#back to using my sketchy style

[bimbvx]

punks not dead (but you will be) closeups under cut :))

...also i wasn't thinking while drawing this so uhhh in this au tim and toby are left handed ok

[the-raging-tempest]

To celebrate that it’s been a year since I played Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous. And I still love the world and characters in this game.

[chiropteracupola]

so I made some of those character-inspiration collages...

[moth and compass is a collaboration with @natdrinkstea!]

[official-sans-undertale]

you know i love ya babe!

[chaotictomtom]

this is from my 2020 sketchbook, it was this artstyle bend challenge thing, the drawing on the right is my 'usual' style and the one on the left is the one i tried doing the opposite of what ppl told me was charateristic of my style at the time. im now curious 3 years later how i could approach this challenge

[loregoddess]

why does art have to be so art

[maikaartwork]

Artists, let’s talk about Instagram commission scammers

There’s been a huge rise in commission scammers recently, mostly on Instagram. A lot of new artists don’t know what to look out for, so I figured this might help people.

How they begin

Usually the scammer will write to you asking about a commission. Something deceptively cute - mostly I encounter asks about pet portraits, with one or two photos sent. They’ll probably try to sell you a sweet little story, like “It’s for my son’s birthday”. They will insist that they love your artwork and style, even though they don’t follow you or never liked a single piece of your art.

What to look out for:

Their profiles will either be private, empty, or filled with very generic stuff, dating at most a few years back.

Their language will be very simple, rushed or downright bad. They might use weird emojis that nobody ever uses. They will probably send impatient “??” when you don’t answer immediately. They’re in a crunch - lots of people to scam, you know. 

They’ll give you absolutely no guidelines. No hints on style, contents aside from (usually) the pet and often a name written on the artwork, no theme. Anything you draw will be perfect. Full artistic freedom. In reality they don’t really care for this part.

They’ll offer you a ridiculous amount of money. Usually 100 or 300 USD (EDIT: I know it might not be a lot for some work. What I mean here - way higher than your asking price, 100 and 300 are standard rates they give). They’ll often put in a phrase like “I am willing to compensate you financially” and “I want the best you can draw”, peppered with vague praise. It will most likely sound way too good to be true. That’s because it is.

Where the scam actually happens

If you agree, they will ask you for a payment method. They’ll try to get to this part as soon as possible. 

Usually, they’ll insist on PayPal. And not just any PayPal. They’ll always insist on sending you a transfer immediately. None of that PayPal Invoice stuff (although some do have methods for that, too). They’ll really, REALLY want to get your PayPal email address and name for the transfer - that’s what they’re after. If you insist on any other method, they’ll just circle back to the transfer “for easiest method”. If you do provide them with the info, most likely you’ll soon get a scam email. It most likely be a message with a link that will ultimately lead to bleeding you dry. Never, and I mean NEVER click on any emails or links you get from them. It’s like with any other scam emails you can ever get.

A few things can happen here:

They overpay you and ask for the difference to be wired back. Usually it will go to a different account and you’ll never see that money again. 

They’ll overpay you “for shipping costs” and ask you to forward the difference to their shipping company. Just like before, you’ll never see that money again.

The actual owner of the account (yes, they most likely use stolen accounts to wire from) will realize there’s been something sketchy going on and request a refund via official channels. Your account will be charged with fees and/or you get in trouble for fraudulent transactions. 

You will transfer the money from your PayPal credit to your bank account and they will make a shitstorm when they want their money back, making your life a living hell. They will call you a scammer, a thief, make wild claims, wearing you down and forcing you into wiring money “back” - aka to their final destination account. 

Never, EVER wire money to anyone. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Use PayPal Invoice for secure exchanges where the client needs to provide you with their email, not the other way around.

You can find more info on that method HERE.

What to do when you encounter a scammer:

Ask the right questions: inquire about the style, which artwork of yours they like, as much details as you can. They won’t supply you with any good answers.

Don’t let the rush of the exchange, their praise and the promise of insanely good money to get to you. That’s how they operate, that’s how they make you lose vigilance. 

Don’t engage them. As soon as you realize it might be a scam, block them. The sense of urgency they create with their rushed exchange, and pressure they put on you will sooner or later get to you and you might do something that you’ll regret later.

Never wire money to anyone. Never give out your personal data. Never provide your email, name, address or credit card info. 

Don’t be deceived by receiving a payment, if you somehow agree to go along with it. Just because it’s there now doesn’t mean it can’t be withdrawn. 

Here is a very standard example of such an exchange. I realized it’s a scam pretty fast and went along with it, because I wanted good screenshots for you guys, so I tried going very “by the book” with it. 

Please share this post, make it reach as many artists as possible. Let young or inexperienced artists know that this is going on. So many people have no idea that this is a thing. Let’s help each other out. If you think I missed any relevant info, do add it as an rb!

Also, if you know other scam methods that you think should be shared, consider rb-ing this post with them below. Having a master post of scam protection would AWESOME to have in the art community.

[ep-10]

Danny Phantom AU Clockwork's Apprentice (Animatic) - Audio ft Link Click

Watch the video first! Spoilers in the explanation!

↓↓↓

Spoilers!

This is a rough idea of DP retold based on the Link Click anime series concept.

The Danny here is from another future alternate timeline in which he did not become Vlad's adopted son after the disaster of the death of his family and friends at Nasty Burger. In this timeline, he was instead taken in to become Clockwork's disciple to oversee the time stream and grew up under Clockwork's care.

One day, he found another alternate timeline in which Dan existed, causing the destruction of the world and killing everyone. This knowledge re-ignited his fear of seeing the death of his loved ones, and he wanted to change it. Clockwork had warned him many times never to change the time stream, else there would be consequences. Danny ignored his advice and kept returning to the alternate timeline to change the past. But every time Danny went back to save everyone, he kept seeing everyone die over and over again in different circumstances until he realized that he existed outside of the time stream. Danny's timeline had ceased to exist long ago (Similar to Dan's timeline in The Ultimate Enemy episode). No matter how much he tried fixing the past, his family and friends would never be revived in his present time. He could have become Dan if he had chosen Vlad instead of Clockwork as the father.

As for the ending, Clockwork saw the past timeline of Vlad's reported death in the news. Did Vlad died? Was his death tied to this Danny's original timeline? Who or what caused his death? Only Clockwork knew.

Happy 20th Anniversary Danny Phantom!

Most animatics start out with good art but ends with sketchy art. So, I used this style in reverse. The sketchy start is to show how time flows until the final scene in the present in color.

This is my first attempt in creating an animatic. I have no knowledge in animation, so everything I did in this is entirely new to me. A total 171 frames, taken me 2 months to create a 3 minute video. I felt relieved when I actually get this completed!

And I hope you all enjoy watching this fun creation!

[tealgoat]

Fritters part 1! Dialogue by @wonder-of-the-stars !!!

Silly lil comic notes under line break

Page 1

-Added loops to loops speech bubbles because it's funny

-Odile's loops, do in fact, start on a Wednesday lolol

-The lil sketchy marks around Loop's neck and wrists are meant to imply a gradient/ they're in a weird it's clothes but also still skin phase.

Page 2

Loops hands out pose is supposed to mimic some of odile's in game sprites

Page 3

-Can you tell I've been reading dungeon meshi

-Fun fact I just used the initial thumbnail sketch I did for the fritters instead of cleaning up the sketch, I think it makes food look more natural/ better (in my style at least!!)

Page 4

-Tilted triangle panel was inspired by wonder! Thank you wonder

-Even angry loops still partially doing odile's hand pose

-Last 2 odile panels can be connected

-Random thing but I was struggling with that odile pose so much I just traced an old pic I did of loop lol (hey accidental parallels or whatever)

-This ones silly but with the last panel I thought it might be fun to have the gem Odile changes into a star post game in the frame- it's "something different" lol foreshadowing

Page 5

-I wanted to frame it as loop not directly being shown giving the peppers back/ still having the bag- do they give it back to her off screen? Let the peppers just sit there tauntingly refusing to eat them? Do they eat them when she leaves? Up to you!

-Loops pose is directly referencing one of their in game poses

Page 6

-Another in game pose

-Time has passed! This is the same day

[winterarmyy]

Until Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: A mission back in time brought Y/N to an unexpected encounter with the man she fell in love with.

Words: 2.3k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / avenger!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: melancholy-ish plot line with fluffy ending

Inspiration: "You still would've turn my head, even if we'd met on a crowded street in 1944 and you were heading off to fight in the war" – Timeless (From the Vault) by Taylor Swift

Read my other works here: Masterlist

It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. Y/N and Tony were sent back in time to 1944; one day before Captain America and the Howling Commandos deployed to their next mission at the Austrian Alps, in Europe.

The duo were supposed to retrieve some lost files regarding Hydra's hidden bunks and labs back in the days. After the fight with Thanos, there were rumours of the re-creation of Project Winter Soldier lead by an organization that once associated with Hydra. So, they need all the information they could get their hands on; including the ones that are lost decades ago.

Unfortunately for them SHIELD used to be shitty at storing physical files back in the days. To be fair they still do, especially now that technology had advanced. Every single information were at the tip of their fingers; from typical criminal records to the name of every single doctor and nurses who were present when the person was born.

They literally have everything. And nothing at the same time.

And honestly, the mission was quick as they predicted. Tony managed to scanned the needed files and some others that he thought would be important. He's extra like that too, which was a plus.

However quick the mission supposed to be, they barely make it though, especially when the guards were suspicious of Tony's apparently "hippie" beard. It was such a shame. So much for dressing up in 40's style. They kind of nailed the outfit and aesthetics, according to Steve anyway.

However, thankfully by the time they got out of the facility they managed fit right in with crowd. The wave of people lead the duo along its current, more and more people joined in to the point that they weren't able to find any quiet place to activate their time device.

"I thought we're still in WWII? Why is there fucking a parade in the middle of the day?" Tony being unapologetically sarcastic as always.

Y/N looked around as she observed, there was couple of people animatedly, albeit, excitedly exclaimed to the streak of success of Captain America and the Howling Commandos in the war.

A little to the right of them, were a group of children who were semi-cosplaying as Captain America and his dream team, passionately play-fighting with the enemies as if they were in a theater performance.

"I guess they're celebrating small wins. Steve and his team did have several successful raids since the battle at Azzano." It was in fact true; what Y/N speculated was exactly the very reason of the current occasion.

Tony simply shrugged as he stretched his neck higher to hopefully find the end the crowd, "Sure, just keep your eyes open for a place to time jump. I don't want to be stuck in the middle of another war." Y/N nodded as she looked around the sides, wondering if there's an empty alleyway that they could use.

The more sketchy looking it was, the better.

The crowd was chaotic with different mix of conversations and cheers; voices intertwining with one another, each sentences criss and crosses into indecipherable storyline. But even then, Y/N could recognized that breathy, slightly giggly laughter anywhere.

Especially when he brushed right by her.

Y/N was well aware of how madly in love she was with Bucky even with the coy cat-and-mouse game they were playing for months. She knew exactly the hold he had on her soul that at some point, she was conviced that he still would've turn her head in any lifetime.

But that idea was only supposed to be one of the secrets in her mind; the thoughts of a hopeless romantic that she was. Certainly, she didn't dreamt of the vision for it come true. But there she was, frozen on her spot when the time stood still on the crowded street in 1944; fortuitously crossing path with man she fell in love with.

There weren't any suitable explanation for this other than it was fate. In that short milliseconds, Y/N saw the resemblance of the sight to a memory of hers in the crowded room a few short years ago; his left arm slung around Steve's neck, letting his weight leaned on his super soldier friend as he let out a hearty laughter.

There were only slight difference from what she saw before and what she currently seeing; Bucky wore an all black suit at that party, now he's wearing his military uniform in a parade. Bucky was dead drunk on Asguardian mead that night, now he's as sober as a soldier deprived of liquor. Bucky's left hand was adorned with high-tech vibranium metal, now that very hand was still made of flesh and blood, still alive.

During that brief moment of revelation, she truly believed that they were supposed to find this.

Whatever this is supposed to be; Fate? Love? Both? She was not sure either.

She was so stuck on holding her gaze on his back as the young soldier walked a few steps away from her that she didn't notice how the people in the surge glared at her unmoving state or how she had been astray from Tony.

Well, at least it only lasted until someone bumped into her and she staggered backwards, inevitably fell on the ground.

Y/N groaned but quickly patted her pockets to find her time device was still there. I mean, she can never be sure if it was just an accident that she fell or someone intended to distract her while pick-pocketing her belongings.

Though other people would probably already stood on  their feet but Y/N was still on the dusty road, as she was busy recollecting her mental state rather than her physical.

That was when a calloused hand reached out to her, offering a kind help.

She didn't think twice to take his hand, let alone looking up at his face when she gripped it tight enough to make a solid foundation to push herself against the gravity, "Oh dear me! Thank you so much, sir. I really..." She lost her momentum when she met the pale blue of his eyes, "...appreciate it." She ended the sentence breathlessly.

It's Bucky. Her brain tried to let her process the thought. It was not her Bucky but still... it's Bucky. Her eyes then fell to where their skin touched. Warm and gentle. His left hand felt the exact same as his right. It made her to cave in the urge to hold it a little longer, to savour the memory of what it could've been; not that she weren't fond of his vibranium arm but curiosity can be such a fickle thing.

Bucky smiled, "Glad to help, my lady." And oh dear does he smiled effortlessly, freely; as if he knew he deserved to feel joy in his life.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to let go of his hand after a few seconds too long of holding it when she was already up and ready to go. She returned his smile though her heart was barely tough enough to stop the spreading of its cracks, "Really, I can't thank you enough."

In reality, it was probably unnecessary to thank him that much for helping her to get back on her feet, but Y/N wasn't really thanking him just for that.

Unbeknownst to him, she was thanking him for not holding back a smile, for not overthinking about the things he might have done to draw a conclusion that he was undeserving have the luxury to smile, for unapologetically just living the life he supposed to have.

She thanked him for it.

Bucky chuckled amusingly as he slightly titled his head to the side. A charming pull on the corner of his lips revealed a smile that could swoon anyone on sight, especially her.

"Well, we're having a little party tonight before deploying to Europe tomorrow. So, maybe you can thank me by letting me bring you to the dance? How about that, doll?" She almost forgot that Steve was there next to him, until Bucky references the word "we".

And especially when his words might just pulled Y/N's heartstrings in ways that she could never thought someone could do. It was awfully slow, almost too delicate of a pull, but each inches of it pained her deeply.

If it was up to her, she would've said yes a million times over but she knew she can't. And the voice in her earpiece reminded her of it, "Y/N, we gotta go." Tony urged as he watched her from the corner of the street.

Y/N tried her best not let her facial expression flatter, "Unfortunately, I can't. I'm going back to my hometown today." It wasn't exactly a lie when she made that excuse.

"Ohh, I see. You're not from here, huh?" Bucky was very honest as his reaction clearly showed his disappointment. Though not at her, just at the situation.

Her brows briefly crunch into an apologizing plead before she boldly grabbed him by the collar of his uniform, slightly pulled him down to her level, while the other hand cupped one side of his face.

She tiptoed herself upwards as she pressed a firm yet sweet kiss on the smooth skin of his cheek and whispered against it, "But, I hope this would do."

Lost for words, heck, Bucky was lost for thoughts. What was left was his own heart thumping hard and loud that he bet Steve can hear it from where he was standing. His cheeks became warmer by the second and the redness spreads even to the tip of his ears.

Of course he had his cheek kissed before, but not like this. None of them felt like this. They were always too fast, too hasty.

Hers was different. It lingered a little longer, gently leaving her imprint on him. He can feel her grip on his collar, the stroke of her thumb on his cheek and of course the soft pressure of her lips on the other side of his face. He could everything so particularly.

Bucky was rendered speechless even after she pulled her lips away; it was too soon for his comfort. Eyes wide open, his lips slightly parted as he let himself lost in the pleasant surprise.

He thought she would parted herself and ran away feeling embarrassed, but she did the very opposite. Y/N lead his forehead to lean on hers, tip of their nose grazed, and her lips hovered above his.

So close, yet refused to merge with one another.

Y/N whispered quietly, as if she was talking to herself, "You'll be fine, James. You'll find home in the future. I promise."

Her voice trembled as Bucky just noticed how wet her eyes were becoming. With that amount of tears in them, he wondered if her sight were all blurry now.

Y/N took in a shaky breath before continuing, "You just need to survive the winter and trust me at the end of that season, you'll reach the sun again." Her thumbs softly traces his cheeks as she spoke.

Bucky didn't quite understand what she was saying but if he loosely translate it, it would mean that 'she believed that he'll be back soon after the war'. But then again, he felt like there were some major things that was missing from the context that he came up with.

Y/N's earpiece send another transmission of Tony's voice, "Okay, seriously. Come on, Juliette. Your other Romeo is waiting for you." She couldn't help but to smile as she closed her eyes, letting the excess tears fall down to her cheeks.

She didn't want to say goodbye, as she knew that this was not where their story ends, at least not his; that's for sure. So, she simply smiled up at him with a reassuring look in her eyes before stepping back. She then, briefly turned her attention to the dumbfounded Steve, gracing him with a similar smile before walking away.

It was just a few steps away when her hand was caught in between someone's, "Hey!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see Bucky; wide eye, blinking in disbelief and blushing red, all at the same time, "WiIl... Will I see you again?" He asked, though hesitant; wondering if he was being rude.

Compared to what she had done to him, he was just being too polite.

Y/N chuckled dearly, "Of course." Then she replied confidently, "I owe you a dance after all." Her lips parted into a cheeky grin.

Bucky let out a sharp relieved sigh as his lips mimic hers, "I'll look forward to it, doll." He slightly bowed as his hand pulled hers closer to his lips, "Until then." He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand as his gaze remained on hers.

Apparently, it was Y/N's turn to blush to his antics. She stepped back shyly as her cheeks brightens before scurring away. Maybe, Bucky was right with his prediction prior. She did ran away feeling embarrassed after all.

She jogged towards the next corner of the street, meeting up with Tony. The older might have eyeing her in a teasing manner, but his smirk was the biggest giveaway. Y/N simply rolled her eyes, even if her lips maintained its shape from the aftermath of her encounter with Bucky.

As they entered deeper into the alleyway, Tony spoke, "I gotta admit, young terminator was a hottie. Not hotter than me, of course." he claimed.

Y/N frowned, letting out a scoff, "What do you mean "was"? He still is." Call it bias, but at least she was telling the truth.

Tony shrugged, "Meh. Would argue to differ. But, whatever that floats your boat, I guess?" Tony sassed as they clicked on the time device at the same time, revealing a swirlling portal, in front of them.

Y/N quirked her brow, her hands on her hips, "You're just jealous that he aged like a fine fucking wine and you don't." She purposely challenged his ego.

Tony dramatically rolled his eyes, "Please. He wishes." He walked into portal with an attitude, making Y/N laughed at his childish acts.

She looked back at the alleyway one last time and reminisce the last moments of a past that she never belong in. As she walked into the portal, she thought that maybe, it's time to pay her debt to Bucky.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: The start of bucky drabbles because why not. This is considered a drabble for me because i feel like there's lack of story building. But, you tell me. And did you enjoy it?

[heroesriseandfall]

Father, Daughter: Roy & Lian

“Go home, see Lian…if anyone knows who you really are, it’s your daughter.” — Grace Choi in Outsiders (2003) #33

Comic sources:

Titans (1999) #30

Outsiders (2003) #45

Titans (1999) #15

Titans (1999) #25

Titans (1999) #19

Justice League of America (2006) #11

Outsiders (2003) #19

Justice League of America (2006) #11

Outsiders (2003) #20

Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files 2003

Image descriptions in alt text are also copied below.

A comic panel from Titans (1999) #30, showing a green-lit memory of Roy Harper smiling as he looks down at his baby Lian in his arms. Beyond him, Jade Nguyen looks at them warmly.

A comic page from Outsiders (2003) #45 showing Roy Harper as Arsenal with Lian in pink pajamas and a heavy-set man who was babysitting. Roy holds Lian up in the air with his arms and says, “And helloooo, little squeaker!” Lian says, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!!” Roy pulls her in to rest his forehead against hers, holding her wrist as she says, “Y’know what, y’know what--today Nicole and Zach and Ashley and me and Peter and me went to the ac-rarian.” Still smiling, Roy corrects, “Aquarium.” He sets Lian on the floor and they look over, smiling, at the babysitter. Lian continues, “And there were penguins!! Little penguins! Lots of Penguins! And we stayed with the penguins until Omar said we had to go because we had to go home--” Omar the babysitter says, “They were closing.” Lian turns to the TV and presses her hands against the blank screen, saying, “But we came home and watched March of the Penguins--” Omar holds up four fingers, grins at Roy, and says, “Four times, but I skipped past the bad parts.” Roy says, “Thank you.” Lian grabs Roy’s leg and hangs off it joyfully, saying, “And Omar said we could go back to the ac-rarium--” Roy corrects, “Aquarium,” but Lian doesn’t skip a beat before continuing, “on Saturday and you could come with us, and then I’m gonna sleep over Ashley’s!”

A comic panel from Titans (1999) #15 showing Lian sitting on Roy’s shoulders, smiling and waving with one hand to someone out of frame as Roy holds onto her feet to keep her steady. In the background is a cloudy blue sky and the rocky spires of Oljato-Monument Valley in northeastern Arizona.

A comic panel from Titans (1999) #25 showing Nightwing (Dick), Tempest (Garth), Flash (Wally), and Arsenal (Roy) sitting around a campfire at night. Other speech bubbles have been cut off, but Roy is saying, “Still don’t see why I couldn’t bring Lian. She loves camping.”

A comic panel from Titans (1999) #19 showing Lian and Roy in Titans Tower as Flash/Wally is rushing over. There’s a blanket fort and boxes next to Lian. Roy is standing with a cane and has a white cast all the way up to his left thigh. Lian points up at him with a smile as she says, “You may start the campfire, lieutenant.” Roy salutes, his hand touching the brim of his backwards red baseball cap, and says, “Sir, yes, sir!” Lian only reaches his waist in height. Wally is saying something as he rushes in but his speech bubbles have been blanked out.

Two comic panels from Justice League of America (2006) #11 in a realistic but sketchy art style, focused in on Roy’s face which has a few bleeding cuts and his face is scrunched in pain. He’s in his Red Arrow suit. He looks up to say, “Mari, I keep a picture of Lian taped…hhhh…taped inside my quiver. It’s taking everything within me to keep from pulling it out and saving goodbye. Dig. Please.” He closes his eyes and winces with strain.

A comic panel from Outsiders (2003) #19 showing Lian’s bed from above with golden evening light shining in. Roy as Arsenal is sitting on the bed with little Lian on his lap hugging his neck. His arms are wrapped around her, and his face is shadowed, looking haunted. Little movement lines indicate Roy and Lian may be shaking. Lian’s room is filled with shades of pink and brown, and her pillows are covered in several large stuffed animals of various species.

A cropped comic page from Justice League of America (2006) #11 showing two sketchy panels surrounded by black. Roy is in his Red Arrow suit, trapped under bent metal, his skin splattered with blood. He’s nearly lying on his stomach barely holding himself up. Roy’s narration box says, “But with a prayer,” and out loud he says, “Lord, please watch over Lian--” The next panel zooms in a little but his face is still unclear. His narration box says, “And as I lose myself to the darkness--” Out loud, he continues, “--please keep her safe--” then his narration box continues, “--as the wet ceiling presses its foot against my head--”

A comic panel from Outsiders (2003) #20 showing Roy and Lian laying on a brown coach with their eyes closed. Lian’s head is resting on Roy’s chest, while his hands gently hold her elbow and back. A yellow narration box says, “They could stay close to home.”

A comic panel from Teen Titans/Outsiders Secret Files 2003 showing Roy and Lian hugging. Roy is in his Arsenal suit and his face is blocked from sight by Lian’s hair. Lian says, “Daddy, I don’t understand. Donna was your heart and you love her and now she’s become a ghost or something. How will your heart be happy?” Roy says, “Because, etai yazi, you’re my heart. And I love you.”

[snippit-crickit]

Which artists had the most influences on your art/painting style? I really love your work and I wanna know where all those came from haha

Thankya! Honestly there are so many, i usually brainrot over a specific artist for a while and then i find another whose style i find just as intriguing....

But to name a few, when i first started drawing humans i was really inspired by wachtelspinat whose tf2 and midnight crew art i absolutely adore (i read homestuck because of their midnight crew fanart and i was solely disappointed that little chess guys arent actually that important, mayor my man)

I also love shiyoon kim, especially their more sketchy works, you may recognise them because they drew spiderverse concept arts and much more i even have his brush set! You can buy it for 10$

I also had a big phase for sergey kolesov's artworks that comes back to me every now and then, he used to be a concept artist for dishonored 2 and deathloop and the way he renders things in his paintings and his colors are just so,,,

Lately ive been frustrated with my colors so im doing some studies of nathan fowkes's art, his colorkeys are so simple and the values are great and he seems to never use black yet it works

I could go on and on, overall i find old children books inspiring as well, but more like the ones made in the eastern block,,,, same goes for the polish school of poster! heres a poster for alien and big lebowski

i also get inspired by my friends, you know that kind of osmosis where youre buddies with someone and your styles merge together to the point where people cant tell your art apart?? Im kinda like that with my friend fel, they've been of the grid for a while but ill let people know if they ever feel like posting again, heres a drawing they made recently of their oc beaver

[bambheez]

tonight is for the two of us (l.hs)

SUMMARY: two lonely people who find comfort in each other’s presence for one night. PAIRING: heeseung x reader GENRE: angst, smut WARNINGS: mentions of character death, grief, depression, insomnia, child and domestic abuse, alcoholism, profanity, light smut WORD COUNT: 5.8k A/N: the way this entire thing screams verbosity but that’s just my style so pls forgive me lol… obviously this is different from what I’ve posted so far in that there’s actual plot and it’s somewhat dark (so please read the long ass list of warnings before you proceed). you can also listen to the PLAYLIST for this story (I am in love with all of these songs)! as always, reblogs/comments/feedback are especially appreciated! :)

Your clammy hands were gripping the steering wheel to the point where your dashboard lights illuminated the whites of your knuckles. As you made your way up the windy roads to the lookout point, void of any streetlamps and relying on your high beams on blast, you were silently thankful for the lack of cars trailing behind you or driving toward you in the opposite direction.

Had you done your research beforehand instead of simply plugging the address into your phone, perhaps you wouldn’t have embarked on this hour-long journey to go stargazing with your colleagues. You suggested carpooling to no avail, having to face your absurd fear of driving not only at night but also on sketchy, unfamiliar roads. 

A slight crane of your neck to the right brought you a view of the city’s skyline in the distance, a hazy glow amidst a sea of black, and you wished you could teleport back to the comfort of the bright, bustling city. The mere thought of having to drive back down this same path later had you letting out a deep groan. 

A sudden interjection of your phone’s navigation app announcing that you were arriving at your destination in 100 feet caused you to whip your head back in focus, scanning the parking lot as you approached the top of the mountain. 

Your car was the only one in the vicinity, save for a camper van with none of its lights on, looking particularly worn-down and deserted. You parked in a random empty spot, unplugging your phone from its charging port before stepping out into the brisk air. Spotting a bench near the lookout point, you took long strides up across the parking lot and up the hill, plopping down to sit and fishing your phone out of your pocket to check your notifications.

You were surprised to find an empty home screen, expecting a “sorry, we’ll be a few minutes late” in your group chat seeing as it was over ten minutes past the time you were meant to arrive. You dialed the number of the coworker who invited you and you heard her voice come onto the line after three long rings.

“Hey! What’s up?” she was nearly screaming over sounds of at least a dozen other people talking.

“What’s your ETA?” you were muttering, already having a bad feeling of what she was about to say.

“H-huh? Oh, it’s supposed to rain tonight, so we canceled! Sorry, I thought we told y–” you were tearing the phone away from the side of your face and hanging up before she could finish her sentence. 

A miserable chuckle escaped your mouth as you took note of the thick clouds hanging over the sky and brought your feet up on the bench, hugging your knees and resting your back against the wood. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else. 

You thought perhaps moving across the country to a big city would put an end to the dread of a thousand tomorrows, none of them promising any semblance of change, but the truth was you never felt more alone than when you were standing in the midst of a busy crowd surrounded by towering skyscrapers and blinding lights—a single drop in the ocean.

There was no way to describe it other than a vice on your heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant, dull ache. A black hole that threatened to swallow every part of you until all that was left was a human shaped shell, too numb to feel the pain anymore.

There were nights you unwillingly let it control you, and all you could do in those long hours was find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subsided. The vast, open darkness in front of you made you wonder just how many people were out there feeling the same way you did. 

Some old acquaintances had promised to stay in touch, yet what you heard from them was comparable to radio silence, their smiles and efforts merely pixelated and small yellow faces that stopped coming whenever your world fell apart—which was often.

Trudging to get past each day made you realize just how much of your world had revolved around one person—one last connection with a life that used to be. You couldn’t tell her when your local tea shop came out with her favorite lychee drink, when you listened to a song that reminded you of her, how you saw someone on the subway reading a book she had recommended you, or how you overheard a couple arguing over the proper way to load a dishwasher, the very thing you had repeatedly bickered about as college roommates. 

And now that she was no longer in this life, you were constantly questioning your purpose, even occasionally wondering if you were meant to be alone. Was this what the universe had planned for you? You weren’t sure you believed in multiple soulmates, so what happened when yours left you?

If you miss me, just look at the stars. She would always sign the text with a ‘;)’ at the end and you would mock her with a scoff, replying with or I could just call you, dumbass. 

Without realizing, you were already bringing up your history of text messages with her, scrolling through the endless one-sided green texts, each decorated with a delivery error message. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard while the pulsing blue line stared back at you.

“Where are you?” you were wailing out, wincing subsequently at the unexpected echo and crack in your voice. The thundering in the distance seemed to answer you, but you wished the stars were out so that you’d at least know she was watching over you. You couldn’t help but feel that the cloudy skies meant she couldn’t see you, or worse, look out for you. A droplet landed on your cheek and your eyelids fluttered shut at the feeling. You weren’t sure if they were your tears or hers.

It was the end of the week and you somehow found yourself making your way up the mountainous roads again, remembering coming home last time with extraordinary peace of mind despite the frazzled state you arrived in. You weren’t sure what it was, but it was pushing you to get out of the city once again. 

The air was noticeably cooler than it had been last week, and you were scanning your backseat for any signs of a sweater, sighing inwardly when you found none. It was warm when you left your office earlier in the evening and you mentally cursed at yourself for not checking the weather yet again. 

You contemplated staying in the car with the heat on, but a glimpse of your glowing fuel light had you rolling your eyes in disappointment for being so forgetful and inattentive on top of the countless other flaws you felt you carried. 

You were making your way toward the empty bench again, spotting the camper van in the same parking spot. You assumed it hadn’t moved since the last time you were here, most likely having been abandoned. There were considerably fewer clouds in the sky today and you beamed at the view of the small specks of white splattered against the darkness.

“Give me a sign that it’ll all be okay, please,” you spoke while eyeing the stars above you, some brighter than others. Your hair flew in the wind, draping across your face as goosebumps formed on your arms as you prepared to let the rest of your thoughts out. You didn’t remember closing your eyes, but the sound of footsteps approaching had you instinctively opening them and straightening your back and you suddenly felt a weight on your shoulders, gasping to find someone draping their flannel jacket over you.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he spoke against the wind. “You seemed cold.” A boy, now in a plain black shirt, was making his way around the other side of the bench to sit down next to you. He left considerable space between the two of you, which you were silently thankful for. 

You spun around to see where he had parked, not having noticed another car arrive and when you saw nothing but your own car and the camper van, you felt a chill run down your spine. Alarm bells should’ve been going off in your head, but you were seemingly more concerned with the fact that he had most likely seen you in your most vulnerable state, crying out into the open void like a lunatic, not only once, but twice now.

When he felt you staring, he turned his head only to briefly make eye contact with you before glancing back down at his lap. His skin was a pretty shade of olive, the tip of his nose illuminated by the hazy moonlight. You took in the rest of his appearance—worn sneakers with one of the laces untied, ripped jeans, and shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and you found yourself resisting the urge to run your fingers through his locks.

“Why do you keep coming here?” he was asking, picking his head up once more to look at you.

You weren’t so sure yourself. Maybe it was the fact that this was the only place where you didn’t have to pretend. You didn’t know if you wanted to talk to her, to yourself, or to the universe in general; you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry or sit in complete silence. All you knew was that after a particularly bad day at work, you were taking the exit off the highway without thinking, almost as if you had taken this same exit a hundred times before.

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckled. There was an awkward pause, and you were realizing that he wasn’t going to answer you.

“I’m here to u-uh, stargaze.” You were telling the truth, at least partially. 

“Stargazing’s not the best here, with the light pollution and all,” he replied. You hummed, unsure how to respond. He noticed your hesitation and was rubbing his palms against the black denim of his jeans before clearing his throat. 

“‘m Heeseung, by the way.” At first, Heeseung found himself slightly annoyed at the fact that you had disrupted his peace and not-so-secret hideout spot, observing you from his van while you mumbled to yourself on the bench. 

“I travel in my van, but ‘m running low on money.” He was rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed to admit the fact. “The parking here’s free, so…” he trailed off, regretting it immediately after stating the obvious. 

As he got a better look at your face up close, he saw that a small frown seemed semi-permanently etched on your face, which he could tell you were hopelessly attempting to correct as he studied you. A wave of guilt washed over him upon registration of his untimely intrusion, realizing that you would probably prefer to be alone right now due to the blatant evidence that you were pretending to look less dejected in front of him. 

You were briefly introducing yourself as someone new to the city, not knowing what else was interesting about you and accidentally slipping in the fact that you ‘didn’t really have any friends’, teeth chattering slightly even with his jacket resting over your frame. 

“Did you want to sit in my van instead?” Your frown was faltering when your lips parted in surprise at his request. He contemplated adding a lighthearted comment about not being a serial killer to reassure you, but you were already trailing behind him as he stood up. You could tell he was tall when his legs were stretched out next to yours while sat next on the bench, but he was even taller than you’d imagined when he was standing up, even with a slight hunch in his posture. 

Heeseung peered over his shoulder to catch you struggling to keep up with his longer strides, still clutching onto the collar of his jacket over your right shoulder and he let a soft smile adorn his face as he slowed his pace to match yours. He was rounding the front of his van to open the passenger side door for you but you were already cutting in front of him, hopping up on the door sill clumsily.

You let yourself into the passenger side, holding the jacket out to Heeseung who was still staring at you through the driver side window. He opened the door and pulled himself into the seat, reluctantly taking the jacket from you and tossing it on some unknown surface of the van behind him. 

He turned on the ceiling light of his van and began blasting the heat after noticing that you were sitting on the backs of your hands. His fingers were fiddling with the knobs on the CD player to turn on soft, lullaby-like piano music and you made a poor attempt at stifling a laugh. For some reason, you expected him to be into rock music and found the unexpected contrast endearing. 

Heeseung shot you a confused look at the sound and you simply shook your head and waved it off, a small smile still playing on your lips. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was, but you felt a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

For the first time that night, you were taking a closer look at his features. Underneath his bangs were eyes that carried both fervor and innocence and lips that were held in a constant, soft pout. He was chewing on his bottom lip, eyes darting around the space in front of him at the feeling of you staring at him so intently. He shook his head so that his bangs were falling over his eyes again in one swift movement before thinking of something to say to take your attention off his face.

“I dropped out of college when I was 18,” he was muttering, trying to gauge your reaction from his peripheral view before continuing. “And then I ran away from home to travel.” He was leaving out key details like the fact that he didn’t necessarily run away from home with the goal of traveling but instead began traveling because he simply had nowhere else to go. 

When he came home after his first semester with an official diagnosis from his university’s health center, his family refused to let him seek therapy or any other form of help. With a father who was never home and a mother who went as far as threatening to disown him if he didn’t return to school the following semester, Heeseung wasn’t left with much of a choice. 

You were surprised that he was even sharing this much with you. Your heart tightened at the thought of him being alone in the world at such a young age and his lack of a support system, seemingly more alone than you were. He was considerably better than you at concealing his loneliness and you hated that fact, not because you wanted to be better at it but because you knew just how much effort it took. 

Heeseung could barely remember what it was like to have his father around, the only seemingly harmonious moments spent with him before he started grade school fleeting and long forgotten. The bulk of his adolescence was spent resenting his father for the way he treated his mother, where his father would appear through the front door every few months or so in one of his drunken episodes, an empty bottle of liquor already in hand.

He almost always knew when it was happening, the rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for alcohol reverberating through the house and to his room. He couldn’t understand why his mother wouldn’t stop restocking the house with it or why she wouldn’t change the locks or take his father’s keys or even file for a divorce, and he couldn’t help but despise her weakness and inability to stop pitying her husband.

“Look who decided to finally show up for his mother,” the older man seethed, breath reeking from the drunken stench.

A particularly loud argument had Heeseung flying down the stairs, the sound of a glass bottle breaking causing his mother to let a scream out of her mouth. He took in his father’s appearance, unshaven and eyes bloodshot with a lazy smirk playing on his lips. A look off to the side at his mother with tears streaming down her cheeks was suddenly leading to punches being thrown and knuckles growing bloodied. A harsh shove from his father caused him to lose his balance and tumble onto the wooden floor.

“Maybe ask yourself why you’re defending a fucking cheater instead,” his voice boomed through the living room. A puzzled expression took over Heeseung’s face as he turned toward his mother who winced both at the sound of her husband slamming the door as he left and the way her son ran his tongue over his busted lip, eyes beginning to gloss over.

After finally grasping the fact that his mother was not the person she made herself out to be and what pushed his father over the edge over ten years ago, Heeseung, who had always stuck close to her growing up, attempting to make up for the lack of his father’s presence, began growing increasingly distant from her as he finished his final years of high school. The very thing he swore he wouldn’t touch in his life was the only thing he took with him and stashed in his van the night he left.

He was wrapping his hand around the nearly empty beer can in his cup holder from the thought of his childhood memories and shooting a pained expression your way at the paled look on your face, eyes pooling with concern and he tried to perceive it as anything but pity.

“I honestly don’t mind it much,” he was saying, but an unfamiliar look was flashing across his eyes and even though you barely knew him, you felt like you could see right through him.

He was redirecting his gaze out the windshield. He had used the North Star almost as a source of direction in his travels for the past few years, as cliche as it sounded. Tonight was the first night it was visible in the two weeks he had been parked here, deciding to camp out in the deserted park until it reappeared and he had saved enough money from his part-time job in the city. 

The North Star appeared noticeably brighter tonight, a beacon in the middle of the night shrouded in shadows and Heeseung was suddenly wondering whether it was a coincidence that you were here with him at this very moment, whether you were the very person who hung the North Star for him in the night sky, guiding him toward a purposeful destination, or whether you were the destination itself. He was shaking his head at the intrusive thought as you followed his line of sight.

The heat blowing throughout the van was fogging up the windows and blocking up your view of what he seemed to be focusing his gaze on. Heeseung watched as you turned in your seat, moving your body to face the passenger window with one leg folded up on the cushion. You were bringing your fingers up to touch the glass, slowly drawing a heart with your index finger and peering through the clear traces at the sky.

Heeseung, nowhere near intoxicated from his built up tolerance over the years, took one last sip of his drink, still not taking his eyes away from your side profile and subtle movements as you immersed yourself in your own world for the second time that night. He was turning to his own window to mirror your actions, outlining a much sloppier heart on the glass. By the time he finished and spun around to face you, you were already watching him with a beam, the apples of your cheeks rosy. 

You were suddenly bursting into laughter, your brain on autopilot as you leaned over the center console to fix his drawing. You were practically pushed up against him with your hand resting on his thigh as you drew over his sketch on the window, adding a dozen more hearts around the first and filling up the rest of the fogged glass with your doodles. Heeseung was noticeably stiffening under you, attempting to distract himself from his quickening heart rate by picking at the fraying of his jeans on the leg you weren’t perched on.

You leaned back to admire your silly artwork for a few seconds before glancing over at him and noticing Heeseung’s eyelashes fluttering delicately, still reeling from the sudden physical contact. Upon noticing the close proximity, you were removing your hand from his lap and bringing it back into your own, leaning into the seat again and you could feel the heat evident on your face, knowing it must’ve been even more apparent to him. He was no better at concealing his own expressions as his sheepish smile faltered, feeling abnormally disappointed in the sudden loss of contact.

Still in a daze, Heeseung was reaching behind him to grab a can of beer, holding it out in front of you while his eyes were trained on the single heart drawn on the passenger side window. He held back a grimace as he realized that he’d done so without thinking, hoping you hadn’t caught on to his dependency. You accepted his offer without hesitation, wiping the rim of the opening with the bottom of your shirt and popping open the tab, taking gulps at a much faster speed than you were normally used to.

Your head was still spinning with the thought and feeling of the burn of your fingertips against his thigh. You both drifted into a comfortable silence, the music no longer playing since the CD player in his rundown van didn’t have the ability to auto loop tracks or albums and the hammering of his heart against his chest seemed almost too loud for you not to notice. Heeseung thought about taking out the disk and replacing it but decided against it, not wanting to disrupt the stillness of the air around you. 

Your lips formed a small frown as you saw clouds beginning to shape. You thought it was the alcohol deceiving you, but you blinked a few times and the clouds were still there. 

“I hate the rain because it means I can’t see her. It makes me think that she’s crying,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence. You could feel his gaze fall to you as he fell out of his trance, but he didn’t ask who, just simply nodded. 

His reaction made you freeze in your spot, realizing you had most definitely overshared beyond an imaginary boundary. You almost wanted to apologize for it before you were saying the next thing that came to your mind. 

“Have you ever fallen in love?” you were abruptly blurting out.

He was quirking his brow in amusement. “Come on, I can barely fall asleep,” he laughed softly but not without a somewhat pained expression behind his eyes. You had assumed it was a joke, but the sincerity in the way he observed you told you it wasn’t. Your eyes widened before you were nodding softly and returning a weak smile, taken aback by his confession.

“Don’t worry about it,” he was brushing it off. “You?”

You were staring out the windshield again for a few moments, lost in your thoughts before responding, “A lot of unrequited love, if that counts.”

You began to explain how you had never been in a relationship, not because you didn’t want to, but because it was seemingly out of your control. You presumed that the time you spent on this earth loving romantically without any reciprocation had somehow altered your brain chemistry to truly believe that you were meant to be alone from the very beginning, and you were often wondering which would hurt more, to have had true love and lost it or to never have had it at all. Dwelling over the fact that you had already experienced some form of both made your situation seem all the more ridiculous.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him the way you were flighty in your thoughts, jumping to one without finishing the other. As a result of the accumulation of thoughts you created when you were alone, all the things you would talk to yourself about came spilling out. 

Your mind went on talking even when you were alone. And when you ran out of storage, the thoughts needed to come out somehow. Partly due to your insecurities you hoped that by talking more, you’d be accepted and loved by someone—it hadn’t proved itself to be a successful method in the past and you weren’t sure it ever would be.

“I give, and give, and give. That’s all I do,” you continued, your voice now uneven and trembling slightly. “I give until I have nothing left. I’m terrified of the love I have because I know it will ruin me—it already has, and I know I will continue to let it.”

You were heaving out a sigh of relief at the massive weight being lifted off your chest, still feeling a sort of emptiness but a strangely pleasant lightness associated with it. Even then, you were perplexed by your own eagerness to share your entire life story to someone you met just hours ago, partially blaming the alcohol for how unfiltered you became and you couldn’t tell what Heeseung was thinking from the stoic look on his face and his big doe eyes blinking back at you.

It most definitely wasn’t a feeling of pity, that he knew. It felt almost like a weakness in the heart—like his heart wasn’t working properly—a fleeting lightness that passed through him, being simultaneously lulled to sleep by a single gesture and set on fire by your every touch. 

Your eyes were glossed over, from your lengthy outpour or intoxicated state Heeseung wasn’t certain, but he held not a single ounce of doubt of the amount of love you held. Unsure of what came over him, he was resisting the urge to lean over and cup the sides of your face and tell you that even in his broken, wretched state, he was willing to accept anything you had to give and return everything and more.

“It’s really late. I can drive you home,” he was offering. He convinced you he was sobering up with a lazy smile plastered on his face, yet you couldn’t help raising your brows at the slight flush of his cheeks and numerous empty beer cans in the cup holder.

“I think I’d rather stay here,” you were speaking nonchalantly before turning to look at him with what Heeseung thought he saw were literal stars in your otherwise cloudy eyes. At the implication of your words, he could feel and hear his heart beating at a pace so fast it rang through his ears. As much of an open book as you were, he didn’t expect that from you and you even stunned yourself as the words left you, mouth now agape as you stared back at him. 

You wanted to blame your lack of sobriety yet again but you knew that the flood of emotions had put your mind in a remarkable state of clarity. His calmness—how he listened and watched attentively without any questions, just simply looking at you with a fondness in his eyes—fastened you with a sense of immense trust in him.

Thankfully, he was quickly nodding and turning around to turn on the lights that lit up the rest of his van. In contrast to his somewhat rugged appearance, his space was neat and cozy and it amazed you how few belongings he had; everything fit in his van and there was almost no clutter. The only hint of personality and life you could find was the guitar hanging over the bed, and you were smiling to yourself knowing he at least had music to accompany him. 

Heeseung had suggested cooking some ramen for you, but you simply shook your head with a sleepy smile and told him you weren’t hungry. He didn’t say anything as he clambered on top of his sheets and patted the spot next to him. There wasn’t much space in the van for anything other than a bed and a small stovetop and you were skeptical there would be enough room for you to both lay comfortably. 

You fit yourself on the mattress between him and the back door while he crawled under the covers, pushing his pillow toward you behind your back and grabbing an extra one from beneath the bed for himself. You were still sat leaning against the side of the van as you contemplated your next move, wondering whether you should prioritize comfort or decency and you squirmed at the thought of your dirty jeans on someone else’s sheets.

A brief glance at Heeseung, who was lying on his back with his eyes closed and hands resting over his stomach, had you quickly tucking yourself under the blankets and unzipping your jeans, pulling them down and kicking them over your ankles. You were shuffling downward and placing the now folded jeans beside your pillow, facing away from Heeseung as you pulled the covers up to your chest.

You couldn’t tell but Heeseung had visibly stiffened, eyebrows now slightly furrowed in concentration as he attempted to fall asleep, willing himself to think about anything other than you and your presence inches away from him. He was staring at the ceiling, breath uneven at how you were so similar in the way you craved connection yet different in the sources of your troubles and the way you coped—one capable of giving anything and one who didn’t know how to give at all. 

You felt the bed dip and you could hear Heeseung shuffling around behind you, his heavy breathing against your neck telling you he was now facing you, and still lying on your side when you felt his fingers graze across your hip bone. 

The heat radiating off his body behind you was seeping into your own skin, slowly building into a burn before you were flipping yourself over to face him and immediately thrown off by just how close he was. A slight lean forward from either of you would close the gap, and your eyes were unconsciously flickering down to his lips at the thought.

You were pulling yourself flush against him, savoring the feeling of your bodies pressed so closely together, resting your head in the crook of his neck and he let out a sharp gasp from above you. You could feel his heart beating underneath your palms as you moved your hands across the expanse of his chest. A slight crane of your neck and you were tentatively placing your lips against his jaw, a shaky breath of Heeseung’s fanning your face from the action.

As your kisses moved from his jaw down to his neck, his mouth was parting softly, lifting his head into the pillow to provide you with more access. One particularly harsh suck against his collarbone had him surging forward for more, latching onto the hem of your shirt and fingers hesitantly grazing the waistband of your underwear. 

Heeseung was then leaning forward onto his elbows, the hand that was previously slotted between your bodies wrapping around your shoulder to pull you up and level to him, bringing you into a gentle kiss that caused the hairs on your arms to raise.

It overwhelmed you how thrilling yet calming it felt to be kissing him. You were completely drinking him in, the touch of his skin against yours heating up the pits of your stomach and causing shivers to wrack through you and simultaneously taking your mind off of everything else.

He was gentle with his touch, but his lips were rough and chapped and he was kissing you with so much longing and desperation that for a second, you contemplated whether this was his first time kissing someone, craving any and every bit of physical contact. You quickly dismissed the thought as he took advantage of your inattentiveness with a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, your lips parting slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth skillfully.

Your stomach churned and you were writhing under his touch from the way your tongues intertwined, a pit of heat rising in your lower stomach. Heeseung was letting out a choked whimper at the feeling of your hands reaching underneath his shirt, smoothing over the skin of his stomach. 

“You okay?” you were whispering as you pulled back, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. He held your gaze for a few seconds, both delicacy and sharpness etched in his features, before his lashes fluttered and he was shaking his head, burying it in your neck. Your hands were sliding along his scalp to soothingly stroke his hair, heart aching at the vulnerability and rawness with which he looked at you. 

It wasn’t clear whether the cause of his feverish state was from the simple presence of you in his arms, but something told you that you should’ve seen it coming when the way he looked at you gradually began changing as the hours progressed.

You were pulling back and placing one last, soft kiss against his lips, lingering for a few moments too long before wrapping your arms around his torso in a tight embrace and rubbing his back gingerly. 

Heeseung was redirecting his attention out at the sky through the back window, foolishly looking for you and him in the stars. Some stars gradually dim and lose their luster, and on a rainy night, you might never see them again. 

You weren’t thinking about what would happen when the stars faded and the sun rose, or when you would see him again—you didn’t need to see him or be physically near him to feel him. Your subconscious was finding comfort simply from the feeling of his chest pressed against yours, your thumb rubbing circles over his shirt while you listened to Heeseung's soft breathing and the sound of the rain beginning to fall against the windows.

A/N: the bolded quote is based on something I saw on twitter: “I’m scared of the love I have for you. Because I know it will ruin me. And I also know that I will let it. I love hard.” but I couldn’t find the source, so credits to the original owner.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: Pablo Lobato

Pablo Lobato was born in Trelew, Patagonia, Argentina, in April 1970. He studied graphic design at Universidad Nacional de La Plata, as well as Painting and Engraving. He moved to Buenos Aires to work as a graphic designer in the editorial field. After five years, he got bored and decided to give one more chance to his true love: portraits. Represented by Anna Goodson, he started working as a collaborator in magazines and newspapers: Rolling Stone, The New Yorker, Wired, New York Times, Entertainment Weekly, TV Guide, and The Village Voice, among others. His work has been featured in Illustration Now Vol.3 and Portraits! by Taschen editorial. Lobato has taken part in numerous collective exhibits in Argentina, the United States, Italy, Chile, and Portugal.

Check out our interview with Pablo below!

Can you take us through a day in the life of working on a project like Wendell & Wild?

I worked on this project during the lockdown because of the COVID pandemic, so I was home all of the time. My days consisted of zooms with director Henry Selick, work, play with the kids, work, make dinner, watch a series on Netflix, work, and more work. While everyone was trying to figure out what to do with their free time, I was working like never before.

What was the inspiration behind the character designs in Wendell & Wild, and which character was the most challenging or interesting to develop?

Each character was inspired by different people or things. Wendell and Wild are caricatures of Keegan Michael Key, and Jordan Peele. The inspiration for Kat was a blend between the Afropunk movement and ancient African masks. Manberg could be an Israeli Marlon Brando.

What do you wish you had known when you first started out creating art that you know now?

How to be a character designer!!! This was my first time, so I had to learn in the process.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist? 

I find myself looking for new things all the time, finding new directions to go in, and making mistakes.

How many unfinished/WIP pieces do you have? Care to share a sneak peek..?

Hundreds!!!!!

How has your style developed over the years?

At the beginning, my work was very sketchy—very rough. Then, I started using the computer, and everything was cleaner and more geometric. Now, I think I’m going back to more organic shapes.

What does your work set up look like?

It’s a mess. Please don’t ask me for pictures. I will never show it.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

It was a big change when I first started using the computer. But technology keeps growing, and I’m using the same old software as 20 years ago.

Who or what on Tumblr inspires you and why?

I appreciate the diversity that Tumblr has. Thousands and thousands of different art projects popping in front of your eyes. It’s like a brainstorm on your screen.

Thank you so much for stopping by, Pablo! Check out his work with Netflix’s Wendell & Wild over at @netflix!

[sanctus-ingenium]

u guys wanna see more WIPs... similar to the last post, here are Some WIPs

all of these were started in sai before going on to procreate. before going back to sai again in the case of the strength card

so Blue Sky/Out Of Time... yeah it’s extremely self-explanatory, it’s very obvious what this scene depicts and i’m sure everyone gets it (this is a joke i’ve had multiple people dm me asking wtf this even is). the one element that absolutely NEEDED to be there was the LED digital clock with a bullshit time on it, and i decided to replace it with an AIRE warning sign instead and put the LED readouts in the bg. the warning sign in this setting serves the purpose of informing ppl when there are hostile faeries around. i knew what the colours would be from the beginning, but it took a bit for me to realise what sort of shading style i wanted (it took forever). but i did know i wanted to contrast the very sketchy black void against the cleaner and almost cartoony/comic book style rest of the drawing, to emphasise the fact that the foreground sky and background void are made of two very different things. again i used a colour shifting brush to quickly make all the shards of sky different colours, but originally i planned to have some of the shards be dark or night time (with stars or the moon etc). unfortunately it didn’t work, it was too dark and pascal got lost against it.

My Eyes Are Up Here is pretty obviously the exact same scene with the same character, in the same field, but with a different sort of atmosphere. i sketched this in sai then did the final in procreate. originally it was going to have a black background

i really like this version tbh but the blue works better. i think he looks good against dark backgrounds where it’s kind of hard to see wtf is even happening there

so about the neon signs..... i’m well aware that the sketch has way more promise than what the final ultimately was, and that’s because i found that i didn’t have the technical or artistic ability to pull off the complex neon signs like i wanted to. i couldn’t get it looking good enough so i had to scrap them. but these signs will be back, i want to draw them properly and do them justice. the gif was unplanned too but i thought it would be fun to have the flicker be very intermittent so that if you scrolled past it you might not even realise, or you’d have to stick with it just to catch it looping. i used GIMP to make the gif and change the frame rate, and this actually took a very long time because i had to preview it over and over. anyway if you WERE to get lost in the púca’s field, in this story, you would see neon signs like this encouraging you to follow them.

Strength is actually the last drawing i ever made that ended with a paint-over in sai, and the oldest drawing here. as such i actually don’t think it’s representative of my current ability but i do have a soft spot for it for sentimental reasons lol. the reason for the paint-over in sai was because i drew this at a time when i still did not trust procreate to be able to place the level of finish on it that i wanted

the background took me a thousand years to figure out. literally it was so annoying that i considered scrapping it for something simpler. but the idea was for it to be a kind of fairytale-ish lost in the woods sort of look while also appearing like the blood vessels around the human heart. the branches were also supposed to be heart-shaped in cross-section but i spent so long zoomed in painting them that i forgot to zoom out to see if all those fine details were actually visible, and it turned out they weren’t. i was disappointed that i couldn’t get félix’s tattoos to look right but that’s what i get for making a character with shit tons of both tattoos and body hair. i also got rid of the foreground branches really soon because they weren’t adding anything and muddied up the readability of his pose

the swan is from a daemon au and bears no relation to my other swan characters. i just like swans a lot

[lovesby]

HOLD ME, HAND. a handmade Renchanting zine by me! Transcripts, and image descriptions under the cut. Experience it on my website! (Transcripts inline on there.)

Pictured is the cover and back cover of the zine. The back cover is the same style scribbled black vertical line, but less dense, and with a streak of red scribbled lines towards the top half of the page.

Page 1 and 2 of the zine. On the left, the page behind the cover, has a crude drawing of the Dogwarts banner in red pen. It is an almost fully red banner with three white triangles at the bottom edge. The text on the side of the page, written along the side edge, says “a hand made Renchanting zine by SBY.” Renchanting is in red text, as is SBY. SBY is circled like a signature. On page two, there is a poem, titled “how it ends”, aligned left, in plain black text. It says; Let’s try this again: You go into fruitless labor for fruitless/business for fruitless prizes in fruitless/games. No winning here, there is none./I know that. I see it. I’ve seen it all ahead/of time, I see it clearly now. Play/stupid games, play stupid pretend. No/winning. I know. But this time I’ll play along, stupid games./This time, I’ll climb up the hill and see/you there, and walk the other/way. I’ll know better. I’ll leave you to it. A gentle/nod. Magic can’t save us, in the end./Love can’t mean anything if I know -how it ends.

Pages 3 and 4 of the zine. On the left page, page 3, is a poem written diagonally down the page. Once in black, then repeated in red. It is titled “on you.”/”(on you)” and the title is both on top and on the bottom of the poem to be read with the rest. The poem reads, “on you. drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark (on you). drawn to you like gravity draws the axe to meet its mark” On page 4, on the right, is a sketchy drawing of a handaxe, colored in slightly with blue pen and red hearts scribbled around the sharp end of the axe instead of blood. On the handle, all caps cut off text reads, “Red winter is-”

Pages 5 and 6 of the zine are in all black ink. This is a two page spread of a poem titled “puppy love”. The title is horizontal down the middle spine. On the bottom half, under the large block of poem text, is drawn the roots and trunk of a tree. On the top half, on the right page, above the text, is drawn the top half of the same tree. The text on the left reads, “I don’t fully understand what it is/about you that makes me want to/run and hide under the tall dark/oaks. Something about you makes/me scared like a child, not devoted/to some thing or another. Or another/thing. I don’t fully understand what/it is that makes my heart tug and/beat when someone else is near you./Like something or another, pulling/me closer.” The text on the bottom half of page 6 reads, “I don’t need to understand what it is/about you that makes me want to put the/wooden handle in your firm calloused hands./The hands I held in mine, planting row/after row of garden in the soil in/front of the shack your calloused hands/helped build, behind the walls your hands/helped me build. I feel it too. So I’m/putting this in your hands, now."

Pages 7 and 8 of the zine. On the right is a crude drawing of a red crescent moon with three black birds in front of it. On the right is a poem titled, “be still, be ready (steady)”. The title is written vertically on the middle spine again. In red pen, complementing the black ink text of the poem is a scribbled red cloud and red snowflakes. The poem reads: and with the palpitations in/my throat i finally/understood what it would/feel like to eat a/heart while it was still/beating. i’m holding your heart in my hands/and swallowing it whole./you asked me to, and now i am, i’m/swallowing you whole.

Pages 9 and 10 are a mostly white page space two page spread of black lowercase text, that simply reads, very spread out, on a top left to bottom right diagonal, “oh./i understand,/now.”

Pages 11 and 12 of the zine are the first part of a four page spread of one poem meant to be read from left to right ignoring the middle spine. There is a long arrow at the cutoff at the end of the page, indicating that the poem continues. It is in black ink and says; The wagon jumps --- not for joy. Executioner’s boots squeal/at the same frequency of the damn wheels creak. The same joy/peverted [sic]. I never understood an axe until I became one./Sharpen me,/deep repetitive motion, make me feel/good. How I touch/the scar around your neck and know/I made it --- mine, mine. I smell bile/feel it in my throat too, and/I look up to see one of the men,/big and strong framed/an ox/of a man and gentle like one Pages 13 and 14, continuing the 4 page spread. The rest of the text says; has thrown up onto the road. Leaving it/pieces of him in our wake. I don’t throw up/even if I feel like/I left myself somewhere else. Becoming the axe, becoming the axe. Long road home/to take it back. Bury me/in someone else’s/hand. The title of the poem is revealed on the bottom right of the last page; “Long Live the King”. Above it is a drawing of an open eye and a closed eye in red ink.