#muse: raptor

[worldsouls]

CLEVER GIRL.

Say hi to Raptor, an OC who's been a WIP for (I think) well over a year! But here she FINALLY is, making her first art appearance in all of her theatre-loving, ass-kicking, Pack-defending glory!!

Art by the delightful @badtrigger!!!

[worldsoulsa]

POV You're about to get your ass kicked by a gang leader who loves literature, theater, and ecological conservation.

[incorrectsmashbrosquotes]

Idea for an animated kid's movie/comedy.

So there's this dinosaur park that's a thinly veiled Jurassic Park knock-off (call it Cretaceous Island), and it's a bit of a toy story situation, in that the dinosaurs can talk and communicate when the humans aren't looking, mostly at night.

The dinos don't really want to break out since they like their cushy zoo lives and five-star treatment from the staff, so they're willing to get oggled by a bunch of twelve year olds to keep the food coming.

Out main characters are a T-Rex, two raptor sisters, and a wise old triceratops. The raptors are bored with their lives and long for adventure, the triceratops is a wise-old mentor figure, and the T-Rex is lonely since the park won't engineer any other T-Rex's for safety reasons.

Through magical shenanigans they get sent back to the actual Cretaceous period.

Now these pampered genetically engineered dinos have to survive in the savage dinosaur era. To underscore the differences between them, the future dinos are animated as pretty standard cartoon dinosaurs, a la Land Before Time, while the dinosaurs from the past are animated to be as scientifically accurate as possible.

The dinos go through shenanigans, amke friends in the past, evade predators, and eventually make their way home through magic portal stuff, except for the T-Rex who elects to stay behind since he's fallen for a female T-Rex he met in the past. His friends are sad to leave him behind, but go to the present anyway.

Back in the present, the dinos think nothing has really changed, but they find that the exhibit in the visitor's center, previously a single roaring T-Rex skeleton, has been replaced with two T-Rex's, famous for being found fossilized together called "The Deadly Lovers", and its their friend and the mate he found in the past. It ends on the bittersweet note.

[worldsouls]

"Miss Raptor? I like it. That's fancy."

Getting called Miss reminded her of older times, softer times where 'Miss Mavis' was what her mom would call Mavis whenever she wanted to be treated like a grown-up. Well, Ma, look at her now! She's demanding attention, demanding respect, standing tall and making people like some mousy little corpo shake in fear. At least that's what Raptor thought was happening, her show to put on, her show to intimidate and put awe into the awaiting masses. But there were no awaiting masses, just one corpo and one security guard. A crowd enough.

"And that's where you're mistaken, Brianne." The corpo's name dances off of Raptor's tongue, metaphorically forked tongue rolling on the 'r' in her name, for no reason if not theatrics. She shrugged her shoulders, looking off uninterested while she thought about the idea of running against Los Piratas.

Yeah right. Make an enemy of a volatile, nearby member of your environment. Great idea.

"Los Piratas and my Pack are allies. They take pleasure in using violence as means to an end, we take pleasure in using violence as means to an end. They intimidate other gangs with large displays of group strength, we intimidate other gangs with large displays of group strength. Y'get my point, right? Better together, cover a larger span of territory, divide and conquer. Like...departments, for you. Finance gets into marketing's business which gets into HR's business which makes it into everyone's business. Speaking of, as I've been hogging the conversation, what's your business? What got you mixed up with the criminal riffraff?"

The amusement her wry remark culls from the uninvited guest is not entirely intentional. The ultra polite, professional front is the director’s strongest, the one she automatically defaults to in business and more often than not, personal situations, especially when she’s uncomfortable — as she is right now. Her corpo social bubble burst thanks to the machinations of one gang, and now it appears she will need to entertain those of others. 

     Shapely brows tent following the crassly spoken logic, which is sound if one didn’t spend their waking hours inside an office in Arasaka Tower. Brianne tries not to bring work home with her (which results in her estate simply being her lodging for the night). She doubts Raptor's here for a corp-related consult.

     “Right.” Voice drawls in uncertainty; still, acquiescing seems better than arguing or revealing any more personal information. "And of course, my apologies, Miss Raptor. It's lovely to make your acquaintance.” Cordiality doesn’t miss a beat but her head is swimming. Raptor? Pack? Good grief. In her book alongside Maelstrom, the Animals are the most confusing consumers who modify themselves to be anything but human. Guess it explains the unique visage staring back at her. 

     “My name is Brianne.” Stopping there unless she gives more away. “You see, I think you are mistaken about my relations. Friend is not quite the correct terminology. My business with him is transactional only.” What else does one call extortion if not that? “Please don’t tell me you are seeking something similar because you may need to ask for your friend's permission before you do that.” Don’t these gangs maintain territorial authority? Is she not in a protection racket where there is supposed to be some sort of protection against this?

[cinnamon-flame]

drew my boi Clippy getting themselves in situations

[azukilynn]

at the lumberyard

~

people mill about

eyes glued to screens

ears filled with pods

~

nobody notices the hawk

hunting

in the rafters

preying on pigeons

(whatever she can grab)

~

nobody notices

sparrows all as one

flittering away

loudly twittering

danger approaches!

~

nobody notices

the cheater hawk

(or so i have named her)

flying now—victorious

talons tightly gripping

the catch of the day

~

nobody notices

the unfortunate bird

the bloody feather falling

~

but i do

i always do

~

azuki lynn

[cxpperhead]

Copperhead doesn't need lockpicks to be able to bypass obstacles but they sure do make the process a lot easier. When confronted with locked doors, vents or windows, the ends of his claws are long and thin enough for him to jiggle the mechanism within and even unscrew less powerful bolts providing they are the right shape. If not, a dose of his venom is enough to corrode the metal, allowing him entry into more stubbornly guarded passageways.

[haloraptor]

Mass Exodus

I had feathers once, that much I know. I was covered in feathers, though their color escapes me. My slim fingers were topped with talons, both my feet carrying a hooked claw made famous by Hollywood. I had a tail, though I can’t remember the feeling of it at all, perhaps because I could never move it. I was smaller, closer to the ground, sported lighter bones and sharper teeth. I ran through arid plains and deserts, pouncing on small creatures under the warm Cretaceous sun. At least, I suspect I did. I have no clear memory, have nothing but sparse paleontological records and speculation to use to help me. Even then, to much of the world I am a Boogeyman, a monster that only knows to kill and eat. 

I am no monster. I am but an animal. I am an animal, and I am real. We are real. We are wild, we are free, we have been hunting, playing, surviving and having families millions of years before anyone could think to imply we were mindless.

But now there’s none of us left, none that I have been able to find. I am far from those deserts by both distance and time, far from the sights and smells that might jog my memory. I can’t remember my face. I can’t remember my home. I can’t remember faces of any others I knew, or if I ran with others at all. I can’t remember anything. All I can recall are the faintest sensations, instincts, feelings. Distant and buried like the bones of my brothers and sisters under the baking sands. 

I can’t remember my voice. I’ve been trying to, though my new vocal cords occasionally protest my efforts. I have been trying to find my old voice since I was new to this life. I chirp, growl, hiss, squeak, bark, and trill, searching for a sound that I’ll remember. I grow frustrated when the sound is misclassified, when I’m misclassified, steer my efforts in another direction. Maybe if I chirp just right, another will hear me, another will call back to me. Then I will know I am not alone in this fate, in this strange new body and strange new world that I never should’ve been able to see. 

I look into the hollow eye sockets of long-dead skeletons that I might’ve known once and I can’t remember them. Their calls, their eyes, their scales or plumage, it’s all been lost. I cannot carry their stories. I cannot even carry my own. Why I am here while they are on display, I do not know. I do not understand. 

I weep for those who have no one to live for them, all those other species that have gone before and after me but have gone all the same. I weep for those last survivors of them most of all, because their pain is one that I understand to my core. We all live in a world that has changed beyond us, that has run away without us. That has no more need for us, or has deluded itself into believing as such. None of us can understand why or how it has come to be this way. 

Others with my affliction are luckier than I. They have others they can see, either around them or in special places where creatures are gathered and put on display. Or even still on camera, professional or amateur. I am happy for them. They are not the last of theirs. I hope they take comfort in that. 

It is a cruel fate. To be the last of your species, but not even having the face to prove it. I have hair now like those little mammals I used to pin under my talons. I walk upright on heavier bones, far taller than I was ever meant to be. I can’t sit or move like I used to, my bone structure won’t allow it. Gone are my feathers, my talons, my tail and my teeth, my voice and my memories themselves. A mass exodus of everything I was, and everything I no longer find in my reflection (a reflection I can’t remember clearly). 

Still, I am a velociraptor. I looked the part, once. I had feathers. I had talons. I had a tail. I had fangs. I would run across arid plains and deserts under the warm Cretaceous sun. I hunted, played, and survived millions of years before the words I use to convey all of this could’ve been conceived. 

All of it is gone. The world I knew is gone. The rest of my kind is gone. All but me.

I am one of the last velociraptors left in the world, and I ache for a home that doesn’t exist anymore from a time I can’t remember.

[lionsprice]

Be proud of me I finally did my tags.

[thessence]

who let the cryptid out of their cage 🥹🦐

hi welcome back 🦐

who said anybody let me back out >:) ♥ thank you its good to be back, i have missed u and so many others

[worldsouls]

Mav is the kind of person who will stare you dead in the eye and hold the exact same expression, only following you with her eyes and not moving at all so you have literally no clue how she's going to strike next

[worldsoulsa]

Despite her outwards appearance of >:I, Mav is honestly a rather inviting person. The way that Rex, the former Alpha of Mav's pack, brought her in and gave her a place to stay will never be lost on Mav and she aims to give that same place to other lost souls.

Her trust is a bit harder to win, but once you've won her trust you have a great ally on your side. Lose that trust, however, and you've got a Raptor hunting you down anytime she catches you in her sight.

[immortal-dreamer]

This is the best April Fool’s Day ever I got my favorite nsft artists to boop back.

[dxrknessembr8ced]

Almost there to their objective after killing a few more bio weapons along the way they see a steel door in front of them that opens the new path only to reveal that something has emerged from the door. Umbrella's most finest bio organic weapon, Nemesis enter the seen with a loud growl carrying only his rocket launcher and preparing to kill both of them.

" STTTAAAAAARRRRRRSSS.... "

Nemesis stomped towards the group with intensions of eliminating primary Hsien-Ko as instructed too by the rebel cult members.

Unbeknownst to the tyrant Hsien-Ko towers over her, standing roughly almost 20 feet tall and since her mutations she became far more stronger and deadlier than before as she stared directly in the gaze of Nemesis with rage and guilt burning through those eyes like fire. Making sure the infants are away from harm she gave them to Raptor to keep them safe.

" Raptor, take the kids and start running... "

" OI-! WHA- "

" Go. Now. Nemesis is mine to face, for once in your life stop looking out for me, save yourself and the kids... "

Lord Raptor without another word nodded as she takes the infants and immediately leaves out of their way. She knows that the jiangshi will get out of this alive on top like the apex predator that she is. Nemesis and Hsien-Ko stand fourth staring at each other as she towers over him. For the first time in this tyrant's existence Nemesis experienced true fear as the monster clenched his fists despite the situation he won't back down for a fight. This is her second fight with him and it will be his last humiliation, she killed his once and will do so again.

[mcgiggers]

London, Paris - March 2024

Just back from a fantastic art viewing adventure in the old world which featured stops at the Tate Modern and Goldsmiths Centre for Contemporary Art in London, and the Musée d’Orsay, the Foundation Louis Vuitton and the Bourse de Commerce in Paris. The four-day trip was on the back end of a stay in the 13th century hilltop village of Petritoli, located in Le Marche, where local churches and those in the neighboring towns displayed marvelous medieval and renaissance style treasures. In the big cities, however, the focus was more on contemporary offerings. The whole made for a fascinating journey through an exciting part of art history.

London

An attempt to see the Yoko Ono exhibit at the Tate Modern was stymied by sold out crowds. The serendipity in poor planning however resulted in an opportunistic visit to the museum’s permanent collection, more specifically the magical second floor featuring modern masters and post war stalwarts. With entire rooms dedicated to the likes of Joan Mitchell and Gerhard Richter, among others, the walk-through played out like a greatest hits tour where around every corner an even more marvelous sensory treat was served up. Highlights of the visit included: Georges Braque’s early cubist masterpiece “Clarinet and Bottle of Rum on Mantlepiece”, 1911, oil on canvas (31.9 x 23.6 in.); Giorgio Griffa’s painterly “Tre linee con arabesco n.111”, 1991, acrylic on unstretched and unbleached canvas (114.4 x 76.4 in.); and Agnes Martin’s contemplative grid patterned renderings “On a Clear Day”, 1973, thirty screenprints on paper (each 12 x 12 in.), edition 32 of 50.

On the other side of town on the campus of one of the world’s most renowned art schools, a Matt Connors exhibit, Finding Aid, opened its doors at the Goldsmiths Centre for Contemporary Art. Featuring new and older works by the American abstract artist, the expansive grouping of paintings, sculptures and drawings cleverly paired Connors’ soft geometric abstraction and minimalist marking styles.  Showstoppers included: the large-scale bold vertical diptychs “Mural for a Gay Household I” and “Mural for a Gay Household II”, 2018-2020, acrylic on canvas; the vibrant “Red Top (deployed hatch)”, 2015, acrylic on canvas; and the sparse “Echo Implies Room (Orange/unprimed)”, 2012, acrylic and colored pencil on canvas.

Paris

Forty-eight hours later, the Eurostar abetted transition to Paris was speedy and eventless. Even under cloudy skies, the City of Light was totally sublime and uniquely picturesque. The art stops along the way were knockout shows in beautiful venues which in and of themselves were artistic and architectural marvels. At the Musée d’Orsay, the magnificently repurposed train station was the setting for the Paris 1874: Inventing Impressionism exhibit. The show celebrates the 150th anniversary of the inaugural exhibit of the then avant-garde movement and chronicles the transition from staid and traditional realism to hazier and freer interpretations of subject matter capturing a moment in time, an impression, so to speak. The cast of characters that led the way included MVPs in the annals of art history - Monet, Renoir, Degas and Cézanne, among others, all of whom figure prominently in the exhibit. The highlights included: Auguste Renoir’s “La Loge”, 1874, oil on canvas (31.5 x 24.8 in.); Claude Monet’s “Impression, soliel levant”, 1872, oil on canvas (19.63 x 25.63 in.); and Edgar Degas’ “Classe de danse”, circa 1870, oil on wood (7.75 x 10.63 in.).

The next visit on the journey was the futuristic Frank Gehry-designed Foundation Louis Vuitton and the Mark Rothko retrospective. The comprehensive exhibit brought together 115 or so works of the powerhouse American abstract artist and presented a chronology of the evolution of his early figurative renderings to mystical and surreal style paintings and finally, to his entrancing iconic floating forms. The highlights included: the early representational scene “Contemplation”, 1937-1938, oil on canvas; the surrealist masterpiece “Slow Swirl at the Edge of the Sea”,1944, oil on canvas; and dozens upon dozens of mesmerizing large format colour abstractions, including, “Orange and Red on Red”, 1957, oil on canvas (68.8 x 66 in.) and “No. 14”, 1960, oil on canvas (114 x 105 in.).

The last planned stop in Paris was the Pinault Collection at the impressively remodelled Bourse de Commerce. Spiralling up the majestic rotunda, works by contemporary art rockstars were prominently displayed. Among these were: Peter Doig’s haunting “Pelican (Stag)”, 2003-2004, oil on canvas; Maurizio Cattelan’s poignant “Him”, 2001, wax, human hair, suit, polyester resin and pigment; and a monumental installation by Sturtevant replicating the mythical room staged by Marcel Duchamp at the 1938 International Surrealist Exhibition in Paris.

Closing off the trip and reaching back in the art history timeline, a truly memorable work was discovered by happenstance during an unplanned visit to Eglise Saint-Séverin. Dating back to the 13th century, the gothic style place of worship housed numerous elaborate chapels which were all built around altars and adored by art of the time. A particular work stood out as it was presented alone hung high on a huge wall under a circular stained-glass window surrounded by nothing else but the serenity of the immediate environment. It totally radiated under the spotlight that illuminated a depicted religious figure sitting at a table who perhaps was Saint Séverin, a devout 6th century hermit and the church’s namesake.

Meanwhile, in the new world, there was a lot more commotion as Hogtown’s Jurassic Park was hit with an asteroid of epic proportions that essentially wiped out all remnants of a recent championship team.  The Dinos were dissected and dismantled. Gone are Crazy Eyes and OG-Won Kenobi, and team leader Scottie B and the much-maligned Austrian Big succumbed to season ending injuries. All the while, the newly minted Raptors including RJ the Prodigal Son Barrett and Immanuel La Squig Quickley struggled to stay healthy and make their mark. The result has been a team that is nowhere near relevant in the standings nor the hearts of fans. With the prospect of a lengthy and bumpy rebuilding process ahead, Dino fans can perhaps take some solace in rooting for the success of Raptor expats applying their trade elsewhere or maybe even Canadian hoopsters playing for true championship contenders. It’s all a lot rosier than the current state of affairs in Jurassic Park.

For more information on any of the venues, artists or works mentioned, or the sad sack Dinos, “Just Google It”.

There you have it sportsfans,

MC Giggers

(Https://mcgiggers.tumblr.com) Reporter’s Certification

I, MC Giggers, hereby certify that the views expressed in this report accurately reflect my personal views and that no part of my compensation was or will be, directly or indirectly, related to the specific views expressed herein.

I also certify that I may or may not own, directly or indirectly, works of artists mentioned in this report and that I may or may not have a strong bias for such artists and, more generally, for “Pictures of Nothing”.

[varicrux]

rare lil starter call, wont be larger than 1 to 3 lines