#first time using a pixel brush

[peekaboo6293]

brokenpickaxe collab w/ @ dionne_nysus on insta (who also goes by dionne-nysus on tiktok but tumblr won’t let me link to it for some reason 💀)! she drew garrett & came up with the prompt, while I drew steve and the bg

the prompt was them placing their Minecraft beds together lmao

[em7raen]

first real post HII

[chalkrub]

more svanhildr - trying new things, like a brave boy

[bosiphas]

dont open the door denji

[odetoscavengers]

screenshot studies from thief, wanted to test out some color + material stuff and thought thief would be a fun subject heavily referenced from my own screenshots

second part here

[unsettlingcreature]

if i told you i painted this in minecraft would you give me a little kiss on the forehead

[smoothedsmoothie]

elf character from a ttrpg campaign i'm in

[artataliaf]

the friendly dinosaur 🦖🏹

[nin-nyan-ve]

आठ

|| रेणू हरीकरण ||

Hakurei Reimu with an indian twist for the toonsutra contest on instagram. calling her Harikarna Renu.

[tanasha-not-yet]

be careful this bitch is lying theres NO caterpillar in ur hair. in fact when you start trying shaking it off he'll try to stop you bc what if you accidentally hurt it and something gross stays in your hair? LIAR HE JUST WANTS AN EXCUSE TO TOUCH YOUR HAIR. AFTER HE DOES IT HE'LL SHOW YOU THE CATERPILLAR HE “SAVED YOU FROM”. HE CAUGHT IT IN THE BUSHES BEHIND AND HID IT IN HIS SLEEVE

[nanamisgirly]

you gotta win if you wanna cum ྀི

“keep playing” gojo murmurs barely audible, almost embarrassed to say it—but his fingers are already slipping under your shorts like he's done this in his head a hundred time. “i-i wanna see if… my good girl can win…like this.” his fingers slid past the hem of your shorts. 

It was supposed to be just another quiet night. you, your switch, and your nerdy boyfriend with messy hair and a half-finished soda on the table. you were in his lap, like always, thighs straddling his left one, back against his chest. His glasses were crocked because of your head resting on the side of his face. his hands had been resting, harmlessly, mid-thigh.

but tonight it seems like they had a mind of their own. his palms slided up, awkward at first, like he was working up the nerve. and once he brushed your inner thigh and felt how warm you were—how you were already grinding a little without realizing, he sucked in a shaky breath.

“y-you’re, um…" he chuckled nervously, “you're kinda…really…wet already. that's-uh- that's cute.” you can feel how red his ears are. can hear the shaky exhale he lets out as he presses two fingers against the damp fabric of your panties.

you tried to focus on the screen, but his fingers pushed beneath your panties, hesitant but hungry, dragging along your slit with a low groan. his voice was uneven when he spoke again—like he was trying to sound teasing but couldn't hide how wrecked he was.

“wh-what kind of gamer gets this needy holding a controller?” he stammered.

you jolted, hips twitching into his touch, and he gasped softly against your neck—his cock straining against his sweats, and he bit down on a shaky moan.

“i—fuck, wait—don’t cum yet,” he breathed out quickly, as if panicked by how close you already felt. “you—you can’t. not unless you beat the level. that’s the rule.”

you whimpered, legs trembling, gripping the controller tighter as his fingers toyed with your clit in little circles. It was almost clumsy but somehow that made it worse. and the nerdy tone he used—the one when explaining game stats or why a manga panel made him cry—being used, now, to deny your orgasm was really hot.

“i just—it's stupid, but i get turned on seeing you so focused,” he admitted, voice breaking with a shy laugh. “you always look so serious when you play, and i just—kinda wanna mess that up…” when you buck forward, your hips grinding down onto the firm flex of his thigh, he gasps like he’s the one being touched.

“you’re—ngh—you’re seriously doing that on my leg?” His voice cracks in disbelief, cock twitching in his pants. “d-didn’t know you l-liked that…”

his hand creeps up under your shirt with all the subtlety of a boy who’s fantasized about this a thousand times. he palms your breast awkwardly at first, afraid he’ll mess it up, but once his fingers find your nipple—he’s not shy anymore.

he groans, deep and sharp, twisting the sensitive bud between two fingers. “f-fuck, that's so soft,” he breathes. “you're not allowed to b-be this soft when i'm trying…when i'm trying to be m-mean.”

your hands are trembling, buttons mashed half-heartedly as he toys with you like you're his favorite collectible. the pleasure clouds everything. your character on screen stumbles, gets hit, and before you can react—

game over. you freeze, the screen flashes in cruel pixelated defeat.

gojo blinks, “you lost?” his voice is unfortunately too high to be cocky, too breathless to be smug.."c-c'mon you're supposed to be my elite little gamer." you squirm in his lap, frustration boiling in your cheeks—not just from the lost, but also from the aching throb between your legs. “you k-kept distracting me!”

he hums, almost pathetic. then he presses two fingers against your clit, “close doesn't count,” he whispers as he pinches, a sharp flick to your swollen bud. the arm around your chest tightens, his thumb rolling your nipple like it's a fidget toy.

you whine, your head drop on his shoulder, “i w-will win.”

“that's ma girl,” he kisses your temple before licking a stripe behind your ear. “b-but until then…” he presses his thigh up, grinding it into your core while teasing your nipple between sharp tugs. “you're m-mine to play with.”

your fingers tighten around the controller, eyes locked on the screen. and every time you press a button, he mirrors it with a flick or a pinch or a firm grind of his thigh into your pulsing heat.

“shit—satoru,” you breathe, trying to keep your avatar alive.

“keep g-going, you're doing just r-right." he mutters, voice shaky. his glasses are fogged, his hands aren't steady, and his cock is rock-hard beneath you, straining uselessly against his sweats as your soaked core grinds down, again and again, onto his tense thigh.

“you wanna cum?” he asks as he licks the shell of your ear—shaky and wrecked. “t-then win… be my good gamer girl. beat the boss f'me, please...” he presses down harder, rubs the letters W-I-N in slow motion on your sensitive bundle. the pressure is maddening—never enough, always just shy of what you need—and it drags you into the haze of overstimulation.

the motion causes your character to stumble, again, and the screen flashes—again. 

gojo groans, high-pitched. “babyyy—c'mon, you can do better,” he pants, cock twitching. “th-that's a little pathetic, don't make me beg f'you to win…”

you try to grind against his hand, desperate and needy to soothe the ach between your legs. “p-please—satoruu, just let me,”

he chokes out a laugh—breathless and delirious—his grip on your nipple tightens, making you whimper. “s-sowwyyy,” he mumbles, but it sounds more like an apology from someone completely gone. “rules are—ah!—rules, i gotta stick to 'em, right?”

but you lose. again and again.

and by the fourth try, you're barely able to see straight. your legs are trembling, pussy drooling over his pants, leaving an enormous wet patch on his thigh.

he buries his face against your neck, glasses slipping sideways, voice a ragged mess of broken need. “we’ll keep playing,” he groans, like it physically pains him, “until my perfect gamer girl learns to beat the boss while g-getting ruined so bad she forgets her own name.” you moan uncontrollably at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes.

his nose nudges your temple, “you sound so pretty when you whine like that.” his voice is so soft. “you feel even better.” your grinding gets slower, deeper, and gojo's hands go from gripping your breasts to fumbling—desperately—with the waistband of your shorts. 

“he-he, wait—" his sentence breaks off in a cracked moan as his thumb drives back to your panties, finding your clit, drawing unfocused circles like he's forgotten what rhythm even is. his face is flushed, so desperate it's almost pitiful—fingers slipping and smearing your slick everywhere, breathing out broken pleas between every twitch. “y-you're so wet, i can't—fuck—i can't—t-this is so fucked up, i can't think—”

gojo groans through his teeth, his whole frame trembling. “fuuuuuck, y-you gotta stop, i'm-i’m…gonna…” he's desperately trying to keep it together but failing spectaculary. his cock jerking under you with every buck. “s-shouldn't feel this good—fucking h-hell, i'm gonna cum—gonna cum in m-my pants…OHSHITOHSHITFUCKSHITFUUUCK”

his whole body jerks, sudden and absolutely out of his control. an embarrassed moan bursts his lips as he ruts up against your ass—cumming hard, painting the inside of his sweats in sticky heat. his cock twitches helplessly, completely untouched. he whimpers your name into your shoulder like it's a confession. his glasses slip right off, forgotten, as his head lolls against you.

gojo still tries to move his fingers on your stimulated clit, as his mouth leaves open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder. he draggs his hand up back to your hardened tits—palming your breasts, rubbing, squeezing, thumbing your nipples with pure, overwhelmed need.

“we're not done,” he groans, like it's hurting him that you're not cumming. “you're dripping all o-over m'thigh, i c-came like a loser—please, win already, pretty.” he whines, “i-i'll help, i swear, just—fuck—win!”

his hand never stills. slippery fingers flick your clit in desperate, uneven motions, his other hand clutching your tits like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. you’re drooling against his neck now, wrecked and teetering on the edge, and gojo’s crying out every time you shift your weight.

“win,” he sobs, high and broken. “win, baby, please—i’ll cum again too, I will, I’m so close again, y-you feel sogood—“

And the boss’s health bar drops. One last combo. You slam the button.

Victory!!!!

you’re shaking, grinding down with abandon, the game forgotten for just one second—because it’s too much. he’s still whispering praise like he’s praying, hips jerking like he might cum in any second just from the way you clench around nothing. you scream, messy and guttural, because you need it—need him—and it’s all spilling over.

“'t-toru, i win—please, w-wanna cum—please ‘toru—pleaseee,” tears streak down your cheeks as you sob into his neck, twitching with every stroke, every messy rub of his soaked fingers. “c-can’t—’toru, i can’t—too much, ‘s too much—“

he’s not stopping. he whimpers your name, glassy eyes locked on your face memorizing every broken cry that falls from your lips. “you won, y-you get to cum now—I have to make you cum—” he sounds just as wrecked as you, maybe worse. his fingers finally slip inside—two of them, thick and long—he curls them immediately, searching that spongy spot, desperate to please you.

your walls clamp around him so tight he nearly cums again. bullet of sweats are dropping down his neck as he wines, “y-you're squeezing me reallyy good—shit” his breath stutters against your neck, sobbing out broken, pathetic moans as his fingers drag over that spot again and again.

“Let go for me,” he begs. “Please, please, I need you to—need to feel you cum, please, baby—" you're a mess in his lap, crying and convulsing, thighs slick and shaking—his fingers keep pistoning you as he babbles some uncoherent praise and filth against your hot skin.

“g-gonna make you cum so hard,” he pants, sounding half-feral. “gonna feel you soak m-my fingers, fuck—wan’ it messy, baby, wan’ it loud—”

and when you do, when your body snaps and you wail into his shoulder, soaking his hand in a gush of warmth—he lets out the filthiest, most broken moan you’ve ever heard as he cums a second time.

 Unprompted. Pathetically. Just from feeling your cunt pulse around his fingers.

[super-done-dead]

got a drawing tablet! cannot for the life of me get the pen pressure to work. tired. wip

if anyone has a pirated photoshop cs5 or cs6 for mac.... lmk... gimp is doing my head in

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware!Rafayel x Down-bad!Player

Rafayel becoming aware he's a game character and becoming aware of you as well pt. 2 here A/N: Don't fight me

Self-Aware!Rafayel who realizes he’s in a game when he can hear your echoing giggles as you poke his butt. “Are you laughing at me?” you think nothing of it just assuming its another voiceline “He’s so dramatic” You mutter to yourself “Im not dramatic!” You chuck your phone across the room and stare at it with your eyes bugging out of your head and your hand covering your mouth. “You didn’t have to throw me”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who blows your phone up when you take too long to reply. “What are you doing?? Do you send me a text and then throw your phone in the ocean?” “I have shit to do Raf!” “Do I not matter to you?” He finds a way to actually video call you and now thats his favorite form of communication. He pouts when you tell him you need to charge your phone because it's about to die. “The batteries in your world are terrible how long is this charging going to take?” You pat his head as you giggle “give me 30 minutes at least”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who has a fifteen minute existential crisis when he realizes he’s just pixels “What?! Am I gonna die if your phone dies?! If im not real how am I talking to you??” “I don’t fucking know Raf you’re the one who randomly broke the fourth wall one day”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who judges people with you in public for a laugh “Please tell me you heard that” “Yea a whole wife and child on the side is crazy”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who didn't understand your SpongeBob jokes an now its his favorite cartoon after watching it on FaceTime with you. He's constantly making SpongeBob jokes as well now. "What are you eating?" "A Milky Way" "What's that?" "A chocolate bar with caramel-" "Chocolate? I remember when they first invented chocolate" "I bet you do...." "😐"

Self-Aware!Rafayel who paints portraits of you and saves them in your album. He finds himself constantly using you as his muse every time he picks up a brush. “Why don’t you paint MC anymore?” “I may or may not have someone else swimming through my mind”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who feels comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you since you already know his history. He told himself not to fall for you and is now driving himself crazy wishing he’d made a binding vow with you instead

Rafayel: Maybe your souls got mixed up and I was supposed to be with you Y/N: I don’t think that’s how that works Raf you were made to find her in every life Rafayel: ……but it feels like I was meant to find you

Self-Aware!Zayne Self-Aware!Xavier Self-Aware!Sylus Self-Aware!Caleb

[snail-day]

Nanami doesn't understand Minecraft. The appeal. The garish colors, the jagged edges. A sky made of squares, a sun that moved in awkward, ticking motions. (Something you claimed to be lag?) It was like staring into a world that hadn’t finished rendering. No plot. No rules. No real purpose. Just…blocks.

He had better things to do. Things with structure, routine. A glass of wine, a warm light, a novel in hand. You tucked into his side while he read aloud, your body slowly going slack with sleep, trusting him to hold you there.

That was comfort. That was meaningful. Yet, when you’d asked him to play, with your voice bright and teasing and just a little hopeful, he didn’t say no. Your pout being rather convincing.

“The movie’s coming out soon,” you’d said. “You can’t go in blind.” “Ten minutes,” you’d bargained, tugging on the sleeve of his linen shirt. “Just ten.”

So here he was.

The gentle sound of footsteps in grass tapped from the speakers - flop, flop, flop. He moved through a clumsy world, bumping into trees, accidentally crafting buttons instead of planks. A cow lowed in the distance, slow and strangely calming. Nearby, soft music drifted in, simple piano notes, echoing into the abyss of the lonely world.

Nanami narrowed his eyes. He hated how his character’s arms flailed when he walked. Hated how the pickaxe floated in midair, like it wasn’t even touching anything. The game defying the natural laws. Was deforestation what you called a good time?

But you were leaning into his side now, draped in the oversized cardigan he’d folded over the couch for you. Your head rested on his shoulder, your body warm against his, legs tucked under you like a sleepy cat. You were watching him, tired, content, eyes starting to flutter closed.

He pressed another key.

The sound of mining echoed - chink, chink, chink. Stone cracked apart in perfect cubes - plop, plop, plop. Gathering each one carefully. When he’d collected enough, he opened the building menu, fingers moving slower now, searching through the recipes.

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Loading minecraft wiki on a tab.

The house came first. Something modest but stable. No asymmetry. No ugly floating roofs like the ones you’d shown him with pride earlier that day. He used cobblestone for the frame, added a wooden roof and glass windows, and placed lanterns precisely two blocks apart along the walls.

Inside, he built shelves. Lined with books and a small fireplace in the corner. The fire crackled, low and soft, pixel sparks dancing upward. The sound of it mixed with the slow, soothing soundtrack and the gentle sounds of squids swimming (more like dying) on the beach.

He planted wheat outside on a grass patch. A small, efficient garden. You claimed there was carrots, potatoes, beets. A search for another day.

And when he found a cat - tiny, pixelated, meowing once with a high-pitched chirp - he coaxed it inside with fish and told it to sit by the fire.

You shifted against him, murmuring something soft, unintelligible, your hand unconsciously finding his and curling around it.

His chest ached.

This game…wasn’t so pointless after all.

It wasn’t about the blocks. It was about the quiet in-between. The safety. The fact that he could create a space just for you, even in this ridiculous little world. A place where the light never went out and the cat always waited by the fire.

Nanami glanced down at your sleeping form, thumb brushing your knuckles.

You deserved that.

You deserved everything.

“…You’re lucky I love you,” he said softly, kissing the crown of your head, barely above a whisper. The cat let out a quiet mrrp. Nanami, with a ghost of a smile, planted a flower by the window.

[gracie-eilish]

A cute, fluffy, funny request of reader’s vision starting to blur and needs to wear glasses, but she’s very stubborn and refuses to wear them, which leads to several mishaps.

clearlyyy in love

an: love the glasses wearer representation🙂‍↕️🤓

It started with little things.

Street signs looking a bit fuzzier. Your texts needed to be in bigger font. The subtitles on your favorite show—suddenly… off while the volume was louder than usual.

You tried to brush it off at first, convinced it was just bad lighting or a smudge on your screen or maybe you were just tired.

But Billie noticed.

She always noticed.

“Babe,” she said one morning, as you blinked hard at your laptop screen and leaned in like an inchworm. “Why are you basically making out with the monitor right now?”

You looked up, flustered. “What? I’m just… focusing.”

She tilted her head. “You sure? Because I swear you were trying to count the pixels.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “It’s fine. My eyes are just tired.”

“Mmm,” Billie hummed, not convinced. “I’m making you an eye appointment.”

And just like that, you were booked.

You went, of course. Because Billie had that mix of puppy-dog eyes and I’m-not-kidding tone that always made you fold. And sure enough—blurry vision, headaches, eye strain…….

Yeah. You needed glasses.

You were not thrilled.

You texted Billie the second you left the appointment:

you were right. i need glasses. i’m upset.

She texted back two seconds later:

why are you upset??? you’re gonna look cute as hell.

also, now you’ll stop tripping over everything. that’s a win for us all.

And honestly? She was kind of right. About both things.

The tripping had become a minor hazard, and even though you were reluctant, the first time you tried on frames in the optometrist’s office, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and… huh.

Not bad.

You chose a pair. Classic. Pretty. Soft around the edges but with just enough personality. Billie met you at home later that evening and lit up like you’d just told her she won a surprise Grammy.

“Oh my God,” she gasped the second she saw you in them, dropping her keys on the counter. “You’re so cute I could die.”

You gave her a skeptical look. “They’re not weird?”

She practically teleported to you, grabbing your face gently, tilting your chin. “No, they’re perfect. You’re perfect. I can see your pretty little eyes even better now.”

You blushed. She smirked. Balance was restored.

That night, you wore them proudly. Even watched a movie without squinting once. Billie held your hand the whole time and kept sneaking glances at you like you’d just grown fairy wings.

But the next day?

You… “forgot”.

And then the day after that?

You “accidentally” left them on your nightstand again.

The truth was, you liked them—but they still felt a little unfamiliar, a little too new. Sometimes they slid down your nose. Sometimes they got smudged. And sometimes, you just felt too stubborn to admit that you needed them at all.

Billie, ever patient, clocked it.

So when she came into the kitchen one morning to find you staring helplessly at your phone, holding it two inches away from your face with furrowed brows and a crumpled forehead?

She sighed. Softly. Lovingly. Sternly.

“Where are your glasses, baby?”

You froze. “Uhhh… somewhere?”

“Somewhere,” she repeated, stepping closer, plucking the phone from your hand and squinting dramatically. “Trying to decipher texts like it’s a secret code from 1942?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t be a brat.”

She grinned. “Don’t be stubborn.”

You folded your arms. “They’re just annoying sometimes.”

Billie walked over and put her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“I get that,” she said gently. “But I need you to see. Like, for real. For your safety. And also—selfishly—for me. Because I love looking into your eyes and knowing you can really look back.”

You softened at that. “You’re too good at this.”

“I know,” she said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Also, you left them on the bathroom counter. I brought them with me.”

She pulled them from her pocket like a magician. You groaned.

“You’re relentless.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” she corrected, slipping them gently onto your face. “Sue me.”

You blinked. The room came into focus again. The fuzz disappeared. Billie’s face—smug and gorgeous—was crystal clear.

She leaned in, smiling. “There’s my girl.”

You shook your head, trying not to smile.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

She smirked. “Oh, I know. Now come on. Let’s go outside and you can actually see the flowers I planted for you.”

You rolled your eyes (now with 20/20 clarity), letting her take your hand and lead you into the sunshine.

That afternoon, Billie kept sneaking photos of you in your glasses while you sat on the back porch sipping iced tea and reading a book, muttering, “God, you’re cute,” every five minutes.

That evening, she kissed the bridge of your nose—right where your glasses sat—and whispered, “These just give me one more reason to fall in love with you again every day.”

And that night, you didn’t forget to wear them.

You didn’t even want to.

Because Billie was right. Again.

Clear vision was nice. But seeing her—really seeing her—and knowing she loved you through it all? That was the most beautiful thing of all.

[retquits]

I really liked the pixel style potrait you made for the fields of mistria wiki! do you have any tips on recreating the mistria pixel art style?

oh this will be fun! i have a few sprites i'm working on that we can use for examples. for the sake of time, i won't touch on the very basics of pixel art - like not doubling up on pixels, etc. let's go!!

1. if you're not usually a pixel artist, sketch your portraits in the fields of mistria style at your usual size/with your usual brushes first! you can just resize them when you're ready to pixel:

2. carefully study the art style before and as you're working on it! there are a lot of key little details that will help the art feel more , such as the (usually) single tone shading, general jewel tones of the style, and interior lines:

2.5. keep references on the same canvas as your portrait to check for style/size consistency:

3. keep one window zoomed out so that you can always see the bigger picture. with pixel art it feels easy to get lost in tiny details, i find it really helps to see the art in its final size as i'm working - it's very grounding:

^ this portrait was the first one i ever made, and i learned a lot! i'm not a pixel artist by any means, and a lot of what i do is trial and error, but i LOVE style studies. i hope that this was at least a little helpful! 💛