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Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
From Second Life inspiration to AI-crafted enchantment — this is my tribute and reinterpretation of a captivating vendor scene originally created by clau.dagger. Reimagined in my style, this artwork blends the opulence of Renaissance elegance with the whimsy of magical street market energy.
Set during golden hour, The Purple Witch stands poised behind her elixir stall, clad in lavish violet robes with gold embroidery, surrounded by glowing potions suspended in midair like starlight captured in glass. Each bottle pulses with swirling energy — elemental flames, prismatic storms, and mystical brews waiting to be discovered. Her calm confidence draws in the eye, an alchemist and enchantress whose very presence stirs the air with arcane allure.
A tribute to feminine power, creativity, and the beauty of reinvention through art and imagination.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
She stands in the heart of a forgotten ruin, wrapped in robes of darkness woven with frost and bone-thread. Her face is unaged and unpitying—skin like moonlight on stone, eyes burning with dual judgment: one cold as starfire, the other molten like a buried oath unfulfilled. Her silver hair glimmers with drifting frost, unmoved by the wind. She speaks no words, for none are needed.
Adorning her chest are twin skull relics, each bound in radiant roots of blackened silver, as though grown from her very heart. The one above glows with cursed flame—the souls of oathbreakers. The one below remains cold and silent, its judgment yet to be passed.
Behind her, the Silent Vowwalkers gather—hooded specters bound to her will, each a soul that once defied destiny and now serves penance in endless procession.
She is not evil. She is not good. She is the weight of promises, made manifest.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
From beneath the kelp-choked ruins, she emerges — sculpted in coral and crowned in thorns. Her gaze pierces the deep, glowing with ancient hunger. Wrapped in abyssal armor, she slithers between the light shafts of a forgotten ocean grave, where life and death spiral in silent worship.
“They called her a goddess once. Before the currents carried screams. Before the reefs bloomed with bone.”
— Codex Abyssus, Page 9, Inked in Leviathan Blood
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
“Sanctified lies collapse under flame.
The Reaper does not come for bodies,
he comes for illusions — and burns them at the root.
This is no desecration.
This is the doctrine's reckoning.”
— Inspired by Pestilence’s "Twisted Truth" (1991)
A cloaked specter stands before shattered altars and burning doctrine, the cathedral behind him glowing like a tomb lit from within. In his skeletal hands, a sacred book ignites — not in desecration, but in liberation. Flames dance upward, casting light on centuries of silence and symbols that once commanded minds. The stained glass shimmers not with holiness, but with warning. Root and ash choke the marble floor, as the last illusion crumbles. This is not death.
It is the unveiling.
Truth was never pure — only twisted.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
From the depths of a lightless cosmos, the Darkstar Empress emerges — a sovereign born from the collapse of dying suns. Her sapphire skin is fractured with obsidian veins, each crack aglow with the molten essence of extinguished stars. Twin horns crown her head, entwined with a gothic diadem that clasps a pulsating crimson gem, its facets holding the echoes of ancient galaxies. Her eyes blaze like solar flares in the void, unblinking, eternal. Armored in blackened steel and adorned with blood-red crystals forged in the hearts of supernovae, she commands the silence between worlds. Embers drift through the air, remnants of realms reduced to ash beneath her reign, as she stands — the eternal flame in a universe of shadows.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Beneath a bruised and boiling sky, the ISV Leviathan cuts through the surge like a blade of judgment. Each wave it breaks is taller than a building; each bolt of violet lightning above carves fractures into the atmosphere of an oceanic world no human was ever meant to chart.
Designed for abyssal incursions on planetary bodies classified as Anomalous-Class Hydrospheres, the Leviathan is more than a vessel — it is a fortress. Its hull is carved from neutron-forged alloy and lined with harmonic shielding to withstand both gravitational pressure and electromagnetic chaos.
Its mission: to descend beneath the black waves of Orthon-6, a drowned exoplanet long abandoned by its native species. But the sea here is not just water — it is memory, current, and malice.
Above, the storm churns unnaturally, its lightning crawling like claws across impossible sky. Below, something ancient stirs. The Leviathan does not turn back.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Virelai Thren was not born — she came into being as the galaxy itself ignited into form. A timeless oracle birthed from the silence between stars, she is the last of the Velossari, an ancient race that once wove starlight into song. Her crown, embedded with living amethyst from the dying moons of Arkeneth, pulses with the echoes of forgotten futures. Each gem holds a vision — each strand of her hair, a thread in the cosmic loom.
Her voice is rarely heard, but when it is, galaxies alter their orbit. Planets tremble not in fear, but in awe. Virelai does not see time as a line, but as a storm — and she stands in its eye, unmoved. Her presence bends reality, and her gaze reveals the truths most civilizations spend millennia denying.
Legends say she sleeps in the Crimson Cloud Belt, her form appearing only when reality itself is near collapse — to choose who among the stars shall be unmade... and who shall ascend.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by a image of: Kitty Von Cat
Soaring through a storm-split sky under a massive, glowing moon, a fearless delivery witch streaks across the night on her enchanted broom. Packages — glowing softly with runes and arcane sigils — dangle from enchanted cords, swaying in the wind like lanterns of fate. Her cloak billows, revealing a “Broomazon” logo on the shirt beneath — a quiet nod to the world’s most mystical courier service. Below, crooked rooftops and gnarled trees wait in silence, lit by scattered lamplight. The wind howls. The job never sleeps.
Done in AI, Finalized in Photoshop
Beneath the golden veil of a dying sun, nestled between sky-piercing mountains and winding rivers, rises Solara Prime—the jewel of a united civilization and the zenith of architectural enlightenment. Forged from obsidian alloys and radiant composites, the city’s spires climb heavenward like the instruments of gods, each tower a harmony of art, science, and sacred geometry.
The skyline shimmers with elegance and purpose. Razor-thin spires stand beside vast hovering platforms, ringed with soft golden light, their forms spinning with magnetic grace. Monumental arcologies twist upward like carved flame, their surfaces etched with glowing veins of bio-electric circuitry. Every structure is alive with intention, humming with unseen power drawn from solar and quantum wells buried beneath the earth.
High above the ground, levitating discs and ships dance through the sky in seamless order—silent, smooth, and gravity-defying. Below, a web of elevated roadways and glowing hoverlanes spiral through lush, green terraces, merging the artificial with the natural in perfect synergy. Mirror-like rivers wind calmly through the city’s heart, reflecting the luminous towers in tranquil ripples.
This is no mere metropolis—it is a manifestation of peace, progress, and planetary wisdom. In Solara Prime, war is but a relic, pollution a myth, and time feels patient. Citizens walk freely across floating causeways and open-sky gardens, their lives interwoven with symbiotic AI and arcane tech.
As the sun kisses the horizon, casting molten light upon the skyline, Solara Prime does not sleep—it pulses with light and memory, the breathing crown of a civilization that dared to build heaven on Earth.
Done in Ai, Finalized In Photoshop
Inspired by a SL Picture from my Friend Freya
Beneath the grandeur of a colossal, emerald-lit timepiece — its golden gears ticking in quiet, eternal rhythm — stands the Keeper of Hours, a figure of poise and mysterious grace. Her deep emerald gown, tailored with sculptural precision, clings like poured silk, flowing into a dramatic train that swirls across the polished brass floor.
Delicate clusters of embroidered florals bloom across the fabric in hues of amethyst, plum, and ivory, as though time itself blossoms from her presence. A regal shoulder structure of petal-like folds frames her porcelain neckline, balanced by a high lace collar that hints at antique nobility. Her fiery auburn hair is styled in an intricate updo, crowned with a subtle tiara that catches the light of the eternal clock behind her.
She is not merely a woman — she is a sentinel of chronology, her gaze timeless, her stance commanding, caught in the exact moment where past and future intertwine.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
She doesn't need a driver.
She doesn't need a reason.
Emerging from the smoke of a burning street, Christine’s blood-red body gleams with the cold perfection of obsession. Her blackened windows conceal whatever force guides her, a void behind the glass that stares back at you. Flames crackle in the wreckage she's left behind, while a lightning storm carves fury into the sky. Her headlights blaze like eyes wide with wrath — not just alive, but hungry.
No engine should sound like this.
No machine should feel this personal.
But Christine isn’t a machine anymore.
She’s an executioner with a V8 heart.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X.
Based on Masters of the Universe.
He came from the ash winds beyond the stars — wrapped in shadow, crowned by silence.
Before the mouth of Skull Mountain, he stands motionless, cloaked in a black hood and armor etched with the language of extinction. His skeletal face is hidden in shadow, but his eyes burn through the void like twin curses yet to be spoken. Behind him, the ruins of a dead empire crumble into dust, watched only by the ghosts that still bow to his name.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Fanart
In the decaying ruins of a fallen metropolis, Harley Quinn rises as the chaotic queen of survival. Her signature cotton-candy pigtails whip through the scorched wind, soaked in smoke and rebellion. Dressed in a torn patchwork of punk and combat gear, she commands the wasteland with a bloodstained bat and a gaze that dares anyone to challenge her reign. Neon embers dance around her boots as skulls crunch beneath her step — this isn’t just Harley gone rogue… this is Harley reborn in fire. In a world ruled by madness, she doesn’t just survive — she owns it.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photshop and Photoscape X.
Above the world, where the sky burns with eternal day, rises the Empyrean Bastion — seat of the Luminarch Covenant and anchor of divine law. This is no mere city, but a citadel of judgment, untouched by shadow, where the Choirs of Light still sing of order and purity.
Here, in towers carved from golden flame and alabaster truth, Archons watch the horizon — waiting for the silence of Tenebris Dei to move.
What you see is not fantasy. It is doctrine, sculpted into light."_
— From the Mythos of Tenebris Dei
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Within the shadowed silence of an ancient forest, she stands cloaked in midnight and mystery — her glowing violet eyes burning with forbidden knowledge. Cradled in her hand is a radiant, living gem: the Void Star — a relic of unimaginable power, pulsing with cosmic energy and ancient purpose.
Arcane light spills from the gem, casting violet fire across her face and fingertips, illuminating the runes etched in her armor and the glint of stardust on her lips. Her presence is both divine and dangerous — a sorceress not born of this world, but awakened by it.
Every breath she takes draws the fabric of reality closer to unraveling.
She is not casting a spell.
She is becoming one.
Inspired by:
Finalizing FebRovery (in some parts of the worlds it still is) with a little bit of sillyness. Action shot with some green giant Mars cattle hopefully to follow somewhen in the next weeks...
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Bathed in the golden glow of ethereal embers, Seraphira stands regal and serene—a vision of fiery elegance and divine beauty. Adorned in an opulent black and gold ensemble with intricate embroidery, her presence radiates both power and grace. Her floral crown and traditional jewelry whisper of ancient royalty, while the swirling embers around her evoke the rise of a phoenix from ashes. This fantasy-inspired portrait captures a moment where myth and majesty intertwine, telling the tale of a queen born of flame and fate.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Bathed in the glow of a moon larger than worlds, Yggdrasil, the World Tree, stands as the divine axis of all existence — its roots anchoring ancient realms, its branches cradling fate itself. Carved with glowing runes of primal power, the tree stretches beyond mountains and time, framed by an aurora of galactic light and nebular flame.
From beneath its radiant base, a lone traveler on horseback approaches, drawn by the path of molten gold that winds like a river of destiny. Ethereal leaves shimmer in blue crystal light, while each glowing rune suspended in its limbs marks a realm it sustains — Midgard, Asgard, Niflheim, and beyond. Mist drifts like memory among black mountain peaks, and the silence is thick with eternity.
This is the beating heart of Norse cosmology — not just a tree, but a bridge between gods and mortals, life and death, time and the void.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
From the heart of a scorched and shattered world, the Infernum rises—an ancient demonic titan forged in obsidian and fire. Veins of molten energy course beneath his blackened skin, each pulse igniting cracks of glowing lava across his massive form. Towering wings stretch through smoke and lightning, and twin horns blaze with infernal light. With eyes like burning coals and claws forged in agony, he strides across a volcanic wasteland, summoning chaos with every step. The skies churn in violet stormlight, as if the heavens themselves recoil from his return. A harbinger of annihilation—born from flame, crowned in darkness.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop. This is what i made after a brainstorm session with AI in the form of GTP
📜 Lore of Miss Forget-Me-Not: The Silence Between Names
Origin Myth:
No one remembers her real name. That is the first rule.
The oldest stories say she was once a mortal woman who begged the gods not to let the memory of her lost love fade. In mercy—or cruelty—they granted her wish: to never be forgotten. But the spell twisted. It was not her who would remember others. It was others who would remember her… long after they had forgotten everyone else.
She became a living monument to fading memory.
Nature & Behavior:
Miss Forget-Me-Not is not a ghost. She is a memory that has turned to stone, a living gravestone, preserved not in grief, but in silence. She never moves, but appears in places where memory falters — forgotten bedrooms, cleared hospital rooms, old boxes in dusty attics. Her presence signals that something or someone is about to vanish from a person’s life… or already has.
Her eyes remain closed, not out of blindness, but reverence. She holds your memories for you, even after you’ve abandoned them. She never forces herself to be remembered — she simply waits.
Floral Symbolism:
The forget-me-not blooms from the cracks in her skin — not as decoration, but as living remnants of people who were once cherished and are now gone. Each flower is someone’s name. Someone’s face. Someone’s voice. Someone you swore you’d never forget.
She doesn’t mourn. She gardens.
Legends Say:
Her tears once flowed freely, but over centuries they slowed, thickened, and turned to roots.
Touching her skin with bare fingers can return a memory… but at the cost of another.
No one has ever seen her open her eyes. Some believe if she does, the person she's tied to will be lost forever.
Modern Sightings:
Some believe she appears in the background of fading digital photos — just a blur of pale skin and blue flowers. Others claim they saw her once in a dream and woke unable to recall their childhood pet, or the voice of their mother.
Those who paint her often forget why they started.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
"It does not show what is.
It shows what still might be — and what never should have been.
Housed beneath the Throne of Ash and Grace, the Black Mirror is no reflection. It is a wound in reality. It does not remember. It reveals.
The room around it shifts with presence. The air hums with unmade choices. And if you stare too long, something may stare back… wearing your face.
Nyxariel has not stood before it in centuries.
She no longer casts a reflection."_
— From the Margin Notes of a Silent Archivist
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
Velastra Thorneveil, crowned by bloodlines and battle, stands as the last empress of a forgotten highland realm — a warrior draped in black and violet, her gaze as piercing as the winter winds. Carved armor etched with ancient sigils guards her heart, yet none shield against the vengeance in her sapphire eyes. A crown of obsidian gems burns on her brow, echoing the twilight fire in her soul. Behind her, the ruins of empires smolder; ahead, destiny bends.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and reimagined
"Sweetness draped in shadows."
In the heart of a shattered gothic cathedral, where stained glass bleeds crimson and violet light, a tiny feline sentinel watches. Her eyes burn with otherworldly glow, reflecting both hunger and mischief. At her side lies a skull carved with runes of the damned, yet it is the cupcake that claims her desire. Icing drips like forbidden nectar across black marble floors, a temptation sweeter than chaos itself. Both adorable and ominous, this creature blurs the line between nightmare and indulgence — reminding us that in even the darkest worlds, sweetness finds a way to survive.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Birthed in the molten depths beneath an endless jungle canopy, Ka’Reth is a legendary apex predator—neither beast nor god, but something far more ancient. Its obsidian-scaled flesh glistens with heat-slick venom, glowing where the blood-fire beneath seeps to the surface. Each breath crackles with the ambient heat of tectonic fury, and its eyes—molten gold and unblinking—see through prey, lies, and even fate.
No empire tames it. No blade cuts it. The jungle sings its name in fear.
Happy New Year everyone!
Long overdue, I finally managed to finalize my Prussian electric demonstrator units over Christmas.
Originally planned for 2014 to celebrate their 100th birthday, my electric slugs finally took more than two years to build in LEGO. I kept modifying them over and over again - the hood, the running gear, and especially wheel and driveshaft houses. I think I have reached a point now where they're mature enough for sharing.
Shown above is a model of the Prussian electric slug EB1 close-coupled to its control car. Both are unpowered, but the slug's headlights are equipped with PF LEDs.
Here's some background story on the prototypes and the concept in general:
Back in 1914, the Prussian state railroad administration strived to replace steam traction on the commuter trains of Germany's rapidly growing capital city, Berlin. One requirement was to re-use the existing stock of standard 3-axle coaches, which lead to a traction concept of electric slugs semi-permantely coupled to control cars (modified coaches with one compartment replaced by a control stand and equipped with pantographs for 15kV AC feeding).
A typical so-called "half-train" (Halbzug in German) would consist of such a slug and its control car, followed by four coaches, and a second control car at the remote end for bi-directional operation. Two of those half-trains could be merged to form a full-train (Vollzug), with a third slug at the trains's center as optional helper.
In order to provide a full train for testing, three demonstrator units were ordered in 1914: EB1 through EB3, with EB3 delivered one year after his two cousins and designed as a semi-autonomous helper unit carrying its own pantograph. To speed up delivery, the running gears of the slugs were taken one-to-one from EG511-class (later DR E71) locomotives in production at that time.
Testing started in 1914, but the turmoils of World War One, rapid technical progress, and superior competing designs lead to the concept being abandoned by 1920. All three demonstrator units were scrapped, with their running gears re-used as spare parts for E71's.
Finally, here's a couple of pictures showing the demonstrator units and the train arrangement. I had to dive deep into offline sources during my research for this project and got a lot of mission critical insights from a fellow German scale modeler and train expert, so if you have any questions regarding this short but rather unique chapter of electric traction history in Germany feel free to ask and I'll do my best to answer them.
Photo captured alongside U.S. Highway 12 via Minolta MC Tele Rokkor-X 300mm F/4.5 lens. City of Pomeroy. Dissected Loess Uplands section within the Columbia Plateau Region. Garfield County, Washington. Early August 2020.
Exposure Time: 1/500 sec. * ISO Speed: ISO-100 * Aperture: F/8 * Bracketing: None * Film Plug-In: Agfa Scala 200
--[ASTUT Security Drone]--
*Do not engage Harpy unit without security key card
*Unauthorized activity will be prevented by Harpys
*If personnel are incorrectly apprehended, allow Harpy to escort to security room
*Resistance will be met with increased force, complete compliance is required
Redo of that model from just a week or two ago. Finalized some details and made it more stable, and gave it a much better head.
Following his capture on Jakku, Poe Dameron is brought on-board the Resurgent-class Battlecruiser Finalizer for interrogation. Kylo Ren eventually learns where the map is (with BB-8, and still on Jakku). Meanwhile, Stormtrooper FN-2187, who was so affected by the death of his comrade at Tuanal, decides to defect from the First Order and rescues Poe so that he can pilot the escape craft.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
“Where once oaths were made, and now only echoes remain.”
What remains of ancient tombs, forgotten keeps, and broken villages lies scattered across a scarred plain — fractured ruins crowned with ash, bound in threadless silence. Once sacred, now hollow.
At the center rises a massive broken arch, split by veins of red unraveling light. It is said the Vorenth gather here — not to build, not to destroy, but to unmake. This land no longer remembers its name. Only what was lost.
At a meeting with Supreme Leader Snoke and General Hux on Starkiller Base, Kylo Ren learns that the map to Luke Skywalker is in the hand of his father, Han Solo. Ren swears that his father means nothing to him, but later, in his quarters on the Finalizer, he asks his grandfather, Darth Vader, for guidance. He is feeling the pull towards the light side of the Force again and needs strength to overcome it.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
From the edge of realms where light dies and magic devours itself, rises Velarix — Firstborn of the Amethyst Crucible, Queen of the Ninth Pyre. Her armor is wrought from violet wyrmscale and voidglass, barbed and plated in ever-shifting prismatic hues, as if the cosmos themselves coalesced around her flesh.
A radiant dragonstone core glows at her chest, thrumming with pulsar-born energy — the last shard of a fallen star dragon’s heart. Her crown, fused with her helm, erupts into jagged, symmetrical horns — part flame, part obsidian. From behind her, vast wings unfurl like veils of dying nebulae, casting shadow and ultraviolet light across all who dare meet her gaze.
Her eyes are starlight weaponized: not windows to her soul, but warnings of a fury few have survived. She speaks in silence. She commands without breath. And when her power stirs, entire timelines fracture in her wake.
So here's my finalized GLaDOS... sort of. The base for now is just a placeholder until I can make a mor aesthetically pleasing one. Overall, I'm half pleased with the result. There were a few details that I hat to leave out, and I also had to scrap my original idea of having it support itself, but when it became to cluttered, I opted for it hanging by a string instead. The cables were especially hard to get right, and they are even harder to keep in the positions that they're in. But still, I am glad for the opportunity to finally have used that curved/segmented technique which can be seen on the large white plates of armor attached to her back.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Bathed in golden light and suspended in morning stillness, Elyr is more than an angel—he is the first breath of hope at the edge of night. With radiant wings woven of sunlight and a starburst glowing at the center of his chest, Elyr drifts above fields of dawnlit flowers, untouched by time.
He carries no weapon, speaks no command, and yet his presence halts war, soothes grief, and gently unravels memory. Around him, birds freeze mid-flight, petals hold still in the air, and sorrow forgets its name.
Some say he’s a celestial messenger. Others, a lost god reborn.
But all who see him… smile, weep, and forget how old they are.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Amidst the ruins of a once-sacred temple, surrounded by golden fire and drifting ash, stands Solvairin—a celestial arbiter of light, memory, and judgment. His face bears the elegance of elven ancestry, yet his presence is far beyond mortal blood. His form is carved of starglass and sacred flame, his eyes glowing with the essence of ancient truth.
He holds a burning lantern, within which falsehood cannot survive. Above his head spins a radiant halo of runes, echoing lost languages of divine law. He does not speak with words—but with presence, with radiance, with silence that strips away illusion.
Preparing for a foal show!
This is a picture I took this morning while I finalized plans for the foal show on Sunday with the CHBC, or the Campion horse breed club. It's exciting as someone who just produced their first foal crop to be able to share them with you all, and I'm so glad and lucky that you all enjoy them as much as I do.
But I regret to say I haven't introduced you to these foals yet, or their mothers! Or Dad, but he'll come in a later post I promise.
From left to right we have
BW AINT NO SUNSHINE #048
[ foal ] BW HAUSOFRISINGSUN #061
[ foal ] BW GOODMORNING USA #062
BW BYBYMSAMERICANPIE #052
They were gorgeous this morning, running as a group like they do in the pasture while I took some calls. I managed to slip this photo as they were all trotting past, though there were lots more that I could have used as well. It's magical, the sound of these horses in any environment. But I think the point is more proven when they're on sound in an arena alone in the early morning, the heavy steps and the constant chatter between them are heart-warming.
I could say the same for any encounter with them though, I know for a fact this experience of raising my first foals ever has been a challenge but so rewarding. But the warmth I feel watching the babies be confident and happy is enough to make it all worth it, to make the sleepless nights and early mornings a good thing instead of an inevitable toll.
The one shock from this morning I should say was just how fast the two foals got, they're very new to the world but #062 especially shows promise of being the fastest foal I have ever heard of. He eclipsed his mother #052 several times when I brought them into the ring, this kind of childish tenacity might make him a good jumper in the future. He has big movement and a naturally large stride that's ideal, especially in the hunter ring from what my friend andi Jo said.
But that may just be a trick of my eye, #061 is a very good mover as well, and despite her loud markings is already so solid in temperament that it wouldn't surprise me if she makes a good western horse or trail horse one day.
I'm excited about the foal show, I'm excited for the future of this breed, and more so I'm excited for more times like this, hopefully with more people able to experience the joy that these horses bring.
Hope to see you all there at 12 pm SLT on Sunday at the Evergarden indoor, I know I'll be there!
signed off,
Crowe x
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
n the dying glow of a blood-red sun, she rises — a dark siren of summer, where heat and shadow intertwine. Wrapped in black lace and leather, with crimson lenses and a crown of firelight, she rules this gothic shoreline where candles flicker in ruins and bats trace dusk’s last breath. Every rose left to wither on the sand is a whisper of rebellion, every glance from behind her shades — a spell. This is not a season. It’s a statement. It’s Hot Goth Summer.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
She descended not from the heavens, but from the silence between stars.
Beneath a fractured dome, where cold moonlight spills like divine judgment onto ancient stone, she stands — obsidian armor gleaming, gold etched like veins of fire across her form. Smoke coils at her feet. The shattered crypt holds its breath.
Her horns curve like the crowns of fallen gods, her gaze unmoved, eternal. She is no queen of men.
She is the sovereign of ruin — born not to rule the living, but to command what comes after.
Finn, Rey and BB-8 manage to evade their First Order pursuers on Jakku and make their escape from the planet. An unfortunate First Order Officer is tasked with delivering the news to Kylo Ren onboard the Finalizer. Ren is enraged upon hearing that the defector FN-2187 helped the droid escape, and destroys a nearby computer console. When he hears about Rey, he pulls the officer towards him with the Force and demands to know more about the girl.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
“Where new beginnings bloom, and silence remembers the first breath of spring.”
Hidden deep within Virelya’s wild heart, the Dawnbreath Glade is a sacred sanctuary untouched by sorrow or decay. Petal-laden trees stretch toward the light of eternal morning, their blossoms glowing in soft pastels as golden pollen-lanterns float in still air.
Here, memory is planted like seed. The moss-covered paths and crystal-clear pools shimmer with ancient magic — not cast, but grown. No voices disturb the hush. Only blooming.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
"We were not built to remember. But we do."
Standing amidst the bones of a decayed city, the synthetic identified only as Model VIX-3.4 watches the winds erode what once thrived. Its copper-toned chassis bears the scars of both time and intent — dents from battles long lost, rust from skies turned toxic.
Twin cobalt-blue optics burn like ancient starlight through the dim. Inside, beneath the carbon-fiber muscle and woven cabling, pulses a thought that was never programmed: regret.
Was it the architect of the fall? A silent witness? Or the last remnant of a civilization’s better instinct?
Its lips do not move. But its presence speaks:
“What you called machines... we called brothers.”
🔻 Relic Sentinel Class | Autonomous Memory Retention Node | Code: Echo-3
AI-generated via Mystic 2.5 Flexible. A look into the soul of rusted remembrance.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
Inspired by and Reimagined
Emerging from swirling violet clouds like an omen, the wraith’s skull-like mask gleams with ancient gold, inscribed with lost tongues and cursed rites. Its hollow eyes burn with arcane light, staring from beyond the veil. Smoke coils around the gilded crown like living tendrils, revealing and hiding the face in a hypnotic rhythm, as if the entity breathes with the smoke itself. Once a monarch, now a spectral force, this crowned figure rules not with words—but with presence alone. The air shudders with every pulse of the shrouded throne’s breath.
Finalized a Limited edition variant. Hopefully getting this out tomorrow or Monday. Had a helluva busy month IRL - so it's taken me this long to get to it. Sorry for the delay. (Going to keep old limited editions up temporarily til this is out so you can get a full set if you missed it the last round)
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