Kinda like these reds too.
Not only did the arm snap off, I hadn’t noticed that the face didn’t even print correctly until I reached it, so a quick segue into something else entirely. Let’s keep the purple theme and see if I can ultimately get this to read as metallic.
Well that’s less than ideal. Just starting on the non-metallics and he tried to run away. Now showing one of the real downsides of resin prints - on contact with soft carpet from maybe a one metre drop, ‘his arm’s off’. Half tempted to bodge an oversize Ork power claw on there.
Huh, turns out I’m genuinely not painting Skeletor. I remember him as purple with yellow accents, when he is, of course, blue with purple. Is it possible I just have a weird obsession with yellow boots now?
From one meme to another, definitely not painting Skeletor for an attempt at this month’s Fedipaint.
The absurdity continues.
Eldest.
… ?
A braver painter would just straight up Bombadil this guy.
It’s basically Orktober, right? The season arrives earlier and earlier…
I realise ‘unnecessary frilly bib’ may not immediately scream grimdark, but it definitely feels like a Blanche-ism…
Annoyingly, the thing I like most in this WIP shot is the texture palette 😅
Just the zenithal prime in place here before I intended to start a base coat of contrast red, but this looks so good I’m tempted to go for an old-school pre-‘bone shaded’ Deathwing experiment.
Slowly trying to add some colour and texture differentiation. I want to push towards a dirty, patinaed gold for the metal.
Currently trying to grok non-metallic metal. Baffled by how well it seems to be going.
“His eyes seemed to root back under all the bulk of that forehead, too thick, too jammy, all full of resistive meats and fluids; exhausting to cut into sections, should such a thing come up.”
I think I may have the turkey sweats.
You rouse yourself. You limber up, as best you are able, bouncing and jiggling yourself in place, still supine, still sore. You walk yourself using shoulders and back so that you move in a little pinwheel, reorienting yourself within the nook. It is tiring and hideous but not unmanageable. You wheel yourself to your left, to your right then back again, as fast as you can manage, enjoying the sense of motion …
You wonder what you might become yourself given sufficient time, enboxed here upon your back, in darkness except for a crack—still visible—at the other short-end of the room. Some floor-oriented shape; some human matting. Perhaps, bamboolike, you will find yourself slowly shooting towards it; your legs extending outwards with rhubarb-forcing cracks, or with new shoots forming, budding out of the heel and soles of your husk …
You can recall only two members of that dialogue, bulb-lit or otherwise. It was the only one you had with that group of people, you are sure of it—some of these sureties are intuitions as much as memory—as though you are sometimes able to see a counter or tag associated with a given event in your internal catalogue which shows at a glance its number or relevance, regardless of the content recalled. Memory metadata. It is not an outcome of repetition; this was a single occurrence more clearly intuited than those with many. The thin lady and the one with a hat: the combination of impressions associated with them are significant enough to unconsciously mesh with your own sawtoothed internals …
Accidentally or otherwise, your memories are primarily nonsense. Nonsense or embarrassments or otherwise essentially degrading. Perhaps you have spent so much time in worthless activity that these are the only things to have seeped through, your memory rendered ineffectual through sheer saturation of moments you would not wish ever to recall, now so fundamental to general information storage or the fitting together of detail with detail that without them you would have no past at all …
The only memories you are able to invoke—which are invoked regardless of your intent—are broad and flat and saggy. Your behaviour and your circumstances are recalled, but never the mood. Detached from any actual experience of the time, they are at most re-imagined with the temperament that you bring to them now …