#the cell shading makes my life easier

[ferronickel]

Looking Glasses Page 65

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Sometimes all Ralsei needs is a hug

[waterbearable]

took a little break to continue bg3 run 2 and delighted to report that although I gave up on the weird fuckin needle blight ambush (might return to it another time I was just barely at level+at a halfway point w spell slots and it was not worth a long rest) I DID get into moonrise and break out the prisoners without triggering a fight which I hadn't done before. (tried to talk warden into letting me speak w prisoners first, that didn't work, so I shut the door and killed her, then deceived the other guards into thinking I could talk w the prisoners, then careful sneaking meant I killed all the scrying eyes and didn't alert any other guards. Wahoo)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Finer Things 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, age gap, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your mom surprises you with a visit but has a lot more in store than you could ever imagine.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: Another sexy silverfox.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Thor loves thunder. Take care. 💖

“It will be so good to see you, honey,” you mom’s buoyant voice rings in your ear drum and you move the cell away from your ear. You make a face and catch the eyes of passerby, cringing at yourself as you veer away from the coed and continue towards your residence. 

“You too, mom,” you reply as you keep to the edge of the walk, sure to keep out of the way of students and faculty alike. 

“I have a surprise too!” She rings out. 

“Mm, you do?” You frown. The last time she had a surprise, it wasn’t really for you. Her trip to the Caribbean had you alone for your sixteenth but that was like five years ago. 

Your eyes skim the rustic colours of the curling leaves as wind whips around the collar of your coat. You plug your other hear so you can hear her voice. 

“Oh yes! It’s all really exciting. Just make sure you wear something fancy. I looked up a few local spots and this one looks very upscale,” she trills. 

That’s your mom. She spends more than she should, or has. If she had access to your trust, you wouldn’t have tuition. It’s just another part of your life that makes you feel helpless. 

“Alright, I’m sure I have something...” 

“What about all those clothes I gave you when I cleaned out my closet?” She preens. 

“Mom, I couldn’t fit them in my suitcase.” You don’t mention that you didn’t fit into them either. Your short and rounder than her. 

“Do you need money? I could send you my credit card number... one of them.” 

“It’s fine. I’ll find something,” you assure her and dodge out of the way of a group of frats. You feel so invisible. It’s like no matter what you do, no one sees you, even standing right in front of them. “I should go. It’s windy.” 

“Okay, I guess you can go,” she whines. “But I’ll see you tonight. Oh, I’ll send you the address too. Should I send an uber?” 

“Mom, please, my tuition includes a bus pass--” 

“The bus? Oh, at night?” 

“Mom,” you grit again. “Please. I’ll get there. See ya then.” 

“Alright, alright. I love you. Buh-bye.”  

You hang up and tuck your phone away, keeping your hands in your pockets as the tails of your coat flap with another chilly gust. You slope your shoulders against the autumnal temperate and hide your cheeks against your scarf. You love this time of year for the apple cider and pumpkin everything but the weather isn’t always so pleasant. 

As you get to your building, you look up at the windows. There are signs decrying the latest political frenzy and flags with varying shades of rainbow, and some stickers stuck on the panes. Your own window is barren. Just like you, your living quarters are plain. 

You let yourself in through the front door with a flash of your fob and drag your feet up the stairs. Gabourey is in the kitchen on speaker phone. You often fall asleep listening to her conversations, though you try hard not to. Racquel would be working down at the bookstore, and most times you wonder where Virgie is, she’s in her room napping. 

Your entry goes unnoticed. You hide in your dorm and put your bag on the chair by the desk. You untie your boots and carry them back to the mat. Too late, you already soaked the small patch of carpet between your bed and the desk. 

You toss your coat on your bed and go to the wooden armoire next to the sink in the corner. It isn’t much space but it’s yours. You open the doors and stare down the garments hanging inside. You favour plaid, tweed, and muted colours. The plum turtleneck would go nice with your circle skirt but it feels so stuffy. Your mom said fancy, not uptight. 

Hm. A classic black dress. Everyone has one. Even you. It’s simple. A wrap with a bow at the hip. It emphasizes your curves but doesn’t make you look bigger. You can put a necklace on with it and fight your hair for some semblance of presentability. 

It doesn’t matter much anyway, it’s just your mom. You don’t really care what other people think. She’s the one so hung up on appearances. You’ll just enjoy the free meal, if her card isn’t declined. 

💎

Your mom texts as you shove your wallet in your purse. You put your glasses on over your fresh coat of mascara and read her message. ‘Uber on it’s way for you.’ 

You huff and key in your message, ‘mom, I told you not to worry.’ 

She sees it but doesn’t answer. She never listens to anyone. Ever. It’s why you haven’t seen your own grandparents since your graduation. What a lovely day that was. 

You shrug and grab your coat. Oh well. No use in arguing now. With how quick the app is, the driver’s probably right outside. Besides, you weren’t exactly looking forward to waiting for the bus in the bitter cold. 

As you come downstairs, you get another text. In the chat, you find a screenshot of your mom’s phone, but that’s not her phone number on the confirmation screen. Or yours. Hm. 

You match the license play before you approach the car. You get in and greet the driver. He doesn’t answer you. Wow, you’re in his back seat and you still can’t get a hello. Or maybe the music’s too loud. 

You clutch your bag in your lap and watch out the window. The tension rises to an awkward strangle and when at last you reach the restaurant, you thank him. He turns down the music before you can get the door open. 

“Thanks for the tip, lady,” he says brightly. “Awesome!” 

You smile and bid him ‘you’re welcome’, rather than correcting him. Even if it’s undeserved, you’ll take it. Your mom must already have ordered some wine. Her statement must be close to its limit. 

You get out and look up at the curvy cursive of the restaurant sign. It’s fancy for sure. You cross the pavement and enter warily. You might just convince her to go somewhere else. Somewhere affordable. 

You stand around in the lobby and stare at the hostess as her eyes cling to the tablet on her podium. She taps around on the screen and ignores you. Is she? Or does she just not know you’re there? You clear your throat and step up. 

“Um, hi, I’m meeting someone here. I think they’ve arrived but, er, yeah,” you grip your phone tight, “Joyce.” 

“Joyce,” she squints and checks her screen. You give your last name but she still can’t find it. 

“One second,” you back up as a couple enters and you pull up the chat. 

You frantically text your mom; ‘I’m here but they don’t have your name.’ 

The checkmark goes blue but she doesn’t answer. The bubble doesn’t even pop up to show she’s typing. Your stomach swirls and you look around. The couple is shown into the dining room by a server as the hostess looks at you. You can feel her judgement. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” a man appears in a suit, “I think my guest is here. Young thing--” 

The man pauses and you look up. Your heart picks up in recognition. It’s him. Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. Billionaire, engineer, generous donour to the university. He smirks at you. 

“There she is,” he heads for you and you shake your head. 

“Oh no, not me--” 

He says your name and you choke on your tongue. You touch your collar and shake your head. He chuckles. 

“Sorry, did I scare ya?” He beams at you. “Your mom’s holding the table.” 

“My mom--” you stammer. 

“Come on.” He beckons you with his hand, the flash of his expensive  

“Mr. Stark, did you need anything for the table?” The hostess asks. 

“I’m good, sweetheart,” he winks and keeps his arm extended to you. 

“Alright, well if you do, ask for Chelsea.” 

He laughs again and waves you close. You walk to him in shock. 

“Actually, Chelsea, her coat,” he says. 

He surprises you as he unbuttons your jacket himself. You just stand there. He pushes it back on your shoulders and you squeak. You turn to let him free your arms and he hands the wool over to the hostess. 

“There we go,” he purrs. 

You step away and cross your arms defensively. He bends his elbow and looks at you expectantly, “come on.” 

You hesitate but step forward. He grabs your wrist before you can react and hooks your arm through his. You still can’t believe it’s him. Or that he’s there with your mom. This is her surprise? How the hell does she wander into these things? 

You let him lead you into the dining room. Despite the lingering nip of the fall in your cheek, sweat forms on the back of your neck and speckles your scalp. You look around and find at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching you in turn. 

Stark leads you to a booth where your mom wiggles on the bench. She shimmies out from behind it and throws her arms up. Your escort releases you, brushing between your hand and your skirt, and your mom wraps you up in a hug. She rocks you with a squeal. 

“Honey! I missed you.” 

“Mom,” you groan. 

“Joyce, please, give the girl a moment,” Stark chuckles, “come on, let’s settle in. I’m getting a bit peckish.” 

You eagerly take his lead. You nod as your mom lets you go and you keep your eyes on the table. You slide in next to your mom as she sits. 

“Wine?” Stark offers as he lifts the bottle already on the table. 

“Erm, I don’t--” 

“She’d love some,” your mom answers, “don’t let me have all of that or I might regret it in the morning.” 

You force a smile at her joke. The undertone gives you an ick but you ignore it. Stark pours the glass. 

“We haven’t formally been introduced,” he says as he plunks the bottle down, “Tony Stark.” 

“Mr. Stark,” you take his hand as he offers it and shake it, “nice to meet you.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he slithers the cliche and squeezes your hand before letting go. 

You retract and cradle your fingers in your lap. You’re burning with surprise and confusion still. You glance at your mom. 

“Your mom says you came straight from school, smartie pants,” he grins. “I’m honoured you came all this way.” 

“Um, not that far.” 

“You go to Keating,” he prompts. 

“Yes, er, you spoke there--” 

“I did,” he agrees quickly. “Back in the fall. You were there?” 

“Um, ha, yeah,” you twist your fist around your finger. “I-- It was busy, you probably don’t remember but me and my roommate came to the meet and greet. She got your signature.” 

“Oh, she did? But you didn’t?” 

“Erm, no, I didn’t have VIP,” you show your teeth sheepishly, “sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves off your apology. “You get a whole night with me.” 

Your mother giggles and puts her hand on his arm, “so, you like your surprise?” 

“Uh, surprise?” You echo thinly. “Sure, uh... I... feel like I’m crashing.” 

“Not at all.” Stark insists. 

“Thanks, Mr. Stark, er--” 

“Please, it’s Tony,” he says. “My father’s Mr. Stark and he’s a jackass at that.” 

You laugh, more nervous than amused. Your mom rubs his arm and leans into him, “you’re so funny, Ton.” 

“So I’ve been told,” he agrees but his eyes don’t leave you. 

You shift and peer around the restaurant. You already feel out of place here but with him, you’re even more uncertain. A clink brings your attention back to the table. 

“Come on, let’s loosen up,” he taps his glass against yours, “cheers.” 

“Cheers!” Your mother quickly scoops up her glass and knocks it against his. 

His smirk stays etched in his lips as he sips and you pick up your glass. You drink cautiously and squirm under his intense gaze. You wish he’d look away. Look at her! She’s the one you’re here for. 

[maiios]

My Rainworld AU: Dried AU!!

This au takes place after five pebbles' collapse but instead of endless snowstorms, the skies turn blazing hot and the once heavily rain filled terrain make for a heated wasteland in which all creatures (and iterators) have to learn to adapt to this new type of environment.

After gaining a second chance from being washed up ashore on the, once in tact, shaded citadel for cycles and saved by a familar explosive slugcat, he searches on a much contemplative and obligated journey to find his big sister, Looks to the Moon. He, begrudgingly, plans to apologize and try his hardest to make it up to her, if he even finds her alive, but first and foremost, he must learn to forgive himself, if he ever could.

A wandering iterator on the lookout for her lost brother, she has searched high and low for his puppet with companionship of the one who had repaired her systems with a, presumably stolen, rarefracture cell. Firstly, she has repaired her damaged puppet at her, once beautiful and flourous, city that laid on top of her submerged structure, which was currently easier to roam because of the water that covered the facility had since evaporated.

A gatherer and his companion, a hunter, with many purposed, deceased, organisms in their posession. He scours the land searching for objects and the like that spark an idea for whatever it is he plans to create for the iterator populace's benefit to give them a second, livelier chance at life that the anciets had stripped away from them.

Farther from the west of the outer expanses give way to one of the most dedicated researchers, set on find what else the world that they have been trapped behind in a can has hidden from them. Exceptional with the crossbow and spears provided by their trusty messenger, given the name Dusk, they set off to record and document everything about this new world. They seem to keep pearls containing poetry and artistry, with seemingly no interest in the matter, for unknown reasons that they refuse to share with anyone.

if anyone is interested and would like to learn more about my au, feel free to ask away in my askbox! id be willing to draw doodles/art for specific asks too :>

credit and thank you to my partner, @basilirl for helping me with the scug designs!!! <333 (i cannot design animal patterns at ALL)

credit to @lyss-butterscotch for the gjinka inspiration for the designs!! i was very inspired to many elements i absolutely adore about her designs to be able to make my own au!!!

[blueskittlesart]

What advice would you give beginner artists?

it's fine to want to do more stylized art, but nothing will help you improve quickly like studying from life. even if you want to draw very stylized figures, life drawing is still going to help you understand how the human body works and then you can build your stylization off of that understanding. I also recommend studying specifically things you're looking to improve--if you feel like your poses aren't dynamic, ask your model to do some quick (1-2 min) dynamic poses and work on getting the gesture down. if you're looking for anatomy, ask for longer, more static poses and really study the contours of the body. this also applies for portraiture and character art--my expressions and facial structure improved like CRAZY when i started doing portrait studies from life! (note: i know live model sessions aren't accessible for everyone. i'm a huge advocate for nude models, if you can find a studio nearby that's affordable to you that offers sessions, that's the best you're gonna get. however, there are sites that will give you photos of nude models to draw from, too, or you can even just ask friends or family to pose for you when they aren't busy, that's what i did before i started getting model sessions from my school!)

materials are not everything but sometimes a good material can make a difference. it's important to know what's worth it and what isn't for your skill level. invest in some decent-quality supplies or a good art program, but understand that you're still going to need to work to understand your materials and use them to their fullest potential. (if you're a digital artist buy csp. trust me on this. get it on sale. it will change your life. also do not fucking use photoshop)

tracing is ok. listen to me. TRACING. IS. OK. tracing is how you learn. don't trace other people's art and pass it off as your own, obviously, but there is literally no problem with tracing real-life reference photos. I routinely trace references for backgrounds and the like. there is no reason for you to kill yourself trying to make complex perspective and shit up from your head when you can very easily just overlay a photo and get what you need.

in that same vein, USE REFERENCE PHOTOS. find pics online or take pics of yourself and USE THEM to see how your poses work. it makes it SO SO SO much easier. the understanding that you need to create a pose out of nowhere will come with time but you're not going to get that skill unless you have a foundation of understanding how the real human body works, and the easiest way to get that understanding is by copying photos of real people.

last but not least, there's generally a sort of 'rulebook' that new artists are expected to go by, especially online, when it comes to digital art. when i was first learning, it was all about lineart and cell shading, two things that I didn't really like. Nowadays it seems to be all about rendering. the single most important thing i can tell you is if it sucks you don't have to do it. if you hate lineart just color your sketches. if you hate shading don't shade, or find a different way to shade that you enjoy more. if rendering is annoying or difficult for you DON'T BOTHER!! art is supposed to be fun. if part of your process is annoying or upsetting to you, cut it the fuck out. don't torture yourself just to do art the "right" way. i guarantee your art will look better when you're having fun making it anyway!

[decaying-enigma]

DP Crossover Prompt

DP x Harry Potter

Please bare with me as I begin:

We, as a collective, have established that it was Lily’s sacrifice, via when Voldemort killed her, that protected Harry and rebounded the Killing Curse back at Tom Riddle that night.

Yet, if I may take this a step even further. Some may ask, where did Lily possibly learn how to do this? Realistically, there’s no way that this magic was just something Lily invented, no matter how talented she was.

I am a little lazy, so it easier just to say she either found a book or scroll in the Potter library/vault or was somehow ‘mysteriously’ *Clockwork* led to find the ritual.

A very specific ritual that called upon the MONARCH OF THE INFINITE REALM to protect someone and place them under their rule.

This ritual was originally used by Parish Dark as an easy method to damning souls to eternal servitude as mindless drones in his army.

Lily didn’t see the eternal servitude part, as it was in the fine print, and honestly, who actually reads the fine print anyway. She did the ritual, but ‘accidentally’ mistranslated some words.

Who knew protection and adoption looked so similar in Ghost?

Anywho, by invoking the power of the Monarch of The Infinite Realm, Lily thought she put Harry under the Monarch’s rule and protection.

Which, if she translated it correctly, it would have. But since she didn’t….something else happened instead. Something incredibly unexpected.

For example, making a deal with the Monarch of The Infinite Realm to adopt her son.

Thus, enters a very confused and very tired Danny Fenton simply trying to get his college degree when, completely out of the blue, he can immediately recognize that he somehow just adopted an infant.

A actual human infant.

It’s a wizard and has magic, but still human for the most part.

*Cue Danny realizing this as a soul appeared in front of him*

Danny: “Fiddlesticks!”

*Immediately calls Jazz, the only Fenton with properly functioning brain cells*

Jazz: “What’s up?”

Danny: “I got another kid.”

Jazz: *Not even phased anymore* “What is it this time? Clone? Alternate timeline? Emotionally imprinted?

Danny: “A witch did a blood ritual invoking my status as Ruler of The Ghost Zone to save her kid’s life in exchange for eternal servitude. Now I kinda own her soul, and I sorta technically adopted her son.”

Jazz: 😐

Jazz: “…Huh. That is a new one. So when can I meet my new nephew?”

—————————

*Danny sending Harry off to Hogwarts*

Danny: “Okay, repeat everything I’ve said back to me.”

Harry: “If I ever see something dangerous, I shot it immediately then asks questions after.”

Danny: *nodding* “Good. What else?”

Harry: “If a evil person tries to make me their evil apprentice, I shoot them twice to be safe.”

Danny: “Better. And what if you discover someone is plotting to destroy the school or to use a powerful artifact to gain power and become immortal?”

Harry: “…I get the bazooka?”

Danny: *tears in his eye* “Your grandparents would be so proud of you.”

——————————

Requirements/Ideas:

-Harry will not, under any circumstance, stay with the Dursley’s (Not if Danny has anything to say about it)

-Lily will become a ghost/or shade that will help raise Harry. It takes a few year for her to fully form after dying and regain all of her memories.

-James Potter can either be fully dead or also become a ghost since his soul was technically involved with the bargain Lily made.

-Harry will be mostly raised by Danny, other ghosts, and the Fenton’s(debatable if you want Danny to have a good relationship with his parents) (#Dissection)

-Harry is not a Horcrux. None of that bullshit.

-Good amount of Dumbledore bashing, but not too much. Snape, on the other hand, will be crucified and nothing will change my mind.

-100000% see Danny as the Ultimate helicopter parent, but also be, like, super involved. I’m talking forming a Hogwarts PTA, randomly showing up to Harry’s Quidditch games and no one being able to stop him, and will for sure threaten anything remotely registering as a threat to Harry.

-Danny will become friends with Hagrid, and visit Hogwarts so Cujo and Fluffy can have play dates.

-Dani will be the Wine Aunt/older sister that randomly shows up sometimes. Clockwork is the fun grandpa that always gives out random fortune cookie advice. Dan is the weird uncle that likes to encourage mildly illegal activity whenever possible. And Vlad is just there.

-Daniel James Fenton/Phantom will not be nerfed in any way. My boy is the ruler of an ENTIRE DIMENSION. Ain’t no way some pasty dudes with sticks are gonna beat him or be even remotely close to his level.

You can fight me on this.

Like, Follow, and Share any suggestions!! Thx

[ambiguouspuzuma]

Algae

"I'm sure you've hard around the Bās system," she said, in faltering Human English: pronouncing hard rather than heard, and confusing around and about. But Objects in the Mirror gave her points for trying. Most emissaries would open in their own language, and just expect him to keep up.

"The solar flare? Yes, of course. Awful, awful news."

He folded his limbs in the Bās gesture for commiseration, and she reciprocated with an appreciative click. She wasn't indigenous Bāsic - not unless she was hiding a couple of arms under her gown - but emissaries were encouraged to adopt the planet of each posting as if it were their own.

"How long do they think until... you know?"

"Forty taons, more or less. A few more sons, and it will all be gone."

"A few generations," he translated. "It almost doesn't bear thinking about. Millennia of civilisation, and then the universe does this. I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

"I do speak Eastern Bāsic, if that's easier for you," Objects in the Mirror continued, wondering which would be her preference. She might have been born in the Com belt, from the shade and texture of her skin. "Or a few dialects of Comon. I was only on Earth for fifty taons, so I never went entirely native."

His correct guess was rewarded by another click, although her tone turned apologetic. "Sorry, is my ascent that strong? I grew up on Com-5, so Honsun is my baby tongue - but I'd like to perverse with Human, if you don't mind too much. It's good to have the practice."

"English it is." He smiled in the Human fashion, with his teeth instead of his eyes. "What else can I do for you?"

"As you will know, we have enjoyed sentries of peace. A perfect equilibrium. We spawn, we die, and our populations remain much the same. Our worlds remain much the same, held in balance to exactly meet our needs. But that balance has been tipped. This solar flare follows volcanic activity on Com-2, and soon we will be two worlds down. We will need new homes, and fast."

"I'm no terraformer," Objects in the Mirror said. "I'm a cultural researcher. I study the way things are, preserved, rather than changing what they might be."

"You know Earth," the emissary said. "If we have exhausted our own planets, we must look to bring others into the fold. Make our homes amongst them, if we can. You've been there, done it. Is there space?

"Space?" He chuckled at that. "Mankind abhors a vacuum. They can't see a blank page without filling it. Men are like a culture of algae, you understand. They'll always grow to fill their cell, their dish, and overflow if you forget to replace the lid. That's why we've kept them at arm's length. We want to keep the little that we have."

"They would take our homes? Destroy the rest of our balance?"

"They might not mean to, but yes." He crossed his various limbs in contemplation. "Not all of them, of course. You won't be familiar with their hobby of keeping bonsai trees, but they follow our approach to planets: looking inwards, all effort on perfecting what you have, and maintaining it in that state, as we do with our societies. But most men are more like weeds. They have no patience for perfection. Only growth drives them: more land, more wealth. More people. They breed like haraguti, and are never content in one place for long."

That concept was foreign to Com-5 as it was here. Objects in the Mirror knew that the emissary would have been raised with the same philosophy of life: home was home, and they would build it upwards before spreading out. All resources were devoted to improving the lot of their society, raising the baseline, no individual left behind, rather than expanding it - fighting wars whilst children starved at home, and leaving more misery in their wake.

Other than emissaries like her, researchers like him, there was little desire for citizens to leave their home systems, where everything was different to their tastes. A move to Earth would be a desperate measure, born of desperate times. But humans would colonise a barren rock as soon as they were given the means, just to see it done. Whatever the hardship, they would endure it, out of some driving need to overcome each barrier in front of them, and then the next, and then the next, whatever the personal cost.

"They've been on Earth a thousand years," she said. "They seem fairy content."

"Only because we've stopped them," he explained. "Their history is one of conquest. Every state has tried to spill over into its neighbours, taking from others and churning up their land, rather than building a paradise on their own soil. Every enterprise, whatever its success, chases constant growth and profit above preserving what they have. Do you know much about sharks?"

"Are they the ones with the tentacles?"

"No, but I suppose it doesn't matter. Aquatic predators. Big teeth. A man once told me that they need to keep moving or they die, and I think that men are the same. They're irrepressible, so we decided to repress them. We thought it better to keep them there." He paused. "Of course, could use a little irrepressible now."

"How do you mean?" the emissary asked. He wasn't sure if she meant that last point, or if he'd passed the limits of her vocabulary, in which case he'd have to repeat that whole thing. He took a gamble on the former.

"Are you familiar with concept of pioneer species? They're often seen as weeds, but they serve a vital ecological role. Fast spreading, fast reproducing, able to adapt to virgin land, terraforming it for others to follow. You get algae on an island first, and it creates the mulch for complex plants to grow in."

"Algae and weeds again," she said. "So what do you suggest? You said we can't go to Earth, because they will come to us."

"Or we could point them in the other direction, and see what else they find," he considered; arms still crossed, face still smiling. "Perhaps it's time to open the lid."

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Hiiii i just saw your Outsiders/Christine art and HOLY SHIT. When i say my jaw was on the floor it was on the floor. I’m a huge Stephen King fan (I’ve only read his books bc to me his books are good enough. I’m not a huge horror movie watcher girlie but i can do thriller/horror books. I have like 8 of his books, including Christine, on my bookshelf) and once again: HOLY SHIT. I can lowkey see the Outsiders trio as the Christine trio. Now whenever i go to reread the book, i can’t view it the same anymore haha. Another Outsiders/Stepehen King art idea for Halloween: 11/22/63. It’s one of my absolute favorite Stephen King novels. And if you haven’t read it, highly recommend it. It’s so intense and entertaining and i do get lost in that book. Anyways, HOLY SHIT. But i was also wondering if you have any tips for beginner digital artists? Like on layers, line art especially, shading etc.? I really want to get into more digital art but my tradional sketches lowkey look better than my digital ones haha. Whenever i see your stevepop or Outsiders art it just gives me a boost of inspiration. And i love them your honor.

Woah, thanks!! I’ll have to check it out- so far I’ve only read Christine and The Body (because my dad’s obsessed w/ Stand By Me), but I really dug both so I’m looking forward to it!

And as for digital art tips, I guess I’d say to keep things loose! I like to use a modified version of the Shale Brush on procreate for my sketches and lineart because it resembles a pencil, and the rough messiness makes it a whole lot easier for me to just relax and draw the way I do on paper. I don’t shy away from messiness especially in digital art- it makes things flow better in a medium that can get really stiff sometimes.

I like to do my sketches in bright colors, and I tend to assign every subject a certain color so I can tell them apart easily (idk how helpful it is, but it works for me!) Then I lower the opacity and draw on a layer on top like this:

Then I turn off the sketch layer and either fill everything in with base colors, or color it in grayscale w/ this Copic marker brush and varying levels of opacity for my comics.

As for shading, I do a combination of cell shading and painterly shading (picture for the uninitiated lol). Both have their merits, and shadows in real life usually include a bit of both.

For more simple stuff, I take a shade of either purple or sometimes magenta and cell shade everything with this pencil brush on a multiply layer, usually set to 30-ish% opacity depending on the drawing. Then I’ll blend it out a bit to soften some edges, which is what makes it look painterly. Also if you don’t know, “clipping mask” layers are really helpful for shading! You just put the shading layer over the colors and it stops you from going outside of the colors, it can be super helpful. This method is the one I usually use, and the one I’ve been using since I first started about five years ago now.

For the Christine poster specifically though I mostly just kept everything to one layer and color dropped from the reference, altering the colors as I saw fit- and just sort of guessed for Evie because she’s way tanner than Leigh and needed her own colors. The only times I used different layers were for each individual character so that they didn’t mess each other up, and also for the sketches, which I put on top of the colors but lightened the opacity on. Idk that I’d recommend this for a beginner tho, it’s taken me years to get comfortable working like this!

Sketch is set to a multiply layer here too. You can’t see it super well here tbh, because of how dark everything is, but oh well. Here’s a study I did last year with the same method tho! (Also she’s got some similarities to Evie huh?? I guess I have a type lol oops)

Anyhow, that’s probably enough for now lol- but lmk if there’s anything else you wanna know! And obviously this is just how I do things, there’s no hard and fast rules for any of this- I’m making it up as I go along, and you should too!!

[hurpdurpburps]

私、何のためにこんな必死に頑張ってるんだろう

Mostly writing this here as there are a lot of prying eyes on my IRL blog and I'm not very keen on the idea of any of those people poking their nose into my business.

The kneejerk instinct to run away from everything in my life has never been harder to suppress. At this point you could say I'm punching down on those thoughts like a twisted game of whack-a-mole.

Whatever mental capacity I have leftover that isn't already consumed by work is dominated by a longing of the past.

Running away to Canada was one of the best decisions I ever made in my life and every cell in my body yearns for another escapade.

Watching all my friends make progress with their personal lives - finding new jobs they love, getting married, buying homes, rediscovering new passions - makes feel me left behind.

And the greatest irony is that I don't even want any of those things, I have no interest in settling down or being a property owner. I take a lot of pride in being the best at my job and I don't hate the nature of it (just all the other parts that come with being part of a massive team coupled with serving one of the biggest clients from hell).

Everyone seems to be just doing what they want, and so am I, but somehow I find myself deeply unhappy and frustrated most days.

At the various injustices in our world - big and small. At how people often get what they don't deserve, and vice versa. At how trying to do the right thing the right way has hardly ever paid off. At how my parents go out of their way to point out that I am seeing next to nothing for my efforts, and how I have absolutely no words to rebuke them with.

I have exactly zero delusions of grandeur about how I could effect change in the grand scheme of things, but I feel like an utterly maimed and declawed tiger at how inconsequential my actions seem to be in changing my immediate environment.

Lately it just seems like life is hellbent on proving me wrong about all my decisions. I knew very early on that I would not, ever, be part of civil service - because I despise the hypocrisy and chronic incompetence that make up our establishment. But what do I get for sticking out in corporate? Being managed by ex-government imbeciles who have made it clear they're intent on stifling me, while being invited by a (very much trusted) ex-coworker to join them at a "rare team of empowered go-getters" at a Ministry for a 20% raise with 30% less work.

I have no intention of taking up that offer, because I know for a fact that teams get broken up and rotated every couple of years, and given my record of shit luck it would happen right as I joined.

And you know what really rubs it in? That my 'work-to-live' sister has somehow ended up a good many steps ahead of me on the career track, while 'live-to-work' me has been treading water in the same spot for eternity.

It would be a hell lot easier if I could just not care about certain issues, but it's that one part of my brain that I can't switch off. I have enough trouble sleeping as it is, I don't need more things to keep me up at night.

I spend my days cruising on autopilot: wake up > go to work > go home > eat then go to bed > rinse and repeat. On my days off, sometimes I manage to squeeze in a walk at the park, a meal out with friends, an afternoon of tea and reading, or working a bit on community projects that I enjoy, but lately there hasn't been much energy I could muster up enough of to do except sleep - and even that I'm not having much success with.

I love this world for all the sensory experiences it gives me: the sharp smell of ozone and violent flashes of white thunderbolts cutting through the clouds during a thunderstorm, the cool velvety sensation of silk sheets, the gradients in the sky at dawn or dusk that blend into a single shade as time passes, the deep caramel of a good cognac, the comforting and slightly coarse texture of a novel's rice-white pages crisply shuffling beneath my fingertips, the satisfyingly greasy crunch and juicy tenderness of my favourite tonkatsu at my usual lunch spot.

But recently even all these have failed to distract me from the lingering unease and inexplicable anxiety that has set up camp at back of my mind.

The sky seems a little more dull these days, and so are my taste buds. Games are now more tedious than fun. I have barely any interest in reading outside of what I have to for work, which is exclusively of the maybe-the-world-is-gonna-end-today variety. Tonight a coworker told me my sighs at work sounded stressed, while my mother helpfully emphasised last weekend how my eyes "look like you're going to die at your desk", whatever that means.

Some would say I'm experiencing symptoms of burnout, but I wish I was truly, completely burnt out, because right now I'm still going and I don't know how to stop.

I have a getaway planned for January - but that seems so far away, and some days I'm not sure if I even have the willpower to open my eyes again the next morning.

I wish time capsules were real, so I could stay in 2019 forever. Fooling around English Bay with my best friends, snapping shots of the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen, and only worrying about how much cheesecake we could fit into our stomachs after a 4-hour hotpot session.

Ending this rant with lyrics from a song that always reminds me of all the Canadian sunsets I spent by the water - hopefully I'll be able to live this life again someday.

Listen to me Cleave your way again, again 誓いの日々が最後に放つ未来 歪んだ空に描いた手のひら達が　頬を濡らす You’re not alone 今　灯火を抱け その闇にむけ

Listen to me Sail away again, again 未開の海に　海路を照らす願い 繋いだ声は 答えのない世界へと　帆を揺らす You’re not alone ただ 荒波を行け その闇を抜け

またいつかみんながこんなに会えるかな。

[k00295632]

Animation

Reinvention in story telling

Three Blind Mice, Epic/Historical, Space Age (1957-present)

Week 2, 15-19/04/24

Monday

Monday morning we did a short presentation on our project and our current concept, which was successful, and our official concept. Once that was done we went back to the studio to start storyboarding. While the rest of my team started storyboarding, I rewrote and edited our Frankenstein script into a proper finalised one.

Frankenstein script:

As you can see it was a bit messy.

Edited Script:

Tuesday

We were told our storyboards needed to be done by 12:30, so it was a race against the clock, we went through everyone's storyboards and picked out the compositions we liked and drew up some new ones to fill in the gaps.

As we went storyboarding we ended up editing bits of the script to make the storyboard more cohesive, like removing bits of dialogue and the mechanism of the door.

During the evening split again to do our visual research. We assigned ourselves different topics, I went off and researched astronaut suits, cave formations, and architecture.

After a bit of research we started sticking our research on the wall.

Thursday/Friday:

I looked at Gothic and Romanesque architecture to further aid our visual research.

I also looked at Antoni Gaudi's works for their pointed towers and organic shapes.

I also put together a quick mood board for how we want our aesthetic.

As a team we then had to agree on an art style for our animation, and we knew we wanted a style that commemorated the 70's, which is when we set our time period for the narrative, 3 years after the moon landing.

After some consideration we decided to combine Star trek the animated series and Akira together. We want to use the star trek face designs as our base and apply Akira's Cel shading, clothing folds onto the characters, and the cityscapes as a reference for how endless we want the metropolis to be. We think we can achieve some interesting results with it.

We split up again to focus on our individual tasks, mine being the space suits, metropolis designs, and figuring out cell shading.

I did some simple sketches of the astronaut suits and then simplified them even further on tracing paper to get the basic shapes. I did this to make whoever is doing the animatics life easier as they'll have a reference point.

I made a rough attempt at cell shading but it didn't turn out the way I wanted. I watched a quick video on it but that wasn't enough. I think the issue lies in the colours. I plan on watching some videos on Akira and how it was made, to get a better sense of it, and some studies on it too.

[megamindsupremacy]

Star Wars Fic Recs (Part 3)

Conviction by sassysnowperson

Obi-Wan Kenobi is accused of killing Chancellor Palpatine. The galaxy is hunting him.

So why did Bail decide to hide him in Breha's private medical suite?

"Breha," Bail pleaded. "If nothing else, we owe him."

-

I thought I fought this war alone by stonefreeak

Obi-Wan is thirteen years old, just about to start learning Ataru from his Master.

Obi-Wan is sixty-one years old, dead and one with the Force since four years back.

Obi-Wan is both, and neither.

-

Shades in the desert by loosinetters

Not even from a certain point of view did Darth Vader kill Anakin Skywalker. He wished he did, but the specter of the Jedi’s light escaped before he could finalize his fall to the dark. Meanwhile, Anakin is raising his son on Tatooine.

It would be easier if: 1) he weren’t a Force ghost nobody but his toddler could see and 2) Obi-Wan would stick around so somebody could teach Luke about the Force.

-

A Tale of Two Ahsokas by ileyna_sylph and merfilly

All Ahsoka (either of them) wanted in life was to make it all better. Sometimes, especially when a Force Avatar can bend the rules, wishes can be pushed through. Maybe.

-

Life has a way of rewriting the story by K_R_Closson

Obi-Wan Kenobi, failed Jedi initiate, never makes it to Bandomeer. Instead, she lands on Tatooine and has to figure out how to survive on a desert planet without losing her freedom.

When Anakin's destiny takes him to Coruscant and the Jedi, is this Obi-Wan's second chance? Or does her future lie elsewhere, with Jango Fett and his mysterious job on Kamino?

-

Our orbits unwind by elthadriel

CC-5052 climbed into CC-2224’s bunk sometime in the middle of the night cycle, and they slotted naturally together in a way that betrayed a familiarity that 24 didn’t remember forming.

“I dreamed about her again,” 50 said.

-

Back to you by ambiguously

Depa has spent more years than she can count locked in a small Imperial cell, until the day she's rescued by a small Rebel team.

-

stars sing my name,scars tell my story by whymylife (nabringa)

Anakin wasn’t sure how to ask, so he didn't.

Instead, he waited until Master Kenobi fell asleep and stayed up to tinker in the dark, building his own scanner out of parts stolen from the trash.

The chip was in his right thigh.

-

|free the hearts and rust the chains| by littlekarakan

There aren't many clones left in the Imperial Army. The ones that stay alive do so through methodical obeisance, resembling droids more than people.

Occasionally, some go rogue. There are stories of clones blowing up entire Star Destroyers for the Generals they killed themselves, stories of them awaiting execution and spitting curses at the officers for depriving the Galaxy of what should've become peace, stories of quiet, sobbed apologies in their sleep directed at the long-dead Jedi. Such clones, according to the Imperial Command, are not to be trusted.

Zhade-Ran doesn't trust her two bunkmates. Although perhaps not for the reasons she should.

-

Still dancing with your ghosts (sleeping with your memories) by jcp_sob_rlj_lmep

Everyone knows about the Massacre, and how no Jedi made it out alive.

The Jedi refuse to let anyone forget.

[placesyoucallhome]

Drunk wasps, wild turkeys and pokemon cakes. You live an interesting life.

mmm, bear with me here-

I've taken art classes since I was a kid, like traditional art training since the age of like, five. Mostly from the same guy, he was also my AP art teacher in highschool. But for a lot of that time my art was very... bland, flat. I was taught to draw what I saw, in a very literal sense, he wouldn't even allow us to take a picture of our subject matter to work on outside of class hours (mind you, there were no cell phone cameras then we were working off digital cameras mostly but that's beside the point). So, much of my art was also literal, leaves were greens, brick was red, water was blue. My art wasn't great, and I couldn't quite figure out why.

I also took art classes in college, whole different teacher, he admitted my technical skill was there, but I wasn't pushing things at all, and I really still didn't 'get' it. I eventually got to an oil painting class, and again my technical skill was there, but it fell flat.

Until one assignment. He set up a still life, basic, I couldn't tell you how many damn still lifes I've done, but this one was only in greys. Every single item was a flat shade of grey, and our assignment was 'paint in color'. It took me a bit, to see it, and I won't say that I got it immediately right then, but it started to click. Literally, those vases and boxes were grey, and that wasn't the point, the point was choosing to see the colors in that. There's the golds of the sun through dirty skylights, the copper bouncing up from the cheap flooring, the blue shining from the jacket of the kid falling asleep in the front row. Once you think to look for it, you can see the bouncelights and colors, there's a rainbow in even a white wall, I would know, I painted one.

My point is, life is bland, painfully so, or worse, its stressful, painful. One can see things literally, in dull shades, that tree in the yard invites bugs, living near the metroparks means local forest wildlife, a lot of my 'art' nowadays is done in buttercream, and everything is... boring.

Or, you can find the color in the little things, like the ridiculousness of the fact that apparently local herds of deer like to get drunk off fermenting ornamental pears in our front yard, or the comedy of trying to find a way to explain what the hell Mewtwo is to a coworker that's never played pokemon.

I write and present things the way I do because, I choose to see the colors in mundane things. It doesn't make living less painful, but it can make it easier to bear.

[mymadmedleyw]

Based on @sailor-toni ‘s ‘Phandom Author Introduction‘

“I want to meet more Phandom authors/writers so I made this introduction form for people to use. Once you're done reading make your own and tag me in it.”

(also @pennerjones tagged me in it, so I am doing this finally... :D)

---

Name: Allison or Alice

Cat or dog person: I tolerate(d) only my pets - but actually I think I am neither

Favorite Fic from the Phandom: Deliverance from @thelightningstreak

Favorite character from the show: depends, but I think my all-time favourite free-time activity is to explore Dan - I do not talk about that episode though, I hate it as much as I love it, blame the poor logic in that

Favorite genre to write: Angst (seriously I can’t even do Fluff without Angst)

Current Wips: huh... (I’ll write some as series, because it is easier that way)

- What The Past Holds (only the epilogue is missing; Dan-redemption focused)

- Green and Gold (series; in what Dan and Dani, as siblings, are trying to start living a normal life)

- fate written in the sky (series; DarkAges story, ‘Human’ AU - in a way no one would have imagined anyone would write them - fyi: I do)

- My daughter, my perfect base (multi-chaptered work; I’m adding it here because I am considering to continue working on it again; Dani’s creation)

- Lightness of Dark (soon... DarkGray once it’ll be)

- death and death again, clockwise (Human AU, entirely else intake on DA or on DP world, hard to define)

Link the story you are the proudest of: WTPH (even though, it requires a bit of editing but that’s my child, growing up to so big by now...)

Share a small part of that story: (I couldn’t choose from WTPH, so then instead, here is a snippet from my InvisoBang story - Down The Rabbit Hole)

“How… how did she get down here?” Mom stuttered a minute later like a stuck-in cassette tape, looking like she had seen a ghost.

Dad slightly lifted his head, clicking some buttons and cautiously checking the swirling in the wall after each movement – as if refusing to take his eyes off it, fearing to miss its reaction. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, voice rough with anger and frustration.

“But…” Mom stammered, and then her vision shifted toward the green water in the wall, consciousness returning to her expressions. She awed, gaped. “It’s sentient… The other realm is sentient, and it’s reactive to nearing...”

“Madeline!” Dad’s warning reached the woman before she could have made a step ahead.

Even if her father stopped her mother, it couldn’t cease the reeling in Dani’s mind. She stared at the greenness a few feet away from her. It moved in a stir. The vibrant colour shades like tendrils shifted into the other in a scale, from the brightest translucence to the darkest emerald. She felt the longer she looked at it, the more her eyes reflected the colour, and in response, the more the hues changed their ways and slipped toward her.

Dani had no idea what her Mom had meant by “reactive”, but she didn’t wish to figure it out. Slipping her legs on the floor, Dani tried to get away – even though it seemed impossible and her mind deeply blended into the sight of the dizzying view.

Something, like a sick siren song, told her that it was a part of her and that she belonged inside. The more Dani forced her mind to get away, the more it shrieked at her growing distance, inch by inch. Dani wondered whether she even managed to move away from it or instead, towards it.

It was a mad game – Dani could at least grasp that – like trying to escape from the inevitable. She felt weightless against it, light-headed like after having her blood drawn…

No – she internally shook her head – for real, she felt every cell in her body (if it was possible to describe such a thing), floaty and lightweight. Scared, Dani looked at herself, confused, mind skipping the next thought at the sight that her fingers seemed to glow.

---

Tag your Favorite authors in the Phandom: beyond the ones who were already tagged by others (and beyond the author of my favourite collection-writer, I’m adding here the ones whose fics I really enjoy reading) @dp-marvel94 @skellagirl @jadenoryuu @danny-phantom-writings @mistical52 @asjjohnson

[leonkidfmp]

Cell shading

Cell shading is the use of rendering to give off a really cartoony look and is used to replicate the look of comics and cartoons and create a more unique, stylized and, animated appearance.

Cell shading would be a really cool thing to add to my game, as it makes small detail on models unnoticeable, making my life easier when modelling as I don't have to add small details

I originally came up with the idea while listening to Smell of the game, which is a song from the game Guilty gear Strive

Guilty gear strive has a really cool cell shader artstyle which I plan to replicate to the best of my abilities.

[legaciestold]

@everythingheard​ (for bruce from rachel)

it had been so much easier to see things in absolutes before aliens rained from the sky and the man she had thought she loved turned upon everything he stood for and been consumed with villainy. locked in a jail cell among the very people he’d put inside. she had been so idealistic and young when bruce had returned, so sure of right and wrong and the need to live in the light. she couldn’t reconcile the boy she’d run around the manor with with the dark knight that had drug his sister into a life in the shadows. (though, even rachel at her core could admit there was no talking kara into anything, she’d made her own choice and that choice just so happened to line up with her brother’s path.) with the man who’d become hardened and brutal in his quest to strike fear into the city’s underbelly. fear. fear couldn’t solve the cities’ problems. but harvey’s quest, standing up to criminals in the light of day, had purpose, had potential. she had immersed herself within it and existed behind a vault of blindness. not that she still did not believe in the quest, but, her eyes had been awoken to a very many shades of grey since those days. 

zod had attacked their world and powered people escaped the shadows. jokers reigned terror and bruce had led gotham through floods. him and kara had become symbols not of fear but of hope and rachel had seen what she had not allowed herself to before. bruce had evolved, grown, but the bruce that tugged on her hair to get her attention when they were young was still a part of him. she could see it in his quest to repair his family’s name. in the way he took dick grayson in as his own. in his conviction to aid in reforms at arkham and help rehabilitate those who resided within it’s walls. yes a part of him could be brutal but he still held hope for those he fought. she could see it in the way that he worried about a sister who proved fully capable of protecting herself. she could see it in the way he had sat at alfred's side in the hospital after the explosion. and now, in the wake of harvey’s trial and superman’s death with forces beyond their comprehension just past the horizon rachel finally comes to him at the manor, sharing a look with alfred before she’s making her way to the room bruce is in. alfred had told her when bruce, dick, and kara had returned from superman’s funeral. 

this world was not the one they’d grown up in and it’s a wonder how anyone was coping in the wake of what had transpired in metropolis. footfalls echo throughout the room, rachel coming to a stop just inside the doorway before shutting the door. all their moments in recent history have been so fully charged with chaos and tension, with her in danger from an alien battle or flooding waters, with two friends sitting in a hospital with alfred’s life in the balance, with her kidnapped and strapped to a bomb that kara had very nearly failed to protect her from that they’ve never had time to truly sort out where they stood. maybe she hadn’t been ready yet. she was now. yet what that would look like she wasn’t sure. 

“i want you to teach me to fight. self-defense.” she begins, unsure why that’s the first item on the agenda she broches. “not that it’ll help me if we have another alien invasion. god, i still can’t believe i’m even saying that. aliens. metahumans. and now superman’s gone.” there’s a pause as she allows the weight of that statement to linger. she hadn’t known superman but rachel had always been close with kara and she knew the impact his death had on her, and, she knew bruce felt the loss too. 

“--but if i’m going to be the new district attorney and connected to bruce wayne i think i ought to be able to at least prevent my own kidnapping.” she never wants to feel as powerless as she felt when crane had drugged her or when she’d been in that warehouse with bombs around her again. another step is taken forward, followed by another until she’s nearly reached him-- standing just a mere foot away from him. they haven’t spent any significant time together in so long, haven’t been this close to each other even when he’d used his limo to save her from press after harvey’s sentencing because lex had been there with him too. 

a part of her wants to reach out though she doesn’t, not yet. maybe she’s waiting for him to meet her half-way. for them, in the wake of everything, to make this choice together. “of course, that’ll mean i’ll be spending a fair amount of my free time here, with you, when you’re not out there.” she motions outside the window. there’s a weight to what she says, words unspoken between the lines but implication clear. she’s taking the first step, making a choice to accept being in his life again and all that entailed.

[rielzero]

Personal question based off your recent posts on games: Do highly saturated games bother your eyes as well? An example of this would be Genshin Impact. It's not realistic, but it's incredibly bright colored with a lot of elemental effects.

Looking at this screenshot and from my impression when I played it on the release day..

This has similar coloring style to breath of the wild. It isn't high contrast, the light / textures aren't hyper-detailed, therefore the particle-detail effect isn't overloading my eyes. It may be bright, but everything has a distinct balance when it comes to light. However, the blue sky COULD affect my eyes if the sun light would make it more intense like in real life. (I don't feel any eyestrain looking at the screenshot)

It is bright, but easier to handle with blue light glasses. It doesn't do the thing that bothers me about hyper realistic shading.

If you look at any scene during forbidden west, every location has a sense of fog, distance, shading, light reflection, high contrast, and every part of the game has super detailed textures. It's pretty intense. Compared to that, Genshin impact is flatcolor with cell shade.

(also in case you're wondering, I'm not really into gacha, but what turned me off mostly is the sidekick character's voice, I love the character designs and concept, but it's not a game I enjoy playing.. I appreciate the art a lot though.)

As for aesthetic comparison to BOTW

BOTW is slightly desaturated compared to Genshin, but the shading and texture concept is similar. BOTW seems to have more shading here in the background- but the simple textures and lack of realistic particle bounce effects aren't aggressive to my eyes. Regardless, playing it for multiple hours does tire me easily.

TLDR: Cell shading doesn't hurt me as long as all the textures has a sense of flatness rather than hyper realism.