#and wanted to do the dither effect

[holidaymidi]

KA-BOOM ! (clean vers ?)

[clumsypuppy]

oh yea.. its all coming together

[suguwu]

this man is ruining my life. somehow this is 1.6k.

minors and ageless blogs dni. you will be blocked.

jing yuan x f!reader, pwp, sex pollen/aphrodisiac, unprotected sex.

you stare at jing yuan.

he meets your gaze, the corner of his lips flickering up, a guttering candle flame.

"you were what?"

"poisoned," he says cheerfully. "lady bailu confirmed it."

"so you decided to die in my foyer?"

"apparently it's mild."

"what a shame."

"so cruel."

"why are you here, jing yuan?" you ask.

"ah," he says. "it appears that the poison has...a few side effects. there's a possibility that i could be compromised."

you tilt your head. "compromised?"

"i am rather susceptible to certain stimuli at the moment. there's a possibility that—in the correct circumstances—i could give away a few things that should not be divulged."

you study him. he stays smiling, but he shifts in place minutely. he's flushed, a pale pink the color of the dawn in two spots high on his cheeks, and there's a thin layer of sweat gathering at his temples. it's starting to darken his hair to the deeper silver of the artificial moon.

"jing yuan," you say slowly. "what, exactly, are the side effects?"

"similar to a strong aphrodisiac."

"similar? or exactly like one?"

he huffs out a laugh, but it's strained. "astute as always," he says. "exactly like one."

you can't help but glance down.

he's hard.

heat suffuses your cheeks, burns hot like a supernova. you look back up at him immediately. his golden eyes are gleaming, his pupils dilating, a black hole devouring the sun.

shameless, you think.

"what do you want from me?" you ask bluntly.

"nothing untoward. just your company."

"i'm not sure i believe you."

"i just need to be with someone who won't take advantage," he says. "and i don't want to expose yanqing to this."

you sigh. "fine," you say, beckoning him deeper into your house. "come on."

the two of you settle in your living room. jing yuan sighs, closing his eyes and tilting his head back into the cushions, exposing the long line of his throat. the sweat is beading more heavily at his brow now, shining in the afternoon light, and you gnaw at your lower lip.

you pick your book back up as his breath evens out, his broad chest rising and falling with it. his brow furrows more deeply; the set of his lips looks pained.

you put your book down.

"does it—"

"it's merely uncomfortable," he says, cracking open an eye. "please don't worry about it."

you chew on your lip again. "there has to be something i can do."

he pauses for a moment. "i don't want to ask something of you that you're not willing to give."

"you won't know until you ask."

"i'd like to hold you," he says, shifting slightly. "nothing more."

it stokes the heat in your cheeks; they feel like they're on fire, burning merrily. the usual tease in his voice is gone. somehow, it bares something in you, flays you open. your traitorous heart flutters.

without a word, you stand. jing yuan raises his head, watching with interest as you cross to him. you stand in front of him for a moment, dithering like a moth, before you sink down next to him.

it takes a moment to settle into a comfortable position, but you end up with his arms wound around you as you lean back against his broad chest. you're not quite in his lap, but you're close.

he presses his cheek against you. "thank you," he says, his voice rumbling through you.

"don't mention it," you say, cheeks still suffused with heat. "really. please don't."

he chuckles, arms tightening around you. "shouldn't i be the one embarrassed?"

"nothing ever embarrasses you."

he laughs outright at that. you squirm as the sound vibrates through you; it sends a gust of damp, hot air against the sensitive shell of your ear. jing yuan is warm against you, the gentle heat of sunbaked stones, and you're not immune to the hard press of his body against you.

you shift again, settling back against him further. you take in a sharp breath as his cock—now pressed flush against the small of your back—twitches. his arms tighten around you as his breath hitches. his fingers sink into the softness of you before he lets go.

"perhaps this was a bad idea," he says, sounding strained. you're not sure he knows that one of his thumbs is stroking along the waistband of your pants, just shy of the skin beneath.

"maybe," you agree, voice breathy.

he shifts; it brings you entirely into his lap. you take a deep breath.

"tell me to stop," he murmurs, pressing close and nipping at the shell of your ear. his cock throbs against you.

you take hold of one of his big hands. you bring it up to your breast; it takes only the slightest flex of your fingers for him to cup it, his palm brushing against your hardening nipple.

"i don't want to," you admit.

he squeezes at your tit. it sends sparks skittering up your nerves. he slides his hand down and plucks at your nipple. the sensation is blunted by your shirt, but it arrows through you anyway.

"i'll struggle to control myself," he warns, his other hand sneaking between your legs to palm your dampening cunt. it presses the seam of your pants against you. you chase the feeling with a roll of your hips.

"good," you say, and that's all it takes for the world to spin as he flips you beneath him, pinning you down against the couch as he slips between your legs. you lift your hips to press up against his cock, and he groans before dipping down to kiss you.

he's soft with you for a breath, and then he devours you, all teeth and tongue, spit starting to drip messily down your chin. he shoves your shirt up over your tits and tugs down the cups of your bra until your breasts spill out.

before you can even protest the rough treatment of your favorite bra, he's ducking down to close his hot mouth around a nipple. you hiss out a breath and feel him grin against your skin. he suckles until your nipple is peaked and hard, occasionally grazing his teeth against the soft skin that surrounds it.

you fist a hand in his fluffy hair. he groans as you tug at it, his hands scrambling at the fastening of your pants. he nips at you until you raise your hips for him, letting him push down your pants until they're tangled around your ankles.

he's on you again in an instant, kissing you with deep intent, stealing your breath away, as if it wasn't his already. one big hand slips between your legs to cup your cunt.

jing yuan drags his fingers over the damp spot on your underwear. "this wet for me?" he asks.

"says the one who was hard when he showed up at my doorstep."

"true," he says, and then he descends to your tits again, sucking and biting until you're arching up into him with breathy little whines.

he pushes aside your underwear and sinks one big finger into you. you flutter around the intrusion and he curses under his breath before biting hard between your breasts, making you yelp. he pushes another finger into you almost immediately.

you tug at his hair again and he moans against your skin, the rich sound vibrating through you. your voice breaks on his name as he sinks a third finger into you, thrusting hard and curling his fingers until he finds your sweet spot, making you spasm around him.

"so good," he breathes. "so good for me, that's it."

he kisses you as he pulls his fingers out; you can feel him undoing his belt and then his pants, his knuckles brushing against you.

and then he's in you, and you sink your fingers into his back from the stretch, from the way he opens you so well on his cock.

"jing yuan!"

"you can take it," he soothes, brushing a gentle kiss against your lips even as he snaps his hips in a devastating thrust. the embers of your pleasure begin to spark into a fire, start to run hot through your veins.

he kisses you harshly as he starts to fuck you hard, each long stroke reaching deeply enough in you to make you keen. he presses down on you with each roll of his hips, pinning you completely, until all you can do is take him.

he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder when you tug at his hair again. you mewl at the lightning strike of pain, but it melts away into heat, stoking the fire burning inside you.

you gasp as he fucks you without abandon, each thrust of his hips heavy, bullying inside of you. one of his hands drops to your clit and your voice breaks on his name.

he grates out your name when he cums, his diligent fingers circling harder on your clit until you're shuddering with it, heat racing through you like a forest fire, leaving ashes in its wake, like a landscape forever altered.

when your orgasm fades away, jing yuan kisses you softly. he teases at your lips with his tongue; nips at your lower lip until you bite back. then he rolls his hips again, and your breath catches.

he hasn't softened at all.

he gazes down at you, sweat-soaked, his pupils dilated until there's just a thin rim of gold around them, the sunrise against the horizon.

he fucks in and out of you until you hiss at the way it sparks down your nerves like lightning, pleasure kissed with pain.

"can you keep going?" he asks, drawing his tongue up the line of your jaw. you tighten around him.

"yes," you say, and his eyes flash with something predatory.

"good," he purrs. "because i'm not sated yet."

[pinkbat5]

Hello! 8D

Apologies if this is a random question, but it is corru.observer art related and I believe that you would be the best person to ask for such. Please let me know if that is not the case!

So, the question: How do you do the dithering (Floyd-Steinberg, if this wiki page is correct) effect that I've seen in much of corru's art? I see that, from your neocities, that you use firealpaca (and procreate, though I lack access to that program), so I am wondering if it is possible to do in that program, and if so, how it is done (and if it can be done in other programs, such as Krita).

Many thanks in advance!

Good news, I'm one of the right people!! Though @corruworks uses different methods than I (IIRC paint.net is one of them?) so it's worth asking them too-- I haven't personally asked them recently, I just kinda leave PNGs at their door and run away

Unfortunately you can't dither in firealpaca or procreate directly as far as I can tell. Instead I export the art from firealpaca/procreate and use imagemagick for all my dithering needs! It's command-line only so it's slightly less intuitive to use, but it's pretty powerful.. I eyeball how something will look when dithered, actually dither it, then adjust contrast and re-dither a few times until it looks good to me. There are probably better ways to do this but it would require I use a program other than firealpaca, which I don't wanna do!!

The command I use looks like this:

magick input.png -dither floydsteinberg -remap palette.png output.png

input.png being my base image (including a full path leading to it), output.png is the name of the resulting dithered image, and palette.png is a very small image file that contains at least one pixel of every color that you want to be in the final image. The one I use for a full CMYK palette looks like this:

Note that it includes a single transparent pixel to allow for transparency. If you want to only dither with white, black, cyan and magenta like how most obesk things are colored, just delete the yellow pixel!

Imagemagick is a batch image editor so you can just. Dither a ton of images at the same time. It's neat and highly I recommend giving it a go!

If it's too big of a pain to use though, there is also this tool made by cyclar2 and other online dithering tools out there.

[your-local-uwu-artist]

me: 'haha i should draw alcor if he was funkin on a friday night, just nice and simple 5 drawings with very simple quick squash and stretch bounce style animation'

also me:

-ended up drawing seperate frames instead of just squash and stretching it

-needed to do wings and tail separately so that the movement/timing looks better (i think this is called follow-through?)

-wants to ad glow effect because the background (which i actually let myself have a break with it's just the skid and pump bg with a lot of color editing + added shading) is a little too dark

-realizes that because the wings and tail are seperate I can't just do my usual copy paste to make glow effect

-REALIZES I CAN JUST SELECT THE TRANSPARENT THEN INVERSE SELECTION TO DO IT

-gets ready to export as gif only to realize that my colors are too powerful even with dithering (hence the .mov lmao)

-anyway yeah so i wen't overboard as I do! but it was fun!!!! :DDDD

heres the other pose sketches btw

sense these are just poses and not like the idle animation these should stay simple animation wise!

anyway! I was gonna wait til it was all done to post this but argh I love drawing I love art I love fandom and I love sharing >:DDDDD

I'm posting this like right after finsihing so I hope it's actually good lmao XD

[tiny-brass-bot]

Hi! I saw a post where you had a game made in godot with old school rendering, do you maybe have any tips on how to make godot render a game like that instead of its normal rendering method?

I'd be right happy to!

I'll try to make this concise lol, I always end up overexplaining and then getting lost in the weeds. Buckle up, it's a loooooot of little little things that all add up.

First off, you should decide which look you're going for. N64 and PS1, the two consoles I'm emulating, both had drastically different specs. (plus, there's plenty of other early 3D systems I've not even touched!)

The N64 had texture filtering (textures were interpolated aka "blurry"), it had floating point vertex precision (points moved correctly), it had perspective correction on its textures (no warping)

The PS1 had no texture filtering, no floating point vertex precision (vertices snap and pop around), affine texture mapping (textures warp weird). I also think the color space they operate in is different? Don't quote me

So you can go hard one way or another or pick and choose what you think looks good! We don't have anywhere near the hardware restrictions they did in the 90s so go nuts.

RESOLUTION

To get a low resolution window, I set the window size of the game and the window override size to different amounts

In green is actually how big the window is on my screen (4k monitor) and in red is the retro resolution I want. If you set the stretch mode correctly (an option a little further down the Window tab) then it'll make the pixels big

COLORS

Now the PS1 had the capability of showing you over 16 million different colors, but it could only display 50,000-150,000 at a time, so in order to get more fidelity out of it, the engineers implemented a dithering effect to better blend the otherwise sharp edges between colors.

I used this shader to achieve the dithering effect. If you don't understand shader languages, that's fine. There are a few different pre-built ones for looking like the PlayStation 1 out there.

TEXTURES

Textures for the PS1 could be as big as 256x256, but they were typically 128x128. And they would squish everything a model needed into there usually, at least with like player models and objects and such.

As mentioned, if you're not good with shader language don't worry. There are countless resources out there that people will either let you use or teach you how it works. But I'm gonna touch on it a little bit here.

PS1 textures had no pixel filtering, so you could see individual pixels.

This is what determines that in the shader code. If you want it to look like the N64 (blurry lol), the proper hint is "filter_linear". Note that it won't be 1:1 with N64, cuz they used bilinear filtering (which kinda sucks and causes weird quirks) whereas now you'll only find linear or trilinear filtering. It's a negligible difference imo.

PS1 textures also were only saved using 15 bit color. I'm told that Photoshop's "Posterize" filter set to 32 can achieve this, but don't use photoshop if you can help it. I use GIMP, and while a newer version might have a posterize filter, or there may be a plugin out there, my version doesn't so I cluge it a little.

Change your color mode to "indexed", set color dithering to how you like it, and the number of colors in the palette to a number to get a good result. Usually I'll do 16, 8, 32, but occasionally I'll cheat and do a non-multiple-of-8 teehee >:3c

You can change it back to RGB after to make further editing easier.

LIGHTING

N64 and PS1 both implemented vertex lighting, as opposed to the more modern and (now) ubiquitous per-pixel lighting. Godot as it is right now (4.2 i think?) claims it has vertex lighting that you can set as a shader property but they're lying and it doesn't work yet.

The old consoles could only handle like, 2 lights though so it doesn't matter much.

The real star of the show, and in my opinion the one thing that makes a game most look like the 90s is the inclusion of vertex colors.

By multiplying the color of your texture by its stored vertex color, you can do all the shading yourself!

Plus you can reuse textures like crazy just by coloring them differently. The N64 also made heavy use of vertex colors by forgoing a texture on models entirely and just painting them using verticies. The only textures on SM64 Mario are his eyes, stache, hat emblem, buttons, and sideburns. Everything else is done with vertex colors.

Here you can see this level from my Crock Land with no vertex coloring, with some of the vertex colors only, and then with the two combined.

Rare loved this. Look at how colorful that cliffside is in Jungle Japes. It makes it so much more interesting than just a brown cliff face. Plus you can see the vertex coloration instead of textures at work on DK and the Gnawty.

My go-to example for PS1 is always Spyro, what a gorgeous game. All of those colors there are not made by a light or an environment. They're hand painted babey! Also! With spyro! The skyboxes are actually just huge domes made up of vertices that are colored in different ways! That's how they can look so colorful and "hi-res".

There's plenty more you can do, like adding a CRT filter or a little bit of chromatic aberration which I haven't gotten into yet.

The way I've learned all this is just by being curious as to how the old consoles did their thing, and slowly accruing the knowledge over time. There's still infinite stuff I don't know too.

I hope that helped! And wasn't too longwinded or confusing! Like I said, it's all about piling up tons and tons of little things, small details, weird graphical quirks that really bring out the retro 3D feel for me.

And I didn't even get into the modeling side of things! That's an entirely different "color-of-the-sky"-sized post though.

I'd be happy to re-explain or explain more about any of this!

[kumzorg]

Hi uh,, kumzorg. I watched your 'you're too much' video on youtube, and I think it is really cool. I am really interested on how you did the filters for the backgrounds, as in; what program you used and what filters you applied.

Thanks for your time reading this, bye :D!

ok, first thing i have to admit is im really bad with colors so i rely on effects very often, be it level correction or posterisation or whatever, but i hope my explanation will still be of value to you ^^;

long post ahead

for that video every bg except the first one was taken from google maps, so their quality was always high and crisp, which i DONT like

for example first one I took from Shinsei Kamattechan MV "Michinaru hou e": (神聖かまってちゃん - 美ちなる方へ (youtube.com), and the compressed quality looked very nice when applied with tons of effects on it (My apologies to Noko for erasing them (m > <)m

So I'll go with example of another picture I already used, and scale it down

First I correct the levels and contrast so that details that I need pop out more

Then I use krita feature called "Gradient Map", which has a really nice feature that lets you do dithering with transparency

I copy the original picture and now for the second one I simply posterise it

I join the two new ones together, I usually use whatever effect I feel like but I personally really like the one called "Combine Normal Map"

now i copy the original picture AGAIN, and blur it with different constrast levels this time

I use Gradient Map on it again, this time with different dithering settings and color

I combine it with the previous one whily applying effects like Overlay or Burn

Now i'm mostly done, i scale up this new image slightly so that pixels are blurred, for a more washed out effect (plus some additional effects if your heart feels like it)

I posterise it once more so that colors bleed together nicely and now im done!

Just put whatever 2d freak you want over it and what the hell is this now (ಠ_ಠ)

(My first inspiration was from Shizuku VN, it had really cool backgrounds which had dark uneasy atmosphere, so i can kinda understand the comments that said they got a mysterious and liminal feeling from the video lol)

[shelandsorcery]

Etching and Acid Baths and Surrender

(this is another classic from my personal site I'm belatedly resharing on tumblr, ftr)

Friends, I just finished teaching the last third of a course on print production, and between that and the whole thing with twitter's crop changing (somewhere? not for me but somewhere?) I've found myself thinking a lot about copper etching and my relationship with the acid bath.

So, first up, copper etching is an art form where you engrave (through various means) thin grooves into a copper plate, then squeeze thick ink into those grooves, then wipe off the ink on the face of the plate, then soak paper so it's very soft, then push it all through a press.The pressure forces the paper into the ink-lined grooves of the plate, pushing the ink onto the paper, and you thus transfer the image from your copper plate to your paper. It's a magnificent art form you've certainly seen examples of, even if you didn't know! Here, a Rembrandt:

There's a lot of ways to create these grooves in the plate; Rembrandt used a steel point and scratched them in, a technique called drypoint. Later, artists used a technique where a waxy resist would coat the plate, then drew lines in the resist, then soaked the plate in acid.

This is the acid bath of which I speak.

There's a few ways to apply resist to a plate, and they give you different effects when you etch with them. First is a hard resist, which is a thick, firm wax that coats the plate and is removed by using that steel drypoint tool to create thin line work, like this Doré hatching:

You can also use soft resist, a malleable wax that allows you to press textures into it, like Barbara Smith has in her piece "Textures" here:

(my terminology might be a bit off, I'm noticing as I google, but hopefully the metaphor will still stand) 

And the third method, my fav, is aquatint; a process where you add a resist that is .. spotty. Something like a light spray, or a dusting of wax, so that the plate is covered with a rough, dithered dot pattern of resist, with exposed copper in between. Example via Wikipedia:

I decided to try out copper plate etching, also called intaglio print making, after seeing David Blackwood's work, where he works with aquatint extensively:

Aquatint lets you lay down fields of tone, which he uses in great contrast and collaboration with the linework he etches into the plate as well. It's magnificent work, but it's made all the more miraculous when you understand the whole thing with the acid bath. So, when you put a copper plate into the acid bath, anywhere on the plate that isn't protected by hard, soft or aquatint resist (also called ground) is slowly dissolved into the acid, creating little grooves. The longer it's in the bath, the deeper the grooves - kind of.

The acid is fickle, and the more copper already dissolved into it, the slower it will dissolve new copper. And that's a problem because you want to control exactly how deep those grooves go; the deeper the groove, the more ink it will hold, the darker the line will be on paper. Under-etch your plate, and your lines will be faint, hold very little ink, and be extremely hard to get ink INTO when you apply it before making a print.

But you can't know this until you take all that resist off the plate, wash it, and ink it up and print it.

OVERetch your plate, and the acid will start to eat the copper away from under your resist, widening your lines or flattening out your aquatint, so it's easy to get ink into the lines, but hard not to wipe it back out when you try and wipe ink off the un-etched face of the plate.

Again, not obvious until you go and try printing your plate.

And with intaglio, by which I mean copper plate etching, you might want lines of varying darknesses - you might want aquatint of varying darknesses - and so you will be adding and removing resists of various kinds, and etching and re-etching your plate over and over again.

And you can do various things to get the feel for the acid bath's ... acidity ... on the day you go to etch something in it, but depending on the size of your bath, you etching a large plate for a while might change the bath's acidity. Worst is if it's fresh and you didn't know.

So this whole art form, whereby people produce some of the most precise and exquisite pieces in the north western historical canon IMO, is actually an absurd collaboration with a rogue chemical that may or may not do what you want at any point in time.

And by my third year of making work like this, I had concluded that you simply had to think of the acid bath as a rogue collaborator who you handed your plate off to over and over again throughout your process. You had to just take a deep breath and accept chaos as an element.

Yes, you did your best to prepare your plate, get the right resist on it, draw the right lines where you wanted them; and yes you set a timer and kept an eye on your plate and checked the etch over and over again - but in the end you were teaming up with chaos chemistry.

And I loved it! I loved the surprises you got from acid bath, even if they went against what I had planned. I loved improvising around its unpredictability! Once I accepted that it was part of the practice, I found it exhilirating.

And for me, that's the appeal of all traditional media - I can't predict every little thing, I'm not 100% in control at all times, and artwork has to happen despite all that.

And so I expanded this concept for myself out to my larger practice. When I send a file to print? I'm collaborating with a printer; both the person, who I can maybe talk to, and the machine, that will have its own peccadillos. I prepare as best I can and still I may be surprised.I'm not saying I never threw out plates that got way out of hand, and I'm not saying I never had a print run of my work I had to send back or reprint - I'm just saying that my thought process around them has changed, so I allow for a wider range of surprises than I used to.

So when everyone was going on about the twitter crop finally changing, and I realized I didn't really care, I noticed that I had expanded this concept to publishing online as well. I prep a nice jpg and then I take a deep breath and accept twitter's chaos in collaboration.

And that's how I discovered that, to me, twitter is just another acid bath.

Read the full article

[passingspiritz]

Its attack on titan the last attack cinema day for me! I’m so excited! I made this yesterday so this is a scheduled post :b

I’ve included the Timelapse and some photos to show how you can replicate this yourself too! All my posters up til now have been made in primarily procreate mobile with only the last two days being also with ibis paint x and sometimes ditherable

How I made this poster!

1. Get an image or images manipulate them into how you want them, I normally edit in procreate using colours and bloom but today I used ibispaintx I clicked filter then glow outer and changed the colour

2. Then I went to an app called ditherable, there you upload the image you just made and decide which design you like in the end, the app is really easy to use! Perfect for creating different effects

3. This is my procreate Timelapse for the poster, as you can see the red image just appears and that’s as I made it in ibispaintx and ditherable and then reloaded it back onto my canvas

I’m really bad at explaining things and have never shown how to do things like this to anyone so i apologise if it’s not explained enough, if you have any questions I can answer to the best I can! There are many other things and ways I’ve made the posters but if you want to make something like this one, this is how I do it :)

[layingeggs]

I did it! 000 points! Goose egg for christmas.

Friends, please play Twnkl Gft. It's a lovely little quick and easy to pick up game available on itch io and with an expanded version on steam.

The pseudo 3D effect is trippy and unique and cool. Everything has a face. Protagonist is high concept and dropped on your lap without any explanation. Feels distinctly retro in a way that a lot of today's nostalgic indie games just don't quite capture.

I feel as though at any point we will be treated to a lavish closeup of a lovingly rendered and pixel dithered christmas person doing a sponsorship bit for Freddo chocolate. It feels like that kind of retro.

You can also play it one-handed. Which is cool! Though it's a very frenetic game that made me want to use both hands anyway.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Gulp, here goes. Putting myself out there a bit here… and have dithered about pressing ‘post’ for days!

I’ve set myself a challenge - to finish my big Earth&Sky fic, Resurface. It’s so close and I have an absolutely gorgeous piece of fanart I commissioned from someone wonderful which I wanted to post when the story was complete and I’ve had it waiting almost a year now which is crazy! 🤭😖🫣

It has now been so long that it feels kind of strange to just post the ending to it out of the blue, sort of anti-climactic which would be a shame when it’s a really big deal for me to finish something like this, so I thought I’d try something to give myself a kind of run-up…

…

I’m going to repost the series as I read back through it over the next couple of weeks. Actually in order this time (rather than the haphazard way I wrote it) and so I can tidy up all the loose ends and typos I was intending to and also as an exercise in writing short chapter summaries because I suck at those and want to get better at it!!! I guess my success at that will be determined by whether anyone clicks read more 😏

I shall tag it all with #idkry fic repost and #mia fic repost so please feel free to filter either or both of those if you’ve seen it before / don’t want to see stuff that isn’t brand new / just not interested. If it’s annoying, I’m sorry but it’ll be short lived!

For once in my life I’m not going to be all bashful about it - I actually think it’s pretty good (best thing I’ve ever written anyway) and from a very random start it developed in an interesting way and has lots of themes and references and mirrors and all that gubbins that had proper names when I was studying English Lit but I’ve forgotten now. And… well, I’ve had a lot of fun with it.

As always, if you’re reading and you enjoy please do fling a ❤️ on the post - I really don’t subscribe to this passive-aggressive ‘likes don’t count you have to reblog or comment’ business on tumblr - not everyone has time or energy for that and I find the likes beyond encouraging. This will hopefully push me to get the thing wrapped up - the ending I have planned is quite satisfying I think :)

General series TWs for military, prisoner of war, non-graphic torture, grief, mental health issues, relapse, hospital, section, poor coping strategies, psychosis… but also despite that making it sound really grim the majority of it is a lot of brotherly love, puppy piles, deep talks, hair product headcanons, Kansas, octopus Scott, artist Virgil, the clothing fairy, Grandma being Grandma… not to mention a bit of actual character development (some people might even learn some lessons and try to effect positive change)!

All the Tracy boys feature and get a little prodded by my big meanie writing stick, but despite Scott being the one incarcerated at the start of it, it’s dear Virgil who gets the majority of the whacking over the head with it in this. Kayo is there but doesn’t get a lot of plot (apologies, she just didn’t speak to me much this time).

It starts pretty bleak… if you don’t wanna see poor Scotty in prison camp then skip the first of the stories (Bearded) and start at Presence - there are a fair few imagery references back to the first part later on, but it isn’t vital plot-wise.

Ok enough rambling… next post I’ll get going!

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Bearded

1. Bearded

Awaiting rescue from the prison camp, Scott tries to maintain a grip on the one thing he has a lot of. He just needs to be patient - someone would come soon, right?

2. Cold

The weather has taken a turn for the worse and Scott is trying not to do the same. Maybe his family can be an anchor in the storm?

3. Disappointment

Scott’s captors try an alternative method of breaking him but he’s not as alone as they think believe he is.

4. Quiet

Scott’s not sure how long, or how much of himself he has left. But something has changed and he just needs to hold on long enough…

Presence

1. Presence 2. Absence 3. Divulgence

4. Patience 5. Essence

Composition

1. Da Capo 2. Call 3. Response

4. Poco a Poco Crescendo

[pictureamoebae]

Another couple of shots using the Nice Guy Lamps shader, just to show what's possible (they're not great shots lol), also the settings I was using in the earlier shots. I want to play around more with the depth options today.

Original Lighting: lower = darker background; higher = more of the original scene's lighting comes through

Position: left = moves the light from left to right; middle = moves the light up and down; right = not sure but I think it moves the light forward and back

Precise Position: same as above but different. The right-hand number at -0.002 was perfect for the strength of light and shadows I wanted. Any higher or lower had a huge impact on how it looked

Shadow Softness: anything higher than 0 causes noise/dither on the edges of shadows. I believe he wants to fix this one day but for now it means this is really only suited for anything where sharp shadows look good.

You can add 4 different 'lamps' or point lights. I only needed 1 for this effect, which aims to simulate flash photography. Adding more could be really cool for photoshoots, especially since you can change the colour. I'm going to experiment in the little in-game photo studio I've build later and see what I can do. Having the option of 4 lamps also means you can set up 1 like this for flash photography, then turn that off and turn on the others for different situations without having to lose and reset your settings all the time.

[scotianostra]

On 7th February 1716, the Jacobite army disbanded at Aberdeen, ending the 1715 uprising.

James Francis Edward Stuart had fled to France with many leading Jacobites three days earlier and it would be almost thirty years before his son Charles would try to claim the throne.

When Queen Anne, the subject of yesterdays post, died on August 1st, 1714, inadvertently fulfilling her ancestor James V’s prophecy about the House of Stuart – “it cam wi’ a lass, it’ll gang wi’ a lass.” The Stuarts had ruled over Scotland and then the United Kingdom since 1371, and the end of the dynasty was viewed by many Scots as a tragedy.

Her successor George I, Elector of Hanover, arrived in London seven weeks later to claim his throne, but there was already considerable resentment against him because Scotland were imposed with the Hanoverian succession – there would be no separate crowning at Scone for this King of Scots.

Yes there had been another uprising a few years before, but historians all agree that the ‘15 was the best opportunity to put their monarch of choice back on the throne.

James’s cause in the west of the highlands proved unattractive at first, but Aberdeen, Dundee and Inverness fell to Mar without a shot, the only major stronghold north of the Tay that was still in Hanoverian government hands was Fort William.

Perth was captured in late September but a lighting raid on Edinburgh Castle by a small detachment of Jacobites failed – reportedly there were enough arms and cash deposits in the Castle to equip half an army.As it was, Mar now had thousands of troops under his command and James Stuart, who had no prior knowledge of the rising, made him his commander – but where was the ‘king’ himself? James was agitating with the French government to give him men and ships to no avail, but in Scotland and England, the rising was already well under way.

Against Mar stood only the troops under the Duke of Argyll’s command, and they were surely too few in number to stand against the Jacobites, even though reinforcements came from the Hanoverian garrison in Ireland.The Jacobite lords of Northumberland had risen, and were supposed to meet up with a force heading south through the west coast of England. This consisted of English Jacobites and a force from the Scottish Borders and at first they, too, swept aside all resistance.

However their ambitions were thwarted following their failings at the Battle of Sheriffmuir, and Bobbin John’s inadequacies as a leader in not pressing home the advantage, The Earl of Mar, to give him his real name, was by nature a ditherer, inexperienced in command and reluctant to advance without having an overwhelming force.

Argyll’s army was outnumbered two to one but he had experienced and battle-hardened troops under him, as well as a superior cavalry force. Mar’s Jacobites were inexperienced in mass pitched battles, and their commander was no strategist.

The tale of the Battle of Sheriffmuir on November 13, 1715, is simple – both right wings smashed through their opponents, the clans’ highland charge sending the government army into flight.

Crucially, they lost discipline and chased after the fleeing force and without those troops, Mar decided to hold his ground because Argyll’s right wing had beaten the Jacobite army’s left wing, albeit with heavy losses.

Mar may not have known that Argyll was down to around 1000 effective troops and that victory was his for the taking. Whatever the reason, Mar did not press home any further attack and though he claimed victory because there were slightly more dead Hanoverian soldiers than Jacobites, the strategic advantage had been lost and the Rising in Scotland had effectively been halted.

At the same time in England the Jacobites were beaten at Preston, ending their part in the Uprising.

It was over a month before James Stuart arrived in Scotland on a single ship with no soldiers and no clear idea what he wanted to do. Argyll sat waiting for reinforcements, while many of Mar’s troops went home to bed down for the winter.

The Jacobite King was devoid of command skills and charisma, and was also sick, which forced him to cancel a planned coronation at Scone and return to France, where he had been living under the protection of King Louis XIV of France, he never set foot in Scotland again, and it would be up to his as of then unborn son to try nearly 30 years later.

You can find more snippets of both the ‘15 and ‘45 Uprisings around Aberdeen here https://www.aberdeencity.gov.uk/sites/default/files/2020-09/Jacobite%20Trail.pdf

[mismedleym]

you 3d model has such beautiful pixel dithering! is this in post processing, or does it have more to do with the render settings on the initial export?

the dithering happens after the render with SLK _img2pixel so i can play around with the pixel size and colour palette as much as i want :) although to initially reduce the resolution and pixelate i used krita before applying the dither effect, just because i found the resolution reduction in krita translated the details nicer than it did with the resolution reduction in img2pixel

[brabblesblog]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Chapter 17: Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Astarion begins to unravel the mystery of Ban's family.

Professionally edited and collaborated on by my dearest friend <3 @editing-by-night

Masterlist

Read on AO3.

Art by @nyx-knox <3

Astarion sat with his legs crossed. The stool was as filthy as when he’d last seen it, but he’d accepted it this time, if only to accentuate the desired effect. In front of him Roderich dithered, trying to explain away his actions - not that Astarion cared. He forced his attention back onto the man, as unpleasant as it was, and leaned forward.

“It was a desperate time. There wasn’t enough money to fund our… our way of living, and the guild is rich. Far richer than it had any right to be,” Roderich stammered. “Meiros must have taken some too! I’m sure he skimmed some off the top as well, considering there was no one to look into his activities. He’s just as guilty, his hands just as bloody. I don’t see why you would even begrudge me this!”

None of this stayed in Astarion’s mind. He had considered the information irrelevant. “Repeat the last thing you said,” he drawled. “Your bleating proved too much for me.”

Roderich clenched his jaw, looking out the store windows. The moment Astarion had walked in and demanded an audience he had sent his customers away, telling them to come back in half an hour. They were outside, waiting, and the minutes were ticking by. “I just think… this conversation should be held somewhere else, if at all.”

If at all. If nothing else, he could admire Roderich’s nerve. He lazily looked over to the small group of people waiting outside. Behind them his carriage loomed, black and gold and waiting to whisk him away from this drivel.

“Oh, but I haven’t yet touched on why we’re having this conversation.” He crossed his arms. “Did you really think I would care about you stealing guild funds?”

“I suspected you wanted to punish me for… for whatever imagined slights you think we committed against our daughter.” He took a deep breath. “We’ve done nothing of the sort. She may have been unhappy, but everything we did was for her wellbeing - her success.”

“Your success,” Astarion corrected. “I daresay I’ll be the judge of whether wrongdoings were committed or not - and they have,” he glared, “but that isn’t why I’m here. Nor is it why I’m bringing up your financial indiscretions.”

Astarion looked at Roderich, relishing the way the older man looked at him - equal parts fear and indignation. He could feel Roderich’s anger bubbling, his wariness keeping him from allowing it to boil over. Any other man would have assumed Astarion couldn’t do much in public, with the crowd peering at them as it was. But Roderich knew that if he pushed him too far, he’d find himself waking up to fangs sinking into his neck.

So Astarion waited for Roderich to master his temper, idly looking past him to the display of mirrors. He was reflected in all of them, from various angles, and he couldn’t resist admiring himself a little. From the corner of his eye he saw two of the patrons outside fanning themselves and rolled his eyes.

Finally Roderich found his voice. “Then what was this visit for?”

Astarion smiled and returned his attention to Roderich. “A matter near and dear to Ban’s heart, and therefore mine. Your son.”

Roderich spluttered. “Adrien? We already told you-”

“And we are painfully aware you’re lying.” He gazed at Roderich’s reflection, eyes boring into him. “Don’t make it difficult, Roderich. We can have a nice, civil conversation,” he thought about it, “or I’ll have to resort to less… pleasant measures.”

Roderich sighed. “I… of course. I would at least prefer to talk in private. Perhaps in my home.”

“Fine. I can’t keep the good citizens desperately wanting mirrors waiting, can I?” There was also the fact he figured having Arlette around for this conversation might be better - if only so that he could have all possible information at hand. That, and watching the people peering at him through the glass was starting to grate.

“Thank you,” Roderich breathed. “After the day is done, head there. I can have Arlette prepare supper, and you could bring Ban.”

Astarion stood. Roderich tracked every move he made, but didn’t speak. Astarion stepped closer, enough so that he could look down at him. “Just me, unfortunately. My wife has far more important business to attend to. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

The raised eyebrow made Roderich shrink back, to Astarion’s satisfaction. The man rubbed at his bald head. “Why of course. We’d be more than happy to host you.”

A wide smile graced Astarion’s face, the tips of fangs peeking out. “I’m glad to know that. Provide my chauffeur with your address, and I shall be there tonight.”

The house was large, situated against the walls of the upper city, although just like the shop it showed signs of neglect. As he approached, the door opened before he could even rap his knuckles against it. Arlette’s pale face greeted him and this time her eyes did not rake over his features. As he stepped into the house she looked at his feet and cleared her throat.

“Erm. Your shoes, if you would be so kind.”

He fixed her with a pointed look and stepped forward anyway. The request reminded him of Ban, but he brushed the thought aside. She had stayed home, knowing he was handling the issue with her family. Seeing them again would not do her any favors.

Arlette hurried alongside him, walking fast to keep up with his longer strides. As he walked he took in the house. Ban had lived here most of her life. He allowed his mind to wander a little, musing. Where would she have sat? Had her room been neat? Had she owned dolls? Read books? Had she dreamed of adventures, or being swept off her feet by a dashing prince?

His thoughts were interrupted by Arlette. “I hope you don’t mind. We weren’t sure what you’d prefer to… eat, but we assumed some soup and roast would be-”

Astarion held up a hand. “I prefer we skip the niceties and get to the matter at hand. Where - or rather,” he scanned the house - what he could see of it anyway - finding no sign of a third person, “when am I ever to see this son of yours?”

He had surmised that he wouldn’t see Adrien in his brief conversation with Roderich earlier today. The man had said that he would explain everything, whatever that meant, as he’d hurried Astarion out the door.

As he turned the corner and entered the dining room he saw Roderich sitting at the head of the table, waiting. Roderich stood as Astarion walked in, obviously tense. “There was no need for all that unpleasantness earlier today. We would have told you, had we known what you wanted.”

Astarion sat on the opposite end of the table, steepling his fingers and settling in. He could almost taste their discomfort, and it was gratifying. “We provided you the chance to disclose everything civilly, remember? You chose to lie and be difficult.”

Roderich bristled, but Arlette put a hand on his shoulder. “You could have us removed from the guild, but the coin… it doesn’t exist anymore. It’s gone.” Her eyes locked onto his steepled fingers. “You’ve gotten married.”

“Hm?” He raised his hand for them to see. “Indeed we have. I won’t apologize for the lack of invitation. We wanted only those important to us in attendance.”

He savored the affronted looks from the couple, daring them to voice their complaints. When none came, his thoughts drifted back to the misappropriated guild funds.

He wasn’t surprised. Meiros had mentioned that the Glasscrafts were used to a life of relative luxury; the loss of customers and their retreat from active networking would have put a dent in that. Their theft from the Guild coffers had been discovered a few years ago but Meiros had deemed it unnecessary to take action at the time. Apparently, the amount of coin had not been significant, and he’d felt some pity for Roderich after the disappearance of his daughter was made known. In any case, Astarion was glad; it provided him ample ammunition to leverage the Glasscrafts with, if needed.

Astarion reached for the carafe, pouring himself a glassful of what looked like wine. He sniffed it, ascertaining it to be so, and took a small sip. It felt safe, at least.

“Whether the money is gone or not, all I have to do is to ask. Meiros will act at my behest.” He locked gazes with Roderich, allowing the silence to stretch. He lounged back, waiting.

Roderich broke, clasping his hands together. His eyes were downcast, fixed on his own hands. “After Ban left us, the… arrangement we had with her betrothed’s family fell apart. We needed to find another suitable arrangement, and so we quickly found an associate with a daughter around Adrien’s age.”

“He was displeased, just like she had been, and one night-” Arlette began, but Astarion held up a hand.

He laughed. “You drove both children off the same way? How very ironic. You’d think you’d have learned your lesson the first time, but no - you had to push the other away too!” The savage glee he felt definitely raised Arlette’s hackles - he saw her eye the fireplace poker.

“Oh. I wouldn’t even attempt that, Arlette.” He waved a hand at her. “Or you could try your luck, I suppose. I wouldn’t mind livelier fare tonight.” He gave her a quick grin, baring his fangs, and was satisfied when she backed down.

“A wise choice.” He curled his lip. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? ‘My son left, same as my daughter did, because I was an abusive ass’,” He copied Arlette’s cadence, the smile only widening as she seethed. His eyes then returned to Roderich. “Now. I’m assuming you know where your son went?”

He knew the answer was likely not. Ban had, after all, stayed in the lower city for several years, within the same city, and her parents had never bothered to seek her out. He surmised they were the type who would not deign to head into the lower city unless absolutely necessary.

Roderich sighed. “We asked everyone we could ask. All we know is that the night he left…” he glanced over at his wife; Arlette finally sat down beside him, glaring at Astarion.

“Contrary to your assumptions, my lord, Adrien’s departure was not like Ban’s.” She sneered, or her best approximation of one, anyway; her fear of him prevented her from managing true disdain. “He did not take anything with him. No clothes, no extra coin. No materials other than what he’d usually bring on a night out.”

“We had an argument,” Roderich interjected. “The usual one, about him wanting his… freedom,” he scoffed, “to choose his spouse, and how the girl we’d betrothed him to was a spoiled, overgrown child.”

“And ugly, to boot.” Arlette shrugged. “He wasn’t wrong, but really.”

“So he left to cool off. Not an unusual occurrence, except he didn’t return. We assumed he’d found someone to keep him company for the night, and would return on the morrow, but… he never did.”

The hardness in Arlette’s features disappeared for once. “We waited. Days, weeks, months. We asked folks that we knew. No one knew where he’d gone, nor had they seen him. It was as if he’d disappeared into thin air. There were whispers we heard then, rumors.”

To Astarion’s surprise, Roderich pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re Szarr’s heir, are you not? You would know better than most. The stories of folk disappearing, of debauched parties in the night. You would know.”

His pique rose. “And you know someone who’s disappeared, beside your own children? Both of whom ran away of their own free will?” Astarion challenged. They’d been specifically forbidden from hunting in the upper city. Cazador had preferred victims from the lower classes, and rightfully so. Nobody ever went looking for them, not for long anyway.

Roderich looked away. “Well… no.”

“What does it matter? Whatever those rumors were alluding to - they’re obviously true!” Arlette stood and rounded on him, hands on the table. “Look at you. Look at what you made our child into.”

Astarion refused to allow their words to slip under his skin. Her anger was meaningless. All the same, he couldn’t resist baring his fangs at her. “I’d be careful pointing fingers, Arlette. Your daughter left too, and she didn’t end up as food for… monsters, did she?”

“Well, she became one herself!”

He laughed, the sound theatrical and dangerous. He stood as well. “Considering that she was raised by a pair of them, I doubt she found it much of a leap.”

Arlette screamed in frustration, scrabbling for the knife on the table. Astarion watched, amused, as Roderich slammed his hand down on her wrist, preventing her from aiming it at him.

“Let her go. Let her try, if she chooses to.” Astarion crossed his arms.

Roderich shot his wife a warning glare, then slowly lifted his hand away. She stood there for a second, chest heaving, hand clenched around the knife. Astarion merely stared indifferently.

Finally she cursed, letting go of the knife. “I would say I hope the gods curse you, but… I think you’re already there,” she spat.

He took it in stride. “Rude of you, really, when I’m here to find your son. Not to return him to you, of course, but I would have at least informed you when I found out if he was safe, something you two have obviously failed to determine.”

Roderich’s eyes bulged. “You dare-”

“Yes. I dare.” He picked up his glass and refilled it with painful, deliberate slowness, dragging the moment out. “I assume you asked people you knew, not people Adrien knew.”

“He didn’t have a lot of friends. He kept to himself.”

“Perhaps he did not prefer the company you made him keep?”

The two did not respond. Astarion swirled the wine lazily. “Tch. Your investigation was incomplete. If you employed the same methods you did when Ban first left, then you certainly haven’t even scoured this city, let alone further.”

Roderich gulped. “We… did not look for her.”

Astarion blinked. He balled his fists, and the urge to snap their necks was almost irresistible. “You… did not look for Ban, but looked for Adrien.” He said it slowly, enunciating each word, voice dripping with venom.

“She left with most of her belongings. And, well… Adrien was still there…” Arlette stammered, shrinking back as Astarion began to stalk towards them.

“Of course. Your beloved son was there, so what did her departure cost? Nothing.” He drew closer, eyes narrowed into slits. “Why would one failed arrangement matter, when you had the more valuable piece still in play, hm?”

He raised his eyebrow as Arlette finally grabbed the knife and lunged for him. Too slow, of course, but he admired her verve. Roderich reached for her, but Astarion was faster, catching her wrist effortlessly. He pulled her close, hissing against her ear.

“I would relish the opportunity to rip you apart, and then tear your husband into pieces,” he whispered. “But I doubt Ban would be pleased to find out that I’ve eviscerated her parents without asking her first. Consider this, however, your final warning. One more false move,” he pried the knife from her hands and set it down on the table, “and I will accept her ire and act in… well, let’s say self-defense.” He let her go, and she sank back onto her chair, her husband standing protectively behind her. He eyed Roderich.

“Any complaints?” He didn’t respond, and Astarion smirked. “I thought so.”

He leaned against the table, making a show of looking at his nails. “So. You did not bother to search for Ban, but did so for Adrien. Despicable, but unsurprising from you lot.” He raked his eyes over the pair. As much as he wanted to rip into them, there was the far more urgent need of actually finding out where Ban’s brother was. “When you say you searched for Adrien… who exactly did you talk to?”

“Like you said,” Arlette said, her voice small. “We asked the people we knew. The rumors about Cazador Szarr became the only lead we had. And it was just… that. Whispers. Someone knew someone who knew someone, who’d heard stories.”

Astarion shrugged. “No doubt it was easier to believe a monster had taken your son than to think the ones in his own home had pushed him away.” He glanced at them, daring them to try contesting his words. When no dissent came, he returned his attention to his fingernails.

“I shall be conducting my own investigation. If I find Adrien…” he considered this for a moment, “and he does not want to be found, I shall tell you of his survival at the very least, if you two cooperate with my search and never come close to either of them, ever again.”

“But-”

“It’s that, or I seek out Adrien on my own and you never learn what I discover. I’ll also request Meiros to very kindly look into the missing funds from the guild treasury. And were you to breathe a single word of what Ban and I are, well. I never refuse a free meal.”

The two exchanged a long glance, and then finally nodded. Satisfied, Astarion straightened up. “Are we agreed, then?” Slowly, they nodded again.

Astarion sat back down. “If you could provide more details - how Adrien looked, what he was wearing, the date of his disappearance, any other details you would deem pertinent - that would be delightful.”

“We last saw him four years ago, a year after Ban left. He was twenty-one then,” Roderich provided.

Four years younger than Ban, Astarion noted. “And the day?”

“Thirteenth, of Alturiak. It was a chilly, rainy night.”

This, he also noted. “Was he dressed appropriately?” If not, Adrien could not have gone far without purchasing a cloak.

“He was, to a point,” Arelette offered. “He was wearing the jacket I’d made him. It did not have a hood.”

Astarion sighed. That widened his circle somewhat, and reduced his chances. He had hoped to encounter a vendor who might have sold him clothes. He took a long look at the couple.

Arlette walked away, quickly leaving the dining room. He could hear her rummaging around and she came back with a locket. To his surprise she pressed it onto his palms.

“This is a portrait of Adrien. We stowed all the family portraits away when he disappeared. It was… too painful… to look at the mantelpiece and see his face. But this should help.”

He opened it to reveal a young man. There was a small tug of familiarity, and little wonder. He had strikingly dark eyes - Ban’s eyes. Raven-black hair, the same golden skin, the same half-smile. He could be her twin, he thought as he closed the locket.

Along with the locket was a cufflink. It looked expensive, jewel-encrusted, and he held it to the light.

“His favorite cufflinks. We never found the other.” Roderich nodded at it. “We assume he had it that night.”

Astarion pocketed both items and stood. “I shall write to you if there are any developments. If anything comes up, I shall expect the same courtesy. You do remember where to write, yes?”

“The Crimson Palace,” Roderich said, and Astarion smirked. He’d never forgiven the man for not knowing that the first time they’d met.

“Perfect.” He reached over and downed his glass. “Thank you for the dinner. It was most… enlightening.”

He gave them a small, sardonic bow, and headed for the door.

Astarion fingered the clasp of the locket as the carriage made for the palace, flicking it open with one hand. He stared at the face looking back at him, frowning. The other half of the locket had a piece of paper in it instead of a portrait, one seemingly folded in half. He reached in, pulling it out. The paper was thick; he unfolded it carefully.

The content of the paper was not what he expected, and not anything useful, but he was glad he’d opened it all the same. Ban, from years ago, her face less lined, a little fuller and far softer than she looked now. She was illuminated in what looked like a sunset; the golden light highlighting the side of her face that it hit. Her hair wasn’t tied back in her usual ponytail, or even the bun she occasionally preferred - it fell in loose, long waves, framing her face. He’d seen her with her hair down of course, but almost never in public.

He ran his finger down the side of her face, then traced those lips he’d come to know so intimately. His thoughts drifted back to her, of her youth spent in that house and in that shop. He couldn’t recall his own past - two centuries of torment had ensured it was all but gone - but he did not envy Ban hers. Astarion closed the locket, but kept her portrait for himself, pocketing it.

As the carriage drew to a stop and he stepped out, he spied her in the foyer, waiting. The sight never failed to make his heart swell, and he made a beeline for her.

“Home at last,” she said, as he drew close for a quick kiss. “I trust everything went well?”

“Mm… well enough.” He had no intention of informing her of anything until everything was laid bare, as they had agreed upon. “Some progress has been made, I would say, but nothing concrete as yet. You’ll have to wait a little longer.” He’d told her where he’d been headed, but had not informed her of any pertinent details.

She led him to the dining room, not bothering to turn towards him as she spoke. “It’s not a huge pain. I’ve… not even thought of them in so long. I can stand to wait a little longer to see how Adrien’s doing.”

He helped her into her seat before seating himself. Taking a bite from her fork, she eyed him. “Were your dealings with Meiros at least helpful?” Whatever their arrangement was, she hoped it had been useful.

“Yes… and no,” Astarion admitted. “I would have achieved the same effect without it, but it would probably have taken more… convincing. I would not have minded doing that, but you might have.”

Ban scoffed. “As prideful as they are, they’re cowards. They’re frightened of you - of… of us now, I suppose. I have little doubt they’d immediately cave.”

He laughed, remembering today’s encounter. “You’d be surprised. Your mother may or may not have attempted to kill me.”

“She wouldn’t.” Her eyes widened at the look on Astarion’s face. “You… you’re serious. Really?”

“With a knife, which I’m sure would have done the job, given enough time.” He began to eat. “I can see where you inherited your… spirit.”

“You mean to say my temper.”

He bit back a mirthful bark. “Your words, darling, not mine.”

There was silence for a while as they both ate. Astarion’s eyes flicked over to her, unconsciously comparing her face with the portrait that was now in his pocket. He burned with a desire to ask her for more, but wasn’t quite sure how to broach it.

Her eyes drifted away from Halsin’s wedding gift on the mantelpiece - a dragon sitting on its haunches - and noticed his staring. She tilted her head. “Something on my face?”

He shook his head. “Is there a reason why you wear your hair the way you do now?” He fingered the paper inside his pocket, then took it out, handing it to her.

She unfolded it, silent as she took in the portrait. “Mother preferred my hair down. Said it would hide the… features of my face. One of the few things she and I did not disagree on.”

Astarion considered this. He ran his eyes down her current - and now permanent - physique, mulling over the potential implications. She handed the portrait back to him and returned to her meal; he quickly stored it. He was sure he’d ask about it some other time, but for now, he was content with what she had revealed.

They were walking in the garden after dinner when he broached the topic. “Darling… was your mother the first person to tell you you aren’t… attractive?”

She paused and turned to look at him, half bent over to look at a particularly large rose. “What makes you think that?”

“Your comment about your hair. The way you always glance at the prettiest woman in any room, then down at yourself. The clothing choices - cloaks, capes.” He ticked these off with his fingers. “Even your hair. Held up now, yes, no longer quite hiding - but still plain. As if you feel like any adornment other than your braids would be a waste.”

“Well.” She took a deep breath, then plucked the flower. “Having my hair up became a habit after I ran away. Came with the job, really. Fighting with it loose would be unwise.” She straightened up, smelling the rose.

“And everything else?”

She chuckled. “Everything else you got spot-on.” She fell into stride beside him, tucking the flower by her ear.

“You are perfect, and your mother is a wretched woman whose opinions have no real merit, other than in her own miserable mind. You’d do well to realize none of her comments had any worth.”

Ban raised both arms, flexing them at him. “This isn’t what you’d normally see on a beautiful woman, Astarion. Not what most men would want, even.”

“Yet you chose that,” he noted. “Perhaps you wanted to be strong, truly strong, unlike what your mother wanted you to be.”

“She wanted me strong, but not in this way, that’s true. This I chose for myself.” She put her hands down, then ran her hand down the swell of a tricep. “I wanted it, yes, but I’m also aware this isn’t-”

“And why should we bother with the opinions of fools and miscreants who would not know how to tell a gem from a rock?”

“Because… I mean, Astarion. Let’s face it.” She took both of his hands, and he fixed his gaze on her. “Look at me. Then look at yourself. Tell me you don’t see what they see. You even said it yourself - they see me as a trivial matter in their path to you, right? Because I look the way I do.”

“Then they can shove their frankly insipid, dull ideas of attractiveness,” he snarled, “far, far up their own asses. And if they dared to breathe a word of it to you, or me… well.” A smile broke through her dismay, exactly as he’d hoped, and he led her to the fountain. He slipped behind her as they both admired it.

“You are beautiful to me,” he murmured, “and considering I am looked upon as world-endingly beautiful myself, that ought to mean something, shouldn’t it?” He leaned in, the humor slipping away. “Trust me.”

Those familiar words sent a shiver down her spine. Trust. Something she had given so freely before, and something she had been giving again recently, even though there were times that it still felt hard. It would be work, she knew - she’d need time to do better, just as he had - but she hoped she was at least making some headway. Her mind wandered, away from thoughts of her appearance to hoping this conversation was at least a sign of progress in his eyes.

“Ban?” Astarion paused from the path his lips had been making down her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

Ban turned to focus on his face. She could see the fear beginning to creep in his eyes, and she quickly kissed him. He visibly eased, exhaling.

“I- I thought for a moment…”

“No. You did nothing wrong.” She kissed his jaw, then his cheek, running a comforting hand through his hair. He leaned into the touch, eyes shuttering. She fought the instinct to just leave it at that, and pushed on. “Can you tell me, love, if all this… everything I’ve been trying to do... Has it been working?”

“Your hair could stand to be decorated sometimes.” One look at her withering glare and he shifted gears. “Er - the wedding arrangements were more than sufficient,” he said automatically, “and I think everyone went home satisfied. Well, perhaps not Minsc, but-”

“Astarion,” she said, a note of urgency in her tone. “Quit deflecting. You know what I mean. Fixing… this. Us. Being better for you.” Somehow these words felt harder to say than even her wedding vows, and she tamped down the voice inside her that told her that this was unnecessary talk.

“Yes.” He met her gaze, uncertain, but unafraid. The irony was not lost on her. “I suppose the wedding and the whole…” he waved a hand, “...game, occupied most of our time recently, but, yes.” His eyes darted across her face, and he bit his lip. “I see more of you. Feel more of you.” As soon as he said it his eyes flicked away, and she caught it.

“Please?” she asked, and he exhaled.

“I would be lying if I said everything is perfect.” He braced himself, then met her gaze head-on. “It’s far too soon to tell for certain, and we’re both aware that wedding planning wasn’t the most… normal of times.”

“I understand.” She leaned forward and rested her head against his collarbone. “But I promise you. I will be who you want me to be… maybe not the hair, though.”

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I will adore you regardless of who you are and what you choose to look like, Ban. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Astarion awoke from his trance just as the sun began to shine, its rays slipping in through a gap in the drapes. He stood up to close them, not wanting Ban to stir. Before he pulled them shut he stood, watching the light touch the wrought-iron fence that enclosed the palace grounds.

He’d have to begin his search somewhere, and it was likely that he would get no answers in the upper city, but he planned on sending some of his staff to ask around just in case. He would handle the lower city himself, figuring that would yield more results, considering Roderich hadn’t explored that option. It likely hadn’t even occurred to him until last night, the idiot.

The question, however, remained. What would happen once they found Adrien? The relationship between the siblings didn’t seem exactly… warm. His eyes wandered over to Ban’s sleeping form, worry creasing his brow.

What if her brother rejected her for what she’d become? For what they had done? There was no need for him to know, but he wasn’t sure if Ban would tell him everything - including the circumstances of the rite. Save for their companions, no one else knew of the price that had been paid. To everyone else, he was a regular noble. To the people he had met on their journey who knew what he was, he had merely found some means of being able to withstand the sun.

Well, other than the Society. They had quickly inferred that it had been a contract of sorts, no thanks to Omeluum. They had kindly kept the information confidential, but he was still irked at the thought that they knew at all. Ban had suggested keeping them close, to foster goodwill, which they had done.

He brushed away the unpleasant path his thoughts had taken. He needed to focus on the matter at hand. Sending out feelers in the upper city, and venturing into the lower city. Ban may know the names of some of Adrien’s associates, the ones their parents hadn’t approved of.

He merely hoped all this would lead to her finding some closure.

[endlich-allein]

If you could describe Till with just five qualities, what would they be?

Till has many qualities, even if he doesn't always realise it himself. I could tell you that he's perfectionist, hard-working, sensitive (even if he hides it very well), thoughtful, intelligent, independent but also attached to the group, supportive, down-to-earth, full of humour (ironic and often dark, very teasing), extremely loyal in friendship (I specify in friendship because in love he's not, in his own words), very very creative (I'd even say that artistic polymathy describes him perfectly), ultra charismatic, etc

But I'll choose five to answer your question :

• Humble : Till is often described as "a humble human being" (Olaf Heine). Despite his fame, he shows a great deal of humility, confessing that he welcomes success "with a lot of humility. And it also scares me a little. It brings responsibility and extreme pressure". He also knows that he is nothing without others, without his friends at Rammstein, without his teams, without the many people he works with, and he never hesitates to put them forward, to recognise their importance and their contribution, to make them feel good and to make sure they don't need anything. As Flake says, "He never pretends to be a great artist who needs to express his deep feelings. He prefers to think about what else can be lit on stage." It reminds me of when Joern Heitmann was doing the video for "Mutter" and Till didn't want to be alone in the video before giving in and saying "Why me ? I'm not special"... Yes, Till, you are special !

• Generous : A man with a big heart, Till shows generosity in his life as an artist, but also in his personal life. As Zoran says, "Till has a heart bigger than a football pitch". Till is very committed to charities and various social causes: sick children, the fight against cancer, Ukraine, refugees, LGBT rights, and so on. He also supports young artists by offering them opportunities to make a name for themselves and by encouraging them. Till is also very generous to us fans. One of the things that means the most to him is giving us the best shows possible, and he puts his heart and soul into them, a true conductor and master of scenography. And this has been the case since the beginning of his career, as Flake says: "An effective and well thought-out stage show was always more important to him."

• Dedicated and willing : Till is extremely dedicated to his art, even if it means compromising his well-being. We've already talked about the fact that he's done a few shows while ill or injured, that he'll do anything to make his videos as realistic as possible, even if it means getting punched in the face. He puts a lot of time and energy into making sure that everything he does is a unique experience. Till is a man of action, he's very pragmatic and prefers to act rather than talk. He is able to turn ideas that were initially theoretical into tangible facts. It is no doubt thanks to this pragmatism that all his projects come to fruition with varying degrees of success. Man of action, he is also very strong-willed. Admittedly, Rammstein has no leader and Till has never wanted to take over the leadership of the band, but we know that he is an authority figure and that when he speaks out, he is listened to. He's capable of making decisions when others are still dithering. Paul said : "We are very lucky with him - I should actually kneel down every day and thank him that we have him."

• Resilient : Throughout his life, he has faced and overcome a variety of personal and professional challenges, including criticism, controversy and media pressure. From an early age, Till has faced major challenges. First the swimming school, separation with his family, long training sessions, iron discipline and intensive doping. Then came the serious accident that put an end to his swimming career and plunged him into uncertainty. The various jobs he took on, and his rebellious and provocative behaviour, didn't help him to find stability. His eldest daughter, Nele, whom he brought up alone, dropping her off at school in the morning before going with his friends to steal and sell cars on the border with the Czech Republic, and picking her up again in the evening. His career as a musician, playing wherever he was needed, sometimes bass, sometimes drums. His violent relationship with his father and their inability to understand each other. And then there's Rammstein. A band for which, despite his shyness and introversion, he occupies the roles of singer, frontman and songwriter. Roles that he assumes, despite the enormous pressure and violent criticism, for better or for worse. A band he believed in from the start, and during the second concert he shouted : "Remember the name Rammstein !" And there's everything else we don't know, many other things, and of which Paul said : "We are lucky to have a man with life experience at the front. He went through things that none of us want to experience. Very bad things, but they are useful to us now." Yes, we're lucky that you're here, Till, that you're still here.

• Authentic and unconventional : Till is someone who, off stage, is known for being himself, not conforming to the expectations of others or society. He addresses you with polite honesty, his clear gaze plunged into yours, never twinkling. This honesty is very frank, sometimes sharp but always realistic. Till shows himself as he is, unpretentious, sincere, passionate and sometimes vulnerable. He remains a simple man, attached to his roots, his family. Gitta, his mother said : "Home, that's Mecklenburg. His homeland, his roots, his source of strength." He does not give in to the commercial demands of the music industry, preferring to retain his artistic freedom. And this artistic freedom is expressed with the provocation that has always stuck with him. But this provocation is never gratuitous, it always provokes reactions and reflection. Till is an artist and a man who doesn't fit into any box, prizes and awards leave him indifferent, what he prefers is to do what he loves in his own way...