#I actually drew this sketch from memory

[limoncheg]

A little sketch after hard days of studying. It's sad that this script of sbemail 136 got cancelled

[jyang030107]

Stupid 3 year olds

[oblivious-aro]

Did you guys know about line stabilization?

[guess-i-do-art]

We were taking notes on the Great Depression plus its causes during my ELA class and when I saw that all I could think was…

[heyimanowl]

The todd kaufman designs..

[unnamed-atlas]

Remembering a sketch I never finished from highschool of Zeph and EX and desperately wishing I had access to that computer just for the chance to retrieve that file and see that image again

[muddlemore]

THEYRE MAKING AN LPSO REVIVED???????????????????? IM GONNA FREAK OUT

[misaerabl]

𝝑𝑒 Ellie's favorite hobby? Sketching you naked in her journal.

loser ellie who used to not even be able to talk to you, now has entire pages of your body drawn from memory—every curve, every place she’s kissed

she took months to make a move. the kind of girl who’d rehearse a “hey” in the mirror and still forget how to speak when you were actually in front of her. torpe in every sense of the word. fumbled her way through every conversation, flushed red when you leaned in too close, and practically had a meltdown when your hand brushed hers.

but the second you finally kissed her?

game over.

loser ellie turned into the most focused, obsessed, desperate version of herself. like she’d been waiting forever to be let in, and now that she was, she was going to worship you.

the first time you let her touch you—like really touch you—she was quiet. not out of nerves, but out of awe. she studied you like you were something rare. hands careful, eyes wide, breathing shallow. she kissed down your chest and whispered things she didn’t even realize she was saying. said your skin was soft, said your thighs were perfect, said your moans sounded like her favorite song.

you thought it was just heat-of-the-moment talk.

but then you found her journal.

not even hidden. just left cracked open on the edge of her bed while she was in the shower.

page after page of you.

rough sketches, delicate outlines, entire pages shaded with so much detail it made your heart stutter.

your back.

your lips.

your thighs.

the curve of your waist and the slope of your neck.

notes in the margins like: “mole here. drives me crazy.”

“her hips tilt up like this when she’s close.”

“her lashes shake when i kiss here.”

you didn’t say anything when she came back. just smiled and kissed her stupid, because what were you gonna do? tease her for being obsessed with you?

(you kept the sketch where she drew you laid out with nothing but her hoodie on and scrawled, “mine.” right under your thigh. you folded it up and stuck it in your notebook like it was a love letter. loser.)

[callalillywrites]

Allergies and Cuddles

Allergies have been kicking my butt lately. Height of that came a couple days ago when high winds really pushed around a lot of dirt and pollen. All I wanted was a nap and someone to cuddle with. Hence, the creation of this story.

Who better to cuddle up with than two super soldiers?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky) x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Summary: Steve comes home to find you curled up on the couch with Bucky, napping to reduce the affects of your allergies. Fluff and more cuddles ensue in this slice of life piece.

Warnings: Slightly worried Steve and Bucky; (over)protectiveness activated; comforting each other; teasing; established relationship; lots of fluff; Steve POV

A/N: As stated above, this story was wholly inspired and written quite quickly, so any and all mistakes are my own. Just wanted a bit of fluff to make myself feel better and this is what came out of that.

Stucky Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

A too-quiet apartment greeted Steve when he came home that evening.

When he would've called out, his enhanced hearing picked up the faintest of hums. Following it, he soon found himself upon a scene that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bucky lounged across their over-sized sofa with you laying across him, completely dead to the world. If he squinted, Steve could almost imagine the thinnest, cutest line of drool seeping from your slightly parted lips onto Bucky's shirt. One of your arms rested somewhere between yours and Bucky's body, but the one Steve could see had sneaked its way under Bucky's shirt, caging Bucky under you. No doubt you sought the warmth of his skin, something you often did when you weren't feeling well.

While you slept, Bucky had one arm draped protectively across you while the other held one of his favorite books. The book had pages threatening to leave what little binding kept them in the right place, but that never stopped Bucky from picking it up again and again. From the looks of this one, Steve would be searching out a replacement soon enough. Bucky's gaze would drift over to you every other line or so, just because he could.

The TV played some show that you'd gotten into recently, replaying one of the older episodes. The volume turned down low so it wouldn't bother your rest. Knowing you as he did, you probably had it up while you fought to stay awake, leaving Bucky to lower it once you were completely out.

Leaning against the wide opening from the hallway, Steve crossed his arms and just enjoyed the scene before him. If he had his sketchpad, he might've taken up residence in the nearby chair and sketched until he had both of you permanently down on paper, a memory no one could take from any of you. But, he didn't so he settled for mentally drawing this moment to revisit later.

"You gonna keep staring at us, or you actually gonna say something, punk?"

"Admiring the view." Steve pushed off the wall and crept closer, taking care not to disturb your slumber. "How long has she been out?"

Bucky closed his book though his attention focused solely on you for a moment. The arm holding you drew soothing patterns on your back as he mumbled, "About an hour or so. Found her trying to fall asleep at her desk in the office."

Sinking into a squat, Steve dropped a quick kiss on Bucky's forehead before turning his full attention on you. He could make out your red, slightly swollen nose as well as the puffiness that lingered around your eyes. The softest snores left you, telling him that your allergies had truly gotten the best of you.

"Her meds not working?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think she's been keeping up with them like she should. Her bottle's almost full, and it's almost a month old."

Steve's brows drew together. It wasn't a secret that your allergies could get bad, and you were usually on top of taking your medication to keep them from overwhelming you. Plus, you knew they worried about you whenever you weren't feeling up to your usual self.

"She took some before I made her lay down with me." Bucky's voice broke through Steve's thoughts. His own worry peeked through despite usually being the more level-headed of the group when it came to these matters. "Maybe it wouldn't be the worst to take her in and see if there's something a bit stronger out there. Nothing over the counter seems to help her anymore."

"I'll call Dr. Cho." Steve pushed to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "If she can't help, then she'll know who we can talk to."

"Tell her our girl didn't sleep well last night either. She tossed and turned pretty good. I'm that didn't help."

"Or you two can stop worrying and just let me sleep for a little longer," you groused, having been roused by your bladder to hear your boyfriends fretting. "It's the wind. Once it stops blasting away and blowing pollen around, I'll be back to normal."

"Sweetheart," Steve started.

Having had this conversation before, you lifted your head until your gaze could meet his. A steely determination stole over your features that had Steve stopping in his tracks.

"I'm going to be fine," your tone softened as you moved to capture Bucky's eye as well, "I promise."

"One week," Steve vowed.

You nodded, knowing he meant it. One week to get better, or they'd be taking you to the doctor. The last thing they wanted was to lose you when they'd worked so hard to rebuild their lives after having their old ones ripped away from them.

"Now, that's settled," you pushed up from your position against Bucky, "I'm going to the bathroom. Then, we're going to discuss dinner. I'm too gross to be touching food, so I'll let you two roshambo to see who's got kitchen duty tonight."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind you when Bucky turned towards Steve. His expression morphed into one of the softest looks he kept solely for his two loves. "Don't worry about it. It's my turn to cook anyway. Besides, you look like you could use some of her cuddles."

"You sure?" Steve couldn't help asking.

While the day hadn't been bad per se, it hadn't been a great one, either. So many reports had been perched on his desk first thing. All needed his immediate approval before missions could move forward. Sure, that was typically either Fury's or Hill's job, but they'd both gone on some mysterious vacation, leaving him to handle it.

Then, there'd been a small crisis or two where Tony's latest invention had gone a bit awry. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't set Banner off, transforming him into the Hulk. A quick call in to Nat had helped, but it'd taken some time for Hulk to fully retreat and allow Banner the chance to return.

To say Steve was a bit wired would be an understatement.

Bucky tapped his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure. Let her help you."

As if summoned, you stepped out of the bedroom. Your appearance looked a bit more put-together than it had when Steve first arrived home. Hair dampened and your face scrubbed. While your eyes still retained a bit of puffiness, they remained bright and alert as you closed the distance between you and Steve.

A cheeky smile flitted over your features as you asked, "Bucky lose, or did you pull rank on him?"

"He offered actually," Steve huffed, shooting you his best glare.

It had little effect as usual, but that didn't mean he didn't try now and then.

Your fingers slid between his and gently tugged him closer.

He went willingly.

His free hand dropped to your waist when you rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Your gaze roved over his features. A soft frown formed as you murmured, "You're looking a little piqued yourself. Off day?"

"Something like that, sweetheart."

A soft noise escaped you. Your hand tightened around his as you tugged him toward the couch.

"Koala or weighted blanket?"

Steve's entire being sagged at the way you so easily read him. He honestly had no clue what he'd do without you and Bucky in his life, and he really didn't want to find out.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hand out of yours so he could grip you around the waist and lift. Your arms and legs wrapped around him without hesitation, allowing him to do what he wanted most. He dropped onto the couch, his legs stretching out on the floor. His arms snuck around you to hold you as close as he possibly get you while his head sank to your shoulder.

Your fingers inched their way up his neck until they scraped against and through his hair. Soft kisses pressed into his shoulder and neck where you could reach within the cocoon of his arms.

"I'm sorry," you whispered at some point, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I'll do better about taking my allergy meds. It's just been a crazy week, and I hadn't meant to forget. It honestly didn't hit me that I had until the winds kicked up a few days ago. Please, don't worry about me."

Steve tightened his hold. "Always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. That's what you do when it's the people you love."

"Okay, that's a fair point, but I'm still going to do better. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily." You pulled back enough to meet his gaze. In the same cheeky tone as earlier, you added, "How's that?"

"Better," he murmured, shaking his head and huffing with pure affection.

You must've been satisfied because your cheekiness turned impish. "You are quite tense, Captain, and Bucky missed his workout because of me. It seems only fair after dinner that we have a special training session. Get all these kinks worked out and make sure you both stay in top physical form. What do you say?"

As if to further your suggestion, you wiggled in his lap until Steve moved his hands to grip your hips. A groan slipped past his lips when you managed to wriggle once more before he could fully keep you still.

Stealing a quick but searing kiss, Steve's grin grew. "I'd say I hope you've kept up your stretching routine, sweetheart, because it's going to be a long training session tonight. May even last until the early morning before I'm fully relaxed."

"Oh, my poor Captain," you crooned sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "We won't stop until you and Bucky are fully satisfied."

"And what about you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his jaw towards his neck, "I know I'll be properly taken care of in more ways than one tonight. My two super soldiers never let me down."

"Damn right, we don't," Bucky said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Better eat up fast because that special training starts in an hour."

Steve let you scoot out of his lap after claiming one last kiss, patting your butt as you moved towards the kitchen.

You tossed Bucky a salute, saying, "Yes, sir, Sergeant."

Steve's heart had never felt so full as he watched Bucky sweep you up, your giggles spilling out as you traded kisses with him before he sat you like the precious being you were in your spot. All three places had been set while he'd held you with the small candelabra his mother had left him burned brightly with the new candles you'd chosen a few weeks ago.

Home.

He was home.

[colleendoran]

Yeah, I drew that.

Half my life as a comic book creator is explaining that almost all of my training as an artist is pre-internet, pre-Photoshop, and pre-computer.

No, I don't trace all my figure work or backgrounds because almost all creators of my generation had to learn to draw extemporaneously, and it is actually easier and faster for me to just draw off the cuff than it is to dig through a pile of pics to get what I want.

No, this doesn't mean I never use reference and it doesn't mean I haven't ever closely followed reference - or even closely copied a reference photograph.

It means I usually don't have to use reference for things I draw every day, like the human body. But if I had to draw the Taj Mahal, I'd use reference. I mean, I could do a generalization of the Taj Mahal from memory, but I'd need reference to get it right.

No, back in the day artists didn't all use the Camera Obscura, overhead projector, or lightbox. There is the sight size method, the comparative method, and the construction drawing method. I learned all three and have never used a Camera Obscura. I only used overhead projector a few times and hated it. I usually only use a lightbox to transfer sketches to the final art boards.

In classical ateliers, artist candidates are locked in rooms without access to any kind of Camera Obscura-style tools to make sure the artist can draw and paint without reliance on them.

No, this doesn't make me a Luddite and it doesn't mean I don't use computers now, it just means I can draw and paint and write without them, perhaps with a bit more confidence than some who never had to do without.

There are some computer artists who can do without, and some who can't. No judgment.

You do you.

I did without computers because there was no with computers. And that is how I learned.

But I don't appreciate that some out there flat out mislead about drawing methods because, it seems, if they can't do something, clearly other people can't either. Just because an artist used reference on one picture or even a dozen pictures, that doesn't mean every single element of everything they draw was slavishly referenced.

Most comic book creators of my generation did not and do not trace their figure work in Photoshop. Or whatever.

Some do. Most do not.

That's all.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello dear author, hope your day is going well. This is my first time requesting, so please bear with me. I was wondering if you can perhaps write about bob with a reader who likes to paint/draw. It can be like general headcanons or an actual fic where the reader likes to draw him because she likes him but is scared of rejection so she resorts to admiring from afar, until he comes across an opened sketchbook and he can’t help but glance at it and freezes when he sees himself and a whole lot of fluffy cuteness ensues. Sorry if it’s too specific, you can do whatever you want with this. I love your writing and hope you have a nice rest of your day :D

Art was a talent you had honed out when your mind got too loud, you drew or painted things or people that brought you joy or you felt a companionship with, which was why your walls were littlered in skteches of cute puppies and kittens along with drawings of your fellow teammates: John on his phone, Yelena with Fanny and her guinea pig Houdini, Ava phasing through a wall, Alexei and his 'Avengerz' outfit in responce to Sam's copyright claim.

but the one person you seemingly skteched the most was Bob Reynolds, the man you seemingly felt the need to capture every single movement as though you'll never see him read a book, wash the dishes or just do domestic tasks within the Watchtower. He was at peace when doing all these things, his brow wasn't furrowed, his bottom lip wasn't bitten to death, his hands weren't raw from his wringing of them.

you even drew his messy mop of hair as it falls infront of his eyes, his small smiles as he watched the rest of your team squable over who's turn it was for movie night. You even drew his interactions with the stray kittens and alleyway dogs that he often feed and kept hydrated whenever they were at the doorstep of the Watchtower. His heart was kind and knew no end of it either as no matter what Bob was presented with, he was gentle and kind with it.

He was so beautiful that you feared that you could only ever view such a beauty like him from afar, he was a sacred treasure that should be seen but never touched. You couldn't help yourself when you fell for him, he was light and warmth within invinsible but very human skin, he was like a gentle breeze that ruffled your clothes and the tops of trees, the birdsong that woke you up every morning with his sweet voice greeting you as you walked into the kitchen only to see him there with two mugs already prepared.

He had remembered how you took your drink, how you like your sandwhitches cut and which bowl you prefered to eat ceral out of. It seemed as though his mind was a massive memory bank of small things that he had taken notice about everyone and kept it within himself to honour those small thing he noticed about everyone on the team.

so you dedicated an entire sketchbook to him, every single last page was filled to the brim with him falling asleep in his book nook chair, him sat at the very end of the sofa during movie nights, hands on his lap as though he didn't want to intrude on anyone else's personal space amongst many more. Bob was and is your muse who you could never stop drawing and or painting as you felt it would be a dishonour to him for he was the man who should have sketches and stories made about him.

at least you thought so but you were someone that saw through the eyes of an artist and Bob oh so happened to be the apple of your eye. It was as though your heart was telling you to immortalise this man however you could and make him look the most beautiful man in existance, which you thought was impossible inicially as in your eyes Bob was already the most beautiful man you've ever met.

if anything Bob ruined all men for you for they could never compare to a man who only wanted to be more, to be useful in whatever way he could. They could never compare to a man who's smile warmed you immeditely, who's voice brought a sense of calm to your mind and who's presence was enough to reassure you that everything was okay.

The man was made to have art of him drawn even he might not think so, you couldn't confess your feelings to him in fear of putting him in an situation he wasn't ready for, and instead channel your feelings for Bob by drawing him as the man you saw daily; a gentle man who had immense strength that could easily crush anything with ease, yet he chose to be soft with everyone and everything. He would carfeully dog ear his books, put away the plates, cups and bowls with such cautiousness as though he feared the sound of ceraminc would disturb everyone in the tower.

you felt as though you could easily describe Bob within a few sentences or less, yet also feel as though that those very same sentences wouldn't do much justice for the man he actually was, he was everything you wish you could have and everything you knew you might never have as your feelings might not be reciprocated and you didn't want to disctract him when he was getting himself back on track.

so you kept silence and kept your heart drawn out on the pages of your sketchbook when your feelings became stronger, finding the blonde that lingered at the ends of Bob's hair just as beautiful as the rest of him as they glowed like gold in the light. Even when he fiddles with it between his fingers it looked like he was toying with strands of gold, looking at them with indifference and a sence of regret. You wish you could tell him how you saw him, but felt as though you were overstepping a line somehow, so once again you remained silent.

You thought you had concealed your feelings well enough with your drawings, yet when you went out of the room to grab something to eat and drink after realising how long you've went without. Yet what you didn't know was that Bob had come to your room to do just that, having noticed your absense for a good majority of the day and having grown concerned when he remembered just how little you had to eat since this morning.

you both missed each other by at least a millisecond, like two shooting stars with totally different locations to be, barely getting to see one another by anything other then a short lived glance.

By the time Bob got to your room it was clear to him that he had missed you somewhere, but something told him to still go into your room as he gazed at the sketches, drawings and paintings that littered your walls, giving your room life and an insight to your creativity as he admired each one of your works, wishing he could have as much talent as you did.

there were sketches of john, Ava, Alexei, Yelena doing their own thing but what caught Bob's attention the most was the sketchbook that lied upon your bed, open to an unfinshed sketch of...him? Bob didn't mean to pry into your personal belongings but he didn't think he was worth being drawn, being immortalised by your hands and the closer he got to the book, the feeling of becoming breathless worsened within his chest as he got to glimpse at what you saw when you looked at him.

there were sketches of him reading in his book nook, caring for the strays that came to the tower, just Bob doing Bob things but the way you made him seem ehtreal, like there was no possible way that he could exist in a life so shitty. you made him look at peace, at calm and so normal, you made him with the intention of drawing him as just Bob, not sentry nor void but just bob and only bob.

Bob wondered how long you've been drawing him for to know about the whole feeding the strays thing, but the further he looked into the book, the anwser became clearer, you've always known as there were drawings for when after the void inncident months ago, his hair blonde in some parts but mainly his natural brown nonetheless. you made a man like him look like both a god and yet have the manerisms of a simple man, you made him look as though he held all the light in existance within his very being.

You made him look nothing like who he saw himself as, nothing like the person he despised when looking in the mirror every day, you made him look like someone who was proud and happy to get to be alive and to be the embodiment of something he never really thought of himself as. It made Bob wonder if this is truly how you saw him, seeing as he always second guessed himself and lacking confidence in some aspects of life, so seeing someone like you view him the way you did through an artists standpoint as though you couldn’t stop drawing him no matter what he did, as if you would rather waste every single bit of paper drawing him in his baggy sweater and lounge pants a million times over then ever leave it empty.

You’d rather have a filled sketchbook of him then an empty and devoid of life one, always feeling the need to keep reminding yourself that he existed and he was seeing joy the perfect muse for you, seeing as there were more sketches of him then the rest of the team combined and that was enough to have his cheeks flushed and his heart rate a little elevated. Bob might not see himself the way you do just yet but by god he hopes he does because the way you see him makes him feel beautiful, seen and heard in a multitude of ways.

He had read how people wished they were the muse to an artist as it meant being immortalised by them, to be seen in a light that they never could, and Bob didn’t know he needed the same thing until he saw your drawings of him taking care of Fanny and Houdini when Yelena was off on a mission, putting away dishes, bowls and cutlery, or even when he had found himself fighting sleep with the way you’ve captured him teetering between sleep and staying awake. Bob now understood why being seeing as a muse, seen by an artist was something so heavily desired because now he got to be the muse, he got to have what others always wanted and he genuinely didn’t want you to stop even if his emote body felt like it was on fire but in the best way, the only way he ever wanted.

He felt wanted, he felt needed and most of all he felt loved by every single sketch you’ve drew of him.

He alters thought you didn’t like him like that, at least not that he could tell seeing as you were seemingly always drawing whenever he was near, now he knew that wasn’t true. For even if he was just simply standing there you’d draw him with the light shining his body in a way that he would’ve never taken notice to before, you’d draw him with a halo and angel wings for all he cared and still he’d felt like his heart was somehow getting even faster then before as his hands eagerly flipped to the next sketch of him as the dark thoughts within his head dissipated.

If you saw him like this then you must like him, there’s no other explanation to it, but Bob didn’t want to pressure you into confessing nor did he want to admit that he went through your things without permission, yet he couldn’t help the way the sketchbook called to him into having a nosy, into having a look until he was practically absorbing everything the sketchbook had to offer. Bob had a little book of his own that he wrote things in, whether it’d be his thoughts or how his day went or his general views on the likes of Yelena -whom he saw as a surrogate sister- Ava, John and Alexei. Yet when it came to you Bob could write paragraph after paragraph of words and still feel like it wasn’t enough to describe you and how you made him feel.

So looking at your sketches made him realise there was a common ground between the two of you, both indulgence in the art of expression through different mediums, both having a good chunk of a book dedicated to the other as if you’ll die if you stopped, destined to only ever keep the other on your mind and no body else. Bob didn’t think his writing was all that good, most of it was how he felt during that time so there was scribbles and rushed writing that looked unintelligible, almost as if he was on a time limit but in reality he was unable to properly write down or formulate coherent sentences whenever you were the subject. He couldn’t help it and from the looks of your sketchbook you couldn’t help it either.

So when Bob heard that you were heading back to your room, he was quick to put the sketchbook where he found it and leave as quickly as he could in hopes of preventing you from getting skeptical that someone had rummaged through your room, looking through your things like a lovesick puppy wanting to know if his crush felt the same or not. He would find the strength to tell you one day but it was clear that wasn’t today.

When you got back to your room, you knew something was amiss for your sketchbook looked about as though it was hastily put back in place, like whoever or whatever was in here didn’t want you to know about their escapades.

And not only that but one of your sketches of Bob was taken, the sketch where you had drew him when the light from the massive glass windows hit his back, making him take your breath away upon gazing at him never less looking at him fully.

You knew you would soon find out who did it, because you didn’t know what you’d do if you were to find out that it might’ve been bob, even though you highly didn’t think he’d ever do such a thing as he was respectful and didn’t cross any boundaries much as he didn’t want anyone to cross his. You’ll get your answer soon enough, even if it means interrogating the group to find out who had taken your sketch.

Meanwhile Bob in his room was staring at the aforementioned sketch, holding it to his chest as a weight lifted from his chest, glad to know that the person who he liked liked him just as much back, but he knew you’d knew soon enough and come looking but he wasn’t exactly going to hide. No. He wasn’t going to as he was going to wait until you figured it out that it was indeed him who took the sketch and finally get what he’s been wanting to say off of his chest once and for all.

[elwensa]

Little Companion (2021)

This is the second Outer Wilds comic I've ever done. You can see I was still a student back then, since it's in full colour lmao

This comic's inspiration was from a concept art: As I was cruising online for find references for Outer Wilds character, I found a concept art of the Hatchling drawn by artist Sojyoo, who draws them with a little plushie attached to their leg, showing "their approximative age and how they cope in space."

I found this idea quite adorable, and did a little sketch of the Hatchling hugging the plushie... and with time, I thought about telling a little story about it. I thought it was interesting to explore the idea that a teenager has to live through this, and having a childhood memory by their side for reassurance. After all, don't we all feel a little bit of comfort with an old plushie?

Then I thought about Solanum, who is also not quite an adult yet, and I thought that he would appreciate that childish comfort as well...

I absolutely cheated when drawing Solanum's mask. I believe I drew it in 3 different angles by tracing a reference, then copy-pasted it on the various panels. If I were to redo that comic, I would've probably just simplify the mask... but hey, it looks accurate!

Also, that lullaby that Hatchling sings is an actual polish lullaby. I am not good at writing songs, so I was looking for an existing lullaby that talks about stars or space. I found this one on an obscure website, and found a flute version on youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orOmQPHrlp4

A little note on this comic: I technically made an error by making Solanum say that she's happy to see Hatchy "again". I wasn't that strict with the lore compared to now, and I thought that Solanum could remember their previous interactions, which is wrong. It's not a big deal, but also I don't want to modify the original dialogue, because it would feel wrong to me after so long.

[inzuinzudesu]

Please zoom in to see small Kakashi! 😭 He kinda disappeared 😭😭😭

Text translation: "Infinite Tsukuyomi" (無限月読)

Drew these in mid-July - when I started doing digital again actually 🤔

Took inspo from the Balut - a street food in my country; I hear a lot of people are grossed out by it?? Don't know if this is controversial, but I personally love the dish. Essentially grew up with it after all!

Wanted to draw something that feels a bit creepy but still has a sense of mysticality to it???

Meh, don't know if the feeling got across or not

I thought since Halloween is coming up, might as well post this haha

About the process of drawing these!

These were very fun to draw! I messed around a lot with photoshop to achieve this glowy dusty effect?? From the brushes to the blending options, and maaan the filter gallery 😭😭 Such fun tools to play with.

The main brush I used to achieve the dusty effect is called "KYLE Bonus Chunky Charcoal", in the Kyle Dry Media brush set. If you can, I recommend checking it out! There are definitely other ways to achieve this sort of effect, though. You can probably just use some sort of scatter texture brush and it'd work just fine. Studying is all about trying things out, right? This is like my first experiment with this type of effect, and I was happy at the time. Now looking back, these could most definitely turn out better, no? I really went overboard with just the effect and forgot everything else. The blood and the plate looks horrible man. If you look closely, you can see the sketch lines haha! I got lazy!

Also, for Obito's pose, I relied heavily on a reference I found on pinterest 😭 I wish I'd changed the pose more tbh, it looks really boring.

And I gotta say, these just look underwhelming in this smaller size. Like reaaaaaally underwhelming. Would love to show you the big version, but oh well! 😭😭😭

Brain vomit time!

I love the prospect (??? is that the right word) of Obito being all god-like and powerful after Tsukuyomi, having control over everybody's dream worlds?? And like he jumps from dream to dream, but stops at Kakashi's and picks it apart???? Observing and tormenting Kakashi with his childhood form that has both sharingan???????

Kakashi would probably be confused with Obito's appearance at first, asking questions like "What are you up to this time, Obito?", but then wouldn't receive any answers??? Like little man would just stare at him creepily, and Kakashi would push this to the back of his mind for a while???

Umm below is the technical stuff, I guess??

My headcanon is that the time span in the dream world is the same as the real world. Meaning, 30 years in the dream world feel incredibly real, with no gap of memories. It's essentially a different timeline. Whether this makes sense or not, who knows haha!

Let's talk about the dream events and how they affect Kakashi! Due to Sakumo and team Minato still living, this Kakashi probably wouldn't be as lax nor sad as in canon?? The relationships and personalities would be different huh???? I'm having a headache thinking about this, so let's just say that: 1. Sakumo lived because the villagers weren't as harsh, but the animosity still remained. Kakashi still developed this obsession with rules, but he doesn't blame his dad as much. 2. Kannabi happened, Kakashi was given the sharingan, along with Obito's ninja way. Team Minato thought that Obito died for a while, but Obito is 'rescued' by Madara, same as canon. 3. Rin would still be targeted by Madara, but Obito came in time to help with the situation, blocking Kakashi's chidori from connecting with Rin's chest, but also knocking Kakashi away. Then, a Mist enemy took advantage of the situation to attack Kakashi, injuring him gravely, to the point where everybody thought he died. With this, Obito activated his Mangekyou and exploded on the Mist enemies, killing them all. Meanwhile, Rin tried to heal Kakashi, just barely saving him. As Obito had dealt with the enemies, there was no need to rush back to the village, and the Sanbi wouldn't be released till then. And so, they waited for Minato to come and help with Rin's seal. (About Obito's Mangekyou activating with Kakashi's death - would that be too far-fetched? My reasoning is that Obito would think that it was his fault Kakashi died, because it was Obito who knocked Kakashi away into the enemy, no?) 4. Because there's no one to become 'Madara' now that Obito came back to the village, Naruto is born, Minato and Kushina live.

5. The Uchiha massacre doesn't happen.

(Everything is incredibly convenient, because I don't have the brain power to make it otherwise, please help 😭😭) -> In conclusion, this Kakashi resembles the Kakashi of the real world, but less depressed and self-destructive??? He loves his living comrades. My man still has a massive obsession (more like crush lol) with Obito by the way, just like in canon. He just doesn't show it.

-> About Obito of the dream world (I'mma call him Dreambito), he is all sunshine and brightness, but he exhibits some dark thoughts and deep rage from time to time due to the residual effects of Madara's seal on his heart. The seal has been removed though. And he has this obsession with Kakashi's safety, as he almost pushed him to his death once, albeit accidentally.

-> I was debating whether to just start this dream world at the point where Obito got crushed, or to start it at the beginning of Kakashi's life. In the end, I went with the latter, cuz ya know, I like the idea of Kakashi living through a whole life all over again, just to finally come to the realization that it's all a dream. Does that make any sense at all??

Obito (child form - 13) first appears in front of Kakashi at the start of the Naruto series, when Kakashi has officially become the teacher of team 7. (Let's not change this okay, my brain would fry haha I'm not gonna deny that the idea of Obito and Kakashi becoming co-teachers of team 7 isn't incredibly fun though)

After the first encounter with this child Obito, Kakashi begins to have flashes of memories from the real world, and he hallucinates about people's deaths - mostly about the members of team Minato. This young Obito is always in the corner of his vision, most of the time silent, sometimes saying things like "You trash" to Kakashi whenever he encounters Rin, who is whole and grown up in this world.

Kakashi exhibits more destructive behaviors as this goes on, the line between the dream events and the real events slowly blurring. He takes more dangerous solo missions out of the village, and shows strong signs of PTSD, just like in canon.

The two Obitos would contrast each other?? Like Dreambito would be all concerned with Kakashi's decline in health (both mental and physical) and goes to confront and comfort him, many times over because that's how it is with them??? Dreambito might even move in with Kakashi, being the obsessive and protective Uchiha that he is. Meanwhile young Obito would be an absolute asshole, saying all these horrible things to poison Kakashi's mind haha

At this point, Dreambito'd be in the last stage on the journey of becoming Hokage, gaining the all the trust from the Uchiha clan, the village elders and the villagers as a whole. I don't know about Rin, though? Should she be romantically involved with Dreambito or no? Would Kakashi dream that??

I think Kakashi's dream would somewhat focus more on Dreambito being happy and satisfied, to be honest. I know there's Sakumo and team Minato as a whole, but as a degenerate shipper, I love the obsession between them🥺

I don't think Obito would directly interfere with what Kakashi is dreaming about, i.e. changing Dreambito's behavior, or like the political situation of the villages (?). But he would most definitely insert himself in Kakashi's psyche, no? Mess it up real good.

Kakashi would slowly realize that he is living a dream world, after all the flashes of memories that Obito generates in his mind. He would most definitely deny it at first though, I think? And then it would reach a point where Kakashi remembers everything from the real world, but he has also lived through 30 something years of the dream world, meaning he'd be in his 60s?? Does that make sense or no?

And so, while Kakashi now knows that everything is a dream, his feelings for everybody in the dream are real. If that's the case, is it really that important anymore that he escapes the Tsukuyomi? Can this dream world really be called fake at this point? Is there even anything in the real world for him to return to?

What's to say 'the real world' isn't a dream at this point?

-> Kakashi would completely close in on himself after this. He still does things that he would normally do, but it'd be all an act. He would feel completely isolated.

-> Dreambito would notice and confront him again, now that they live in the same house??? Kakashi would like say everything is fine and try to act more convincingly, but Dreambito would still know something's wrong????

-> Obito is observing from afar, who knows what his motivation is at this point.

Because this is Kakashi's dream world, I suppose he would have the power to change this world to his will, now that he's aware? This is like a lucid dream situation???

The people in the dream have their own will up until this point, but Kakashi can somewhat change their behavior if he really wants to, whether it's subconsciously or not??? Example: He can probably will Dreambito to kiss him or something lol

So on and so forth!

Man, I'm having waaay too much fun imagining the pain. There are probably like a thousand things that doesn't make sense haha! I do wonder how this sort of storyline should end though, does anybody have any ideas? Personally, I prefer slow burn with a (sort of) happy ending, but ya know, angst all the way is good too! I can't write, but I love thinking about all the things that could happen 😭😭 English isn't my first language, so this might have felt weird to read at some point haha

If anybody wants to develop this, please feel free to do so! And if you've read this far, thank you for reading this absolute brain vomit of mine! I love to yap, as you can tell haha Have a good day!

[lynnetendo]

some sifs I drew from memory into my sketchpad while I was at a family meetup... i thought it'd be fun to digitalize the more original style ones with a pixel brush and the ones that were more my own artstyle with my usual brush (initial pencil sketch under the cut)

unironically, any notable change you see between the traditional sketch and the digital version only stems from the fact that i had no space on the real paper e.g. the sketches being repositioned or sif's hat not being curled downwards everywhere was because i could actually use the space better digitally lmao

[corvusphobia]

Okay I didn't post actual art for a while because I was too lazy to finish any But there is a lot of sketches there, so welcome to The Sketch Slop Mostly Mouthwash and Ocs (lil bit of limbus here and there) Actual fandom stuff gonna be on top, ocs by the end so people wouldn't be forsed to watch the creatures, enjoy the unfinished concoction of a lazy bastard. Tried to draw Curly from memory today

Drew this before fandom found out that Jimmy actually takes showers

stupid limbus mouthwash joke but with Wildhunt Jimmy

Limbus (Just Ryoshu)

Ocs

[twilightsumu]

how to create a love story | k. akaashi

chapter six: storybook meetcute ✎

synopsis: stalking or the universe setting up the cutest meet cute? you decide.

warnings/genre: smau, modern au, timeskip, fluff, cursing, oikawa being down bad for iwaizumi, akaashi being a little cutie, talks of blunt rotations, and vaping (lol)

a/n: sorry for taking some time away. i started to redo my storyline a bit to better fit the ideas i have in mind! thanks for reading!

akaashi scribbles away in his drawing pad as bokuto and kuroo fight over the last dumpling, like they didn’t order another batch five minutes ago.

“you both do know there’s more coming?” he asks, head still hunched over the page.

he’s drawing a new character today. one that popped into his head while they walked the busy streets to dinner, kuroo and bokuto’s bickering becoming background noise on the blank canvas in his mind.

black shaggy hair. rimmed glasses. semi-hunched shoulders.

if he squints hard enough, he almost thinks it looks like—

“is that a self-portrait?” kuroo breathes down akaashi’s shoulder, trying to get a better look.

akaashi pulls the pad closer on instinct, out of kuroo’s eyeline.

“a self-portrait?” bokuto perks up, leaning over too. “you never do those.”

“so instead of sharing your work…” kuroo starts, a sly grin spreading across his face, akaashi internally groans, already regretting this — “you’re drawing pictures of yourself? for who and what exactly?”

“you drew that yn girl,” bokuto chimes in, way too loud. akaashi almost checks over his shoulder, just to make sure no one who looks like you is around.

“i didn’t draw her,” akaashi rolls his eyes, ears starting to burn. “it just looks like her.”

“so you’re basically drawing characters for what?”

just then, the waitress arrives with a steaming hot plate of dumplings, placing it right in the middle of the table — the edge nearly brushing akaashi’s pad.

the character stares back at him as his friends drop the conversation in favor of fighting with their chopsticks over food.

akaashi glances out the window beside them and questions the same thing: what is he drawing these characters for?

yeah, it’s fun. a stress reliever. he basically lives in manga panels day in and day out — though lately he’s not sure how much relief they’re actually giving him. not when his roommate posts his work for thousands to see and lands him in the middle of a stalking accusation.

he sighs, watching the scene outside unfold — a kid chasing his mom, someone running for a bus, a blonde guy chasing after someone he can’t quite make out. he almost wants to sketch them all. keep them in his pad like little incarnate memories. not just so yn doesn’t think she’s the only one who gets drawn with such precision.

his fingers flip through the pages, ignoring kuroo and bokuto as they go to war over another dumpling. and when he lands on the sketch of you (which, okay, he gets why your roommates think he’s a creep. after checking your twitter, it’s like he plopped you straight from your bedroom onto the page)—

the bell above the restaurant door rings.

akaashi isn’t sure what it is. maybe the universe. maybe the ghost of a fedora-wearing stalker possessing his body. but he turns slightly, just for a peek—

and there, maybe twelve feet away, is… you. the blonde guy from outside stands beside you, menu in hand as you both scan it. akaashi can’t even see your full face — your hair’s in the way — but from the side alone, he knows.

he looks back down at the pad. he doesn’t have to look again. because there you are. staring at him. right there in graphite.

nope. nope. no. no way. did he just conjure you?

and now you’re standing in the same restaurant. with his very loud friends.

akaashi feels every nerve in his body go haywire. stand up. shut down. he isn’t sure. all he knows is: he has to go. now.

especially because this drawing doesn’t even do you justice. it’s embarrassing that people compare it to the real thing.

“aren’t you gonna eat, akaashi?” bokuto asks, and akaashi realizes he’ll make more of a scene if he climbs over the table to strangle him, so he stays put.

“we should go. i’m not really hungry anymore,” he mumbles. and, as if the world is actively working against him, his stomach growls loud. like, speaker-planted-in-his-guts loud.

“we’re not leaving! i didn’t even get my grilled salted—”

“why are you so loud?” akaashi hisses.

the looks bokuto and kuroo give him are almost comical.

“what’s wrong with you?” kuroo hisses back.

“we’re not even being loud!” bokuto throws his arms up, slamming them onto the table.

if akaashi had it in him, he’d commit a crime. right here. in this restaurant. and he’d turn himself in with no hesitation — hell, ask for a life sentence so he wouldn’t have to relive what he knows is coming.

because the universe hates him. and everything he doesn’t want to happen? always happens.

“YN LN!” a worker calls out from the front — exactly twelve feet away.

“yn?” kuroo whispers, like he’s testing your name in his mouth.

akaashi closes his eyes. from the look of recognition slapping bokuto’s face and kuroo’s raised brows. yeah. he knows how this plays out.

their heads turn.

akaashi can only breathe (barely), grip the table, and wish you’re either deaf, blind, or both.

but you’ve got the blonde guy with you. so it doesn’t matter. he’s so screwed.

“YN FROM TWITTER!” bokuto yells, and akaashi lets out a long, tortured groan. “AKAASHI, LOOK,” he shouts, and the addition of his name makes it ten times worse. “IT’S WHO YOU DREW!”

“in the flesh,” kuroo adds, clearly enjoying himself.

akaashi should’ve known that stomach grumble earlier was a warning sign.

“what are you doing here?” a male voice asks. footsteps approach. fast. tense.

“hello!” another voice chirps. soft. warm. like fresh dumplings. and akaashi wants to open his eyes—

“we’re eating dinner. why else would we be here?” kuroo says. akaashi feels a brief flicker of gratitude.

“since when do you guys eat here?” the blonde guy again. accusatory.

“all the time,” bokuto hums, confident. “it’s one of akaashi’s favorite places.”

akaashi almost smiles. almost.

“akaashi, hello,” kuroo snaps his fingers near his face.

“atsumu, it’s a restaurant. not our personal kitchen,” you cut in. “sorry about him. he thought you were standing outside my bedroom to draw me.”

you laugh.

and akaashi exhales.

“wait, are you okay?” your voice sounds closer. soft. gentle. vanilla in the air.

“yes,” akaashi finally opens his eyes.

four pairs stare back — bokuto’s full of knowing, kuroo’s amused, blonde guy’s confused, and yours… curious. kind. too close.

akaashi studies you. the shine in your eyes. the curl near your ear. the way your nose scrunches as you fight a smile.

he feels a little stupid. a little too warm. and also like he doesn’t want to stop looking.

“oh that’s me!” you squeal, spotting the sketch. “let’s compare the drawing to the real deal,” you wiggle your brows and giggle. and god, he kind of wants to giggle too.

he ignores how he actually doesn't mind having you look over him at his work. he almost wants to flip the pages for you so that you could see more.

“why’d you just have her sketch out?” blonde guy asks, cradling the takeout like a newborn.

“it’s a sketchbook. there are others,” kuroo answers easily.

bokuto and kuroo alternate between looking at you and the drawing, pointing out the similarities.

“but why’s hers out now?”

“who cares?” you shrug, eyes still on the sketch. a small smile playing on your lips. akaashi suddenly feels exposed. like he left a piece of himself on the page.

“our friend didn’t stalk your friend,” kuroo says, rolling his eyes.

“why would we come with him to stalk?” bokuto frowns, genuinely confused.

the waitress returns with another platter, and bokuto's eyes immediately trail to the food.

“please ignore him,” you sigh, brushing your hair back. and akaashi realizes — that’s what the sketch is missing. there’s no pencil color that captures the way your hair shifts in the light.

you smile at the table, stepping aside to let the waitress place the plates down.

“i’m yn,” you wave. “guess we should actually introduce ourselves.”

“kuroo,” he says, already halfway through his first bite.

“bokuto,” between chewing and reaching for more.

akaashi stares down at the food, sneaking glances at you. part of him hopes you don’t notice. but a deeper part knows you probably would — if he lets you in.

“um?” you squeak. your foot nearly brushes his.

“fine, i’m atsumu,” he waves dismissively.

“akaashi,” akaashi hums, finally meeting your eyes.

and just then, a headlight cuts through the window, landing on your face. and akaashi wants nothing more than to sketch it, just to keep this version of you forever.

“hello, my stalker who ignores twitter dms,” you tease. your voice light, laughter tucked in the edges.

somehow, it makes akaashi breathe easier. even if he’s the punchline.

“yn, kiyoomi’s gonna kill us if the food’s cold when we get back,” atsumu says. “i don’t wanna get screamed at again.”

“he screams at you daily,” you roll your eyes. “but we should go. let you guys enjoy dinner.”

“you could stay,” bokuto blurts, rice stuck to his chin. “we basically know you already.”

“thanks,” you laugh, warm and easy. “but we’ve got a roommate waiting.”

and akaashi thinks: if only the food came one minute earlier.

“this is our table, by the way,” atsumu huffs as he starts to back away, still cradling the bag of food. “so next time, eat on the other side, you stalkers.”

“god, shut up,” you roll your eyes, already following after him. “it’s only our table because you threw up here that one ti—”

“we’re eating, hello?” kuroo blinks, half-horrified.

you laugh. “right. okay. bye, guys,” you wave, taking a few steps backward so you’re still facing the table.

akaashi watches you go. how could he not?

“bye, akaashi!” you flash him a beaming smile, and he feels like he’s melting into the seat — hopefully not the one atsumu threw up in.

and maybe the universe did drop you into this moment for a reason. because without a single change in his expression — no warning, no cue — it’s like you read his mind.

“don’t worry — that wasn’t his seat,” you call, still grinning as you turn to leave. “it’s mine, actually.”

akaashi blinks.

“bye, yn,” he manages, voice quiet but real.

“are you blushing, akaashi?” bokuto practically yells.

akaashi ignores the observation. finally digs into his food. lets the warmth of it — and maybe something else — seep in.

and as the last trace of your laugh disappears into the city noise, he wonders what it might take to see you again.

maybe… answer your twitter dm?

taglist: @nscuit, @porty, @accidentpronedork, @x3nafix, @vivian-555, @sexylexy12, @luvinazaki, @idontevenknow129, @folksmione, @thatmf-jay, @90s-belladonna, @kurooooow, @akaashislovee, @bows4life, @yimmybread, @stwberri, @ningninjas, @v3nusplanetofluv, @avis-writeshq, @reicyberia, @tojirin, @anngelllla, @legendarycooldragon, @kqavi, @boundbybriar, @shozuken, @corvid007, @sleepystrwbrryy,