#so many specific and crisp images

[headspace-hotel]

In my dream I stood on a deck overlooking a large expansive pond and watched two whooping cranes that were mates. There was a flock of gulls nine hundred strong (I don't know how I could tell immediately it was nine hundred). There were other birds too. I cried seeing the birds. I knew I was seeing the world as it should be.

Then my dream took me to a beach in Connecticut, USA, where i went inland and saw agricultural fields full of corn stalks that had been knocked down. Near the coast there was a park I visited that bordered an ancient forest that was very dark on the inside owing to the density of the trees and the vines covering them. It's so lush because we're near the ocean, I thought. But I thought it was odd that there was such an ancient forest in a place like Connecticut, and that the park would exist here but leave the forest be. Then I understood that the name of the park meant something like "remembrance" or "monument," and that the park preserved the ancient forest so its importance would be preserved.

Then I went north to a parking lot on the eastern coast of Canada, then to a vacationer's condo in Paraguay, then to India, at which point I went inside to a basement with a washer inside and a pile of dirty towels, pillows and bedding. I became very preoccupied with trying to cut a towel into equally sized strips, but then I realized I had mixed the clean towels and the wet, soiled bedding together and soiled them all in the process. I woke up with my sheets soaked in sweat

[soath]

One detail from 4SD and Brennan’s comments that I think I’m interpreting correctly is that the Oculus Thalamus genuinely wasn’t supposed to pick up this degree of interpersonal evidence. It was a GPS tracker with a little bit of emotional and magical imaging, meant to ID groups of refugee-workers planning sabotage or members of the Somnovum sneaking out of their quarantined mad philosopher zone. It’s because it was based on cribbed and warped divine magic that it’s catching David-Attenborough-narrated 4K IMAX footage of the gods specifically. It’s amplified for them because so much of Aeor was made by studying (dissecting) how divinity works. And because Aeor was so overconfident and tracking so many people they never realized in the 30 plus years Arcadia and SILAHA were in the city that if they clicked zoom-and-enhance on these two citizens specifically they’d get a truckload of information.

This does raise the question of what Ludinus thought he could gain from the Thalamus to begin with—did he know the gods’ memories were there or was he just relying on being able to find something and stumbled on a crisp 12-15 hour binge for the kiddos.

[genericpuff]

On today's episode of "Rachel exaggerates things to make herself sound cooler-"

Soooo this is a lie.

No seriously, this has to be a lie. I don't make these kinds of accusations willy-nilly. This has to be a lie.

First of all, if her file sizes are truly 11GB for each episode, that would mean her file resolutions would have to be stupid high, and I just ain't buying that when so much of her art comes out looking like fried chicken.

But again, look at the backgrounds. Crystal clear. Which supports my theory that Rachel has her assistants draw the characters flat and exports them as PNG's so that she (or another one of her assistants) can slap the backgrounds in afterwards which is why when they pinch and zoom, the backgrounds look fine (as they're added in afterwards) and the characters look like they've been drawn with chalk. The shading itself isn't deep fried though, which is, again, because Rachel adds in the shading in post after her assistants have sent her all the flats.

Anyways, moving on from that, if her file sizes are actually 11GB per episode, that would mean her resolution would have to be STUPID high and that would mean there's no excuse for panels to look like this. This is not a Webtoons compression problem, Webtoons does compress images for you if you don't do it yourself but they don't result in specifically deep fried textures like this, that's ALL happening on Rachel's side. If it were a Webtoons' problem, the entire comic would look like that, not just select panels.

This is also what the panels tend to look like in book form. The book art is clearly very compressed and blurred from being too low of a resolution for print, which means either the editor is not being provided the root files, or the root files weren't ever that crisp to begin with. Either one is plausible and either one isn't good.

But of course, I'm not going to make these claims without my own proof. So here's the file sizes for Episode 12 of Rekindled, the longest episode in the series so far by panel count and page length, clocking in at 42 panels and an average of 25 layers per page (and that's including the text layers which adds a good chunk on its own, the actual art layers are like, half of that).

Also, here's what a pinch and zoom panel in Rekindled comes out looking like:

You can still pick up on some fuzziness, but the lineart doesn't look straight up chunky like it does in LO.

Meanwhile, one of my longest episodes of TIME GATE: [AFTERBIRTH] has a file size that honestly shocked me with how small it was.

Guess how many panels that episode had?

Go on, guess. Take a second. Compare it to the file size of Episode 12 of Rekindled, take your best educated guess. Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] is also a full color webtoon with full shading and rendering that I used to upload once a week. Go ahead, I'll wait.

Ninety-seven.

Ninety. Seven.

Not only is that more panels than what LO dishes out on a weekly basis, but its overall file size doesn't even come out to be 10% of what Rachel is claiming LO's file sizes to be.

This is what Time Gate: [AFTERBIRTH] looks like, by the way:

(don't mind the blurriness that's working against my point, that's Tumblr, not me LMAO)

But, let's face it, I didn't want to just use my own examples as a comparison, because that seems unfair. I'm not an Originals creator, I just put myself under similar pressures as one because I'm an idiot who tries too hard.

So I asked one of my Originals pals. I will not disclose their name, but they are someone who works for Webtoons Originals and has similar panel requirements and deadlines. They also work with a similar flatting + shade workflow as LO, they have cel-shaded colors and bold flat coloring.

When I asked them how big their file sizes were, they said that at 2500px width - similar to what I draw at, 2400px width - and 200-300k pixel length (again, they're drawing an entire episode on one canvas) their episode file sizes come out to roughly one gigabyte, very rarely much bigger than that.

Rachel is full of shit. This is some Tommy Tallarico level shit, exaggerating stupid things that don't matter to try and make herself seem impressive. It isn't impressive. It makes her look like an unorganized dunderhead at best, and at worst, makes her look like a flat out liar who needs to prop herself up on the dumbest shit to make herself look good. File gigabyte size isn't impressive or indicative of anything, you can achieve high quality art without your file size amounting to 11 GB, and let's face it, Lore Olympus is not high quality art. You're telling me art like this:

amounts to 11 GB?

Now the only way I can see this happening is if maybe, maybe she had like, a bajillion layers full of garbage-

Oh. Oh no. Lore Olympus. Is a sprite comic.*

(*edit for clarification: I've had people confused over what I mean by sprite comic because LO clearly isn't made with 16/8 bit sprites. Sprite comic was a term universally used back in the day for comics that reused the same body parts, heads, expressions, etc. much like how sprites are designed, often keeping an entire file full of different layers made up of these assets to make for easier development. This technique was utilized in comics like CTRL + ALT + DEL. LO is definitely not literally a sprite comic but the way its layers are designed feel very much like something that's being cobbled together like 'sprite' comics were. I'm old.)

Even with these pics for proof, with 600+ layers on one canvas, if there's barely anything on those layers, then it still wouldn't make up that 11GB file size because the amount of layers doesn't necessarily add to file size on its own, at least not by that much, unless they're actually filled with stuff. And again, Rachel's art in LO doesn't scream "highly detailed with many layers". It only had many layers because for some reason she insists on working that way even to its own detriment.

From the looks of it, Rachel's importing all of her assistants' PNG's as separate layers and adding all the shading and the extra details on their own separate layers and basically dividing everything up into tiny bite sized pieces. That's the only clear explanation I can come up with. But if so, that means she's being INCREDIBLY inefficient with her workflow that it's amounting to SIX HUNDRED+ LAYERS AT 11 GB PER EPISODE. THAT IS ABSURD. THIS COMIC IS WAY TOO LOW QUALITY TO JUSTIFY THESE FILE SIZES AND LAYER COUNTS. RACHEL DOESN'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK SHE'S DOING-

She's also very clearly using the cloud as a way to backup her work and work with her assistants. God knows how much she's spending on cloud space because of her own incompetency.

Honestly, at this point, as I sit here playing the Photoshop equivalent of Cookie Clicker, clicking the 'new layer' button over and over and over again with my mouse to truly understand what it would feel like to operate at 600+ layers per episode of a webtoon, I'm more inclined to believe she's just lying. Capping. Pulling shit out of her ass. Straight up making shit up. It wouldn't be the first time she's done that. But also because the alternative is a lot more grim - the #1 best selling webtoon on the platform is being operated like the world's worst group project and still coming out on the other side looking like deep fried garbage despite its stupid high file size.

[ghelgheli]

17! but also using the opportunity of the ask game to get to know more about the effortless worldbuilding in sff :)

from the end-of-year book ask

17: Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

I think Three Body Problem is the only one meeting this condition this year so I'll have no trouble staying on topic :> but I'm gonna specifically talk about "hard" SF as I conceive of it—I haven't read any analysis so this may just be a jumble of improvised thoughts.

SF, being "speculative" fiction, of course has to take on the problem of speculating and of presenting things that don't (and perhaps cannot) happen. On average this is accomplished thru a healthy combination of scientific grounding and good-natured handwaving: I drop a few sentences about "quantum entanglement" and you go along with my ansible, or you tell me about "positronic circuits" and I agree that you can make a brain with them. This is the compact that makes SF work because you fundamentally cannot expect speculation without, well, ceding ground on reality.

But at least a subset of SF readers are of the kind to really want to grok how it is that this or that scientific feature of the world works or may come about. Every contraption and novel technology is like a puzzle to be riddled out. This is the place where speculation becomes sincere mechanical prediction, and it's why I love hard SF.

This subset of readers can be matched to a subgenre of writers who commit fully to filling in as many blanks in their technological, biological, etc. speculation as possible. The rows of astronomical data can't be left vague—tell me what frequency of light we're dealing with here—xenobiology isn't taken for granted—what is the neurology of your aliens??—and so on. The dots are connected, the rest of the owl is drawn for real, the image is made crisp. Like fireworks for the reader's brain.

When this kind of worldbuilding is executed well imo it looks effortless. Looks, not is, because behind every explanation of near-c travel is hours of research into at least special relativity and time dilation, along with calculations by-hand. Behind every account of an exoplanet's atmosphere is probably a few papers perused on the subject and several articles on scientific american. Peter Watts, in the note at the end of Blindsight, includes a fucking bibliography of a hundred or so references as well as thank-yous to many an academic he split handles of liquor with. And this is only the visible fragment of what has to be a library of knowledge accumulated both passively and actively to make a speculated world feel as concretely plausible as possible.

None of this is necessary for good SF. The aforementioned compact means any author can opt out of this commitment at any time. But it's what it takes to make tightly-written hard SF, where your conceptual hands are kept diligently at your side, waving an idea through maybe once every five chapters when you have no other choice.

So anyway, Three Body Problem is a tour de force in doing this and doing it cleanly. It uses a storytelling device a lot of hard SF employs to make it work: rather than stuffing dense exposition into narration (at which point, just read the source papers) it deploys a cast of characters who more than anything else, really know their shit. We get exposition trickle-fed through experts who are trying, along with us, to make sense of their novel environments and unfamiliar technologies using their knowledge of the present limits of human understanding. This is what Watts does in Blindsight too, by the way: a claustrophobic ship crewed by technical specialists makes first contact, so everyone has something encyclopedic to say about everything and it's only natural.

What astounded me about Cixin Liu's writing is that he made it work just when I least thought he would be able to. I was sure I was being shown things completely inexplicable and necessarily supernatural until he went and explained them in plain terms; better yet, he explained them in ways that made so much sense in retrospect that I was kicking myself for not seeing the answer. This has exactly the flavour of a good puzzle.

The trade-off hard SF makes is that you are often limited in the metaphorical/thematic work you can do through your speculation. I think the contrast between "calendrical science" in Yoon Ha Lee's Machineries of Empire series and Asimov's "psychohistory" illustrates this well.

Yoon Ha Lee has mathematical training, and calendrical science is a speculative field consisting of theorems, conjectures, proofs, etc. in the language of mathematics that stand in for cultural hegemony and power projection. This makes for a great operationalization of soft power: space is filled and distorted by the quantifiable effects of whatever regime is dominant there (the "calendar" here being synecdoche for culture writ large). But obviously he can't fill in the blanks of how a calendar causes spacetime distortions that specifically make one side's weapons more effective, or provide certain formations with shielding effects. This is, I guess, semi-hard (lol) SF—you can see how it's supposed to work, but it's clear that it just won't. What you get in return is pretty politically interesting storytelling.

Psychohistory is the converse: a deterministic-enough lovechild of economics and sociology explained in the Foundation series as using all the familiar methods of linear algebra and differential equations together with unfamiliar innovations of just how to quantify human behaviour in order to make reliable predictions. There are entire chapters dedicated to explaining the conceptual nuance that went into developing psychohistory ("the hand on thigh principle" from prelude to foundation is just about how the theory resolves divergence by reducing insignificant terms to zero) and an entire book to exploring one of its limitations. It's fascinating to read. But you also get little narrative depth out of it, because hard SF, even when done well, is not guaranteed to make a story thematically interesting or politically compelling. This is the Three Body Problem problem too: its political commitments are threadbare and unserious because that's just not what it's about. I couldn't recommend it on those terms, but that's not what I like so much about it. I will say the conceptualization goes a little off the rails in the final chapters, but I think most SF authors were in some kind of string theory inspired fugue state at the time.

What I would love to see (and I'm sure exists) is hard SF that also has interesting politics. Unfortunately that's an intersection of two already-narrow intersections.

ty for ask✨🐐

[tbcanary]

Hi! Do you happen to have basic/simple/easy tutorials for editing comic panels to recommend?

i do not actually have one to refer you to, but i’m happy to write some things up! i’m assuming this is just for removing backgrounds and creating icons; if you want a how-to on the way i animate panels, that lives here.

i use photoshop cs6, but the same general principles should work in other editors. also, there are probably easier or faster ways to do the things i do. i like my methods and i’m comfortable with them, but i’d recommend experimenting to find what works best for you.

and... yeah! let's get into it.

step one: finding a panel

i save panels as i’m reading comics. they all live in one PSD file named “panels,” and i make a new one for each run. anything that seems pretty or thematically resonant gets copied and pasted in there. this way, i don’t have to dig through endless comic issues to find a specific image that stuck with me. i usually save the full page just so the edges are clean and everything is included.

let’s go with this page from birds of prey:

step two: cropping

the way i crop the image depends on two things: what i’m hoping to make, and what the image looks like. here, i’m just doing a basic portrait, and helena is taller than she is wide. that makes it easy; let’s crop it so she takes up most of the frame.

(my preferred ratios are 4x6 for smaller panel edits like this; for banners, i usually do 2x1, but if the framing works better as 3x2, I have done that, too. just feel it out. actual pixel sizes depend on the size of the original image.)

step three: removing the background

this part is, I think, the area with the most room for personal preference. we need to erase the background, and there are a LOT of tools to do this. each one varies depending on what the image itself looks like. there’s the magic selection tool, the eraser, or the lasso or magnetic selection tool. 

(i don’t use the lasso or magnet because they’re evil, to me, but they work reasonably well when you have a character on a mostly solid background and art with thick, defined lines. i have no real advice other than that.)

here, we can mix and match some things. i’m going to start by using the magic selection tool to grab all the white or solid colors and remove them with the delete key, like so:

surprise! gone.

after that, for the more finicky areas, i am a perfectionist and i go in and erase pixels using the eraser tool at 4-5px width. i start by outlining the character, like so:

from there, you can use the lasso tool to select all of the remaining background and delete it. i usually hide the white background layer at this step, too. (i'm also going to color the smoke and the man in the foreground black and redraw the crossbow string with the paintbrush tool. this ain't about him.)

you should end up with something like this:

step four: cleaning the linework

this part is mostly using the layer style stroke and the tool refine edge.

so, because of how selection tools and erasers work, there are a bunch of hidden pixels throughout the image you can’t really see. this drives me absolutely bonkers. at this point, i combine all the layers of the paint i've done so far -- everything except for the transparent background. select the layer with the character — Helena — and apply the layer style stroke, set to “outside” at 3px.

those little black dots are what we're after. there aren't too many right now, because this was a fairly clean edit; sometimes, it looks scary and messy, but that’s okay. the layer style has just outlined all those invisible pixels. i go through and erase them — especially in tight places like corners. for example, this pesky area between strands of hair:

(before vs. after)

once you’ve erased all of those pixels and cleaned up the image, you can go back into the stroke layer style.

you’ve done a lot of erasing and feathering and cleaning up, so chances are, the line work is not nearly as crisp as it looked in the original panel. that’s fine! shift the settings to “inside” and 1px, like so:

sometimes it’ll need to be 2-3 px, sometimes it’ll need to be center-aligned, and sometimes you might even decide it looks better outside or without the stroke style at all! this is all personal preference. do whatever you like.

once it's where you want it to be, i like to duplicate the layer -- to save the one without the new outline in case anything goes wonky. then right click the copy of the layer and "rasterize style" to get a flat image with new linework.

your workspace should look something like this:

if it happens to feel like the edges are a little harsh — which happens sometimes! especially when using selection instead of eraser — you can select the whole image and use refine edge. this softens it. you don’t need to do much; i usually do 2-3px of feathering, a couple pixels of smoothing, and some contrast, depending on how it looks. see below:

you'll have three layers now. it gets confusing, so try to keep track of which one is your active layer. you can delete old ones, if you want; i generally don't, just in case.

there isn’t a hard and fast rule for this part. do what you think looks good. and if you want to refine the edge before you add the new linework, that can work! do another stroke layer style after the first round! test things out and find out what you like. most of the time, it depends on the image and your preference.

after all that, this is the helena we now have:

step five: creating a new background!

this part is easy. create a new layer, pick a color you like — i tend to pull from the actual background using an eye dropper tool, or if it’s for a multiple-part edit, I use the swatches i’ve decided on for the color scheme of the whole thing — and paint bucket that thing right on there. this is some of the blue that was behind her originally:

i don’t like flat colors, pretty much ever, because they feel harsh to me. so i go back and add artistic touches and mess around with the filters a lot. sometimes i pull text or accents from other panels and follow the same steps as above to incorporate them into the edit; sometimes, i don’t. no rules just vibes.

in this case, i want it to be pretty simple. so i’ll make a new layer, then fill it in with a gradient tool. i usually make a custom gradient; one side is the color of the background and the other side is either black or white, depending on the vibe I want.

i do an orbital gradient most of the time — circles are your friend — and focus the center on something that I want to draw the eye to. here, i’m going to do helena’s face.

then i mess around with the opacity until it looks the way i want it to. like this:

step six: final steps

congrats! you have an edited panel! you’re perfectly fine to post/share/use it at this point, but there are a couple other things i like to do to give it that final polish:

if you want to jazz up your edits, try messing around with outer glow, or drop shadow. both of those layer styles can add some emphasis to your focal point. (i prefer those be kept at a low opacity, when i use them, which isn’t often.)

i'd also recommend messing around with gradient maps if you want to superimpose a larger silhouette over the background. that would take more room than i have left in this already far too long guide, but it does add something to have it in there.

i dislike having text bubbles in my edits unless i specifically put them there, so i do have a process for removing them, much like the smoke or the man in the foreground. again, we are running long already, so i won't get into that here. my recommendation if you don't want to deal with entirely removing a bubble is to just paint over the text inside with white so you have an empty text box or speech bubble instead. it's simpler, quicker, and honestly the more common practice based on what i've seen.

that being said, if you want to know how i paint over them -- or how to do anything i didn't get into here -- feel free to ask. i don't mind writing these up.

i have a guide on how i size my images here, which walks through the exporting process. it’s not strictly necessary, but i like for my edits to remain consistent in size, so i do usually follow it.

and that’s it! you’re now ready to edit comic panels to your heart’s content. happy cropping and so on, and thanks for asking me. <3

[cherrylng]

Gears & Playing Analysis - Dominic Howard As a Drummer [STYLE Series #004 - Muse (August 2010)]

Pic: The ‘Starclassic Mirage’ from TAMA used on tour after the release of Black Holes and Revelations. It was only available in the USA at the time, and together with the white painted hoops and rugs, it made a big impact. Many people may remember the tour in Japan in March 2007 using this kit. Dom says: ‘The reason I used it was 50% for the sound and 50% for the look (laughs)’. pic: Jo Hale/Getty Images

Dominic Howard As a Drummer A drummer to love, combining great taste and technique. Text: NISHIMOTO Isao

When discussing the sound of Muse, the focus is often on Matthew Bellamy's guitar, but fans will know that Dominic Howard's drumming is also a must-see/listen. Dom has been featured on the cover of international drum magazines, and not just because he's the drummer in a big-name band. It's not just his playing and the instruments he uses that make him stand out from the crowd, it's also the way he never stops moving forward, always striving for new sounds.

Let's start by looking at the instruments Dom uses. He is left-handed, so his drum set-up is opposite to that of a right-handed drummer, which is also a major feature of his appearance. When he was an amateur, he had trouble using the drums of his opponents as they were, but on the contrary, this gave him an excuse to bring his own drums and set them up at the front of the stage. Dom recalls, ‘Thanks to that, no one complained when I kicked over the drums at the end of the show’ (‘MODERN DRUMMER’, January 2010).

The set-up itself is the standard rock drummer configuration of one bass/one tom/two floor, which has remained consistent since the band's early days. Live, until the tour after the release of Black Holes and Revelations, the band mainly used TAMA's ‘Starclassic’ series. However, the instruments themselves seemed to be frequently replaced as they often destroyed the set. He also used drums from various manufacturers such as DW, Peavy Gretsch, Pearl and Yamaha, which can be seen in their music videos.

On the other hand, the equipment used for recording has changed considerably from album to album. In the early days, the aforementioned ‘Starclassic’ series was mainly used, but for Absolution and Black Holes, a set of several manufacturers was used depending on the song. This included Raddick Vistalite toms, famous for their transparent shells. Dom himself had acquired these on eBay, and said they were almost all the toms heard in Black Holes. The unique rough sound of the acrylic shell, in the good sense of the word, was to his liking at the time, and he also used an acrylic shell ‘Starclassic’ on the following tour. The transparent shells also looked good on stage with the flashy lighting and visuals.

A major change in Dom's equipment came with the recording of The Resistance. The band spent a lot of time creating the sound in a studio they had set up themselves, and after comparing various types of drums, they chose DW's ‘Collector's Maple’ series. Dom was fascinated by the well-balanced sound that extended from low to high frequencies, and used a drum set from this series on tour after the album's release. This was a major change from the previous two albums, when he used different instruments for recording and live performances. Live, the toms and snares are fitted with Roland V-Drums trigger pickups to recreate the sampled sound of the studio sources.

Pic: The latest set-up from the ongoing tour. Custom-finished DW ‘Collector's Maple’ series, with the company's exclusive ‘Vertical Low Timbre’ (VLT) specification. The shell is moulded so that the grain runs vertically up and down, giving it a more powerful low frequency range and a crisp attack than normal shells (where the grain is horizontal). pic: Andy Sheppard/Redferns/Getty Images

Another distinctive feature of Dom's set-up is the gong drum, which is placed to the right of the hi-hat (to the left when viewed from the audience). First used on ‘Map of the Problematique’ from Black Holes, the large-diameter drum, which is used to carve out a heavy bass pattern, is a ‘hand-played bass drum’, so to speak. It was also a regular product of TAMA, who endorsed it at the time, so it seems to have been introduced smoothly. The current DW kit also incorporates a slightly larger version by special order.

As for cymbals, the band used Sabian in the Showbiz period, but consistently used Zildjian from Origin of Symmetry onwards. The set-up of an orthodox combination of hi-hat/ride/two crashes, plus effect cymbals such as splashes and china, has also remained constant (although the size and type of cymbals have changed slightly).

Percussion has also been actively introduced, most notably the ribbon crusher (a small percussion instrument made from a stack of long, thin metal plates) set next to the toms. Recently, a tambourine has also been set beneath it, adding a splash of colour. On the tour of The Resistance, he played timpani in Exogenesis: Symphony Part 1. The sight of him strumming it in a Gachapin costume during his visit to Japan in January this year (2010) is still fresh in the memory. Including other percussion instruments that were used in spots during live performances and recordings, the number of instruments used is quite large.

Let's now turn to Dom's playing side. The omnivorous nature of Muse's music applies directly to his drumming style, with a variety of approaches ranging from big, heavy beats to dance-beat grooves and more relaxed, brush-based playing. His love of hip-hop and Iron Maiden as a young boy is also an indication of the source of his current flexible playing.

One of Dom's most characteristic phrasing is his Ex-1 style of playing, in which he hits the crash cymbals like a ride at the climax of a song. This is not an uncommon approach, but it is interesting to note that some drummers do it while others do not, and Dom uses it so frequently that there are no end of concrete examples. Another of Dom's specialities is the effective incorporation of toms into rhythm patterns, and phrases like Ex-2, for example, can be heard in a variety of songs. Such phrases require him to hit multiple toms while moving them precisely, but he never wavers in his core, swinging his stick up cleanly and clearly shooting each note. The tightness achieved by this kind of crisp strumming is also a major feature of his drum sound. Another related example is Ex-3, a fast and sharp fill-in using triplets to sextuplets. This phrase is often used by technical drummers in the hard rock and heavy metal style, but the fact that he can play this kind of thing without hesitation is what makes him so appealing.

Combining a sense for deft phrasing in almost constant settings with athleticism, Dom is not only integral to Muse's wide-ranging musicality, but is also, from an enthusiast's point of view, ‘a drummer's drummer to love’. Keep an eye on his playing as he continues to move forward with the band's evolution.

Translator's Note: And with that, we're finally done with Gears & Playing Analysis. For that, for the next part, we're going to find out... 100 albums to understand Muse.

That, is going to be a very long recommendation to sift through.

[luminary-lady]

Debunking “The Yoga Certificate” Conspiracy

I can’t believe I’m spending my Sunday evening discussing this, but misinformation is my pet peeve, and this subject happens to overlap with passions of mine, specifically photography and photo-editing. So, allow me to use my expertise in those areas to refute the post that is going around the fandom claiming Alba photoshopped her yoga course certificate. Even if you’re fully onboard with the whole “they’re just PR” argument, I’d recommend hearing me out, so that you don’t look silly and undermine your own credibility by repeating an easily disproven claim.

Debunking the first argument: “The instructor’s name is edited off the certificate.”

This is based off of a misinterpretation of flash photography and how that impacts the color of an image. Here is the photo that Alba uploaded:

The blog who started this conspiracy (which I can’t tag, as they blocked me after I reblogged their earlier post) cropped the photo of the certificate and circled an area like so:

Yes, there is a slight color difference in that part of the photo. The only problem is, there are color differences throughout the photo, because of a phenomenon called illuminant metamerism. This is just a fancy a way of saying that the color throughout image will appear differently depending on the type and amount of light shining on it. When taking a close-up photo of an object with flash, the light from the flash affects how the lens captures the color. This is because of how the light bounces off the photographed object. The effect varies, depending on the focal length, angle, and texture of the object. It many cases, this kind of metamerism can create subtle splotches of different coloring throughout the image, like so:

So, no, the deceptively cropped photo is not proof of editing. It is proof of flash photography. Next...

Debunking the second argument: “Her name is layered over the white line meaning [it’s] placed over it using editing. It aint [sic] written directly on it.”

Again, sorry, incorrect. First of all, this user (with assistance from @nancydrewwouldnever​) claims to have “delayered” the image to prove it was edited. That’s an immediate giveaway that photo editing is not their area of expertise. (No offense.) You cannot “delayer” a JPG or PNG file. If layers were indeed added to the image, you could only discern those layers if you have one of two files: 1) the original .PSD, .IND, or. .AI file that can be opened and manipulated in Adobe Creative Suite or another editing software; or 2) an original PDF file that you’re manipulating in Adobe Acrobat. Instagram stories do not allow for PDF or raw file uploads, so there is no way to “delayer” them, even if they had been edited. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s take a look at the name:

You can see by looking at the “B” and the stems of the “a’s” in Alba’s name that there is some ink bleed from the letters, i.e. the Sharpie or writing implement smudged a bit, creating a blue halo effect from the black ink. And of course the letter “p” crosses over the white line. That’s not proof of editing - that’s how writing works.

We also know that the black letters/numbers were not edited onto the certificate because the blur and pixelation of that lettering is similar to that found on the serif-type white lettering. Using the other blog’s example for a moment, see how their edited-on black lettering has comparatively sharp, crisp edges (for the record, they chose that name, I did not):

It follows then that Alba couldn’t have taken a photo of someone else’s certificate and edited in her information, as the levels of pixelation across the lettering wouldn’t match in that case.

Finally, there are other points that make this conspiracy nonsensical, and they don’t even require knowledge of photo editing:

As the blog acknowledges themselves, the other instructors in the course referred to Alba as a teacher in their Instagram comments. What reason would they have to lie? Do you genuinely think, using all your common sense has to offer, that random normies from Atlanta are “in” on this conspiracy? Genuinely?

People stalked the Yonder website and discovered that Alba taught a “new teacher” class on November 20. Ironically, they tried to use that to prove their previous, now debunked conspiracy that she wasn’t invited to Walt Disney World. Now they’re claiming the yoga studio must’ve received a payoff for her to teach there without a course. As the lingo goes, bffr.

I know some people in this fandom are desperate to believe that Alba is not staying in Atlanta with Chris, that she is just a calculating succubus who pops in for photo ops then spends the rest of her time baiting the fandom. If they believe that, they can justify their nastiness to themselves. They can console themselves that Chris will eventually see her machinations, dump her, and prove them right. I get it - they’ve been proven wrong so many times; and that’s not fun. And here I go, proving them wrong again, though I’m sure they won’t see it that way. They’ll say “hey, Justin!” or “hey, Alba!” or call me a “cleaner.” But they won’t be able to come with facts, because they simply don’t have any.

P.S. Don’t waste time arguing with me on anon. I’ll just delete. If you can’t stand behind your arguments, I’ve got no time for you.

[sourdoughservitor]

The Twelve Days of Omen

Merry meet and welcome to the Twelve Days of Omen are a tradition associated with Yule in pagan circles. Traditionally, these days were seen to present gifts of knowledge from nature. On each of the twelve days following Yule, practitioners who knew where to look would receive a message about their future: a warning about an event, advice about their actions, or perhaps insight into their innermost questions.

But where does one find these omens?

The answer is both simple and complex. The omens arrive, typically from nature, in a quantity equal to the number of Days of Omen that have occured (this cycle). For example, on the third Day, a witch will encounter an image of some kind of triplet.

"But grizzly, lots of things come in ones and twos and threes and so on. How do I know what's just random or normal and what's a message?"

Great question! And here is the beauty of magic, witchcraft, and this form of divination in particular. It's up to you. See, this omen is coming to you, specifically. It's a message for you. So what meaning you derive is up to you. Whether you choose to see it, to accept it, is up to you. This kind of intuitive/interpretive gnostic "sight" is a skill acquired through practice, but a good rule of thumb to follow is asking yourself "What speaks to me? What do I feel calling my name, versus being simply there?"

Again, this comes with time. But today is the first Day of Omen, and if you're staring at every single rock you find, every lone branch, and the single leftover chocolate (probably one of those fruit-filled ones) leftover in your office holiday assortment, I do have one more piece of advice. Look for things that seem out of place. Yes, many things come in pairs and quadruplets. Not every dozen eggs in the supermarket is a dire warning for someone. But maybe you stumble across a trio of twigs on Day Three, placed in a perfect equilateral triangle, by chance. Maybe it's Day One and you see a single blade of grass poking stalwart through a sheet of crisp, white snow. Maybe you grab that last carton of eggs for your breakfast scrambles on Day 11 and--what? You're one egg short? What does that mean? Should you take the eggs, or leave them?

What Omens Mean

We've talked about how to identify the twelve omens, but understanding them is another manner. I wish I could provide more advice on that matter but that part is up to you. Do some journalling and reflecting. Why did this message come to you? Why was it presented in the way that it was? What about it is special, and how does it relate to you, your past, and your future? Consider too the circumstances surrounding the omen. It's not just the shitty baker's dozen, it's the fact that it was the only one left at the back of the freezer, and the missing egg is nowhere to be found. What does that mean? If you're still struggling, think outside the box. Ask a friend for an outside angle. I'm confident the meaning will come to you.

Enjoy observing the Twelve Days of Omen! I wish you good tidings moving into the coming cycle. Blessed be 🐻💚

see my Year of the Wheel masterpost for more!

[practically-an-x-man]

Director’s Commentary on your favorite Nikoletta/Abner fic?

Ooooh yes! I'm gonna go with The Facts Were These, since I really love how that one came together (and it's got a lot of references to talk about). That's the fifth fic in the series so I don't believe you've read it yet, warnings for spoilers apply.

Link to the ask game here, and to the original fic here

____

La Gatita Amable. One look around the bar told her it wasn’t exactly… well, amable. No outright fights had broken out, but the room was packed to the gills and flooded with chatter so loud Nikoletta could barely hear herself think. The press of bodies all around her made her hackles rise from the moment she stepped through the door.

In total honesty, this is probably one of my favorite ways I've opened a fic. Pulling the Spanish term amable (meaning "gentle") from the canon name of the bar, using it ironically to describe the chaos and clutter inside the bar, and trying to push Nikoletta's discomfort right from the first few sentences, I just feel like this introductory paragraph sets the scene so well.

The second was the dress. Cleo had found it buried at the bottom of the trunk: a crisp goldenrod, sleek fabric (pure polyester, synthetic and safe) layered with delicate lace flowers, that hugged every curve of her body and pulled in tight to a Grecian neckline at her throat. It was exactly the sort of thing Nikoletta would have worn in her prior life, before the shadows. Despite every warning in her mind… it called to her. She couldn’t resist. She wanted a taste of the life she’d left.

I did actually pick out an existing dress for her here! Obviously it's just a random model wearing it, not Nikoletta's faceclaim (Teyonah Parris), but I thought the dress would look really pretty on her and I loved the flower patterning on it. It's one of the rare times I actually picked out a specific article of clothing and described it rather than going from an image in my head (excluding outfits that are already canon, of course)

But… she wished she could lay her head on his shoulder. She wished she could be closer than this. She wished… a lot of things.

The way this fic is structured, there's this flashback scene here followed by a flash-forward to months after Starro. And there are a lot of parallels between the two scenes! Here's the first one: Nikoletta wishes she could rest her head on Abner's shoulder, and that's one of the first things she does in the second scene.

Abner nodded but didn’t speak. His eyes shifted back and forth, refusing to settle on her. Finally, seeming to summon his courage, he held out a hand. “Care to dance?”

The other thing this fic has a lot of is references to Pushing Daisies. This is for good reason, since their first is canonically inspired by the show, but there are a lot of subtler references sprinkled throughout. This is one of those. Abner holding his hand out and asking "care to dance?" is a reference to s1e4 of Pushing Daisies, in which Ned and Chuck dance on a rooftop while wearing beekeeper suits (so they don't touch directly).

Oh, and the title is a reference to Pushing Daisies as well.

She wondered why it was so hard to speak gently. Sharp words she’d mastered. Anything softer than that just felt awkward, like she was stumbling over herself and couldn’t quite find her balance. She remembered being better at this. Maybe she’d spent too long in prison, surrounded by so many barbs and spurs on every side.

The tough thing about writing Nikoletta is the way that she speaks. She, by her nature, speaks a little awkwardly when it comes to gentle moments. She's spent fifteen years keeping up the persona of the Queen of Belle Reve, in which she perceived any softness as a weak point, so she's not used to vulnerability or soft words like this.

But from a writing perspective... how do I write a character speaking awkwardly without it reflecting on my skills as a writer? Where's the balance between "this character speaks oddly because of her background" and "this author can't seem to write realistic dialogue"? I know that choppy dialogue can take a reader out of the fic, but I also know that therapy-speak from a character that wouldn't give a shit about that breaks the illusion just as much. It's just a tough balance to strike, no matter how many times I write for Nikoletta.

“You know, you…” she sighed, “You really shouldn’t do that.” Despite the words, a faint smile crossed his face. Nikoletta had no idea why.

Another line from Pushing Daisies! In s1e3, Ned and Chuck share a kiss through plastic wrap just like the kiss in the scene here, and the first thing Ned says afterwards is "You really shouldn't do that". Abner smiles because he's thinking of the show and realizes she's just quoted it accidentally, which is even more special to him because (as we see in the second scene of this fic) he'd held up that scene as the pinnacle of romance in his mind and now gets to live it himself.

Who would dare to seek out romance with the most damaged person in Belle Reve? She didn't know why he wanted her.

When I wrote this scene, I really hoped this line came across the way I meant it. It's supposed to be a bit of a fake-out, leading the audience to think she's referring to Abner as the "most damaged person" when really it's herself, in a reflection of her own self-hatred. I almost rewrote it or even outright deleted it, because I was worried it would get misread as her being callous towards Abner, but I liked the line so much that I decided to keep it. And nobody's remarked on it yet (though it's not exactly a popular fic...), so I guess we're fine.

She obliged, turning her attention to the washed-out images flashing across the screen. It struck her, for the briefest moment, as an echo of her own life: a dark-haired man, not too dissimilar from Abner himself, sharing a kiss with a shorter woman through a layer of plastic wrap. She could see why he was so connected to this show. “You really shouldn't do that…”

There's those parallels I was talking about! They're watching the same scene they semi-accidentally reenacted earlier in the fic! Technically speaking this is fit weirdly into the fic (it's the third episode of the show, and most of the way through that episode, so Nikoletta had to be really distracted not to have realized it was the same show earlier), but that's one of those little creative liberties that I didn't figure people would notice or take much issue with. Maybe Nik was distracted, or Abner jumped to episode 3 since it's his favorite, or it was being rerun on live TV and they only caught that part of the episode, or any number of other explanations, it doesn't really matter.

“You look like him, too.” she added, brushing the hair out of his face to get a better look. Abner’s brows crinkled. “Tall and sad?”

Not much to add here, I just thought this line was really funny and wanted to draw attention to it XD It was one of the first lines I wrote when I conceptualized this piece, it just made me crack up.

“I saw myself in him,” Abner mumbled after he’d pulled back from her. His eyes darted briefly to the TV as credits rolled across the screen, “Watching it the first time. I always thought that the plastic wrap was the most romantic thing. Y’know, just… wanting to be so close to someone you couldn’t be close to that you came up with any solution you could. And… being loved even though you weren’t normal.”

Honestly, this is a huge running theme in their relationship - two people who aren't exactly "normal", who have both adverse superpowers and mundane personal issues to work through, who fight hard to work through them and stay together despite that. The whole Pushing Daisies comparison was really just luck, too: I love the show and ended up going through a huge hyperfixation with it at about the same time I started writing for Nik and Abner, and figured that Abner would end up seeing himself in Ned, and it ended up fitting together even better than I initially hoped it would.

I'm just... I'm really happy with how this piece fell together. It's one of my best.

[keaalu]

WIP - ‘Kestrel Kestrel’

So apparently “WIP Wednesday” is a thing? Like I need any excuses to dump incomplete ficbits on the internet.

----

Still feeling sore and muzzy, with 55 lurking quietly next to her, monitoring her vital signs, she’d only been human again for thirty seven minutes but Kate was already on her third plate of sandwiches, crunching her way through Spacehawk’s entire stock of crispy snacks. 101 looked alarmed by how quickly his inventory was dropping but wasn’t hesitating at bringing more when she looked at him in a specific way.

“Growing a whole new skeleton really takes it out of you,” she said, accepting the offering when the zeroid trundled over pushing yet another packet of crisps towards her.

“That’s our last pack of those,” 101 informed her, trying but not quite able to keep all the reproach from his tone. “So if you need anything else you’ll need to pick something different. Like broccoli.”

“Sorry, hon.” She suspected it had probably been Hiro’s favourites she’d been happily munching her way through, if the zeroid’s manner was anything to go by. “I’ll send some more up on your next supply run.”

He chirped an acknowledgement and seemed mollified, for the moment.

“I guess it must have felt a bit like this when you got your body back after Zelda turned you into a cube, huh?” she wondered.

“Oh I don’t think my experience was anywhere near as bad as yours, ma’am,” he demurred. “Mine was more like… maybe just a very unflattering new set of clothes.”

Kate patted him on the head, anyway. “I bet it still sucked. And at least you weren’t a were-cube,” she joked, and winced.

“And it didn’t involve a trash compactor,” he agreed, and gave her fingers a bump. “Would you like a coffee? I just heard it finish brewing.”

“That would be amazing. Thank you.”

He squeaked another little nonverbal agreement, and rolled away to get it. (She wondered if she could get away with asking for more sandwiches when he came back.)

“Tea? Oh, yes please,” she heard Hiro say, and looked up to find the lieutenant in the doorway.

“I ate all your chips, so I think I’m in trouble with your little space husband,” Kate apologised, holding the open pack out to him. Even that small action made her shoulders ache. Perhaps she ought to forego more sandwiches in favour of sleeping for a few days.

Hiro smiled and took a single crisp, but otherwise waved her off. “I once told him I particularly liked these, so now he always buys far too many, then pretends they were on offer. Then we have to somehow store four cases of them.” He settled on the floor next to her, cross legged, and nibbled the snack. “I try not to eat them too quickly, because then he panics that we are running out and buys more.” A little sigh. “There are certain nuances to human behaviour that zeroids don’t quite get, yet, and striking a balance between foods we enjoy and sensible nutritional choices appears to be one of them.”

“Well, you have plenty of ‘sensible nutritional choices’ in the form of broccoli, apparently.”

“And why do you think we have plenty of that?” Hiro gave her an arch look, then relented and took another crisp.

“Yeah, I get it.” Kate chuckled, tiredly. “So do you have an update for me?”

“I do. Not much of one, yet, but we wanted to ensure you were kept in the loop.” He held out the tablet for her.

Kate stared at the confusing mosaic of… biopsy images? “What am I looking at?”

He tapped the first image and it enlarged to a graphical representation genetic data. “Initially, when you arrived and we took a skin sample?” At her nod, he went on; “We thought that Zelda must have done something structurally to alter your DNA, but when we analysed it, it was all still human. We could not explain it. How could you be human, but categorically not human, at the same time? So we did a visual scan of your blood sample, instead. And we found… this.” He touched the screen and brought up a new image.

It was some sort of microscopy of a blood film. Kate could recognise red blood cells easily. The irregular, blobby purplish masses were probably white blood cells.

She had no idea what the scattering of angular black flecks were, though.

She felt a set of cold fingers draw up the back of her neck. “The hell are those.”

“We are still working on our analysis, but they look like very small machines of some sort. They have proved hard to extract to get under the electron microscope. Kiljoy is still working on it.”

---

“The black dots.” She let out a breath in a very long exhale. “Can you remove them?”

Hiro’s silence was all she needed to know.

“We will remove them,” he hastily added. “I just don’t know how quickly we can do it, yet.”

“Can you block them?”

“I don’t know.”

“So what you mean is, I could turn back into a bird at literally any moment. Including at the worst possible time. Like… at the controls of an aircraft.”

He took her hand and squeezed her fingers, briefly. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The two zeroids had both converged on her as well, leaning comfortingly against her.

“It’s okay, guys.” She forced a smile. “I know it’s not your fault. I just… oh, man. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

[numerousbees1106]

Wasteland Scraps

Various cut tidbits from my Wastelands story! These are from various chapters, specifically chapters 5-8 :)

…

Where was he?

His limbs were heavy and somewhat tingly, but otherwise responsive and relatively pain-free. He moved to cover his face with a hand, only to smack someone else in their face.

“Uhnhgggg…” said person groaned.

“Max,” Piett called, recognizing that groan from a few-too-many drunken Imperial hangouts.

“Hnng?” Veers moaned again, twitching.

“Max, get off of me.”

The Imperial General swiftly rolled over, flopping next to Piett with no shortage of wordless complaint.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Piett scanned their surroundings.

It seemed to be a medical room of some sort, with a blinding, sterile atmosphere and an abundance of related machinery. An active bacta tank sat in the middle of the room, and a quick buzz from the Mindlink confirmed who it was.

He had been so certain that this week would be his last. Now, bound in chains and forced to kneel in absolute darkness, he wished more than ever that he had died like he was supposed to.

He remembered shattering the mindscape (he refused to think about why he had spiraled, lest he spiral again) and causing his Hivemind to collapse, injured but alive. The others in the group hadn’t been so lucky, and neither had the remainder of all the lifeforms in the base - even the stray tookas loitering around had not been spared.

He remembered his Master looming over him, a scowl on his features as he ordered Red Guards to lift him to a nearby hoverstretcher. He remembered watching as medics from his own fleet approached Piett and Veers, and he remembered the way his Master instructed the guards to cover him with a sheet, lest anyone else see. He remembered the shame, the humiliation that such an order brought, like he was something disgusting that needed to be hidden from view.

Mostly, he remembered how his severed jaw hung grimly from the wire necklace, glinting in the light, making him sick with fear.

“You must grow stronger,” Lord Vader insisted. “It is pertinent for our relationship for you to be able to defeat me in battle, for you to be able to kill me should the need arise.”

Piett blinked at him, stunned.

“Why, in all the Galaxy, would that be a needed skill?” Piett snapped, horrified.

Vader simply tilted his head, equally perplexed.

“It is important for relationships to be balanced, to be equal,” he said, finally. “I have been researching healthy relationships, and that seems to be a recurring sentiment.”

Piett pushed away the amusing absurd mental image of Lord Vader googling “how to have healthy relationship??? help???” and instead continued to stare at his idiot other.

“I must admit, I do not have very much experience with ‘healthy relationships’ or ‘boundaries’ or any of the other things I found in the advice I have received. I suppose that I will be… learning.”

Piett took a deep breath, resisting the urge to place his face in his palms.

“My Lord. Darling. Babe. That’s not what that means.”

Silence, save for the rhythmic breathing.

“They don’t mean physical prowess when they talk about a balanced relationship dynamic, though it is incredibly sweet that you thought so.”

“Then what do they mean?” Vader huffed, annoyed.

“They mean, like, financially, or when it comes to household chores, and stuff,” Piett replied.

“I… I do not have any money, personally,” Vader admitted. Piett just stared at him, unsure of what he meant.

“If necessary, I am permitted by the Emperor to utilize funds given to me, but I do not have anything else.”

“Hold on, excuse me?” Piett squawked, incredulous. “Aren’t you getting paid?”

Another blank stare from underneath the mask - Piett could feel it.

“For what?” He asked.

“For your job.”

“I do not have a job.”

“Then what do you call this?”

Staring at the screen, he found himself enraptured in what he saw, yet in disbelief of it at the same time.

After passing out in the mindscape, Piett had awoken to the crisp, sterile atmosphere of Recovery. The front of his skull had been fractured, just above his frontal lobe, and the medics said it was a miracle that he survived, let alone that he’d continue to survive with no further complications or long-lasting effects. Even more shocking, they said, was that the same exact thing had happened to General Veers.

He had felt much the same way hearing that tale as he did now, staring at the I-SORE (a rather unfortunate name, if you asked Piett - the place really was beautiful, and in no way an actual eyesore) report, seeing his name listed as the co-discoverer of a new species of warbler.

Of course, when Lord Vader had inexplicably called to him, a small bird in his hands, he had been… perplexed? Bemused? Experiencing an odd mixture of ‘what in the galaxy is happening’ and ‘oh shining stars that is SO romantic’? Either way, he didn’t quite know how to express, with words, the confusing mixture of emotions he felt.

He hadn’t seen what Lord Vader had opted to name the bird, or if he had even decided to name it at all. In fact, he hadn’t even known Lord Vader to be the least bit interested in birds, and Piett couldn’t deny the fluttering feeling he felt in his chest when he realized they possibly had a (very unexpected) shared interest. Still, never in his wildest of dreams could he have imagined that Lord Vader would have named the bird after him. And yet, staring in front of him in unyielding text were the words Piett’s Warbler, and Piett felt ready to just pass out then and there.

[idoun]

you don’t have the pointy ears? | idunn & alear (f)

[ heavy armor +1 | @alliberacio ] She got there because of the promise of energy. Or so that’s what she heard from one of many voices around. Energy, fitness, exercise…her mind immediately imagined a battlefield, but the image conflicted with the lack of weapons being brandished and the overall mood of the people surrounding her. It was very…positive? Or at least, what she imagined that could be considered positive. 

Fae once told her that happiness could be expressed in many ways other than laughing and smiling. Maybe this energy was what she meant back then.

Or maybe it was the rather loud music blaring through the room, that was also a source of energy- though to Idunn it was more of an odd mystery to be uncovered. It had been years since the last time she heard anything close to a song, but she could still easily tell that those instruments were at the very least new to her ears. The noise reminded her of when the air is crisp with magic, the crinkling and droning sound of an atmosphere loaded with energy. Was that the intended effect?

She preferred to not think too hard about the colorful weird outfits, because something more interesting caught her attention.

That smell- a dragon. 

When she first entered the Academy, Idunn could already tell that there were a handful of dragons inside. The distinctive smell of humans mingling with that of manaketes- it reminded her of Arcadia but on a much larger scale. It was actually nice, it reminded her of her new home. 

Now, she spotted one of such dragons.

A girl much like herself, but slightly younger. Mismatched long hair and irises…also mismatched, much like her own. Did this girl suffer the same fate Idunn did? Did she lose her soul as well? She was a different type of dragon. She definitely wasn’t from Elibe. Idunn remembers seeing this girl in the room where they’d learn lessons- the name…their classroom, but couldn’t remember her name. Or at least, she doesn’t remember if she ever heard her name before.

She felt powerful, that dragon girl. Idunn could tell from her presence. In a sense, her presence almost reminded her of Roy. 

Idunn stared, curious but not moving a single muscle. One of the first things Fae told her was that if she wanted to make friends, she should say ‘hi’ to people and introduce herself. Did…did she want to make friends? Was there a specific feeling for that to happen? She wasn’t very sure. Right now, all she did was stare- perhaps she was staring too hard, but at the same time she found herself unsure of what to say.

[616witch]

your comic edits are beautiful, showstopping, gorgeous, etc etc and i was wondering if there are any tutorials or resources you could point me towards to learn how to create amazing edits like you do <3 (there's a ton of gif-making tutorials out there and that i have used, but i can't seen to find any for comic edits)

aw thank you so so much! <3

one of the big places that have helped with both tutorials and resources is texturelabs and their youtube channel, which has a bunch of tutorials on it that uses their resources in graphic or commercial design! their resource page is super extensive too, and they have different size options to download which is super helpful for getting really sharp and crisp images, and everything is completely free to use!

i think it can be also helpful to make pinterest boards of both designs that inspire you, but also tutorials and design processes. i mean, a lot of these people are on tiktok but i don't know how that site works so i usually take what they reupload to pinterest djjkfvvf. design syndrome has a bunch of process videos of how they do their prints and designs, and their gumroad has some really good free resources and packs!

searching freebie in behance also gives you access to a bunch of fonts, mockups, psds, textures and more! a lot of them are designed for marketing and advertisement but you can come across some really cool fonts n psds there!

n of course, dafont is great for free use fonts! that also applies for gif making, but you can never have too many fonts (except when i had to hard reset photoshop bc i had over 200 fonts downloaded and my laptop bailed but we don't talk abt that)

i hope this helps! i tried to keep this open-ended, but if you ever have specific questions about a specific image of mine or something please don't hesitate to send another question! everything i use is free, so i'm always willing to say what image or process i used if needed, but these are my most used resource and tutorial places :) hope this helps!! <3

[amazongraphics]

Best practices for Amazon listing images, optimization guide for 2024

Introduction:

In the highly competitive world of e-commerce, Amazon stands out as a giant, offering a platform for millions of sellers to showcase their products to a global audience. While compelling product descriptions and reviews are crucial, the visual appeal of your Amazon listings is equally, if not more, important. In the digital marketplace, where customers can't physically touch or try products, the images you present play a pivotal role in influencing purchase decisions. This is where Amazon listing image optimization becomes a critical aspect of your overall strategy.

The Power of Visuals:

Amazon listing image optimization involves enhancing your product images to make them more visually appealing, informative, and persuasive. With countless options available to shoppers, your images must stand out and effectively communicate the value of your product.

Here are some reasons why image optimization is crucial:

First Impressions Matter: When potential buyers scroll through search results, the first thing that catches their eye is the image. A high-quality, engaging image can make them stop, click, and explore further.

Increased Visibility: Amazon's search algorithm considers various factors, including click-through rates. Optimized images that encourage clicks can positively impact your product's visibility on the platform.

Boosted Conversion Rates: Clear, well-optimized images help customers better understand your product, reducing uncertainty and increasing the likelihood of a purchase.

Tips for Amazon Listing Image Optimization

Use High-Quality Images: High-resolution images are not only visually appealing but also instill confidence in potential buyers. Invest in professional photography to showcase your product in the best light. Clear, crisp images that accurately represent your product can enhance customer trust and satisfaction.

Follow Amazon's Image Requirements: Before diving into the creative aspects of image optimization, it's essential to adhere to Amazon's image guidelines. Ensure your images meet the technical specifications, such as the required file formats (JPEG, PNG, GIF, or TIFF), resolution (at least 1000 pixels on the longest side), and a pure white background. Non-compliance can lead to suppressed listings or even account suspension.

Leverage Multiple Angles: Provide a comprehensive view of your product. Include images from different angles to provide a comprehensive view of your product. Show close-ups of key features to highlight quality and craftsmanship.

Optimize Image Size for Quick Loading: Fast-loading pages are crucial for a positive user experience. Compress your images to the smallest file size possible without compromising quality. This ensures that your product pages load quickly, reducing bounce rates and improving the overall shopping experience for customers.

Highlight Key Features: Use images to showcase your product's unique selling points. Incorporate graphics or text overlays to emphasize important details.

Tell a Story with Lifestyle Images: Include lifestyle images that show the product in use Help customers visualize how your product fits into their lives.

Optimize for Mobile Users: Many shoppers browse Amazon on mobile devices, so ensure your images are clear and impactful on smaller screens.

Consistency Across Images: Maintain a consistent visual style across all your product images. This includes consistent lighting, backgrounds, and overall aesthetics. Consistency creates a cohesive brand image and helps customers recognize your products easily.

Test and Iterate: Optimization is an ongoing process. Regularly analyze the performance of your product images using Amazon analytics. A/B test with different images to understand what resonates best. Iterate based on customer feedback and market trends to stay ahead of the competition.

In the competitive landscape of Amazon, effective listing image optimization is not just a good practice – it's a necessity. As the first point of contact between your product and potential customers, your images must convey trust, quality, and value. By following the tips outlined in this guide, sellers can enhance their Amazon listings, increase visibility, and ultimately drive higher conversion rates. Remember, in the world of e-commerce, a picture is worth not just a thousand words but potentially a thousand sales.

[catboyaesthetic]

Ironsworn

The following story has been created with the use of the Solo RPG "Ironsworn." I'm still learning the system and it's equal parts unwieldy and intuitive. It's nonetheless a very rewarding system and a great way of digging into my own creativity. I would highly recommend it if you have the time to get to grips with it.

I've tinkered with it a little bit to fit a character from my own personal worldbuilding project into it, and as such, it's not as representative of the game as it might have been had I generated a character specifically inside the world. The reason for this was the fact that I thought it was cool to integrate my world with this one.

The Journey Begins

All has been set in motion. A week ago I was informed of my new post in a place called “the Ironlands” by the Volcaptain. The talk was short as they often are, but this felt almost cold and distant, where usually the curtness feels professional. To convey in as few words as possible is considered a virtue, but this involves Lena, and to hear the mission that involves her be spoken of so curtly rubs me wrong. It is how we always do things, but to know it’s about her feels different. The main post is to aid the Ironlands, of course. There’s been reports of something called “black iron” being mined there, and the higher-ups believed it’s a synonym for the Elder Mineral. I am to investigate these reports and otherwise present as good of an image of Sunspire as I can. I still find the position odd. To be diplomatic emissary, expeditionary force, assassin, courtier, foreign army and sword-for-hire all in the same person makes me feel as if I am to be a superhuman extension of the Merchant-Kings. But I’m just a man. I bleed. I laugh. I weep. I think tonight I’ll go on that trip down the Halls of Joy I’ve always promised myself. It might be the last time I can distract myself the fullest.

Aboard the Fortune’s Call

As I sail aboard the Fortune’s Call, the air is crisp and full of shouting. Wherever I turn, there is command. Authority, it seems, is infectious, especially aboard a ship this size. It feels like a floating fortress with how many cannons rest on either side, which seem unnecessarily high. The place called the aftcastle is true to its name with how vast the structure is. Decorated with vivid colour and intricate carvings in the shape of lionheads, suns and other ornate ornamentation, it seems every bit a wooden manor. We’re only short a green field to truly complete the picture. While I’m hardly considered to be an authority on taste, I find the whole picture rather gaudy. The man who captains this vessel is equally as colourful in his attire, his manner and his general demeanor. For all his flaws in taste, I do enjoy the man. If there is one benefit to being a Spiresworn, it’s the ability to outrank most everyone in the city. Subsequently, I am considered to be on not just equal, but higher ranked company to the captain. Though I do surrender to his authority on this vessel. Despite my experience, I haven’t the foggiest idea of how to run a ship, let alone run it well. Captain Perrenen has that well in hand, and I believe we have an understanding that I do not muddy his command by inserting myself and he subsequently does not ask questions he ought not to. Thus we spend our time together pleasantly and dedicated to conversation. He is an exceptional rhetorician and his mind is sharp as the saber he carries. On more than one occasion he has managed to stump me, wielding his arguments as deftly as I hope he wields that sword.

 

It didn’t take long for us to reach our first waypoint of the journey, a port called Heragon, I couldn’t make out a word of the language, but the people were pleasant and helpful. I got to try several delicacies which I believe Captain Perrenen later paid for – being more accustomed with the way things worked. I should have known, of course, that that was a swindle rather than a kindness, but the good captain had the decency to only laugh at me in private. I believe he is the only person whom I have ever enjoyed calling me a fool.

 

(Undertake a journey 4+3 vs. 9 and 3 – Weak Hit.)

We set sail again before long. In what I understand to be a stroke of good luck, the winds have favoured us thus far. I spend my nights with Captain Perrenen, discussing this and that, and somehow never quite running out of things to talk about. Despite myself, I find myself drawn to him, and whether it’s been weeks or months, the attraction only grows stronger. He doesn’t flatter me the way that I’m used to, no shallow compliments, no deference to rank. He talks to me like a person. He asks me about my ways of thinking, my interests. He treats me like a human being, not the arm of the Merchant-Kings.

I find I look forward to the evening discussions we have. To have him to myself for a while where I do not see Captain Perrenen, but only Hann. I say ‘only’ but he is only a captain. As a man, he is so much more. He loves the sound of the ship as it hits the waves, urian tea drawn from barab roots for exactly 5 minutes, something which makes the drink exceedingly bitter and which provides something of a comic contrast to his otherwise sweet disposition. He loves the sunrise, singing, and the sea. All sailors do, in their own way. Lately I find my arguments do not have their old sharpness as I focus on the wrinkles around his eyes from what is still a very short life spent laughing often and loudly. The sound of his voice as he calls my name and tries to draw me out of my musings. The way he looks at me with might be a knowing smile. I don’t know. The weeks soar by, the winds favour us, and we spend our evenings together. For a time, the world is small and peaceful.

 

(Undertake a journey: 5+3 vs 5 and 2 – Strong Hit.)

The seas are good to us. We make such good progress that somewhere, I feel a pang of regret that it will be over soon. The routine over the past few months has become so ingrained that I would almost feel like I’d be throwing part of me away when I have to step off this ship. It’s something I remind myself of often, especially as Hann and I sit and talk. We’ve gone far beyond battling wits the last few weeks. Perhaps it’s just me, but there is a weight to the conversations we have now, a tension. The way he laughs is different, but no less attractive and I’ve noticed that he looks at me differently. It’s only then that I realize I don’t know what goes on in that head of his, and I would desperately like to know. Sometimes he hides his mouth behind his hand as he listens to me, and I find myself hoping he’s smiling. I find myself feeling as if I were a prey in the eyes of the hawk. I feel he sees me in a way that I find thrilling. I also find myself skirting around certain topics or words because I am afraid they would not sit well with him, despite him never giving any indication of displeasure. In fact, he seems to be somewhat diminished every time I draw away from what might be something risqué. I think he’s hoping for the same thing I am. But what is it exactly that I’m hoping for? Outside of this room we are the same as always. He is Captain Perennen and I am Fyodor, a high-paying nobody for all intents and purposes, which allows me all the privileges wealth can afford aboard his ship – so long as it does not interfere with its functioning. But despite how small this ship is, I feel worlds apart from him. My mind churns and a need that will not be reasoned with rises with every evening he sits and looks at me like he wants the same thing. Or am I just seeing what I want to see? Am I so caught up in my own experience I forget the rest of the world? It wouldn’t be the first time. Lena often said I was prone to egotism, and despite my best efforts to rectify this, I can still get caught up in the whirlwind. There are so many things to dislike about him. As I try to remind myself of them to still the hunger, I find they’ve all disappeared. It would be cruel, I think to myself, to simply consume such a beautiful a man. To use him for my selfish purposes and discard him once we arrive. Soon we will be oceans apart again. Time will be kind to the memory but not the feeling. I would miss him. Worse yet, I fear that I would miss him more than he would miss me. I could write, but would I? I know myself, or at least I try to, and I have historically always been a evasive lover. Quick to action, slow to attach. It comes with the work, I think. I try not to think on it further.

 

(Undertake a journey 5+3 vs 5 and 1 – Strong Hit.)

My heart sinks as the news reaches us that our destination lies on the horizon. I didn’t think I still had it in me to dread. I glance to Hann as he stands on the balcony of his aftcastle, in every way the picture of the noble captain as he gazes towards the horizon. For the fifth time today, I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if he feels the same grief I do. I’m not sure why. Perhaps the adage that misery loves company is truer than I ever thought it to be. I remind myself that all I feel, I feel alone. I do not know what goes on in his head, and for all intents and purposes, his acceptance of my presence has been a calculated indulgence. But even as I remind myself, I find I do not want to believe it. I would rather believe the delusion – if indeed it is – and pine for a man in so many ways my better. You do not get many comforts in this line of work. Spiresworn are meant to be the bastions of the Merchant-Kings around the Known World. But even if each of us are built up to be castles of our own accord, we all rule alone. How thicker the walls and how vast the defenses, the lonelier it is.

Hann catches me staring. I do not have the decency to look away. Rather I take the opportunity to carve him into my memory. If it is not to be, I would like to remember him. To put this finely-honed mind to work remembering a man who was kind to a stranger, a father to his crew and the envy of the sun with the warmth and light he brought to the lives of those around him. I am pulled from my reverie by the sound of his voice, carrying a tone he’s never used with me before.

“Mister Koningszoon, if you’d care to join me in my quarters, I have something I’d like to discuss.” He dismisses his inner circle of officers, then turns and enters his quarters. He speaks to me as if I were a crewmen, with courteous authority – and the implicit expectation he is to be heeded. Something in me bristles at it, yet the largest part is awash with crackling anticipation. I keep my composure, my strides measured, and knock courteously on Hann’s door – The Captain’s door, I remind myself – to announce my arrival. I enter by his command, and the moment the door shuts behind me, Hann’s lips are on mine and his hands are grasping my face and the world melts away in the wake of his affection and the flush of warmth that rushes through me. I taste how hungry he really is, how desperate. How badly he wants to grasp me but even in this desperate heat of the moment, he remains soft and kind and considerate and I want to let him take all he wants as reward for his kindness. Whether he means to pull my hair or strip me or debase me in ways that tumble over each other in my head is irrelevant. For a moment I am his and he is mine and we are only Hann and Fyodor in a floating wooden fortress and barely hours until we are cruelly separated once again. As we continue to kiss and grab at each other, almost as if to confirm that the other is truly real and this is really happening, I let him lead me wherever he wants. We don’t need to speak. We know what we want. We’ve known for weeks – months – what it is we’ve wanted and only now have we found the courage to act.

The brief bout of pleasure and the eternity of joy we spend together after is too short. The beginning of the end comes by way of a simple crewman, relaying a message of our arrival. I try not to weep. Hann holds me, kisses my head and assures me that this won’t be the last time we’ll see each other. He promises to write me. I thank him, knowing I won’t. Knowing he truly is too good of a man for the likes of me.

Damula

As I travel in a vessel vastly underwhelming after months on the Fortune’s Call, I am informed by my ferrywoman the place we’re heading toward is called Damula. A strange name, that even seems to sound wrong out of my ferrywoman’s mouth. Still, the sound of it seems to somehow fit the accent she has. The word itself is thick with history. I find it hard to concentrate as I look back towards the dot on the horizon that has been all the world for the past few months, captained by what had been my home until today. I ask the Ferrywoman what Damula means.

(6+3 Wits vs. 8 and 9 = Weak Hit.)

The ferrywoman thinks on it for a moment, seeming unsure herself. She then tells me it was a word from “those who came before.” Who or what they were or where they come from remains a mystery, and I think I have already overstayed my ferrywoman’s patience with my questions. My own patience is running thin also, and so I overlook the landscape that is steadily drawing closer.

Despite the withered landscape, it has a beautiful quality to it. It seems as if time has passed this place by. The trees that might have once grown here have been cut down and usurped into the buildings of Damula, and it seems they have neglected to plant new ones. Yet somehow, it has enhanced the landscape, not made it worse. I dread to think on the ecosystem, however. What do they burn to keep warm? Do they keep warm? This wind chills me to the soul and the gray skies that always threaten rain make the season difficult to distinguish.

I’ve already paid the ferrywoman whom I have neglected to ask her name. She didn’t seem the talkative type to begin with, but now that we’ve begun I feel compelled to do so. She tells me her name is Makari. When I ask for her last name, she looks at me like I’ve asked her what colour the water is. It seems these are in short supply. In hopes of not drawing attention to myself – something I have already radically failed at – I tell her my name is Fyodor. She finds the name strange, yet tells me it has a certain melodic quality to it. An observation I find ill-fitting of a ferrywoman, yet nonetheless flattering and indicative of an interest and mind I did not think to find within this ferrywoman. Which itself is a sentiment I find myself somewhat embarrassed of. In hopes of distracting myself from it, I put on my best smile and ask her if she enjoys music. She nods as she adjusts the sails and seems to think on it for a moment. Weighing some unknown thought, she shakes her head and simply looks out across the water once more, the conversation and her interest slipping through my fingers. Despite myself, I find myself all the more eager to pursue her attention. I weigh the likelihood of my chances of her interest and find myself humbled by her stoic interest in the journey. I find myself somewhat forlorn, the rejection like a knife between my ribs. But we are strangers, ultimately. And she is a competent sailor. I find myself thinking on what it would be like to be the sole focus of that magnificent attention. For a moment, I am warm.

I part from Makari with a curt goodbye. Vainly I wonder if she will miss me. I will certain miss her. The sight of her arms bending the ship to her will, the way she gazed across the waves and seemed to be able to take stock of a person with but a glance. There is a hardness and an honesty to her. I look back at her, and to my surprise I find her looking back at me as well. I can’t quite tell, but it almost seems like she smiles for a moment. Then she’s gone again, likely never to be seen and I am, as always, alone.

Naturally, I look for the closest thing resembling a tavern.

(3+3 Wits vs. 6 and 10 = Weak Hit.)

When I approach a stranger in hopes of information, I am met with one of the coldest glares I’ve seen to date. I greet the woman and she leers at me as if to let me out of her sight means I’d rob her blind. “Good day to you and yours, friend,” I begin, and despite her obvious suspicion, she seems to relax a little. “To you as well,” she replies, looking me over with a gaze I’d much prefer held more interest than the current weighing it did. Her arms are broad, her brown hair is short and her eyes are a dark green one could get lost in, as I find myself doing before I catch myself and continue. “Would you happen to know if there is a watering hole nearby?” She looks at me like Makari did, as if I’d just ask what the colour of water is. “No,” she replies curtly. I can feel her judge me to be a fool and in the process of be forgotten. While I would usually prefer it that way, I find myself compelled to correct the notion. “Ah, perhaps I was too broad in my description. I meant to ask for a place where one might find a drink.”

The woman looks up and the realization as to my earlier meaning seems to dawn on her. “Ahh, you mean like Kendi’s Rest? Sure there is.” Her brief moment of helpfulness is swiftly interrupted by her earlier measurement of me. “Typically only locals visit Kendi’s Rest. We don’t get many visitors here.” There is suspicion in her gaze and in her voice.

(Secure an advantage, 2+3 vs 8 and 7 = Miss.)

Something compels to engage with the adage that honesty is the best policy. “Well, it’s true enough that I am a stranger to these parts, and it’s not without reason I’ve come to this place.” I barely catch myself from insulting this place, the words “shithole” and “pit” presenting themselves long before “place” ever does. “I’ve come looking for someone, and while I’m relatively certain there’s no trail of her here, I figured I have to start asking questions somewhere.”

The stranger regards me with even more suspicion, and gradually rises up from her work. She seems to loosen herself up somewhat, and I can take a guess as to what. However, the need for it seems unwarranted, and I am more than a little confused as towards the display of naked preparation for hostilities. I raise my hands defensively, more than able to read the room. “Listen, I mean no harm to you or anyone here, nor do I want to imply that you’re the ones responsible. I simply want to know where my friend is.”

“Something tells me I don’t like you. A stranger come from who knows where asking questions about who knows who. I don’t know who your friend is, and I don’t know why you’ve come looking for her, but I think you oughta leave to somewhere better for your health.” The woman growls, having drawn herself up to her full height. She is lean from hard work, broad with muscle. I don’t think she takes well to being threatened. But I don’t have time for this, harangued by the second person I run into in this shithole of a village, searching for a drink, heartbroken and months away from civilization. The mask of the aloof fool drops and I take a step forward to loom over her. Something twitches to life in my chest and my eyes sear with the knowledge of countless battles. The sight of lives I have taken made adds weight to my gaze. I level it upon her and let the vast shadow of my sins cast over her. I am the monster once again. “I think this place suits me just fine.” I speak with a tone as sharp as a knife’s edge. “I also think we should go about our respective business,” I continue, adding with as much venom as I can muster “for your health.”

(Compel, 2+4 Iron vs 3 and 4. – Strong Hit)

She withers underneath my gaze, shrinking away from me. I see the shame in her face from buckling. She tries to catch herself but she knows the game is up. For a moment, she seems a girl in pants far too large for her. “Maybe that’s for the best,” she replies in a voice that has lost all of its confidence. I let the monster slip off of me and once more, I am the pleasant, forgettable everyman. As she turns around to return to her work, I feel a sting of regret. Perhaps I should have tried to talk to her differently. But how? I don’t know what these people are like. I barely got here and already I’ve almost gotten myself into a fight.

 

I head towards the gathering place of this town, Kendi’s Rest. As I step inside, the heads of six patrons turn to look at me. They seem to collectively realise that I am not a resident of the town, and as such, they stare. It seems I have my work cut out for me not to stand out. Despite the earlier failure, I put on my best smile and greet the scowling faces which refuse to stop staring at me. “Greetings, all!” I begin, my voice thunderous from experience commanding troops, in hopes of easing their hostility. From my earlier encounter I think to myself that they might appreciate bluntness. “I suppose I’ll not dally or taint your day further with endless pleasantry and get straight to the point. Has anyone here happened to have heard of a woman called “Lena?””

( Compel 5+3 Heart vs 7 and 3. – Strong Hit! )

There is some grumbling and murmuring, but finally one person speaks up. “Aye!” He says with a voice that would make the rocks envious with how rough it is, “I’ve heard of a Lena!” I look at him, realizing he’s the first man I’ve seen on this island and quickly make my way over, smiling still but reading his face to see if he’s lying.

( Gather information, 2+3 Wits vs. 9 and 2. – Weak Hit. )

For all I can see, the man is perfectly sincere. I sit down beside him and try to keep my smile as natural and relaxed as I am. Within, my heart is pounding away at my chest. Surely it can’t be this easy? The third person I talk to, and I’ve got a lead?

“A fine woman she was! I remember the way she used to scold me for slacking on my duties.” The man lets out a chuckle, a sound like rocks scraping against one another, and I realise the man is quite up there in years already. The fire from the torches occasionally darken the grooves within the man’s face, worn by time. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head. “It’s a shame she passed away. But that’s the way of things.”

My heart sinks and in my shock, I forget to wear the mask of emotion. “She’s dead?” I ask the man. He looks at me like the other two have before him, like I asked what the colour of water is. “Well, yeah, man! Do you expect us to live forever? She was quite up there in years already.”

Again, my shock overtakes me, this time with a frown. “Wait, what do you mean she was up there in years already?” Now it’s the man’s turn to scowl. “Like I said, man! Are you slow? She was old! Quite old, in fact. Ancient by anyone’s reckoning! We used to joke she might outlive us all! Bahaha!’

Despite the sound of his laughter akin to an avalanche filling the drinking hovel, I feel a warm sense of relief fill my stomach. A feeling quickly replaced by frustration. While I’m happy to hear she’s not dead, I’m back to nothing after thinking I found myself a lead. I put on the smile once more and thank the man, saying that I don’t think we’re looking for the same person.

“Oh? Well, good luck to you, then. Oh, and uh… spare a kindness for an old man?” He asks with a mischievous grin, holding up his empty tankard. I ponder for a moment, before I pull out my pockets and show that I don’t even have a cog to my name. “Hah! Maybe I should offer you a kindness, eh?” The man laughs, and where I briefly expect him to offer some kind of alms, he merely gives me more laughter. Then he realizes I’m still there and gestures with his tankard for me to leave. “Go on, off you fuck.” He says, without losing any of his pleasant demeanor, and with a mixture of shock and admiration, I do just that.

I head towards what passes for a bar and hail the person behind it – a woman, who seem to be more ubiquitous than men so far. She heads over and gives me a curt nod. Before she can ask me for my order, I tell her I don’t have anything to pay with. She sets her hands on the bar, leans forward, curls up her upper lip in contempt and asks: “Then what are you doing here, stranger?” I tell her I’m looking for information on a woman named Lena. “Never heard of her,” she replies, and makes to leave.

“Then what news is there? Surely there must be something keeping you busy around these parts?” I quickly ask before she turns around fully. She seems to be anything but eager to talk to me.

( Compel, 3+3 Heart vs 1 and 7 – Weak Hit. )

I put on my best smile and decide to engage in a bit of flattery. “Surely this place is where all the important people gather. And a woman like you seems like she knows the value of information.” I tell her. It seems to evoke little other than the raise of an eyebrow, but at the very least, she seems curious. “I do,” she replies curtly, “well enough to know that I don’t simply give it out for free. Especially not to every passing stranger that enters my tavern.”

I put two and two together. “You must be Kendi then,” I ask, to which she performs a mock curtsy with nonetheless perfect form. She must have practiced that quite a bit. “The very same. Now, you know who I am and seem to be the observant sort. But I’m not in the business of wondering, I’m in the business of knowing.” She throws her drying cloth over her shoulder and sets her hands on her hips before jerking her head up expectantly and looking me over. “What’s your name?” She asks, expecting to be answered. I oblige. “Fyodor,” I swallow the urge to say my last name, I’ve stood out enough already and the custom of last names seems to be unfortunately absent. “Well, Fyodor,” Kendi begins, “I could tell you what occupies this beautiful town of ours, but I’d like to ask you a few things first.”

At her mercy, I throw up my hands before opening them before her. “Whatever you’d like to know,” I tell her. She narrows her eyes for a moment and she wastes no time. “Where are you from, Fyodor?” “Sunspire,” I answer truthfully. Kendi shrugs, “Never heard of it. Though that does makes you an outlander.” She notes. I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?” “No,” she answers, continuing on. “What are you doing in Damula?” Now it’s my turn to shrug. “Like I said, I’m looking for a woman called Lena.” Kendi’s interest is visibly piqued. “What is she to you?” A flood of images and feelings wash over me, but no words come until heartbeats later. “Someone I could not stand to lose.” I answer, surprised by my own obfuscation. Kendi shakes her head, looking me in the eye while I briefly drown in remembering. “No no, you don’t get off that easy. What is she to you? Family? Friend? A loved one?” “All that and more,” I reply without missing a beat. The mask of pleasantness is gone. I look at her with all the desperation that I hold within and it seems to strike a chord with her. Kendi’s expression softens somewhat, and the questions cease. For a heartbeat I think I spy a glimmer of respect in her gaze before she carries on cleaning. After a while, she begins to speak unprompted. She seems a little tense as she does so, and much to my surprise after her earlier demeanor, she drops her volume.

“News around here is always slow. But lately people around here can’t seem to stop worrying about the dead.” “The dead?” I ask incredulously before I can help myself, and Kendi gives me a scathing look that tells me I spoke too loudly. “Yes, Fyodor. The dead.” Her eyes grow distant as she tries to focus on cleaning this one particular tankard rather intensely. “Everybody wants to be the one that solves the problem, as that would ensure you spend the rest of your life living luxuriously wherever you go.” I tap a finger on the sad excuse for a bar as I think. “Why?” I wonder aloud, and Kendi looks at me like everyone before her has; like I asked what the colour of water is. It seems to be becoming something of a tradition. “Because,” Kendi begins with a tone that makes it clear it is the most obvious thing in the world, “the Dead have been restless for years now and no one knows why. They’ve been assaulting this town every night for weeks.” She looks at me for a long while in silence before realizing. “You don’t know, do you? They don’t just walk again, they are organized. They are coming, Fyodor. Every night, they come.”

Despite my proximity to the hearth which crackles comfortingly beside me, a chill goes through me. Yet another peril to add to the list amidst hostile but strangely helpful Ironlanders, now the Innumerable seem to have reached even here. I nod my head upwards towards Kendi, “Have you heard of the Innumerable?” I ask. Kendi raises an eyebrow, but shakes her head. “Why, who are they?” I ponder for a moment whether to tell her, but decide for it seeing how free she has been with her information. “The Innumerable,” I begin after leaning in conspiratorially, “are known as the Heirs of the Ashes and are effectively the nation of the dead.” Kendi lets out a skeptical puff of air and I beckon her back over. “No, no, I’m serious. Wherever there are bodies in the ground, they claim dominion.” “So they’d consider this place theirs as well?” Kendi asks. I throw up my hands as if to indicate it’s out of my hands, and nod. Kendi lets out a sharp laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. What, so the dead have a nation, with a king and everything? And cities?” She seems genuinely curious before a grin slowly spread across her lips that suits her particularly well. “Come off it, you’re pulling my leg.” I scowl and shake my head. Kendi’s grin drops. “I told you, I’m serious. I don’t know how they’re organized exactly, I do know that—” I catch myself before I reach into information which is privy only to a handful of people even within Sunspire. Kendi looks at me expectantly, raising her eyebrows as if to indicate “go on.” Then, after realizing I was not going to continue, lets out a ‘tch’ and shakes her head. “Anyway, that’s what’s occupying people at the moment. Staying alive.”

I continue to tap my finger on the bar as I mull over the information. Technically all the dead are part of the Innumerable. But it may very well be that this… outbreak? That it might have nothing to do with them. The unfortunate part of having to deal with a nation of the dead is that not everything can be seen as a formal action by a nation as living agents would undertake them. The application of magicae to purposes of reanimation does not necessarily make that corpse part of the Innumerable. Yet by virtue of being dead, it is. I hope we have rhetoricians or diplomats better suited to distinguishing between formal actions of the Innumerable and deciding what is the actions of a brainless bag of bones.

Still, the problem remains. The dead are assaulting the Damula every night. Are they driven by instinct or do they have some kind of leadership guiding them? These questions are redundant. What matters is that I promised to help this place where I could to the Merchant-Kings. And these people need help.

“Alright,” I say aloud, nodding. “

( Swear an Iron Vow, 4+3 Heart vs 8 and 10. )

I look at Kendri, who looks back at me with a certain suspicion. My voice is clear and grave as I speak “I promise to help safeguard Damula from the onslaught of the Dead in the name of the Merchant-Kings. This I vow.”

“With what?” Kendri asks drily, made all the more chafing in the wake of my grave declaration. She looks me over once again and grins. “Last I saw, you didn’t have any weapons or armour. You don’t have a scrap to your name, and for all I know, you’re a bumpkin blowhard. What are you gonna do? Talk the dead to death? Oh wait.”

Some of the patrons chuckle at her joke, and I find myself somewhat embarrassed. But she’s right. As capable as I am, I’d do much more damage with a weapon than without. Before I can properly fulfill my vow, I should fix that. I thank Kendri for the information and the company, and she replies she feels the same with a surprising amount of warmth. Before I can do anything of note I should find the tools with which to deal with this harsh lands. Whether axe or sword or mace, I need something more to defend myself than just wit and wiles. I step out of the warmth of the tavern and back into the cold gray of Damula.

[daybreakrising]

SENSES AND OTHER SPECIFIC HCs. // GOROU.

what  does  your  muse  smell  like  ?

fresh air and earth. the tang of sweat and something akin to damp dog. he smells of the outdoors, of steel and leather, with a crispness that calls forth images of the sea. there's also a sweetness to him, something that might bring to mind memories of delicious pastries and sugary treats.

what  do  your  muse’s  hands  feel  like ?

rough, and strong. they are the hands of a soldier, calloused and hardened by years of wielding weapons and vigorous training, but they are also the hands of an explorer, made strong through exposure to the often unforgiving landscape. but strong hands can be soft and kind with their touch, and there is a warmth to his skin that is as natural as the world that carved them.

what  does  your  muse  usually  eat  in  a  day ?

his meals are usually the rations of soldiers in the midst of battle, but he always makes sure his diet is balanced to maintain his strength and his health. he cannot let down his soldiers and his companions by failing to eat properly. he can't afford to be weak. when possible, however, he does like to indulge in something sweet - cakes, pastries, and the like, are his weakness.

does  your  muse  have  a  good  singing  voice ?

it's fair enough, though he only puts it into practice when singing morale-boosting songs around a campfire with his soldiers.

does  your  muse  have  any  bad  habits  or  nervous  ticks  ?

his ears and tail are incredibly expressive and often give away what he's feeling. when nervous, his ears will twitch intermittently and his tail tends to get rigid or tense. as far as bad habits go, his biggest one is letting things go to his head (particularly in the heat of battle) and needing someone to rein him in a little.

what  does  your  muse  usually  look  like/wear  ?

he's usually always garbed in his standard soldier attire - small, few pieces of armour over soft, loose clothing to enable ease of movement. he's fairly well kept together, mostly out of a desire to present a good image for his soldiers, his superior/s, and to the world as a whole. his fur can get a little scruffy and dull at times, usually when he's in a position where he's unable to care for it properly, but he makes an effort to look his best when he can.

is  your  muse  affectionate  ?  How  so  ?

incredibly so. he loves to touch and be touched, finds comfort in the physical connection with another person. he's a tactile person, and will be satisfied with even the smallest of gestures - sitting close enough to feel the other's body heat, for example, or the brush of a hand bumping against his as they walk. he loves to praise those he cares for, loves to make them smile and laugh and feel good about themselves. sharing treats is one of many ways he shows his affection.

what  position  does  your  muse  sleep  in  ?

curled up tight around his tail, often with his face buried into the fur. this is his natural position, especially when sleeping alone, but if he's sharing the space with others he tries to fall asleep in a more "normal" position. he inevitably fails, as he'll wake up in a tight ball, tail tucked securely around himself, regardless of how he goes to bed.

could  you  hear  your  muse  in  the  hallway  from  another  room  ?

though he does have a light step due to years of military training, he doesn't always tread lightly when he doesn't need to. in fact, he sometimes makes an effort not to unintentionally sneak up on others, aware that this could cause issues from a startled reaction. if he's particularly excited (or irritated) you can definitely hear him coming.