#that's looking more and more like the standard process

[once-more-with-gravitas]

Transcript and some bonus behind the scenes material:

Welcome to Tumblr Post Restorations.

Often, a heritage post will have a rough time before making its way to my studio. But it's not the layers of grime, a warped varnish coat, or decaying holes that define the worth of a post. It's the thousands of likers and rebloggers that each shared a single moment of beauty. This beauty is what I seek to restore.

I've started with a cotton swab doused with water to remove the dirt from the canvas. This is the longest part of the process, but one that leaves a pristine surface for the remaining restoration. Already, we can see the original post and its iconic imagery begin to peek out past the many years of aging.

Next, I take the post to my heated table. Over the years, uneven temperature and forces have warped the post's canvas. Using my hot air gun, I can iron out all of these distortions, leaving the surface much more even.

The original artist chose to preserve this post using an at-the-time-standard varnish coating. Unfortunately, varnish is a volatile substance that does not handle the years gracefully. On this post in particular, it's become a layer of yellow grime that I'll need to apply heavy solvents to cut through. The original colors, freed from the muting varnish, now sing out from the canvas. It's breathtaking to see the post a step closer to its glory days.

Finally, with the original colors revealed, I can patch up the holes in the canvas. It's always a challenge, as a restorer, to have to step into the mind of the original artist and guess what could have filled these areas. Studying contemporaneous works helps, but it all comes down to a leap of faith to finish the restoration process.

After all this work, the piece looks like hungwy had just taken it off the easel. Through effort and through investment, this canvas can finally shine with its original coloration and content intact, ready for future generations to admire. The pursuit of beauty is a hard road lined with dust, decay, and varnish. But as I go through my days at Tumblr Post Restoration, I take to heart my favorite Rene Descartes quote, "who give a shit."

Tumblr Post Restorations is a not-for-profit service founded yesterday to restore the fine posts of [tumblr] dot com. Our technicians have extensive experience in blogging, with certifications in reading old style nested reblogs, recognizing users after url switches, and imagining what could've been there before a community guidelines takedown.

As Tumblr's users and posts continue to age, Tumblr Post Restorations will only become a more and more necessary part of the post preservation process. Donate your time today to ensure beautiful heritage posts tomorrow.

[hivemuthur]

Can I request childhood friends to lovers with Viktor where he takes reader to prom? I guess this is make up for the time I went to prom alone and just sat in the back uncomfortable cause I didn’t have friends and very socially anxious )):

Hi darling Anon! I went a bit overboard, but I hope you like it :x

Teenage Dirtbag

viktorxfemale!reader general audiences, Viktor asks Reader to prom and guess what, they go!

author’s note: I was hell-bent on making Viktor sound like a teenager here, when I finally decided that he was born with old speech curse. It's just my hc :v @rennethen beta read!

word count: 3,5K

—

You can hear around a fifth giggle this afternoon in the library, followed by an excited yes, and you huff under your nose, re-reading the sentence that got interrupted. Viktor throws you a glance.

“Everything alright?” he asks, whispering, and his breath fans your hand clutching the book. You wince at another distraction and mumble an annoyed yes, not looking up, but Viktor’s eyes are burning a hole in your forehead.

“Ugh, it’s noisy in here today, don’t you think?” you finally whisper back, and if your voice had a pitch, it would be high.

“Yes, well, the prom fever has begun, I believe,” Viktor muses, glancing over at yet another couple exchanging prom invitations and trying to suppress giggles and chatter. When you do only as much as grumble some incomprehensible curse, he presses further. “Are you against prom?”

“Are you not?” you whisper, louder, to the point where whispering actually stops making sense because probably everyone can hear you. “It’s a horrible patriarchal tradition meant to celebrate classic standards of beauty and popularity and alienate outsiders even further. And you have to pay for it.”

“So, am I understanding correctly that you do not intend to go?” Viktor asks, lifting his head to look at you. He studies you for a moment, then smiles—one of those smirks that suggests there will be a very clever follow-up question.

“Exactly.” You nod firmly, crossing your arms over your chest as if to physically shield yourself from what you expect to come next.

“Not even if someone has invited you?” His tone remains casual, but the way he tilts his head suggests something more calculated, and for a fleeting moment, it stings that Viktor would even hint at such a thing.

“Not even then, no.” You shake your head, trying to steady the slight waver in your voice, even though it’s still a whisper.

He hums and reaches into his bag. Before you can say anything, he’s waving two pieces of paper in front of your face, a merciless smirk tugging at his lips.

“I guess it’s very unfortunate that I have bought those tickets then?”

You blink, staring at him as your mind tries to process the words. “You what?” Your voice jumps in volume, drawing a couple of scolding glances and an exaggerated shh from a nearby table.

Viktor tilts his head, utterly unbothered. “I have acquired tickets. Two of them. One for me. One for you.”

“You—” Your mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again. “Viktor, why—? What—” you stutter as your brain spirals into synaptic failure.

“Will you go to the prom with me?” he asks smoothly, flashing you an honest, doe-eyed smile. “I know you enjoy complaining about things before inevitably having a good time, so I thought we could give it a try, no? As friends?”

Your jaw drops. “That is not true.” That is so not true. If you say yes, you are absolutely going to complain all the way through and make sure not to have a good time, just to prove your point. But then again, the gesture is so sweet that two conflicting parts of you battle in an unwinnable war. “Viktor, are you sure?”

“What is there to be unsure about? We’ll dress up, make fun of whoever gets illegally drunk, complain about the food, music, and decorations, and then I will walk you home and bid you good night. No casualties,” he says in one breath, as if trying to convince himself now, too. Your resistance has gone on long enough that even he is beginning to doubt the genius of his own plan.

“I… I don’t have a dress,” you say weakly, taking the ticket from his hand. Your fingers brush, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Well, you had better organise yourself then, yes? Unless you intend to die on that hill and say no?” Viktor teases, but the moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets testing his luck so boldly.

Fortunately, you sigh and shake your head. “No, I don’t intend to die on that hill,” you huff, but your face beams despite yourself. “Fine. Let’s go to prom.”

And while Viktor might have preferred to hear I would love to go with you or one of those choked, excited yes sounds that have been echoing through your entire study session, he will take your fine as a first step toward something bigger. Maybe. He will see.

And you, uh. You are going to the prom. To the conceptually horrible party that celebrates bland, generic stereotypes and leaves no space for individuality or oddity (if that’s how you’d describe yourself). With your best friend. And the lie you told through your fucking teeth about not having a dress makes you blush with shame, but at least that’s out of the way. Now all you have to do is just… go.

When Viktor shows up on your doorstep on the night of the event, you don’t expect anything, even though something inside you gets all giddy when your mom calls you downstairs for the goddamn prom picture. You don’t expect him to react, to do anything out of the ordinary—so when he arrives with a tie that matches your dress perfectly and a complimentary corsage, you’d probably drop whatever you were holding, had your hands been occupied.

And Viktor does almost drop the corsage at the sight of you, his grip wobbling on his cane. His eyes stay locked on you as you rush clumsily down the stairs, still tucking in the last few pins into your hair, the dress flowing around you. And it’s, uh. A really good dress. He almost can’t believe that you’ve managed to find it in such a short time. It hugs you perfectly, and the colour brings out the features Viktor knew were there, but now they look just… perfect. And he notices how your face is actually close to perfect. With little bits of imperfections that make you even more pretty. But he can’t make this too weird, so he swallows down all his awe and greets you with a stupid, “Hi.”

“H-hey,” you stutter, feeling oddly scrutinized. But you do take notice of how neatly Viktor’s hair is combed, how the tie suits his eyes. And then the corsage. And then the strange lump of awkwardness in your throat when your mum urges you both to stand closer for the picture. You try to mask your blush by sticking out your tongue and making a silly face, earning an unimpressed huff from her.

The besotted awkwardness lingers all the way from your doorstep to school. Through the hallway, as you gain a few compliments from people whose names you can’t remember. When Viktor gets an odd “nicely done” from a classmate who’s blatantly eyeing you both. You exchange a glance and chuckle—awkwardly, of course.

By the time you finally sit at the table, the weirdness is too much. Mustering whatever courage is left in your overly pampered self, you lean in and say playfully, “Alright. We are at the prom. Entertain me, please.”

“Entertain you? Are you not entertained enough by the lovely décor and impeccable music?” Viktor smiles incredulously, turning in his chair to face you, grateful for the silence to be broken.

“Thoroughly. But I am hungry for more.” You shoot him a grin and lean in closer.

“Well, turn around then,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Turn around?”

“Go on.” His tone is coaxing, teasing.

So you do. You turn in your chair, facing the room, and almost spit out your drink when Viktor’s arm snakes around your neck, his palm resting on your bare shoulder, his torso pressing lightly against your back. His chin nestles into the crook of your neck as he lifts a hand, finger pointing toward two teachers in the corner of the room.

“Do you think they came drunk or that they got drunk here?” he asks, his voice low with amusement.

You barely register the question at first—too focused on the way his breath fans over your skin, warm and feather-light. Goosebumps prickle across your neck and shoulders, a shiver rolling down your spine before you can stop it.

“I—” You clear your throat, willing yourself to sound normal. “I think—uh, I think they definitely pregamed.” You tilt your head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of Viktor’s expression. He’s smirking. Of course he is.

“Mm. A strategic move,” he murmurs, not moving away. “Perhaps we should have considered it.”

You huff out a laugh, shifting under his arm in an attempt to ignore the way your pulse has suddenly decided to misbehave. “You do realise that if I came here drunk, I would be insufferable?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “But I find you insufferable even sober, so what difference would it make?”

You elbow him lightly in the ribs, earning a breathy chuckle. He still doesn’t move. And you don’t ask him to. His chin rests in the crook of your neck as he scans the room like a scientist observing an experiment in progress. His finger shifts, pointing toward the stage.

“The lead singer,” he murmurs, amusement curling in his voice. “Look closely.”

You squint, following his gaze. It takes a second, but then—oh. The guy isn’t singing. Not really. His mouth moves just a fraction too late, his lips barely forming the right shapes as the speakers blast out an overproduced ballad.

You gasp. “He’s—he’s lip-syncing?”

“Quite badly,” Viktor confirms, his tone as dry as ever.

You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, but Viktor’s shoulders shake with barely-contained mirth. He leans in a fraction more, his breath warming your ear. “Truly an artist at work,” he muses, eyes alight with mischief.

Your gaze drifts further across the room, taking in the scattered pockets of chaos—the swaying bodies on the dance floor, the clumps of students deep in scandalous conversation, and—

“The punch,” Viktor notes, and you follow his gesture toward a table where two students are very obviously spiking the communal bowl.

You snort. “Bold of them to think no one would notice.”

“Mm.” Viktor hums, tilting his head. “Seems like you can still change your mind about intoxication.”

You scoff, twisting just enough to give him a sceptical look. “Is there a particular reason you would like me to get drunk?” you challenge. “Am I truly this insufferable sober?”

Viktor exhales a sharp laugh, but then—he shifts just slightly closer, his voice dropping low as he leans in, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You asked me to entertain you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his accent thick and deliberate. “I am merely presenting you with the options.”

Heat flares in your cheeks so fast you’re convinced the entire room must see it. Your throat goes dry. Viktor is smug, you can feel it in the way his breath lingers, in the amused tilt of his head when he finally pulls back. And oh, you are not going to let him get away with that.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” you declare, lifting your chin in challenge.

Viktor barely hesitates. “Say no more.”

And that’s how you find yourself cradling a giant plastic cup of aggressively spiked punch, the harsh sting of cheap alcohol unmistakable beneath the artificial fruit flavour. Viktor, beside you, takes a sip and immediately winces.

“Whoever did this,” he coughs, shaking his head, “should be arrested.”

You laugh, swallowing past the burn. “And yet, here we are.”

“Deeply regretting our choices?”

You grin. “Oh, absolutely.”

But the regret fades fast as the night unfolds. You both keep up a steady stream of quiet, conspiratorial chatter, pointing out ridiculous dance moves, stolen kisses, and teachers who look like they’d rather be anywhere else. There’s warmth in it, a shared amusement that makes the room blur into the background.

And then—

A familiar melody hums through the speakers, soft and slow, cutting through the pop songs that came before. Without thinking, you blurt, “Dance with me.”

Viktor turns, eyebrows raised. “I don’t really dance,” he says, tapping his cane lightly against the floor.

Realisation sinks in, and your stomach twists. “Oh—I didn’t mean—”

But he’s already shaking his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Swaying,” he amends gently. “Swaying is a better word for what I’m capable of.”

You exhale, smiling. “I prefer swaying to dancing, anyway.”

So you stay close to your table, moving just enough to count as dancing but not enough to make a spectacle of yourselves. Your arms loop around Viktor’s shoulders, fingers brushing the hairline at the nape of his neck, while his hands find their place at the small of your back, fingers linking together.

At first, the awkwardness lingers. You make some quip about looking like a terrible prom cliché, and Viktor fires back that, statistically, you are. But then—his expression shifts, something softer taking over, something you’ve seen on his face before but never thought much of it.

And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leans in, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder.

You freeze for half a second, caught between surprise and outright joy. The scent of him lingers close, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and when you absently tangle your fingers into his hair, Viktor trembles. A full-body reaction barely contained, followed by a quiet, unsteady huff against your shoulder.

Your heart thuds.

His grip tightens, one hand shifting higher, fingers pressing firmly into the space between your shoulder blades as he pulls you closer. For a long moment, neither of you speak. You simply sway, pressed together, moving with the rhythm of the song.

And then, as the last few notes echo out and the moment threatens to end, Viktor shifts. His lips brush the shell of your ear, voice low, careful, asking—

“Would you like to go somewhere quieter?”

“I… I thought you’d never ask,” you murmur, voice weaker than you’d like. You swallow hard as Viktor takes your hand without a word, his grip warm and steady. With an effortless sweep, he hooks his cane off the chair, and then you’re moving—out of the too-bright, too-loud gym, into the cool air of the school corridors.

He leads with quiet confidence, and you follow, heartbeat pressing insistently against your ribs. The path is familiar even in the dim light, and it doesn’t take long before you recognise where he’s heading.

“The library?” you whisper as he guides you toward the building. “When you said quieter, I didn’t think you meant completely silent.”

Viktor smirks, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “Would you prefer the janitor’s closet? It is considerably less spacious.”

You scoff. “Not what I meant. Also—isn’t the library locked?”

His smirk deepens. “I know a door that’s never closed.”

And true enough, he leads you around the side, where an unassuming back door sits in shadow. With a practiced motion, he presses the handle, and it gives way with the softest click.

“You’ve done this before,” you accuse in a whisper.

He tilts his head in faux thoughtfulness. “I could neither confirm nor deny.”

Suppressing a grin, you slip inside after him, the familiar scent of books and dust immediately wrapping around you. The hush of the library feels different at night—more intimate, more secret.

You wander between the shelves, fingers trailing along the spines, exchanging glances through the gaps in the books. The flickering light from the streetlamps outside casts shadows between the rows, stretching and shifting as you move.

“So,” Viktor’s voice breaks the quiet, “how is your prom experience so far?”

You hesitate, considering. Then, with a small smile, you answer honestly, “Unexpected.”

Viktor hums, appearing between the books for just a second before disappearing again into another row. “Is that a good thing?”

You step forward, peering through the shelves, catching the flicker of his gaze as he does the same. “Yeah,” you say softly. “It’s nice.”

You keep this quiet game going, stealing glimpses of each other through gaps in the books, smiles tugging at your lips. The anticipation coils in your chest as you round the final shelf, and—

You meet at the end.

Viktor is already there, standing just a step away, watching you. His head tilts slightly, amusement flickering in his expression as he takes a measured step forward.

“And,” he murmurs, voice lower now, smooth and teasing. “Are you entertained?”

Your lips part, a heartbeat passing before you manage to answer. “Immensely.”

Viktor steps closer, the space between you shrinking with every slow, careful movement. His hand finds your waist, warm and sure, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your dress.

“And if I did this,” he murmurs, voice edged with amusement, “would you be more or less entertained?”

Your breath hitches at the closeness, heat blooming in your cheeks. But you refuse to falter, tilting your chin up just slightly. “More is… more likely.”

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smirk, not quite a smile. Then, with an unhurried grace, he lifts a hand and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers ghosting over your skin.

Your heart stumbles.

“And if, say, I did something like this?” he whispers, his mouth hovering achingly close to yours.

The warmth of him is dizzying, his breath fanning against your lips. Your mind struggles to keep up, to form words, to hold onto logic, but all you manage is a weak, “I think you have to be a little bit more specif—”

You don’t get to finish.

Because Viktor kisses you.

At first, it’s tentative—a soft press of lips, uncertain but intent, as if testing the waters of something fragile and new. His hand tightens at your waist, pulling you the barest bit closer, and you can’t help the soft, surprised sound that escapes you.

And then the hesitation melts.

The kiss deepens, slow but heady, and before you know it, your fingers are threading into his perfectly combed hair, tugging him closer. You feel him inhale sharply against your mouth, and then—

A low, barely-there noise escapes him as your fingers twist further, utterly ruining the neatness he’d so carefully maintained. His hand slides up your back, pressing against bare skin, and when you curl your fingers at the nape of his neck, Viktor shudders—actually shudders again—and lets out a soft, breathy huff against your lips.

Visibly flustered, Viktor pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, though the space between you remains minuscule. His breath is uneven, his carefully composed exterior slightly shaken, and the way his lips part—like he’s still chasing the remnants of the kiss—does nothing to help your own spiraling thoughts.

His fingers linger at your waist as if reluctant to let go, and then, in a quiet, almost sheepish voice, he asks, “So, um… Do you think I could keep entertaining you in a prom-unrelated environment in the near future?”

You blink, your mind catching up to his words, still dazed from the kiss, and then—

“Are you asking me out?”

The sheer wonder and hope in your voice nearly makes Viktor laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching. He exhales, shaking his head as if he can’t believe you can’t believe it.

“I—” He swallows, gaze flickering over your face, then exhales a soft chuckle. “Yes. Yes, I am asking you out.”

 “Yes, I would love for you to keep entertaining me then,” you say warmly.

A smile breaks across Viktor’s face, slow and triumphant, because in one fell swoop, he’s won both of what he wanted—an enthusiastic yes and a very eager I would love to.

And that’s all the permission he needs.

He doesn’t wait, doesn’t second-guess it. He just leans in and kisses you again, his hands finding your waist, pulling you flush against him. This time, there’s no hesitation, no lingering question marks hanging between you—just warmth, want, and the giddy realisation that this is happening.

Your fingers tangle into his already-mussed hair, and Viktor makes a noise against your mouth that you swear you feel more than hear, something between a sigh and a laugh. His arms tighten around you as he deepens the kiss, as if anchoring himself to this moment, to you.

Somewhere between kisses, between the rustle of clothes and the muffled sound of your shared, breathless laughter, a book teeters off the shelf and lands with a soft thud on the floor beside you. You barely notice. Prom may have been the reason you ended up here, but right now, the only thing that matters is Viktor, his lips on yours, the feeling of his fingers pressing into the small of your back, and the quiet, thrilling promise of whatever comes next.

[coachs-kit-bag]

I love your advice about dressing in the right gear to get oneself in the mindset to transform into a jock this year.

Any suggestions on a ‘starter pack’ of things that one might need to go down that path?

With your ambition to transform yourself this year, you may have gotten a boost from this recent post on the same topic. Creating a starter pack is an intriguing thought exercise as there are many different routes that one could go down. Happy to help!

1. Jockstrap

I have mentioned on this blog several times that committing to wearing a good jockstrap as daily wear is one of the strongest adaptations an aspiring jock can make. Classic styles (such as the original Bike brand) or increasingly the black Nike model are widely available and good to experiment with.

2. Sports Socks

Secondly, and easily overlooked by many, choosing the right pairs of Socks will keep you grounded in your path. Anything from a basic 5-pack of white Adidas socks will suffice, but, in my experience, you can make sports socks fit with any attire. I often wear knee-length Rugby socks underneath my suits in the workplace or a pair of Nike Elites with casual trainers (graciously gifted by a follower of this blog).

Whatever choice you make, commit yourself and your wardrobe entirely and trust the process.

3. Spandex/Lycra

It will be no surprise for a regular viewer of this blog that I advocate for skintight spandex/lycra within this list. You can even see this as your new 'jock uniform' for a good workout. Under Armour, Nike Pro and Skins Compression are all solid brands, but anything skintight is right by me. At first, you may feel that you need to wear a looser pair of running shorts, but within time you will quickly realise that the more you wear, the more correct it feels to wear alone.

Short-sleeved shirts with shorts, especially in matching or complimentary sets, demonstrate pride in your appearance. In addition, a pair of full-length tights should be in every jock’s wardrobe as standard practice. Once you start collecting, you might find it hard to stop buying, and even resist wearing anything else.

4. Vest

For those moments when you need a loose-fitting, casual look, a vest and short shorts come in handy. Showing the right amount of skin is paramount - you never know when you’ll be called to perform a good flex for the camera. Show off those gains!

5. Cap & Headphones

Lastly, as you requested a real “starter pack” to assimilate yourself fully as a jock - a good cap and pair of headphones will be vital to help you connect to the right frequency, zone out of the mundane and lock in to your goals.

This might seem like a lot at first, but before long you’ll realise just how important your new wardrobe will be!

For more ideas, you can always check the posted tagged “jock” for more inspiration.

For those lured in and wishing to purchase kits for others rather than for themselves, my Ko-Fi is always open and for TF posts you can visit @coachs-locker-room

I would be open to do another one of these starter packs focusing on a specific items, or other sports. Let me know if that interests you or leave a comment if there is something you would recommend.

[robo-milky]

hiii milkyyyy! u’ve been popping out so many manga pages and i’m just so amazed?? i’ve been wanting to get back to manga drawing so can i ask for some tips? like what’s your process and how do you decide the screen tones/sfx/effects/speechbubbles to use? the latter is something i’m struggling with 😭

tyyy 💕

Hi Yudi, thanks for dropping by!

General note: One thing I’ve learned about trying to go for a more manga-esque style is that there’s really no particular way to do it, and EVERY artist does it differently. Everything I do here is a blend of my own style and things from JP artists I admire! However, the most important thing is that panels aren’t meant to be masterpieces but to convey information and get the dialogue going.

This process will be CSP oriented. I’ve made a mini screen tone tutorial (and how to turn on Layer Property) but I did not talk about my own settings ^^ You’re free to do any resolution you want, though I stick to drawing on a B4 template for fun (and imagine that one day my stuff can get published /j). I hope this helps, as I’m still trying to figure my own style and set limits on the details too.

[Process]

Script + Thumbnail

I used to wing stuff for one-pagers, but now I’ve found that scripting and thumbnailing has made my process so much faster. (Omg it’s almost like people make drafts for a reason- @ me cause I hate planning)

There’s no standards of a comic script, and each publisher has their own format. My usual scripts don’t separate pages, since I leave that to the thumbnailing once I do dialogue placement. If trying to imagine panels without seeing them overwhelming, at least get the dialogue down.

The B4 thumbnail template I use is pretty darn big, so it also doubles as the sketching stage. Once the thumbnails are done, I transfer them (screenshot) to a comic file on CSP. Once the set up is done, I do speech bubbles + dialogue first, insert the frames, then get to the line art. Since I don’t think anyone is actually gonna print their works, you’re free to trim your canvas however you want to post online 🫡

Speech Bubbles

Any speech bubble can work and will eventually blend in as the viewer is reading, but I have a vendetta against super flat/digital-looking ones. I made a custom brush for a textured speech bubble pen with line width by adjusting its taper and changing the brush shape. Published manga are a different story, but I like the more organic polygonal bubble shapes from indie artists-

For different shapes and situation… Squares - Narration, Flash/Urchin - Character thoughts/internal monologue, Hexagon - Phone call/text (not a concrete rule but a common pattern)

You can also add emanata (sparkles/symbols) on the bubbles for flairs as you see fit.

Screen tone (Please read the linked mini-tutorial above)

I split my tones into two folders. One specifically for black, and greys.

I first fill in all black areas, the duplicate them. The top layer will be the shadows (remains pure black), and the bottom layer is set to [Opacity 75%] and turned into a screen tone layer with a [frequency of 45-50] (It must always be at a lower frequency than the greys). To add texture, I use a grainy brush to erase bits of pure black on a mask. To show light on the screen tone layer, I use gradient erase on a mask.

For the greys, I split them into three tones (dark grey, medium grey, light grey) all in the same folder so they don’t overlap and it’s easier to fix. I use a [frequency of 75] or any number higher than the screen tone in the black layer. Overall, tones can be as simple and complex as you want, but it’s best to save more detailed tones for important panels. (Planning to change this as I’ve realized how big the B4 canvas actually is, and the frequency doesn’t need to be so high- The size of screen tone is a preference. This example was done on a smaller canvas, so higher frequencies still look less pixelated/small.)

Emanata/SFX

Special effects is whatever the situation calls for! It can to make a blank canvas feel more dynamic, to evoke certain emotions, hint/foreshadow. It’s best used sparingly on important panels you think would be the most important… but how do you get those effects?

THE CLIP STUDIO ASSETS STORE- Or draw/download your own depending on the program (You have no idea- ever since I downloaded too, I can’t unsee them in other works of artists I like 😭) Not used in the example but these are my essentials- You can also find a lot of gems if you straight up search “manga” and see the most popular assets.

Another good place to find comic fonts in general is blambot.com (?). They have quite a bit of free, personal use fonts if you ever need flavour text when italics or bold isn’t enough. (Current font used is Anime Ace 3 Regular BB).

Happy creating and feel free to ask if anything was unclear ^^

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

Go, Touch Some Grass-Kokonoe Mercury X Reader

I think this is the single longest thing I have written for this blog. I might also make a part two to this later but I doubt I will.

Anywho, sorry for the inactivity as of late. I just haven't really had the energy to write and because of that I've probably gotten very rusty so this is more than likely not up to my usual standards. My apologies for that.

With all of that aside, I hope you enjoy!

Kokonoe Mercury was absolutely furious.

“Where’s Tager?” Kokonoe growled out as she stomped down the halls, glaring holes through any unfortunate researcher who crossed her path.

“Miss Litchi sent him on a wild goose chase to ensure you didn’t use him to bust into your office.” you responded as you walked behind the irate woman.

Kokonoe attempted to further clench her hands into fists but, due to the bone crushing amount of force she had already used when she learned of what Litchi had done, it was an exercise in futility.

Kokonoe wheeled around the corner and nearly barreled over some poor janitor in the process.

“Sorry about that.” was all you had time to say to the janitor before you had to leave him and break into a jog to catch up with Kokonoe who was nearing her target.

Kokonoe practically bust the door down as she stormed into Litchi’s office.

“Ah! What brings you her-” Litchi began with a smile before she was interrupted by the furious pink haired woman before her.

“Save it! Why the hell can’t I get into my office! Or the labs! Or the storage closets!” Kokonoe snapped at Litchi.

“Oh my! I have no idea! What makes you think I would have any idea what would cause that?” Litchi responded with a voice dripping with false shock and a smirk on her face as she placed her head in her hand.

Kokonoe promptly reached into her lab coat and pulled out a piece of paper that she then slammed onto the table.

The piece of paper read “Go, Touch Some Grass!” with a drawing of Litchi’s winking face in chibi form.

You had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying “I don’t think Miss Kokonoe knows what grass is, seeing as she never leaves the lab.”

“Hmm… This is a very flattering drawing of me, don’t you think?” Litchi asked, causing Kokonoe to let out a scream of primal rage and launch herself at the woman.

Or, she tried to at least, she only got halfway before you grabbed her by the back of her collar.

“Let me go dammit! Let me at her! I’ll show her who needs to go touch grass!” Kokonoe hissed as she thrashed and writhed in mid air.

She was concerningly light, barely feeling like she weighed more than one of the boxes of microscopes that needed to be ordered every time an explosion occurred in the lab.

“Before you do that, can you tell me this, how long has it been since you ate a meal?” Litchi asked as Kokonoe continued to thrash around.

“I had-” Kokonoe began before being cut off.

“Meal replacement bars and shakes don’t count. Neither does candy.” Litchi clarified, making Kokonoe go still and quiet as she racked her brain for the answer to Litchi’s question.

“It was… the 15th!” Kokonoe declared, seeming proud of herself.

Litchi proceed to point at the calendar, showing that the current date was the 7th.

Kokonoe scowled in response to this and crossed her arms in irritation.

“What do you want out of me?” Kokonoe grumbled.

“I want you to go to your apartment, and grow something from one of these seeds.” Litchi declared while opening one of her drawers before tossing a pack of mixed seeds onto the table.

Kokonoe looked at the seeds for a solid minute before saying “I could do that in thirty minutes in the lab.”

“I know you could, but, until you learn how to take better care of yourself, you won’t be doing anything in the lab.” Litchi declared.

Kokonoe’s face began to turn red from rage before she took in a deep breath that she held in before letting out.

“How long will all of this take?” Kokonoe grumbled.

“In all honesty? I don’t expect you to be back for about two months.” Litchi declared, making Kokonoe gasp before yelling.

“ARE YOU CRAZY!? TWO MONTHS!?”

“You could prove me wrong, but as I can say with certainty, you and nature do not get along.” Litchi responded.

Kokonoe ground her teeth together, trying to concoct a way out of this predicament.

Unfortunately, Kokonoe was pushed onto the back foot by Litchi Faye Ling.

That means no amount of death stares or threats will move her opponent.

And people had the audacity to call Kokonoe stubborn.

Kokonoe went limp, accepting defeat.

“Fine. But I’m taking your best assistant as collateral!” Kokonoe declared, hoping that this would, somehow, force Litchi into re-considering her demands.

“We have a deal!” Litchi declared before turning her attention to you and spoke.

“You can put her down now. Be sure to pack up everything you need before leaving!”

You promptly lowered Kokonoe onto the ground and began to walk out the door before being stopped by Kokonoe.

“Hey! I said your best assistant! Not MY best assistant!” the pink hair woman exclaimed.

“That is my assistant. I let you borrow them for an extra set of eyes during an experiment while Tager was off on errands and you never gave them back.” Litchi explained with a smile that held a small amount of venom.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You and Kokonoe sat next to one another as the tram followed its course down to the residential area.

The two of you stuck out like sore thumbs with the pure white lab coats the two of you wore, the scowl on Kokonoe’s face, and your relatively calm expression.

You had long since gotten accustomed to the pink haired scientist and her… ornery moods.

In fact, due to your constant exposure to her, you had the nebulous honor of being one of the few who were unaffected by her temper when it boiled over.

Speaking of the devil herself, you turned your attention to the woman as she reached into the sleeve of her coat and pulled out a piece of her iconic silvervine candy.

“I’ve got a question for ya.” the woman grumbled.

“I will attempt to answer it to the best of my abilities.” you replied.

Kokonoe grunted before twisting her head to the side with the back of her hand, causing a series of cracks to enter your ears.

“If you’re one of Litchi’s assistants, why’d you stick around to work with me?” Kokonoe asked with a suspicious tone to her voice.

“Curiosity. You have quite the reputation as a slave driving monster around the water cooler.” was all you said in response.

This forced a wheezing cackle from Kokonoe’s chest.

“You aren’t the type to mince words are you? Remind me to take you off of Litchi’s hands when we get back!” Kokonoe exclaimed as she continued her cackling.

“I will keep that in mind.” you declared as you waited for Kokone to regain her composure.

Kokonoe continued to laugh for a few more moments before claming down.

“So, did the stories do me justice?” Kokonoe asked with a smirk.

You were quiet for a moment before responding.

“You have high but, for the most part, not unreasonable expectations of those that work under you. There is no inherent problem with that as it serves as a point to strive for and to exceed. However, for many the bar set is too high. That is my assessment. So, in my opinion, no, the stories are not entirely accurate.”

“Well, can’t say I was expecting a response like that. I was asking for your opinion, not a report on an experiment.” Kokonoe declared as she put her head in the palm of her hand.

“To be fair Miss Kokonoe, I am still on the clock. Technically.” was all you said in defense to your position.

The rest of the ride in the tram was spent in a relative, semi-comfortable, silence.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

By the time Kokonoe remembered where her apartment was, night had fallen.

Despite this, you continued to carry both your and Kokonoe’s suitcases as the two of you walked up the stairs and Kokonoe mumbled to herself about keys as she struggled to recall which one of the many on her key ring was the one for her apartment.

Soon, the two of you reached the apartment that belonged to Kokonoe, though it took a while for the door to be opened due to Kokonoe being forced to play trial and error with her myriad of keys.

As soon as the door was pushed open, a robotic voice greeted the two of you.

“Good. Evening. Miss. Kokonoe. Welcome. Home. You. Have. Been. Gone. For. Ninety. Days. Fifteen. Hours. And. Thirty. Minutes. Is. There. Anything. You. Require?” a small robot roughly the height and width of a garbage can with a duster in one hand and a vacuum in the other asked as it stood at attention in the entryway.

“No. Don’t worry about the guest either. They're with me.”

The robot promptly did a small bow before turning in place and walking off.

You were then led into the living room which, in all honesty, looked as if it was ready to be shown off and sold to the next potential buyer by a real estate agent.

In other words, it looked clean, clinical, and completely uninhabited.

“Welcome to my home away from home.” Kokonoe declared as she grabbed her suitcase from you, walked down the hall, and into a room, before slamming the door behind her and leaving you standing alone.

You clicked your tongue before muttering to yourself.

“This design of this place is very… human.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Kokonoe did not have any clocks in her apartment.

Mostly because if she was at her apartment, that meant one of two things.

The lab had exploded and was in the process of being fixed. She was practically on her deathbed from sickness.

As such, she fully expected to not wake up until her body declared she needed to.

To be fair, that expectation was filled, just not in the way she thought it would be when the smell of freshly cooked food entered her nose and roused her from her sleep.

“Ugh… What the hell is that smell?” Kokonoe grumbled as she rolled over and towards the window to gauge the time based off of the sun.

Based on the light entering her room, it was around ten-ish.

Kokonoe let out a sigh as she threw the covers off of her and trudged towards her door, kicking her discarded lab coat, and other articles of clothing to the side in the process.

Kokonoe yawned as she reached for the door’s handle before pulling it open.

This revealed you, your hand raised to knock on the door.

“Ah. I’ve made lu-” you began to say before cutting yourself off as you went red in the face.

You proceeded to grab the handle opposite from the one Kokonoe was holding and slammed the door shut, leaving the pink haired scientist deeply confused.

It took a few seconds for the still groggy and half asleep Kokonoe to remember that, before she went to sleep, she removed all of her clothes.

“Oh right. Most people care that other people wear clothes.” Kokonoe said to herself aloud before scratching the side of her head and turning on her heel to find something to cover herself with.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Kokonoe walked into the kitchen, wearing a t-shirt, a pair of sweatpants, and a pair of slippers with a fresh lab coat over it all alongside the expression of a person who was completely unbothered by the previous event.

That expression did not stay long as she noticed something had gone missing from the kitchen.

“Where the hell is my fridge?” Kokonoe asked, trying her best and failing spectacularly to keep her voice even.

You sat at the table, your head in your hands over a bowl of soup.

“Its contents were the wrong amount of alive.” was all you said in response, a tint of red still on your face as you tried to force the memory of Kokonoe minus her clothes out of your mind.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Kokonoe demanded before the conversation was interrupted by screams.

“HOLY SHIT! LARRY!!! GET THE FLAMETHROWER!!!”

“WHY DOES IT HAVE EYES!!!!”

“It means that.” you muttered before shuddering, composing yourself, and then gesturing to the pot on the stove.

“I have made soup.” you declared.

“Is it any good?” Kokonoe asked, crossing her arms.

“I give you no guarantees.” was your response.

“Meh, good enough for me.” the pink haired scientist declared with a shrug of her shoulders.

Lunch passed in silence save for the sounds of battle outside.

However, lunch did not last long and soon the two of you were getting down to brass tacks.

“Right, we need to go to the store, don’t we?” Kokonoe asked as she put her dishes in the sink.

“Correct. We require a replacement fridge, food, and material for you to grow a plant. I will cover a quarter of the cost for the fridge.” You responded as you put your own dishes into their place.

“A quarter? Aren’t you the one who threw it out?” Kokonoe asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I was not the one who let that godless creature be born. Also, I live on an assistant's salary.” Was your retort and your defense to Kokonoe’s reasoning.

“Fine. Just know I’m not happy about this.” the half beastkin woman declared.

“Duly noted.” was your response.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After the plan had been decided, the two of you set out and onto the town.

Much like most things involving Kokonoe V.S. The Outside World, as you were coming to find, it became an all day debacle.

Especially with what happened with Kokonoe and that poor appliance salesman.

He made the very reasonable assumption that, due to the two of you coming in at the same time and looking at the fridges on display together, you and Kokonoe were a couple.

You thought Kokonoe was going to tear his head clean off when the words left his mouth. Thankfully, she only skinned him alive with her words and not any of the knives from the kitchen sets that were nearby.

Still, the day remained profitable despite the hiccup, and by the time night fell, the new fridge was installed and stocked with food.

Soon after that, the two of you fell into a rhythm.

Kokonoe would obsess over the plant, you would double check her measurements to ensure everything was going smoothly, then you would begin the most torturous task you had even inflicted upon yourself.

Teaching Kokonoe Mercury how to take care of herself.

First, you started with the basics in Laundry which was easy enough since most of her clothes could be sorted into whites and reds.

Of course, that came with her grumbling about how she could build a robot or get Taeger to do this for the entire time, still, it was progress.

But, then came cooking.

Foolishly, you thought that she would do well in cooking since it was as much science as it was art.

This was a very, very idiotic thought to have.

In five minutes she managed to turn a bag of rice into ash.

It took her ten to completely immolate a fish down to its bones.

After this disaster, you decided to put off trying to teach her how to cook until you had a fire extinguisher on hand.

Still, cooking related mishaps aside, everything was going well in forcing Kokonoe to learn that, no matter how hard she wished or how many drugs she put into her silvervine candy, she still had a body of flesh and blood.

She was, of course, filled with enough rage to burn the world to ash due to this, but that was something you expected when you were co-opted into this debacle.

What you didn’t expect however, was your side of the emotional coin.

Specifically, your growing admiration and care for her.

This isn’t to say you didn’t admire her before this, but more so to say that before this your admiration for her was only professional.

Now though, you were admiring her as a person.

You always knew she was a stubborn person, it was par for the course in the field of science.

Now though, you saw that her stubbornness was something she applied in all facets of her life.

And as you continued to spend time with her, you also saw that her stubbornness and her care were one in the same.

Still, you knew it was better to keep all of that to yourself.

She was your boss and you were her assistant.

It would be better and far simpler for both you and her to keep it that way.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Kokonoe Mercury, for the first time in a very, very long time, didn’t feel like absolute crap.

Was this the power of three square meals a day, water, and regular doses of sunlight?

If it was, Kokonoe would be… inclined to not kill Litchi the second she got back her lab access.

Just ever so slightly.

The fact she stole you to be her assistant was also helping out.

It was also causing her an immense amount of headache as, against her better judgement, Kokonoe was getting ever so slightly attached to you.

She knew she shouldn’t based on past data.

Everyone she had ever made a bond with had left her, died, or worse.

It was a quantifiable metric.

And yet, here Kokonoe was, thinking of a way to try and even the score.

As loath as she was to admit it, you had taught her things.

To her, knowledge in all its forms was something invaluable.

Sure, she never felt the need to repay someone for teaching her something before but that's unimportant.

What was important now, was finding something worth what you taught her.

Maybe she could invite you to be her research partner?

No, no, no, she already had you as her assistant, that was almost the same thing wasn’t it?

She couldn’t up your salary either since the budget for the year had already been decided.

“Wait, that’s it!” Kokonoe exclaimed, a mad grin making itself known on her face.

Sure, she couldn’t raise your salary, but she could give you a way to take some strain off your budget.

She could just invite you to live with her.

Yes, that would be perfect! It would allow for the symbiotic relationship the two of you had to continue, and it would let Kokonoe continue to operate at maximum efficiency.

Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner?

It was a foolproof plan that benefitted both you and her!

Truly, the genius of Kokonoe Mercury is unparalleled.

If only she was this smart when it came to her emotions and other people.

[azorious-saber-cat]

BLOOD: Fresh Supply

Monolith Productions (1997)

Remaster by Nightdive Studios (2019)

[tomwambsmilk]

fr tho @staff why are you trying to make tumblr more like other sites why are you destroying your niche in the market please there have got to be ways to make tumblr more accessible to new users without sacrificing the very things that your existing userbase loves

[legendary-guest]

Dr. D gets to dress-up as a cowboy, well, why not cousin Eddie? The look isn't original, he's dressed in Lemmy Kilmister's outfit from Motorhead's album Ace of Spades. Reference and discussion under the cut.

Lemmy is wearing belt and a bandolier, which is ridiculous and I found that challenging to incorporate into Motor Ed's proportions and the general KP style. I ended up omitting both and just stuck with the jacket, omitting tassels on the arm, and spade buttons. No signature KP-era Silver baggy pants as the band are basically wearing vacuum-sealed 70s jeans. The shine on the jacket is there to differentiate it from the rest of the outfit, since it's black on black on black - this took a good portion of my time. I had shine on Drakken's belt in his S1 model in-mind when doing the patterning. I am very lazy with colouring for fan art, so I just used the show's established black, colour-picked, of course. Same with the coloured portion of the line art.

The original sketch didn't have the tongue out with piercing, there was a stray line that looked like the start of something, so I went with it. I don't like this expression for him in his pose/scenario, so I stayed with the smirk. Built the rough clean body to try to figure out the shirt/jacket combination, since that would be very challenging with the layering and tassels.

[spamtoon]

i would take their poison

Sketch + Line Art for those Clicking Under the Cut(tm) (archival purposes honestly)

[theragamuffininitiative]

Torn between "I wish there was a Wilder Woods fanbase on tumblr so I could come participate in all the great postings with the gang to celebrate Curioso" and "I am so so glad there isn't a Wilder Woods fanbase online bc nobody is around to ruin things for me with drama."

[hungergameshyperfixation]

Not to be that person but Panem had nearly 75 full Hunger Games before their system of government was overthrown. 75(+?) years. But things changed in the end. This too shall pass (but not without active participation)

[minakoaiinos]

Lost my original post of this from the other day but I genuinely don't understand how Black Butler discourse ever shifted into the does Sebastian ~really~ like Ciel or is Ciel just dinner line of conversation that is pervasive as it is because Sebastian is the one that has absorbed his whole existence into Ciel's. Sebastian's face is what Ciel wants Sebastian's whole purpose is doing things for Ciel Sebastian's every hell of a butler yes my lord speech is about how he's Ciel's and Ciel is the one going around saying shit like whatever Sebastian is just my pawn 💅

[arolesbianism]

Doodle I did of my girl Juliet earlier

[jackdawsfavorite]

Trying to listen to something about that small college in Florida Desantis took over for politics but hearing it described as it was before reminded me of college-hunting with my mom and triggered the shit out of me.

[lowestechelonabomination]

every time I think that I'm too hard on myself and that maybe I should trust my capabilities more, the universe has to go and prove that I've actually been greatly overestimating my competency