#tried to do a different rendering style this time

[vvictorik]

random hq!! character art challenge (bc im trying to get better at digital) day 2: kenma!

time elapsed: 29min

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[skrrtscree]

Just a call away... 🦋💙

[chrometheraptor]

It’s not that difficult to get your head around

You’ll never meet another me

[loopyarts]

How did I get roped into doing another painterly piece with Ichiji and completely line-less no less. Not that I am mad about it because it was overall an enjoyable challenge to do and while not perfect I had fun making this piece. :3c

[tarobii]

have a blueberry!

[wickworks]

Lancer Tactics dialogue layout crisis of faith

(from this month's backer update)

Every so often, I'll run into something in development that eats away at me until it pushes me to a crisis of faith and I have a breakdown, burn down a bunch of work, and build something better from the ashes. These are moments of transformation and we're almost always able to come out the other side with something much better than what we started with.

This all sounds very dramatic until you take a step back and see the issue in question is just, like, the layout of a menu. But if medieval priests were able to have schisms over angels on pins I can have strong feelings about graphic design, dammit!

This month's episode revolved around how we're doing character dialogue. For reference the plan was to do a standard 4-slot visual-novel talking heads layout. I call it a 4-slot because there's usually four positions that characters can stand; two on the left, two on the right:

I had it ingame, and it was working. But... something felt off. Do you see the difference between every one of the above examples and this?

It's all about perspective, baby.

Answer: all the character art in those examples are drawn at a slight angle so they can be flipped back and forth to be made like they're looking at each other.

Trying to do this with the perspective we chose early — straight on — makes for a chorus line of weirdos who are looking directly into your soul as they ostensibly chat with each other. Credulity is strained; the illusion of these puppets interacting in the same space is paper-thin.

(I was skeptical of choosing this perspective for this reason, but we ultimately went with it to make the customizable assets in the portrait maker easier to fit together)

We tried a bunch of different layouts, but they all at least one of these problems:

they'd stare into your soul while ostensibly directing comments elsewhere.

they felt like text messages; this would be fine if that's what we were going for, but we wanted something that could represent face-to-face conversations. (Tactical Breach Wizards was able to pull this style off because they had little 3D dioramas to go along with it)

or, most damning of all, they felt like zoom calls.

So, my heart aflutter and spirit in want, I spent a day doing a research dive into various dialogue layouts (bless the Game UI Database!) to see if any other games had managed to pull this character art perspective off. I ended up with this massive non-chronological taxonomic tree:

(fullsize here)

The type of layout that particularly caught my eye was this style where each character had their own little box. These layouts borrow a concept from comic books called "closure" where the space and time between characters are left blank. Freed from the constraints of trying to simulate a single space, these layouts allow the reader to fill in the blanks with something that feels more true-to-life than anything we'd be able to render ourselves.

I was especially impressed with the dynamism of Tales of Symphonia and The World Ends With You; rather than sticking to single slots they would animate the entire panels moving around to indicate motion an relative position of characters.

So we threw out the old code and copied them. Here's what we've come up with:

We'll be able to have portraits interact, like smacking each other (I felt like a kid hitting two action figures together, lol)

We can also apply effects like princess-leia-holograms and full-screen "lighting" effects like warning banners:

Carpenter and I came up with a number of arrangements that the portraits can smoothly transition between:

I've also implemented support for choices during a dialogue, potentially leading to branching paths.

Overall, I feel SO much better about this system than our initial designs. It might feel a little more cartoony, but I think we're making a cartoony game so that's not a problem.

Whew. We bit a lot off to chew with this project. I feel like I just made a second visual novel game engine inside of the first. Fingers crossed that it all ends up worth it.

[ghostinggg3299]

So JJK is over and my LMK brainrot is back , added with the fact i am playing a MOBA game and am being blessed with delicious illustrations it prompted me to make this

Now i am going to ramble about this because this is the first time in forever where i kinda pushed myself to make a FULL art piece-

I will be standing for this-

Let me tell you, i had no confidence in this and the composition was supposed to be way different, but this still happened. This took two days because i kept procrastinating , walking around my room dreading drawing the background BIG ADVICE FOR BEGINNER ARTISTS Watch speedpaints. You will learn so much by watching the process and that was this for me I have the tendency to kinda burn myself out and finish everything in a day and then never actually finishing. Tried something different for this and made a cheap silhouette of a sketch, then drew over that and used greys and whites fort the shadows. Then i think i colored everything in a base color (and i finally used a palette) and then i tried to find the lighting and shadow colours. It was weird. And what im saying is that i planned most of it instead of diving head in withour a plan. Crazy i know-

I also just learned about dpi PROPERLY and unfortunately made my piece so big that it kept stalling paint tool sai-

let me just post the progress shots

I also fucked up macaques reference and fixed it in a whim somewhere. You can see it here. I honestly wasn't planning to follow the lmk at style but that kinda happens when you're starring too much at the references.

There's still a mess and i wanted to render it a bit better ,the way i normally do but i didn't. Anyways i did enjoy the process and i actually miss them so much and i might watch LMK all over again Especially Wukong and MK

Btw this was supposed to be a moving illustration and i just didn't

I have Live2D but no

(Btw please check out my profile if you have the chance and thank you for reading this! Love you-)

[libbytwq]

so. i created humanoid designs for beeg smg4 and eggdog ,,

im trying to get better at drawing little kids and make them look like. kids

also tried something a lil bit different with the rendering style, not that you'll notice

they are such small babies i love them

the stepbrothers of all time

notes below:

was gonna draw other sketches of beeg and eggdog interacting with smg4 and smg3 and doing lil shenanigans together but. tired

[remxedmoon]

do you think you could explain how you do your shading/rendering :o? i'm so curious (specifically with the binary brush, if it makes any difference in how you do it)

hey hey! thankyou for the question!!! i’ll admit i’m not very good at explaining things (like. at all) but! tried my best 👍 (also super sorry anon this ask is from months ago. if i didn’t respond to your ask it’s probably just been sitting in my drafts taunting me for months)

^ this is what i do most of the time when drawing characters! generally i use rounder shapes while blocking out shadows, and you can do as many layers of this as you want! i generally don’t do highlights unless im shading darker colors (like the party’s black hair or isabeau’s sweater). i also usually shade the top half of the face! because it looks nice to me :3

^ aaaa idk how well i’m explaining this?? this is just something i Do, i didn’t really pick it up from anywhere (i mean. i didn’t pick up the hatching from anywhere either but yknow). with things like mirabelle’s hair, i do this process, but block in the highlights instead of the shadows. if you want a better example, here’s some of the rare process pics i have from a drawing i finished recently

also! going to answer an ask from. october. that’s somewhat related to this? just because i know i’ll never get to it otherwise

so i’ve genuinely been spending months trying to figure out how to answer this and the short answer is: yes absolutely you are allowed to take inspiration from my art style oh my god thank you so much and also: i can’t give tips here i’m so sorry.

i don’t really. know?? what my thought process is?? i’ve been drawing for so long that i rely more on muscle memory and what “feels right” to me. i didn’t really choose my art style, i just stumbled on it by accident. i wish you luck though, thankyou so much again!!!

(ALSO IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME 3 MONTHS TO RESPOND TO THIS ANON)

thankyou for all the compliments, hope this helps a little!!!

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I Knew You in Another Life, You had that Same Look in Your Eyes

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Throughout the flagship series

Warnings: Self harm; Allusions to Abuse; Poorly written smut (kinda); Allusions to canonical character death

Summary: It all started with a smile.

A/N: I have been having trouble finding time to write recently. When I do have time, I’m either too tired or just don’t have the desire. I know it’s not what people are waiting for, but here’s some fluff. Rambling, really. Anyway, here it is. I love you all and I'll update Blood Ties and other things as soon as I can.

It was his smile. 

From the moment he smiled at you for the first time, you knew you were his. Daryl didn’t just smile at anyone. No, he had a look he gave that was a near grimace to signal he was content or appreciative, and folks were lucky to get that. There was a time you could be counted among those fortunate few. 

At the quarry, you barged into his space, intent on arguing with him, but your foot got caught in the strap of his bag and you tumbled into his tent face first, muttering every colorful word in the English language. You had one hundred percent expected him to harshly admonish you for your uninvited entrance, but he didn’t. Nor did he laugh. When you looked up at him—your face red, hair askew—you found him smiling. A smile that was inches from a chuckle that had been held at bay, but still—a smile. 

You felt like even more of a fool then, for falling on your face. And for the way the fluttering of butterflies in your tummy could be seen stark naked in your expression. You had entirely forgotten what you had initially come to say to him. 

From that moment, Daryl Dixon held your heart. 

It was your smile. 

Daryl had never been a man who put much stock in love. It was a silly, pointless notion that only allowed the heart to open long enough to be crushed more easily. He had never even really found himself attracted to anyone, much less interested in them enough to entertain the idea of loving them—or the idea of them loving him. 

Then you came along. From the moment you stepped out of that truck that was meant to bring back his brother, he knew he was a goner. He tried to fight it, told himself that he was being an idiot, that Merle would call him a pussy and damnit, the man would be right. 

It didn’t take long for you to wiggle your way past his defenses. Though he had been watching you warily, keeping his distance when he could, he could have never predicted the moment you would render him undone. You were doing your laundry alone by the fencing toward the edges of the Greene farm. He had truthfully wandered into your space to scold you about being there alone. But a single wasp had a different idea. 

It landed on your hand just as you reached toward the water, garment in your soft grip. He opened his mouth to speak, flinching when you screeched and threw the clothing. Your panties hit him square in the face and, like a fool, he lifted a hand and caught them as they fell. Words fled, embarrassment raged. His mouth moved like a gaping fish but then you were smiling. You didn’t laugh at him, didn’t make fun. You apologized and approached, gently extricating the fabric from his hand, your smile steadfast. 

And from that moment, he was fucked. 

You were watching Daryl discuss a particularly dangerous run with Rick. He was standing by the gate, hands on his hips while you were perched at one of the picnic style tables with Carol at your side, a basket of laundry and a tub of water at your feet. 

You were hardly paying attention to what you were supposed to be doing, continually stealing glances. 

And then he caught you. 

Your hands froze on a pair of jeans, the fabric dripping into the tub, your eyes widening. You were unable to look away. Whether he was in the same predicament or was just simply challenging you was unclear. 

Until he smiled. 

You damn near melted and he knew it. There was a heat that started in your cheeks, spreading down your neck to your chest and all the up to the tips of your ears. You swore you could feel it on your scalp. 

When he finally chose to stop making your pulse race, switching his gaze back to the map in Rick’s grasp, you exhaled, wondering if you had breathed at all. There was a chuckle beside you, Carol’s head turned away while her shoulders bounced. You muttered a quick shut up and nudged her with your elbow, aggressively scrubbing at the jeans. 

Shaking her head, Carol also returned to the task at hand. “Oh, sweetie. You’ve got it bad for that man.”

You couldn’t disagree. 

His eyes flitted up to your approaching form, and he quickly wiped the remaining ashes from the top of his hand. Clearing his throat and wiping his eyes with his forearm, he fixed you with a weak glare. 

“Cut it out. I already know.” You slid down the side of the trunk, shoulder to shoulder with him, presenting an open palm. “Let me see.”

Daryl felt his chest tighten. You had seen the scars given to him when he was a boy, but those weren’t self inflicted. He had added to the collection on his own—a few times more than he cared to admit. But he knew you. Caring yet determined. You wouldn’t relent until you got what you wanted. Heaving a sigh, he reluctantly placed his hand where you beckoned for it. 

“Ain’t nothin’.”

“Don’t do that.” You answered without a single ounce of hesitation. “Don’t act like your pain doesn’t matter.”

“It don’t.” He rasped, feeling the sting threatening his waterline. “Not when ev’ryone else is sufferin’ too.” When he tried to retract his hand, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged it back, a hell bent expression on your pretty features. 

“That’s bullshit, Daryl.” You held his gaze for longer than he was entirely comfortable with given your proximity. Grunting, he turned his head but let you hold onto his hand. “This’ll likely scar.” You finally said so sadly that he couldn’t help but look at you again. 

“Ain’t like I ain’t got a few already.” He couldn’t seem to look away. Daryl had admitted to himself long ago that he was stuck on you. He didn’t love easily, didn’t know how, but for you, he was willing to learn. And the way you were looking at him in that moment was giving him that fluttering sensation in his chest that he had grown accustomed to when you were close. 

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth and promptly back up. He was filled with such a foreign hope, wishing that he could feel the softness of your lips, even if only once. You cleared your throat. “I know this is hardly appropriate, but I really wanna kiss you right now.”

He blinked. There was no way he heard you correctly. “What?” He said after a moment that lasted altogether too long, his eyes squinted. He could have slapped himself. Wasn’t he just thinking of how badly he wanted to do the same thing? Maybe he could fix it before you changed your mind, say something to encourage you to continue. “Well? G’on then.” Daryl inwardly sighed. He would have been better off keeping his trap shut. 

But then your soft palm was on his cheek, your plump lips pressing against his. His eyes shot wide while yours fluttered closed, his fingers closing around the hand that still held his. It was so simple to ignore the burn of his self inflicted injury. He allowed himself to melt into your ministrations, his blue orbs mimicked yours, mouth following your lead. It was uncomplicated but exhilarating. When he pulled back, your thumb stroking beneath his eye, your lips remained puckered, eyes still closed. 

When the bright pool of your gaze finally reappeared, your mouth opened to reveal all your teeth in a gleaming smile. “Wow.”

But Daryl didn’t hear you, mesmerized by your expression. That smile was always his undoing.

And he found he didn’t mind in the slightest being repeatedly unraveled. 

Alexandria was never going to be safe. You both knew it. Still, it was the safest you had been since the prison, especially with your group now behind its seemingly infallible walls. Jobs assigned, routines established, and residences assigned, maybe it could be home if nothing else. 

You and Daryl had requested one of the smaller houses, all to yourselves. Everyone knew you were close, but they were all ignorant to that moment in the woods, how you had thrown caution to the wind and had been so pleasantly rewarded. There were no other kisses since then, things too busy, too new to let your guard down so quickly. Everyone was at a gathering that night, knowing full well that Daryl would never attend. They might come looking for you, though. 

You wouldn’t be answering the door.

Daryl’s lips were blazing a wet trail down your neck, across your collarbone. One large hand held yours next to your head while the other gripped your waist. You arched up into him, encouraging both his mouth and the rolling of his hips, the gentle push and pull that was grazing him across your most sensitive walls. This dance had been slow, in both anticipation and execution, a gradual joining that you could savor in tandems of breathy moans and featherlight kisses. There was no reason to rush. No reason at all.

After you had both ascended to the pinnacle of ecstasy and drifted back down, you lay with his head on your chest, your fingers whispering up and down the length of his spine. He was so relaxed, breaths deep and even, that you thought he might have drifted off.

“What are we?” His voice was raspy, quiet, but not panicked. He wasn’t tripping over any thought of emotion he might convey. That said a lot for Daryl Dixon. Still, you were taken by surprise.

“What do you want us to be?” You brushed the hair away from his forehead before your fingertips explored his jaw. He snorted, though it was weak.

“Just made that obvious, didn’t I?” 

He did. You hadn’t thought about it so deeply until then. Daryl wasn’t the type of man to strip himself bare, both literally and figuratively, for just anyone. He would never let just any woman touch his scars so intimately and not flinch. Angling your neck, you pressed a kiss into his hairline. 

“I’m yours, Daryl.”

When he lifted his head, shifting onto his elbow beside you, his free hand was already brushing away your sweat-damp hair. Watching you with a gaze so deep, seemingly bottomless, the corner of his mouth raised tentatively, one side and then the other. A smile so soft, so genuine, that your heart nearly swelled too large to beat adequately behind your ribs. 

Clearing his throat, he ducked his head, the smallest flash of teeth before that upward curve of his lips disappeared. “Ya mean that?” 

“With all my heart.”

They only made it a couple of miles before Daryl was forced to let Jesus take the wheel, so to speak. The Hilltop runner was managing the bike well enough while the archer simply tried to stay awake, the constant abuse his body and mind had suffered finally able to culminate to the surface when he was free of the Sanctuary. Everything ached, inside and out. He was exhausted, ready to go home. 

Ready to see you. 

Had you been spared Negan’s wrath? Had the tyrant discovered your ties to Daryl and used them against you? Made you pay for them? Were you safe? Were you even alive?

“You can’t go back to Alexandria.” Jesus called over his shoulder. Daryl shifted uncomfortably with a grunt. He was never one to ride on the back of the bike. 

Unless it was with you. 

“They’ll be looking for you there.” The bike slowed to a stop, Jesus calling out to someone. It was then Daryl saw Hilltop’s walls, his stomach twisting with an anxiety just below the surface. 

“Need to go back.” He rasped, nearly coughing from the scrape against his vocal chords. His voice clearly suffered from the lack of use. “Need to see—”

The gates opened to reveal Maggie and Sasha. Just behind them—was you. He should fall onto his knees in front of Maggie, beg her forgiveness. 

But forgiveness would have to wait. 

He didn’t even wait for Jesus to dismount, uncharacteristically clambering off the back and into an unsteady beeline straight for you. You were already running toward him. Your voice was crying out his name in disbelief, in hopeful relief. It was mere seconds before you reached him, just enough time for his tired legs to buckle. You willingly went down with him, both sets of knees hitting the dirt as you clung to him. 

“You’re alive. Thank god, you’re alive.”

He could feel the fine tremors vibrating your form, the jerks of your shoulders as you sobbed. You should never cry. Negan would pay for making you cry. “Yeah, m’here, Sunshine.” Daryl returned your embrace with as much strength as he could muster, given his poor condition, and held on until you pulled back, your tearful gaze roaming over his person, pausing on every bruise, every laceration. 

“What did they do to you?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

He shook his head. “Didn’t break.” He backed the words with a confidence he found buried deep within, surprised he had any left after his ordeal with the Saviors. “Didn’t let ‘em break me.”

You smiled then, through your tears, and began brushing his dirty hair away from his face. “Not even a question, Bowstrings.” He didn’t hear you. He was too focused on that smile—the smile that brought him such a feeling of peace, of love. He let you guide him upright, staggered along behind you, your hand in his. Every few seconds, you looked over your shoulder, still smiling. 

Everything would be okay. 

You watched him from across the way while sitting on the porch of your home in the Commonwealth. Daryl had taken a vital role in the community after Pamela had been removed from power. Everyone had fallen into some role, but Daryl was important. He had a hand in everything. 

Carol had taken Lance’s role, organizing trade and alliances and just simply keeping the community running from behind the scenes. While Daryl refused a seat on the council, his voice was in every ear, his opinion weighing on every heart when decisions were made. 

With Mercer stepping down as head of the guard, Daryl assisted in the training of new recruits. The process of selecting the guards was much different than it had been before, thanks in large part to the man you now called your husband. 

Watching him now—lifting RJ onto his shoulders, holding him steady with a hand on the boy’s leg while his other arm encircled Judith’s shoulders—you were whole. You were happy. 

He noticed you staring—of course he did—and he smiled, lifting his chin in a nod while he and the children walked toward home. 

Home. 

That’s where you were. It’s what you felt. It was in Daryl all along. In his eyes, in his arms, in his smile. 

Daryl was home. 

[morlock-holmes]

Okay, guys, after reading a post by @centrally-unplanned I just took that ACX "AI Turing Test" that Scott Alexander did, and I am screaming, as the kids used to say.

You guys are way, way overthinking this.

I thought I would do better than average, and I guess I did; excluding three pictures I had seen before, I got 31/46 correct.

Not great if you're taking the SAT, but I feel like if I could call a roulette spin correctly 2 times out of 3 I could clean up in Vegas.

So, what is the secret of my amazing, D+ performance?

You have to look at the use of color and composition as tools to draw the eye to points of interest.

AI is really bad at this, when left to its own devices.

For example, here:

Part of the reason to suspect that this is AI is the "AI house style" and the bad hands that I literally only noticed right this exact second as I was typing this sentence. Even if the hands were rendered correctly, I would still clock this as AI.

The focal point of this piece ought to be the face of the woman and the little dragon she is looking at (Just noticed the dragon's wings don't match up either), but take off your glasses or squint at this for a second:

Your eye is being drawn by the bright gold sparkles on the lower right side of the piece. That particular bright gold is only in that spot on the image, but there's no reason to look there, it's just an upper arm and an elbow. The bright light source highlighting the woman's horn separates it out as a point of interest.

Meanwhile, the weird aurora streaming out of the woman's face on the left side means that it is blending in with the background.

In other words, the way the image is composed, and the subject matter suggest that your eye should be drawn here:

But the use of color suggests that you should look here:

That's a senseless place to draw the eye towards! It would be a really weird mistake for a human to make! In fact, I think there's a strong argument that the really close cropped picture of the face of the character is a strong improvement. It's still not a particularly good composition, but at least the color contrast now draws the eye to the proper points.

In fact, I would say that a good reason for my performance not being even better was this alarming statement at the start of the test:

I've tried to crop some pictures of both types into unusual shapes, so it won't be as easy as "everything that's in DALL-E's default aspect ratio is AI".

Uh...

So how about this one:

This is a lot better anatomically and in terms of the use of color and light to draw the eye towards sensible parts of the painting. The lighting makes pretty good sense in terms of coming from a particular direction and it also draws the eye to effectively to the face and the outstretched hand of the figure.

It's also a really flat and meaningless composition and subject matter that no renaissance artist would have chosen. What is this angel doing, exactly? Our eye is drawn to the face and hand, and the figure is looking off towards the left side, at, uh, what exactly?

But then I thought, "Well, maybe Scott chopped out a giant chunk of the picture, and this is just a detail from, like, the lower right eighth of some giant painting with three other figures that makes total sense"

This makes sense as a piece of a larger human made artwork, but if you tell me, "Nope, that's the whole thing and this is the original, un-cropped picture" I'd go, "Oh, AI, obviously.

All of the ones I had trouble with were AI art with good composition and use of color, and human ones with bad composition and use of color. For example, this one:

This has three solid points of interest arranged in an interesting relationship with different colors to block them out. I'd say the biggest tells are that the astronauts' feet are out of frame, which is a weird choice, and looking closely now, the landscape and smoke immediately to the right of the ship don't really make sense.

But again; I had to think, "Maybe Scott just cropped it weird and they had feet in the original picture."

Here's another problem:

StableDiffusion being bad at composition is such a known problem that there are a variety of tools which a person can use to manually block out the composition. In fact, let me try something.

I popped open Krita (Which now has a StableDiffusion plugin) and after literally dozens of generations and a couple of different models I landed on ZavyChromaXL with the following prompt:

concept art of two astronauts walking towards a spaceship on an alien planet, with a giant moon in th background, artstation, classic scifi, book cover

And this was the best I could do:

Not great, but Krita has a tool that lets you break an image into regions which each have different prompts, so I quickly blocked something out:

Each of those color blobs has a different part of the prompt, so the green region has "futuristic astronauts" the blue is the spaceship, the orange is the moon, grey is the ground and pink is the sky, which gives us:

Still way too much, so we can use Krita's adaptive patch tool and AI object removal to get:

I'm not saying it's high art, or even any good, but it's better than the stuff I was getting from a pure prompt, because a human did the composition.

But it's still so dominated by AI processes that it's fair to call it "AI Art".

Which makes me wonder how many of the AI pictures I called out as human made because one of the traits I was looking for, good composition, was in fact, actually made by a human.

[agarthanguide]

Forgive me if you’ve answered this already, but what is the timeline you work with for the CR character art? Do you do them all at once, or one at a time? I saw on the Dorian ask you mentioned the deliberation started long enough ago that Robbie didn’t know his brother died. Did you know they were going to a cold location? Or were the outfits designed for any weather? If you were to design their winter outfits now, would you do it any differently?

Your art is very cool! No pressure to answer all/any of these :)

Timeline varies WILDLY. The very first round, back before Bells Hells even premiered, was like 4 months out. But that took a lot more effort. Messing around and zeroing in on a thing. I can turn a character around in a week, as long as that character isn't that important to anyone. Like I know all guests love their characters, but Erika Ishii's first round took like three days (and then I heard about Yu, which took two weeks). Bordor scared the shit out of me because it was so effortless that I was worried that I either missed something or didn't know something.

I start them all at once, within reason. It's really important to get final designs (pre-rendered) to Ian, the mini painter. So one tries to work them in waves. Start as soon as you get the first brief, and then don't get too stuck on anyone. Try to keep a wide open mind so you don't accidentally railroad yourself. I have a tendency to freeze up at the render stage, because it requires a drastic change of style. So I will have to spend a day relearning how to color.

So yeah- no one told me they were going to a cold climate. They try to tell me what I need to know, but "need to know" is different for everyone. I've gotten clips of descriptions of what they are wearing, before, but generally it's just whatever they tell me directly! And no, I don't think I'd change anything too much if I knew they were going to Aeor. I enjoy a Seasonal Design as much as anyone, but only for like a one-shot (I'd love to do a holiday one shot with everyone in swim gear or christmas sweaters or whatever). But if they are going to be playing the main game in an outfit, I'd rather that outfit be iconic than specific.

Check out some Dorian gear concepts!

[podsn]

I decided to do @mircsy DTIYS challenge!

I decided to do this is my Athena design with different elements of the original and Mircsy’s own design.

It’s kinda funny tho cuz I tried a new style of rendering for something that’s supposed to be done in my style lol. This was fun tho and I’m really happy with how it turned out. I stayed up all night to do this too 😭 I didn’t realize what time it was when I finished.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

in the center of this room

📃 1.4k words, rated T ⚢ a lesbian!charles x lewis ficlet (with a short girl!landoscar cameo) 🏎️ for @supercollide who sent sports car as a mini song prompt 🤓 now on ao3!

p.s. so i heard y'all going crazy about the new promo pics... p.p.s. this is an AU where lewis drinks ok, just roll with it

--------------

“It’s not as if I don’t like her. I am just becoming… accustomed. Like many other things,” Charlie says, over the music. She tucks her bangs behind her ear, hoping it looks as nonchalant as she admittedly doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Lando’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. And technically Charlie has lied, as Lewis was unlike many other things. No other person has won almost eight driver championships, for that matter.

“I mean, it is not really an easy thing, you know? Changing teammates.” 

“Oh, believe me mate, I know.” 

“Well.” Charlie casts her eyes towards another corner of the room, where Oscar, with her barely touched drink and her very practical bootcut jeans, is trying very hard not to stare at them both. “It seems yours is rather…”

“Socially awkward?” Lando offers.

“I was going to say enamoured. But I don’t really think that will be an issue with Lewis.”

“What– doesn’t bat for the team?”

“Please! In this house, darling, we all bat for one thing only. And that’s Ferrari.”

Lando doesn’t look like she believes her, but then she's distracted from the topic of Lewis, because she looks over at Oscar again. Charlie’s eyes follow. For all of the Australian driver’s F1 reaction times, she is basically rendered useless in any social setting by Lando’s mere presence. Case in point, she almost drops her entire drink down her front. 

“Maybe you should go rescue her?” Charlie says. 

Lando sighs, but she doesn’t seem that cut up about it. “Be back in a bit.” 

Charlie gives a courteous nod, and watches her go – watches as Lando’s curly hair mop of hair beelines through the crowd, and Oscar perking up as Lando heads towards her. 

Just as Charlie wonders if it is written in a motorsport manual somewhere to have strange psychosexual relations with your teammate, she turns to the bartender and orders herself another apple martini. When she turns around–

“Buonasera,” Lewis says, with a downward tilt of her chin. That voice, like rich velvet. It’s Lewis, who is dressed in bright yellow, in what might be described as street couture construction chic, in the kind of clothing that Charlie could only ever aspire to wear, without being the butt of a joke. (She now feels very underdressed and uncool, even in her finest next-season Jacquemus.)

Now, Charlie is no spring chicken. People throw themselves at her all the time, the predestined child of Ferrari. And she's well aware of how the temperature changes when she walks into a room. The value of her technical skill and social capital and that gnashing, unwieldy thing that is the rosso corsa brand, bleeding and beating and alive in her palms. She is well aware of her status as a patron saint, the vaunted subject of the tifosi's hopes and dreams and hymns. She loves it, even.

And yet. To walk with Lewis is to understand anew what it is to be anointed.

Because it’s Lewis. Multiple time world champion, multi hyphenate, philanthropist, game-changer – Lewis who has herself struck down other giants to stand tall in the pantheon of greats, the same one that Charlies dreams of being one day. And knows herself to be capable of, even if the results don't show it yet.

It seems Lewis however has no such concerns about their difference in status. Instead, she smiles. “That what you’re drinking?” 

“It’s my usual!” Charlie exclaims.

“Nah. We’re doing shots. Celebrating the pre-season in style.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be good before the season starts?”

Lewis tilts her head, and her microbraids jangle slightly with the motion. She’s had them woven through with silver and yellow stars. Charlie had tried not to stare at how beautiful she’d looked at the photoshoot they did last week. 

“I think you’ve been plenty good,” Lewis says. "Haven’t you?”

“Are you joking with me, or trying to butter me up?”

“Can’t it be both?” Lewis demurs. So maybe she has a point there.

Charlie opts to smile back cordially, instead of having a meltdown about what this all means, in the middle of a Monaco nightclub. At any rate, Lewis doesn’t wait for a response. She just flattens both palms on the bar and kind of, poses radiantly, in that Lewis-like way, one stiletto heel crossed behind an ankle, not calling for service per se but with the utter confidence that the gravity in the room will eventually tilt towards her in some way. To Lewis’s credit, this pose also makes her ass look pretty incredible. Charlie diplomatically opts not to say this part aloud.  

Meanwhile the bartender, who has made themselves scarce, materialises like a bee zooming towards a puddle of sugar water. Perfectly timed. Lewis and the bartender exchange a couple of words, and the bartender disappears, ostensibly to find the most outrageously priced organic and ethically produced liquor bottles in the entire +377 area code. 

Charlie's throat suddenly feels dry. Music shimmers in the back, switching to something with a growling bass. Lewis doesn’t shimmy, but does drum her fingers on the bar to the beat. 

“This sounds like a song I knew before,” Lewis says. “Maybe Nico played it for me.”

“I don’t think they do 2000s music here. That’s for Thursdays,” Charles says.

Lewis pins her with a stare. “Charlie. Did you just call me old?”

Charlie puts one hand on her chest. “I would never, Ms. Hamilton.”

Lewis shakes her head, and the earlier tension eases a little. 

“Do you dance?” Charlie feels the need to ask. She’s not entirely sure why she’s asking. Lewis might as well be a god. She somehow can’t picture a god dancing. Gods are meant to be observed in ancient pictures, static and unmoving, or their likeness protected behind museum glass. She is not sure which category she considers Lewis to be in right now. She is equally surprised at her own rapacious curiosity, to find out if there’s a beating heart in there after all. Some flesh and blood for her to sink her teeth into. 

(It’s not the first time she’s felled a god. But at least Seb still takes her calls.) 

For her part, Lewis laughs. “‘Course I dance. Right song, right person.”

“And am I I the right person?” Charles asks.

Lewis holds Charlie’s gaze, and the music builds again. So much Charlie feels its pulse, from the tips of her toes to the back of her calves, the gentle quake up her spine– lust and hunger notching its way into the soft and vulnerable places where she hadn’t allowed it before. Not with Lewis, at least. 

And for a moment, so quick she almost notices, Lewis’s expression changes. Mouth curling at the corners in surprise, eyes lighting up with interest, as if she has been waiting for Charlie to drive on the limit with her, too.

But quick as the moment arrives, it passes. The shots appear on a tray, and Lewis’s attention is elsewhere. Always pulled in many directions, a woman with many ambitions, and short on time. 

She picks up the pair of shot glasses, and passes one to Charlie. When she leans on the bar again, the muscles in her arms flex, and Charlie tries again not to stare.

Charlie isn’t quite sure how to proceed. So she says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“What is it that we are drinking to, then?”

“Life. Love.” Lewis shouts. She leans closer to Charlie. Lewis smells like water and cocoa butter and something oudsy. It makes Charlie a bit dizzy, but maybe it’s just the lights and her harder-than-usual run this morning. It’s not like she was getting competitive about the season already. Of course not.

“And to winning, again.” Lewis says, low and conspiratorial. “Forza Ferrari.”

Charlie says nothing. She’s heard the words before of course, a million times. But not from Lewis. Not like this. In her mouth, it takes on a new shape, a whole new meaning. It becomes a secret, and Charlie doesn't want anyone else to know it.

So Charlie nods. Gives her assent. She clinks her glass into Lewis’s, and they both tip their heads back. The music throbs in her ears now, and the alcohol burns all the way down, settling uneasily in her stomach.

Lewis wipes her mouth with a napkin that’s materialised out of nowhere. Charlie is conscious that there are people all around the periphery who are staring at them both, but strangely, Lewis is staring just at…her. As if waiting for her to say something. Make the first move, initiate the dance.  

And in the cavernous space, the neon lights, it feels like the moment before an honest conversation. Of camaraderie. Of wonderment.

It feels like the moment before a bruise. 

[kozachenko]

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.