#i will perhaps animate this someday

[rosabienfuerte]

mobtosis

[emberglowfox]

i don’t post a lot of classwork here but i like how these came out. some simple player sprite animations for learning basic 2d game implementation. they’re basic, and a little jank bc i very rarely animate, but fine for like a simple project with a week turnaround haha

[brush-tailed]

Many of you seem to enjoy my funny animal versions of comet characters (thank you, btw :-) ) so…..here’s anteater Pierre👍did him a while back

[notmoreflippingelves]

[death-rebirth-senshi]

I think Malenia's grab throw and impale you attack is cool but waterfowl still feels goofy to me idk

[nalgenes]

guys i was at a bridge in town earlier today looking down at the creek which was flowing so beautifully bc we’ve gotten plenty of rain lately. and i was standing there looking at it thinking “wow…. this is so wonderful. i love nature” and then surely the angels heard me and decided to send another blessing because right at that instant a mallard duck floated out from underneath the bridge

[villiedoom]

3D animation of my character, the Vaeraf named Laschnir (Lash).

Made in Blender.

This is my second animation of a trotting Vaeraf (I made the previous one last year), and this time I used a significantly updated (almost completely re-made) version of the Vaeraf model. I also updated some details including the fur and rig, but so far only for Lash. I plan to redo the entirely model again… someday. But for now I'm just experimenting and having fun!

I tried to make the new animation more dynamic by giving more movement to the body and legs. I was genuinely surprised at how slow and "lazy" the previous animation was! I think I was just afraid to give the animation more movement, because I have little experience in animation. Now, after a few tries on different creatures, I'm animating the trot more dynamically and boldly. I also added some snow particles and more dynamic camera movement ~

I also really wanted to animate the fur on his tail, but the hair dynamics in blender don't work well with that much hair. Perhaps in the future I will look for ways to do this. Overall, I'm very happy with this animation! :)

[Vaerafes are my personal fantasy creature species]

[lucidloving]

I learned how to be quiet about pain when I was very young. I learned how to fold in on myself like laundry, to take up less space in the cupboard. I learned how to keep the peace around me by sweeping the dirt under my own rug.

I have been taught that expressing my less favourable emotions is just complaining—something weak people do when they're too incompetent to solve their own problems.

Incompetent. Incompetent. This word is very important to me. Incompetent is the word I am always running from. To run from incompetency means to run from feeling dejected, feeling lost, feeling hurt. To run from incompetency is to run towards goodness. To run towards a me who knows all the answers and shoulders all the burdens and shrugs off all the pain.

Some days I am not very good at this race I am running. Days when the past lurches forward to bite my ankles, or days when the future looks back to scorn my present.

On these days I am weak. The poise slips. It's all too easy to cry a little and vent my fears. I forget that I am supposed to be keeping all of this shut away where no one else can see. I forget that I am not supposed to be dragged down by these feelings in the first place.

Today I feigned nonchalance and I feigned it well. No one noticed that I was hurt by the thing that happened, and sitting alone in all my hurt, I was bitterly gratified. I had fulfilled the proper narrative of an animal who is injured and returns to its cave to lick its wounds only in private.

But there is a desperation for the hidden pain to be noticed. This is the Achilles' Heel of the whole stealth operation; it threatens the little play I have constructed in which I suffer alone and inconvenience no one and am all the stronger for it.

Today I stood upright to talk to my mother and doubled over in pain the moment she left the room. It is satisfying, knowing I did the valiant and honourable thing of keeping the damn pain to myself. It is infuriating, the way my eyes flickered to the door in the dark and private hope that she would come back in and witness me while I was down.

I want to be strong and hide all the hard things away. I want someone to see my efforts to hide all the hard things away and realise I'm strong. I want to bring to life this character I have created who suffers without complaint and is loved when the truth is revealed. Who suffers well.

This is the person who stores up agony to a breaking point, to justify the ultimate snapping of composure. This is the person who wants to be depended on relentlessly and one-sidedly, so that someone someday might notice the unfairness of it all. This is the person who virtuously and righteously take all the hits without a sound, so that when they finally, inevitably break, their pain will come to light all at once and inspire awe and guilt in equal measure.

Who am I, really? Is it terrible to want to play this character? Perhaps some old wound craves acknowledgement and understanding and doesn't know how else to ask for it except by hiding until it festers.

Strength. Competency. Resilience. Dependability. Independence. They have all become synonyms in my black and white dictionary. They have all become straws for the drowning man.

I self-impose silence. I take pleasure in denial and secrecy. I take pride in successfully keeping a problem to myself.

Pride. That's another important word. I think I have too much of it, although it pains me when others point it out. Pride implies I think highly of myself, which is something a good person should never do. Pride is so audaciously self-absorbed, so high-and-mighty, so filthy with ego. There's probably a lot of it in this damn thing I've written.

Pride is the other thing that keeps my mouth shut. The thing that says I should be austere, untouchable, immovable. Pride is the thing that says look here, you don't have a lot going for you so you better keep this mask on right if you want to be good. If you want to be admired.

These terrible things keep me safe. I can't let go of that stupidly noble character or that cowardly pride. I need them to shield me from the reality that I am emotional, not all that put together, and honestly hopeless most of the time.

I need to have something worth liking about myself. I need to have a grit that makes me undeniably good. I need to have a strength that goes unsung, that lies in wait of discovery.

What an exhausting way to live. But it's the only way I know.

[violettduchess]

A/N: This year, as I deal with a far more limited amount of free time, I want to focus on writing things that really spark something for me. These headcanons, which I started almost 6 months ago, recently came roaring back into my imagination and I decided to go for it.

This is imagining how these suitors would react to their small child entering their bedroom in the middle of the night.

Leon, Sariel, Jin, Keith and Gilbert

WC: 2.2 k

The child's white bedroom door, painted with a silvery moon and twinkling stars, opens slowly, a whisper in the still of the night. A small head pokes out, knuckling sleepily at eyes still heavy with the remnants of dreaming. A look left, then right.

The hall is empty.

Tiny bare feet tiptoe across plush carpeting.

One hand clutches a stuffed animal, the other reaches for the curved handle of your bedroom door and which, on a quiet exhale, opens.

Leon

He is awake the moment the door opens. A light sleeper, he never fails to hear when his daughter enters your bedroom, no matter how quietly she tries to. Even now, he pushes himself up, running a hand through his cacophony of dark hair, watching his offspring step as quietly as possible as she makes her way towards the bed. She’s so concentrated on not making noise that she doesn’t notice he’s already up and watching her until she arrives at the foot of the bed.

“Papa!” Her gasp is half surprise, half disappointment when she realizes he has, as always, heard her. Leon laughs softly, the sound still rough with sleep as he motions for her to come over to his side of the bed. 

“I was trying to be extra, extra quiet.” He offers her his hand and she takes it, climbing into the bed and then into the circle of his arms where he cuddles her close. “You were, peanut. You were very quiet but your father has very, very good ears. Especially at night.” 

Perhaps someday she’ll learn why. How good hearing and light sleeping could mean the difference between life and death in the slave pens. But not tonight. Tonight she snuggles into his embrace, clutching her brown bear with his black and red cape to her chest. 

“Shall I bring you back to your bed?” He brushes several dark locks of hair that have escaped her braid away from her plump cheek, his golden eyes warm with affection. His daughter stifles a yawn. “Can I stay here tonight, with you and Mama?” 

How can he say no? “Of course.” He shifts her, tucking her in close against his side where she curls up like a kitten, warm and content. Leon sighs, his heart fuller than he ever imagined it could be, before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Sariel

He looks up from the paperwork on his lap when the bedroom door slowly opens. One glance at the clock on his nightstand and he knows exactly who dares enter his room, unannounced, in the middle of the night.

His son, hair dark as onyx, eyes as bright as violets, peeks around the door to see his father sitting up in bed, reading by the soft light of an oil lamp. 

“I see you, little one.” The child gives up stealth and hurries into his parents’ room, climbing up the foot of the bed and crawling his way across the velvety covers up to Sariel, careful not to jostle you while you are sleeping. He settles in next to his father, peering at the sheaf of papers still in his hands. “Why are you still up, Papa? It’s so late.”

Sariel glances down at his son, his lips curved in a soft shadow of a smile. “You know what? You are correct. It is very late.” He carefully removes his glasses, placing them in a safe spot on his nightstand and then sets the missives and letters and parchments beside them. He extends his arms and his son happily accepts the silent invitation, burrowing into his father’s embrace, clutching his soft, stuffed snake with the onyx eyes close to his little chest. “We’ll go to sleep together, ok Papa?”

Sariel reaches out, extinguishing the warm light and then shifts, dipping his head to press a kiss to his son’s midnight hair. “A sound plan, son.” He closes his eyes, contentment flowing through him like the soft waves of the ocean. “A very sound plan.”

Jin

He freezes, lifting his head from your neck, his large hand going still on the sensitive skin of your hip. As involved as he may be with you, he has excellent hearing and the opening of the door is as loud in its whisper as a gust of howling wind. He feels the soft huff of air against his cheek as you reign in your galloping heart. Things were just getting good.... With a groan, a mixture of disappointment and the dying embers of desire, he sits up as you adjust your nightgown and tilts his head at the small outline in the doorway.

“Yes, Princess? What is it?”

“I heard a noise. In my wardrobe. I think there’s a monster in there.” Her voice is small, almost tentative as it floats through the darkened bedroom. Jin pushes back his covers, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed. He reaches back, squeezing your hand, a gesture that says I’ve got this, before getting up and walking toward his daughter. "Alright little lady, let's go investigate." She slips her small hand in his, clutching her stuffed baby eagle close as they make their way back to her bedroom.

Stepping inside, she pulls her hand away from his and points to the white and lavender closet. “In there, Papa.” Her garnet-colored eyes are wide as Jin clears his throat, fixing a scowl on his face as he faces the wooden doors.

“Listen up. This is Prince Jin speaking and any and all monsters hiding in this wardrobe better leave RIGHT now or else you’ll have to answer to me!”

“Yeah!”, she adds helpfully, eyes narrowing as she glares at the wardrobe, a mirror image of her father.

Jin reaches forward and flings open one door, then the other. Inside are all her dresses and coats. Her shoes all lined up neatly along the bottom. A few stockings peek out of small drawers and her wooden training sword and shield with Jin's crest lean against the side, askew. Jin searches through the clothing, stands on his toes to check the top shelves. He makes a show of it, incredibly thorough and yet serious. Then he turns around to face his daughter. “Looks like any monsters are long gone. And they won’t be coming back.”

A smile like the dawn breaks over her face and she rushes towards him. He leans down and catches her in his arms, holding her tightly against his broad chest. “Thank you, Papa. No monster would ever be stupid enough to come back now!” 

Jin carries her back to her white four-poster bed, grinning as he lays her down amongst her fluffy pillows and pulls the soft covers up to her chest. “Nope, not when they know they have to deal with me.” He glances over his shoulder at the wardrobe. “But how about tomorrow, we go to the knights training grounds and you bring your sword and shield. We can work on your swordsmanship so any monster knows to be just as afraid of you too.”

She grins, nodding eagerly. “Good idea!”

Her enthusiasm has him returning her grin and he leans down, running a large hand over the soft chestnut of her hair. “Alright then. Get some sleep so you’re ready for tomorrow.” She snuggles down into the warmth of her blankets, stifling a yawn even as she rolls over. “I love you, Papa.” He swallows for a moment at the lump of emotion that suddenly swells his throat. “I love you too. Princess. So much.”

Keith

Little feet whisper across dark green carpeting, continuing their journey to his side of the bed. “Papa,” she whispers, tugging on his covers, her stuffed deer dangling from her grip on its antlers. Keith inhales, his handsome face frowning in his sleep as her voice cuts through the fog of dreaming. But he doesn’t wake up yet. However, his daughter is nothing but insistent. She pats his upper arm, clearing her throat and speaking again, this time louder. “Papa. Wake up.”

His golden eyes open slowly and he blinks as he returns to the here and now. The sight of her, with her ashen blond hair and your intelligent eyes, has him sitting up in bed, the last misty tendrils of dreaming vanishing like fog in the sunlight.

“Yes, darling? What’s wrong? Is everything ok?” 

She glances to your empty side of the bed. “I miss Mama.” Those words send his heart spinning, leaving a trail of ache inside his chest as he nods slowly. “I do too. But you remember how she had to go back to Rhodolite. I promise, she’ll be home again soon. Just a few more days.” He reaches for her hand, his thumb running soothingly over her knuckles, marveling at the tininess of her fingers, the softness of her skin. She speaks again, her voice compressed by sadness. “I still miss her.”

He sighs as she hangs her small head, curls covering her face. Then he has an idea. Slowly he gets out of bed and leads her by the hand across the room to the heavy glass doors of the balcony off of the bedroom, his favorite place in the palace to stargaze. Keeping a secure hold of her hand, he slides open one heavy glass door and then walks with her to the large brass telescope. “Take a look in there,” he murmurs, kneeling as he adjusts the eyepiece for her. He wraps one arm around her middle, holding her close. “Can you see it?”

She leans forward slightly. “It’s blurry.” Carefully he adjusts the focuser until he hears her breath catch. “Oh it’s so pretty!” She stares through the telescope in wonder at the bright star, brilliant in its silvery-blue light. 

“That,” he says softly, almost dreamlike, “is your mother’s favorite star.” Gently he pulls her away from the telescope and points upwards. “You can see it without the telescope just there, see the three stars just in a row?” She nods emphatically. “It’s the one all the way to the right.” He pauses, resting his chin tenderly on her small shoulder. “When you miss Mama at night, like you do now, you can look up at the sky and find her favorite star. It may make you feel better.”

She turns around and wraps her arms around Keith’s neck, hugging him with all her might. “Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her close, this walking embodiment of his heart, and smiles.

Gilbert

He is already sitting up when his daughter approaches the bed, her stuffed tiger tucked under her arm. He heard the opening of the door and knew who it was immediately. No one else would ever dare to enter his bedroom in the middle of the night without fearing for their life.

“It’s past midnight, Mäuschen. Why are you wandering through the shadows?” His voice is a gentle that only you and those very close to Gilbert have ever heard. A genuine softness like the blanket of dusk as it falls over the land, the protective moon whispering as it cradles a favorite star. His daughter sighs, pushing away a stray lock of dark hair. “I’m hungry.”

He laughs quietly, his chin tilting down as he regards her. He speaks quietly, not wanting to wake you. You need rest after all, so close to the birth of your second child. He gets up, slipping on his black silk robe and then holds out his hand. She takes hold of it, wrapping her cool little fingers tightly around him and then pauses. “Wait a moment, Papa.” Turning back to the bed, she carefully places her stuffed tiger next to you where you sleep. “Watch out for Mama,” she orders sternly and doesn’t notice the bright gleam in Gilbert’s eyes as he smiles at her protective gesture. She turns, grabbing his hand and nods. “Ok Papa, fertig.” Ready.

He leads her out of the bedroom and a short walk down the hall to his office. Once inside, he walks over to his massive wooden desk, made of the finest dark walnut, and leans forward, turning on the desk lamp. He settles into his chair, into the crimson velvet cushioned seat and motions for her to join him. The Obsidian princess climbs into his lap, eyes bright as she looks at him expectantly. “Shh…this is our secret,” he murmurs, tapping his finger on the end of her nose. She grins slowly and nods. “Versprochen, Papa.” I promise. One arm holds her close as he leans down and opens a bottom drawer. Inside is a small round tin which he takes out and sets on his desk, next to the missives and parchments waiting for him come morning light.

“Go ahead,” he says encouragingly and she leans forward, carefully working the lid off with chubby fingers and then he feels her straighten up in excitement when its contents are revealed. She reaches in and pulls out a hearty oatmeal and raisin biscuit. The cookie is nearly at her lips when she pauses, thoughtfully. Shifting in his lap, she turns to face him and then holds it up. “Do you want a bite, Papa?” Her generosity has him smiling, a warmth like no other brightening his heart as he pretends to consider. “You don’t mind sharing?” She shakes her head, several loose, dark curls framing a face that is the youthful echo of yours. He leans forward and bites off a tiny corner, then leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Mama makes the best biscuits.” 

She bites into the same cookie with much less restraint and then smiles, chewing happily. “Mm hm.” She leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her as she continues munching. “Just this one and then it's back to bed with you, little mouse.” She nods, mouth too full to answer and focus far too lost in the pleasure of her treat to respond verbally. Gilbert sighs, turning to rest his cheek against the top of her head. He is utterly and completely at peace.

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-writer @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @curious-skybunny @rhodoliteschaos @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @portrait-ninja @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @mastering-procrastinating @namine-somebodies-nobody @greatstarlightstarfish @queen-dahlia @scorchieart @nightghoul381

For Leon content: @leonscape

For Gilbert and Leon: @ozalysss

For Keith: @drewadoodle-dandy

[yuurei20]

do you have references for the dorm head staffs?

like malleus' spinning wheel, leona's lion head...

i couldn't find full refs anywhere!

are they staffs inherited dorm head to dorm head? or are they just specific to each character

Hello hello, thank you for this question!

There are visual details provided for each Housewarden staff in the Magical Archives Game Guide! There is design-related information for some (i.e.: where the magestones are, how Savanaclaw's has two long feathers, two strips of fabric and two beaded strings, etc.) but not very much.

Diaomnia's has the most explanation behind it:

"(Malleus’) staff is based on the motifs of spinning thread and thorns. The idea is that, when it is used, magical thread runs through it and the gears turn. (This is really just an idea, I don't mean that that is what needs to happen!). I wanted (Malleus) to have a bulky staff that looks like it would be the most difficult one to handle, and this is what I came up with. It is just over 2.3m long...” - Twisted Wonderland Magical Archives Game Guide (2020)

Leona mentions wanting to remove the feathers from the Savanaclaw staff but not being allowed to do so. Perhaps they belong to the school and the housewardens are not allowed to alter them to suit themselves? (This is just conjecture! I have not been able to find any other references to the staffs in-game.)

According to Vil the housewardens are allowed to customize their dorm uniforms, but it seems that such freedoms might not apply to the staffs.

Concerning references: it is interesting that they never seem to appear in the in-game story, but this is possibly just a limitation of the visual-novel medium!

In the novels Riddle is described as having Heartslabyul's staff with him during both the first unbirthday party and his duel against Ace and Deuce, Leona wields Savanaclaw's staff in the scene where Jack, Riddle and the others confront him in Book 2, and Azul is carrying his cane when he meets Yuuya for the first time (also in Book 2).

Since Book 7 began the game has been making new advancements in animation with every new chapter, so maybe it is possible that we will see them with the sprites someday? :>

[madeinparadis]

SAFE | EREN JAEGER

pairing: eren jaeger × reader

cw: fluff and (mostly) angst, fear of loss/death, spoilers for the ending of the manga & anime ofc.

word count: 1.1k

masterlist: all characters

a/n: i was on the zaza (sleep deprived) while writing this, so the brief representation here of the paths is probably not the most accurate, especially given how the cabin scene in the anime & manga left some people confused. either way, hope you enjoy!

The birds chirped gleefully, flying over the roof of your cabin, their sound carrying the message that it was already morning– yet another day beginning and taking away your counted time with your lover, who lay serenely asleep beside you. You observed how the warm sunshine illuminated his face, casting a golden halo around his body that made him look angelic– it distracted you from the plans he would act out in the near future that were, in fact, the opposite of angelic. But pretending didn't hurt, and as long as you were here, you were safe.

You didn't understand the entire complexity and operation of the paths, but they were a very welcome escape for you. After all, if you were to live in reality on earth, Eren would be away from you, tormented and left alone to his own devices– instead, he built you both a home in the paths, which allowed you to run away from everything and just breathe, even if only momentarily.

As the sunlight passed between the curtains and hit his face directly, Eren slowly blinked his eyes open, looking at you.

“You should've slept some more. You seemed peaceful,” you asked, keeping a quiet tone.

“I was,” he replied, his gaze still melting into yours. “And if I got live like this by your side until my death, I'd live in peace.”

“Then don't go.”

“I don't want to go.”

“So stay.”

“You know I can't do that," he muttered. “I have to finish my plan.”

Your expression saddened as you listened to his words. You too knew he would have to leave you for his war, and you also knew you would be alone– all your comrades would go on with their lives, and you would be thinking back to the days when you lived in fear, but in love. It was a cruel reality, the one you lived in, and it was the price you paid for loving a man whose rage and determination made him a slave to freedom. You were, logically, more than aware of the fact that no matter how much Eren Jaeger loved you, he would never put a stop to his plan.

But you could always dream. Dream about a life where the titans never invaded your childhood home, or one where they didn't exist in the first place. In your dreamscape, you could both run off and get married, and Eren would build you a home even better than the one you had at the moment. You would live far away from the bustle in your hometown, somewhere in the countryside, where your days would be serene and quiet. Outside, you would gather the dry laundry with a big basket, watching your husband walk back home with a load of freshly chopped wood in his arms. Perhaps, inside your little cottage, you could find room for children of your own– a boy and a girl, much like Eren and Mikasa– they would each have different features from their parents, both in appearance and character. What would they be like? Would they be stubborn like their father, or curious like you? The possibilities were endless, and you cherished the thought of all of them. You could be a good mother, and you wanted nothing more than to be his wife someday. Maybe in another lifetime. In this one, all you could do was daydream as you mindlessly stared at the man lying next to you in bed.

You focused your eyes on Eren's hair, strands messy from the friction against your pillowcases. He looked serious today, and you moved your dominant hand up to softly card your fingers through his hair, continuing your observation of his features.

“I wish I could stop you from doing it,” you spoke up again.

“I know.” His gaze dropped down to your collarbones.

“It's unfair, you know. I should hate you for leaving me before we even got to live...” you stopped for a second, feeling a knot form in your throat. “But even if all of our friends are going to marry and build their own families while I visit your grave, I still can't hate you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you mutter. “I just wish things had worked out differently for us.”

“I do too. You know, when we were younger, I used to think that I would kill every titan, and then we would run away together afterwards.”

Eren's eyes met your own again, and you could sense an odd feeling of nostalgia linger in the air.

“We were so naïve back then.” You smiled, remembering your past days.

“At least now I can save all of you guys.”

You stayed in silence for a moment.

“But no one can save you.” Your hand slid down from his scalp to caress his cheek.

“You've already saved me,” he contested, placing his hand on top of yours, over his face.

“Not from death.” You felt tears well up in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“You can't stop me from dying.” He squeezed your hand slightly. “But you have stopped me from feeling like a dead man many times before.”

You reached your limit of stoicism, and what was a threat became a reality– Your eyes turned glossy and red as tears spilled out of them and fell on Eren's thumb, which brushed under your eyes and gathered your waterworks tenderly.

“What am I going to do without you?”

“Live your life freely.”

“I don't want freedom, I want you,” you choked out between sobs.

“You'll have me for as long as we're here.”

You curled up against him, letting him run his hands through your hair while your tears dried up. Despite it all, you were still with Eren, and he wasn't going to leave you just yet– so you enjoyed his presence while it lasted, listening to his heartbeat and engraving its sound and rhythm into your brain, in hopes that you would never forget it.

The two of you basked in the morning sunlight, and lay in bed curled up together until seconds turned into minutes, and you ended up losing track of time. Not very long after your tears dried, however, you tugged at Eren's shirt, gently guiding his face until his lips collided with yours, crashing like waves in a low tide– slow but impactful. Backing out to breathe, you let your fingertips ghost over his cheekbones, drinking in the sight before you like a relic, praying that all the memories you stored would stay with you for eternity.

Eren was right. You couldn't save him, and he could not stay with you forever. But as long as you were here, in your little cabin, he would be yours, and the two of you could be happy– away from the real world and the harsh truths that awaited you. It didn't hurt to play pretend. For now, you were safe.

[skyc47su]

A Silhouette in the Hidden Forest

It's dangerous to be here if you're not careful.

Is what he should've said, but now Minos seems like he's threatening you. He's not, he just worded it badly :'D

There's just something spooky with Sky children standing in the darkness, and their eyes and heart gem glowing in contrast.

I've always wanted to make something animated, mostly because as a child I've wanted to be an animator or a cartoonist. I may not achieve that dream, but during christmas I was suddenly hit with the "I need to try doing this!" and this is the result of my experimentation since then to new year's. I also appreciate animators more now, especially those that make their work fluid. Imagine having this as a job, my wrist is already aching for a mere few choppy seconds of animation!

There are flaws, I will admit. But I am rather proud of myself. Perhaps I'll make more someday, who knows? :D

"Minos" Lumino Tsar is my Sky child OC from Sky: Children of the Light. He's not mean, promise. Just socially awkward. Some WIPs while I practiced on this

[zarvasace]

And here are Dire and Madness, dark Twilight and dark Four!

Rambling and more art beneath the cut as has been standard :) only two more left to do and guys I love them

Masterpost

Dire

Dire is dark Twilight. 

He and Twilight share one major trait: they are protectors. Not even a process that bastardized Sky’s kindness could take that away. By no means is Dire nice, however. He is a Twilight that has lost all control and doesn't care to regain it, because that would mean facing all he's done. Some part of Dire is aware and suffering, but he purposely buries that part.  

But on the surface that he presents and identifies with, Dire lashes out at everything that causes him pain—which is a lot of things. Dire is no different from the other Darks, in that he can't stand the light and gets annoyed quickly. He doesn't often speak, and nobody is really sure how much he really understands of what's around him. He acts more like an animal than a human in a lot of ways, and is often a little more cruel than he has to be. He's unnaturally strong and quick, and his weapons of choice are his nails and teeth. He indulges his brutal urges because the alternative is thinking.

For plans that require destruction and fighting, the Darks let Dire run out first. He could probably fight an army on his own, provided that he has plenty of darkness and an enemy without too much strategy. He's powerful and extremely dangerous. Due to that, the Darks don't let him run free. They use the shackles around his wrists and neck to keep him nearby and out of maiming range. When they do let him out though (to hunt or fight or exercise or whatever), he always comes back…

Because Dire is a protector. He leans more offensive than Twilight, but Dire too knows friend from foe. He doesn't always care, but Dire has sorted the other Darks as “friend” in his head, and he won't let anything hurt them except for themselves, if he can. He's particularly fond of Madness and Nothing, and has been known to grab them and not let them go, even when they start biting. 

Dire’s design pulls a lot from the fever dream in Twilight Princess: gray skin, blank eyes. He has longer, more matted hair than Twilight. His claws are wicked sharp, and he wears tattered clothes without shoes. His wolf pelt is the softest thing about him, and it really should be washed. His markings are a bit more dramatic than Twilight’s, extending down his cheeks and arms and legs. 

Despite the markings, Dire does not have an alternate form like Twilight. Well, he might, but he was never cursed the same way, and this technically is his dark world form. Some combination of magic might give him the ability to shapeshift, but he doesn't need it. He's bestial as it is. 

Madness

Madness is dark Four! There is one big question here: is Madness the same person as Shadow from the manga?

Yes and no! Madness and Shadow do not exist at the same time as separate individuals. They were both made from Four’s darkness, but for different purposes. Shadow really did die when he smashed the mirror, and this isn't exactly a second chance… but it might be. Think of it like this: that body is a computer. Shadow was an operating system there, logging away memories and performing programs. Madness is on the same computer, but is a different operating system (a weaker one, really). However, those memories and personality from Shadow still exist, buried and only subconsciously influencing Madness’s behavior. They act eerily alike sometimes, not that anyone but Four would notice. Perhaps someday, Shadow’s OS will break through and become dominant, but even if he did, he wouldn't be the same. Madness would still be there. 

“Still rivers run deep”—to me, this is very much Four. One body, four colors; a deep knowledge of his chosen trade; a rather serious demeanor with a lot of variety and thoughts; plans and ideas backed up with a combination of emotion and logic. He's balanced. In contrast, Madness is a “fast river running shallowly,” an unbalanced amalgamation of too much, all at once, a broad variety with little substance. 

Madness is a little… unhinged. He's clearly smart, but he speaks in roundabout ways, making connections that don't exist or are too convoluted for anyone to follow. He stares into the distance a lot, and can be quite unnerving if you try to notice how often he blinks (rarely). Nobody can really decide how much of his behavior is on purpose or just how he is. When let loose, Madness shows unparalleled capacity for complex plans, but he doesn't always know how to hold back and often goes overboard. He'll beat that dead horse, and bomb those charred ruins, and smash that fallen vase… You get the picture. 

A lot of these Darks have an odd magical power, and Madness’s is one of the more prominent ones. With a touch, he can attempt to bury a bit of his power in the mind of a sentient being (human, Rito, Zora, Minish, etc) and turn them into a thrall. While a being is a thrall, their eyes turn red and their consciousness goes to sleep. Madness can give them mental commands, and they technically work under his processing power and not their own, so no matter how vague the commands are, they do what he means them to do. Madness can also jump into thralls’ heads to pilot them specifically, seeing from their eyes and speaking from their mouth. He doesn't magically know everything about the thrall, though, so he still has to try to impersonate, and that doesn't usually work well. While he pilots, Madness is still technically in his body, so he will say out loud anything he's commanding the thrall to say, which limits his opportunities to trick the others. 

Without commands, the thralls sit in still silence, which means that over extended periods of time, Madness does have to worry about food and rest for them. The more thralls he has, the less effective he is, because his focus is split, even if he isn't directly piloting more than one person at a time. If he lets someone go even for a moment, the connection is severed entirely. He absolutely refuses to use any thralls in a combat scenario, because he feels their pain, even though it's fainter when he isn’t directly piloting. He uses thralls instead to gather information, start rumors, purchase/steal supplies, and often just cause chaos. 

Madness is actually rather genre-aware. He knows that their schemes are destined to ultimately fail, because the Darks are the “bad guys” and they will lose. As such, he's hedging his bets and logging away information for an inevitable betrayal to the Lights. He does not intend to be on the losing side when it gets down to it. He has half-baked plans to snatch a few of the other Darks and take them with him, too. Madness absolutely does not take any sort of leadership role, which means that he doesn't feel any responsibility to rein in Nothing, making him Nothing’s favorite. Madness also spends time hanging out with Dire, who he thinks understands more than he lets on. Those two would be his first choices, and he thinks Nothing might know that. (This is not at all related to the fact that Shadow’s memories of betrayal are both sweet and bitter.) 

Madness does not get along well with Agony—Madness prefers chaos and mind games over Agony’s stab-first approach. He purposely annoys everyone else. Along with Depth and Shackle, Madness is one of the few Darks who can pass as human, so he's been on a few excursions into towns or groups, and he likes emphasizing his unnerving traits. He'll use a sword if he has to, but prefers bombs and words. He doesn't have any powers from Shadow (shapeshifting, stretchiness, whatever else), but he is very sensitive to light, like most of the Darks. 

Madness casts a wide net, putting on an air of randomness with a sprinkle of insanity for flavor. He connects more dots than he appears to, though, and has a few unexpected urges toward the light. Make no mistake, though, he is a Dark, and he has no intention of doing good just to do good. His ultimate goal is to survive the Dark Chain’s fall, and beyond that… traveling? Therapy? Living at home with people he doesn't hate? (Why does he feel an emotional connection to his Light? Why does he want to protect him? Why does he want to exercise his freedom? Why does it feel like he's running out of time until—)

[ponyartistbrainiac]

I know this won't mean much to y'all but after over 10 years of trial and error and practice and experiments my art has finally gotten to the place I wanted it to be since I was a small girl. I always wanted to make beautiful emotional pieces that i pour my heart and soul into that showed my passion with every stroke and despite being mostly blind I made it.

These pictures gain very little traction and get virtually no notice at all but despite it all I pour hours upon hours of blood sweat and tears to make pieces I can be proud of.

And even though no one understands me or my work (outside of my boyfriend who is the amazing light of my life I can't seem to stop myself from making them from time to time marking occassions only I understand but I always wish people would enjoy the art anyways for what it is.

Perhaps one day people will appreciate my work. Perhaps I will just be a blip in history that no one remembers or maybe some sort of cautionary tale about being autistic and having a passion that burns hotter then anyone can handle. Either way I am proud of how far I have come. Being mostly blind and autistic no one ever believed in me but maybe thats what fueled my urge to want to prove my worth to everyone by showing them how powerful my imagination truly is.

Even if it scares them...

Im not sure why I am writing this tbh my grandfather just died and I have been thinking about my life up until now quite alot this week. Where do I go from here? What do I do now?

My friends are all moving to live around me and its wonderful and crazy and everything is happening so fast. But I wish to push myself even further beyond.

Maybe someday i can make something that everyone can appreciate or atleast my peers. But for now perhaps I should look into new horizons perhaps maybe practice more on my aliens that I love to draw thanks to Outer wilds or maybe work on my animation skills so I can make moving pictures no one understands.

Anyways thanks for sticking around through everything if you have been here a while. The internets on fire and I am doing my best and if you are new... Hi I'm Pepper and I am glad you are here.

And thank you for everything

I started making these paintings after recovering from covid which I honestly thought was the end

I was so over joyed with being alive i painted that first painting of derpy and rarity and I have been chasing that level of zen... that high... ever since and I can finally recreate it consistently. Thank goodness

I was worried it was lightning in a bottle for a while...

Never give up!

[unbidden-yidden]

Hey fellow yidden: some motivation for you this Elul

So maybe this year you've done some backsliding on some mitzvot. So maybe you haven't davened as much as you would like. Maybe you missed opportunities to go to things in community because you just couldn't motivate yourself. Or perhaps there were things that you struggled to do individually.

Perhaps the reason that you missed opportunities for mitzvot is because you were afraid of missing out on something else.

Well, as a traditional egalitarian Jew who tries but has ADHD, depression, lots of executive dysfunction, a demanding job, relationships to maintain, and 900 hobbies, I feel you.

But fear not! I have two suggestions for ways to help you seek out mitzvot in every area of your life.

Suggestion the first: Weaponize the FOMO

At least for me, I'm always worried that if I daven as much as I would like to (as one example) I am going to miss out on [x] other thing. However, instead, sit yourself down and consider what one mitzvah you want to prioritize. Then, imagine never being able to do it again.

My friend, that day will come.

Mitzvot are for the living. A Jew being buried in their tallit has the tzitzit trimmed off first. Why? Because mitzvot are the project of the living and all we can know for sure about death is that it will come for all of us, eventually. If you believe in an afterlife, your deeds - good or bad - will accompany your soul on your way home. And you will be comforted and bask in the mitzvot you performed. And if you don't believe in an afterlife? Well, this is your one shot, and whatever deeds you leave behind is all that will be left of you someday.

Better wear those tzitzit now, then.

Suggestion the second:

Look for the kedusha in literally everything.

One of the truly amazing things about Judaism is that every moment, no matter how mundane, is full of opportunities to engage in mitzvot. Whether it's saying Asher Yatzar after using the restroom, washing your hands before meals, saying brachot before eating food, wearing certain clothing (tzniut, no shatnez, ritually significant like a kippah, etc.), being kind to animals (even insects), honoring your parents, visiting a sick or recovering friend, compromising with your spouse for shalom bayit, giving money to the poor, or simply reaching out to a friend who might be sad, lonely, and struggling - there are daily opportunities to connect and to infuse every moment of your life with holiness.

Judaism is so much about how we treat each other, our world, our bodies, and our communities, and these in turn are what help us to understand how to treat our souls and our relationship to the Divine. Judaism is about relationships. And the opportunities don't require you to go to shul, or don tefillin, wait for the high holidays, or give extravagantly. (Although those things are great if you want to do them, too!)

By design, the mitzvot are meant to allow you to connect with Judaism, with yourself, your world, and Hashem at every turn, simply by living your life. It's honestly a very old form of mindfulness, long before that was a buzzword.

So, weaponize that FOMO in one breath, knowing this is the only life we have, and in the next breath, really open your eyes to the opportunities that already surround you in every facet of your life. They are there if you look, and you will never miss out if you keep on looking.

[doodlemancy]

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh

so here's the deal re: this fucking horseshit. god i hate this.

i, personally, have mostly given up on trying to dodge inclusion in AI datasets. the stuff i make generally isn't what they're looking for anyway and there's no real way to 100% avoid being scraped short of becoming entirely invisible online, which would um, lead to me having no money and dying. that's part of the cruelty of all this, but also, in a way, it's the same risk artists online have always taken; if you want people to see your work, you have to post it knowing that some of those people are fucking lowlife piece of shit scumbags who will try to resell it on redbubble or something for a quick buck. AI is just a new and exhausting way for garbagey people to stink worse. i am not in any way excusing that behavior or trying to imply people should not be mad about it or that we shouldn't condemn this move and fight back. "if you don't want your work stolen, don't put it online" is the kind of shitty Internet Tough Guy talk i've always hated since my dA days. it's as useless and heartless as telling people that if they don't want their bikes stolen, they shouldn't leave them at the bike rack. i'm saying that i, personally, will not let a bunch of soulless thieving shitheads drive me offline. i belong here. they belong in a wifi-proof dumpster.

nightshade and glaze eat my artwork alive. they make it look terrible. when you have to sell things on the basis that they look nice, it's a big problem when protective measures make them look like dogshit. my work is not a good candidate for these processes. even if that weren't the case, i don't have the stamina, especially right now while my chronic pain is flaring for the third month in a row and my adhd meds are scarce, to go back and shade/glaze everything, and it wouldn't work on reblogs anyway. given the way midjourney and its equally stinky siblings have already scraped years and terabytes' worth of image data from popular websites, it doesn't seem worth my time. if you think it is worth yours i am not going to like, yell at you. i am just one person. but i want to be clear about the kind of situations some of us are being forced into.

i think some of the doomsaying about AI and what it will do to us has been overblown-- they need you, for marketing purposes, to believe that someday their shitty robot will be as good at "drawing" and as practical to work with as a human-- but the consequences of "AI" (which is not even actually AI) are already real and visible and obvious to anyone paying attention. i unfortunately am not infinitely wise and powerful and therefore do not have an ideal all-encompassing solution to this deeply stupid problem that the Most Unlikeable Manbabies On Earth have imposed on us after NFTs fizzled out.

what i do have is a very large repository of nice anime and game screenshots i've taken, knowledge of many archives of nice public domain images, a computer that can run nightshade overnight or while i'm off doing other things, and, most importantly, near-infinite capacity for pettiness. i do kinda feel like the jury is still out on how well nightshade/glaze will work in the long run, but in the meantime, i suppose it wouldn't cost me a lot to... perhaps... every time i get Mad About AI™, channel that anger into dumping some thoroughly-but-not-spammily-tagged, high-quality, inconspicuous poison onto this godforsaken hellsite via a secret side blog. i could make a batch of poison ahead of time, keep it on my phone, use my Toilet Scrolling Time or my Public Transit Time to post and tag up an image here and there. it could be a fun challenge to try to make some pretty robot poison that some humans will still enjoy.

the other thing we need to poison at this point, IMO, is the word "AI" itself, by being loudly and mercilessly critical of any company that dabbles in it, the same way we all clowned on any company that pushed their luck with NFT/crypto shit a couple of years ago. we need to have every corporation terrified that association with AI will tank their sales and hurt their brand. AI must = number go down and lots of people screaming at you. companies will fuck around. we must provide the finding-out. we shouldn't have to. but we can!

so make sure to let tumblr know you hate this. maybe you could include this interesting link (tw child abuse) about how Stable Diffusion was trained on some extremely serious crime. or these screenshots of Midjourney devs just sort of admitting what their whole thing is, which i got here but which have kinda been spread all over since January.

spite and anger can be forms of hope. that's all i have to say, or at least all i'm willing to type with my left hand tonight.