#process documents

[sugucidal]

theres so much to do and so little time aaahhhahhaha

[nevesceramics]

WIP peek at the hugging werewolves ♥

[chriskotiesen]

I've shared a few pretty straightforward images using my CRT effect, but not much yet that really shows off what an over-engineered monstrosity I've created.

For a start, it's actually 3D. I built most of this in Blender.

Except for the optional bit that simulates composite video artifacts. I wrote that part in shader code and apply it to the base image as a separate step.

I made a high-res shadow mask texture, so it looks pretty good even from absurdly close up.

I can also adjust the scanline hardness and swap the slot mask for a dot mask or aperture grille to simulate different types of display.

Raytracing the whole thing ensures that all of these little details look nice and get sampled correctly, and if I want to change the glare reflecting off of the screen...

...I can adjust it by rearranging the furniture in the room.

So... yeah. That's what is current going on whenever I post pixel art with my CRT effect. It's not quite perfect yet, but I think it's getting pretty good.

[mayasaura]

To be clear, I do ship Marcille and Falin!! I just ship them as.... complicated, you know? They have dyke drama. Marcille is deluding herself that Falin hasn't grown up and she's not going to age, and she's not going to die no matter what Marcille does, and Marcille isn't going to have to live most of her life having lost her. Meanwhile poor Falin would like a step by step written explanation of how to convince her very good elf friend that she is an adult, and has some potentially adult feelings about getting wet and naked and crawling into bed together

[alphabetcompletionist]

my abecedarians. my booboo bears. i beseech y'all for those scholarly article websites. my uni databases keep giving me results for articles that aren't available and, like a pirate with a helm on his crotch might say, it's driving me nuts

ABCDEFGHI KLMNOP RSTUVW Y

22/26

[faivsz]

merrin study based off of @animatedjen's photography

[cirque-dhomosexual]

Hey um? So you wavier (and other ship of the guy I can't remember) fans (if you exist???) Yall do realize if Netflix had an issue with the content of the book they would've a) not have employed the author or b) made them rewrite it, right? Like, are yall aware of the editorial and commission process????

[doggy-faggy]

Twink death <3

[ubejamjar]

day 8 - touch grass

Precious few hours remained before sundown, and Ajisai spent every second devouring the knowledge trapped in musty parchment and timeworn leather. Reading to the song of the sea-salt breeze whispering through the grass by the light of a dying day was a kind of peace she'd never known.

auraugust promptos

[obsob]

looking at videos and pics of peoples pretty sketchbooks always makes me feel weird. so here is what my Perfectly Ordinary sketchbook looks like, that i maybe draw in once every 10 days (if that!) :3

[mudzdale]

finally, my magnus opus, complete... this was an impulse, do-it-stupid project for me to tackle. i suppose it doesn't count as a ragdoll if it's made out of specifically-purchased new fabric rather than rags, though...

some process photos under the cut

feeling out the design goals + patterning. this initial pass was very inspired by @bittertoxicity 's plush designs of the cast! i wound up moving away from that as i worked, but honestly, his work is so much cuter still, and i really admire it 😄

after 3 or so failed attempts at getting well-proportioned patterning stitched & stuffed, i lopped off one piece's head and then grafted it back on to create a longer neck. unfortunately, this successfully acheived the desired effect. the epitome of my do-it-stupid technique.

the face pieces were stitched on. he is constructed entirely out of no-pill fleece (the closest accessible kind next to the puppet variety), and honesly i don't know how those raw edges are going to hold up over time. if he ever gets a second pass, this would be wiser to just do with felt.

i had wanted to simply embroider his eyebrow, but after multiple failed attempts at getting the shape right, it started to damage the fabric ): i gave up and cut an eyebrow out of fabric, and stitched it on like his other face pieces.

his clothes are removable! i fit and stitched these prior to adding his hair, correctly guessing that the hair would make it very hard to work with his developing outfit. someday, i may be inclined to make different little outfits for him, however...

the hair itself was another huge challenge (the clothes alone took weeks, fwiw). if there are patterns out there for long, non-yarn hair, i sure couldnt find them. i wound up freestyling each piece by draping them over his head like a ridiculous veil, and stitching down my "darts" from there (in quotes bc i didnt even bother to cut them away like real darts should be cut...)

overall, my vision for the hair turned out to be verrrry different than the final product, but it's probably for the best. maybe i'll experiment more if he's ever to be remade

oh, and, he is hatless because, like, i dont like the hat anyways, but in the interest of making his outfits changeable, a hat would be a lot of hassle. that's either something that has to be stitched on and cut off for outfit changes (wtf), velcro'd on (um, no way), or magnetized on (what a pain...). so i guess maybe someday, but definitely not today...

[shrews-things]

Things about top surgery that I didn't expect (double incision)

It hurt so much less right after waking up than I thought it would, it was similar to pneumonia lung pain like kind of a burning sensation

Wasn't hard or upsetting to get used to my new look!! Also there isn't an ounce of regret in me, I thought I'd have some at least in the first few weeks

I had the posture of a shrimp for like two whole weeks from that compression garment

It itches as it heals which is fucked up bc I can't feel shit in any of it and also when I try to gently pat it to make the itch go away, I can't feel that either so it doesn't help :')

I'm like 5 weeks post-op and I still can't raise my arms above my head gdkdhskhdn

Still reaching for a bra or binder out of habit when getting dressed

It still feels like I'm somehow??? Hiding my chest???? Like when I was still just binding, I still go like "oh this is a good outfit, it hides my chest well" boy you haven't got a chest to hide

The urge to pull out the loose ends of my dissolvable stitches,,,,

[nevesceramics]

Video showing the grazing donkey sculpt from start to finish!

[reimenaashelyee]

Hey con-fucking-gra-tulations on the Ignatz nomination! You fucking deserve it!!

Aw thank you!!! YEAH!! Gosh, I have been so drowning in my postgrad that I hadn't had time to announce this properly:

God of Arepo is shortlisted for the Ignatz for Outstanding Online Comic and UP FOR VOTING until Sept 8th!!! (Please make our sacred tumblr text award winning pls yall cos if we win, the trophy is an actual literal brick stamped with the honours. Idk what to do with it yet, but I am probably going to ask someone to break it into 5 pieces and send one piece each to the authors plus myself).

Plus on that same week, I got shortlisted for the Comics Arts Awards too!! For both God of Arepo and My Aunt is a Monster. Really cool stuff happening aaaa

[flowercrowngods]

ronance yearning hours

Mornings like this are becoming Nancy’s favourite thing, with the rising sun painting the room in golden light that always, always lands on Robin, who usually sleeps long past sunrise when she can. Nancy lets her; there’s nowhere for her to go anyway on this slow Saturday morning in Steve’s house, and the boys will only wake in an hour or so.

Nancy has taken to using that time to watch the picture of absolute serenity that is a sleeping Robin, with her cheek smushed into the pillow and her hair falling over her face in a way that never fails to make Nancy smile.

It also never fails to make her fingers twitch, itching to reach out and brush that hair behind her ear and see if her cheek is as smooth to the touch as it looks.

It gets stronger, this urge, with every slow Saturday morning that she wakes in the same bed as her. The journalist inside her wants to find a better word for it, a stronger one, to avoid repetition and ensure clarity. But all the words are big and carry implications for which Nancy is not yet ready.

She refuses to call it longing, this need inside her to touch and linger. She refuses to call it yearning, the way she looks forward to Friday nights at Steve’s with Robin and Eddie, or the way it fills her chest with excitement and giddiness just to think about sharing a bed and waking next to her and watching as all the things that overwhelm Robin on a daily basis are held off for at least another hour yet.

What’s in a word? she’ll scoff when it comes to interviews and articles and hours of agonising over sentence structure and synonyms.

But it’s on mornings like this that she realises that some words require bravery and tenderness rather than simple contemplation and calculation. Some words take time.

Beside her, Robin sighs quietly in her sleep, and Nancy shuffles closer. Because if she can’t be brave with words yet, not even with herself, she can at least be closer.

Using the momentum of a moment unguarded, her right hand comes up before she can stop it, finding a home on Robin’s cheek as she slowly, reverently brushes the hair out of her face and behind her ear. Her touch is light, fingertips ghosting over soft, warm skin — and feeling that softness upon her touch, she wonders if falling in love with Robin would be just as soft, just as gentle; just as warm.

Not a second later, Nancy pulls her hand away as if burned, her heart racing in her chest as if it were signalling her to run, you should be running, i’m racing like you’re running for your life before you’re caught and found out. Nancy balls her hand into a fist and scoots further back on the bed, feeling a heaviness inside her chest that has only been there for a few of these mornings. A fear. A panic.

Because terrible things happen when Nancy Wheeler wonders about love and touch and tenderness. And worse things still, because it’s not supposed to be like this. Not with Robin.

So she stays on her side of the bed, watching the sun dance along Robin’s skin, her hand still warm, the ghost touch of Robin’s soft cheek still present. And she watches, hand cradled to her chest to stop herself from reaching out again. She watches and wonders if maybe she should start using bigger words, because the pit in her chest is growing larger with every passing second and she needs something to fill it.

~*~

It happens again the next week. And the week after that. It seems like the first time broke something in Nancy, or maybe it came alive, but either way she can’t really stop reaching for Robin now. And her repertoire of words is growing with each Saturday morning, too. Longing, aching, yearning — they are classics. But there’s basking, too. Hoping, wishing, and imagining. God, does she imagine.

She imagines Robin’s lips turning up into a smile with Nancy’s hand on her cheek, she imagines her hand coming up to capture Nancy’s and just holding it. Or an image that makes her heart race again: kisses brushed to her knuckles. Or her lips.

She imagines, and she wishes, and she longs. But there’s also belonging. In fact, there’s a whole novel Nancy feels she could write in those early morning hours. A thousand pages dedicated to all the words that exist around Robin Buckley. Words that live inside Nancy; that part is important.

Four weeks have passed and the feelings have only grown stronger, developed more words that will forever remain between her and the morning sun. And Nancy can’t stop herself from trailing the back of her finger along smooth, warm skin, the touch too light to disturb the sleeping beauty.

Sleeping Beauty, who stills and stiffens minutely, but Nancy is too mesmerised to notice until it’s too late.

“You’ve gotta stop this,” Robin whispers, her voice hoarse from sleep, and Nancy’s heart leaps out of her chest in panic and embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she whispers, pulling her hand back toward her chest. She’ll explain. Robin had something on her face that Nancy brushed away, that’s all. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s—

“Or I’ll fall madly in love with you if you don’t.”

Oh. Oh?

Oh.

Nancy swallows as her thesaurus dissolves and all words escape her. She blinks. Robin’s eyes are still closed but there’s a shadow of a smile on her lips, dimpling the skin that Nancy caressed just seconds ago.

There is the chance to just ignore that this ever happened, with Robin not looking at her, not making this moment real yet, on the brink of sleep and wakefulness. All she’ll have to do is wait. It’s the best chance she’s ever going to get, to forget about all this and get over it. Over her. Over whatever she has been building inside herself under the light of the rising sun over the past weeks.

All she’d have to do is remain still and silent and wait for Robin to fall back asleep.

But there was something about big words and bravery, and even though her thesaurus has left her and the thousand pages of things to feel, to say, to do, to think around Robin have torn themselves up because they were bleak and bland and not enough, Nancy feels brave on this particular morning.

Because the world hasn’t ended yet in all those weeks that she’s been thinking about Robin. In fact, the world has stopped ending since she started seeing Robin for who she is. And in a world where bravery is not about surviving, it is always about love.

And maybe that’s what she feels, maybe that’s what she wants, what she allows herself to want when she lays her hand on Robin’s cheek to caress the softest skin and gently comb back the strands of hair that are threatening to fall back over her face again. Her beautiful face that’s pulling up into a smile now — and Nancy is not imagining it. In fact, she’s smiling, too. She’s smiling so wide that a tiny little laugh bubbles past her lips.

Robin scoots closer, eyes squinting open now, as if to make sure this is real. As if she’s feeling the same. As if she meant it, what she said just now.

Nancy swallows thickly when Robin tucks her head under her chin, her body curling into Nancy’s, finding one of her hands to hold it. She still feels too raw, too vulnerable, and she wants to ask. Wants to be sure. Wants it to be real.

“Five more minutes,” Robin says, already on her way back to a deep sleep. “And then we’ll talk about this. I’ll tell you all about this girl I like. Think she might like me back. And she’s so warm.” She buries a little deeper into her side to chase that warmth that is now filling her whole body.

And Nancy gasps out a laugh this time, a tiny one, gentle and tender and all those words that are slowly coming back to her now that Robin is curled into her side and holding her hand. Her free hand comes up to comb through Robin’s hair in steady motions to lull her back into a slumber.

“Sleep,“ she breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Robin hums, cuddling impossibly closer, and Nancy feels herself drifting off again, too. With a smile on her face. For the first time in years.

[spockandawe]

Oh god, i finally pull the trigger on sampling new hobby (macrame. a dark painted guest bedroom with highly textured neutral wall decor will fix me)

I begin this during book club, which started at 8, to help refresh my brain after shotgunning moby dick in WAY too little time.

WELL, now it's two in the morning and I'm just staggering to bed 🥲

(I'm not good yet and accidentally picked a bad beginner cord and there's sooooo much to go, but aaaaa it looks so COOL! So many TEXTURES!)