#tril art

[astrilyc]

very happy with this one, and then forgor to post 5 hours after done tee hee💀

rat shrimp from ofc @link-rejoin 🦐

[theundergod]

#TheUnderGod x FonzFutura.com

[mineshaft-birdie]

Made Zora a new pet(?)

This guy likes to chill in her shadow and raid her honey stash when she's not looking

[ask-the-linked-systems]

*Redesigns a buttload of characters bc I can*

Enjoy! God this is going to be heck putting the tags in for everyone-

[joltning]

rvb aus

when I said I had a lot brewing I meant a LOT brewing…! god I need motivation

I’ll be splitting these into 3 sections: one offs/fic ideas, less expanded on ideas, and then my main aus/ones I have more ideas on

one offs/jokey aus/fic ideas:

feel free to take these ideas as your own, im not too attached to them

• grimmons fic where kai lives on iris and simmons is super nervous around her. grif thinks it’s because he has a crush on her but actually it’s because she keeps teasing him about his crush on grif

• teen beach rvb au. think about it man.

• au where lopez and felix betray locus before he can betray felix. and they kiss or something I don’t know

• freelancer donut au…!!! one of my firsts. not very good. has no substance. but it exists. tex donut beef goes CRAZY

• trivia murder party rvb au. i have no clue what this would entail

• slipspace (the grifball miniseries guys) team up with fh57 from s14. this was before I learned that fh57 was just funhouse. womp womp

• shis tril writer mentions that locus now “owns a food truck on Fiji” or something. someone write that Please im begging

• fast food au focusing on the lieutenants. + Frank from s15. i know him and bitters gonna be oomfs or whatever

• au where church stays in the s3 time loop and experiences generation loss, feeding bits of himself into the other soldiers in order to save them

• au where the s5 ending where they all die is canon and they all go to hell

less expanded ideas

• so basic but I’m putting it in this tier anyway. A song fic battle of the bands au, but MY WAY…!!!! I have a vision. Don’t know what it is yet but I have it

• campy horror movie rvb au, where they all claim to see different things in the woods, but it turns out literally every single person is the horror. they all embody horror tropes and are, of course, alone in the woods in a summer camp.

• started as an everything everywhere all at once au but turned into something more Evil. Anyway regular domestic au but then the ai from the “alpha universe” jump into people in the main universe when they’re “compatible.” GRIMMONS JUMPSCARE….!!!!! Simmons is gonna be the one to end the world and the ai are either helping or hindering that process. he becomes a literal monster. originally this au was made so I could experiment with purple prose + text art etc but I guess not anymore what the hell

• rvbz au…! Viper and shatter squad are two organizations, viper being a splinter group from the AOD. When they start fighting on chorus, the reds and blues take sides, splitting off into two groups, some staying neutral. both are somewhat regarded as terrorist groups, viper being victims of starlight labs and shatter being a sort of vigilante group that. isn’t very good at it.

• “split ends” au…!! I really hope to bring this one up to the top tier at some point! geotah focus because im ill but it’s mostly balanced as i wanna get all dynamics in. project freelancer, instead of having ai, has units run using a partner. Only one can use it at a time, and the other has to focus on running it, leaving them vulnerable on the battlefield. This goes for enhancements, but it also goes for other things, such as calculations, enemy tracking, etc. they can switch whenever they want. each pair has one unit. god i wish I could write the unseen freelancers because all those silly powers would be chaos. Oh, also, you can steal the armor enhancements like you would ai. Hmm.

more expanded ideas

these are in order from least important to me to most

• trailer au! one of my first aus, and the ONLY au I’ve written a full outline for. (it’s not very good now that I look back on it.) it asks the question: what if the s15 trailer was EXACTLY what it was eluding to? featuring…Frank staying on the film team and making a trio with jax and dylan, insane murder party reds and blues, spencer plot relevance (somewhat) omalley coming back, the reds and blues failing to beat Hargrove, tucker shooting wash, and one armor enhanced, cobalt colored Tucker.

• s15 rewrite au. after disliking the trailer au I made this one! the blues and reds, instead of being mirrors or even reflections of the main cast, is reflections of what they could have become if they hadn’t changed their old ways, if things had gotten worse. this is basically my snider cut i reorder a shit ton of things etc. also very important carolina was not there when biff died it was just Tex and she didn’t kill biff, she just refused to help him (that kill goes to our friend loco!) anyway it’s more centric of the idea of comparisons between people who have distinguishing differences. Also kuane exists

• interstate au! honestly I have so little in terms of plot but idea wise I have Everyhting. I cannot stop thinking about it sooo..that’s why it’s so high up. Okay I’ll be real this is honestly like a glorified swap au but it’s MY swap au. Basically everything after s5 (also the miniseries) is noncanon and it diverges from there. ft…wash getting sigmapilled by eta, red team maine, red and blue road trip, the quest to find kai (she’s kissing women) and the run from DEAD CAROLINA..!! DEAD..!! oh and church and tex are literally just ghosts. Instead of the director trying to bring back allison and fragmenting one full ai into attributes, he is trying to pair FULL AI with freelancers in an attempt to boil them down to one trait, to harvest them and combine them into a Super Dead Daughter Carolina. wash and eta, or Data (see what I did there) are the collectors which is why they’re the main antags or whatever

• TRIPLETS TRILOGY. OHHHH MY GOOODDDD. I can’t say much because I intend to actually show this one to the world, but WOW. love this one. Basically, the triplets and sherry’s squad are alive. After an alien crash lands on their planet years later, they’re left to explore and find out what they’ve missed while they were gone. It’s split into 3 ‘seasons,’ (with one scrapped mini series), takes place during the recollections, and is looking to be way shorter than I intended it to be, but oh well. It’s where my obsession with the green guy and the white fuck and sherryvera insanity comes from. why did I have to fixate on these random ass mfers what the hell. It’s canon plausible….!! It would never happen!!! But it could!!

now the rant’s done, here’s some older images. oh god ray’s hair is So wrong

[byrdstrolls]

so what part of weaver's design was a collab exactly?

The hair and facial features! I only changed the veil and horns. its difficult to see under the veil, but the spider trils are still under the ears too. I understand that doesn't feel like much, but I like to er on the side of better safe than sorry when it comes to crediting people for their art. I just would feel weird not crediting a design I took several elements from if that makes sense? regardless of how many of those came through in the final piece.

[hychlorions]

had a little bit of a gamble and risked going on the apollo tag to look for art of him but all i found were posts hating on the 456 ports being called the "apollo tril*gy" and i love that energy. capcom what are you doing. that's the penis trilogy 2

[acertainmoshke]

TDATS characters that have vanished

These are the ones who were stolen away from their homes and lives, with the expectation that no one would ever miss them.

Wire

Wire is somewhere in his mid-late 30’s. He has spent his entire life in one of the underground caverns in Jhakour called underworlds. They have numbers too and factory specialties, but since no one who lives there is likely to leave they all just call their own home the underworld. He lost his parents young and bounced around between the lean-to homes of anyone he could beg or bribe to give him and his little sibling shelter. He grew up and, like about 70% of the underworld population, got a factory job. Which was terrible. Almost worth the accident that cut both his hands off, leading him to instead be the go-between for his sibling’s illicit mod business. The two lived in one of the newer lean-to neighborhoods with curtains instead of doors. Factory workers got the actual apartments (though even they were spilling over now) while the rest of the population were all considered criminal and left to make do. The only new neighbors were the occasional people sent down from the surface for being dangerous or useless.

Tril

Tril is in her late 20’s. Her family have been factory workers for generations. Maybe since the start of this system on Jhakour. The surface is just a fairy tale to them. Tril works at the factory now too to help support her elderly father and several young siblings and cousins, all of them living together in a one-room apartment. They’re lucky though, because they have a stove and a door. She’s really smart though, and even though the underworld has no public education and reading is rare she taught herself and her older sister to. She spends what little spare time she has running experiments with chemicals and medicine.

Dlar

Dlar is in his 70’s. He’s also an unusual case in the underworld, because he’s not from there, though he doesn’t advertise that fact. He grew up on the surface, went to school, and fell in love with reading stories as well as telling them. He has whole books memorized. But he got in trouble for trying to do the right thing for someone and banished underground. Now he mostly tells stories to children (plus Pixel and whatever other adults can surreptitiously listen in). He is too old for factory work or to learn one of the illegal trades. He tells stories and collects books when he can track them down. He mostly eats the lunches the sellers give him in appreciation.

Zippy

Zippy is in her mid-20’s. She has been well trained to think of herself as a problem. She lives with her mom, sister, and niece. But Zippy is chronically ill and can’t work. And, since underworld factory wages are carefully calculated for the bare minimum based on the number of workers and children in the household, she is an extra cost. Not that her family ever holds it against her, but it makes life hard. Her main escape is making art. She loves to mix her own paints when she can get the materials.

Du

Du is in his late 20’s. He was always a soft kid, loving to knit and crying easily at stories. But he wanted to be cool, to fit in, so he followed around his big brother and tried to be tough. He went to school but struggled and quit as soon as he was allowed. Ended up being a mechanic, and a fairly good one. He was good natured, loud, always laughing. But his brother was always getting all these mods, so he started going them too. Mostly moving tattoos, nothing over the top. Until he decided he needed one that wasn’t quite legal to stay competitive at work. It was poorly done, short circuited his brain. Basically trapped him inside himself, always an observer, unable to communicate or process most input. He still knits and it’s the only thing that comforts him, but his creations no longer make any sense. He’s lucky to be allowed to stay on the surface.

Twig

Twig is in her early 40’s. She lives on the surface, but only in the most technical sense. She has no home and usually sleeps on the cargo ship she works on as it shuttles back and forth between the planetary docks and the larger port on Jhakour’s moon. Twig is odd. She does her job well, but has no friends among her coworkers and spends no time with anyone except the barely-coherent Wolfy when she has surface time. Her posture and voice and manner are off putting, even creepy, and she makes no attempt to be kind but is also not cruel. Oh, also she is always muttering about the future—and she’s always right.

Peppermint

Peppermint was born 11 years ago but is the equivalent of 22. They are also not, technically, a person, although they did choose their own name and gender. Technically, they are a failed genetic experiment, a combination of human and cat DNA. They were the only such experiment to live to adulthood, and they do have improved senses and reflexes, but they proved useless for war purposes. They were proven sentient and thus may not be killed or discarded, but they are legally property. Which means the scientist who owns them can do with them whatever she wants. Peppermint has never left the lab high in the spires among Jhakour’s wealthiest living above the smog, but they do have a roommate/best friend and they love to research trivia questions.

Za’Niyah

Za’Niyah really is 10 years old. She’s the last of a very successful human worker cloning program. But she is also a mistake, a mutant, not acceptable. She can’t be discarded for the same reason as Peppermint, but she can be repurposed.

[art-by-moosie]

More redesigns from the high fantasy story I'm reworking~! Queen Calashnak of Za'coát and High Priest Saláé Valimas~ These two are Ritika's parents, though they've been divorced for nearly a century and a half. Ritika mostly chills with her mom, but does spend time up in Daniva with her dad.

Saláé is now engaged to Eavana and will eventually be part of a throuple with her and Tril...who is also his ex.

art alert tag: @grunid

[larisarealtech97]

Silverglades The Legacy Sector 63A Gurgaon

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[tseneipgam]

"Close-ups of nail art, a pebble from outer space, a tarantulas compound eyes, a storm like canned peaches on the surface of Jupiter, Van Gogh's The Potato Eaters, a chihuahua perched on a man's erection, a garage door spray-painted with the words STOP! DON'T EMAIL MY WIFE! Why did the portal feel so private, when you only entered it when you needed to be everywhere? She felt along the solid green marble of the day for the hairline crack that might let her out. This could not be forced."

"Where had the old tyranny gone, the tyranny of husband over wife? She suspected most of it had been channeled into weird ideas about supplements, whether or not vinyl sounded "warmer," and which coffeemakers were nothing but a shit in the mouth of the coffee christ. "A hundred years ago you would have been mining coal and had fourteen children all named Jane,"'she often marveled, as she watched a man stab a finger at his wife in front of the Keurig display. "Two hundred years ago, you might have been in a coffee shop in Göttingen, shak- ing the daily paper, hashing out the questions of the day--and I would be shaking out sheets from the windows, not know- ing how to read." But didn't tyranny always feel like the hand of the way things were?"

"It was a mistake to believe that other people were not living as deeply as you were. Besides, you were not even living that deeply. The amount of eavesdropping that was going on was enor- mous, and the implications not yet known. Other people's diaries streamed around her. Should she be listening, for in- stance, to the conversations of teenagers? Should she follow with such avidity the compliments that rural sheriffs paid to porn stars, not realizing that other people could see them? What about the thread of women all realizing they had the exact same scar on their knee? "I have that scar too!" "

"A person might join a site to look at pictures of her nephew and five years later believe in a flat earth."

"As she began to type, "Enormous fatberg made of grease, wet wipes, and condoms is terrorizing London's sewers, " her hands began to waver in their outlines and she had to rock the crown of her head against the cool wall, back and forth, back and forth. What, in place of these sentences, marched in the brains of previous generations? Folk rhymes about planting turnips, she guessed."

"Every time she passed the model train store she clenched her fists and said, "You did this…" And it was true, it was tris life as we knew it was coming to an end because 160 years ag% of whatever, some old weirdo who was obsessed with trains had to invent trains because trains didn't exist yet. Choo-choo, motherfucker, are you happy now?"

"The only thing that bound us together was this belief: that in every other country they eat unspeakable food; worship gods more see-through than glass; string together only the most meaningless syllables, like g00-g00-g00-goo-goo-goo-goo; are war- like but not noble; do not help the dead cross in the proper boats; do not send the correct incense up to the wide blue nos- trils; crawl with whatever crawls; do not love their children, not the way we do; bare the most tempting body parts and cover the most mundane; cup their penises to protect them from supernatural forces; their poetry is piss; they do not respect the moon; slice the little faces of our familiars into the stewpot."

"The Cairns must be holy, she thought when she visited, for the air around her was doubled, tripled, with remixed and humming life. Old robes and old bones swished past her on their way to cookfires, a mist of eyes looked up to mark the place of the sun in the sky, and the ruddy cows on the oppo- site hillside spoke to each other in words that were almost comprehensible: life, death, Im spilling over, green grass. They said all you needed to be remembered was one small stone piled on another, and wasn't that what we were doing in the portal, small stone on small stone on small stone?"

"On the Isle of Skye, she and her husband ate langoustines at a restaurant overlooking a long gray ridge of rock with a light- house at the tip of it, and laughed at the herds of tourists who insisted on visiting lighthouses wherever they went. "Some things!" her husband whispered. "Are the same! No matter where you go!" But later, taking an afternoon out of the portal to read Virginia Woolf, she realized that that must have been it, the lighthouse the family sails to on the final page. Was that the final page? Or did the book end with herself and her hus- band, cracking the red backs of little sweet creatures, cutouts of each other and all the same, and laughing at the people who moved in one wave, the family who went to the Lighthouse?"

"Your attention is holy," she told the class, as her phone buzzed uncontrollably in her back pocket, for a long-ago joke she had made about a Florida politician "who nearly died during elective taint-lengthening surgery' was receiving renewed at- tention that morning. "It is the soul spending itself,"

"Context collapse! That sounded pretty bad, didn't it? And also like the thing that was happening to the honeybees?"

"CIA Confirms "Charlie Bit My Finger" Was on One of Osama bin Laden's Computers Also a file called assss.jpeg."

"We were being radicalized, and how did that feel? Like we had just stepped into a Girl Scout uniform made of fire. Like the skies had abruptly shifted to the stripes of an old Soviet poster, and the cookies we carried through green and well-watered neighborhoods had been cut by the guillotine. We were being radicalized, yes, even though we owned personalized goblets that said Wine O'Clock, even though we still read the Old Gray Lady every morning with not nearly enough of a sneer on our faces! SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, whenever the head- line was too perfect, the juxtaposition too good to be true. SHOOT IT IN MY VEINS, we said, when the Flat Earth Society announced it had members all over the globe."

"The portal's favorite stories, now, were about interracial friends who met playing online Scrabble and eventually invited each other to Thanksgiving dinner. One of them must be very old, old enough to have been on the wrong side of the civil rights movement, and one of them must be very young, young enough that their face was like a fresh lightbulb. They must encounter each other's traditional dishes with an equal amount of surprise and familiarity, they must take pictures of them- selves sitting down at the feather-flocked table, and, most im- portant, they must do it again next year. We reveled in these stories, which were not untrue. But there was some untruth in the degree to which they comforted us."

"Modern womanhood was more about rubbing snail mucus on your face than she had thought it would be. But it had always been something, hadn't it? Taking drops of arsenic. Winding bandages around the feet. Polishing your teeth with lead. It was so easy to believe you freely chose the paints, polishes, and waist-trainers of your own time, while looking back with tre- mendous pity to women of the past in their whalebones; that you took the longest strides your body was capable of, while women of the past limped forward on broken arches."

"Our enemies! ... Had they made us weak with intermittent fasting? Had they wasted our evenings with the detective show that no one could understand? Had they done this to make American novels bad for a time? Were they distracting our anarchists with polyamory and meal replacement drinks, so nothing could get done? Had they bloated us with homebrew? Had they made Christianity viable again? Had they brought back snap-crotch bodysuits?"

"What do you mean you've been spying on me? she thought- hot, blind, unreasoning, on the toilet. What do you mean you've been spying on me, with this thing in my hand that is an eye? How were we supposed to write now that we could no longer compare anything to a phantom limb? Was the phrase "the Braille of her nipples" to be absolutely retired? Were we just never to say that someone "inclined her head like a geisha" ever again? Could we not call the weather bipolar without risking the prison of public opinion? Not imply that bird- watchers are autistic? Could we not say the crescent moon was "as slender as a poor person"? Not say the sun "crashed inevi- tably into the mountains like a woman driver"? Take all shades and strengths of coffee away, if we could no longer hold it up to people's faces!"

and the only way it was possible to comfort herself anymore was to stand in front of the mirror and say out loud, "Cows don't know about him."

"

"MY SAFE! she found herself screaming two days later, kneeling below her husband's work window with a needle standing in every pore, a pair of balled-up panties stuck to one leg and clutching to her chest what appeared to be a dictio- nary. "GET DOWN HERE AND OPEN MY SAFE!" She had tried every number that she could think of-_the sex num- ber, the antichrist number, the twin towers number-_but he grimly took the safe from her and freed it with 1-2-3-4. "Oh," she said, slumping with relief, her body unlocking as soon as the phone was in her hand, "that's good, that's funny. Like learning to count. Like Sesame Street." That night the safe went in the back of the closet, where the words NEW EN- GLISH could not wink at her any longer, and they never spoke of it again, and that was love, that was what love was now."

"Self-care, she thought, and sprinkled in her tub a large quan- tity of an essential oil that smelled like a Siberian forest. But when she lowered herself into the trembling water, what she would have referred to in the portal as her b'ole began to burn with such a white-hot medieval fire that she stood straight up in the bath and shouted the name of a big naked god she no longer believed in, and as strong rivers flowed off her in every direction she did not remember the conditions of the modern moment at all, she was unaware of anything ex- cept the specific address of her own body, which meant either that the hot bath had worked to restore her to herself, or else that she would have sold out her neighbors to the regime in an instant, one or the other."

"and tell him to go suck a poison pussy, sweetie Was it entirely his fault? Lately it seemed every man on the planet was about to burst from a supplement sold to him by another man with exactly the same set of opinions. "Mom, I want you to check Dad's medicine cabinet," she said one day during her weekly call. "Check and make sure he's not secretly taking some supplement with a bullshit name like Destroy Her with Logic 5000 + Niacin."

"It's nonsense!" a man hollered at her, rising unsteadily on his cane. He had read about the event in the physical newspaper. He signed every one of his texts, Love, Grandpa. "It's not nonsense! It's folk art!" she hollered back. Like those early American women who painted kids with enormous fore- heads, either because they didn't know how to paint regular foreheads or because it was a stylistic choice!

"Our politicians had never been so authentic, so linked arm in arm with the common people. "My favorite meat is hot dog, by the way," one told us. "That is my favorite meat. My second favorite meat is hamburger. And, everyone says, oh, don't you prefer steak? It's like, I know steaks are great, but I like hot dog best, and I like hamburger next best." And we shivered with recognition, and a vague vote grew solid in our hands, for we too liked hot dog best, and hamburger next best. We were the common people, on whom it all rested, and we lived in diners, and we went to church at the gas station, and our mother was a dirty mattress in the front yard, and we liked, God dammit, hot dog best."

"Her cousin, born the odd year before her, was autistic, at a time when they still blamed refrigerator mothers. Before he got too strong and was sent away, her aunt had built for him in the basement of her mansion a miniature kitchen. It was thought, somehow, that this bright and well-ordered corner of verisimil- itude would help him break into real life. Little T-bones, shaped like South America, dewy ears of corn, false cans with actual labels. But he cared nothing for this, he cared only for music, he slapped his temples to the pulse, and as he grew taller and turned the beat louder and louder it became clear they had it all backward: real life was in him, trying to burst the miniatur- ization of the body, little T-bones, dewy ears."

"A certain look used to come over her aunt's face as she crossed and held her son's wrists behind his back, in that imitation kitchen full of imitation food. It made her wonder if she ought to have children, for anything could happen, and you didnt know if you were up to it, how could you know if you were up to it? But she thought just as often of a little girl with pigrails who came running down the aisle of a plane toward her once, and patted her all over her arms and legs as she passed, and it was like a rain of soft blue bruiseless plums. She felt the surprise of it long after the girl was gone, and as she contemplatively sipped vodka from a shampoo bottle in the bathroom, a bloom came suddenly all over her skin: maybe she was up to it, after all."

"Her wish for the next generation was for them to be spared an age when numbers got sick- swarmed, clumped together, went plummeting off cliffs-_and the numbers were human beings. But could what they had started be stopped? "

"because when a dog runs to you and nudges against your hand for love and you say automatically, I know, I know, what else are you talking about except the world?"

"The theme they had chosen was swans, serene and graceful, though the only swan she had ever per- sonally met had stared her down outside the Kafka Museum in Prague and then attacked. It had chased her all the way down to the water, its half-a-heart neck stretched out in a scream, but of course, she had understood later, its nest must have been somewhere near."

"She held the little hand and waited for its wilted pink squeeze, like the handshake of a lily. She stroked the heaving back--how hard it was, to haul the body through even a single day- and traced the new brown down on the baby's forehead. She leaned over the child and said something; she said, 'It is going to be just like your mother."

[astrilyc]

Reviving myself from artfight with the wimdy boy

[theundergod]

#TheUnderGod x FonzFutura.com

[mineshaft-birdie]

Made Zora a new pet(?)

This guy likes to chill in her shadow and raid her honey stash when she's not looking

[ask-the-linked-systems]

Otis Comic

This is a comic version of the first chapter of the Konazelian Files I'm working on. The link to the doc is below:

Also, I have a masterpost now.

[malditoportal]

TRILOGÍA MARTIAL LAW