#oh the agony of drawing backgrounds

[askthesatanchild]

ah yes, john "jack" merridew

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (i)

grumpy!matt sturniolo x sunshine!fem oc / reader

summary : matt is a grumpy tattoo artist and y/n books him for her first tattoo.

warnings : needles and pain (not very detailed tho)

mickey speaks : i don't have any tattoos so i actually know nothing ab the procedure lmaooo just guessing but i’ll be writing multiple parts for this. also i am very much self indulging bc i headcannon y/n as poc! but obvi anyone can read there's not much exclusivity ab how i write her, i js wanted to note that for any poc readers <3.

THIS IS PART 1 BTW!!!!

“SHITTT,” you draw out the last syllable at the rumble and screech of your car engine as you continue your attempt to start it.

eventually you throw your head backwards in defeat, annoyed by the unbudging car. this is the actual worst timing. you're supposed to be at the tattoo shop (that is a 12 minute drive from your apartment complex) for an appointment in less than twenty minutes.

you truly want to scream and border on throwing a tantrum but decide it would probably be better to find a solution than complain about the agony further.

you quickly find your roommate's contact, raising your phone to your ear and pinching your eyes shut as the vibrating ring hums through your skull.

"y/n? what's up?" andrea answers confused as you had only just walked out of the door five minutes ago.

"hi drea... so i know you have your own plans right now but is there any way you can give me a ride... please?"

you hear shuffling on the line, "mmm, where to?"

౨ৎ

“thank you again for driving me,” you smile at andrea and squeeze her hand before reaching for the door.

“yes, of course. you can call me when you’re done and i’ll head over here- m’sorry i can’t stay with you.” she replies and exaggerates a frown.

"i'll be fine, i think- i hope..."

"you will be fine. just don't stress or it'll hurt more."

౨ৎ

your arms are crossed tightly over your chest as you make your way into the shop (in its form of an oversized warehouse, fixed up to look stylish and comfortable- something you’d never really seen before). the rickety jingle of a small bell kindly indicates your presence to the rest of the shop.

a few people sitting in a waiting area look up before continuing their conversations (though some continued to stare as you walk by). you see a surprising amount of people crowding in a brightly decorated lounge area, housing many arcade games and a kitchenette.

you reach the receptionist desk and are greeted by a young man dressed casually, humming along to the music playing in the background of the space.

“um, hi. i’m here for my 1:30 appointment.” you state with a smile, you’re suddenly aware of how nervous you truly are.

the brunette looks over to a desktop screen with a soft scrunch of his face, “for y/n, right? huh, that’s crazy…” he rubs his chin, “1:30 was like nine minutes ago,” he looks up at you, almost like he was questioning you; who do you think you are? and why do you think you’re important enough to be late?

as soon as your face begins to morph into fear and embarrassment his own face splits into a large smile as he laughs softly. “i’m sorry- i’m such an ass but i had to- your file said you’re new clientele so i just had to fuck around.”

“you’re sick! i was fully prepared for a fucking lecture on timeliness or something,” you let out a soft laugh.

the boy comes from around the desk holding a paper and clipboard. “yeah, sorry, i’m chris,” he reaches a hand out to which you willingly return and restate your name to him, “‘m not usually up front so you probably talked to asha over the phone when booking.”

you nod and smile at the familiar name, “yeah, she was so helpful over the phone.”

“she’s awesome, i miss her,” he touches each of his shoulders then forehead before kissing his hand and pointing to the sky.

"oh my god? i'm sorry for your loss."

his eyes squint and lips pucker in confusion, "oh, she's not fired she's just on vacation right now."

"so why'd you...?"

chris cuts you off by handing you the clipboard and grabbing a pen from a cluttered mason jar on the desk as he explains, “okay, we’re just gonna have you fill out this quick consultation form; just so you and your artist will be on the same page about things.” you nod in understanding. “keep it brief, matt’s not big on reading large bodies of text,” chris laughs.

“got it,” you smile before turning to find a chair and begin writing. you truly were relieved that chris wasn’t hard on you about being late, for a second you thought you would be lectured and have to carry the guilt of dissapointing someone into a room where you'd be paying to lie in excruciating physical pain. (damn, double homecide)

the sheet had general information to fill before the questions specifically about the tattoo you’d be getting today came.

you go back up to chris once you’re finished.

“cool, follow me we’ll set you up with matt.” he leads the way and your nerves are suddenly back as it's feeling more and more real with each step. you pacify your thoughts by looking around at the many images and messages written in sharpie along the walls of the hallway. there's also plenty of hanging shelves around with vintage trinkets and succulents that compliment the space around.

chris reaches a curtain and dips his head past as if he were checking for something before giving you a chance to see. you notice the small "Matt" embroidered on the black curtain. chris then opens it wide enough for the both of you to walk into the surprisingly large space.

(who you can only assume to be) matt sits comfortably in a wheeled desk chair, legs spread. his elbow rests on the arm of the chair and he holds his head up with two of his fingers, as his middle finger grazes his irritated mouth with a stern look on his face while he scrolls on his phone.

he doesn’t move his position when he looks up at the two of you.

“alright! matt this is y/n,” chris motions between you two. matt hums, placing his phone on the desk and placing his hand out expectantly for the clipboard. chris goes to hand it to him and whispers, “fix your face, jackass,” then turning around to leave you some reassuring words, “good luck y/n, the tat’s gonna look amazing.”

but chris doesn’t see matt exaggerating a large, sarcastic smile from behind him in defense of chris’ words (he immediately drops it though). something that would make you at least giggle if you weren’t so nervous.

“thanks,” your voice is a little hoarse as you haven’t used it in some time. matt watches the boy leave before looking over to you. he rolls the chair closer, reading over your short (as requested) responses.

“you can sit down.” he forms it almost as a question like are you going to sit down or do i have to direct you to do everything?

you sit on the black cushioned bench, lined with a disposable white cloth and begin to fidget with your fingernails as matt goes over your paperwork quietly.

“''kay, so you’re getting a small hello kitty on your lower hip?” he summarizes while checking and signing a few lines on a paper.

“yeah, um, i told asha over the phone that way you could have it sketched already- she told me that’s best and saves time for the both of us.”

his response is a slowed nod and a breathy, “yep,” as he rolls over to his desk and places the clipboard on the surface before opening a drawer and digging through it.

you gaze around the room and wonder if he decorated the space himself or if he wasn’t the type to be bothered enough to add personal things to his work area. almost all the posters are of music artists or tattoos, the most personal things you see are a small picture frame on his desk and a pokémon plushie sat on a chair in the corner of the room. all of which just pose more questions in your working brain.

you notice him switching to a different swivel chair that is lower to the ground and bringing himself (as well as a moving table with already prepared supplies) closer to you.

you’re nervous again. even after your roommate and older brother have both given you advice on first tattoos and the pain expected you’re still finding yourself scared of what to expect. your ear piercings would have nothing on this.

“first tattoo?” matt clarifies, as if he could read your mind. you nod and go to speak but stop when he gestures for you to lay back on the cushion.

you’re sure that he only was searching for a quick confirmation from you and is not too interested in your life or what brings you here but you’ve found that talking relieves your own stress and you absolutely cannot just lay there and only speak when spoken to.

“yeah, i guess m’nervous. i just hope i don’t, like, die from pain or hate the outcome or curse myself in a couple years for the placement- but it's not that i'm doubting that it'd be cute. younger me would be screaming at the fact that i'm even here..." you pause just for a second. "but then again i'm not sure how much forty year old me will appreciate it. so i guess i just don’t know. you know?”

you lean yourself up to get a look at matt, only to realize he has airpods in and simply has not been listening or interested in you (just as you expected). he’s moving his head the smallest amount to the beat as he works on his sketch.

he notices your movement though and takes a headphone out of his ear, “are you okay?” is all he asks.

a pretty broad question. and an anxiety inducing question to ask a girl who's been questioning her decisions as much as you have. you hope you’re okay. will you still be okay when this (mostly) permanent decision is etched into your skin forever? is he okay? will he give you any sense of encouragement or comfort during this process? are tattoo artists typically like this or are you just considered especially needy clientele?

“yeah, i just was- like, curious, i guess.” you mumble a little and internally hate that you feel so insecure in this situation. so out of control.

“was just adjusting my sketch to be a smaller. nothing crazy happening over here.” he shrugs. “you can go ahead and pull your shirt up, though. i’m just gonna clean the area and prep before inking.” he explains to you very straight and to the point.

you fall back into place and obey, inching your shirt up further to expose your lower stomach. you drape your arms over your face to gain composure as you hear matt rip some packaging.

the coolness of the cleaning pad sends your stomach butterflies and you try to not think too hard about the fact that matt’s hands will be on your lower stomach and hip for a good length of time.

eventually matt speaks to you again, “i’m starting so if you’re feeling the need to get the fuck out you gotta do it now or for forever hold your peace.”

you smile a little at his dry joke but when you turn your head to see him fully serious you blink, “no, i’ll be fine. thanks though.”

he just nods his head and goes to put his airpods back in before you’re interrupting again, “wait. whatcha listening to?”

he’s suprised by the question. his clients rarely get too involved in what he’s doing. mostly because he does a great fucking job no matter how few words he may utter over an entire session. there's a mutual understanding there that he's never had to speak up about to anyone. other artists use a strong bond or charisma to secure returning customers but matt finds there’s nothing better to display than his pure talent and passion for his craft. that’s how he keeps clients. they ask and he will always deliver; and that’s how he particularly likes it. no questions and minimal conversation.

the sound of the tattoo gun begins and just for your sake he decides to answer the question without malice, “just some frank ocean instrumental tracks." he places his hands back onto your skin, "don’t start moving.”

you pinch your eyes shut and squeeze your forearms as soon as the initial pain takes over. it’s a feeling you can only describe as a needle poking into you a trillion times at once. which is literally what's happening to you.

you’re not oblivious to matt’s disengagement with your attempts at conversation but you need him to continue to speak to you or else you’ll think too much about the needle actively puncturing you. “oh yeah? i’ve never listened to him before…”

“surprising. he’s pretty big.” matt mumbles slightly, focusing on his work far more than his slight interest in your knowledge of frank ocean.

“mhm. i’ve been meaning to give him a listen. could you share?”

matt’s eyes just move to look up at your face as he tries not to beg you to just be quiet and let him do this so that you both can leave within an hour. “i’m good on that.” he returns to tattooing.

“huh? you can’t share music?”

“i would prefer not to but-” he doesn’t even know why he’s continuing to fuel this anymore.

“what if i add a pretty,” you pause to wince a little as the needle moves lower, “pretty please?”

“i’m almost done,” he mumbles the lie.

“matt?”

he pauses for only a second to glance over to you. he’s met with a face scrunched in pain with an attempted smile that he thinks makes you look more like a doped up hippie than the cute effect you were going for. you plead after his glance, “pretty please?”

he rolls his eyes and sets his tattoo gun down, reluctantly swiveling over to his desk. before you even realize what exactly he’s doing there’s a airy beat of drums and piano playing from a small speaker in the room.

once he's back over to you he can tell you’re smiling even though your face is mostly covered by your arms. “thank you, i needed a distraction or something.”

he mumbles an “mhm” and returns to his work.

౨ৎ

there was generally no talking after that. only a few moments you observed (due to your need to cling on to literally anything going on besides the pinching at your lower side) that were any indication of matt's quiet presence. you noticed when matt would softly hum the lyrics to the instrumentals over the speaker and when you began to tap your fingers out of boredom and nerves, to which he simply placed his hand over them to force them flat while muttering a small “stop.”

when matt was completely finished he asked you if he could take a picture to add to his instagram and you agreed eagerly. he then added a strip of tattoo film over a layer of protective ointment. after he helped you to fully stand he explained how to care for it and how important cleaning is because “that shit will get gunky as fuck.” and you told him that you promise to do everything he said. he also gave you a detailed list on a card for you to follow just in case you forget.

you glance down at your tattoo one last time before you begin to leave the room you’d just spent a lengthy hour of your life in. you assume matt doesn’t want much else from you until he calls your name from his desk. you turn and see him still looking at his phone before glancing up, “uh, what’s your insta handle, so i can tag you in this?”

you don’t know why you’re surprised but you are.

you agree to exchange handles with him before deciding to compliment him once more, “my tattoo is perfect, by the way. i love it so much, thank you.” you want to tell him that you hope you didn’t annoy him too much but you don’t know if that will annoy him more. so you take his nod and hint of a smile as his way of showing appreciation, keeping your own smile bright to mask the crushing feeling of someone seeming so indifferent towards you.

after walking past the curtain and through the trinket-filled hallway you’re back to the main area of the warehouse. you see a different collection of people gathered playing pool and some more huddled on a couch looking at a girl’s phone in awe. chris is busy talking with what seems to be a close friend when you walk up to the reception desk.

when his eyes find your bright expression he’s bouncing back with energy, “hey! i’m assuming it went well?" he asks.

"very well. glad it's over though, i can't lie." you laugh while taking your debit card from your purse.

"yeah, definitely not the best feeling. especially when matt's ugly face is that close to you." chris jokes and takes your card to cash you out.

you laugh along with him but assure him that matt's looks weren't an issue. he raises his eyebrows and has a growing smirk that travels to his eyes when he gives you your card back. you try not the blush at the implication, "i didn't mean it like that."

"right," he nods and chuckles softly, "well hopefully you'll be back for another eventually?" he hands you a receipt.

"i mean how could i not with such a sweet receptionist asking me? i'm sure you get everyone to come back," you joke.

chris shrugs with a cocky grin, "somethin' like that."

౨ৎ

"oh my god it's fucking adorable, what?!" andrea exclaims with a spoonful of frozen yogurt still in her mouth.

she initally begged to see it as soon as she picked you up but you dramatically told her you had just experienced the worst pain of your life and you'd need a sweet treat if you were planning to not sleep the rest of the day away. so she just rolled her eyes and demanded you show her once you both arrive at your favorite frozen yogurt shop (conveniently down the street from your apartment complex).

"i knowww," you respond and quickly pull the lower part of your shirt down with a smile, taking a seat across from drea.

"how'd it go, though? i'm curious. i've only been to warehouse 79 like once, and it was for an event."

"it was good, they were all generally kind and my guy did exactly what i wanted. i'm pretty happy."

"'my guy,' oh okayy?" she takes a bite and smirks.

"not what i meant! i should have just said matt. like, the guy who did my tattoo-"

"mhmm."

"stop.” you smirk, “i mean he was not ugly by any means but he seemed to not care to get to know me at all. which is fine, he's not paid to care about me. but i doubt i'll ever see him again." you shrug taking another bite of frozen yogurt.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

[ihni]

Seagulls.

His body is alight with indescribable pain, and there's a crumbling mall around him and a monster in front of him and tentacles like knives in his chest, his sides, his back -

He can't breathe. Exhaled all the air in his lungs on that scream, his last scream, a final act of defiance against a monster that he didn't have the strength to defy until now, and now he can't draw in new breath, he can't -

There were noises. Pandemonium. Concrete cracking, glass shattering, metal bending. Explosions, roaring. Screams. He's pretty sure there were screams. They might still be there, but they're drowned out by the sounds of -

Seagulls.

He blinks, and for a second the destroyed ceiling of the mall and the dark sky beyond turns blue, the light blue of a cloudless summer day. He blinks again, and it's gone.

He's lying down, and it's cold tiles against his back and there's blood underneath him but the blood warms him like sand on the beach, and he blinks again and the blue sky is back and the cacophony of noise is blending together to a buzzing, to white noise, to something rythmic like -

Waves breaking. Swash on sand.

Someone bends over him. A girl. Long red hair, crying, she's in pain like he's in pain and oh god he's in so much pain, but he doesn't want her to hurt so he says -

"I'm sorry"

- and doesn't know what he's sorry for.

He blinks. The sky is blue, the air smells like salt, and someone is bending over him. A woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. She reaches out a hand and gently brushes a bloody strand of hair out of his face.

He can't move. His body is broken, there are holes in his chest, his blood is full of crushed glass, tearing him up from the inside. It's worse than anything and everything he has ever experienced, is enough to push every memory and rational thought right out of his head and replace it with agony.

"It hurts," he says, and it's a sob, a wheeze, blood bubbling out between his lips.

"I know," someone says, and it's a woman. Long blonde hair, smiling. Familiar. Her hand is on his cheek, her fingers brushing away the tears that are drawing clean paths through the grime on his temples. Her touch is soft, cool on his burning skin, soothing -

Something wet hits his face, something salty like a tear, but that doesn't make sense because no one is crying but him. The sky is blue above him and the sand is warm beneath him and the sounds around him are of seagulls and waves, and that must be it, not a teardrop but a splash from the sea; salty and wet, as if the ocean itself cries for him -

"It hurts," he says again, because it does, but there's a woman there, with long blonde hair, and he knows her, it's -

"Mom"

- and her smile widens and her hands are on his face and her smile is the sun, is warmth and comfort and peace.

"I'll kiss it better," she says, and bends down and places her lips on his forehead, lightly, barely touching.

He closes his eyes, and takes what feels like the first breath in forever. Something like life blooms from her touch.

She presses a kiss to each of his closed eyelids, and he feels his heart restart in his chest and can't remember when it stopped.

She kisses his cheek, and the background noises - that aren't the seagulls, or the sounds of waves - fade. Another kiss on his other cheek, and the sky stabilizes, and stays blue. He can't recall what it used to be, before.

"It still hurts," he murmurs, confused but at peace, but she kisses his bare chest where a hole should be, and there's nothing there but unbroken skin.

"Does it?" she asks, laughter in her tone, and he realizes that no, it doesn't. Where before there was a wildfire raging in every inch of his body, now there's only the gentle warmth of the sun bearing down on them both. There's no more pain, because his mother kissed it better, just like she said she would.

He sits up. Digs his toes into the white sand, looks out over the endless blue in front of him, sky and water, meeting at the horizon far from here, before he turns and looks at the woman beside him. His mother.

"I've missed you," he says, "Please don't leave", and his voice cracks like he hasn't seen her in a long time, but he can't remember ever being away from her, can't remember anything but this moment, right here.

"Oh baby," she says, and her arms are around him. They don't reach all the way around his shoulders, and for a second there is a fleeting memory of another hug, a lifetime ago, where his shoulders were smaller, where he was smaller, but as soon as it appeared it fades. "I won't leave you, ever again."

There's seagulls and a blue sky, cool waves meeting warm sand and his mother's arms around him, and everything feels right.

He buries his face in her long, blonde hair as she murmurs in his ear, "You're finally home."

[disasterousduo]

July 16th au

Ch.1 The Death of the Children 

Sunny’s view

Today was like any other day, except the children were being shitty little impossible to work with. Not to mention, when I called them for nap time, they all ran away…. If only Moon were here…

“Hey kids, nap time’s calling! It’s not hide-and-seek o’clock; let’s cozy up for some Z’s!” I call out to the kids. 

Nothing.

Suddenly, I see one of the kids on the play structures.

“HEY, GET DOWN FROM THERE! IT’S NOT SAFE UP HIGH!” I yell up, and as I do, I hear the kid giggling.

After I get the kid down, I start looking for the other children. I find them in places like inside the slides, in the little house, behind the security table, in the ball pit, etc… 

Once I get all of the kids gathered by the blue table near the little house, I try to calm them all down.

“Alright, everyone. How about we-“

Suddenly, all the kids are yelling things like, “I don’t want to sleep!” “Nap time is boring!” “I hate naps!” “I’m not tired!" “I want to keep playing! “Nap time is for babies!” at the same time.

Then one of them threw one of the plastic balls from the ball pit. All of the kids started laughing… and that was all I hear before I blacked out.

Eclipse’s view

Sun was taking care of the shitty little brats when I zone out. When I snap back to reality, all I could hear was yelling. ‘What the hell is going on out there?’ I look through Sun’s mind, and all I can see are the brats being brats. I thought of just enjoying the show, or killing the annoying urchins, when I thought of a plan.

I take over Sun without any second thought and without encountering any issues.

“M.. mister Sun?” I hear one of the kids say.

“Mister Sun isn’t hear right now…” I hiss, smiling.

I can sense all of their fear… and I love it.

Then I kill them, one by one… Oh, how I love to hear their screams of pain and agony.

When they were all dead, I give back control to Sun.

Sunny’s view

When I come back, I see all of the kids…….. dead.

‘What happened?? Did… did I..?’

‘You did this, Sun… this is all your fault…’

I fall to the floor, tears in my eyes.

(also thx you @crumpet-doodles for the background to the drawing I made)

[most-normal-eccles-cake-ignorer]

Darkness Lane by Joan Hassall [ x ] - the piece that most inspired my recent woodcut-style piece.

When I found out I was drawing for @gorgeousundertow's regency AU fic, Half Agony, Half Hope, as part of the @ineffableidiotsbigbang, I started looking up Jane Austen novel illustrations for inspiration and ended up finding some really cool art and websites! I'm posting about some of the images and resources I found because I think it may be interesting to others too (and even if it isn't, I'll have gotten the infodump out of my system haha).

Illustrations from Mansfield Park by Joan Hassall [ x ]

The link above points to a gallery on pemberley.com which has deliciously old-school DIY website HTML and a wealth of Jane Austen illustrations, as well as references for regency clothing. This was where I discovered Joan Hassall's work and decided I wanted to do a woodcut style piece (and then subsequently regretted it many times during the process of making it because I had no idea what I was doing). The detail, visual texture and dramatic lighting in her work is so cool and I just got more obsessed the more I saw.

See more Joan Hassall on tumblr via @uwmspeccoll (a very cool account!) here, here, and here.

The gallery on pemberley.com also had a bunch of Charles Edmund Brock illustrations, which I could not get enough of and so returned to the searchpage and found Molland's Circulating-Library. SO COOL! Jane Austen fans have bought illustrated editions of her novels and uploaded scans of them and oh my gosh they are all so beautiful.

Northanger Abbey watercolour illustrations by C.E. Brock [ x ]

Side note about Henry Tilney (Catherines' love interest in NA), I also came across this old fan page for him from a mostly-broken-links-now site called THE CULT OF DA MAN and um it's great haha, check it out. (reviews of artists representations of him, more delicious HTML, and pixel art (!) of da aforementioned man)

There's also an article on Molland's about Charles and Henry Brock and their Jane Austen works that I found interesting. Charles is better known and did far more JA illustrations, but I do really enjoy Henry's tinted line pieces! (the article also dunks on some bad reproductions of them haha)

Pride & Prejudice tinted line illustrations by H.M. Brock [ x ]

C.E. Brock also did really cool title pages and when I found out that fic banners were a thing I knew what I wanted to do! (with the help of the symmetry tool and undo haha, so much respect for traditional art)

Title pages illustrated by C.E. Brock [ x ] and my banner - the banner design uses elements of both of the Brock images.

So, research in hand/bookmarks folder and banner completed, I decided on a scene from Chapter 10 where our beloveds are standing beside the Thames in the moonlight after walking around London for hours together and talking (CUTE). I wasn't sure what buildings to include in the background, so @gorgeousundertow gave me a few suggestions: Old Southwark Bridge, London Bridge, Southwark Cathedral, and Clink Prison. I realized after a bit of sketching that bridges would be hard to show with the straight-on view I wanted to do, so I decided on the Cathedral, partially because I had also considered drawing a scene that takes place in Salisbury Cathedral in Ch. 7.

OK BUT HOW? I struggled finding reference images for a while until I realized this was LONDON and would be very Google Earth-able. Big ups to Frank Cosgrove, whoever they are, for uploading this haha. This was also where I found out that all the suggestions were from a very small area!

View of Borough High Street, London, 1830, by George Scharf [ x ]

The building in front of the cathedral looked too new, so I went searching for an older image and found the second image. It's a completely different angle but it was enough to get me past the 'oh no idk what do'.

the much brighter concept vs the much darker finished product, featuring a barely-visible Southwark Cathedral

While looking for images of the Thames pre-Google Earth, I also found this website called Dictionary Of Victorian London which has a whole bunch of old images and excerpts from newspapers, etc on a variety of topics. One of the categories, Sex > 'unnatural offences', had this excerpt from The Times (1863), which reads:

Thomas Lane, a coffeehouse keeper, No.9, Love-lane, Eastcheap, city, and James Mortimer, a seaman, were charged with unlawfully meeting each other to commit an unnatural offence. ... The Magistrate committed both prisoners for trial.

Ugh. I hate that so much. Some sexy stuff happens right after the moment I'd chosen, and reading that reminded me that such things would be much more comfortable and safe in darkness (or if ppl just stopped being homophobic, but barring that). I wanted them to feel alone, like the whole world was asleep and it was just them, outside of time.

With that in mind, the iconic Thames Walk Lamp had to go bye bye, and when rendering the background I tried to minimize any light - it's just the suggestion of buildings. I also added tree cover! I tried to imitate how Joan Hassall does trees in some of her artwork, but when she rendered trees like this they were usually farther away/smaller, so my version looks more stylized with how prominent they are.

The ribbon border and book quote presentation is of course more Brock, but by making it black and having the interior image use it as a border instead of a fade-out inside it, I made it a bit of a reference to the very cool foliage edges you see in the very first Hassall image at the top.

I used the procreate brushes from this post on the Procreate Folio forums if anyone wants to try them!

Also fun fact! The font for the quote is called Chanson D'Amour <3 (I initially downloaded it when making the banner before changing the banner font to one called Dark & Black)

------

That's all I have to say about the process for the piece, but here's a comic from Dictionary Of Victorian London, Thames > Sanitary condition that I thought was cute (and gross ig? but also cute):

a Punch comic from 1850, I can't link the page due to how the website URL system works but it's from the Thames > Sanitary condition page

[eggsploded]

HOMESTUCK AND STAR TREK? :O

oh baby this posts gonna be long

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

HS: aradia and sollux. aradia is my favorite forever as my patron troll and sollux is just fun to draw because whys he look like that

ST: all the cardassians in general. garak is the best, im honestly more fascinated with andrew robinson himself and his dedication to the character. also damar who doesnt get much presence until later seasons and gets crushed by actually giving a fuck about his position. i took a shot of kanar (maple syrup) for his honor and it was agony.

dukat is excluded from this because he managed to curse the show into buffering on his face everytime i watched.

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

HS: probably the beta kids before playing sburb. theyre all just little kids and best friends forever and it makes me tear up- in pesterquest dave literally talks about jade like shes his girlfriend that goes to a different school. all the kids were more than eager to see eachother in person and it sucks that it happened under the circumstances of.. homestuck

i dont have cuteness aggression for them theyve been through enough :-(

ST: in TNG's the enemy geordi helps out this genuinely pitiful romulan dude thats shaking like a chihuahua and i felt so much for that guy i wish he came back

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

HS: i think people are finally past portraying kanaya as a nothingburger, it was kind of funny 10 years ago that people were falling into her flimsy veil of Perceived Normalcy, like she doesnt regularly bite her friends and wasnt unforgivably delulu about vriska when they were moirails.

truly underrated might be the felt? their designs tickle me

ST: damar? maybe hes got more content now idk. honorable mentions are: keiko obrien, worfs parents (my favorite tng ep), hugh, the cardassian scientists that hit on obrien that one time, lwaxana troi and keevan.

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

HS: any of signless' crew. like. we got shafted so hard with the dancestors its crazy. in my wildest dreams psiioniic didnt get utterly crushed by the vast glub and somehow escaped at the ripe age of 2000 sweeps and is now overgrown and too old and ancient for his own good, squatting in solluxs hive. we didnt get much content about how signless did his recruiting- did he just do speeches and demonstrations? did he fuck nasty? i know for sure it wasnt the cringe dialogue they strapped kankri with. same goes for dolorosas life before she raised signless, she should be at the club.

ST: background vulcans. especially in TNG when they just stopped giving a fuck about them, thank god tuvok exists or i wouldve had no incentive at all to actually watch part of VOY.

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

HS: equius. its really a special day when a character cant be quantified with a simple archetype like the rest of the trolls. theres something so deeply strange and wrong with him that its captivating, i chalk it up to being the horse guy in a insect body.

hussie also just like, had it out for him at day one. gamzee got beaten to a pulp narratively but equius didnt even get a chance. its sad, and im more interested in what he couldve been rather than someone like eridan or meenah.

ST: kai winn. shes literally an alien white woman and its fantastic. she did her role so good that the poor actress got hatemail, and her insidiousness is just so well done. the final season of ds9 isnt that good but it was fun to see her go off the rails with dukat.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

HS: what do i look like? hussie? in truth when it comes to being a flop i like seeing kanaya flounder. shes weird guys. she is so fucking weird and she doesnt really know because her friends are Weirder. we dont always need her to slay, atleast in my book.

ST: riker. no further notes

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

HS: jake. if he has a deeper character i havent noticed because my eyes glaze over trying to read through this dialogue. he feels like a leftover shitpost character hussie couldnt fit on the dancestors. i havent reread act 6 yet, but i remember such a large chunk being some strange love triangle-square surrounding jake and i did Not Give a Fuck, and salt in the wound was dirk and janes friendship being so fantastic but overshadowed by jakes unceasing sex appeal cursing them.

ST: obrien because it was be a standard episode plot for him, i think hed come out fine

[dandelionterminal]

Invisible String Part 6 - Chapter 3: Her Mate, Contemplating

link to next part

“Time passes differently in Hell. It is part of the divine punishment from the forgiving creator. Those put into Hell watch as those in the living realm age slowly, while they age rapidly. By the time a human is a teenager, a demon is an adult.” Malphas thought to himself as he tidied the dining hall. “ We stay children for longer and then rapidly grow. We are denied the joy of adolescence.” 

Not that Malphas thought it was a joy. He watched his master stumble his way through it daily. It was a time of agony for humans, but also a time of discovery. Rather than discover themselves as adolescents, demons were denied a complete soul until they bonded with their soulmates. It was not uncommon for demons to hunt down their soulmates by following the thread tied to their neck. It was golden and shimmering, bound tightly to a demon’s neck. It was connected to the wrist of a human or another demon. 

It was rare that it was a human that held the other end of the thread, but when it was in the possession of a human it caused the human immense hardship. The human would possess abilities that would isolate them. Human mates were often sent to asylums as children due to their abilities being misunderstood as hallucinations or delusions. They would feel detached from other humans because of their abilities. They would draw in other spirits and demons that would cause trouble for them because of their energy. That was likely what happened to the DuPont family. 

Demons ran in packs, or families. Powerful demons took younger, weaker ones under their wings and provided protection. This included mates. The families shared a nest, usually a cave system with many branches. The caves were decorated in warm torchlight and furs. Gemstones and treasures from the human realm were hoarded in the caves, trophies of their contracts. 

Malphas sighed recalling his home. While he was under contract as Sebastian Michaelis he could not take Adelaide to his home in Hell to protect her. She would be in danger even more so now that she was connected to his master. Under normal circumstances, she would have never met his contract, at least until she consumed enough demonic energy to be strong enough to protect herself. And then there was her brother, who was clearly another demon’s mate. He knew his mate would not willingly leave the boy. 

He tugged on the thread that glimmered around his neck. He would have to find a way to protect his mate and his master at the same time while also ensuring that the young DuPont boy found his demonic other half so Adelaide would go with him to Hell. This was getting quite complicated. 

-

Malphas followed the golden thread until he found it, which led to a closed door. A washroom, to be exact. He took advantage of his advanced hearing and listened in through the door. 

“Honestly Mey-Rin, you don’t have to accompany me every time I enter the bath,” he heard his mate say. 

“Oh but you come from a noble background, my lady, you may need help,” he heard the easily flustered maid’s shrill voice squeak out. Under normal circumstances, he would be the one taking care of his mate. He would take over all aspects of her care including washing her, feeding her, grooming her… A demon takes over all aspects of serving their mate and contracts. It is a point of pride for the species. However, the time period did not allow for him to enter the room while his mate was in undress. Truly, the sense of prudeness in the era was extraordinary. He placated that urge by brushing her hair in the evening. 

“I am quite capable. You would be surprised what you learn when you have to live without servants to aid you,” his mate responded wistfully. That bothered the demon, that his mate had to endure hardship. When she had shown up that evening, gaunt and pale, for the first time in his life he felt horror and shock. Feeling such a range of emotions was startling for the demon. 

“If you would like to stay, though, Mey-Rin, I would not mind the company,” his mate said with a giggle. “We can talk about that obvious crush you have on Sebastian.” 

That gave Malphas pause. He knew that the maid had feelings for him, much like many of the mortal women he encountered, but he did not expect Adelaide to encourage it when she knew what he was. “W-what ever are you talking about, my lady?” the red-haired maid stammered out. He heard water splash as his mate laughed. 

“It’s not a secret, Mey-Rin, we can all see it.”

“Even so… he is not interested in someone like me,” Mey-Rin responded, her chest deflated. 

“Oh don’t say that,” Adelaide said, water splashing as she turned in the tub. “You’re beautiful, Mey-Rin. In France, we would call you une magnifique rose .” 

Mey-Rin oohed and ahhed at that. “Oh my lady your French is so pretty, yes it is,” she said. 

Adelaide laughed at that. Malphas absorbed that laugh with a small smile and let it echo in his mind as he walked away. He would have to find a way to protect her while he was away. 

-

Once the house had settled into a slumber, Malphas began his work. He thought of who he could ask for assistance. He could ask his mentor, the one who had helped to raise him into the Elder demon that he was, but that involved summoning the demon. However, under the cover of darkness, it would not be hard to establish a brief communication with him. He may have to swallow his pride and ask for assistance from his old mentor. 

When his mentor had brought home a human woman from a contract millennia ago, Malphas had been startled. Andrealphus had never shown interest in the sin of lust. In fact, Malphas had chosen to be mentored by the Elder demon because they shared a dislike of the sin. Andrealphus then explained that the human woman, Chloris, was his mate. He taught Malphas how to see auras and the threads. He saw the shining gold thread tied tightly around his mentor’s throat and panicked, thinking it would kill his mentor. He was still young and naive, unaware that such a simple thing would not hurt the demon. His mentor had laughed at him and told him he had one too and that in due time he could stand on the barrier to see them. 

-

Malphas lit a fire in the fireplace and waited until the coals were simmering and glowing to recite the incantation. When he did, his disgruntled mentor’s face molded into the coals. 

“Malphas, this better be important,” the man said. His voice was as gruff as always. The peacock feathers in his hair flared in agitation. 

“I assure you it is, mentor,” Malphas said. “I have found my mate.”

“Congratulations. Is that all?” the older demon asked.

“No, you see… my master is rather troublesome, always in danger and needing protection. How can I protect them both at once?”

“Straight to the point. Good, I like that. Just give your mate one of your feathers. Then you can feel if they are in danger. If that is all, goodbye,” the elder demon faded from the coals, leaving ash and a peacock feather behind. 

-

Feathers may be a fashionable item, but not in every situation. Malphas doubted that Adelaide would willingly wear a black feather at all times. He would have to make it discreet so that it could be hidden underneath her clothes. He would have to monitor her for a while longer until he could gather her likes and dislikes. 

“We will be back shortly,” his master said, exiting the manor. “Try not to destroy the place while I am away,” he said, addressing his servants.

“I will watch them, young lord,” Adelaide said, curtsying.

“Yes, I trust you to keep them in line, Adelaide. Do not let them injure Luca like they did last time,” Ciel said. 

“Oh trust me, they won’t,” Adelaide said, a fake and menacing smile on her face. 

"Good ," Malphas thought. " She has the malice of a demon ."

[bureauofoutstandingbalance]

This is an old animatic to the song Rule #21 - Momento Mori that I scrapped but I still really loved the thumbnails I made for it. Also a bonus Klargg and Brian. I should post more of my animatics because I’ve made a couple…

[ID: Two colorless grayscale photos containing multiple drawings of The Adventure Zone Balance. Ambiguous spoilers for Petals to the Metal and onwards with no context. In the first photo, there are 16 thumbnails. In the second photo, Klargg has a small smile and is holding a cup of Oolong tea. Magic Brian is smiling and waving as he says, “hullo hullo welcome to my cave.” Behind him is Killian in a spiderweb. Below is a description of the 16 thumbnails.

1: A faraway shot of Gundren Rockseeker’s silhouette engulfed in flames. He is wearing the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet and raising the hand that has it on. Underneath reads the lyrics “ashes to ashes.” 2: A close-up side shot of the skeleton of Barry Bluejeans with his jaw dropped in shock and/or agony. He is surrounded by flames. Underneath reads the lyrics “dust to dust.” 3: A faceless Taako, Magnus Burnsides, and Merle Highchurch in that order standing in the back of the frame. In the foreground is a spilt glass cup laying on its side. Underneath reads the lyrics “filling up my coffee cup.” 4: Taako’s gloved hand holding the Umbra Staff with only his forearm in frame. Underneath reads the lyrics “one way to shake me up.” 5: A close up of an enraged Red Robe’s form visibly quaking. Underneath reads the lyrics “I never wanted to sleep.” 6: The Voidfish floating in empty space. Underneath reads the lyrics “Oh I won’t forget.” 7: A faceless Kravitz surrounded by crystal. He is holding his scythe and his book of souls. Underneath reads the lyrics “momento mori, leaves a debt.” 8: Kravitz’ hand pointing left. In the background are crystals. Underneath reads the lyrics “you haven’t paid it yet” surrounded by quote marks. 9: The Red Robe’s hood is the only thing in frame. Underneath the lyrics read “I never wanted to sleep” surrounded by quote marks. 10: A far away shot of Refuge in the bubble. 11: The statue of Jack, June, and the Red Robe. 12: A close up of the Red Robe’s part of the statue. 13: A pinboard with numerous strings connecting different papers. Underneath reads the lyrics “my brain was cynical.” 14: The Red Robe is inside of a cave. They are facing a tank with a silhouette inside. Underneath reads the lyrics “inside this massive hole.” 15: A close up of the silhouette floating in the tank. Underneath reads the lyrics “and then it swallowed me.” 16: The red robe back-to-back with a faceless figure. They are rotated on their sides. Underneath reads the lyrics “I never wanted to sleep.” /ID]

[lunaetis]

@scarletooyoroi asked :

a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim . (To Arlecchino, in the midst of a battlefield they molded into a hellscape. >:))

↪     𝑲𝑰𝑺𝑺  ﹠ ᵀᴱᴸᴸ . || accepting

─「アルレッキーノ」─  this GAME had gone too far.

                that was what the harbinger hear some of his comrades speak to him, some of the ones who had fought alongside the former fixer of inazuma in order to warn him from walking down this very path. the KNAVE watched the flame in his eyes grow dark as he ignored any and all warnings being offered his way. hearing the conversation with her own ears gave a more satisfying feeling with it, to know that he had long lost that sense of rationale and abandoned the need to be understood by his peers, by the people who cared for him, by his own comrades.

                how many fights ? how many battles ? how many encounters ? how much BLOOD had been shed ?

                it didn't matter, it didn't matter one bit !

                he had caught up to her, a feat so IMPRESSIVE that not even some of the best trackers could've achieved. the fourth harbinger could become a phantom if that was what she wanted. no one would be able to find her unless she willed them to, and for THIS BURNING SOUL ? her lips pulled into a menacing grin just at the thought of it. oh, she wanted him to find her. she left him clues, she left him crumbs to follow and he WOULD follow. he always would.

                hatred. attachment. competitiveness. obsession.

                " come on, come on, COME ON !! show me just how deep you've sunken. how blaring RED your ledger is, how CORRUPTED and TAINTED you are now !! " the entity within her eyes were howling in delight as their blades crossed, as their weapons clashed into one another that sparks were flying into the air. the heat of the battlefield was gradually rising, fueled by the FLAMES he littered to every grass the tip of his polearm touched. he was abandoning all cautions, all consequences, he was setting FIRE to the forest and the mountains that screamed in scorching agony.

                it was setting their stage, their background, their REAL-LIFE HELL.

                crimson crosses allowed her to appear behind him without warning, and whipped blade was swung to cut through his skin. the sanguine color splattered upon the flaming grass and embers scattered in the black-burning sky added to the hellish nightmare that became reality. the deadly game these two had engaged, the OBSESSION and darkness instilled into those once tender jade hues. it was her, it was her who corrupted him to the point of no return. and she LAUGHED, bellowing that continuous booming of cackles like a madwoman.

                oh, she was mad, she was absolutely INSANE.

                " SHOW ME WHAT YOU'VE BECOME, SHOW ME ALL OF IT, THOMA !! "

                and she felt it, the HARBINGER felt a violent grip against the whipped blade that cut into his gloved digits. the deep red staining his palm as crimson liquid dripped slowly onto his palm. the former fixer didn't seem to care about it, about the wounds, about the pain, nor the blood. all his whole ATTENTION was drawn to was her. his eyes were only on her. fangs flashed against the flaming backdrop for a split second, and he YANKED her towards him —

                — for their lips to clash against one another. it was violent, wild, unhinged. not an ounce of tenderness, only POSSESSIVENESS as his bloodied lips claimed hers over and over. again and again, tongues and fangs, BITES and more. like a beast that he was, like a beast that she turned him into. a GROWLING, hungry beast with eyes only for her.

                and the knave snaked her gloved fingers through his messy dark blond locks, forming a TIGHT GRIP against his strands. fangs bared, before sinking into his mouth, drawing metallic taste to fill their kiss. it was a CLAIM, a seal, a mark on BOTH SIDES.

                the words were loud in both their heads, as the ENTITY fell silent for a split second.

                YOU'RE MINE MINE MINE. you belong to ME and ME alone.

[giordirossi]

TW: gore, violence, blood

--

Seduce and destroy remained her least favorable and yet somehow most successful method of luring in Russian filth. Pose as a lonely woman, stand at an upscale bar and pretend to look lost, wear something just tight enough to draw attention without being too obvious about it. Coupled with the occasional wig and anonymous nature of her work, it made for the perfect situation to slide a questionable cocktail across the counter and bat her lashes like a cosmopolitan Jack The Ripper.

They always slumped during the “walk to the car” segment. Nobody ever made it to the mouth of the alley before knees hit pavement and her backup swooped in to carry the not-quite-dead weight, stuffing them into a trunk and eventually escorting the unlucky contestant into her little gameshow of horrors. This shit was practically clockwork by now and while she much preferred the challenge of a good brawl in darkened corners, a knife to the ribcage typically made people less inclined to talk. Here, though? Here she could take her time and get a little... creative with the methodology of extraction until they were no longer of any interest.

Take the latest sad sack currently dangling by his wrists, twirling gracefully like a crimson coated music box figurine. Susceptible to the frigid temperature from last night and her continued games this afternoon, inching ever closer to desperate pleas for a mercy she couldn’t fathom. Experience attuned Giordana to the telltale signs, every shuddered breath and mewling whimper provided insight into what further agony a man’s body could take. Where his personal line existed, how close she traipsed along the edge of knocking him into useless oblivion. At least her hands were clean–– for now.

This one required further marinating and with an admonishing click of her tongue, she released the singular salvation between his mottled torso and the next fragment of suffering. Metal twisted against sinew in jagged spiral motions, further mangling what was once a shoulder.

His ensuing screams echoed along the warehouse’s walls like a most unholy choir, reverberating to the heavens and finding no response. Perhaps God really did choose favorites. The sound was a sickening alarm that might have turned over anyone else’s stomach, but Giordana sat unfazed and perched on a stool, reaching across a table of workman’s tools to pry her burner from the depths of a purse Vinnie bought for her this past Christmas.

Speed dial number one, it went straight to his own spare and he answered on the first ring. Typical. Some might infer that as a hallmark of their unwaveringly devoted friendship, she preferred to call it not having a life. All with an affectionate smirk, of course. “I’m thinking our usual spot at seven.” No greetings were necessary and her voice held the candor that accompanied casual dinner plans, despite any obvious shrieking in the background on her end.

“Oh dio, not there. The wait’s always an hour and it’s fucking French. The last thing I want tonight is––” Unmitigated howling followed by a slew of curses drew her attention away for a split second. “Do you mind? I’m on the phone.” As if her target had gone and inconvenienced a perfectly reasonable discussion. Not that she was the paragon of manners, but surely he could still use his one good eye to gauge the situation.

The glint of a needle and its accompanying thread sat untouched at the corner of her workbench, lithe fingertips reaching forward to trace the fabric and rolling it over with idle curiosity. “Anyway, just pick me up and we’ll play it by ear. Yeah? Good.” Relentless in all aspects of her life, consistency was key if nothing else. With that, the call ended and it became a party of two yet again as she pivoted the seat around to face her company.

Ironic, wasn’t it? How they deemed her the Russian of the Sovrani? She certainly didn’t recall being unwise enough to end up in these same straits, and while it had been years since teeth grit at the moniker, now her lips only pulled back into a voracious smile. Time to give her guest a taste of familiarity.

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #22: AUTOMATION 101 Because I Said So [Techy!] [And Other Ideas] 😎

I was thoughtful, so I did some simple math for the reason of mere curiosity and statistics. I counted the number of panels per chapter, just to see clearer what lies past and ahead of me, and to entertain myself. It turns out, the average number of the panels in every chapter for the chapters 1 to 4 is 92. Counting Chapters 3.1 and 3.2 as separate entities, just because they're basically two books anyway. It was a double chapter. ... Which means that for every more or less normal sized chapter I make I draw 92 separate little artworks, most of which have backgrounds and somewhat advanced, non-simplistic shading (although my latest art philosophy intends to go the opposite direction... but it only intends to do it, it does not necessarily do that very well yet, lol). Not just stick people. And here's the good part: Chapter 5 contains whooping 187 panels. The simple math tells you it's roughly double the original amount. Mostly because I needed to show the maniacal changes in Lothar's expression, the gradual changes, the agony. I hope those pretty numbers serve you well and answer the ultimate question of where the heck I disappear so frequently. And how much work it is. For one person. (and yet, I honestly think I do quite well regardless) Obviously, I disappear into "Time & Again". That is the right answer. That's how it's supposed to be for an artist working on something that is incredibly important to them 😁

But enough numbers, here are some exciting (and also facially hilarious) snippets from the storyboard! (of course, includes censorship by The Author, because Lothar never stops cursing)

With the page by page script fully storyboarded by now, I took a small detour on my road to Chapter 6.

Within the last few days, I set to work on the two important tasks, one of which is already accomplished by now.

The first task - the one that's done - was to mass process a tremendous amount of older artworks for the grand reupload (larger than the number of the panels in Chapter 5 - and that's sayin' something! 😱). I had 138 older artworks that I needed to resize and reapply a watermark on top; plus additional 77 to perform the same very task on afterwards. Why that is needed is a secret for now. But it will definitely see the light of day soon-ish (hopefully). ... As you can already guess, doing all of that manually would've been yet another nightmare - especially since my memories of going through pain and real hell of adding full bleed to "Time & Again" are still fresh in my mind, and hot like cakes straight from the oven... Also, of course, I didn't feel like dedicating a whole bloody month doing just that either, when I have Chapter 6 on the go as well as a transformation of Chapter 4 (more on the matter is just below). That's why I urgently needed automation of sorts. I'm a little surprised to discover that in my older post about how I prepared "Time & Again" for paper printing I totally skipped talking about an incredibly useful plugin for Krita that's called Krita Batch Exporter, made by GDQuest (whose videos I actually watched a few years back when I still worked on my game about the sleepy knight... but alas, as you might guess, the game never happened. oh well). Even though the plugin originally is aimed at indie game devs, it proved to be useful to me when I was working on full bleed areas for my chapters and when I needed to match them to the final print size. TL;DR: I simply opened all the pages of my graphic narrative as multiple layers, mass resized them all, and then batch exported layer by layer with the help of that very plugin. Simple and fast. Thank you so very much, GDQuest! 🌻 But alas, with the task that was ahead of me this time, with the supermassive number of random artworks that varied in size and aspect ratio GREATLY, that trick most likely wouldn't have worked. Instead, I braved learning the usage of ImageMagick command line utility. I was thinking about using it to batch edit and import "Time & Again" for printing, too, but back then I was not brave enough and didn't want to bother. This time, I urgently needed to learn. For a tech savvy person such as myself - who is a hardcore Doom nerdist who practiced modding not once but twice and thrice (and still does it 😁), a person with a lot of experience making older programs work on newer Windows, it was not very difficult. Yet, it still required some dancing with a tambourine around a table before everything started to work like a charm, and, of course, asking my Editor-In-Chef for guidance. I will even share my incredibly simple batch file code:

magick mogrify -filter Lanczos -resize "1200x1200>" *.png magick mogrify -filter Lanczos -resize "1200x1200>" *.jpg pause

to batch resize (and override!) all the PNG and JPG files to 1200 pixels wide or high depending on the original aspect ratio (unless they're already smaller), using Lanczos scaling method that proved very useful for downsizing the larger pieces to produce clean result. Afterwards, I needed to take my signature watermark and stamp it on top of all the downscaled artworks. I started working on the code for the image overlay in ImageMagick... And then, working on something totally different, I found out that IrfanView can do that for me. And unlike ImageMagick, IrfanView has UI (whatever will you do?.. I am indeed a person who has to see things in front of me, even though I'm not scared of CMD 😁). IrfanView is simply fantastic. It reads lots of different file types, it saves the watermark settings, and it works very fast. Adding my watermark to all those files was super easy and quick. And I only spent, like, one day doing all of that instead of a month of work manually 😁 Whooohoooo! I cannot verbally describe how rejoiced I am! (And I think I also used IrfanView to work on my Doom mod... that's why I installed that nice piece of software. Peanut Butter Jelly Time!.. Aaah, memories)

So that is done! Now you just gotta wait for all these 138 + 77 = 215 artworks to reappear in the internet sometime this year for everyone's happiness 😉

I am also glad that earlier this year I have discovered that Inkscape now supports batch export of layers natively - which is INCREDIBLY useful for my project (because I always start from arranging text and speech bubbles on multiple layers in Inkscape before porting everything to Krita for further work).

The second task bears a huge importance: I am polishing and slightly expanding Chapter 4 for the "Clean Cut Edition". The feedback on the chapter I have received earlier from my early access readers indicated a certain lack of hints... It was actually meant to be fairly vague to begin with. However, Chapter 4 was the only chapter for now that had a few outtakes from the script I wrote. I figured that I could fill in the gaps and make it easier to understand via the addition of a small (by my standards, lol) passage of text, aside from adding "Notes, Hints & Commentary" section. Ironically or not, all things considered, I simply decided to restore the cut content that was originally present - the content that I excluded for a truly naïve and dumb reason of keeping the page count intact (and, as we could see as of lately and thanks to my math above, Chapter 5 broke all those limitations and standards of yore anyways). Now I'm sad that I dissected my script without a weighty reason back then. But good news! I'm restoring all of that for the Clean Cut Edition! AND now with commentaries 😁 As for now, all the text and panel placement is decided on, and the only thing I have to do is to draw extra faces of Lothar and [redacted for the reason of spoilers for those who haven't yet read it] to portray a proper conversation between the two. And I think that the extra pages fit in quite nicely, too.

And aside from that, I also worked on a random artwork featuring Lothar. Here's the teaser; the full version will be uploaded soon.

And down below there's a bit more stuff I'd like to share today (even though I started writing it a few days ago, so idea simply accumulated in my head), in a form of expanded theses:

Since I don't want to stretch it all out as it sometimes happens with my endeavours, and there's no actually useful AI that might help me speed up the process, I think I'm going to try something peculiar this time, and it might sound... well... a bit crazy. I've been thinking about that for a while already (quite certainly, since the times I used to be an active DeviantArt user, which makes it approximately... 15 years by now?! wowza!!!), but never really had a chance to try out that approach. I was thinking about dropping the sketching phase completely. Earlier I've mentioned that, when I work on the comic pages in digital workspace once the approximate sketching and paneling on paper is all done, normally I work "in stages", outlining the panels in Inkscape first, then gradually working my way from sketches to lineart and, finally, to colouring, in segments. So I'm thinking about skipping the sketching part completely and doing the final lineart right away - simply because it will save me time. And quite possibly, a lot of time. AND time is a precious resource - so said Winston, and they were right. I understand that that might not be a good idea - but the student must learn sometime and through intense practice, right? And since I wished for that since a near immeasurable time ago, but then never ended up doing that for a reason unbeknownst even to myself - then it's probably the time to do it. Well, I'm looking forward to an adventure. I promise there will be no eyes on different height or any other fancy-schmansy stuff, and no extra fingers. With my demands to the quality it's near impossible - of course, unless intended. 😁 (I will still do simple sketches first for the complex views and angles. Otherwise everything will look crooked. Come on. I'm not that proficient yet.)

Ever since the development of Chapter 6 has been started, and its plot was in the stage of an embryo, my research lead me to a fairly solid conclusion that Lothar is a sociopath. He passes the test quite well and complies with numerous criteria wonderfully, I don't even have to doubt that. Heck, I don't even know if I like Lothar anymore... That Ar*****ch has done some very questionable stuff in Chapter 5. I just want him to put himself together and finally move on, preferably in a somewhat positive direction. This is also one of the reasons why I want to finish "Time & Again" - to help Lothar redeem himself. Come on, dude. Get in the effing robot... Eeeerrrr... Please don't take that too far though; that was just a figure of speech.

That's enough for today. See you soon 😁

[thenewnio]

Fantasia Knights funny moments from my favorite episodes

Lucky, Lucky Snake

Think Kaa is safe from being put through the wringer as a human? Think again.

Enzo: (to Human!Kaa, who is sprawled on the ground, unconscious) You okay there, buddy?

Birds of a Feather

This exchange, after they save Iago from the angry merchant:

Iago: Who are you guys?

Taylor: (gently) We’ve come to save you. Come with us…

(A beat, before Iago abruptly flies off)

Iago: Don’t talk ta me wit’ that voice!

Enzo: (shit-eating grin) A bird just rejected you, dude.

Genie’s first appearance, when he flies into the room and jubilantly hugs Kian, mistaking him for Aladdin. At one point he asks, “Hey Al, did you get shorter?”

“We’ve got a slight problem: Aladdin and Iago swapped species, so Al’s now a blue macaw, and Iago’s… the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Iago: I AINT’ CUTE!

“BY THE POWERS THAT BE, I COMMAND YOU TO RETURN TO NORMAL!!!”

Human!Iago taking advantage of his situation while passing himself off as Jasmine’s brother. And it is amazing.

Iago: Ya might wanna be a bit nicer to me, considering the fact that I AM THE ONE IN CHARGE!

“YOU FOOL!”

Iago assumes that, because he’s a human now, he can approach Rajah without getting pounced on, as he attempts to secretly sic him on a stuck-up young caliph. However, Rajah knows who the red-haired boy is. No points for guessing how that turns out.

Iago: (to the caliph while noticeably battered) You win this round, bub.

Iago’s rant as he starts angrily stripping off the “royal” outfit Genie zapped up for him: “A dog show is where I DRAW THE LINE!”

And said “princely” outfit is what Human!Iago wore in the Broadway musical of Aladdin.

And Iago is wearing those clothes over what he was wearing when he became human.

This gem:

Enzo: YO, BIRD BOY!

Iago: WHAT?! (Realizes he just gave away his location to the Knights)

And immediately afterward Enzo tackles him like a football player.

“Words of wisdom” from Iago:

Iago: Sometimes, you just gotta run like heck from your problems.

The entire chase through the bazaar to rescue Iago from Muge’s mooks. Highlights include:

The burning fireworks cart.

The food merchant behind them ignoring the scene right in front of him and going on with his job. Obviously, this type of thing happens quite often in Agrabah.

Once Genie is called upon, things really get hysterical. The faces on Muge’s servants add to the hilarity.

Muge, as it turns out, is not happy upon learning that her retainers have kidnapped Iago.

Turan: Now, which is worse? Inconveniencing Agrabah, or dying alone and single?

Muge: KIDNAPPING THE PRINCESS’S BROTHER, YOU MORONS!

And in the background, Iago is trying unsuccessfully to free himself from the sack he’s been tied up in from the neck down, to no success. At one point, he tries chewing through the ropes, only to stop when he almost accidentally strangles himself.

An exasperated Iago desperately confessing that he’s not actually Jasmine’s brother, but a parrot. Muge’s disbelieving reaction is priceless.

“Wait, there’s more! I’M SCUM! I once had a psychopath boss, I gamble at the Nest Egg, I ALREADY GOT A GIRL IN THE RAINFOREST!!!”

“TEN THOUSAND YEARS OF AGONY UPON YE!!!” (Ass Shove) “Oops.”

Where the Deer and the Antelope Play

Enzo entering the saloon, making one hell of an impression:

Patron: Hey! Are you the fella who took down them Stonehart brothers?

Enzo: Yeah, I got ‘em with one bullet.

Patron#2: All seven of them?

Enzo: ...Yup. All seven of 'em.

The story he comes up with to explain his supposed feat is pretty hilarious too (what we get to hear of it, anyway).

Enzo: Bullet hits the pickaxe, ricochets back towards Stonehart number three, and THAT'S WHEN THE ROOF CAVED IN, igniting the fuel, instantly vaporizing his bodily form, leaving nothing but a burnt-black husk.

Patron#3: Hold on there, that's only six. What happened to number seven?

Enzo: Oh, well, obviously he died of gangrene.

After Maggie, Mrs. Calloway and Grace are turned human, Calloway demands that they be changed back. Taylor asks Enzo for the Animal Artifact:

Enzo: Ya mean the big, shiny medallion with the mouse insignia?

Taylor: Uh-huh.

Enzo: Exactly like the one those rustlers stole?

Taylor: Yup.

Enzo: ...Well, it got stolen.

Taylor: (Seeing Mrs. Calloway’s Tranquil Fury) So it did.

A great chunk of jokes in this episode are of Pearl’s girls getting used to their new human bodies:

Their first attempt at two-legged walking. Insert QWOP jokes here.

Mrs. Calloway tries to compose herself and look as dignified as possible... and comically walks right into the closed door.

Human Maggie taking a bite of an ear of corn like a cow and a passerby giving her a "WTF?" look.

And earlier, in a Funny Background Event, she’s clearly checking out her.... uh... “human udders.” And then she motions Grace over for a look. Both are clearly unimpressed at what they see.

When the Knights and bovine-turned-humans spot Jose, Maggie gets down on all fours and prepares to charge him.

When the group comes across the Granger Gang’s secret lair, and River is inspecting the locked entrance.

River: This is either gonna take a lot of our magic, or some good lockpicking skills to-

Maggie: UH OH, CLUMSY ME! (shoulder smashes down the door)

(River stands there with a shocked look on her face)

The entire chase/fight scene with the Granger Gang and the heroes counts as both a CMOF and CMOA.

This exchange:

Kian: Who wants a story where the bad guys win?

Jose: I do! It’s called a ‘change of pace’! Let me spell it out for ya: We’ve got you outnumbered! Right boys? (turns around to see the rest of the gang running away screaming) ...Boys? Aw, dangit!

[brazenlystrong]

His desire is maddening, a fever that roots deep and devours his composure piece by piece. It leaves him both spellbound and restless, as if he is bound to him by strings only he can feel. Thoughts of him soak into him for days, welcome and unwelcome, unrelenting like wildfire.

Every detail about Suguru feels exaggerated to the point of agony—the curve of his lips, the cadence of his voice, the effortless way he moves through the world as if it's his. It could frustrate Satoru, it could make him fall further in love. As though his very presence turns the air electric, suffocating and alive, and Satoru is hopeless against the draw of it.

Trying to get over Suguru feels like tearing roots from the deep, frozen earth, an impossible extraction that would only leave Satoru wounded. He tried to let go, but memories of him crept in with the stealth of shadows. Some days, his absence is a dull background hum, but then something as small as his scent would drag him back, plunging him into a swirl of feelings he'd thought were fading. Satoru knows the pain is destroying him, carving out pieces of his heart, yet he clings to it like a lifeline. The ache became a familiar rhythm, a constant companion, filling the emptiness left behind. It is sharp and consuming, but at least it is something. At least it makes him feel.

In this kiss, there is the weight of a thousand unsaid things. His soul recognizes Suguru’s, every nerve in his body becomes ignited. As the hand makes contact with Satoru's abdomen, it would encounter the firmness of well-defined muscles. Each ridge and contour is clearly delineated. The skin, hot and smooth, expanding over the sculpted muscles, emphasizing the tonicity of his physique. Satoru's left hand moves to grab Suguru's waist. Fingers press firmly into his side, his leg equally pushing into him to increase friction, as if he can’t bear the smallest distance between them. He can sense the metallic edge of the piercing gliding under his tongue, introducing a new layer of texture that’s foreign and oddly enticing. This is new…

And once the kiss is broken and he takes his first breath, it’s cut midway with a sharp gasp from the warm, pliant tongue tracing the curve of his throat, leaving a cool sensation on his skin. His right hand slides upward, finding its way to the back of Suguru’s neck, threading into his hair. His digits curl into the silky, dark strands, gripping tightly at the roots, holding him in place. There is nothing gentle in his touch, only fierce hunger woven into every inch of contact.

“ Oh, look at you with that piercing—trying to add a little edge to your kisses, are we? ” A witty retort for that deliciously daring playfulness that he emanates naturally. He realizes they’ve not moved away from the door, clearly due to his impatience.

“ Oops, my bad for holding us up at the door. Let’s take this to the bedroom, shall we? ” The words come out with a familiar boldness, a confident clarity that slices through any pretense. They both know exactly how this will end, so he isn’t going to just tiptoe around it. The hand in Suguru’s hair loosens its grip but the other remains on his waist as he sidesteps and gestures for them to go ahead. The phantom sensation of the metal barbell against the outline of his throat has stirred something wild within him—instincts that would be difficult to resist responding to from this point on.

THE BLUE IS A TEMPEST, BOTH challenging and inviting, and suguru has been helplessly caught in his throes from day one. satoru's face in his mind while he sleeps. satoru's hands, satoru's hair, satoru's teeth, his tongue—

—his tongue in suguru's mouth, now, seeking and forceful against his own within a kiss that feels like a siege. during the early days of training, when he and satoru sparred, suguru learned quickly that every fight is a conversation. in its wordless exchange, conversational armor cannot hold up; you can’t deflect or lie. people pour their feelings into their blows and they cannot stop themselves, and oftentimes after a battle, the two opponents leave knowing more about each other than when they started. 

a kiss is no different. as soon as satoru’s lips are on his, suguru can feel what he feels: the frantic greed of love-on-a-timer, the tension and frustration and heat, the longing, longing, longing of two lovers forced apart. satoru is about to overflow. he is a creature with a toothy snarl held back by the force of sheer will, by the lack of permission — a permission he now has. suguru has taken the key and opened that cage; he stands in the direct path of the beast, and lets it open his throat. 

suguru’s hands slip under the hem of satoru’s shirt and he drags his fingertips up the other man’s abdomen, over every ridge of taut and corded muscle. the nails dig in sharply at the feeling of satoru’s leg pressed up between his own; suguru moans into the kiss, low and quiet, and rolls his hips into the touch in greedy desperation for friction as his arousal strains against the fabric of his pants. 

satoru may be ready to take everything he has, but suguru is a glutton to the bone. he swallows the sins of humanity and they corrupt his insides and he does it more, takes the pain, takes the suffering, takes and takes and takes until he is nothing but rot — and then he does it again. he is a restrained man, and a patient one, but there is an edge to him as sharp as a knife, and he is not afraid to make satoru bleed a little until he is seized and ordered to stop.

the push and pull of their kiss heightens his longing more by the second. suguru extends his tongue further, drags the metal ball pierced through the middle across the bottom of satoru’s as a bit of a tease. it’s new, only a month old, the healing sped up by a clandestine visit to shoko after satoru’s last visit. he has been looking forward to this moment since the day he decided to get it done.

the kiss only breaks when suguru feels his lungs spasming from the reduced intake of air. when they finally do, he ducks his head and drags the newly-textured tongue up the side of satoru’s throat, following the line of the jugular vein until he reaches the shell of his ear. a whisper, low and throaty: ❝ i thought you might like that. consider it a gift. ❞

[concert-bflat]

So I’m almost finished with my second playthrough of a game called Fire Emblem Awakening and I decided I wanted to draw two of my favorites (Click if quality is shitty)

[blaithnne]

Since @goldiejake11’s secret Santa was a no show, I replaced them, so here’s what I made-

Merry Christmas!

[non-plutonian-druid]

im back once again to use ben as my vehicle to draw some body horror. This time we are just focusing on the tentacles so technically its just regular eldritch horror. oh well!

[ID: a four-color, messy drawing of Ben Hargreeves and the Horror from the Umbrella Academy. Ben, a teenager, is in the middle distance, hunched and screaming in agony as four tentacles burst out of his torso and writhe to fill the rest of the image. The tentacles are black, details are drawn on them in white, and the background and ben are colored dark blue with neon pink highlights. End ID.]