#soviets art shit

[s0viet-gamer]

Me when I give my blorbos a pencil

Guess who's an artist

All artists friends and foes !!

Draw your oc as if they had drawn themselves!!

[120daysofsodomm]

loneliness and emptiness

[weeweeweeeeeee]

Scene redraw inspired by one of @julienbakerstreet colors gifsets!

[s0viet-gamer]

using this as an excuse to post some fanart I did of the whole band a while back

someone draw kitty for me...it can be stick figure even...

[dekulakization]

Hey hey hey, countryhumans nation!

My ass has been hyperfixated on space recently, so naturally, I had to draw source me doing something space related.

Now, what the fuck could source me be doing that's space related?

And then it hit me. The space race. So I present to you: this redraw of a space race propaganda poster.

[vilochkaaa]

guys, you have no idea HOW MUCH i love him😫

[polimollykari]

[daldraws]

I wanted to start this blog for channelling my negative energy into something creative. I assume a lot of people feel this way. Like they are all alone and wasting their youth at home doing nothing. I hope to transform these feelings into something that I and maybe others will enjoy. 

Living in post soviet country is not helping feeling happy either. Like all the buildings look so depressing, you earn shit money, and the politics just make you want to move. I am kind of ranting here. I guess that’s what this is for. Rant and some creativity once in a while.

[s0viet-gamer]

intentionally fucked up jimmy drawing I did today

really pleased w how this turned out expect similar in the future

[inbabylontheywept]

Soviet Birds.

The secret facility that I work in has holes in the ceiling. We don't know how to get them fixed.

We tried asking the government to fix it, once. We told them that the holes in the older parts of the facility had gotten large enough to fit birds through, and that birds were getting through, and that, perhaps, a Soviet Spy could fit through as well.

After all, it is well known that Soviet Spies and pigeons are approximately the same diameter.

Our hope was that that this vague and nonsensical threat would put a little fire under Uncle Sam's feet. If the fed couldn't be bothered to give a shit about the giant gaping holes in the roof of our facility, perhaps they could be persuaded to give a shit about... Soviet Spies.

This attempt at manipulation 100% blew up in our faces.

See, the government does not need to be persuaded to give a shit about Soviet Spies. It still wakes up most nights, drenched in cold sweat, terrified and confident that a Soviet Spy is hiding in their nightstand. If it sees a rock on the ground, it flips it over, pistol drawn, ready to shoot the Soviet Spy it fully expects to slither out from underneath. Which is to say: The government is crazy. So when we dropped those two words - inflitration risk - in the repair request, they came in guns-a-blazin'.

Does that mean that they fixed the roof? Of course not. Don't be stupid. No, instead of performing basic maintenance, they installed a state of the art alarm system throughout the facility - lasers, sonar, the works - and told us to always be on the guard. Because of the roof holes.

Then they left.

So now we had an extremely good alarm system... and birds. Which have combined in incredibly obvious and predictable ways to produce an unending fountain of problems.

For Example: About once a month, someone gets called in by the local airforce dispatch because AAAAAAAAAAA a Spy is in the Rad Lab! We're all gonna die! Except every time, it's a bird. And I get why we have to check, but every time, the dispatcher is panicked and the person going out has to be like listen, listen: It's a bird. It's always a bird. It's been a bird every month for the last fifteen years. It will be a bird next month. All this stress? Bad for your heart.

Second Example: Sometimes, birds get in while we're actually working. And when it's in the morning, you know, it's a nuisance, and it stops testing (we are not going to risk irradiating a bird) but it's not an all-hands-on-deck situation because it doesn't take ten hours to get a bird out. But surprisingly often, the bird gets in riiiiight at closing time, and in that situation, everyone goes feral because nobody can leave until the alarm is set, and we cannot set the alarm while the bird is there, because the bird would immediately trigger it and then we'd have to stay another 4 hours to confirm that it was not a Soviet Bird.

So in order to go home, everyone's top priority is Get That Bird. And we have a system for it.

Step 1: The test stands tend to be located in rooms with 30+ foot ceilings. We can't catch birds in places like that - so we have to lure the bird into the relatively low ceilinged (8 feet only) upper offices.

We do this by turning all the lights off in the test rooms, then putting floodlights by the exits. I don't know why this works - some kind of evolutionary brain fragment shared by both Bugs and Birds - but work it does. The birds almost always follow after the lights. From there, it’s just two guys moving the floodlight and a third guy to turn off the lights.

Step 2: Everyone else has been waiting for this step. There is this long stairway up from the basement level into the offices, and in the final stage, the floodlights are brought to the base of the stairwell to bring the bird up. At the top of the steps there will be a group of tennish people, waiting for the signal. The light guys will set up the final transfer, everyone will tense, and then, swish...a bird will flit up the stairs and into the offices.

It's like watching werewolves on a full moon. Before the bird cometh, we are engineers. Nerds. Pale and skinny things, trembling under the fluorescent lights. After the bird, we are beasts. Feral, gnawing things, glowing under the orange sunrise of the 70's halogen floodlights.

And like all beasts, we cannot help but give chase.

Step 3: The were-engineers begin the hunt. The goal at the start is not really to catch the bird - just exhaust it. So the pack simply does not relent. Because the stakes are going home on time, the group is basically given free reign to go anywhere in the building. If someone's door is open, and the bird goes inside, they're going to have to deal with ten sweaty panting maniacs leaping around their office. They don't get to say that they're busy, or remark on how all this movement is a terrible distraction. They are allowed to sit in silence during the chaos, and perhaps thank the war party for chasing the bird while they sat comfortably on their ass. This has been explained several times, and it will continue to be explained until cooperation is achieved.

Anyway.

The chase can go on for quite some time. Sometimes, the bird will get tired and find a crevice to hide in, where it can then be reached through standard cornered-bird catching techniques.

Other times, it will slow down enough that someone can actually yoink it out of the air. But this will go on until someone catches the bird and triggers Step 4.

Step 4: The Finale. This is the get-the-bird-out-of-the-building stage, and it requires someone to adopt a specific role: To Become the Sacrificial Vessel of Bird Removal.

This job is both coveted and feared. It's coveted, because holding a wild bird in one's hands is a precious thing. To feel how small, and fragile, and scared it is, only to free it from the building? That is what it's like to be a benevolent God. But the cost! Oh, the cost. The entire time the Vessel is in motion, the bird will be biting the hell out of their fingers. And I cannot emphasize enough just how painful bird bites are. Their entire face is a set of needle posed pliers, and they know tricks the even the cartels haven't figured out yet. So there's always a little hubbub about who shall be The Vessel while onlookers, stranded outside The Office of Bird Capture, can only look on. Quiet arguments and pleas are heard, little fragments of fear and pride and glory trickling out of room like the silver dust left behind in a bag of well shook quarters. The sound of concensus is silence, and the argument will go on until that's all that's left. And then, from the darkness of the final office, the chosen sacrifice will step forward: Hands gently cupped, tears streaming down their face, fingers trembling from the pain of the ongoing bird chomps.

And this scene is what organizes people. Not leadership, not truly. No one can think and coordinate a crowd while their fingers are being attacked with a combination nutcracker/ear piercer. But the crowd sees the suffering of their annointed, and it is driven to do everything poossible to make the process flow. People instinctively flair out, finding the fastest path outside. Doors are held open. Paths are cleared. Someone, somehow, always knows the way forward and can describe it to the sufferer. Left, left, forward. Corner closet. Yep, there's a hall in there. Forward. Two-hundred more feet man, you're doing great. Just hold it together a little longer. You're killing it.

Then the final door swings open, and the bird flees out into what remains of daylight. And yet, even here, the deed is not yet done. I cannot explain it in words, but the crowd that helped is never content until they can see and speak on the Bird Vessel's wounds. They all have to pull the fingers back and see what was given. Estimate the price: One day to get better - No, three - No, a week! Are you blind? Do you see that blood blister? -Yeah, that's not going away anytime soon - Damn, can you believe how feisty those things are? Like wolves without teeth.

(They cannot help but touch as they go. It has always been this way. Even Thomas was not content until he felt the wounds in Christ's hands.)

Only when the last of the helpers has seen, and commented, and commended, will the engineers scatter. It is their return from the underworld that announces to the sun living surface dwellers that they too can go home. (@somerunner tolja it needed to be a post.)

[olderthannetfic]

You ever get a comment that makes you just sit back, cast your eyes upwards, and gaze at the ceiling as if awaiting answers? I got a comment on a fic I'm writing that has a (canonically) punk character and was informed that "real punks don't do arts and crafts", referring to the idea of 1. making your own patches 2. sewing them on 3. sewing clothes in general and 4. making signs in protest of/support of something. And I. I just.

My dad was in a punk band in the 90's, in the post-Soviet era of Central Asian punks when nobody had any money and were screaming into a microphone to work through the trauma the USSR put them through. Sometimes there wasn't even a microphone. Sometimes there was just a stage at a bar and decent acoustics and vodka. I promise you that they made things. I promise you they didn't just buy everything off of Poshmark that was marked Tripp NYC or put an order in on Temu for 5 yards of grommet trim. There was no internet access but more importantly there was no money. You know what there WAS? Anger. So. Much. Anger. Anger gets clothing torn and signs made and my dad onstage in a country where being queer is illegal to this day going, "We're the Maddest Faggots and this is our new song, 'Fuck Me Like Your Daughter'!"

They did "arts and crafts". They did so, so many arts and crafts. Shows don't advertise themselves. Someone has to draw and then photocopy a cartoon of the mayor sucking himself off and tape it up to every bus stop in Tashkent after the election. Drenching yourself in red paint and marching in protest of police brutality rarely works without paint.

I guess, in the grand tradition of punk, the counterargument is that no REAL punk would do arts and crafts, therefore, my dad was not remotely punk and neither were his associates. But if punk is so fragile that liking all the right music and being anti-authority and protesting inequality all counts for nothing if you so much as put one toe over the line into girliness... is anyone or anything punk? And is that a version of punk worth preserving?

It reminds me of people going, "Real punks don't have anything political on their vests/jackets!" and "No true punk would have that slogan on them, that's just stupid pinterest shit!" and "wow plaid lol. lmao, even. what a poser! go back to tiktok fr fr", etc. I get that these are all basically 'if I don't like it, it's not part of punk'. But diy is baked into punk. It had to be. That's what happens when your subculture involves a lot of poor people.

I am only 25 and I feel like an ancient being from the bygone days of yesteryear having kids interrupt me to say nuh-uh, that's totally not how things work.

--

People are incredibly embarrassing about punk in a very suburban US middle class way.

[thesilliestpotato]

When I was 6-8 yo I went to the art school, where Leo Tokmakov was a teacher. He was a Soviet children's book illustrator and his wife was a children's poetry writer. The classes didn't do shit for me and I can't draw, but how cool these illustrations are!!!

and my personal favourite

[genderblentbeeper]

HOLY SHIT

Okay one more thing before I go to bed. Russian Empire design reveal :)

[averagestrayrat]

Heyyy do you have a favourite soviet holmes episode? Or a favourite scene?

Look I've been thinking of what to answer but it's too hard to choose just one because they're all gold and I could talk for hours about each of them, so let me make a list and I promise I'll ATTEMPT not to make it too long.

The beginning of the first episode is undoubtedly among my favourite parts of any adaptation EVER. I love how weird out Watson is, the poor guy thinks he moved in with a master criminal and fears for his life, while Holmes is just trolling him. Top tier introduction.

Every single time that Watson attempts to go incognito and ends up looking extremely suspicious and/or getting recognised.

These two moments, for obvious reasons:

Mrs Hudson in general, but specifically when she wakes up to smell of smoke (because Moriarty's men set fire to the apartment) and she just steps over Watson's body as he coughs on the ground, throws water on the burning furniture, and goes back to sleep. Iconic behaviour.

Speaking of which, this Moriarty gives me the chill. Excellent performance.

The whole King of Blackmail (CHAR is possibly my favourite story from the canon, if it's possible to choose just one). I love how BAD they are at being criminals.

Henry Baskerville is so silly, I love that guy and his big canadian fur. The scene where he and Watson are drunk and they're talking about his crush (who is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen in my entire life holy shit) is so joyfully boyish.

Hug because friend is here.

Holmes' sarcasm and every time he trolls Watson, just to laugh hysterically when he can't keep it up anymore.

My goal in life is to be this cool:

Not strictly about Soviet Holmes but I find that Russian media have this... very Victorian quality, often. This is an ignorant observation from someone who doesn't know much about Russian cinema/art/literature (though I'd like to) but this is the impression I got. I'm not sure what this quality is, because it's a vibe I get more than a specific connection in themes or aesthetic.

To be honest I could keep going but I wouldn't want to make this too long and bore you. These are surely some top scenes/details for me.

Well, what are YOUR favourite scenes/episodes/things about it? And thanks for the ask!

[polysucks]

-puts a mirror under your nose to check ur breathing-

hey man it's been a while since you've talked about harrenhal

You know what? you're fucking right. I don't talk much about my obsession with harrenhal on my tumblr. i should do that more often.

[dreamily]

If I could marry Harrenhal I would. Harrenhal’s story is literally just hubris and the inevitable decay of overreaching ambition—fables that we see told time and time again in real-world history. There is nothing the Geyrg writes that isn't derivative of other art before his. but soooooo many rulers, empires, and civilizations have undertaken whack ass projects meant to immortalize their power, only to see their visions trickle down their legs like a wet fart

We got the tower of babel

Which like-- man I don't know shit about the bible and I will preface anything I say that is anywhere NEAR adjacent to religion with that. but. If there is one thing I do know, it's human arrogance in fiction.

it was meant to be a monument to human greatness, defying natural order and even divine power. (womp womp)

It was never completed NOR served its intended purpose, as divine intervention (ayo brynden rivers wasgood) ensured its failure.

Just as Harrenhal became an empty ruin, Babel became a symbol of the dangers of overreaching ambition by desecrating [the] god[s]

Ozymandias (ramses II)

Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem Ozymandias describes a ruined statue of a long-dead king whose mighty empire has vanished into dust.

Like Harrenhal, Ozymandias’ works were meant to last forever, but time, war, and decay ensured their ruin.

'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!' fucks so hard and reads as if Harren the Black was gloating himself from the Tower of Dread. what was supposed to be a symbol of unbreakable power instead became an empty, cursed shell that barely resembles what it used to be.

Both remind us that nothing built by mortal hands can really challenge the devastation time and what may come of fate.

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Versaille

King Louis XIV of France built the Palace of Versailles as a symbol of absolute monarchy and divine rule. have i ever mentioned that I love monarchy history?

It was [is?] extravagantly expensive, draining the kingdom’s resources—just as Harrenhal’s construction bled the Riverlands dry. evil rulers gonna be evil i GUESS

Its grandeur could not protect its rulers. By the time of the French Revolution, the monarchy that built it was toppled and executed (bring back the guillotine) much like House Hoare’s yeeting at the maw of Balerion the Black Dread.

Like Harrenhal, Versailles became a symbol of excess and very few people coould hold it successfully (everyone died)

and my absolute FAVORITE.

harrenhal. but it's actually Chernobyl.

HEAR ME OUT.

Harrenhal: Built to be the grandest castle in Westeros, a testament to Harren the Booty's dominion over the Riverlands!!!

Chernobyl: Constructed as part of the Soviet Union’s ambitious nuclear energy program, Chernobyl was meant to be a symbol of Soviet technological superiority.

Harrenhal’s Doom: The castle was still newly built when Aegon the Conqueror came with his baddies in tow and turned it into a Spicy Meatball. Harrenhal was designed to withstand any land-based siege, but it never stood a chance against dragonfire. BECAUSE HE DIDN'T THINK TO BUILD FOR DRAGONFIRE.

Chernobyl’s Doom: The Chernobyl Reactor 4 explosion in 1986 was a firestorm that could not be contained, much like Balerion’s flames. The reactor burned for days, spewing deadly radiation into the air. BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT RADIATION POISONING.

Harrenhal's fate: Since Harren’s yeeting, every single House that has claimed Harrenhal has met disaster. The castle is believed to be cursed (it is) its halls filled with ghosts (it is), and no one has held it for long. The only smart thing petyr has ever done is refuse to stake claim over his hold. he should tho. he totally should.

Chernobyl's fate: The area around the ruined reactor became the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, where radiation levels are still dangerous and will CONTINUE to be dangerous. Most of the surrounding towns, including Pripyat, remain abandoned, decayed, and overgrown, much like Harrenhal.

Both places have survivors and witnesses who tell and retell haunting tales and rumors and legends—Harrenhal’s curse manifests in tragedy after tragedy, while Chernobyl’s “curse” is literal: those who stayed too long suffered from radiation sickness.

and finally:

both are fucked up horror stories in themselves

Harrenhal:

There are rumors of ghosts—Lady Shella Whent’s weeping specter, the burned souls of Harren and his sons, and wait! There's more! If you call now--

The castle’s YUGE size and GAPING corridors (like ur mom) create an oppressive presence that can be felt all over the Riverlands

No matter who holds it, death follows. (im sorry i have said this so much but it's so fuckin metal)

Chernobyl in Popular Culture:

The real-life horror of radiation poisoning is alarming enough, but Chernobyl has become a breeding ground for horror films, video games, and urban legends. (no one talks about how Tarkovsky's Stalker in 1979 p much predicted the event but ALRIGHT)

There are true stories of mutated animals, less true stories of ghosts of workers, and really real eerie abandoned homes and workplaces that are literally disastrous to the earth's health.

The “Elephant’s Foot,” the mass of nuclear lava inside Reactor 4, is lethal to anyone who stands near it. That shit is so metal. Again. Sorry.

[masterofgoose]

AAAAAAAAAA

MOUSECLICK - [4] - Beware of Eli

dont even know what this one is i just had a dream of this joke and thought why not draw is with Eli in it

MOUSECLICK - [4]

MOUSECLICK: a webcomic sieries abotu 4 friends, depression, and soviet missiles powered by banana milk cause tf why not man....

Felix: 16, computer nerd, likes video games, animation and music, his sister Zoe, Friends and cheese. Male, Straight, Has depression and social anxiety. Just doesnt give a f*ck. Quick and witty, sarcastic like that one guy from the FRIENDS sitcom.... Chandler anyone??

Zoe: 16, uhhhhhh.... shes just... zoe. likes to cuss alot and likes to mess with eli, good friends with delilah. good at analysing emotions, want to become a therapist when older or a psycholagist

Eli: 16, quic and witty, Likes art and music, Empath. likes fast food and most non vegetarian foods. Absolutely despises papaya. really into film making. Male. Asexual. Felix and him are the greatest duo. and constantly tries to get internet famous at delilah and felix's expense

Delilah: Kind and just chills around and fine with whatever, the one that really likes an adrenelene rush and the more practical one. likes to prank a lot... maybe too much.

#art #deltarune #funny #funny shit #webcomic #undertale #webcomics #comic art #dank memes #digital art #funny memes #webcomicseries #webcomic series #gooseworx #shitpost #humor #jokes #memes #lol #MOUSECLICKWBS #drama #original character #original charater art #oc art