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Guys wtf are these adds

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Old Astro boy stickers on my childhood dresser 🌱🍙

Been to my grandparents house today

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How to cover your cucumbers 🥒🥒 - art tutorial

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Hey @deepestobservationexpert having fun scamming artist???

Not this time.

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I love christian lore

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suddenly I drew the most perfect hands of my life wtf

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this is a more human form - thought I think I'll make theis eyes more stupid looking and exagerate some features in my next concept.

Chainsaw man - YAOI DEVIL - picture under the cut!!!

DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS

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aki hayakawa

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Chainsaw man - YAOI DEVIL - picture under the cut!!!

DO NOT ASK QUESTIONS

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Last hour..

Short animation I did during my free time

some progress + first sketch

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Some of my favorite dialogues from animal crossing 🌈

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werewolf whump [stories]

summary: a man who lives on a isolated mountain rescues a sick werewolf he found wandering near his cabin.

The wind howled across the snow-covered peaks, biting through the layers of fur and wool that wrapped around Andrea's body. He trudged through the deep powder, the weight of his catch—the day's solitary prize—a string of fish that seemed almost too light in comparison to the heaviness of the mountain air. The sun had dipped behind the jagged horizon hours ago, leaving only the faint glow of twilight to guide him back to the small cabin nestled between the towering pines. Despite the cold that gnawed at his bones, there was comfort in the isolation of his home on the mountain. It had been years since he'd seen another soul, and the quiet was something he treasured.

But as he neared the clearing that marked the edge of his property, something shifted in the air. The usual stillness felt… wrong. His eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure near the edge of the trees—a hunched silhouette stumbling through the snow, too large to be a deer or any creature he knew. As Andreas approached cautiously, he saw it more clearly: a beast, its fur matted and dirty, the eyes seemed lost and gleamed feverishly in the dim light. It was sick, sick in a way that unsettled him more than he could understand. And it wasn’t just any creature. There, in the depths of its feral gaze, Andreas recognized the unmistakable signs of a werewolf.

The man hesitated for a second, the wolf might hear his steps, sense his approach. Even sick, a creature such as this can still pose a threat, and a significant one at that... Andreas lowered his body, crouching as much as he could, trying to make himself look smaller and stepped further. He quickly glanced at the werewolf almost as if asking for approval. The werewolf, however didn't seem to bother at, simply stumbling back and forth a few times. The poor thing looks completely out of it as it tries to keep it's eyes from closing. Andreas keeps moving forward. As he gets closer, he sees the werewolf moving his lips in a pattern, almost as if reciting something. It's stumbles seem to also be part of a pattern, or at least an attempted one. It looks it's trying to walk towards the cabin, but the snow covering the ground is too thick and the lack of proper equipment can't help it. In fact the wolf is barely wearing anything, the few coverings it has on are nothing but thin layers of rags. The wolf trembles violently underneath them.

From this distance, Andreas can finally piece together the puzzle in front of him. The man is eager to rush to the wolf's rescue, but... He may startle it... Perhaps a more distant approach...

Andreas heart pounded in his chest as he took a cautious step forward.

“Hey!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the snow. “What are you doing here?”

His words echoed off the trees, but the creature didn’t react, its sickly gaze still fixed somewhere distant. A knot of worry twisted in his gut—He had heard stories, folk tales about the "wolf man", as well as personal accounts from those who have seen them... this wasn’t the way a werewolf usually behaved. They were predators, wild and untamed, not... this. He took another step, louder this time, his voice rougher.

“I said, what’s wrong with you? Get away from my cabin!”

The beast didn’t flinch. It was as though it couldn’t hear him at all, or worse—it simply didn’t care. Its heavy, labored breathing filled the air, but there was no movement, no aggression, just an eerie stillness that unnerved him more than anything. Arvid’s gaze flicked to the snow around the creature’s feet, noticing the tracks that were faintly smudged in the drifts. It had been dragging itself here, struggling. Something was terribly wrong with it. In the fading light, Arvid could only see the outline of its fur matted with dirt and blood. He swallowed hard, torn between fear and an odd, growing sense of pity for the beast. Whatever had happened to it, this was no longer the monster he’d been raised to fear.

Before Andreas could yell yet again to the creature's seemly deaf ears, the wolf fell to the ground. Collapsing without any warning. The man rushed towards it, glancing around, looking for a reason, an explanation... Anything!

its massive body crumpling into the snow with a low, strained groan. Panic surged through him, overriding the usual caution he kept in the presence of anything so dangerous. Without thinking, he rushed forward, the cold air burning his lungs as he approached the fallen creature. The wolf's fur was matted and soaked in sweat, its body trembling violently as it panted, each breath shallow and labored. A faint whine escaped from the beast’s throat, a sound so pitiful it stopped Arvid in his tracks for a moment.

He knelt beside the werewolf, his hands trembling as he took in the strange sight. The creature’s rags—old, worn, and stained with dried blood—clung loosely to its form, but there were no visible wounds. No fresh blood, no gashes or bites. Arvid’s brow furrowed in confusion. How could something so vicious, so powerful, be in this state? There was no trace of the feral creature he was used to seeing—this one seemed… human. The faintest traces of humanity still lingered in its features.

With what it felt like one last labored breath the werewolf's eyes started to close. Andreas gently slaps it's cheek. Clammy cold skin feels odd, but... Oh well...

The wolf's eyes flicker and seem to focus on Andreas for a second, before growing heavy again. 'not quite dead, not quite alive'. The sense of urgency hits him like a punch in the gut, growing inside his chest, making him forget reason. The creature may be a dangerous beast, a predator, all of that, but...

It stopped trembling, it's breathing became more erratic as it fighting to stay conscious was too much work for it. Andreas slaps his cheek once more.

"Hey! Stay awake, ja? Do not close your eyes!"

Concentrating his adrenaline, Andreas scoops the creature off the snow and lifts it. It's not very heavy, this can't be a good sign, either... Now that he is closer, the man hears a glimpse of the werewolf's muttering.

The howling wind bit at his face, but he barely noticed. His focus was on the wolf’s shallow, erratic breaths and the muttered nonsense spilling from its lips.

“…no, no, I didn’t mean to—please… s’not my fault… I… I tried, I swear I tried…”

Andreas’ grip tightened. The words, though fractured and delirious, carried a weight of desperation. The voice itself was strained, hoarse—like someone who had been screaming for far too long.

The cabin was close now. Warmth. Shelter. He had left the fire burning before heading out to fish, and for once, he was grateful for his own habits. The front door was already unlocked—he kicked it open with his boot and stepped inside.

The heat hit him immediately, chasing away the mountain’s brutal chill. He wasted no time, carrying the werewolf straight to the hearth and lowering it onto the thick fur rug. The moment his arms let go, the creature let out a weak, involuntary whimper, curling in on itself slightly, as if the loss of contact had left it exposed.

Andreas didn’t know what to make of that.

Kneeling beside the werewolf, he worked quickly, stripping away the soaked and tattered rags it wore. Beneath them, the creature was all bone and sinew, its ribs pressing against the thin layer of flesh. It was starving.

The muttering continued—disjointed apologies, strings of gibberish, words that barely sounded human.

“…didn’t know… the moon, it—no, not again, please… sorry, sorry, sorry….

He pulled a thick wool blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over the werewolf’s trembling form. The firelight flickered across its pale, sweat-slicked face, casting strange shadows over sharp, gaunt features. The mumbling continued—soft, fevered, words bleeding into each other.

Andreas hesitated for only a second before pushing himself to his feet and hurrying toward the kitchen. It wasn’t far, just a few steps away in the single-room cabin, but his hands were already moving before his mind caught up. He had to get something warm into the creature—fast.

But what the hell do you give a werewolf?

He yanked open the small wooden pantry, eyes flicking over the meager supplies. Dried meats, bread that was already going stale, a few root vegetables. Nothing that seemed right. His gaze landed on a small pot tucked into the corner. Broth. He had made some the other night. Simple, nothing but chicken and water boiled down, but it would do.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed the pot and set it over the fire, stripping out the solid bits of chicken. The liquid warmed quickly, the familiar scent of salted stock filling the cabin. He stood there, gripping the wooden spoon too tightly, listening to the sound of the werewolf’s strained breathing behind him.

Too slow.

He yanked the pot off the heat before it could get too hot and poured a small amount into a wooden cup. Testing the temperature against his wrist—warm, but not scalding—he turned back toward the werewolf.

The creature had barely moved, its chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow breaths.

Andreas crouched beside it again, his heart hammering against his ribs. He wasn’t even sure if the thing could drink in this state.

“Hey,” he said gruffly, shaking the werewolf’s shoulder lightly. “You need to drink this.”

No response. The eyes, barely cracked open before, were now shut.

So, carefully, he shifted closer, slipped an arm beneath the creature’s shoulders, and lifted it just enough to press the cup to its lips.

"Come on,” he muttered. “Drink.”

The werewolf didn’t react at first. Then, just as Andreas was about to pull back, there was a weak, shuddering swallow.

Good. That was good.

That's it.

Btw I used chat gpt to correct some grammar mistakes bc I wrote this in the last 3 days at 3 am on my phone so... Yeah... I'm really sorry if that upsets you, I just didn't feel like correcting it manually, but I don't plan on doing it like that often.

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chibi Max and Apollo

gonna get turned into stickes :3

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avians ༊*·˚

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Hi I was just wondering do you have a commission sheet for pricing and any terms of services like things you are or aren’t comfortable drawing. Thanks!

Yes! I used to have it fixed on my profile, but now I have a small announcement there.

Here it is

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This is wrong

Max's inner conflict - Part 1