#experimenting with colors and i dunno

[sygneth]

I just need them to hug, ok?

late night sketch

[molathesunfish]

assorted lcb art

[0yorixu]

smoleefo

[pigeonclaw]

I haven't felt very motivated to draw lately (what chronic fatigue does to a guy 😔) but I have cracked open my sketchbook a few times. Mostly to doodle TBC.

[renstrapp]

Fresh off the riso~ My queer impressionist piece for Classics But Gay Volume 3 turned out looking GORGEOUS. Cheers to @novaandmali for organizing another fantastic book. If you missed your chance to grab these during the pre-order, keep your eyes peeled for later this year...

Reference piece: Still Life with Asphodels, Henri Matisse (1907)

Digital mock up vs original painting

[theyamjam]

puts him in pretty clothes :o]

[someoddsideblog]

im so silly. go my scarabs (unexpected post)

thanks for looking 🫶 i love you platonically. eat food. drink water. touch grass — if youre able to. take your meds. know that YOU MATTERRRRR!!! you mattress. i chair. <3

oh carp i need to do my artfight references 😓😥😅

[destinywillowleaf]

besides legends arceus causing the whole "oh riley is actually really old (and at one point went by rye)" braincell it also led to other Fun Ideas about ancestry and dealing with who people expect you to be contrasting with who you really are :) especially with marley's japanese name (mai) becoming the english name for her ancestor and thus joining rye in being the stat trainer ancestors who share the same name origin as their present-day descendants/selves :) :) (also they were specifically made a team in the BDSP battle tower which might not mean much but i'm thinking about it now anyway)

[10-59]

posting this in the dead of night bc it isn’t great. if u see it u see it if u don’t u don’t :D

[sabraeal]

NaNoCryMo Day 24

Excerpt:

A frigid wind cut through the tent, rushing through the open flap. Caiyur pulled the fur of his collar up to ward off this witch’s kiss, but it was too little, too late. The slim fingers of her breath slipped under his coat, caressing down the length of his spine. Teeth clamped, he turned, voice so waspish it could sting. “Do you mean to let the whole of winter—?”

The words withered on his lips.

“Maksim Makarovitch speaks true,” the beast said, its great, furred shoulders working beneath its pelt. “And you will most likely die, as you believe advice to be a challenge rather than wisdom.”

“Ah, oblakchik.” Maksim sighed, heaving himself onto the poor excuse the tent possessed for chairs. “It is too early to be taking out our knives.”

Eyes were not visible beneath the thick mad of black fur and white snow, but Caiyur knew they were upon, him, sharp and searching. At least, until the beast turned away. “I do not know what you mean,” it said carefully, as it always did. It had to, to speak around those fangs. “I only speak the truth.”

Maksim leaned a cheek against his fingers, mouth cants with amusement. “Have you considered, that the truth is not always as you see it?”

“The truth cannot be anything by what it is.” Even under all that fur and leather, the beast moved toward the brazier with predatory purpose, sleek and sinuous as a panther with all the menace of a wolf. “But it is only the be expected that a boyar might find argument, even in that.”

[recallback-art]

who up ponderin they orb

[tonariofjananda]

What’s she listening to?

WIP, prolly gonna line and color this in later but I like how this looks so far c:

[protectionsquad24601]

Brandon Sanderson really created a culture based on the blue-eyes/brown-eyes experiment

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

shitty no mouth moon cuz I was tryna test colors

[xblueshin]

got a bunch of messy doodles!

I love drawing in the Lego Monkie Kid style, but I want to also develop a style that's more "mine" I'm still experimenting around what I like best; I'm not 100% sure yet.

I wanted to have 2 styles because:

1. It's fun to experiment around (even though the very first stage of figuring out how to draw a character can be frustrating, lol).

2. Last time I've drawn characters in a radically different style from mine (the sonic characters) for a long while, I went back trying to draw humans again and it sent me into art block immediatly, I felt like I couldn't draw humans anymore and I'm still struggling with it, so I don't want a repeat of that.

I think from here I want to try and add stuff to their designs. For example, on these sketches, I already added the turquoise lines under Wukong's eyes because I LOVE when people draw him with them. I also love the curly hair that resembles his nimbus that some people draw him into. I dunno if I want to implement that because I hardly change character designs too much; it was already hard for me to change Mac's and Wukong's colors for skin and eyes (I still want to slightly change Mac's eyes color, though).

Fun fact: I made the 2 doodles of Wukong looking down while I listening to Monster from Epic: The Musical. I dunno, it just clicked. I've been imagining Wukong singing it, lol.

[foldingfittedsheets]

No one made any distinction to me when I was growing up when a word wasn’t English. Andale was just another way to be told “hurry up,” and I was certain other parents told their kids, “Watch your cabesa,” when getting into the car. I laughed myself sick the first time I saw Dragon Ball Z because a ladies name was Chi Chi and I only knew that meant boobs.

All my moms family was brown and I desperately wished I was too. I wanted beautiful black hair like my mom and dark skin that didn’t burn. I didn’t like when people asked my mother if she was my nanny when they saw us together. I didn’t like that people told me I looked like my dad. They just meant I was pale.

I’d proudly announce to people that I was Mexican and become furious when they gaped or disbelieved me. My dads side has no cultural roots. When questioned my dad shrugs and says, “English maybe? I dunno.” I just wanted to be Mexican growing up. Alas, I’m only a quarter descendant of an immigrant family who vehemently didn’t want to be Mexican.

My great grandmother announced that we were American now, not Mexican. She embraced American culture as much as possible, while never learning English. My nana was put into school and punished anytime she spoke Spanish. She got caught halfway between both languages. Forced to spend her childhood raising her younger siblings she never learned to cook tamales with her mother and her friends.

When she had her own children she didn’t teach them Spanish. She used it to gossip with her own friends about them on the phone and resisted teaching them more than to come running when she shouted “Araña!” to kill a spider for her.

Thus came my mom, with her brown skin and dark hair, adrift from her culture but treated as lesser by her adopted one. My great grandmother would rejoice to see me as her descendant, white, ignorant of Spanish, the perfect American she wanted her family to be.

When I was born my nana shouted, “What’s that red on her?” only to realize it was my hair. She delighted in her palest grandchild, telling me often I was her favorite.

I’m used to the disbelief now when I tell people I’m Mexican. I can laugh and show pictures of my mom. My friend from work joked to me that I’m always coming out of the closet, over and over, because both my minority statuses aren’t as visible as her black skin.

I was recently lamenting this to a white southern friend the same one I cast psychic damage on during a DnD day. “I wish I could feel more connected to my culture, but I’d be such a fraud pretending my life is the same as other Hispanic people.”

“Skin color doesn’t matter,” he announced blithely to the choked outrage of our Indian friend in the kitchen, “You’re just as Mexican!”

I regarded him in astonishment and said, “I think skin color matters a lot. I am Mexican, but I don’t have the same cultural roots or experiences of people who are perceived as Mexican. My family didn’t pass the cultural heritage down. I think a lot of immigrant kids feel this way but it’s different for me.”

He rambled about how I’m just as valid and I quietly disregarded his advice. I could try to reconnect with my roots, but I know I’d just be another white girl pushing into a POC space.

Instead I make tamales by myself, sweating over the steaming corn husks, and I snap at people who make racist jokes about my family to me, feeling safe because my skin is the same color as theirs.