#i'm gonna have fun blocking it

[mariaashby64]

Aww yusss, Now that Epic the musical has concluded I can finish lighting my stageplay.

I have all the fill lights just about handled. Now I can get to the fun bit with the spotlights and extras.

[devilsskettle]

The X trilogy + "psycho-biddy" influences

[hulloitsdani]

SHARENA WEEK DAY 6!!!!

SHES DONE!!!!! WHOOOO!!!!

Took me a minute to finally knock this one out and I'm honestly restraining myself from going crazy on the shading and background. But that's eight characters in a style I don't normally work in. I already over estimated the time this would take. I'm calling it here for my sanity.

But with that out of the way, I wanted to thank everyone for the support during Sharena Week!! And an even bigger thank you for the people who made stuff for it! I'm putting it all your art in my pocket. I am running away with it. I am intently staring at it once I have escaped the authorities.

This has been very fun! Big thank you for @sharenaweek / @sharenalovemail for hosting. Please please please go check out everything she's doing. Stare at 'em with your eyes!

And with that I'm gonna back into hibernation! See you once Kiran Fire Emblem inevitably takes over my brain again :D

[svtskneecaps]

dude how the fuck is it that everyone on this server has insane chemistry with each other. my brain just fuckin bounces between dynamics like wow foolish and bad, wow baghera and forever, wow baghera and bagi, wow philza and etoiles, wow fit and pac, wow pac e mike, wow favela five AND six (bagi screeching "DON'T MESS WITH FAVELA" paraphrased had my mental hamster wheel hitting unprecedented rpms), wow the french and the french + bebou, wow antoine and mouse, wow bagi and tina, wow tina and forever, wow morning crew, wow slime and mariana WHO I'VE SEEN INTERACT LIVE O N E TIME, wow rivers and roier wow, wow rivers + the vaca crew, wow girl town, wow jaiden and roier, wow baghera bad and forever, wow forever and cellbit, wow cellbit and tazercraft, wow cellbit and roier, wow quackity and etoiles, wow phil and forever, wow bad and etoiles, wow tina and etoiles (fucking love them), wow aypierre and maximus (what the fuck, love it), wow foolish and jaiden (and also bad), wow missa and phil, holy shit jaiden and cellbit, jesus christ antoine and maximus and SEE

I AM MISSING A MILLION INTERACTIONS THAT I HAVE ABSOLUTELY GONE INTO MY SIBLING'S TEXTS TO SAY "GOD I LOVE THEM" AND I GUARANTEE I WILL ADD TO AND UPDATE THIS LIST WITH MORE (bc wit of the staircase) there is so much enrichment in my enclosure my brain literally doesn't know what to do with it. i've stalled out. i'm so happy. how the fuck did they do this.

additionally, bc i KNEW i'd forget something: foolish and vegetta (HOW), cellbit and baghera, baghera and fit, mouse and cellbit

[dearestaeneas]

Pappappappappap.

Turn left. Up three slats. Forward for a bit. Hang a right.

Ancient drywall dust speckled the ground at his paws, the wood old and dry and at risk for splintering. It was an absolute playground.

The rat did not know this, but the house had been abandoned for years. On the other side of the wall sat dusty furniture and heavily graffitied wallpaper, empty glass bottles, and general litter. The town had debated knocking it over, putting up a parking lot, but decided against it.

There wasn’t even a shopping mall. What would we need the lot for?

So there the house remained. Abandoned and unloved by humans. The teens who hid in the leaf-filled kitchen to smoke after school did not love the house, with its 3 floors and creaky stairs. The college students who appeared each Thanksgiving night to drink and reminisce, pretending they were anything other than babies in the world did not love the house’s study, home to an elderly desk that no one cared enough to look in. The rats and birds and insects and squirrels did not see the need for the money, or the books, or the gold watch that still, despite it all, ticked.

Pappappappappap.

His little feet pounded ever forward, his little round body squeezing effortlessly upwards between wooden planks.

The little rat, with his round body and busy feet, loved the house. He did not care about the once-expensive looking rugs, or the elegant, but stained, crown molding, and he did not care about the ornate door knobs. The little rat, in no particular order, loved these things about the house:

He loved the still-somewhat-silver silverware that sat in a kitchen drawer for the noise it made when he scurried over them (knives make for a particularly pleasant noise, with their flat edges that slide off of one another).

He loved the bookshelves that lined the walls of most of the rooms, because they made for excellent perches to sit on to survey the floor (not to mention that if one of the books could be knocked over, a page could be taken for a nest with incredible ease).

He loved the plushies left behind in one of the smaller upstairs rooms. There was one that looked like him! Although this was not his favorite (that honor belonged to a little brown bear, who lay on his back, leaving his stomach open for the most wonderful of naps), it pleased him. A mirror had been knocked off the bathroom cabinet and shattered, its shards sparkling on the floor. The little rat tended to avoid that room, knowing simply that the little silver points were bad news, and not needing more information than that. However, he had not come to this conclusion without first exploring the room, for the initial shattering had mimicked the pleasant sounds of the silverware, but times a thousand. He was intrigued by the other little round-bodied rat who looked back at him from one of the shards. He hoped he was not lonely in there.

But the little rat did not love the house for what it contained. Its contents were beneficial and made life interesting and wonderful, but he would have loved the house if it were vacant and cold and bare and boring. The little rat loved the house because it was his home, and because his home loved him.

His home protected him from the rain and the snow and the cold and the heat, his home kept him entertained and safe and happy. He needed nothing and wanted for less.

Pappappappappappap.

He wanted to do something nice for his home. But what did he have to offer? He couldn’t fix the leaky roof, or replace a cracked tile, couldn’t put a chair back upright or even change a lightbulb.

Ultimately, he decided the best way he could show his love would simply be to live in his home. His home would understand his limitations, while still seeing that the little rat stayed because he wanted to, and because staying was important to him.

He climbed higher and higher, ascending more and more wooden slats and boards, scurrying from opening to opening, until finally: a break in the wall.

Drywall parted, and the little rat felt himself becoming giddy. He inched forward, his little nose twitching furiously, his little black eyes boggling.

He panted slightly, having climbed all the way up to the second floor. A journey that would take a human seconds had taken him several minutes. He looked out from his little hole in the drywall to see the ancient chandelier at eye level. If he wanted, he could climb all the way to the very top, and look down onto the chandelier. He’d done this several times, and would, inevitably, do it again.

But there was something magical to being eye level with the sparkly glass. He would say nature played a cruel joke on him, leading him to his home and cursing him with his blurred vision, stopping him from admiring the intricate details of the crystal before him, but the simple problem with this is that he didn’t know any better, didn’t know there was a world outside of the outlines and colors he saw. He loved his home for its outlines and colors, for the way that the chandelier caught the light at certain hours of the day. He loved the sparkle of the rainbow that was cast about the entryway.

Nature was not cruel, nature did not punish him or play jokes. It loved him. It loved him the way he loved his home, it protected him and marveled at him and delighted in his joy.

He sat there, squeaking with great contentment as the sun went down and its rays caught the glass, bathing him and the home he loved in color.

[i-have-art-block]

deep cut helps frye with her summer outfit :3

[rmbunnie]

I am alone on this barren earth (Jason Todd liker and Mia Dearden liker who honestly thinks issues 69-72 of the 2001 Green Arrow run are fun and good and would really like to talk about them beyond "Jason Todd was ooc and irredeemable there because he was trauma-dumping on Mia but also everything he said was fake and made up and he was manipulating her to become his sidekick and he blew up her school in retaliation because she didn't so really we should ignore the whole comic as bad writing /or agree he should just be read as an sadistic sidekick killer" (None of which is true and over half of which is directly stated to be false in the comic's text) but all people ever have to say about the comic is weird wrong takes about the three pages in which the gym fight happens ripped out of the very interesting and fun surrounding context)

[vizishereig]

Chreon Week: Patching Wounds (Day 1)

Leon wakes slowly to a throbbing pain in his head. His body feels much of the same, just one huge bruise. More pain is concentrated around the side of his abdomen, though. He shifts, trying to prop himself up, only to be met with a hand gently pushing him down.

Leon’s eyes fly open and he struggles more, trying recall where he is. He was… brought as backup on a mission with Chris and some of his team. They had split up upon entering the facility, some old-looking house that had a hidden lab under it. Chis and himself taking the higher levels while the rest of the male’s team took the lower ones.

The lab was void of people, but B. O.W.S. still prowled its halls. They had learned why soon enough, finding out that one of the creatures had escaped containment and went on a killing spree, effectively ridding the area of whatever personnel had been here previously.

For the most part, the BOWS here were simple minded, if a bit difficult to kill, covered with an armour-like plating. They’re able to dislodge the armour from their skin like a projectile, rendering the flesh underneath vulnerable. From there, they’re easy to dispatch, so long as you aren’t hit by one of the plates.

Leon wasn’t hit by a plate, more like grazed, but the pain had distracted him enough to make a wrong step on a weak looking section of the floor and fall through. Leading to where he is now, he supposes, vision finally focusing and seeing Chris eyeing him with concern.

“Stop moving, I’m trying to treat your side,” Chris says, brown eyes focusing back on Leon’s side, spraying first aid spray on the wound. It was bleeding sluggishly and honestly didn’t hurt that bad. It definitely didn’t warrant this much care, in Leon’s opinion. He’s operated with worse.

His brow furrows as he opens his mouth to voice as much, but one glare from Chris has Leon rolling his eyes and quieting. He’s aware the other would be stubborn about this and his head hurts just a bit too much to try and argue.

“What happened to the B. O. W.?” Leon asks instead, already knowing the answer. Chris moves away from the wound, satisfied with what care he could manage to administer. Leon pushes himself up, wincing a bit, but otherwise fine.

“Dead. It fell in after you and got its leg trapped under some rubble. Easy enough to kill after that,” Chris replies, standing and offering a hand to Leon. He raises an eyebrow, but takes it, letting Chris pull him up. The hand lingers for a second before Chris lets go, but Leon shrugs it off.

“Well. Let’s go, then,” Leon says, shooting Chris a wry smile and moving away. Clenches his hand repeatedly trying to memorize or maybe forget the feeling of Chris’s hand in his. Forces himself to get a grip, shaking his head a little and settling himself back in a headspace more made to fight B. O. W. S.

He'll probably overthink this interaction later, when he gets back from the mission and his adrenaline is down. But that’s for later.

[accirax]

Through the magic of an AU, Xander, Min, and Teruko make it through the night, avoid a Class Trial, and participate in the first motive alongside everyone else. Except, this time, the first motive is... a gift exhange?

(basically, if it wasn't clear, i'm drawing the drdt characters doing a secret santa exchange with each other, hopefully posting one interaction per day until christmas!)

[womp-womp-waa]

Everything he ever did it was all for his parents approval. Every single thing he did was for them. The only reason why he got up out of bed was to try and make his parents proud. And what did he get in response for all of his effort. Them going on business trips. Again and again and again. Just another business trip. Another move. Another school. And every single time he tried to do something to make his parents stay with him. But nothing worked. He did everything he possible could to please them and he was so sick and tired of them ignoring him. Why? Why should he have to work himself to death just for some attention. Something that he should already be getting. Parents are suppose to love their children not run away from them. At first he thought it was his fault that his parents didn't love him. But now he can clearly see the truth. It wasn't his fault. He did everything he could to change himself and make him more likeable to his parents, so maybe the problem wasn't him but them. For the first few years after this revelation he kept him mouth shut and just stopped trying. Every extra activity he did was for them and they didn't appreciate it and he certainly didn't enjoy them so what's the point of carrying on doing something if it doesn't serve a purpose why should he bother. So he spent most of his time in his room. But it was almost his twelfth birthday and he got told that his parents were going on another business trip. And that's when he lost it. He wasn't proud of all the things that he screamed at his parents but all of this pent up anger over years and years of neglect finally came to the surface. And now on his birthday he was lying in bed, spending his twelfth birthday grounded and now all of that previous anger turned into sadness as he couldn't even bring himself to get out of bed anymore

[wardensantoineandevka]

I've been going through the massive DATV text file (the excel sheet one of ALL the text, and it's really interesting noticing entire quests that have been cut.

I'm sure when people finally get around to hearing about some of these cut scenes or beats (I'm thinking of the three I noticed relating to the Wardens and one scene with Lucanis and—from what I can tell, I might be wrong—had the Viper in it that had a totally different ending for Lucanis's questline), they'll be really bitter and annoyed about it because they're interesting scenes, but I personally am seeing some of those scenes and going, "Super interesting! But I can see exactly why they cut it, and I'm actually REALLY glad they did because it does not fit that well tonally or thematically with the rest of the storylines and the overall core theme. It works well in isolation and is compelling on its own out of context of the larger narrative, but when considered as part of the whole, it feels like it goes against the thematic heart of the story and what it's all together actually about, thus unfortunately does not serve the overall narrative that well. So, yeah, I agree with cutting or rewriting that."

But, then, I lament already people not being able to think about it that way.

[good-to-drive]

huh

[autumngracy]

Would really love it if my heart would just beat with a consistently normal rhythm instead of occasionally being like "hey you wanna play a game I invented called 'are we about to pass out and die in the next few minutes'"?

[pa-pa-plasma]

one of the things that will always destroy me is people believing that good story = darker/more mature/more sexual. this belief has ruined so many stories that could have been amazing & has prevented almost everyone from enjoying other really good stories simply because the age range it's aimed at is one they believe can't have complex themes, characters, plot, etc etc. they don't believe they can be moved by something a publisher or studio decided is for kids & so write it off without even thinking about it. biggest curse of being a writer who actually loves stories & telling them is that literally no one else cares in the most pessimistic, higher-than-thou, capitalism brainrot way you can imagine. & it's all automatic. because that's just what you're taught.

[christopher067]

hi ♡ giving a little old school wip tumblr teaseeee of a new set i have planned for the end of this month :):) hope everyone is doing well on here! i really need to check in more often..

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

you absolutely already know this, but i adore your work. i think it's hard to avoid the pressure of being surrounded by people we might consider "true artists," but the fact is that, frankly, everyone who makes art is an artist.

before this year, i hadn't drawn a complete piece in nearly three years. the line work i did produce felt abysmal and i was tempted to give up. then, i saw your comic and i thought, "wow, that's really cute, and it looks like a fun style to emulate."

i drew you, pondering me, eating grass. and it WAS fun. i forgot how fun it could be. i can draw lesbian horses, or pony!WWX throwing a chicken, or me eating grass. i can even make shitty memes! and all of it, no matter how good or how bad, is fun again.

you bring a lot of fun to people here. that's something equally as important as people who cultivate fancy line work or expert level digital painting. i'm sure that's something you know, but i hope it never hurts to hear it.

happy first season, friend! i can't wait to see the rest.

As a chronic perfectionist, it's been a long journey for me to accept that 'done is better than nothing' and that the worst critical voice is my own. Sure there's people who've gone to professional art schools, and those with a more than a decade of experience on me, but honestly? Would I tell a child their sonic drawing isn't art? Just because they have no 'experience' or 'technique'? Absolutely not. So I'm no longer saying my efforts should not count as art.

At the end of the day, art is what we choose to make it. We have the power to create whatever we want. And we are going to use it to have fun! We never lost the love and fun for creation we all had as children, we just told ourselves it wasn't enough. But it really is B*)