tried installing Pop!_OS on a laptop, and the sound output mysteriously doesn't work. I may try switching to Arch Linux, since it is extremely customizable and I might be able to experiment until I find a configuration where the audio works.

Many Linux distros offer "Live USB" functionality, which works as both a demo and an installer. You should thoroughly test your distro on a Live USB session before you actually install it to be absolutely sure that everything works. Even if it seems fine, you should probably look into dual-booting with your existing operating system, just in case you need it for some reason.

Happy computering!

[crimsoncold]

Current thoughts on HOTD

(i.e. the disappointment, the choice not to hate watch the show, and my continued appreciation for the fandom itself)

So I'm admittedly done with the show itself... I can tolerate quite a bit of lackluster writing when I love the concept or certain characters enough- seriously I watched all of the original 9 seasons of the x files (+ the films) even when it had pretty much abandoned the monster of the week format I loved, got extremely convoluted in terms of its plot/conspiracies, and most of the original cast wasn't even around anymore- but sometimes a show declines in quality so much I'm too discouraged to want to continue watching.

S1 already had issues but the inconsistencies in plot/messages/characterization and the strange changes writer's have made to the source material in S2 all sort of converged to make a show that is ultimately not just generally disappointing but now is outright unimpressive and unwatchable (side note i feel so bad for the cast they're working their ass off and the writer's are just giving them literal garbage).

I'm just not a person who really enjoys hate watching stuff? Like no judgement if you want to continue watching or if you do choose to hate watch- do what makes you happy- it's just not something I personally would choose to spend my time on- if a show doesn't even interest me to begin with or nothing about a show makes me happy anymore I'm not going to watch it. (With many of the better shows out there getting unfortunately canceled so quickly I'd rather spend my time watching enjoyable shows while they are still around- I know I'm just one viewer and likely I make zero difference in the scheme of things but I just don't want to be part of a viewership that encourages studios to cancel well written but less popular shows and continue with the poorer quality shows because hate/outrage inspired so much viewership... I think it's just that this business practice pisses me off enough that I don't want to be a part of it or reminded of it)

So for HOTD I'm not personally continuing with the show I'm just going to rely on the braver souls in this fandom to show me how crazy things get - at this point it feels like for my sanity there is nothing left to do but laugh at how bad these showrunners are ruining their story/characters and otherwise just move on and watch other things.

When it comes to fandom side of things well I'll quote myself from a different hotd post for a moment..."disappointing or poorly written shows are not without their appeal for participating in fandom (i.e. making, viewing, or sharing the art, writing, metas, or other content inspired by the show) particularly when there is a handful of interesting characters (looking at you book/S1 HOTD's team green) that fans want to rescue from the terrible writing/butchering by the showrunners ... sometimes it is even one of the most appealing sort of set ups for fandom to take over and fix things."

So I will absolutely continue to appreciate the general efforts of HOTD fandom (writers, artists, gif makers, etc.) and I will continue to seek out/like/reblog/comment on fan works as well as the many well thought out/eloquent metas and write ups fans put out about this show.

To paraphrase once again from one of my other hotd post "The juxtaposition between how underwhelming and juvenile the showrunner's storytelling choices are compared to how eloquently fans interpret, analyze, deconstruct, criticize or even defend the show and it's characters is absolutely wild...a not insignificant amount of hotd fandom puts in more time, effort, and thought into hotd than ANY of the showrunners/writers."

While I was admittedly intrigued by select characters of hotd my desire and decision to participate in hotd fandom really came down to the amazing efforts of fans who analyzed the show, wrote incredible metas on it's characters, and who made their own transformative stories and art based on hotd.

So in conclusion I'm done with watching the show, I hate everything the showrunners are choosing to do (the audience deserved a better story/show), I feel so bad for the cast and wish the characters hadn't been massacred by these writers (Alicent, Aemond, Helaena, Aegon, and the rest of team green all deserved better writing, i.e. consistent and coherent characterization or you know getting time on screen/together in general, all characters deserved better than being reduced to props for this strange pro targ/pro Rhaenyra storyline the showrunners have made up, hell even Rhaenyra herself deserved better writing),

I will continue to think about the "what ifs" that come up around this ... (what this story and these characters could have become in the hands of better writers) and I will always still appreciate/comment on and reblog fandom efforts themselves (whether you continue to participate in hotd fandom or are done with it just know that even though the writer's suck and the show has just gotten worse and worse, and the few character's we liked are getting destroyed by the writing, I still admire everybody I encountered in the little niche of the hotd fandom I have participated and appreciate what you all contribute to hotd fandom.

AND I will continue my own little additions to said fandom-i still have hotd inspired art coming soon and while I'm done with the show itself I intend to steal away the shiny things I liked from hotd (certain intriguing characters and the possibilities that could have existed if this had been adapated better) and continue to enjoy them while I ignore the rest of the nonsense the showrunners have created.

- Crimson Cold

[fernsnailz]

hi fernsnailz, if you don’t mind me asking: how do I get over jealously as an artist? I try to go by the two cake principle but I always get jealous when I see more people eat someone else’s cake.

I was hoping you would have some advice cause you’re more experienced as an artist than I am

honestly, i'm not really sure if i have a solid answer for you because i also struggle a lot with jealousy as an artist and the two cakes principle. i mostly get jealous of other people's skill, and there are small things that help me - i use an extension that completely blocks all number analytics (likes, retweets, etc) on twitter so i don't focus on how "good" my art is doing compared to other artists. i save art i love from creators i admire into an inspiration tag here so i remember why i want to keep making stuff. i'm remembering how to make art for myself, not just for social media - not just a second cake.

envy is something that i'm learning to control and turn into inspiration, but personally i've never really found a way to get over it. for example i look up to so, so many storyboard artists, but often their incredible work makes me feel like i'll never be at that level and makes it hard to keep going - which is rough because. storyboarding is my job lol. my jealousy of other people's skill has kept me from creating stuff or joining projects that i'm really passionate about - which sucks! and it's not something i really know how to fix.

so while unfortunately i don't have much of a solution for you, i hope that i can give you this: every single artist i know has struggled with jealousy, and you're not alone. any artist you find yourself envious of is a person who is still learning and growing, same as you and same as me - no matter the skill gap or like count, they've also probably had problems with envy and self-worth at some point. and while the two cakes principle can help with this stuff, you shouldn't treat your work just as content for people to consume. that's your art! you made it, and that rules!! there's value in the mere act of creating something, no matter its quality or popularity. i don't know if the jealousy will ever go away, but you'll keep growing as an artist in spite of it.