#one hodgepodge of an art piece

[xero013]

Nimbasa Trio🚇⚡

Annndd a Pixel Version! (Was having fun experimenting with Ibis Paint's filters)

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Lunch

Summary: Javi's rough start to the work week is turned around when he finds a surprise from his daughters in his lunch

Word Count: 3.1K (oops)

Paring: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (no use of y/n, reader's nickname is Osita)

Warnings: Literally nothing but sweet, sickening fluff, Javi being so in love with his family, Javi being the ultimate girl dad, a lot of glitter (?)

A/N: Our favorite family is back! I am a firm believer that Girl Dad!Javi keeps every single piece of artwork his daughters give to him and has a wall at his office dedicated to all of their drawings and crafts because he refuses to get rid of any of them 😭 I love them so much, they make me sick, your honor 🫡 unbeata bc that's just who I am, apologies in advance for the mistakes

Series Masterlist. Never Too Late Masterlist

4 hours into Monday and Javier Peña was already counting down the hours until Friday. It seemed like this week was going to have no problem giving Javi a swift kick in the ass back to reality after another blissful weekend with you and the girls, a grumpy frown falling upon his face, wishing he could rewind back just a few hours to when the biggest problems he was trying solved revolved around which book his daughters were picking out for bedtime, rather than strategy meetings on how to solve the better half of the southern drug trade still ranging in Mexico. 

Rubbing his hands over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Javi let out a sigh, grumbling low in his chest before running his hands through the dark curls of his hair, praying that the closed door of his office was enough to give his co-workers at the Laredo Sheriff's Department enough of a clue to let him at least try to enjoy his lunch in silence.  

Shuffling and stacking a few stray papers left out on his desk, Javi cleared a space for the brown paper sack he mindlessly pulled out of his work bag, plopping it in front of him without a second look. He shuffled through the pocket he knew he had an extra fork in somewhere, considering he was at the point of eating his lunch with nothing but his hands before venturing out to the common kitchen where the rest of his co-workers were, ready to disrupt the sacred silence and peace that was his lunch time. 

“Of course I forgot a fucking fork…” Javi grumbled to himself, abandoning his search in his bag after a few minutes, letting out another disappointed huff, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the speckled tiles of the ceiling. Javi was just about to get up, bracing himself for the perilous journey for a plastic fork he was about to embark on, when the corner of the lunch bag perched on his desk caught his eye. 

Was that… glitter?

As his gaze shifted down the rest of his bag, Javi’s impatient and bothered demeanor had quickly shifted, a soft smile growing between his cheeks, picking up the lunch sack that had very clearly been given a makeover by his daughters before disappearing into his work bag this morning. 

What was once a plain brown paper bag had somehow been turned into a hodgepodge of arts and crafts- glitter, pink and purple hearts, several stickers from separate collections of puppies, Star Wars, and unicorns, doodles and drawings from each of the girls, and a stray Batman band-aid that Harper must have added, considering the 17 she had covered herself in last night for fun. 

Quietly laughing to himself at his girl’s creation, Javi spent a few moments thoroughly examining all sides of the bag, his heart melting to read “Daddy’s Lunch- From Lucy, Elliot, Harper and Mommy” scribbled across the front. 

Carefully, Javi opened the top of the crinkly brown paper, revealing a plethora of surprising goodies inside, the first being a tiny stuffed cow and a fruit-by-the-foot that he obviously had no recollection of packing for himself last night. Setting the things down on his desk, Javi shuffled through the next added layer, this one consisting of another fruit-by-the-foot and a half eaten granola bar, which one of the girls clearly had gotten into before his lunch had departed from home.

 The last thing hiding lunch was a piece of paper that had been folded several times to fit inside the bag, Javi gently removing it with the rest of his surprise treasures. As he unfolded the now somewhat crumpled paper, the grin on his face began to grow wider and wider, seeing the colorful crayon creations doodled on the page. Before him, sat a paper with drawings of each of the girls done by themselves, perfectly embodying their tiny personalities. Lucy’s was neatly sketched and colored, and then outlined in a darker color to make the inside colors pop, Elliot’s had crazy scribbled hair and was holding a hockey stick in not one, but both hands, and Harpers was done in every color that the Crayola crayon box had to offer. 

As if their adorable self-portraits weren’t enough to have him in a puddle, in the middle of their artwork was a drawing of Javi standing between them with the words “We love you Daddy!”  etched in big, pink bubble letters above them. 

Javi had been so enamored by the art his daughters had made him, taking in every stroke and scribble on the page, he hadn’t noticed the smaller note that had fallen to his desk, your neat and careful handwriting etched across the paper. 

Jav,

3 little munchkins were very insistent on re-making Daddy’s lunch last night, and even more insistent on decorating your very boring brown bag. They told me that they were adding a few surprises to your lunch, so this is me apologizing in advance for any half eaten snacks or stuffed animals that may have ended up in there. I hope you have a great day, we all miss you lots and can’t wait to see you later. 

Love you lots, 

Osita 

Even though it was nothing but a few words scribbled down on a piece of paper and a drawing similar to one he had seen a thousand times before, it never failed to surprise Javi how something so small really did mean everything to him.  

Years ago, still working for the DEA, in the midst of chaos and corruption in Colombia, one of his former agents had always insisted on carrying his “lucky” drawing from his son in his back pocket on every mission he was sent on. Back then, the idea of carrying a colored, crumpled piece of paper in his jeans for good luck seemed like a somewhat ridiculous notion, but now, as Javi stared up at the bulletin board next to his desk, overflowing with drawings, paintings, and projects from his 3 daughters, he couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t hold any gift from his girls so near and dear to his heart that he ever dared to let it go. 

Overlapping his newest artwork over the most recent crafts given to him to hang in his office, Javi hung today’s drawing at the front and center of the board, your note nestled next to it, beaming with pride at the love and and joy at how full his heart felt from a few simple pieces of paper. 

Admiring just a little longer before reaching over to the phone at the corner of his desk, Javi began to punch the familiar pattern of your home phone number on the receiver, patiently tapping his fingers as the line rang, the other hand grabbing his actual lunch food out of the flamboyantly decorated bag. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey baby, it’s me.” 

“Hi. Is everything okay?” You questioned cautiously, somewhat surprised by his mid-day work call. 

“No, everything is-” He paused, smiling back his lunch bag, “everything is great. I just had some time during lunch and wanted to see if the 3 stooges are around so I can say thank you for my lunch.” 

“Oh God, I almost forgot that was last night’s surprise project. How bad was it? I was only there to supervise lunch bag decorating because they were adamant they were more than capable than packing extra snacks for you.” You snickered, Javi practically almost able to see the hysterical look plastering your face through the phone, laughing right along with you at the adorable gifts they had left behind for him. 

“Well, I got…” Javi stopped, reaching back over in his pile of goodies, “two fruit-by-the-foots, a stuffed purple cow, and a half eaten granola bar that has Elliot written all over it.” 

“Is that Daddy? Did he get our lunch?! Did he like it?!” A chorus of little voices squealed in the background. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.” You snickered, the muffled and muted sounds of the phone being passed off to the girls rustling through the other end of the line as Javi nestled his phone between his ear and shoulder, beginning to open up his food as he waited for a response from his daughters. 

“Hi Daddy!” The 3 shouted through the phone in unison.

“Hola, pollitas! (Hi, little chickens) Thank you so much for my lunch today!” 

“Did you like the bag, Daddy? It was my idea to make it look pretty because the brown is so boring.” Lucy boasted, in her lovingly know-it-all tone, making sure her dad knew she was without a doubt, the ringleader of the lunchtime antics. 

“I added the extra snacks!” Elliot chimed in, making sure her voice was well pronounced through the phone ensuring that Javi could her her contributions. 

“I helped-ed too!” Harper interrupted, trying to butt in over her sisters. 

“Well, Mommy helped a little bit too, but it was mostly us!” 

“Was it a surprise, Daddy?” 

“Best surprise I’ve had in a very long time. I already put your drawing up on my board so everyone can see your beautiful artwork. I think everyone at work is gonna start thinking I have professional artists that live in my house.” Javi’s cheeks were already sore from the goofy grin that was only getting wider every second he listened to his daughter’s sweet little voices on the phone, the girls erupting in a fit of giggles at his compliment. “Los amos mucho, morritas (I love you so much, kiddos).” 

“Hey Boss, you gotta second, I-” Agent Carter half knocked, opening Javi’s office door, stopping in his tracks as he met Javi’s cheerful grin turned death glare upon his arrival, slowly retracting his steps while Javi let out a scornful sigh, holding his hand out to get Carter to at least let him wrap up before dealing with whatever bullshit was coming his way. 

“Hey pollitas? Daddy has to get back to work, but I’ll see you in a little bit when I get home, okay? I love you so much. Can you pass the phone back to Mom?” 

“Okay, bye Daddy! Mommy! Mommy, Daddy wants to say goodbye!” 

“The gremlins said you wanted to say goodbye?” You laughed over the clatter of the phone being handed haphazardly back to you. 

“Yeah baby, I gotta go back to work, but I just wanted to say I love you and thanks for helping them with lunch, it was really fucking cute. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

“The cutest 3 stinkers that I’ve ever met. I love you too, Jav. Bye, babe.” 

“Love you, bye.” 

As the dial tone went silent, Javi hung up the phone, taking in a deep exhale, still holding his hand out at his co-worker to preemptively prevent whatever what stupid remark was about to come out of his mouth. 

“I wasn’t gonna say anything!” Carter winced, holding up his hands in defense at Javi’s death glare, trying his best to hide the sly smirk spreading between his lips. “…. I just never really struck you for a rainbow glitter type of guy.” 

“Fuck off, Carter. Give me 10 more minutes to try and eat my lunch in fucking peace.” Javi groaned, trying to shoo him back out the door he had barged in from.

“Okay, okay, message received! I will say…I do think the glitter really does capture your bright and sparkly personality though, the unicorn stickers are really a nice-” 

“Carter…” 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m leaving! “ 

As the door clicked shut, Javi let his annoyance slip back to content, letting the colorful sparkle of his lunch back serve as his beacon of hope for the rest of the work day, thankful for the extra piece of home he got to keep with him until he got to see his girls again. 

“Hey, I’m home!” Javi’s familiar voice rang through the hallway, barely 3 steps through the front door before the girls were rushing through the house, barrelling towards their dad to attack him with the biggest bear hugs their little bodies could muster. 

“Daddy!” They screeched, wrapping around every free inch of Javi’s body that they could reach, giggling as he crouched down to greet them, peppering them with ticklish kisses all over their faces. 

“Hola, Pollitas! Oh, I missed you guys! Did you guys have a good day today?” Javi grinned, now letting the bags he was holding in his hands drop to the floor, collecting his daughters in his grasp, wrapping them up in the tightest hug he could manage through their excited squirms and wiggles. 

“Yeah, we went to the park with Mommy and then we came home and played soccer and then ran through the sprinkler!” Lucy beamed, her sisters nodding in happy agreement, excited to tell their dad about today’s shenanigans while he was at work. 

“I scored two goals on Mommy!” Elliot added, her face lighting up with pride at her accomplishment. 

“No way! Nice stuff, Ellie Bellie!” Javi grinned, holding his hand out for a ferocious high-five from Elliot, pretending to shake his hand in pain at her strength, making the girls snicker at their dad’s overdramatics. “Hey, can you tell me where Momma is, I gotta go say hi to her too and then you can tell me all about the rest of your day, okay?” 

“She’s in the kitchen making dinner!” Lucy replied, giggling as Javi pressed a long kiss into the top of her head, nestled between her messy hair. 

“Mommy’s makin’ ‘pisgetti!” Harper cooed, Lucy and Elliot trying their best to keep from laughing at their youngest sister’s inability to pronounce spaghetti. 

“Thanks, lindas (cuties). Why don’t you guys go clean up your stuff and then we can help Mom with the rest of dinner?” 

“Okay!” The three agreed, dashing back through the house and disappearing down the hallways, Javi laughing to himself as he kicked off his shoes and picked up his bags, heading into the kitchen to find you at the stove, happily humming and swaying your hips to the radio playing in the background as you cooked, so wrapped up in what you were doing that you hadn’t realized your husband’s presence. 

Quietly setting down his bags on the counter, Javi rested his hip against the stone ledge, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you work, wondering to himself if he would ever get over how even the simplest things like watching you make dinner made him fall more and more in love with you, the familiar warmth of home and you creeping through his cheeks in a soft smile. 

“Hi, Momma.” He smirked, making you squeal in surprise as he snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder, rocking you back and forth in his grasp. “I missed you guys today.” 

“Hi, handsome. We missed you, too. The girls haven’t stopped asking when you were going to be home since you called at lunch time. They were so excited you liked your lunch. Sorry if it was a little obnoxious. I tried to tell ‘em to go easy on the glitter, so hopefully none ended up in your food.” You chuckled, shaking your head at the image of the finished lunch bag that had made its way to work with Javi this morning. You turned around to face Javi, his hands still resting on your hips as you draped your arms over his shoulders, pressing up on your tiptoes to let your lips meet his, his mouth lingering just a little longer than usual as you felt his smile growing amidst his kiss. “What was that for?” You blushed, butterflies swirling in your stomach as his lips gently pulled away from yours, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your skin in the space where your t-shirt and shorts parted. 

“I love you so much. You and the girls, I just- I’m just so thankful for all of you.” Javi grinned, the soft brown of his eyes sparkling in the kitchen light, looking you up and down as if in awe of the fact that you were the woman he got to hold in his grasp at the end of each day for the rest of his life. 

“I love you too, you goof.” 

Before your lips could meet again, the happy giggles of your girls flooded through the kitchen, their little pitters and patters of their feet tumbling the hallway to greet the both of you again. Peeking over Javi’s shoulder, you cocked your head in confusion at the plastic bag your girls were now rummaging through on the counter, wondering what Javi had been shopping for on his way home. 

“What’s in the bag, Jav?” 

“Well…” He paused, making his way over to the kitchen counter with the girls, picking up the bag and tipping it over, shaking its contents out in front of them, “I figured, since the munchkins did such a good job with today’s lunch bag-” 

“STICKERS!” 

“GLITTER PENS?!”

“PUFFY PAINT!” 

The girls shrieked, picking up the various brightly colored craft items Javi had brought home with him, along with a pack of brown paper bags, making the reason for his pit stop abundantly clear, and making you smile even wider than you already were. 

“...I figured, I still have 4 days of lunches left, and you guys did such a good job with my lunch today, that you could decorate the rest of my lunch bags for the week.” 

“Really?!” The girls squealed, their faces lighting up in excitement. 

“Really, really.” Javi beamed, reaching his arms around the girls to pick them up, the 3 laughing and squirming in pure joy, your heart bursting at the seams watching just how much Javi loved his little girls and the silliest, smallest things he would do just to make them smile. 

“Mommy, can we start right now!? Please, please, pleaseeeeee?” Lucy begged, Elliot and Harper joining in with their silent plea of sweet puppy eyes. 

“Let’s help Mommy with dinner and then we can-” 

“It’s okay, I think spaghetti can wait a little longer.” 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem

[blueikeproductions]

We now have a mostly proper look at the current iterations of the Thirteen Primes via a presentation at Cybertron Con.

Perhaps to no one’s surprise, none of them use the TFONE designs, but the designs do seem to be hodgepodges of their first designs mixed with other more well known versions.

Micronus is very clearly based on his RiD15 design for example, while Alchemist is a hybrid of his Cyberverse and Marvel G1 designs. Liege Maximo meanwhile is just straight up his G2 design but tweaked to make it look like he can Transform, into what I don’t know yet.

Prima is perhaps the more curious one. Instead of using the generic Marvel G1 design, they combine the random gladiator robot in G1 with Aligned Prima and claim he turns into a space truck.

(Here’s a thought though, why did Primus see fit to make these versions have cabs passengers can sit in? Did Mini-Cons get carried around in there? Did Primus predict humans and other similar lifeforms bonding with Transformers?)

Solus meanwhile seems to be her Prime Wars design.

The superior design I might add.

I’m a bit mixed on her also being a space truck also, as I would’ve expected her to be a construction vehicle tbh. At the very least I would’ve expected her to be a tow truck if she HAD to be a truck.

Onyx is also very interesting, as they seem to better establish he has a regular Robot Mode, with another piece of art showing he also has the centaur mode.

Though atm it’s not clear if this centaur mode IS his Beast Mode, or if it’s an in-between mode like Airachnid’s spider-taur mode and he just becomes an animalistic truck also.

Another thing I find funny is Onyx’s tiki mask relic is instead depicted as more of a totem pole staff. It reminds me of Garudamon X’s weapon, so maybe Onyx clubs people with his relic now.

I think I’m most disappointed by Quintus still being his Aligned design because I still have no idea what he’s supposed to turn into, and going by Solus, Micronus and Maccadam, I would’ve expected him to be his EarthSpark design with traits of his ONE and Aligned designs so get can more easily contort him into … another space truck presumably. Maybe he’s a fire truck? That involves saving lives, so that’s kinda fitting for his life theming.

I just think his Aligned design is hideous, being mostly ribbons and tentacles, making his Robot Mode extremely hard to read, vs TFONE simplifying it into more of a Hindu deity while ES opts for a monk, though what either of them officially Transform into is anyone’s guess.

Apparently a lot of fans are infuriated Nexus Prime is just his Aligned design vs what they say they want: his original Energon style combiner form he debuted in.

Now you would think it would be the one on the right, going by Liege Maximo and The Fallen being based on their original comic forms specifically but I guess not. I heard a rumor the Nexus Prime toy is more like Vehicle Voltron, in that he splits apart into vehicles only. Funny enough this does still homage the Energon roots, as the anime suggests Superion, Bruticus and Constructicon’s component parts are drone vehicles anyway. The Fun Pub comics would establish his components are individuals called Skyfall, Landquake, Breakaway, Topspin and Heatwave (no not THAT Heatwave). The initial concept saw Nexus’ components scattered to the multiverse where some would become Autobots and others Decepticons, with destiny calling them back together to reform into Nexus Prime. The same story also says Nexus was “cut apart” originally by the Star Saber, implying he wasn’t a Combiner originally. Nexus’ purpose was ultimately to do away with Hasbro’s initial idea of multiversal singularities (meaning all 13 existed at once in every universe and were the same individual), and once that was accomplished, all the Primes could be distinct again in each universe. This means in particular for Nexus that his component parts aren’t named individuals atm, so how Nexus’ new toy is handled will be interesting. Either we get the original named components, brand new components, or he’s a box set and all his limbs are drones with a central robot loosely based on his ONE design.

Amalgamous is also funny to me, as he still has the ED-209 vibe of his ONE counterpart, but he now has a proper head that resembles Whirl. In fact he kinda looks like a fat IDW Whirl, which is funny considering Cyberverse Mac’s Strong-Fat Rung design.

Star Convoy seemingly being the Thirteenth suggests a splitting of the difference. TFONE uses Zeta, which implies other cartoons and comics can probably just use whoever they want in that role, but Hasbro still seems to want Optimus as the Arisen, and Star Convoy fits the concept better, as he’s a reborn Optimus, revived by the power of the Zodiac (the ancient primordial force used by Dai Atlas in Zone). It also helps it’s a more distinct design, so it’s not just G1/Prime Optimus awkwardly tacked on to these more regal robots. As the toy is called Star Optimus Prime I wonder if other cartoons could dance around it, with the robot being called Star Prime, Galaxy Prime (Galaxy Convoy?) or something Star related to make him a unique character rather than just Optimus.

So what happens now?

I’m very worried about this toy line. I think Hasbro is trying to coast on adult fans like Digimon is, but as we’ve seen we NEED kids to get into this to keep it going. Adult fans alone aren’t enough by the abysmal failure of Cyberverse, EarthSpark and ONE, and I fear Age of the Primes will suffer by adult fans not being that interested in the Primes concept, and casuals just not caring or even knowing who the Primes are. The Fallen and Alpha Trion are who most people are vaguely aware of, alongside Vector Prime, everyone else is just kinda there with no mainstream fiction really helping get people invested in these robots. Nostalgia for Bay Fallen and GF Vector Prime is what keeps them relevant, with the anime fleshing out Vector pretty well, while as other attempts with Maccadam and Quintus have fallen very flat.

There’s likely no real story for Age, because it seems Hasbro has given up on trying to make the collector line have a narrative. Legacy was supposed to have a story, but because Netflix turned down a cartoon after the WFC show failed, Hasbro just seemed to forgo a story altogether. What possible story Age would have I have no idea, there’s a descendent thing brought up, but what story could be made here is too vague to fathom. I would assume that a typical story would see 13 direct descendants of the Primes, Optimus among them, come together to inherit their ancestors powers to defeat a great evil (be it Unicron or something else like the Quintessons). That would make sense, and you could have a better Autobots and Decepticons coming together story in this way, but I don’t see Hasbro doing this. Not even as a cheap Flash web cartoon. I don’t see Skybound invested in doing a comic about this either, so what story this is supposed to have is probably fan fiction for now.

Interestingly, in China, where the presentation was held, fans there cheered excitedly at The Fallen and Star Convoy in particular which makes me feel they have to be the main villain and hero. In particular they should have a final showdown thar mirrors Brave ExKaiser and Galaxy Force…!

A more anime style final battle between Optimus and The Fallen would be pretty awesome, but whether Optimus still rips off The Fallen’s face I dunno.

[jaytalking]

I cannot get over your artsyle aghahdgfshsgs it's so delicious and cromchy AND you have great music taste??? Absolutely spectacular and fabulous art 👍

Aw thanks, but I assure you my music taste is not so much "great" as it is a hodgepodge of anything with a good beat, 40% stuff from my emo phase.

One thing I REALLY like is when songs use samples as whole pieces of a song, it's why I love MF DOOM's stuff so much. That and whatever the hell Tim Henson is doing with his guitar, if I attempted to describe it I'd probably slip and fall into suggestive language....

[38sr]

Hi Lee Cree!! I love your animations and I'm a big fan of styled Art and animations. I wanted to ask you how did you develop your art style, what brushes do you use, and did you go to an animation school!

Hello Night! Thank you so much for your support! As for your questions, Imma go backwards haha.

No, I didn't go to an animation school but a private fine arts college in Massachusetts. They did have an animation program but it was so new (4 years old) that it didn't have any real resources for me. So I ended up teaching myself how to animate the way I like.

Second, brushes. I've already answered the brush question in a previous ask . Though I will be honest in that I haven't really been using these brushes lately since I am a fickle being haha. But in all seriousness, I'm very much a default brush tool gal 'cause I don't really believe in a "brush tool that will make me draw better." By no means is this targeted towards you, Night, but I want people who are reading this to understand knowing an artist's specific brush tool and settings won't suddenly make your art change. You still have to learn how to use that tool in a way that works for yourself. For myself, I don't need fancy settings and effects. I'm the type of artist that will take a Crayola marker over a Copic marker because I just need something that works and will bend it to my liking. But as of right now, I've been using the default G-pen tool in Clip Studio with default settings (7-10px) 'cause I just like how it looks. I'm sure it'll change again but my point is that please don't get too fixated on what brushes I use because it's not as fancy as you think it is. ^^; Last one, style. So lemme let you in on a secret, Night: I don't really have a style haha. This is such a hard topic for me to explain because I....don't really care about "style" but rather I look for how artists execute certain things in art. I'm just good at breaking down someone's style and figuring out how they execute foundational drawing cornerstones. For example, Tite Kubo (Bleach) draws the lower of the face longer (which gives a more angular, mature look) as opposed to Furudate (Haikyuu) who draws the lower portion of face shorter than real life (which make the style read more youthful). This is something I learned during my time in art school since I mostly took fine arts classes. We often spent a lot of time dissecting other artists work and trying to replicate it. So, I approach my work in the sense where one day I'll go, "I'm gonna draw the eyes like Christie Tseng" but then the next day I'll go, "What if I drew the eyes like Mitsuru Adachi?" My "style" thrives off of learning the visual cues of artists and seeing if I can replicate it. And once I do, I adjust it to fit my sensibilities so I can add it to my arsenal of "styles" haha. And, if you've noticed that's how I'm able to switch up my drawing between shows like My Adventures with Superman and One Piece. And at the end of the day, what y'all are seeing is an accumulation of years of analyzing, deconstructing and reconstructing techniques from artists I really admire and trying to mix them together into something that feels uniquely me. And it's always changing. I think a lot of emerging artists can fall into the worry of not having a "distinct visual style" and in my art journey that visual style is just a result of practice, experience and experimentation. Of course, y'all can probably tell I'm super influenced by anime but outside of anime I'm also inspired by western artists (like Manet and Degas). I guess what I'm trying to say is that when it came to developing my "style" I gave up of being a "stand out" which was very freeing for me back in college. It allowed me to study artists outside of my field and experiment with their techniques to create my own unique hodgepodge you see today.

[gammagoop]

good morning tumblr (its not morning as i post this) i have been falling back into the minecraft video rabbit hole so this is just going to be a hodgepodge post of art and other stuff because i need someone to talk to

first. here are some life series & hermitcraft sketches

if you recognize the concept from the 3rd pic good for you .!!

next.

theres a teeny part in double life where etho tells joel that he makes a noise that sounds like a tiger chuffing so tiger joel has been on my mind for a while

ok now empires doodles

and i was also going to post something thats not art but i forgot you can only put 10 pics in a tumblr post so i’ll just make a separate one :P

i’m in the process of making a . bigger empires piece but no promises on that lol ok bye

[hmslusitania]

I’ve been thinking a lot about Art lately. What it means, and what it means for people to create it, and what it means to be derivative, and what machines might do with it and the fact machine generated art (also called AI art in some circles) makes a hodgepodge, and the statement “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” Because what is machine generated art but imitation? Surely this is flattery?

Some months ago I had the opportunity to go to the Portland Symphony. It was for nerd reasons, the performance list was the battle between Star Wars vs Star Trek, but the conductor hadn’t arranged solely for pieces from Star Trek, or solely for John Williams. He included the theme from ET, and Thus Spake Zarathustra and Blue Danube from 2001, and then the music of a science fiction film from the 1930s no one in the audience had ever heard of before. And somewhere in the middle, he included one additional piece. It was his own, the first of his original compositions he’d ever had performed for an audience.

And it was lovely! It was an absolutely delightful piece of music, and he’d structured the show well enough that we could hear the pieces he’d incorporated that were from the Star Trek theme, that were in conversation with Michael Giacchino’s new Star Trek theme, that were borrowed from Strauss, that had John Williams oozing from the semiquavers and the rests.

It was imitation, and it was derivative, and it was beautiful and full of heart. It was the answer to why imitation is the sincerest form of flattery �� it’s because that level of imitation isn’t saying “I couldn’t come up with anything on my own so I borrowed yours” it’s saying “the art you created so moved me that I could not imagine trying to express this piece of my soul without incorporating this thing you created into it.”

When people select the art that we imitate and that we derivate from, it’s an expression of love. It is an acknowledgement that the other has created something beautiful that spoke to us that we now can’t live without.

When computers do it, it’s just soulless. It’s matching defined bits and slapping them together. It isn’t an act of art or love (art and love are, of course, the same thing in their own way) it’s simply… mimicry. Heartless mimicry. It cannot replace actual art and everyone who tries to pretend it can is my enemy.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 3: Boom …Katsu makes a grave miscalculation - and ends up needing rescued by - or is it from? - a certain snarky kitsune.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

When I first met Francisco five years ago, he’d been a merchant trader whom Aki had encountered on his travels somewhere. Aki invited him back to The Mountain as a kind of cultural exchange – Francisco was to teach me Portuguese and I tried to teach him Japanese (one of us was a lot more successful in this endeavor… whether it was because I was a motivated student but a terrible teacher, or because Francisco just doesn’t have an ear for language, I can not say). Upon his arrival at Aki’s manor, Francisco had taken one look at Aki’s chatelaine Fume and inexplicably fallen in love. One month stretched into another, and eventually Francisco decided to stay in Japan, setting in Sakai, and making frequent visits to his lady love.

Unfortunately, his Japanese is still… well… horrible, and after listening to him struggle through the simplest greeting, I switched to Portuguese. Otherwise, we would have been standing in the middle of his front room all day.

“It is a relief that my message reached you first, instead of one of Aki’s other messengers.” Francisco took me back to his private quarters – a room with a hodgepodge of Japanese and Western furniture … none of which matched. It was jarring to see a silk tapestry carelessly tossed over a desk, as if it were a tablecloth and not art. “Because I am certain that he would want you to know what happened. He’s always spoken very highly of you. I have no idea why Fume believes otherwise.”

Since it wasn’t worth getting sidetracked to another ‘why Fume hates Katsu’ chat, I instead seated myself in one of the extremely uncomfortable chairs at the desk, and suppressed a protest when Francisco set a pot of tea down on the tapestry. “He was supposed to meet me in Niigata over two weeks ago. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Longer than that.” Francisco dropped some konpieto right into his tea and stirred it with a chopstick. “It was in Junho… er, what you call the sixth month. I did not know he was missing; only that he planned to meet me last week, and he never appeared. Normally, Aki always meets me when he says he will.” It didn’t escape me either that Francisco was using Aki’s least formal name. I wondered if their friendship was closer than appeared. Or. It could be that Francisco didn’t have any patience with formality.

“Was there anything he said that gave you an idea where he was going? Did he ever share the results of his investigations with you?” It was a silly question, really. Though Francisco was valuable as a language consultant, it wasn’t like he’d ever been part of our investigations.

Francisco loudly cracked down on a piece of candy – hopefully he wouldn’t break a tooth on those because… well, lets not go into medieval dentistry. “No. No. Never.” He shook his head emphatically. “We only talk about trade goods. Fabrics. Spices. Sometimes I tell him of my religion. I ask him what things Fume likes. But we never ever talk about what he does. Never.”

Like the castle seamstress back in Azuchi, Francisco had unleashed a flood of too much information – and three “nevers.” Was it a signal that he was lying? I tossed a quick, blunt question out there to gage his response. “What about weapons smuggling or imports? Did he ever ask about those?”

“Weapons? Why would…? No. He wouldn’t have. He knows I only import rugs and fabric.” He offered to refill the tea, but I still had most of my barely drinkable first serving.

Hm. Francisco had seemed genuinely surprised when I asked about the weapons. Perhaps there was something he was avoiding, but it didn’t have anything to do with guns. Unless Francisco was a far better liar than I credited him as being (which… not impossible). For a brief moment, I considered pulling Mitsuhide’s favorite trick of asking ‘what aren’t you telling me?’ but the opportunity passed and Francisco asked me where I was planning to stay. “There is room for you here, and when you go back to the Mountain, I will accompany you.”

I wasn’t certain I wanted to return to the Mountain without Aki, but that was a problem for another day. So, I gratefully accepted and offered to translate for him while I was in Sakai. “Although before that, there is a building I want to get a look at.”

It had been almost five years, but some places live in your memory. The building where I had nearly died was one of them. It was easy enough to find it again. It had loomed like a boogeyman in my dreams, but now, in daylight, it was a simple warehouse close to the docks. Nothing to worry about on the outside.

On the inside…

I walked through the unlocked door…

…into an empty building.

Well, that’s anticlimactic.

Ok, it wasn’t completely empty. There were a couple of piles of rope and rough cloth… basically evidence that the warehouse was still being used, but at the moment, whatever was normally stored here had been loaded onto a ship or distributed to buyers already. I sniffed the air and took in the faint scents of ginger and turmeric. Probably the most recent items passing through here had been spices from Goa.

Near a pile of rope was a torn-up scrap of paper – a list, in Portuguese. I lit a candle and spent a moment puzzling out the handwriting and translating the text. Various shades of cotton fabrics, which would confirm Goa.

Maybe there was an office of some kind in here? A room with records or other correspondence might lead me to the name of the owner of the warehouse. I didn’t immediately see a door or a hallway, although further back from the entry, it was too dark to see anything anyway.

I was trying to decide whether to risk lighting one of the lanterns, when-

“Who are you and what are you doing in here?!” The voice came from the entry - I had left the doorway open just a crack. I heard it slide open wider and a shaft of the late afternoon sun, cast a long silohouette across the floor.

One rule of sneaking is that, when caught, pretending you have a perfectly rational explanation sometimes works. I prefer to talk instead of fight my way out of trouble, so I pasted on my best ‘I’m supposed to be here’ smile, and turned around to face my interrogator.

A little boy?

He was maybe ten or eleven years old and dressed like an ordinary citizen – not expensively enough to be from a merchant or warrior family, and not roughly enough to be a beggar. That didn’t give me much to go on when formulating a response to his question and I ended up with what was more or less the truth. “I’m trying to find out who owns this building.” I considered adding that I worked for someone who wanted to rent some space, but at the last moment, I changed that to, “I’m new to the city and am looking for work.”

The boy relaxed. “I suppose if you were a thief, you’d more likely go to a place where there is something worth stealing.” He gave me a brief friendly bow. “I’m Hiko.”

I bowed in return. “Katsu. From Niigata.” I’d certainly spent enough time there recently to display knowledge of the place if quizzed. I could even relate the number of cracks in the floor of a certain inn.

“That’s very far from here.” Hiko came closer, looking at me with interest.

You have no idea kid.

I shrugged, then pulled out three of my remaining juggling bags and tossed them into the air. Showing off for him a little, but also trying to prove I was no threat. “I wanted to see the world… or at least the ocean.”

“My master is the merchant Shojumaru. If you want to see the whole world, he could probably find a job for you aboard a ship.” He watched the juggling bags spin for a moment. “How long did it take you to learn that?”

Nine days.

“Not too long.” I slowed down to show him how I alternated the toss and catch of the bags. “A job aboard a ship might be fun.” Or at least learning more about shipboard opportunities would be a good multi-tasking option for me, given that there was still a possibility that my brother was aboard one somewhere. But I needed to continue looking for Aki here in Sakai first before sailing off to parts unknown. So, I told a slight fib. “Except I can’t swim – that’s a problem.”

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, I got a weird flash of a little boy – this little boy? – flailing about in a flooded river. The sensation of savage rapids and cold water slapping at my face.  

Grab the branch… it floats!

The memory – or was it a dream? It had to have been a dream - was so vivid that I nearly dropped the beanbags. Luckily the kid didn’t notice. “Does your master… this Shojumaru, own the building?”

“I don’t know.” Hiko took the beanbags and attempted to juggle them, with no success. “Many merchants use it – it’s only empty today because there haven’t been any ships docking this week.”

Hm. No clear answer, possibly dead end. Even if I learned who owned this building, there was no guarantee it had been the owner’s weapons’ shipment five years ago. All I knew was that those crates of guns had belonged to someone named Motonari and he had purchased them from a Nanban merchant. A lot can change in five years.

There had to be a better way. I needed an “in” with the Kaigoshu, the merchants who governed Sakai, to learn who was who, and who had been who five years ago. But that was akin to trying to get a meeting with a Daimyo, and a courier like Katsu just didn’t have the connections to do that. I wasn’t even sure that Francisco did, given his continuing difficulties learning the language. Perhaps he would know someone who knew someone, though.

Meanwhile, the sun was getting lower in the sky. Hiko reluctantly gave me back my bean bags. “I need to return to Shojumaru’s offices. He sometimes worries about me if I am too late.”

Really? My estimation of this Shojumaru raised a little. It was nice that he cared for his servants. Hiko’s loyalty to him was clear in the boy’s voice. Maybe Shojumaru would be that someone who knew someone?

Part of finding stuff out was knowing when to press for information and knowing when to back off. I sensed it was time to back off… just because Hiko was a little boy didn’t mean that he wouldn’t get suspicious if I kept asking questions. “Better hurry then.” Together we walked out of the building, and I slid the doors shut behind me. “You should not worry him by being late.”

He nodded solemnly, in sort of a mini-adult way. I guess he was kind of an old soul. As he started to walk away, I called after him again. “Hiko – you can keep these.” I tossed him the bean bags. I could easily make more.

“Thank you, Katsu.” He smiled as he hurried on his way.

Shojumaru.

Another name on my list to investigate. I turned and headed back to Francisco’s. This part of town, so close to the harbor, seemed a bit less safe in twilight. I didn’t exactly hug the shadows, for that would have called more attention to myself, but I was alert to any sign of trouble. The last thing I wanted to do was become ‘disappeared’ myself. There was already far too much of that going around.

I was carefully making my way across the road when my attention was caught by the chatter of Portuguese. Two Nanban merchants were sitting at a table in the front of a restaurant. They were accompanied by a pair of beautiful Japanese women, in kimonos so pretty that I momentarily regretted that the only women’s clothing I owned was one ugly brown maid’s kimono.

Courtesans, apparently, for they seemed to be doting on the merchants far out of proportion to the men’s looks. Or, well, I suppose that was unfair. The men might have nice personalities?

I stepped closer, close enough to hear their conversations, close enough to learn that the Portuguese were saying extremely rude things about their female companions.

So much for having nice personalities.

It was too bad that the women couldn’t understand them, or I’d imagine a couple plates of food would get dumped in laps. Or… maybe the women understood perfectly well what the men were saying and just pretended—

!

A germ of an idea took root… a courtesan could get access to the Japanese and Portuguese merchants.

But… could I pull something like that off? I didn’t want to become a courtesan in truth … just to-

“Boy! What you staring at?” One of the merchants yelled at me in heavily accented and broken Japanese.

“Sorry.” I bowed. “I was only trying to decide if I wanted to eat here. Is the food good?”

They looked at each other in confusion. Taking advantage of their distraction, I shrugged and moved on.

“I am sorry, Katsu. Your Portuguese is usually better… but I thought you just offered to be my concubine.” Francisco was caught between confusion and horror.

“No, I don’t want to be your concubine. I’m going to auction myself off, and you shall buy me.” I had refined my plan in between the time I left the restaurant and now. “That will give me the opportunity to see what goes on behind the scenes of the auction.”

Francisco held up one finger. He walked over to his desk and poured himself a glass of some kind of wine, then gulped it down. “Now, please explain this idea in terms that don’t make me mistreat another glass of Madeira.”

“As Aki’s representative, I’m investigating the smuggling of weapons into Sakai.” My third lie of the afternoon, but Francisco wouldn’t know that Aki would never have asked me to do this. Nor did I mention that I was worried about the possibility that Aki had been taken prisoner and auctioned off, or shipped to China, or beyond.  “I need to be able to move amongst the merchants and see what I can learn. If I am auctioned off as a slave, I will be able to listen in on their conversations – these people don’t know that I speak Portuguese. Then – you’ll buy me. It’s perfectly safe.” I realized as I said this out loud, that my logic wasn’t completely clear, but I figured Francisco would chalk that up to the language barrier.

“Akihira will murder me if I let you do such an insane thing.” Clearly, I had more convincing to do for he instead downed another glass of that wine.

“I can handle myself. I would prefer, of course, to do this with your help, but…” I let the statement trail off into the air to give him a moment to imagine where I was going. Of course, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to try this without a partner, and if Francisco said no, I’d get one of Aki’s other couriers (not Takauji though)  in his stead. But that would take more time than I wanted to spend. Easier to convince Francisco that I would act alone if he didn’t step in. “If it is the money you are worried about, I will find a way to pay you back.”

He heaved a long, deep, shuddering sigh, as if I had called the weight of the whole world down on his shoulder… or more realistically, the kind of sigh he would make if I had called the whole weight of Aki’s anger on his shoulders. “If we must do this, then let us do it correctly.” He unlocked a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bag that jangled. “These are yours.”

He dumped the contents of the bag out onto his desk and a shower of Takeda minted gold, Portguese real, and copper mon bounced onto the polished wood.

Whoa… that was a lot of money.

Almost as interesting was a sealed letter addressed to me.

Ok, who am I kidding. The letter was more interesting than the cash (and the cash… was pretty damn interesting).

Meanwhile, Francisco quickly swept the letter, and most of the money back into the bag, leaving a handful of the copper mon. “This ought to be enough for me to purchase you back from an auction.”

“So little?” Almost insulting.

He gestured to the male garb I wore almost exclusively these days. “We could spend a week outfitting you and making you look far more expensive, but do you want to waste your own money, not to mention your time, like that?”

Ok. Point to Sancho Panza here. “That letter… I noticed it was addressed to me.”

“Akihira left both the letter and the money for you in case anything happened to him. However, I am not yet ready to believe the worst has occurred.” He tossed the bag back into the drawer.

“Wait!” I reached for the message, wanting some kind of connection to Aki, even if it was an ‘in the unlikely event of my death’ letter. “What if there is some clue as to where he is now?”

“Katsu, Akihira wrote this letter two years ago. I do not think there is a relation.” He slammed the drawer shut and locked it. “I have some idea of the contents of the letter. Things that he would prefer to tell you in person some day. Things that do not sound as nice on paper as they do in conversation.”

All that this was doing was making me really want to read that letter, but I allowed Francisco to have his way for the time being. After all, I saw where he stored the key. I could sneak back in here later and grab the letter once I was established as his concubine.

Three days later, I, or more specifically my “Kaya” identity stood on one of several small platforms arranged along the wall – or whatever the dividers between rooms were called on a ship. I suppose it was still a wall. Clad in my most hated, ugly brown housemaid kimono, I stood with my hands tied in front of me, while strangers, most, but not all, foreigners, walked past, some pausing to look me over.

To leer at me.

This… might not have been the best idea I’d ever had.

I’d been on this ship half a day, and I immediately discovered – nothing. Or, more specifically, I discovered that there was nothing to be learned here. Anyone who might have been captured during the time Aki had disappeared was long gone. And the people running the show? Didn’t pay attention to our faces. We were simply commodities.

Though I had thought I was prepared for how I would feel when men eyed me as if they were determining how well I would perform in bed, the reality of the situation was dehumanizing. One of them said to his companion, “rather a diamond in the rough, eh? Give this one a few baths and it might end up quite the prize.”

“No. Too muscular,” came the dismissive reply.

Aware that the conversation had been in Portuguese, I kept my face blank and my eyes on the floor. Francisco had arranged for ‘Kaya’ – a housemaid who had gotten separated and lost during an attack on a Daimyo’s castle – to be sold. This wasn’t even an uncommon situation. In such cases the Daimyo’s family would either have been taken as hostages or forced to kill themselves, but servants who were not able to flee or hide often ended up captured and sold into slavery.

In a few moments Francisco would purchase Kaya, thus preventing me from the fate of becoming some merchant’s concubine or, even worse, bound for Europe to be the “exotic” plaything in a brothel.

I risked a quick glace around the room, wondering where Francisco was hiding. He hadn’t wanted to spend much time on board, as he was prone to seasickness. Even so, by this point, he ought to have arrived and walked past me to look at the merchandise.

But I didn’t see him anywhere.

Cutting close, Francisco. Too close.

Another foreigner paused in front of me. A Jesuit priest, complete with hypocritical cross and cassock. With pinching fingers, he grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his face. The man wasn’t bad looking, I’d give him that. But the hard look in his eyes and the sneer on his lips – no. Whoever this man bought would be the unluckiest person in the world. “Are you a fighter?”

I blinked. The priest knew Japanese, and he spoke it very well. “Fighter? No. I’m a housemaid. If you need your floors scrubbed.”

He smacked me across the face, shocking me into silence. One of the auctioneers yelled at him not to damage the stock but he only shrugged. “I didn’t hit her hard enough to leave a mark. Besides. I will give you this right now,” he held up a velvet purse and shook a pile of Portuguese real out. “If I can take her without the trouble of an auction.”

Francisco did have more than that amount of cash on hand. If he were here… which he is not. Wherever he was, he needed to hurry, because clearly the auctioneer was weighing the thought of low effort high reward.

Father Slappy Hands added three more coins to the pile, one at a time. I felt each clink in the pit of my stomach. “This one has spirit.” The subtext being that he would enjoy breaking it.

Again, the auctioneer hesitated, and the man continued, “You won’t get any more for her in the auction.” He tossed another five coins into the pile. “This is my final offer.”

I could see the agreement in the auctioneer’s face even before he opened his mouth. But before he could say a word, three strings of copper mon, and a substantial handful of Takeda minted gold coins were plopped into the startled hands of the auctioneer.

“I believe this amount will match and exceed the offered price,” came a new voice. A different voice.

The good news. Someone overbid Father Slappy Hands.

The bad news. That person wasn’t Francisco.

The worst news. I knew whose voice that was.

Cinnamon and sandalwood…

I turned my head to look… or rather to confirm… but I knew, from the way that voice again activated that prickly feeling inside me, I knew, even before I had visual, that I was going to be looking right at Mitsuhide.

His silver hair was hidden under a long dark wig… but the golden eyes and knowing smirk were all too familiar.

Well. Hell.

The priest eyed Mitsuhide. Mitsuhide eyed him back with that one eyebrow raised in a challenge and his hand resting on his sword.

The thing about bullies is that when faced with someone stronger, they’ll slink away. Father Slappy Hands held ground for just a moment, then… slunk away. Still, just to make sure he was leaving for good, I kept my eyes on him until he exited the room. I wouldn’t put it past him to attack me later.

Not that he was currently my biggest concern.

No, my biggest concern was the snarky warlord in the wig who was currently tucking my ‘purchase papers’ into his kimono.

He then turned to me, and without a word, Mitsuhide unceremoniously slung me over his shoulder and strolled through the room.

And for a third time, I’m upside down.

@mllorei @akitsuneswife @selenacosmic @bestbryn @lyds323 @tele86

[animehouse-moe]

Chainsaw Man 122: The Prophecies

⚠️Warning: Spoilers Ahead⚠️

So, a bit of a wait for this chapter, and it gives us what seems like very little, but actually ends up being pretty interesting.

For starters, the title of the chapter: "The Prophecies". It's plural, they're alluding to more than one. However, this interpretation is a bit up in the air because plurality in Japanese is a bit hit and miss (at least from my understanding), and the chapter title in Japanese translates directly to "Great Prophecy". So yeah, a potential misnomer, but also potentially an interesting answer.

Moving on, a neat little detail is that the café and everything from the start of this chapter is the exact one that Yoshida took Denji to earlier in Part 2. I'm still very curious if any of the pieces of art in there have any significance to the story, but it's hard to say for sure.

So how about something substantial? That Nostradamus prophecy? It's real.

The full prophecy is as follows, "In the year 1999 and seven months, the great King of Terror will descend. He will bring to life the king of the Mongls/Angols/etc. (the actual subject of this aspect is questioned in various versions)...". There's several interpretations that follow after that line that talk about war or fortune or flames, but in my research it's not perfectly clear which is the most correct, and which Fujimoto might be taking from.

Whichever the correct answer is, it's obvious that the "Great King of Terror" is the devil that appeared, and it's actually even possible that the Faux Chainsaw Man is the being that is talked about being brought to life. In some interpretations of the prophecy, there is mention of an antichrist instead of a king from a country. So it's entirely possible that this devil that exists in front of us now had a role in the creation of the Faux Chainsaw Man that we've not seen for ages now.

But what primordial devil is that? What is a Primordial Devil in the first place? Do they have different conditions for existence? It's like they were summoned by the deaths, but Nayuta had sensed the devil before it appeared, and similarly so did Yoru. What I find most interesting however is the potential of the devil. Primordial Devils have never been killed before, and we know that Devils exist in a cycle of reincarnation between Hell and Earth. What's interesting though is how Horsemen and Primordial Devils exist though. The Horsemen are only ever shown as being of human form or being mixed with a human, while Primordial Devils are only ever shown as their devil form. Something close to human, but incredibly far from it still. They clearly have different conditions for making it from Hell to Earth, but what might those be?

I don't really have answers, as I just thought they were really interesting questions to pose, but the one thing I find most interesting with the Primordial Devils is the fact that they share similar design language. Both the Darkness Devil and whatever this devil may be, are humanoid bodies without human heads, a hodgepodge of what amounts to a disturbing homunculus. I would assume this trait to be similar to the circle irises of the Horseman Devils.

Anyways, next topic! The current devil is gendered as being female, if that wasn't obvious. It's interesting in general though for the Devil to have a gender in the first place, especially when compared to the Darkness Devil that gave off no such inclination. More interesting than that though, is the line that precedes it. Fami says Devils, plural. There are several Primordial Devils that will be arriving to cause ultimate terror.

Also, you gotta love Fujimoto's casual placement of all things Chainsaw Man. Super easy to miss the Chainsaw Man throw pillows here, but a nice touch nonetheless.

Anyways, finishing it off, we've got the reveal of a (slightly NSFW) Primordial Devil.

Perhaps the most interesting thing here is that little tendril protruding from the stomach of the devil, immediately reminding me of the Justice Devil. Is it possible? I'd say not really, no. Having the ability to basically force people to kill themselves is highly unlikely as a power of the Justice Devil, when the abilities that we know of it through contracts has no association with that. But still, it remains oddly familiar, and something that even more oddly does not exist in the first panel (the one on the right). It only appears in the second panel on the left that the chapter ends on. Does this devil just have association with the Justice Devil? That seems more likely. Whatever it is, it's a fearsome devil if Yoru is immediately afraid of it. Absolutely looking forward to the next chapter.

[sepublic]

Editaurus

         Meet Editaurus! She wields the Green Magestone, which imbues bolts of emerald lightning that can bring things to life, creating all manner of constructs. In particular, Editaurus uses this Magestone, which she has artfully incorporated into her body like many of her materials and ingredients, to create her chimeras.

         Editaurus once started off dirt-poor, with a struggling father. They worked together in a landfill, working with the refuse of society. But one man’s trash is another man’s treasure; There was quite a lot of dead meat and other biomass. Some bones and flesh, muscles and organs still decently intact. And Editaurus was always fascinated with anatomy. She devoured books that went into the makeup of all manner of flora and fauna, and she marveled at the artistry and efficiency of their forms.

         At first she stitched together parts to create skeletal art pieces; Then hodgepodge taxidermy. But it was only a matter of time before Ed became a Chimera Caster, and a prodigal one at that. With just a few discarded bits from a nearby butcher, she could create a living, breathing Chimera that obeyed her will.

         Editaurus used her chimeras to aid in her and her father’s work, making things much easier for the latter; On Ed’s end, they became much more difficult, but in a way thrilling and challenging. Now she began to experiment with lifeforms, combining different aspects and aesthetics to create beautiful and twisted creations.

         She garnered community attention, and picked up multiple jobs creating chimeras. From there, Editaurus became a rags to riches story, becoming a famed artist and celebrity. She started her own studio, moving out from her town, while sending money to her father who was able to retire in peace elsewhere.

         With various suppliers at her beck and call, Editaurus had all of the ingredients she needed to craft complex recipes, which she stored in her living cookbook. Many of the things in her studio were also chimeras; She became a master of life, often debuting her latest chimeras on the runway, posing them for magazines and photoshoots. Editaurus eventually modeled herself, and turned her magic onto herself, modifying her body as she replaced it with different parts. She too became a chimera.

         Her face? A repurposed, upside down squid; The tentacles as hair, the tip of the squid as her chin. An eye has been grafted on. Bat wings adorn both sides of her head, and grant Editaurus the hearing of these creatures. Her torso is a bee abdomen, with lungs at the front of her chest. Ed’s right arm is composed of large, writhing nematodes; The left is a raptor, with a modified spider replacing her left hand.

         This spider-hand can sprout webs that Editaurus uses to stitch together chimeras with near-invisible threads, thus leaving the marks of being artificial gone; This makes her chimeras seem seamless, more real, and this is part of Editaurus’ goal; To create creatures that feel like they could exist on their own. Chimeras indistinguishable from natural flora and fauna. And considering how bizarre the Monster Realm’s life can be, this is not difficult.

         Her skirt is a lizard’s frill and shrunken head; One leg is a goat’s to rapidly kick with, the other a grasshopper’s to leap. Little fins on her ankles can flutter like a hummingbird’s to grant flight. Four branches are angled and move like spider limbs on Editaurus’ back, allowing her to photosynthesize; They are wreathed in webs.

         Being a celebrity, Editaurus was among the first of the Warlocks to be found by Majikus. There was discussion, and a bit of dispute regarding who would lead; Ed was impressed by Maj’s vision, but had plenty of constructive criticism to offer. Despite her eccentricities, Majikus was able to negotiate Editaurus’ loyalty and a lower place beneath her, but Ed will often suggest a dispute in leadership.

         Still, she is no backstabbing schemer, just someone very proud and confident; She was often belittled and seen as weird and lowly due to her social class and interests. So Editaurus had to believe in herself to survive and then succeed. And she can be quite the visionary, and offer some decent advice; But she can also suffer from tunnel vision as a result, not unlike Majikus. She believes all of the different aspects of the Monster Realm, its populations and species, can all come together like one massive chimera; Erm, not a literal one. Well, maybe…

         Unsurprisingly, Editaurus helps in calculating how to fuse the Magestones back together. Her own, the Green Magestone, has been used to up the production rate of her chimeras tenfold; Majikus finds them vital to creating an army that can help them take over the Monster Realm. Editaurus agrees, but gripes over this quantity over quality approach that Majikus insists upon; She is well aware that there is a quality to quantity in and of itself, but even so. She feels her vision is being compromised for factory production and standardization, when her chimeras were always meant to be an art form, an expression.

         Editaurus’ studio is covered in many webs, which she uses to wrap up and store the various ingredients she has; Others are kept in cauldrons. She can sprout webs from her back and summon ingredients upon them, from which to pluck from her ‘wings’ and craft into a chimera on the fly. Editaurus can switch out ingredients in her own body on a dime, and has experimented with many looks and forms for different environments and purposes.

         Editaurus wields other spells such as electrocution, using web threads to conduct her bolts; This can be used to jumpstart her chimeras or even allies, and her ingredients and understanding of anatomy make Ed a skilled healer. Infamously, she can charge her right hand’s Magestone to literally slap the life back into a person.

         Editaurus is in charge of chimera production; They act a major portion of the Warlocks’ armies, like Viracious’ undead being considered expendable from traditional conscripts. This makes the Warlocks more popular amongst subjects, who have to risk less in serving them. Ed’s creations are quite intelligent for chimeras, being able to wield weaponry; Editaurus can salvage brain chunks from dead warriors and use them to program her chimeras with their memories, knowledge, and skills. This can make some chimeras even more difficult to distinguish from sapients, which calls into question what is even the line between them…?

         If she isn’t imbuing life into that which has already lived and feasible of living again –ingredients too decayed are only for Viracious to control, not Editaurus- then she can imbue life into nonliving things such as the earth, water, even fire. This is the power of the Green Magestone, and she can mix this up with more traditional chimeras; These constructs, due to not being made of organic matter and functioning organs, do not have the staying power of proper chimeras and thus tend to fall apart beyond Editaurus’ range. This is another strength to her chimeras; Their longevity and ability to operate far from their creator. Being the sole source of a massive army, Editaurus’ eccentricities and pride often have to be humored for the cause’s sake. But she is also legitimately admired for her artistry and skill, too.

[adiradirim]

Hello! I saw your post of a drawing of historical sefardic fashion and it really interested me. I'm jewish and love historical fashion, but dont know anything about how they intersect, or even if there was distinct jewish fashion besides following shaatnez and sumtuary laws. Do you know of any resources that would let me learn more?

Hi there!! I am very far from anything resembling an expert on historical Jewish fashion and other aspects of material culture; I'm just a hobbyist, with a particular interest in Sephardic culture, which is of course just one area of a wide and rich tapestry of Jewish history and experience. Naturally Jewish dress varied widely across the diaspora and time periods, depending on a number of factors including importantly levels of tolerance and local laws - particularly whether Jews were required to be visually distinguishable in some way as opposed to being permitted to fully take on local dress. In light of these restrictions, their absence, or their gradual lifting over time, you often get a hodgepodge over time of distinctive and local elements, which is of course a deeply Jewish thing in general. This article is a really good run-down of some of these principles behind historical Jewish fashion, I highly recommend it. Unfortunately, because it's something of a niche topic, access to resources is not super easy - a lot of the stuff I've looked at are older texts I've had to order, and expense can be a real barrier. History of Jewish Costume by Alfred Rubens is also one of the most comprehensive volumes concerning this subject to exist, though limited by its time. But like I said, hard to get your hands on. I may end up doing a series of posts centred around things taken out of these sort of books, as I did for Stavroulakis' work, because the information is just not all that accessible.

To be honest, some of your best bets for finding more starting points for information without dropping serious cash on books are looking through Jewish museums' online art/life/culture categories and exhibits to see what you can find. Check out here and here for some stuff I've spent time perusing. A lot of the photos have descriptions explaining how the pieces are uniquely Jewish or Jewishly distinctive if they're adapted from local dress styles.

[arduousfanfare]

Thesis Statement: Blizzard wrote itself into a corner with Diablo 4 and are now trying to reconnect the dots to past games/lore.

Spoilers For: Diablo, Daiblo 2, Diablo 3, Diablo Immortal, Diablo 4. Pedantically discussing the larger pieces.

On a personal level what isn't considered spoilers, to me, is facts that are instantly found on any wiki, general lore in the basic of searches. Including game information, art, etc.

For Context: In Diablo 4: Season 3, Season of the Construct is led by Zoltun Kulle. Diablo 4 takes place 50 years after the DLC of Diablo 3: Reaper of Souls. Diablo Immortal is supposed to put the gap between Diablo 2 and Diablo 3. Between Diablo 2 and Diablo 3 it's 20 years. Between Diablo 1 and Diablo 2 it's 2 years.

The Focus: Game World Maps, expanding the world created in December 1996 with every iteration except Diablo 4 can be both good and bad.

The Problem: How each game ends, tying into the world "transformation" but poorly in the sense as with each iteration creates more disconnect.

And now without further ado...

In the beginning there was a town. It was cursed. The NPCS are few and far between but all serve specific purposes as you descend down into the darkness of the blighted church.

The roots heavily inspired by a table top game, Dungeons & Dragons. A lone hero fighitng to defeat the evil that has poisoned them. As the years go on this basic format warps significantly. There is no world map at this point. There is 3 character classes without limitations on what items and skills they can develop. The player can choose what points to invest in their basic stats and skills to invest in as well as some items will provide their own skills.

In Diablo 2 you are in a hodgepodge camp with other survivors. Two look familiar but not exactly. If you do look it up from Diablo 1 the Warrior, Rogue, Sorcerer are Prince Aiden [Becomes the Dark Wonderer and brings the blight of Diablo to the rest of the world], Jazreth [Becomes Diablo 2 Villain the Summoner], and Moreina [Becomes Blood Raven formerly of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye]. The town of Tristram has fallen a second time and a familiar face joins the journey through the lands through an ACT structure. That is the only way to orient the world. The world if Procedurally Generated while the Camps is what orient and grounds the player.

The player can choose between multiple classes this go around with more unique basses, skill trees, basic backstories. All NPCs proceed to comment on whatever you choose. Continuing to give purpose in every step as to why the player is here.

Each ACT has a completely different Tileset, with different color enemies of similar statures mixed with new ones to continue to test your mettle against. As you progress it does feel like you are traveling the world.

Lore Point:

The End of Diablo 2: The World Stone is destroyed and exposes Sanctuary more to Heaven and Hell. Wrapping up key stories like the Barbarian Tribes being scattered without purpose after losing the stone.

Everything serves a significant purpose and is extremely detailed.

These trappings are what forms a style that people continue to enjoy today in other games based on this format of using a town to ground the player in the world. Path of Exile taking advantage of this format.

In Diablo 3 you choose your class, you are a traveler who make their way to New Tristram, talk to a Familiar NPC, meet the real Protagonist of the game, retread old enemies and plot points. You do Travel the World, you do have an ACT structure tied to the World Map. You see Sanctuary for what it is. A super continent.

You do get to visit Islands and Heaven/Hell through portals. It all comes together in an established thing.

Lore Point:

Diablo Immortal: Uses the same map and locations as Diablo 3. Continuing to bridge the game between 2 and 3.

The End of Diablo 3: You kill Diablo, trapping him with the other Evils into the Black Soulstone.

The End of Diablo 3; Reaper of Souls: Malthael shatters the Black Soulstone, the 7 Evils are released into the world, the final prophecy of Adria comes true.

Your Player Character is now a retconned child of the Nephalem, you do have a background but again it doesn't play into any significant story beat as you are not the Hero of this story. You are more of a witness.

With all that being said, laid out, established...

[On one hand, this could've been the reset that this franchise needed. This could've been a great leap forward with deepening every piece in a new but familiar space. This could've been Diablo's WoW moment. It hasn't been. This is Diablo Casual.]

In Diablo 4 you are a lost person who tries to weather the storm only to stumble into the cult of Lilith and start the journey to understand her reawakening. Only to find out you're not the Hero of this Story either and you can skip the campaign by making 1 character, get past the cutscene and forget about it. You don't have to play it at all. Which means you can get right into killing demons and getting that sweet loot.

Arguably the actual Campaign is so poorly written and with how it "ends" on a cliffhanger of the real Main Character sailing away... Its mind numbing when the entire game world has been this one significant space and islands dotting around it. Heaven/Hell accessed by Portals but Heaven is silent. Hell is developed a little more interestingly but its not enough.

The Main Antagonist of the game Lilith is devolved into a cartoon villain. There was an opportunity to present these legendary characters into a more moral grey light, possibly adding real rpg components and pushing the story forward in a significant way. None of this happens.

The map is a super continent. Each significant town is a main hub with smaller places spread out. None of the previous locations are mentioned. The character classes are back to basics with only 5 without a knight type. There are distinct tile sets but the enemies are reused/recolored like Diablo 2. There are some enemies who represent classes from Diablo 3, like cultish Zakarum and the monks. But there is no grounding. There is no roots. There is no reason.

Overall the disconnect is surreal. Even more so with "story themes" [in the clinical loosest meaning] being put into Seasons and Zoltun Kulle being hunted for in season 3. It feels out of left field. It could've been tied in better with previous game mentioned Horadrim, deepening how this continent has deep dark roots to previous games. That just like trying to renovate an old house the bones will remember what was lurking there. People have in ancient times rebuilt cities on top of the same points like the city of Troy. Each iteration pancaked on top the next to do in theory better. Building its history.

I understand this is a new game in an established franchise. I understand they wanted to go back to darker, gritty roots that feel more reminiscent of Diablo 1. I understand they took almost every axed feature of Diablo 3 and put it into Diablo 4. Dedicated PvP areas, Paragon Boards, deeper but simpler character creation with builds. Wanting to provide an easier point of entry into this. I understand not everyone really cares about Lore. I understand the first two games were made by essentially the same people/team and then the next two/three games by different people. I understand that even if the original creators had stayed on it wouldn't have made any difference and its just mental conjecture.

I don't understand the why. I can't even figure out if its the execution of these ideas that's bothering me the most or whoever is allowed to write it hasn't put in the work about it. I'm not saying we need the original team back on this because that's a boring argument. I'm saying there is no cohesive structure. No one seemingly at the wheel making these decisions in a significant way that would further the story of this particular game.

It all feels out of left field. Not disappointment. Just disconnected.

Is asking more from a Billion Dollar AAA company too much? Some would say yes. I wouldn't say so. Expectations is a loaded word. Everyone has their own biases and I wouldn't mind a Diablo MMO. But perhaps Blizzard has been clouded too long with WoW. There is so much potential but it continues to feel wasted.

[zodiac-wars]

I was tagged by @cetra to give some facts about me and to tag 9 other people to get to know better! alas something in me absolutely hates forwarding chain posts bc i always feel like im pestering people (even though i love getting them bc i love talking about myself lmao) so im not gonna tag folks but if you read this and wanna do it please do!

Favorite color: green! i especially like greens that remind me of nature like something tinted a little blue or brown

Last song: Waterloo by ABBA is the most recent thing on my giant hodgepodge spotify playlist

Last movie: the new TMNT movie which was a lot of fun! i really liked the art style and the dialogue was really well done

Currently watching: jjk shibuya arc and helck, im also halfway through the bear s2 and i gotta finish that soon bc im cancelling my hulu sub before the price goes up

Currently reading: I started The World We Make by N. K. Jemisin but I've barely put any time into it yet (also im rereading one piece after i finished the live action OOPS)

Current obsession: Armored Core has a vice grip on my heart. Rusty <3....

Sweet savory or spicy: I'm really bad with spicy stuff tbh but I'd say i like sweet and savory equally, just a matter of mood

Currently working on: I am hoping to get the last few AC6 achievements in the next few days so I can go back to playing Baldur's Gate lol, also working on getting employed again lmao

[corpuscristiano]

WAIT IS THAT...CRISTIANO? i forgot about that guy.

FULL NAME: Cristiano Martin Van Allen NICKNAMES: Cris, Van Allen AGE + DATE OF BIRTH: Twenty /// April 5th, 1965 ( i think???) JOB: Bartender @ The Pit MAJOR: Art Education

TRAITS: Worldly, Smart-Mouthed, Family-Oriented, Hypercritical, Confident, Flirtatious, Loud, Obtuse, Overdramatic INSPO: Katie Morosky (The Way We Were), Lito (Sense8), Odd Della Robia (Code Lyoko), Elliot (Euphoria)

SILLY LITTLE BIO FOR A SILLY LITTLE BOY🎊

Cristiano is by no means an outcast. He's been in the gang's orbit since before he could remember. But even so...Cris likes to think of himself as a lone wolf. A jaded artist staring down life's barrel with a smug grin.

Cristiano is by no means an outcast. He's been in the gang's orbit since before he could remember. But even so...Cris likes to think of himself as a lone wolf. A jaded artist staring down life's barrel with a smug grin.

This is mostly an act. Cris is a nerd first and foremost, and a budding community leader in his own right. He's read books by every activist known to man. He spends his free time in front of canvases and hodgepodge statues. He's the kinda guy who reminds all his friends about their Miranda rights...repeatedly.

His obsession with bridging art and activism started pretty young. It's kinda inevitable when your mom runs a boundary-pushing bookstore. Twigs was known as a cheap place to get used college textbooks and get psychic readings by the one and only Astrid Van Allen. He was a consumer first and foremost. An inquisitor. Yeah, that sounds right. Astrid Van Allen was more than happy to provide her son with the resources and the answers. She was gonna do this single mom thing right.

Maybe subconsciously, Cristiano wanted to be worldly for her. He saw the other kids in Cherry. Most of them had dads...and if they didn't there was an explanation. Astrid shut down any conversation revolving Cristiano's father...often in a tone that Cris could only define as "nice-nasty". When Cris won an art competition or got straight A's, those pesterings were replaced with backhanded compliments.

"He is shockingly well-behaved!"

"Do you think he gets that art stuff it from his dad?"

His love for him mom and for intersectional feminism (Thanks Maya Angelou!) made him very bitter about comments like these. Really...as he got older, the olden day mindsets in Cherry began to make him more and more angry. Cris started to vocalize this bitterness in school. Vandalizing bathroom stalls with Malcom X quotes. Interrupting teacher's lessons with counter-points and anecdotes about injustice.

Needless to say, this behavior landed Cristiano in detention quite often. The inevitability of the smart-mouthed activist constantly finding himself in trouble with "the establishment" fueled his artistic fire. By high school he was pretty well known by his loud mouth and louder art pieces. But things started to get weird in around that time. Well weirder than being raised by a woman who claimed to see spirits and auras. He and his friends were suddenly privy to stabbings, masked figures, drama queens, & cheating scandals. All great inspiration for Cris's artistic endeavors...but ironically deeply distracting for a kid just trying to get into fucking art school and flee Cherry with his mom in tow.

Graduation didn't help calm things down. Right before Cristiano could start classes at CCU (a very sizeable downgrade from his dream pick of UCLA), the news struck. The Van Allens could no longer afford to run Twigs. Maybe it was a drop in sales...maybe it was a mismanagement of money (Astrid was never the most responsible when it came to that kind of thing), but what was done was done.

Those times were a haze for Cris. His second home had seemingly gone up in smoke. He suddenly felt a responsibility to show up for his friends as they got pulled tighter and tighter into the mystery of the LDB. He became a ball of stress to put it lightly. And even as things began to resolve (If you could call Lux Lewis revealing to be a domestic terrorist and hightailing it outta there a resolution)…Cris felt like a changed kid. No…a changed man! He’s shaved his head, garnered a few stick & poke tattoos, and unfortunately…sold half of his art portfolio. He is the breadwinner of the Van Allen household nowadays after all.

These days Cris is a survivor first, artist/activist second. He spends his evenings slinging drinks and pretending to be a Russell brother at The Pit. He spends his days perusing his Art Education degree. If he's stuck in Cherry for the rest of his life, he might as well spend it empowering the young minds that inhabit it. Occasionally you might find him at the boardwalk selling caricatures and groaning about the imminent gentrification of Cherry. He's a good time! I swear!

[sureuncertainty]

Specific artist ask: 6, 9, 19?

Gonna answer these for my writing too!

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn’t supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

For visual art I honestly don't know, I tend to mostly be inspired by music, stories, and emotions, but that's really vague, I'm not sure. For my writing though, I'd say dreams are a big one, also songs, I tend to be inspired by lines in songs that then become things. I also definitely get subconsciously inspired by stories that I love and put elements of them into my work without realizing it. sometimes I feel like my writing is literally just a hodgepodge of tropes and pieces of plots and characters and themes from everything else I've read and watched, but 99% of the time it's totally accidental

9. What are your file name conventions

So for art, I usually just name stuff based on the character it's portraying and then something about the drawing theme (i.e. emma autumnal) but then sometimes there's nothing specific or i have like 19382938298 drawings of 'sexy iris' for instance, so i can't really use that so I end up with a whole list of file names that are just character name + doodle or sketch or random numbers or whatever.

for writing, it depends on if it's like a throwaway drabble or if it's like an actual polished piece but usually ends up being similar. or i just name stuff with things that make it impossible to find like "silence agenda outline" "silence agenda outline2" "tsa outline" "silence agenda notes" etc. and then i have to click through them all to find them. (scrivener makes this problem easier but doesn't get rid of it)

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

Ngl, i hate drawing anything that's not a person for the most part so i'm gonna say clothes and especially shoes! idk why but I really really love drawing shoes. (which is kinda cheating 'cause i know they're part of a character design but still TECHNICALLY inanimate)

[togetherwearestrongfans]

Do you think if I talked long enough I could get a gallery to rip my uterus out and display it for the low low cost of a hysterectomy blah blah blah wasted potential blah blah blah finally having a say on what happens to my body.

Actually there's so much good art and ideas out there, I don't want to see entire gallery spaces dedicated to how "immaculate" my worst enemy is I want to see people's joy not punishment. Trans art gallery takeover where each artist creates a piece where they feel like their gender is represented and then the hodgepodge collection (as it should be because Every! Person's! Experience! Is! Different!) is unleashed to the public and they will definitely not get it but maybe one kid would and that would be enough. That would be all I care about. If I have to read or look at one more piece of art that reduces women not even to motherhood but to no better than a brood mare I'm gonna start creating public spectacles.

im so tired of "feminist" art revolving around uteruses and shit like regardless of how transphobic it is it's just completely trite and unimaginative