distorted figure

The Galra in ‘Belly of the Weblum’ is Keith’s Mom.


1. Although the character has he/him pronouns assigned, the idea of characters not being the gender that they are assumed, specifically females assumed to be male, has already been explored with Pidge. Possible foreshadowing?

2. The character doesn’t speak. Although this could mean something else, I feel like it’s a point made that if this character were to speak, we would think differently of the Galran. In this show, female-coded characters  are given a large spectrum of body types (which is WONDERFUL, by the way), but they almost always have feminine voices, unless the species has very altered/distorted speech. 

3. The figure of this character is VERY feminine. Although female anatomy is very explored in this show, it’s not so much with male. Although it would be WONDERFUL to have a curvy guy in this show, I don’t think this is the case. This Galra has a similar figure to Allura- the most traditionally feminine character in the show. Take a look: 

Look at that. That’s nearly hourglass. That screenshot could easily be defended, though. I think this one is the most overt:

This pose emphasized femininity completely. Look at the curves in the legs, the lack of muscle in the thighs. Although armor in this show tends to be bulky over the chest, it does seem like there slightly more to the chest, implying breasts (though many alien species in the show do not have females with breasts, the Galra are shown strongly as humanoid mammals, so I would assume that female Galra have breasts.) And the crotch- if you’ve taken a drawing class, that is not the way you draw male crotches. The show might just be downplaying genitalia- but to do that, they usually tend to have bulky armor or baggy clothes around the crotch, not just completely smooth it out. This is a very flat look- not masculine at all. Again, we’re working with a show that has progressive body types and ALIENS, for chrissake, so who’s to say. 

4. Keith’s mom is most likely the one who gave him his knife. And it’s a rebellion knife- this character is odd because, why would a singular Galra be off by themselves, in what appears to be a small aircraft, in a place as dangerous as a Weblum. If anything, Galran’s don’t appear to like being seperated. They don’t like independence. They create operations. They have slaves. They harvest. They don’t send singular people to do anything. So what was a lone Galra doing? Well, a rebel force wouldn’t have the need or supplies to send off a single Galra to collect resources. I think Keith’s mom is a traitor- her reasoning for being on Earth. I think she was with the rebellion for awhile but eventually ended up on Earth, somehow. And, that Galra steals from Keith, but doesn’t attack him or alert the empire to where he is- I think at this point in time, Keith’s mother is alone with no connections. She has no idea what to do, but she need’s fuel for her aircraft to get somewhere. Wouldn’t any other Galra who was stranded, and happened to find two Paladins of Voltron, immediately alert the empire?

I’m not sure, but I think it’s heavily implied. 

Help Me {Soulmate AU} {Part 2} [D.M.]

Character: Draco Malfoy
Word Count: 1267
Requested?: Yes/No
Summary: Soulmate AU where whatever Y/n writes on her skin also appears on her soulmate’s skin. Draco is determined to find the girl who is begging to be saved from herself.
WARNINGS: Do not read if you are triggered by depressive thoughts.
Other parts: Part 1 Part 2
Disclaimer: Gif isn’t mine, credit to whoever made it
Tags: @xoxoaudreymarie

+ + + + +

He swore to himself, glaring down at the ink covering his hand. His heart was pounding, but maybe that was just a side effect from finally finding out the identity of his soulmate.

Why did it have to be you?

He pulled his sleeve down, trying to hide the markings, hoping somehow this was all a misunderstanding, that it was a joke. He knew though, he knew it was real.

How could this be happening to him? A muggleborn as his soulmate, whoever heard of such a thing? His heart clenched at the idea.

What would his parents say?

He thought of you, and the way your hair fell, framing your face perfectly (though he’d never admit that out loud), and the way your eyes used to sparkle, but lately they’d looked dull.

He’d had an insight to your thoughts through the messaging back and forth, but never had he even dreamt that it would be you on the other side.

At least now he had an idea of why you hadn’t seemed like yourself for the past however many months. He had meant what he said - he wanted to help his soulmate out.

But now he knew his soulmate was you, did he still want to help?


Your thoughts swarmed around your head like wasps, shutting you away from the rest of the world. Each separate thought felt like a sting on the inside of your skull, a painful reminder of how awful the world really was.

You couldn’t focus on anything going on around you; it was as if there was no sound, and many distorted figures moving.


“Huh?” You looked up, suddenly aware of the fact you were sat in the Great Hall, surrounded by your housemates.

“Are you okay, you looked out of it there,” a girl asked, frowning a little. If you were more focused, maybe you’d be able to remember her name. You nodded, sighing under your breath before standing up and walking in an almost ghost-like manner to the exit.

What you weren’t expecting when you left the Hall was to see the platinum blonde that you had been trying to abstain from being in the company of. Your heart jolted as you ducked behind a pillar, hoping he hadn’t seen you.

“Y/n! Will you stop avoiding me? You can’t do this forever,” a voice said. You close your eyes and sighed, feeling defeated. “I can try,” you replied as you moved back out into the open.

“I don’t understand why you’re trying to stay away from me. Obviously you’re not happy about this, but neither am I! Do you know how this will affect me? You’re a mudblood! This isn’t fair at all! My soulmate is a mudblood, who has barely any friends! You don’t understand what this will do to my status!” Draco complained like a child, looking exceedingly irritated.

I don’t understand? You’re the one who doesn’t understand, Malfoy. You’ll never understand anything. So your soulmate is a muggleborn? So what? At least your soulmate isn’t a condescending git who doesn’t care about anyone but himself!” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Of all the people it could have been, why did it have to be you?” He asked, as if you knew the answer, “It’s not fair. This is by far the lowest point of my entire life.”

“Oh give me a break, you spoilt little rich boy! You’ll never know what it’s like to have a hard life! You’ve always had everything done for you, and you’ve ruined everybody else’s happiness. Do you know how excited I was when I first started Hogwarts? Imagine, you’ve spent your whole life thinking magic isn’t real, and then suddenly you’re told, ‘hey, you’re a witch!’ So you pack your bags, and you head to this giant castle, and you’re happy.

Then you arrive, and you realise there are people that actually think you’re not as good as them, because of something you can’t even control - who your parents are. And you get called a mudblood, and a blood traitor, and you have no idea what you ever did to deserve it, but apparently you’ve done something because the blonde boy who everyone seems to bow down to seems to hate you!

Fast forward a couple of years, and you’re close to a breakdown, you’re on the edge. You cling to the one good thing you have left, the last good thing - your soulmate - and they turn out to be the person you hate most in the world, that same blonde boy who encouraged everyone else to hate on you in your first year.

So no, no this isn’t fair. And I’m sorry I’m not who you wanted me to be, but you’re not the victim here, so stop acting like it,” your voice dropped to nearly a whisper by the end, as you turned around and began to walk off.

“Wait, Y/n!” You heard him shout after you, but you ignored him as your pace quickened to escape his company.


I’m sorry, okay?

You had been staring at your hand for almost 10 minutes now, your heart thumping hard as you read the three words over and over.

How were you supposed to reply to that?

The quill hovered over your hand as you contemplated the best response.

Doesn’t matter, it’s okay.

It was a lie, but it was the best you could come up with at this moment in time.

It’s not okay though

You didn’t respond, you just watched as the words suddenly disappeared, as if they were being wiped away.

Meet me in the Astronomy Tower. Properly, this time. I wa need to talk to you. In person.

You pursed your lips and sighed. There was no harm in going, right? With any luck, he’d apologise in person. You shook your head to yourself. Best not get your hopes up.



The silence was almost overwhelming, and you wondered whether it was just a prank, that he wasn’t actually going to show up. You almost felt relieved when you saw the familiar head of blonde hair emerging from the darkness.

“You came,” he breathed out, sounding a little on the shocked side. “Yeah. Now what did you want to say?” You asked, trying to get straight to the point so you could go back to bed.

“Look, I know I was a git before, but please just overlook that. I was shocked, okay? I didn’t.. I mean I hadn’t accepted that you were soulmate yet. What I asked you here for.. was to ask you… well, can’t we work this out? It’s not going to be easy, I know, but we can do this. You’re my bloody soulmate, after all! The universe clearly wants us to be together, for whatever mixed-up reason. I’m willing to try, if you are. I know you hate me - I’m not exactly fond of you either - but we can make this work. What do you say?” Draco suggested, looking directly at you.

You looked away, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you debated the options in your head.

He had helped you out a lot in the past few weeks, though he didn’t know who you were. Was there a chance he’d be able to help more?

With that in mind, you looked up into his blue-grey eyes and nodded, “Okay. We can try and work it out.” He smiled at you - a real, genuine smile that almost - almost - made your heart flutter.

Maybe, against all odds, you could work this out after all.

In the mid-1970s, Peter Saul painted a number of responses to Willem de Kooning’s famous works, including Woman and Bicycle (1952–53). Saul spoofed de Kooning’s contorted female figure with distortions of his own, rendering the face as a grotesque cartoon and crowding the composition with Day-Glo forms that both draw upon and poke fun at Surrealism and Pop. At once homage and attack, Saul’s painting challenges art history while at the same time claiming his place within it.

a little darkness to get you going


For the past week or so, Pan had been watching you sneak from your cabin during the middle of the night. Not that Pan was watching you like a weirdo (he felt like a weirdo the first time he did it), but the fact that one of his Lost Children was sneaking away in the dead of night raised his curiosity.

Yet tonight again, Pan stood at the window in his tree house, watching you tiptoe your way out of camp. He turned around, rubbing his hands over his face with a sigh as you went out of view, into the forest. Pan didn’t like it when you left because what if something happened to you? Not that there was anything too bad on Neverland to fear, but what if a mermaid got you? What if you fell? He rolled his eyes, as all these annoying what ifs were giving him a headache.

“I just… don’t understand why… she feels the need to… sneak out of camp.” Pan spoke slowly as if trying to think up reasons between his words.

Felix shrugged, his attention caught on the piece of wood he was carving in his hands. “Well does she do anything?”

“She does nothing around this island.” Pan rolled his eyes. “All she does is follow me around and complain.”

“Not that kind of do anything. Does (Y/N)… I don’t know. Does she dance? Or sing? Or draw? Has she ever mentioned anything she likes to do before?” Felix ended his sentence with a mumbled curse word, as the blade slipped from his grip and narrowly missed his finger.

Pan scrunched his eyebrows, the sound of the playing and screaming Lost Boys somewhere behind him. You had mentioned a while back that you enjoyed to sing but could that be the reason? Was it really that… simple?

“Well (Y/N) likes to sing…” Pan shrugged.

Felix nodded, a duh expression taking over his features. Pan’s eyebrows shot up in realization but yet, he wasn’t completely convinced. You could be trying to find a way off the island for all he knew.

“What’re you carving anyways?” Pan asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. Felix grinned, holding up the distorted figure. “It’s suppose to be like, a miniature sword but it looks like —.”

“It kind of looks like Tinkerbell.”

The two boys erupted into chuckles, as the thing in Felix’s hand did kind of resemble Tinkerbell in an unflattering way. They were followed by a beat of silence afterwards.

“You know Pan, I don’t usually suggest this kind'a stuff but if you’re so curious about (Y/N), why don’t you follow her?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Pan sighed, rubbing his jaw in thought but he quickly dismissed the topic.

That same night, you creeped out of your tent and down the forest path you had memorized so well. It was lit by the moonshine as the sky was particularly clear tonight, which only added to your excitement.

Nobody on Neverland knew you lived to sing. Nobody except maybe Pan, but you genuinely doubted he cared. Being the only girl on Neverland definitely had its perks but sometimes, you felt like the disadvantages outweighed the perks. Rather than the group of boys hearing and teasing you endlessly about your singing, you opted for sneaking away from camp to enjoy the music you created in peace. It’s not like you were even a bad singer — you were pretty damn good if you asked yourself. But it wouldn’t matter if you were the greatest singer to grace the Earth, as the boys would find any chance to poke fun.

Your mind had wandered and eventually you found yourself at the small meadow you had been visiting for the past days. It was dark and slightly eerie but you knew you were completely safe, which happened to be one of the perks you had thought of earlier.

You started with the chorus of a basic pop song, one you had remembered the radios playing often when you lived on the Mainland. The more you sang out the more confident you became, a small smile tugging at your mouth. You playfully moved your hips along to the catchy song, ending with a laugh at your own silliness. As it always does, your mind left your thoughts and soon you imagined yourself as a singer on stage. You skipped around the meadow, twirling and holding notes out as you completely lost yourself in your acapella.

Pan stood hidden enough to remain unseen but also out enough to where he could see you and honestly, he had never seen you so… alive. Your voice was better than words, as he hadn’t heard good singing in years.

A boyish smile pulled at his mouth from watching you and without thinking, he leaned against a tree, loudly cracking branches as he did so. Pan held his breath as your dancing came to a halt. You tucked some loose hair behind your ear, focused on the spot where you had heard the cracking. Someone had been watching you and instead of panic, embarrassment flooded you.

“Who’s there?” You called. It wasn’t the fact that they caught you singing and dancing, but more the fact they were spying was what embarrassed and angered you.

Pan stumbled through the bushes, brushing off pine needles and tree bits that had fallen onto him.

“Pan?” You accused with a shrilly voice.

“Hello, love.” Pan nodded. “You’re singing woke me up so I came out to see what was happening.”

“…It’s never woken you up before… Did you follow me?”

Pan dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I had no idea you could sing that lovely.”

Your face flushed peach and you looked down. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not makin’ fun. Your voice is wonderful, I’ve never heard anything like it.”

Somehow you still didn’t believe him and with a roll of your eyes, you ducked past him and back on the path to camp.

“(Y/N), wait!” Pan huffed, storming after you. Your walk turned into a jog, as you just wanted to lock yourself into your tent and hide until morning.

Pan obviously caught up to you and with a yank on your wrist, he stopped you.

“Let’s go.”

“No, seriously. I’m not kidding or making fun. When were you going to tell me you could sing?”

“I did tell you.”

Pan shook his head. “Anyone can sing but when were you gonna’ tell me that you could really sing?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, half uncomfortable with his close proximity but also half enjoying it.

“You’ve got a set of lungs on ya’.” He smiled and suddenly, the setting became a lot more intimate. Pan’s face was lit from the star shine and he was smiling soft enough to where tiny dimples formed in his cheeks.

“Why don’t you sing at camp more?”

“The boys make fun of me.” You softly tugged your wrist from the grasp he still had, feeling his fingerprints still warm on your skin.

“No one would make fun. I promise.” You shrugged, feeling shy in front of him. He had never been this soft nor gentle with you, as you only saw the cold hearted leader he so hardly strived to be.

“We should get back, it’s getting late.” You mumbled.

Pan wordlessly agreed and walked by your side, shoving his curled up fists into his winter jacket.

“Can you sing more around camp?” He spoke again. “It would make lots of the younger Lost Boys happy, you know… It’d make me happier too.”

You didn’t answer right away, keeping your eyes aimed at the ground. “It would?”

“Yeah. Think about it.” Approaching camp and walking to your tent, he left you with a goodnight before returning to his tree house.

And you did think about it. Recently the camp had been filled with music, sung by the youngest boys to the oldest boys. You had one eventfully day started singing while everyone completed their camp chores and one by one, boys started to fill in and sing songs from their childhoods, creating a wonderful choir of songs.

Just as Pan promised, no one had made fun of you and the Lost Boys camp became more cheerier than anyone could ever remember.

datsatoiletvg  asked:




“Ohh Brycey-poo~ I’m leavin’ you for last, it’ll be fun to play with my food for once~” Ohm teased, sending shivers down Bryce’s spine as the game finally loaded. 

“Whatever, you ain’t touchin’ this booty Ohm.” Bryce joked, earning a laugh from the group. His character moved around, he was focused on finding a generator to fix and avoiding Ohm as much as possible.

“Oh, just wait after the session Brycey~” Ohm teased, turning invisible and scanning the area. 

“Guys, Ohm’s the wraith,” Delirious noted. His eyes followed the distorted figure move around as his character was in the middle of destroying a hook. Ohm gave a silent curse. 

“Oh hey, Cartoonz! Help me out here.” Bryce called out to catch his fellow survivor’s attention, working on the generator once they were together. “Alright don’t mess this up, dude.” He said as a bright explosion caused the characters to step back before resuming to their working positions. “What did I say?!?” Bryce yelled at Cartoonz, forcing himself to run away. 

“I’m sorry! I got scared. I’m fin- AH SHIT!” Cartoonz yelled, bells chiming to reveal Ohm giving a large swing and injuring his shoulder. 

“Ohh Cartoonz! Come over here!” Ohm howled, soon downing Cartoonz with another hit.

“God dammit I’m so dead!” Cartoonz cursed, his character was finally put on a nearby hook. He tried to ‘Attempt Escape’ but to no avail, he now had to spam his buttons to prevent being stabbed from unworldly claws. Ohm only chuckled at his struggles, watching Cartoonz soon giving up and his character’s soul ascending to god knows where.

“1 down~ 2 to go. Are you excited Brycey~?” Ohm questioned, cloaking himself once again for another hunt.

“Erm… I’m not sure how excited you would be after I finish this!” Bryce confidently answered. The generator he was secretly working on finally lit up, leaving 2 generators to be fixed soon. Delirious and Cartoonz laughed, Ohm only gave a low growl. Luckily he was able to find another survivor who was distracted with a generator.

“Who’s this lovely lady~?” Ohm uncloaked himself, a scream from Delirious erupted as he was hit.

“Nope, nope, nope, nope!” Delirious panicked, trying to escape by throwing barricades to stun Ohm.

“Run Delirious run!” Cartoonz tried to motivate his best friend. Unfortunately, Delirious was struck and soon hung on a hook, earning a sigh of disappointment as Ohm laughed again.

“God dammit! You guys did this to me.” Bryce complained, watching Delirious’ status turn into a skull.

“Don’t worry Bryce, you got one genny left. You should be good if you don’t do the bad boom boom.” Cartoonz reassured, giving Bryce some form of hope. Bryce only rolled his eyes before working on another generator. He was lucky that he didn’t come into contact with Ohm but the possibility of him creeping up and giving him false hope made him stand on edge. 

It was quiet… too quiet. At this point, Ohm would’ve already found him. Something was wrong but nevertheless, Bryce finally fixed the last generator, he made a dash to the exit switch and soon, he managed to finally escape. 

“Erm… I guess Ohm had to do something?” Delirious questioned.

“Don’t know, but it’s gettin’ late so I’ma hit the hay.” Bryce shrugged as he turned off his recording equipment and the game.

“Alright, have a good sleep.” Cartoonz said, the Skype call ending afterwards. With a heavy sigh of exhaustion, Bryce exited his office and headed to his personal bedroom. 

The ajar door to Ohm’s room caught his attention, it was nothing but darkness inside from what Bryce could tell. Curious thoughts lingered his mind, his arm pushing the wooden door open, wondering into the mysterious area. The lights to Ohm’s monitors were still on, showing a strange message in a large font size. Bryce had to squint so that he would adjust to the new lighting, forcing himself to move closer in order for a better look.

“Look behind…?”

“Gotcha Brycey~” Two arms wrapped around Bryce’s waist, a shock of fear made him jump. Bryce recognised the use of nickname and teasing tone which belonged to Ohm. 

“Ohm? Where were you? You left before we could end the game…” Bryce turned his body around to face Ohm, he only just tightened his grip afterwards. “Ohm… I’m kinda stuck in your arms, can you like not?” The only response he received from Ohm was a slow lick on his neck, goosebumps formed on Bryce’s neck.

“Tasty~ If I do say so myself Brycey, maybe I should eat you out~” Ohm giggled, leading Bryce to be pinned on the wall. His face flushed red from the dirty innuendo, soon feeling the nibbles that Ohm was giving on his neck which caused a few moans to escape.

“Ahh~! Ohm~ What are you do-” Bryce’s words were shaky but it was interrupted by another bite.

“So delicious Brycey~ You know I can’t resist it~” Ohm finished off another love bite. 

oops i spent a lot more time on this than i thought

Chapter 11~ The Cold Chamber

  “Alright, next test!” Stephan marked a rushed check on a chart column that said “vaccination type 1” Putting the clipboard down, he slinked over to the fox holding his arm in an uncomfortable grip with one hand and a Petri dish in another. Ffionn looked nervously at what bestowed upon the bunny’s hand. The Petri dish had what seemed to be tiny specks wiggling about. The fox turned away feeling slightly dizzy as Stephan carefully removed one of the specks placing it in a syringe.

“What is that?” Questioned Ffionn.

“What, this?” Stephan pointed at the syringe he was holding to see the fox nod nervously.

“Vaccinations are better tested when the patient is infected. You’ll be fine however don’t worry-” Ffionn’s stomach twisted in knots.

“I guess it’s not too much of a big deal. Stephan is a doctor after all, or at least proclaims to be.” Thought the fox anxiously in his head. Stephan reached out to grab the fox’s arm as sudden wave of dizziness mixed with chills trickled down his spine. The room began to slightly spin as Stephan’s figure grew fuzzy. Stephan frowned at Ffionn’s dramatic state and snapped at him.

“Do get ahold of yourself I haven’t even injected the serum-” he sneered nastily. Before Ffionn could open his mouth to speak a needle pierced his arm abruptly. Stephan smirked slightly as he watched the small fox cry out.

“That is all, you may be off now-” declared Stephan picking the fox up off the table and placing him on the ground. Ffionn felt a wave of nausea crashing down before him as he stumbled walking up rickety, makeshift stairs to emerge from the secret floor entryway closing it gently behind him. Stephan chucked as a wide grin grew on his face.

“and now; we wait.”

  Night had fallen over Lancashire. All was in an eerie, peaceful state. Dry tears became a crisp on Ffionn’s face as he tightly clutched a tattered, old teddy bear with an eye beginning to become unsewn. He winced in his sleep due to both arms aching horridly. The fox’s ear suddenly twitched as he heard a faint scratching sound down the hall. Too cowardly to get up at first, he dug himself deeper into the flowered quilts. But as the sound got louder, he decided the best thing to do was at least see what the source of it was. He was awfully curious of it as well. Standing up placing his teddy bear aside, he opened the door just to peek. But once he saw who it was, he hesitated no longer to see an old friend.

  “The dear peculiar figure!” Cried Ffionn gleefully running up to it. “Oh how missed your presence, I was gravely concerned for you. You could’ve caught a nasty cold back there guv'nor!” The fox attempted to hug the sticky ink figure before it dodged away.

  “Why, whatever is the matter?“ Gasped the fox appalled. The figure turned slowly staring at Ffionn’s chest. Almost as if it wanted something. It looked hungry as it’s eyes dripped in a salivating manor. Backing off with slight fear, Ffionn tried to make a break for it.

  "Forgive me guv'nor, I-I must be on my way now.” He stuttered meekly taking a few small steps backwards. The figure leaned towards the direction Ffionn was walking back to. At that moment the fox knew he was in trouble.

  “Don’t look at it, just ignore it and it will go away..” The fox told himself turning towards the door. Taking a deep breath, he set one foot out

  And ran.

  Glancing back as he ran towards the door, he saw the figure become disturbingly distorted. It’s face contorted at it snapped towards him hissing. The fox screamed in terror as he felt his body grow cold. Flustered and panicking, he tripped over one of his socks which became loose around his lower thigh. Laying helpless on the ground, he covered his face in fear dreading each second that ticked by. He prepared to meet his fate as he saw the peculiar and distorted figure charge closer.

 The fox awoke to the abrupt shaking of his body and Marinella standing before him with an annoyed look. As he felt tears well in his eyes, he forcefully hugged her close digging his face into the comforting embroidered cotton of her nightgown.

  "What on earth was all the commotion?“ She rasped. Being too flustered to speak, Ffionn only hugged her tighter breathing stiffly. Gently ushering him off, Marinella looked suspiciously at the wall next door.

  "Wait here.” She whispered stalking out the door quietly. After three abrupt knocks the elegant fox fixed the curls on her head as she waited for a response.

  "What-“ sneered the bunny.

  "Ffionn has been acting rather strange lately,” Marinella picked a bit of lint off her nightgown proceeding to flick it in Stephan’s direction rudely. “you wouldn’t happen to know why exactly…would you?” Stephan felt a surge of adrenaline rush through his spine tensing up.

  “Why- of course not!” He declared.

  "Is that so?“ Marinella chuckled. "He’s been spending an awful long time with you on your little ‘play dates’ coming back each time only to spew about nonsense and make believe creatures as ghosts and such.” Leaning in closer narrowing her bronze eyes, she studied the bunny’s face for lies.

  "I…..don’t know what you’re talking about!“ Proclaimed Stephan. "His foolish thoughts are his own. Now goodnight-” The bunny hurriedly tried to shut the door only to grind his teeth in annoyance as Marinella blocked it with her foot.

 "Tell me what’s wrong with Ffionn.“ Growled the fox. Her eye slightly twitched as she grew angrier cursing in her head at the bunny. Stephan chuckled nervously brushing it off once again.

  "Nothing! He’s perfectly fine I assure you~” He insisted so surely. The fox lowered her eyelids with a slight smirk as she slyly replied with a sneer.

  "Hmph, I guess you wouldn’t mind me asking him then.“

  "Wh-” the bunny started. Marinella turned flicking her tail at Stephan quite rudely as she made her way back to Ffionn who had fallen back asleep in the time she was gone.

  "Fi darling,“ cooed the fox nudging him gently. Ffionn startled awake with mucus dried to his nose and tears that became a crisp on his fur. Marinella sighed taking the end of her gown using it as a wash cloth to wipe his face gently.

  "Now,” she started. “I’d like to know what you and Stephan are doing when you’re gone for so long-” Ffionn felt something sinister. As if someone was watching him and everything he said. He had to be careful what he said.

  "W-why do you ask..?“ He questioned meekly.

   "This is a serious issue. Please be honest dear..” Her eyes grew tired only wanting to make sure her younger brother was safe.  

  "I-I…“ Started Ffionn. "Well you see, Steph and I-” something caught the fox’s attention off guard as he saw a blur of gold frantically moving in the corner of his eye towards the door. Looking over he saw Stephan waving his arms to get his attention. Ffionn shook his head in confusion as his brow furrowed. Marinella on the other hand, was busy picking excess lint off of her tail. It was an over obsessive tactic of hers.

  "Steph and I..we….do tests together for his work, a great team we are alright!“ Beamed the fox. Marinella slowly raised a brow before going back to removing lint. Ffionn looked over at Stephan with a gleaming smile for his approval only to see him silently draw his finger across his throat in anger before leaving. Ffionn gulped the fear bubbling up his throat as Marinella gently kissed him goodnight.

  The tired fox was about to shut his eyes, he heard quiet but hastily footsteps entering the room while a dark figure grew to look before him. They smelled of smoke and stale chocolate. Ffionn bit his lip as he hesitantly looked up at the figure.

  "You…nasty…little…mutt-” scoffed Stephan in immense disgust. The fox felt his heart palpitate as a cold drops of adrenaline slithered down his neck.

  "Spoiling our fun,“ He rasped eerily. ”my fun.“ The bunny’s head slowly turned down as his muted emerald eyes gleamed in the moonlight’s glow. He seemed to be shaking as he clenched his fists in anger glaring down at the fox. Ffionn felt his head beginning to spin wanting Stephan to simply go away. He figured if he waited it out long enough he would finally follow through.

   As the minutes disintegrated away  the two sat in an awkward and slightly eerie silence. Stephan’s short and quick breaths broke the silence as the floor creaked beneath his feet from him shaking so violently. Being so angry the bunny couldn’t help grabbing the fox so forcefully, yanking him down the hall. In alarm, Ffionn tried to scream but to no avail as the bunny’s large hands covered his mouth. Stephan stormed down to the lonely room with paintings where all of them were strangely upside down, and slipped into the secret floorboard opening down the steps and into the concrete walled room. Looking for a place to keep the fox, a cold chamber was the best option for the bunny as he violently opened one throwing the fox inside. The fox didn’t have time to call out before he was locked in, for who knows how long. Tears swelled in Ffionn’s eyes as he lay silently in one of the many boxes that smelled of metallic blood and flesh.

  "Steph..? Mari..? Anybody?” Ffionn cried weakly.

  "Please help me…“

anonymous asked:

Your linework is incredible (both on this blog and your nsfw blog)! How do you get such delicate lines? Do you have any tips regarding line and figure relations? How often do you use reference images? (sorry for all the questions, I just really love your art and I'd love to know more about how you create)

Thank you (this ran a bit long because I needed a distraction)!  I like to work at 300pp and small brushes (10-ish pix) to get thin lines.  I like a bit of light texture on the brush too.  I don’t really have a method but things that are closer to the viewer are generally going to have darker, thicker lines and things you want to recede into the background will have lighter, fewer lines.  I like combining light opacity and heavy opacity lines– here’s a small process thing of my sketchy stuff:

Strategically-placed opaque lines add weight and movement to the figure and putting down a flat tone on even my simple sketches help them seem a lot more alive.

I use references almost every time I draw!  Only a sith deals in absolutes but trust me this is the single best thing you can do for your figure drawing skills and it isn’t only for beginners.  But whatever you see me put out is the product of at least a few reference images to help me feel out the pose.  For really precise things like hands I’ll usually just look at my own so I can get exactly what I want.

About figure relations.. I’m bad at explaining this and it’s something that I’ve kind of had to sit and think about why it is, but it seems there’s usually both a yielding figure and an imposing figure.  The yielding figure is softer and allows itself to be moved/squished/distorted by the imposing figure, which is more rigid and acts as a force against or as a support to the yielding.

So when you have characters interacting physically, think about the action and which character/body parts exert more force or act as a support.  Allow the other character to be formed by them.  I hope that made at least some sense!

Egon Schiele: His Palette

With his signature graphic style, embrace of figural distortion, and bold defiance of conventional norms of beauty, Egon Schiele was one of the leading figures of Austrian Expressionism. He was an Austrian painter, a protégé of Gustav Klimt and important figurative painter of the early 20th century. The twisted body shapes and the expressive line that characterize his paintings and drawings mark the artist as one an earliest exponent of Expressionism. In Schiele’s early years, he was strongly influenced by Klimt and Kokoschka but soon evolved into his own characteristic style. He focused on portraits of others as well as himself. In his later years, while he still worked often with nudes, they were done in a more realist fashion. Schiele made many drawings, some of which were extremely erotic. During his short but highly prolific career which ended with his premature death, Schiele created more than three thousand works on paper and approximately 300 paintings.

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okay but what if ghosts look really scary to normal people and we just get the benefit of it all being from Danny’s perspective and his eyes can render ghosts properly but most people just see terrifying distorted hazy figures

(also they should vaguely reflect how they died -  Danny’s skeleton is visible because he was electrocuted in the ghost portal and Vlad is sickly and necrotic from ectoplasm poisoning)

and I can excuse things I think are dumb like Vlad’s cape and hairstyle are just how people interpret vague whitish fog coming off him


B E W A R E  O F  T H E  M A N  W H O  S P E A K S  I N  H A N D S

Once Upon A Dream

Characters - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - None, yet

A/N - This my first ever Bucky fic. We’re in for a ride if I continue this. The reader’s thoughts are in italics.

Summary - The reader wakes up after a tragic accdient in an unfamiliar place with a man she doesn’t know caring for her. She’s having short term memory issues and what she doesn’t know is that he has long term memory problems himself. She also doesn’t know that they’re a lot closer than she thinks. Can these two help each other figure out who they are and will they make it when the past comes into the light?

OUAD Masterlist

Originally posted by wintersthighs

You woke up in excruciating pain. Barely able to move, you groaned in pain as your vision very slowly started to restore itself. You felt so groggy that it made you wonder just how long you’d been asleep.

In the midst of your physical assessment of what damage had been done, you almost didn’t notice the figure that dashed across the room and found itself by your side. The man came into view and you felt yourself starting to panic. He was unfamiliar; with long, dark brown hair, icy blue eyes and a body structure that told you he was nothing less than powerful. He was unreal.

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Partner (p. 4)

parts: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | end

extras: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven

pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

genre: Fluff, Angst

wordcount: 3175

synopsis: You’ve been helping BTS co-produce music for as long as you can remember. Because of that, you’ve spent most of your career working alongside Min Yoongi. On the cusp of achieving a dream you’ve all worked so hard for, another wish is realized along the way.

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El Greco

Cretan-born painter Domenicos Theotocopoulos, better known by his Spanish nickname, El Greco (c.1545-1614), studied under Titian in Venice before settling down in Toldeo. Commissioned by the church and local nobility, El Greco produced dramatic paintings marked by distorted figures and vibrant color contrasted with subtle grays. Though his work was appreciated by his contemporaries, especially intellectuals, it wasn’t until the 20th century that it was widely embraced and admired, influencing in particular the Expressionist movement.

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lifeline + bloodline: the stranger

summary: speculation regarding the stranger that greets taylor at the end of silent night, the distorted figure that borrows the timeless monks’ key in bloodline, and the possible connection between the two and to future games.

significance: mysterious figures knowing arika and taylor’s names during critical moments in their stories? it wouldn’t been too far fetched to believe that this/these figure(s) will be acknowledged or introduced sometime in the future.

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Francis Bacon: Paintings from the 1950s
Albright-Knox Art Gallery, May 4–July 29, 2007

Francis Bacon: Paintings from the 1950s highlighted the decade in which Francis Bacon (British, 1909–1992) experimented with a wide range of complex themes and the haunting images that became his hallmark iconography—screaming heads, popes, caged animals, and distorted and isolated figures. Bacon was known for taking risks, not only in his art, but in his daily life as well. His life in the 1950s was consumed with destructive romantic relationships, gambling in Monte Carlo and Tangier, among other places, and general overindulgence of all kinds. A flamboyant homosexual with an appetite for danger and luxury, Bacon traveled in many social circles of extreme contrast—from a ritzy gathering at a four-star restaurant to gambling parties with vagrants. Experiencing and observing the human condition in its many guises was Bacon’s forte, and he set out to expose the visceral content he envisioned behind social and emotional veils.

Bacon made ambitious strides during the 1950s. His work from this period has a raw sense of immediacy. Provocative and mysterious, it reflects a variable and creative mind unbound by social and artistic conventions. 

Content and images courtesy of the Albright-Knox Art Gallery Digital Assets Collection and Archives, Buffalo, New York. Photographs by Tom Loonan. © 2016 Albright-Knox Art Gallery

so i was thinking (as i sometimes like to do) about the way humour has evolved over the past few years, and how radically different our generation’s humour is to pretty much anything that’s gone before it. so i decided to make a list of trends that i’ve noticed, because i have too much free time, and here it is

  1. The Rise Of The Shitpost. in the past few years, there’s been a huge uptick in “nonsensical” humour - and it’s not the same as the “lol random!!!1! xD tacos” style of humour that populated the internet around the early 2000s. it’s almost dadaist in its utter refusal to make sense. show a baby boomer a blurred picture of a bird in sunglasses on fire with the caption “KISAAAMA” and watch them stare at you blankly. go on. do it. and yet that exact post has over 100k notes on tumblr and has been reposted multiple times on facebook, twitter and instagram. go figure. 
  2. Distortion Of Language. just look at the “doggo” meme (”father pls stop yuo are doing me a frighten”), the “good shit” emoji meme, the mixing up of words in common phrases (”never gift a horse in the mouth”), those posts that use ridiculously complex and ill-fitting words to say mundane things (i.e. that one about coffee that’s like “BEAN ROYALTY! i must have looked like such a rube. such a fool”). it kind of ties into the “nonsensical” thing, except in this case the humour comes about specifically from turning something comprehensible into something incomprehensible.
  3. Fatalistic Humour. y’all know this one. pics of bleach bottles with a straw sticking out the top. jokes about throwing yourself in a ditch and slowly sinking into the mud, or paying somebody to murder you. casual references to therapy, suicide, self-destruction and coping mechanisms. that kinda thing.
  4. “Pure” Humour. this is kind of the opposite of the previous one, weirdly enough. in the past couple of years, there’s been a rise in humour that’s just genuinely sweet and nice. people like bob’s burgers because it’s harmless and cute and centres around a family where everyone genuinely cares about each other and gets along. people like lazytown and steven universe for similar reasons. there are hundreds of facebook pages dedicated to memes about supporting/loving your significant other, or pictures of cute animals cuddling up together
  5. Backlash Against Self-Conscious Humour. on the whole, people no longer like jokes that are obviously jokes. if a joke comes in like “hey! look at me! i’m a joke! aren’t i hilarious?”, people aren’t going to like it. that’s why sitcoms with canned laughter are going out of style, and why movies that make fun of themselves are more popular than movies that try, unironically, to be funny. that’s also why the “lol random” humour died a slow death. at its core, it’s the same as shitposting, but the difference is that shitposting just exists, whereas “random” humour is a deliberate attempt not only to be funny, but to make the op seem unique and special in their “randomness”. there’s a great post about it here

this being said, here are my theories for why this might be:

  1. fatalistic humour most likely stems from the fact that our generation is so fucked (economically, politically, socially, and any other kind of -ally you care to imagine) that we turn to black humour to make ourselves feel better. our current situation has also led to a documented rise in mental illness, which - coupled with growing social awareness of said mental illness - makes jokes like “heres a fun life hack: pay attention to me so i dont feel empty inside” relatable to pretty much everyone
  2. this might also explain the rise of absurdist memes - basically, nothing makes sense any more, and so nor do we. it might also be a form of backlash against the stereotypical view baby boomers have of millennials. developing a style of humour that is incomprehensible to anyone who isn’t a part of the online community functions almost as a way of shutting out people from older generations. of saying, “you think you understand us? you think we’re just empty-headed egomaniacs who like smartphones and emojis? well you’re WRONG”
  3. this is also why people laugh at “moms on facebook” - because they’re in the right place, but not using the correct lingo. essentially, young people on the internet have developed their own language and way of communication that is nigh-impossible to imitate if you’re not part of the online community yourself
  4. and i think that’s actually kinda awesome