#daily drawin'

[dailyturtles]

Day 8

TMNTTober 1: Mutant

Ice Cream Kitty has a very special place in my heart :3

[xenomorphicdna]

Titties out my boy! You're killing it

Love walking out of a drawin shaking and covered in blood,,, /pos but also this was a nightmare to draw I won't lie

[luck-of-the-drawings]

WWWOOOPS FORGOT I MADE THIS. drew this back at around when the hyperbolic time chamber training arc was just starting. remember that? huh? remember the hamspter??? ohhhhhhhh youll remember the haspter!!!! oh my god yknow what else i remember. williams overwhelming love for christmas. oh my god. spooky zombie boy loves the christmas.. literally the best possible thing for him...

[humblegoatart]

daily sketch 3.14.24

i had a nap this afternoon and during the nap i had a. wild dream. the players therein were an emotionally repressed average dudeTM and…what i can only think to describe as a dragon god of hedonism? and he was trying to get the guy to lighten up. anyway they were stuck in my head all evening so i had to draw them

[axelmedellin]

Daily drawing 16 oct 2022

Day 16, Mabsdrawlloweenclub, “Build-A-Beast”

Also, Drawlloween, “Teacher from the Black Lagoon”

Yes, two very close Creatures during this month. My favorite monster, anyway.

[tia-safalin-daily]

Little Safalin drawing I did <3

hi sory i never asnwered this for like two montsh or something but beautiful art u drew ur soooo cutes :3

[pikichavez2022]

Witchtober 2023 Día 7: Hongo🍄

[daily-property-police]

Day 158- time to pack up boys

[infifi3]

i should NOT let weird comments abt my art affect me and yet......... sometimes the Worms get me,.

[mystery-star]

Drawings - Day 21

Some more love for Johnny today :)

Now drawing actually is a lot of fun bc I know some tricks and the app quite well.

[dailyturtles]

Day 14

idk i wanted to try using a limited colour palette and i think it looks pretty alright so 👍

[mechi000]

been a bit depressed and didn't draw for months, so i decided to go back at it with some quick self portraits 🐱

[cat-doodle]

lazy random dude

[dadailybocch]

YO! WELCOME to Da Daily Bocch! This is where I draw ol' Bocchi on a somewhat regular basis! I might also ramble about stuff from time to time, but if you don't wanna see that & you're just here for the drawings, the tag for all the stuff I've drawn is "Drawin' Da Bocch" (apostrophe included, all lowercase). Hope you enjoy!

[pikichavez2022]

Witchtober 2023 Día 4: Calavera

[carminavulcana]

The Man In The Mirror

Written for the prompt 'Varadha X Mirror'

There was something almost otherworldly about the last prahara of the night in Khansaar. The beginnings of dawn peeked through the folds of the crumpling fabric of the night. The world’s unease tossed and turned as if in the throes of a nightmare. But the first light in the distant horizon was a silent beckoning to awakening. The nightmare must always end. The motions of living must always begin. 

Varadha never needed an alarm clock to wake up. The rays of the sun streamed in through his windows to greet him with a cool, comforting warmth each morning. It was the one thing that was constant about Khansaar. It was also the only thing about Khansaar that he enjoyed rather than endured. 

As the day progressed, the light slowly turned into a flare of fire, raining hell upon the land. And yet, the tribes of Khansaar fought over it, bled for it, and turned on their own for the perverse pleasure of gashing the land into as many bloodied strips as they could. 

Their prize? The pride of one of their own. 

Varadha took his time getting dressed each morning. He didn’t like wearing colors other than black. There was a certain degree of security in the opaque coldness of the dark end of the spectrum of hues. And Varadha, his own master, his own protector, and for all practical purposes, his own salaar, needed the oppressive, heat-absorbing black to fortify his defences— to guard himself from those around him who sought his destruction and those who still wanted to tear his heart open and check if it indeed pumped only venom as they suspected it did. How would it be then, he mused, that if they were to someday open his heart, they would find inside it a mausoleum— the place where he had buried Deva, despite the promise he made even as he left the land of his birth forever

Mausoleums were rarely to be visited. They weren’t good for one’s mental health. Pity, Varadha didn’t have the luxury of choice. But still, he was grateful for the mercy of not having to see it. His skin and sinew took care of that. 

As he faced the mirror to get dressed for the day, his mind retreated to a blank space; which was just as well, because there was little else to think about but the carnage that had ripped apart Pathran. And with it, a significant chunk of Varadha’s faith in himself. 

He tightened the belt around his waist before pulling over the kurta. Routine though the process was, he was meticulous about it each day. For never would he take the dignity of his appearance for granted. He combed his hair back. He applied the kohl to the undersides of his lower eyelids. He wore his shoes, first the left one, followed by the right one. 

At last, he opened his drawer for the most precious part of this daily ritual. The nose ring. That coveted symbol of his lineage and royal birth that Rudra so desperately wanted to take from him. 

To Varadha, though, it was so much more. 

He didn’t lack Mannar pride. He didn’t lack the fire that coursed through the veins of all Khansaari warriors. He didn’t lack the thirst for power. 

But he lacked the cruelty of the men who called the shots. 

And how could he not? His earliest memories were of camaraderie beyond the bonds of kinship. His first lessons in human nature had been of unconditional love, unflinching loyalty, and unparalleled bravery in the face of unsurmountable odds. 

His first brush with himself had been knowing that Deva would come to define him in life and in death. 

With trembling hands, Varadha looked himself in the eye and adorned his septum with the precious silver ornament, its weight familiar and reassuring. 

Without it, he felt incomplete, lesser somehow. 

But his reason was not the same as Rudra’s. 

Outwardly, this septum ring was what marked him as his father’s son. But his soul knew that in reality, it marked him as the chosen of Deva’s devotion. 

The mirror only affirmed what he knew. But seeing it all the same was Varadha’s way of drawing strength from his slowly diminishing well of will. 

Today, however, he would prevail. 

Tomorrow would be another day. 

If you enjoyed this story, please do let me know what you thought of it! Thank You!