#are supposed to blend and overlap

[bluuscreen]

laios touden the monster man that you are…

original panel btw

[moe-broey]

Quick and rough Plumeria redesign, mostly just cause...... I gotta do what comes naturally to me, man. Give me some Shapes. Simplify that design or so help me.

I don't have a lot of complex thoughts about it, actually! Just the idea of having a "sexy" outfit that draws the eyes to certain parts of the body -- while simultaneously being modest and Sharp. Having an edge to it. Also!!!! The luna moth inspired wings!!! I wanted to stay within her og color palette, but I've also always thought luna moth wings would suit her... the top wing is vaguely heart shaped, too!

[dcxdpdabbles]

Holiday request: child support

John is in a meeting with the Justice League when Clockwork comes knocking. It's a regular update on security and safety procedures, the kind of boring stuff John would have customarily skipped out on, except that this meeting also covers how to provide younger teams support.

Teams that his son was a part of. If Danny was ever on a mission, that could have ended in him passing simply because some wanker didn't know how to find him or how to help him in time?

So here was John, half slumped over his chair as Batman droned about procedures and policies. He had barely gotten through Wonder Woman's long lecture on support combat.

He was thinking of grabbing a coffee- John's been working on his drinking after making a promise to try and get sober for his son- so he was replacing the urge for alcohol with coffee. It was one of the hardest things he's ever done.

Thankfully, he knows some spells that help with withdrawals. It's better than the alternative, even if some days are shitter than others.

"Hello, Johnny," Coos, the Ancient being of Time, flouting before him in his human form. John can feel every hero's jaw drop even as he smiles awkwardly at the other parent of his child.

"Clockwork." He greets, eyes taking in the gorgeous features of Time. He nods his head towards the bag, flouting by Clockwork. "Lovely to see you as always. Got a gift for me?"

"Hmm." Clockwork flouts down, landing on his feet and surveying the room. His pure red eyes sparkled in amusement as the awestruck members of the Justice League. Even Batman seemed momently thrown- though if that was because of Clockwork's beauty or the insane amount of power pushing down on all their souls was anyone's guess.

"I've come to spend a weekend with my son. And you, I suppose, if you do not mind housing me." Clockwork says, at last, patting the bag. John feels his mouth go dry. Yes, he slept with Acient before and wouldn't be opposed to another round, but Clockwork wasn't his average ex.

Clockwork held the entire multiverse at the tip of his fingers, suspended on his amusement, and it could all be destroyed with a mere snap from the other. If he found disproved of even the slightest thing about how John was raising Danny, he could kill billions of people, or worse, he could take Danny away.

John feels cold dread grip his heart even as he laughs. "Of course, I can house you. I hope you won't find being in the human world too much hassle."

"Oh no. I have the perfect disguise to blend in with the humans." Clockwork assures, pulling out a pair of fetching glasses and a white cane. He places them on his head and taps his stick on the ground before grinning. John finds himself instantly spotting the same cocky curve to Danny's own grin, and his heart swells.

"Now, where is my boy? It's been years since I last saw him." Clockwork pauses before shrugging his head. "Or it's only been nine months in this realm. Still a long time for my son."

The Ancient snaps his fingers, ripping a portal open to the front of Danny's school. He offers his arm to the blond man, nodding toward Gotham Academy. The soft ring of the dismissal bells rings as students start pouring out of the front door in drones. Classes for the day have just ended.

"Come along, Johnny. Guide me." John shoots the Leauge an apologetic smile, knowing they will understand how important this visit is. He loops his arm through Clockwork, while heaving the man's bag over his other shoulder. The soft tapping of Clockwork's cane on the ground is the portal's only sound before it slams closed.

It cuts off the explosion of noise the Leauge makes, but with all those overlapping voices, John has no idea who said what.

Danny walks out of the school with Damian, Jon, and Colin, laughing and beaming at the younger boys. Clockwork pauses for a few seconds before he beams.

"You're doing a great job, Johnny." The Ancient says just as Danny's gaze locks on them. His face fumbles with ripples of emotion before lighting up in glee. He races towards them with a gutted shout, "Father!"

Clockwork opens his arms just as Danny slams into him. John steps back, but the Ancient grabs the sleeve of his trench coat and drags him into the hug.

"A really great job." The non-human whispers into John's ear. He feels a soft caress against his magic as if Clockwork was brushing the hair out of his face. His heart flutters softly, even as Danny beams at them, and various teenagers panic at his boy's beauty.

Something tells John that having his ex visiting won't be as bad as he initially thought.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

redrew issue 15's cover! idw please hmu

alt version/og cover/explaining the changes under the cut:

i didnt know if i preferred the expressions on the evil martys or not so here's the version without them

the coloring on the outfit marty wears in the og cover is kind of mid ill be real. the purple also kind of blended in with the bg so i made him green instead

also about his coloring almost all of his colors aren't seen in the other martys, just so he stands out a little bit more from the rest of them! yeah theres a little bit of overlap but that's for the color cohesion. the rest of them have warm colors + blue so i would like to think the green and grey is a lot more noticable

i changed the two outer marty's outfits so that all of the Evil Martys are wearing something that marty wears in the movies at moments where he could've died. one could argue that the 2015 fit fits into this criteria but i thought getting shot by buford was a little more significant than getting his lights knocked out by griff seeing as the movie built that one up a lot more than the other

also it's a fullbody shot bc. i wanted to

the original rightmost marty is so funny to me. there's fits from the movies and then just a completely random outfit. why is bro colorcoded like the prowler from spiderman? or even doc from the cartoon which actually is a lot more related than the prowler from spiderman so maybe i should've listed him first. i think maybe this suit was actually supposed to be the one he wears when he almost fades out of existence at the dance but the colorist didn't get the memo so that might explain it. maybe i should've drawn that one instead of the 1955 leather jacket but whatever. we ball

also his fist is just Up. he's trying he wants to be included

[graci3sb0w]

Maroon

Gracie Abrams x Female Reader

Summary : could you be the one? Or could it be just a mistake, an accident?

Warnings : sad ending, angst, crying

You never meant to stay this long.

It was supposed to be a quick stop—an innocent visit to Gracie’s apartment, maybe an hour or two of talking, some music playing in the background, and then you’d leave before the night swallowed the city whole. But time slipped through your fingers the way incense smoke curled toward the ceiling, hazy and ungraspable, until you were both sprawled out on the floor, giggling over something neither of you would remember in the morning.

Gracie’s record player hummed softly from the corner of the room, the vinyl spinning endlessly as if it, too, had lost track of time. Your feet rested in her lap, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your ankle as she laughed at something you said. The wine bottle—Audrey’s cheap-ass screw-top rosé—was nearly empty, and the evidence of your carelessness stained the front of her T-shirt in a deep burgundy. You had knocked the glass right out of her hand while telling a story, and for a second, all you could do was stare at the spreading color before the two of you dissolved into breathless laughter.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Gracie asked, voice light with amusement.

You shrugged, barely able to contain your grin. “I think your terrible wine might have something to do with it.”

She nudged your leg in mock offense, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Rude.”

You didn’t leave that night. Nor the next.

Somewhere along the way, your presence in Gracie’s world became less of a guest appearance and more of a permanent fixture. You saw her every day, your lives overlapping in ways you never anticipated. Mornings blurred into afternoons spent wandering through the city, stealing moments in coffee shops, whispering secrets in bookstores. Nights were filled with music and laughter, your voice blending with hers in quiet harmonies only the two of you understood.

One evening, you found yourselves barefoot in the middle of an empty street, the New York skyline stretching above you. The night air was crisp, electric, and the city lights reflected in her eyes as she pulled you closer.

“I chose you,” she whispered, her fingers tangled in yours.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just squeezed her hand, hoping she could feel the way your heart was threatening to escape your chest. The world faded away as you danced, feet skimming the pavement, the stars above bearing witness to something too big for words.

Lazy Sunday mornings were your favorite. Waking up to the scent of coffee, Gracie curled into your side, her hair a mess against your pillow. She would murmur sleepy protests whenever you tried to move, her arms tightening around you. The two of you would stay like that for hours, wrapped in warmth and quiet laughter, music playing softly in the background.

But not all nights were kind.

There were moments when silence crept between you, heavy and suffocating. When words failed, when distance grew—not in miles, but in the space between two hearts that once beat in sync. You would find her standing in the hallway, eyes hollow, fingers gripping a bouquet of carnations she had mistaken for roses. A metaphor too painful to ignore.

“How did we lose sight of us again?” you asked one night, voice barely above a whisper.

Gracie didn’t answer. Instead, she crumbled, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. You wanted to fix it. To fix her. But some things weren’t meant to be repaired, no matter how much love was poured into them.

The fights were never explosive, never loud. They were quiet, simmering, unraveling you both in ways neither of you knew how to stop. Nights spent lying in the same bed but feeling miles apart, your hands twitching with the desire to reach for her but your pride keeping you still.

Then one day, she was gone.

You lost her.

The city felt different after that—colder, emptier. You still woke up with the ghost of her touch lingering on your skin, her memory woven into the fabric of your days. The rust between telephones grew, the space between you becoming insurmountable. She had been your home, your safe place, and now all you had were echoes of a love that once burned so vividly.

You would see reminders of her everywhere. The bookstore where she once ran her fingers over the spines of novels, the café where she used to order the same iced coffee, the street corner where she first grabbed your hand. And every time, your chest would tighten, grief pressing into you like a weight you couldn’t shake.

But even in her absence, she remained. The burgundy stain on your old T-shirt, the bite-mark she left on your collarbone, the laughter you could still hear when the city grew quiet.

A legacy, real and undeniable.

It was maroon.

[cyphyree]

Adolescence of Utena -- Architecture x Character Designs

Dunno if I read it from somewhere, but I realized that Utena's new uniform is styled somewhat like the architecture of Adolescence Ohtori, namely how her clothes are black and white (later with red accents) . Whereas Utena stands out in the world of RGU, she blends right into Adolescence Ohtori, almost as if she is a part of the architecture and vice versa.

The movie is also called The *Adolescence* of Utena (or Girl's Revolution Utena: Adolescence Apocalypse), and in the show, we see adolescent Utena wear black and white at the funeral. I think that her wearing this scheme again in the movie is a sort of return to her adolescence. Not to say that she regressed back into the child she was before the show, but more so to represent the child that Utena still is even after maturing. An adolescent is defined as someone roughly between 10-19; Utena is still a teen who's growing in this age range.

That said, Adolescence Ohtori seems to be an architectural representation of Utena's inner child/self. Like a mindscape of sorts. At the end of the movie, both she and Anthy would leave the mindscape of their adolescence and enter into the unknown "outside world" of adulthood.

Red is associated with the Rose Bride, ie Anthy. Before meeting Anthy for the first time in the show, Utena's clothing was absent of red (her child funeral dress); however Utena's RGU uniform afterwards would have red accents.

Similarly, Utena's Adolescence "boy" clothing doesn't have red, but her "prince garb" after meeting Anthy does.

Speaking of, if we continue seeing Ohtori as Utena's mindscape, the deep red of the Adolescence rose garden is like the part of Utena's mind that Anthy occupies. The tower where the girls draw is also Anthy's domain, as it's draped in red.

Even other black-white architecture of Ohtori is accented with red--Anthy has always been present in Utena's thoughts, even if subconsciously.

Alternatively, red in Ohtori could represent Anthy's mindscape "overlapping" with Utena's. Anthy is still wrestling with leaving Akio after all, and after the events of RGU, it would make sense that she and Utena share "spaces"/experiences/solidarity.

Anthy's Rose Bride dress also more closely resembles Utena/Ohtori's aesthetic (white, red with black accents), and we only see her transform into that when she is with Utena. It seems to signify that Anthy has become more familiar/recognizable to Utena, as her Rose Bride dress visually brings her closer to Utena, more so than her generic mint-green uniform.

When Utena first meets Anthy in Adolescence, a light flurry of rose petals fall from the garden above, crossing from Anthy's domain into Utena's-- they are beginning to cross each other's paths again. During the dance in the garden, a much heavier shower of roses blanket the school architecture below, as if Utena and Anthy's connection has now become much stronger. From then on, Utena would try to create a genuine bond with Anthy (as we see during the drawing session)

Alternatively, it could also signify a progression towards Anthy taking the spotlight when she and Utena decide to leave the school for good:

Near the end of Adolescence, we are back in Anthy's rose garden, we see the chairman's tower (associated with Anthy and Akio), and everything is washed in purples and reds-- Anthy's colors. Utena's black/white structures are now absent. From here on out, Anthy is going to drive (heh) the story forward.

I wanna talk about the architectural styles of Ohtori, but that'll be its own post once I do a bit more research. I wanna expand on some differences such as:

Adolescence- constructivist, Russian Revolution, industrial, "masculine"

Show- neoclassical/rococo? French Revolution, floral/decorative, "feminine" -- perhaps Anthy's mindscape in a way.

Anyway this was supposed to be a bullet point list of miscellaneous stray thoughts, but I guess that's impossible, so I'll just eventually write more individual utena thoughts posts lol

Please feel free to tell me what you think btw!

There's also another post by @nothing-suspicious-in-there about Utena's uniform that's a completely different take, please check it out!

[cephalotyrant]

🔆anon

Hi, if you don’t mind me asking, how do you make Vinny’s sprites? They look like they’re from the game itself and it’s really cool

Ah, hello! First of all, thank you!! That's really flattering,,

Tbh, idk if I'm the right person to go to- I've seen some super cool artists who have outright made rigs of theirs, so they can move n stuff, plus there are people who take commissions and add way more detail. My process is kind of convoluted and not the cleanest per say, etc etc BUT!!!

(I use Ibis Paint and a pen set up btw lol, that might have some effect?)

It's a whole lot of tracing and referencing! I started with merging Azul and Riddle's sprites together. For Vinny, it was easy since he's supposed to be a blend of Azul and Riddle's traits, which means it's easier to just mash them together to get a result. (Like you can see here, it's Riddle's main body with Azul's background arm and smile and his tie/chest plastered on to get rid of the bow.)

A completely original character like Corwin was a little harder to do, since he has his own personality that's supposed to show through his pose- a lot of characters just have a hand on their hip while the other relaxes, though!

And then I block out the main parts! Each color seen here is a different layer in accordance to what they are, I guess- the shirt collar, the jacket, the vest, the shirt itself. I do this by outlining the edges manually and then filling them in. It's not exactly shown here, but I start with the head as well!

For the face itself, I used a thin brush for the mouth and additional details, but I used the lasso fill tool to wing my way with the eyebrows and lid creases- I did have the reference face beneath it, but it came out more naturally to me to make a few quick swipes following the guide and erasing any excess.

For Vinny's face, I copied Azul's eyes but made the "irises" bigger, like Riddle's, just by rounding them out. Ibis paint has a brush shape that looks exactly like the pupils the sprites use, so I only pasted them on and adjusted them.

I'm ngl I mixed up the order at some point. While the first Vinny sprite has a dark base with lighter highlights, the newest one has a light base with dark shading. But I locked the layers, color picked the lightest shade from my reference sprites and filled the layers in. The tie may be tricky since it doesn't really stand out unless you're doing a bow.

From there, I added smaller details like the buttons, the crease lines, the belt, etc, then color them in as well.

twst sprites have a lot of gradients to them, so this is where I pull out the airbrush lol- this time picking the darkest color on my reference and using a clipping layer/mask to add the color. The gold trim and buttons on Vinny's vest are also a clipping layer/mask, for convenience.

For the hair, I... kind of just went for feeling? (And a lot of referencing the original sprites) Using the lasso fill tool, I used a multiply layer in places where the hair is darkest and overlaps, then played with the opacity until I was satisfied, then did the same thing but at an even lower opacity. Did it a third time, but this time with an airbrush. The highlights are pretty simple, but you'll notice more complicated hairstyles like Azul or Epel's have more highlights around the edges of their hair to help distinguish the layers. I used the lasso fill tool for these again.

The face/neck is kind of like this too- shading color for the inner ear/neck, some slightly along the "jaw", and a lighter layer with airbrush where the nose should be.

I do use folders! This is why Vinny's hair remains the same throughout the three I've made— I copied the hair folder to make it easier on myself lol. In theory, you could make folders for each body part and have an actual posable sprite instead.

I do hope this wasn't too rambly anon!! 🛐 I may make more sprites in the future so maybe writing down my process will help me in the end too lol.

[luckiestplant]

For my Literature class i was allowed to make a short comic adaptation of a literary work that influenced me, so I picked Demian. If you want to read my explanation of why I picked it and made certain decisions, you can read it under the cut ! :)

[It is 862 words. I only needed to write 2 paragraphs. I... really like this book LOL]

I chose to adapt Herman Hesse's "Demian" because it's a very influential book for me. I saw myself in the protagonist, Emil Sinclair in how he worries about what other people think of him as a kid, leading him to tell different lies to different people. His struggle to rationalize what is "good" or "evil" is rooted in his religious upbringing, and his first step towards discovering himself and his own values is from someone (Demian) telling him a different perspective, and inviting him to think for himself. I felt seen in how Sinclair wants to be guided by others, but feels unable to teach others, and seeing him eventually reach independence makes me want to reach that point too. He starts off the book seperating things into binaries like Man and Woman, Good and Evil, but over the course of the book those concepts start to overlap and gray for him. He admires Demian and Beatrice for being a boy with feminine features, and a girl with masculine features, and when he eventually meets Frau Eva, he loves how handsome she is. The scene I adapted, where he sees himself in his own painting, not visually but emotionally, really connects with me as an artist who puts themself into their work, and gets a slightly better understanding of myself when I first step back and look at it. I don't want my pictures to look like a mirror of me, but still reflect me somehow. And with my experience with gender, I see myself in Sinclair's idealization of androgyny, even if those sorts of words would not be used at the time. This connection I felt with the book helped move me to read more classic literature and see myself in them.

I decided for the first page to not have a lot of narration because I felt that it could be told through pictures. The scene starts with the sun "slanting red through my window" during sunset, and "Inside my room it was dusk", which gave me my color palette for the comic; reds and warm purples. Sinclair is not very detailed in the first page because I thought it would feel more atmospheric, and to emphasize the self discovery on the second page. The three panels on the bottom were repeated with subtle changes in expression to give the feeling of time passing as, in the narration, "For a long time I sat oppposite it even after the picture had faded out." He blends in with the light of the painting because of how much he's taking it in; the last panel's sudden contrast is the moment of realization leading up to the next page. The painting's sudden detail is partly because I got too into drawing it, but is so important that it should be in substantially more detail; it is a catalyst for Sinclair, and it is symbolic of his connections (and future connections) in the book. Besides Sinclair's emotions, it is the most detailed description in that scene, and the way he describes it radiates joy and excitement.

The first panel of page two has vague drawings of Beatrice and Demian, with Sinclair sparking with recognition. I wanted him to have a similiar feeling as the painting, glowing with color, because this is an important moment for him. Beatrice is not very detailed because he has never talked to her; she is someone who he saw on the street and admired, and at that point, he had not met Demian in years. "But myself" is split from the sentance to give more emphasis on his revelation. The second panel's narration is split but tied together to make it feel more floaty and slow, to emphasize each point, and to help direct readers to the next panel with Demian (the lines in the last panel are also supposed to help cheat with that). The text around Demian purposefully switches alignment and leaves extra space to 1) help connect the flow of narration from the second to the fourth panel, and 2) because it conveys Sinclair's semi-divine view of Demian (masculine and feminine, youthful and mature). The woman in the fourth panel (who he later realizes to be Frau Eva) has especially split narration because he doesn't know her yet, and she is a dreamy "ideal" to him; she isn't concrete in his world yet. For panel 2 and 5, there is an egg cracking and a bird flying off as a reference to a motif later on in the book; "The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born first must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas." This quote has found its way into media inspired by Demian, and influences how people see the characters, and it's an especially touching quote because of how strong and confident it feels. If the bird (Sinclair) is not able to break his egg (the sheltered world he grew up in), he will never "hatch" and fly to Abraxas (self-discovery). It felt especially important to me to include this motif even if it hasn't technically appeared in the book yet, because it is a perfect metaphor for growing up and for Emil Sinclair.

[cellspex]

Halloween Animation Day 9: Infinity Train

The nigh perfect series that was 'lost' in HBOmax purge. It's only available now in individual episode purchases.

Infinity Train is a fantastic blend of horror, sci-fi and character built right into its premise. Each season focuses on a different character getting trapped on the train where each car is something different from an alien world, to a simple challenge to an abstract concept. Each character is given a number that supposed represents their 'flaws' and they can't leave until the flaws are 'fixed'. Axed before its time to properly explore how or why the train determines 'flaws' or whether its methods on average even work, because while it works for some, it also makes other worse. Also it kills people.

While each season features a new character, each season is still connected with overlapping side characters and one particular through line 'protagonist' that again we never get a chance to fully dive into.

Season 2 is my favorite, season 3 is the darkest, season 1 is a good intro, and season 4 just feels like 'another season' but its still really good.

If I could revive one series it would be this one.

[la-principessa-nuova]

It’s weird being 5’10” and transfem

because, like, my older relatives are all like, “Wow, you’re so tall!” but then relative to people my own age, back when i was judged as a guy, i was average height (according to whatever i read at the time 5’9” was average, and 5’10” if you only looked at younger adults).

but i’d hear shallow girls talking about how anyone under 6 feet tall is short, so I always thought of myself as “technically average, but unfairly called short, and that’s fine”.

but i always had this weird feeling when i was in a room with only women (especially a large one like a storeh, and i was so much taller, that i think Taylor Swift described well with “and I’m a monster on the hill”

but like a (figurative) voice in my head was like, “You should be fine with this because you’re supposed to be a big, tall man”, but, like, i wasn’t okay with it at all.

and then if a guy walks in, i feel like i want to throw up or cry or something bc it’s like this immediate recognition over the heads of all the women in the store that there is some similarity between us and that just felt wrong in a way i did not understand.

but if a tall woman walked in, i did feel that kinship that i “should have” felt with the men who walked in. And especially if there were a few tall women, or a mixture of people of various heights with enough that i no longer stood out as tall, i felt so much better, like i could breathe in the anonymity of it.

i felt this a lot recently (except understanding what it was now) when at Habitat for Humanity ReStore looking at the used furniture, and it was entirely women in the store, mostly older women (and maybe some short kings blending in), and i was by far the tallest person in the whole store as far as i could see, and i just felt so other. but then a couple women about my height walked in and i felt so relieved to not be the monster in the room.

but yeah, now my older relatives are right, and i’m a bit taller than average now, but also i don’t feel, like, freakishly tall. like, i know plenty of cis women my height and taller, so like, compared to other traits that technically overlap with ranges for cis women but are so extreme, this one just isn’t a big deal. it only makes me feel weird in the same way it makes many cis women feel weird when you happen to not have any other tall friends around.

[weeeyotch]

Between Shadows & Steel: CH. 2

⊱ Word Count: 2.6k ⊰

⊱ Warnings: Mentions of abuse & violence ⊰

⊱ BS&S Masterlist ⊰

Taglist: @reckless007 @reemoony @cjand10

Bucky stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his dress shirt and tugging on the collar as though it were choking him.

The shirt fit fine. Even the navy-blue jacket had a great fit, accentuating his broad shoulders and muscular arms in a way that turned heads–subtle enough to be admired but not questioned. Sam had convinced him to buy it in the obscenely bougie boutique shop in DC’s city center, claiming that, “It’s time to stop looking like a washed-up assassin past the prime of his life, and more like someone who actually pays their taxes.”

The more he tried to adjust the shirt, the more his tie felt like a noose. A small part of him silently prayed that it would become tight enough to choke him and leave him unconscious on the marbled floor. 

Bucky rubbed a hand down his face and exhaled sharply. 

This all felt wrong. 

It felt wrong to trade in his uniform for a suit and tie; to swap battlefield tactics for policy debates, and to fight his enemies with words instead of fists. 

He had spent decades detached from his own consciousness–a weapon that was forged by war and sharpened by violence. As the Winter Soldier, he never had to command the attention of a room of politicians to explain the political change he would enact; he would simply be the change, with nothing but a commanding silver fist. 

Countless countries and regimes were sent spiralling into political turmoil and violence under the blood-soaked barrel of his handgun. Entire governments collapsed with a pull of his trigger, their leaders never seeing the ghost in the shadows before he towered over their dying figures. He had toppled democracies, instilled tyrants, and silenced revolutionaries–all without blinking an eye. 

But now, as he stood in front of the brightly lit mirror, dressed in a freshly dry-cleaned jacket, he was supposed to be someone else entirely. A man with a voice instead of a silencer. A congressman instead of a killer.

Just beyond the gold-plated door, dozens of voices chattered in anticipation. Their conversations were muffled, but he could feel the sense of excitement, dread, and anger that hung heavy in the air. Allies and enemies alike waited on the other side, waiting eagerly for his appearance. 

Bucky sighed and adjusted the polished pin on his lapel. Beads of sweat rolled down the tracks of his calloused palm, and he wiped it against his pant leg before straightening his stance. 

This isn’t a battlefield, he reminded himself. This isn’t a warzone. 

So why, as he reached for the door handle, did he feel like it was?

That same rush of adrenaline and fear that he felt as a young soldier in 1943 coursed through his veins, causing his muscles to coil and his heart to start pounding. He forced a final, steadying breath through his nostrils before finally pushing the door open. 

No bullets will fly. No blood will spill. No orders will be barked. Nobody will di–

A barrage of deafening camera shutters blinded him in a wave of white light. It was his body’s first instinct to tense up and slightly jump as Bucky felt momentarily disoriented. The cameras kept flashing in succession, with frenzied reporters calling out for him. It became difficult to concentrate, as their fanatic overlapping voices soon blended into an unintelligible roar. 

Bucky forced his shoulders to relax as he marched towards the courtroom. Only a singular red-velvet rope separated him from the crowd of hysterical reporters that swarmed him like angry bees. They all ran after him, stumbling upon each other, reaching their microphones across in hopes that he would acknowledge at least one of them. 

“Congressman Barnes!” 

“Do you have anything to say about the bill hearing?” 

“Congressman, do you think Congress will pass your bill?” 

“Congressman Barnes, do you have any comments?” 

He kept his head straight and his gaze focused only forward. Anything that he had to say to the press had already been said and done before. All that was left to do now was make one of his final arguments to a chamber full of his judgemental and overly-scrutinizing peers.

Bucky pushed ahead, his pace measured and his expression unreadable. 

One foot in front of the other, he thought to himself. Nice and steady. 

The mask stayed on. 

He had learned long ago how to mold his features into something impassive, to appear unaffected as the chaos thundered around him. As the cacophony of voices clawed at him and the flashing of the lights burned his retina, something flowered deep in his gut–something heavy, something unshakeable. 

Finally having approached the grand marble doors that lead into the congressional chamber, a familiar voice sliced through the madness like a knife. 

“Congressman Barnes!” 

Bucky hesitated at the doors as his gloved hand reached for the handle. He had mastered the art of selective hearing, tuning out everything around him that was not critical to the mission. But the voice came clear again, seemingly closer this time, shrill and sharp as the first time he had heard it. 

His jaw clenched.

“Congressman Barnes, how can you justify advocating for the Broken Arrow Initiative when you were once an assassin yourself? Don’t you think that people, including your constituents, would see this as you protecting HYDRA agents?” 

His fingers curled into a fist at his side but he forced them to relax. He turned with a deep exhale through his nostrils, coming face-to-face with the source of the question. 

A woman stood among the reporters, her turquoise suit pristine and a near eye-sore in the ocean of grey and black. She held her microphone steady with the right corner of her crimson-painted lips tugged upwards in a smirk. Knowing damn well that she hit a nerve, she stood waiting for his answer. 

Sam’s words echoed in his head. This job won’t be easy, you know. You’ll be met with a lot of resistance. You’ll make a lot of enemies. But God, if it isn’t rewarding, then I don’t know what is. 

Public enemies. He wasn’t kidding. 

In front of him stood Charlotte Monroe, chief editor for the Washington Post–Bucky’s number one opposition. She had been a hardline critic of him ever since he first announced his campaign for congress, composing painfully eloquently written hit articles that questioned his every move. Bucky had seen her on television, spewing the same bullshit rhetoric about national security, about how congress needed to conduct an investigation into him for possible corruption; about how men like him can never be truly trusted. 

Charlotte had a history of denouncing anything and everything to do with HYDRA. Her hatred for the organization was nearly admirable to Bucky. 

Nearly. 

A dozen other microphones shot forward, waiting eagerly for his response. He could already see the news headlines forming in his head: Congressman Barnes Loses Cool Before Congressional Hearing. Winter Soldier Lashes Out at Press–Shocking or to be Expected?  Ex-Assassin Struggles to Defend Self-Serving Controversial Bill. 

Bucky took another breath. “I think,” he said with a steady voice, “that no one understands the necessity of this bill better than I do.” 

Charlotte lifted a brow, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. Rather, he shot her a pointed look before turning back to the ominous chamber doors, pushing them open without another word. 

Inside, the atmosphere was even more suffocating. 

With its towering majestic marble pillars and sculptures crafted from the finest gold, the congressional chambers felt more like a courtroom on judgement day than a legislative floor. Rows of wooden desks curved in semicircles, all facing the front of the room where the Chairperson would sit. Fluorescent lamps decorated the upper walls, bathing those that sat underneath it in its blinding and off-putting light. 

The room was filled to the brim with hundreds of congressmen. It was an endless sea of grey and black, and Bucky feared that it would swallow him whole. The sounds of keyboards clacking, pens anxiously tapping against wooden desks, and monotone voices carried through the air. 

Everything in the room felt tense. 

This day would be one of the most important days to come in recent history; the proposition of a bill that would hold up a bloody and cracked mirror not only to the American government, but to the governments around the world. 

It was a day that would finally challenge their cruelties. 

As soon as Bucky walked in, silence fell like a guillotine. 

Conversations died out, pens were forgotten on the tables, and hands were frozen over keyboards. Everyone turned to stare at Bucky–looks of anger, fear, and vacant stares greeted him. There were some allies, however, scattered in the sea of foes. They could only offer him curt nods of acknowledgement. But as he glanced up to the seats on the second-floor gallery that overlooked all of Congress–saved for reporters, staff, and guests–he was met by a confident nod and a half-smile. 

Sam. Watching. Waiting. 

That nod, filled with conviction, reminded Bucky as to why he was there. Why he hadn’t backed out despite every voice in his head screaming at him to run. Sam believed in this bill. He believed in Bucky. 

Bucky moved quickly to take his seat. His vibranium arm rested carefully on the polished desk, fingers clenched and motionless. The placard in front of him read: Rep. James B. Barnes (D-NY). 

The world around him seemed to drown out as the only thing he could hear was the sound of blood rushing through his ears. Even the movements of the other members of Congress seemed to all blend together into a large, neutral-colored blur. With the anxiety coursing through his veins, he felt both painfully hyper aware and nonexistent; he felt like a ghost in his own flesh. 

The only thing that brought him back to reality was the sound of a gavel hitting wood. He finally came to, focusing his vision on the chairwoman of the Judiciary Committee. 

She sat high above the rest of Congress. Her gray hair was tied into a sleek knot with not a single loose strand of hair. It complimented her gaze–sharp, judicial, and impassive. 

“This committee will come to order,” she announced, her voice clear and firm. “Today, we will hear testimony regarding House Resolution 8471–the Broken Arrow Initiative.” 

Her eyes landed squarely on Bucky. Although he didn’t flinch, he could feel the heavy weight of them. 

“We welcome the bill’s sponsor, Representative James Barnes of New York. Congressman, you may proceed. You have five minutes.” 

Bucky stood slowly. 

He held his opening statement with his vibranium arm, fearing that his regular arm would tremble too much. Clearing his throat, he lifted his gaze and finally spoke–not as the Winter Soldier, not as a reformed assassin, but as James Buchanan Barnes: a broken man who still hoped that something good could come out of his overextended life. 

“Madam Chairwoman, members of the committee…” he began, voice low but steady. “I was thirteen years old when I first heard the words ‘collateral damage’. I was too young to understand what they meant. I only learned their true meaning until I became it. Until I inflicted it.” 

“I’ve been called a weapon. A ghost. A murderer.” 

He glanced up at Sam as those words left his mouth. Bucky took a shaky breath before lowering his gaze back down to his paper and continuing on. 

“For a long time, I believed that’s all I was. I believed that I didn’t deserve a second chance.” He paused as his eyes fell to his left hand, where the gold patterning shimmered beneath the harsh chamber lights. “But then, someone gave me one.” 

Bucky glanced towards the balcony again. However, he wasn’t looking at Sam anymore–he was looking at the others who filled the seats. Citizens, journalists, law students, veterans. People who may have seen and felt the damage he caused, either personally or through their television screen. People who had survived. 

“But this someone wasn’t just anyone. It was a country. A government. A team of people who looked me in the eye and said, ‘We won’t forget what you did–but we see who you are trying to become.���” 

“There are hundreds of others like me. Hundreds who had undergone illegal human experimentation, who were taken advantage of. Hundreds whose minds were ripped to shreds and forced to partake in unspeakable acts by the same people who inflicted horrors upon them. There are many people who fell victim to HYDRA and similar organizations. There are countless others, however, who fell victim to governments–some foreign, and some their own. 

There was another flicker of movement on the floor. Whispering, people shaking their heads, people shifting uncomfortably in their seats. All were listening. 

“This bill, the Broken Arrow Initiative, is not about erasing the past. It’s not about hiding what happened in the HYDRA labs or behind the closed doors of governments in the name of national security. It is about telling the truth. It is about protecting the next generation from suffering in the ways that we did. It is about dismantling the systems that turn people into property.” 

“We owe it to the victims. We owe it to the survivors. And we owe it to ourselves.” 

His voice grew steadier now. 

“I stand here before you today not as a soldier. Not as an assassin. Not even as a congressman. I stand here as a man who was irrevocably broken by war and is still choosing peace.” 

A hush fell over the chamber. He let the silence stretch on just long enough to make it feel almost unbearable. 

“With this bill, I propose the establishment of federally funded therapy, counselling, and trauma recovery programs for individuals who were systematically abused and experimented on. I want to grant refuge and a clean slate to those with verifiable evidence of their pasts.” 

His eyes dropped to the next paragraph. His hand tensed. He knew what was coming; the match that would quickly light the chamber on fire. With a deep exhalation, he went on saying: 

“Finally, I call for a full audit of the American government and its affiliated branches. I call for those found guilty of systemic abuse and human experimentation to be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.” 

The uproar was immediate. 

Chairs scraped back. Voices clashed. Some congressmen yelled at Bucky while others began to argue with each other. Laptops snapped shut. Fingers were pointed across the aisle. 

The chairwoman slammed the gavel. She called for order but it barely registered. 

“For far too long,” Bucky raised his voice over the storm, “the United States government has sanctioned human experimentation and abuse, then buried the evidence six-feet underground. Many of those victims are still alive today, living in fear and trying to navigate a world that turned them into weapons and discarded them.” 

He took a final breath, firm and unwavering. 

“This bill is about justice. It is about recognizing what was done in the shadows. It is about giving those people–not assets, not numbers–the right to reparations. Whether that be legal, monetary, or simply having their stories shared with the world. I believe that this bill will open a new chapter in American governance–one that is filled with reconciliation, accountability, and forgiveness.” 

Nodding once, he finished with, “Madam Chairwoman, I yield my time.” 

Bucky’s legs collapsed under him as he fell back into his seat, dizzy and out of breath. His heart pounded as pride and fear coursed through his veins.

Maybe now, he thought to himself. Maybe now, things might finally start to change. 

The chaos still raged on around him. Fists slammed against desks. Everyone continued shouting. Some even stormed out.

But Bucky didn’t move. He remained stoic. 

The Chairwoman kept hitting her gavel and demanding order. The debate would be coming soon. Bucky cringed internally at the thought of having to defend himself against the burning scrutiny from hundreds of his peers. 

The hardest part was only just beginning. 

[texas-gothic]

I think I've uncovered the primary problem that is causing this Bonney controversy.

One Piece, as a story, is experiencing (has been experiencing really, since before the timeskip if we're all being honest) a crisis of genres. On one hand, One Piece is a story about adventure on the high seas, about the rigors of oppression, and about the joys of finding a family to call your own and the true freedom that comes with that. On the other hand, One Piece is also a Shounen Battle Manga about a plucky, young fighter battling his way through waves of strong and threatening opponents as he carves his way to the top, to become King of The Pirates.

Now, over the last nearly 30 years of outrageous success, One Piece has been able to balance these two sides of itself with great finess. An excellent example of this I think is Ennies Lobby, which manages to give both audiences exactly what they want. The audience which is invested primarily in the narrative and characters gets to have "I WANT TO LIVE!" and the audience which is invested in the combat and the struggle get to have a knock-down drag-out fight with Lucci. It's a beautiful blend, and it's undeniably a huge part of what has allowed One Piece to become the biggest weekly publication in the world.

(A note before we continue: obviously, there are more than just two audiences for One Piece. A lot of these interests overlap, and other people are coming in for different factors entirely. If there were only two appeals here, Oda would not have an audience of literally billions.)

However, as we rapidly close in on One Piece's long-awaited finale, it's becoming increasingly clear that one of these factors is greatly going to outweigh the other. Oda does not care about the traditional conventions of shounen jump. He just doesn't. And I suppose it's only natural that the very vocal minority that still expects him to are increasingly upset by how far Oda is deviating from them. First, they got disappointed by Gear 5 being an Animaniac instead of the stoic, angry can of whoop ass genre expectations led them to anticipate. Then they get even that rug pulled out from under them when it turns out that Nika isn't even actually about being strong, it's about being free. Now, people who have actually been paying attention tl the characters, themes, and narrative could have called any of that a dozen miles away, because those aspects of the story all have been building toward these conclusions. But it's sensible that those who haven't would be caught off guard and even disappointed by the direction that One Piecr has taken.

I guess my point here is that One Piece has come to the point where it's deciding what it really is. And while I'm sure there will still be lots of amazing action in store as we work toward facing One Piece's longest running antagonists, it's becoming increasingly clear that these fights and transformations and tests of strength are the means rather than the ends. And if that's not something you're okay with, I would suggest that you probably start getting okay with it.

[enddaysengine]

To the Stars and Beyond!

A bunch of interesting things happened at PaizoCon this weekend, the most fascinating for me was something completely internal. Pathfinder wasn't the game I was focused on. Given all of the reveals about War of the Immortals, the announcement of Spore War, and about 9000 other things related to the planes, that may be surprising.

But no, this time the main event was Starfinder.

While I never got to play as much of 1e as I would've liked, I've been eagerly awaing Starfinder 2e, both as the playtest and in its final form. Starfinder's blend of science-fantasy from properties like Star Wars, Doom, and 40k took a while to grow on me, but it has solidly become one of my favorites. Plus, even in 1e, Starfinder had a lot of planar content baked into the setting. Made an argument on Twitter and BlueSky when I'm feeling spicy that between Pathfinder and Starfinder, it is the latter that is better set up to be a successor to Planescape. And oh boy that has not changed at all from the titbits they got dropped at PaizoCon. Both the playtest and 2e seem poised to lean even harder into the weird and strange parts of the setting where science fiction and fantasy overlap. I am 100% here for it.

The point that I am getting to that Paths Beyond wasn't the only project I had sitting on the back burner. There is also Star Beyond, a science fantasy take on the same weird and wonderful genre we know from Planescape. I can never predict which games my brain is going to latch on each week, but I expect I'll be writing Starfinder content for the blog in the very near future. Not just because it's fun and because Starfinder literally calls its player organizations factions, but because I have an ambition. My aim is to have Stars Beyond ready for Starfinder Infinite by the 2e launches. I actually have an outline and I'm aiming for a companion in the 40,000 to 50,000 word range. That's a big project, if I finish it, it will be easily the most words I've written for a single book, but I figure I have time on my side. It may actually be doable, but nonetheless wish me luck.

See you in the stars.

Post-Script: We also got confirmation that while 2e was in the works when OGL-gate hit, there were supposed to be more 1e books: the Faction Guide (which was being written) and the Extraplanar Archive (which was in outlining). It's a bummer we don't have either yet given what I plan to do, but it does make me feel like Stars Beyond is on the right track.

Post-post-script: I also have a place where I reblog inspirational media for this project over at @stars-beyond-sf! Check it out.

[randomsporefacts]

Jane Ng's portfolio covers ambient occlusion on one of the models pages, specifically models 1

so, as you can see with most spore textures of various objects, they have baked-in lighting like this

curiously enough not all of them actually do. sg_treasure_grail has no ambient occlusion, aside from the spots where the gems go i suppose

the portfolio also has a treasure chest texture with no ambient occlusion, which as far as im aware is the only non-shaded version of an object texture that we have (that is actually shaded in final)

though bone_pile_huge and bone_pile_huge_pillaged_01 use the same texture, just with separately baked ambient occlusion, so you can sort of reconstruct it

and i do mean sort of. i overlaid them with a lighten blend mode and this is the best i got. much of the shading is still here

anyway. as you can see with some of these models, having to account for ambient occlusion also makes for some really odd looking textures with uvs. every element that is repeated on the texture cant just share the same uv space. therefore you get like 3 separate repeats of the same base skull texture, three repeats of the same egg, a million repeats of the other parts etc, instead of them just sharing the same space in the texture

i think the same kind of thing happens when the game is baking creature textures, separate copies for every part in the texture (even if its just a paired symmetric part)

also this is why theres weird dark spots where parts overlap with the body, it also uses something similar to ambient occlusion to add shading between the parts that overlap (with each other or the body mesh itself etc)

[silvershayde]

An Acaesian Encyclopaedia

Darena’s Seafarers: Sirelians (Aqua Sirens)

Second Instalment for Darena’s Seafarers! This is about Sirelians! The other Seafarers include: Merfolk, Melusines, and Nymphs/Nereids. Of the four treasures Darena handed out, the Sirelians were given the Bident.

Before I get into the nitty gritty, I wanna go over why I named them Sirelians rather than just Sirens. Everyone knows Sirens right? Well, first off the original version of Sirens were bird like, and many of you may already know that. So because both Sirelians and Sirens have the hypnotic voice that can sing a lullaby of doom, the names have had an overlap and they’ve been conflated with one another, which is why I put in brackets Aqua Siren next to their original name. Another name would be Darena’s Sirens since Zetune has her own Sirens; they treat each other like cousins even though they are in no way related. So yeah they are not Sirens since they cannot fly, are not bird-like and do not fall under Zetune’s domain of Caeli. (For the uninformed Caeli is wind/air.)

Anyway! They’re mostly found in the area within and surrounding Sirelia, which is found in the ocean east of Theia/Turnunda (sorry again my map needs updating, once it is I’ll link it in these posts) which would put it south west of Aquaria. Like Merfolk you can find Sirelians in fresh waters.

First off, yes they have two tails, and the tails blend with the upper body. And yes I know the two tail thing is a Melusine thing, but I have my reasons (I came up with Sirelians first and they were initially supposed to be like Selkies because, again, they aren’t technically Sirens. Calling Sirelians Sirens is a land dweller’s misguided label. Like how red pandas aren’t pandas.)

I will note before I move on that there is practically no gender dimorphism that you can see on a Sirelian no matter what upper body they’re rocking.

Second! Unlike Merfolk their tails are more colloquially fish-like. (I use colloquially because classification and fish are not friends so to hell with it.) Their tails can also either be smooth or have scales and if it exists as a fish there’s most likely a Sirelian variant of it. Their hands are webbed and have it on their ears too. They have gills and their nostrils are just to smell not to breathe.

The sclera of a Sirelian is black, and when in hunting mode or when the prey drive is triggered the pupil dilates a LOT. (The iris being bigger on the right is a drawing error but I’ve sat here for nearly three hours doing it)

Through their hypnotic voice and applying their manipulation of Aqua to shapeshifting, Sirelians can change the way they look. Whether it is changing the sclera of their eyes to white, changing the appearance of their teeth to make it less… uh… terrifying to hiding the webs in their hands, and the extra limbs on their arms. Similar to octopuses and cuttlefish they can change the colour of their bodies, but unlike them they can do it consciously rather than just being an environmental reaction.

The one thing they can’t change the image of is how their upper bodies meet their tails, and how many tails they have. This is why those are the only two reliable identifiers to distinguish Sirelians from Merfolk.

[mossy-rainfrog]

[ID in Alt Text]

strolling in fashionably late to the two year anniversary of the greatest musical adaptation of Moby Dick of all time, Caleb Hayashida's 'Moby Dick or the Whale'. I've been thoroughly enamored with this album for over a year now and it only felt right to do a tribute for its birthday :)

now, go do yourself a favor and listen to Sea Fever 💙💙

some notes about the details I added under the cut!

Some notes on this as a tribute!

Firstly, as always, my Ishmael design is stolen from the beloved @pocketsizedquasar :3

Secondly, the primary songs captured by this piece are meant to be 'Interpretation', 'Whiteness of the Whale', and 'Whaleman's Hymn'. Interpretation is primary, since that song refers directly to the painting at Spouter Inn, and Ishmael's attempts to interpret it. (Aside: it's a brilliant song that foreshadows chords repeated during the chase, it confuses and delights the listener much like book Ishmael's ramblings do, and it odes to the album itself being an interpretation of a novel. also it's a bop. I fucking love it.) The whale in the picture is, you guessed it, the whale song. That one I felt was important to center as Hayashida himself intentionally put that song at the center of the album as a focal point for the rest to follow around (and for the narrative to break inside - give it a listen, the end is incredible). It's literally the centerpiece. And finally, the lyrics are from Whaleman's Hymn, the gorgeous ode at the end of the album.

Ishmael is also posed as both moving and stagnant in the center as a reference to the cyclical nature of Hayashida's album. It ends with the same lyrics it begins with ("I must be out to sea"), and so here, Ishmael meant to be caught in the space between both of those songs. Moving and yet unable to move from where he is.

The watery effect was particularly inspired by Drifting, as that song fills me with an immense sense of peace and gives me the feeling of laying down at an aquarium watching the light of the water dance around. It also helps make the mood of the piece a bit more dynamic, as the looming painting, dissonant colors, and heavy shading all feel a bit foreboding, and the water effect both enhances that by giving an unnatural feel, and subdues that by communicating a semblance of peace and muting the colors.

The oil effect and jagged colors of the piece itself are references to the official album cover art! The flaming harpoon's colors are mimicked in the red light at the top of the painting, and the bright teal/white is mimicked in the whale at the bottom. They're also positioned over each other, just like on the album cover.

The painting itself is also supposed to be reminiscent of The Chase, in all its chaotic glory. Hayashida has an INSANE stroke of genius with that song where, at a certain point, two different time signatures overlap to show the whale opposing the crew/Ahab. The blend is so smooth that it's easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, and yet so brilliant that it makes you anxious for the buildup and final clash. The saturated opposing colors are supposed to be something of a nod to that, as well as the nature of the painting being a sinking ship and a white whale lol

So, yeah those are my notes! :D thank you for reading and definitely give this masterpiece a listen!! 💙💙