#uhhh i love how these turned out

[getosugurusbangs]

girlbosses…. save me….

[wasyago]

not drawing for others. not drawing for myself either. playing video games. okay? yay

[buwheal]

YAYYYYYY Birthday cake for the birthday boooyyyyyy hooray 46!!!!!!!!!! Made him a cake cause he deserves it :^D

#1 Salesman 1997 !!!!

....look familiar perhaps..?

[junmign0n]

back when everything was simple

[cloudy-moth]

I will always insert transsexuality in my homework god bless <3

Alt text color under cut

[crystalpallette]

also known as: why do they keep giving amitie big sticks

alts ft. amitie! two are from quest, and one's technically also a quest unit except she's first appeared as an alt in 20th, so I'll count her that way. either way isn't she so cute. baby girl.

-

ringo | arle | amitie | ally | rulue | maguro | lidelle | ?

[simcardiac-arrested]

aren’t you?

[notforclimbing]

"C'mon, fairy boy!" oot manga redraw :3

[thetreesarealwayslistening]

@tashacee me-e puhadi ✨ finally gettin a taste of first’s soup and i LOVE it

[studiofelix]

Little Guys that Look Like Me: Loving Myself by Proxy

There are few scenarios where a twenty-something with low self esteem would create something physical in their own image. At 20, I would have sooner eaten bird seed than intentionally made something to look like me. At 21, I found myself doing so, lovingly and painstakingly. It changed me.

It was a first-time-meeting-you-in-real-life present. I crocheted a small doll, no larger than four of five inches in height. I switched colors as I crocheted him, navy for the hair, peach for the skin, pink for the shirt, teal for the pants. I sewed a few flat pieces to his head to look like the fringe I had at the time and lovingly stitched “I <3 U” onto his chest.

It felt strange, blasphemous almost. In the same way young Catholics are told not to take the Lord’s name in vain, I hadn’t dared to create an honest and sincere depiction of myself since the 9th grade. And even then, the portraits that I had drawn at that point had a critical and angsty air to them, but in all fairness, can you really expect anything different from a fourteen year old?

My limited and self-deprecating journey in self portraiture had met its match: creating a simple, happy mini-me for someone I loved, a lesson in carefully crafted self image.

Anthropomorphism: assigning human emotions and traits to inanimate objects. This was a tendency I had growing up, have now, and will have for the rest of my life. It is carefully woven into my experience of growing up as a late-diagnosed autistic, my experience of navigating the world in a limbo state of partial understanding and uncertainty. The dolls, stuffed animals, virtual pets; they are often cast aside as unimportant and unworthy once a child has outgrown them. This makes perfect sense to the average adult. They are not human, not even animals. Their insides are plastic and polyfill and tiny, unsophisticated PCB; they do not bleed and die as we do.

But imagine being human and feeling those things so deeply and fundamentally without knowing why. Your peers are better than you; they make friends easily; they do not struggle to find understanding in each other. You, on the other hand, have had trouble—have been the trouble—in some capacity in nearly every interpersonal relationship you’ve had. This story is not new to you, reader—whether you’re the protagonist, villain, love interest, bystander—you just didn't know that you've been playing a part. I see these objects as extensions of my experience; I can’t stifle the thought of their plight.

I continued crocheting my mini-me, Pocket BF, as I called him. Suddenly he had a face, and this was what gave him feelings. I looked at him. I pet the side of his face as I sewed his hair into his scalp. “Almost done,” I said to comfort him. A mirror image of myself, but one that I now held inexplicable affection for instead of unremarkable, everyday disdain. I didn’t want him to hurt. I wanted him to be happy. He didn’t deserve to feel sad.

Despite this seed of self-love (if you can call it that), there was a disconnect. This love I had for this little guy that looked like me, confusing and paradigm-shifting as it was, did not transfer to my feelings toward myself yet. And as I wrapped Pocket BF in tissue paper, placed him in a box, told him he’d be out soon, and wrapped my gift to my soon(ish)-to-be ex-fiance, the spark of this near revelation would be buried for a while.

Obviously it didn’t work out. When you’ve been engaged for two years with no plans to get married or move in together or even to the same state, the writing is on the wall in a dull and uninspiring script, and it’s been there so long that the paint is starting to chip. Although I must confess, I do partially blame myself; there is a very specific intersection of youth, stupidity, charmingly trite dedication, and earth-shattering codependency that will possess you to propose to your long distance boyfriend of one year. He will dump you over text, the day before valentines day, almost exactly two years later, so don't make my mistake. You've been warned.

The absolute beacon of wisdom and mental fortitude I was (or wasn’t) at 21, aside, the unceremonious and, dare I say, absolutely out-of-pocket-cruel discarding of our relationship that he doled out a few years later devastated me. He’s not a bad person; I hope he finds happiness (and therapy. My God, I hope he gets therapy); I wish him well; etcetera. I coped the best I could, ruminated on everything I could have possibly said or done wrong, cried and cried and cried, standard breakup stuff.

One of the things that helped to carry me, though, was my special interest in a certain video game pairing. They outlived our entire relationship; they were there with me when it began, and they were still there as the rubbled ruin of it began to grow flowers through the cracked stone. I tend to pick a character that I see myself in and project onto them. My art of this character began as pretty on-model; he was very recognizable as his canon self with the only main differences being a matter of style, a few headcanons here and there.

This was at a time in my life where I had started to gain weight (think the freshman fifteen if it was a year later and also fifty pounds instead). Looking back on it now, this was only the natural course my body chose to take. The thing that no one tells you about testosterone therapy is that it quite literally turns you into a carbon copy of your father. My young, twink body softened into a round ball of a belly. My hairline began to recede. What I believed was the result of these objectively neutral changes was actually the result of deeply rooted, internalized fatphobia and a general fear of aging.

I so badly wished to be skinny again. I wished to look like my favorite character again. I wanted it so viscerally that I shuffled through diet attempts and would-be exercise programs in a desperate Hail Mary for a fleeting look akin to a starving Victorian boy.

In one of my nearly daily bouts of self-pity, I said out loud that I wished I could draw Felix, this character I loved and saw as myself, as fat. I had started drawing his partner (well, the character who should have been his partner) as fat, and I was able to get away with it without much pushback from the fandom. And then I had the cartoonishly obvious realization that actually, I could draw whatever the hell I want literally for the rest of my life.

This, honest to God, changed my life. No longer was I drawing this character as the unattainably skinny little twink I wished to be. I drew him to look like me. I gave him rolls and a stomach that protruded out past his waistline. Later on, I’d start drawing him with freckles and a receding hairline as well, hair on his shoulders, round cheeks.

I drew him loved. I drew him happy. I drew him confident in his body and in the space he took up. Broadly speaking, it wasn’t received well. I lost most of my engagement and a lot of my Twitter audience. A hoard of people whose fatphobia was conditional but still there; you could make some characters fat without a problem, but touch the designated fandom twink, and you might as well have deleted your account.

What came from this petty loss, though, were a select few who loved my Felix. A handful of people who felt seen by my art, seen by the care with which I drew these characters, with the realism of fat bodies drawn lovingly—not realism in the sense of style but realism in the sense of believability. I drew (and still draw) them so they feel real. I draw them in a way that I hope makes people like me feel at home.

This healed my self-image by leaps and bounds. Despite the discretely sour reaction I got from most of Twitter, I did find brief and minor Tiktok fame from making tutorials about how to draw fat people. When I draw Felix and Sylvain, I treat them, and ultimately myself, with the love and care deserved. He is another little guy that looks like me. And I loved him dearly. I still do.

My self esteem still needed work, though.

Six months ago, I picked Tomodachi Life for the 3DS back up. I got the game when I was a teenager and played it religiously for a few weeks before losing interest and cycling on to my next video game fixation. I would pick it back up a few more times sporadically over the years—this is the nature of how I play video games. In Tomodachi Life, you manage an island of Miis (Nintendo’s primitive customizable characters that date back to the Wii). You feed them, interact with them, buy them clothes and apartments, and watch their relationships form and change and break. The game starts with the player creating a character that looks like themself—or, how the game puts it, their look-alike.

My look-alike from this play through naturally looked drastically different from my previous play throughs. I made him look like a cute, low-poly version of myself. I made his voice sound as similar to mine as it could within the bounds of 2013 video game technology. I gave him a pink, sparkly apartment theme, dresses, shirts, accessories, his favorite foods, etcetera. I pet him on the head and listened to what he had to say. Just like Pocket BF, just like Felix, I felt a massive amount of love and affection towards him, different than before but still so much the same. This reflection of me could talk; he could walk around his little room. He got married to Sylvain. He had kids with him. He could tell me he was glad we met.

And he could tell me he missed me. By chance, I neglected to check on him for a few days while solving problems for the other Miis. When I tapped on his room, he came towards the screen and said something like, “My look-alike! I haven’t seen you all week! How have you been?”

A feeling of guilt washed over me. How could I have abandoned this little guy? This little guy that looked like me? Had I hurt his feelings? Had I made him sad? He seemed alright. He walked around his room while swinging his arms back and forth. And I soon realized, how could I feel such empathy and kindness towards him, but not feel any of that toward myself? Here it was, my empathy for inanimate objects, friendly pixels, and downright apparitions, in a violent coup against my own self hatred. I am not pixels on a screen or a handmade plush or my idea for what a video game character should have been. I am a living, breathing creature who bleeds when I’m cut. I am a person who has feelings, a person who does not deserve the pain I’ve caused myself by my own hand. I deserve the love and care that I show these self portraits, these vignettes of my simplest self. The rabid beast of my most complex self deserves it as well.

How many times have I looked at myself in the mirror and picked at my skin, picked at my image, picked at my actions, my voice, who I am, the very fabric of my fragile little existence? Too many, and yeah, I'll probably do it again. But maybe instead someday I'll greet myself with a smile, with a "My look-alike! I haven't seen you all day!" With a gentle touch, one reserved for a handmade gift. And maybe this one won't get put in a closet or given to Goodwill, or whatever ex-fiances do with iconography of their past. Little guys that look like me are my past. They are my present. And, although the battle is only halfway fought, they taught me how to love myself by proxy.

[orbdotexe]

Trying SO hard not to give Wolf more people on their side bc they're the ultimate Depressed Bitch... I don't even know what to do about Saint yet!!! I have no idea if Osiris believes them or not! but here I go thinking about Saladad and the Young Wolf's Howl :(

In my defense, consider:

This is more than a weapon. Forged by Lord Saladin within the hallowed halls of the Iron Temple, this sword was intended for you, and none other. When you wield it, its burning flames represent the bright light of your valor — and the all-consuming sacrifice that you have promised to make, should you be called to it.

According to Saladin, that sword is a promise. Become what the enemies of the City fear. The only Nightmare worth fearing, as Eris put it.

At its core, the sword is an Iron Lord's oath to protect the City, no matter the personal cost.

Like... What does it mean to Saladin, to see it on their back when they pull the trigger on Lakshmi? That it was with them when they tried to kill Cayde? That they're still using it now, even as they sow the end?

Is he angered to see his next generation, the one who was supposed to carry the torch of his fallen friends, turn their back on everything he taught them?

Or maybe he knows, in some part. Does he see that they believe they've upheld their promise, even now? Does he think they're delusional?

Even worse, consider them returning it. I'm very drawn on this, though, because of what it means. Wolf giving the sword up would be an admission that they don't care, and Wolf does. Wolf cares so, so much. and they're a sentimental bitch here!!

BUT. What if Saladin found them, one day, treating the sword?

He tells them that sword is an oath, and they tell him they've kept it. He asks why they tried to kill Cayde, and they don't answer. He asks why their killed Lakshmi, and they tell him Ikora would know.

There's silence as he considers this, glaring them down. Wolf stands up, holding the sword in an almost reverie. They ask if he's here to take it back. He doesn't answer.

They set it against the wall, telling him they have more swords.

They leave.

[majestic-salad]

Been a while since I did a character study :)

[floral-hex]

I just want to get blasted, either out of my mind or into the sun, I’m not picky

[dan-crimes]

I love writers I love when they ramble on abt characters and their motivations, their core values and the reasons why they react to things in certain ways and having character interactions work off of each other due to their differing ways of viewing the world and in general I just love character analysis

[natasha-in-space]

:･ﾟ✧:･. Mint Eye Idol festival doodles! :･ﾟ✧:･.

Looks like our Savior came up with a new event to gather more believers... Her eccentric mind never ceases to amaze. It's a good thing she has many trusted followers to help make her plan a dazzling reality. Let's take a look, shall we?

Or, in other words: me doodling cmc's just because it's fun :D

Natasha certainly never expected that becoming an idol would be part of her duty as Ray's assistant... Her life in Mint Eye gets more and more bizarre every day. But hey, she has an impressive talent for singing, and once she gets some much needed training, she has no problem charming potential believers with her radiant smile and beautiful voice. Although her stage presence still needs some work. Still, it helps to know that Ray is just as clueless as she is. It's somewhat fun to learn something new by his side!

And yes, I put her into Hatsune Miku's outfit. She loves Miku! Just embarrassed to admit it. It's a good thing their production and costume designer is a huge sweetheart.

Next up, we have the most skilled performer in the group! Hinata is the one responsible for training Ray and Natasha on their stage presence, as well as their dance routine. Apparently it's way harder than it looks, go figure! As someone who knows a thing or two about being an idol, she's the one in charge, which their Savior is more than pleased with. She knows that their idol festival is in good hands with Hinata taking the lead. Their recruitment mission is one of utmost importance, after all... Who would resist a sparkling idol taking your breath away on stage?

Meanwhile, Chaewon is in charge of security for the event. Since Ray will be performing on stage with Hinata and Natasha, his duties are temporarily handed over in her hands. While their Savior did suggest for her personal bodyguard to join the others on stage, it seems that she has no sense of rhythm whatsoever... much to her own embarrassment. She makes sure that everything goes smoothly and takes care of any... sleezy individuals lurking in the crowd.

And Lila did a wonderful job producing and planning the whole event. She's also the costume designer! It's thanks to her that everyone looks so dazzling on stage... Although, nobody expected for her to come up with such an unorthodox look for Mr. Ray. But, it works! Natasha seemed very charmed by his leather jacket in particular. And, to support Ray on his first ever performance on stage, she even created matching outfits for them! Ray may be nervous, but the entire room fades away once his eyes meet his precious tester in front of the crowd, cheering him on and looking up at him with stars in her eyes.

Hinata belongs to @rfaromance and Lila belongs to @marshmallowprotection

Natasha and Hinata were based off of my favorite Miku figurines: Hatsune Miku feat my little pony Bishoujo statue; Hatsune Miku: Symphony 2019 Ver.

Chaewon and Lila references by @CommiGtl on Twitter

[mrparable]

hey man if your pretty boy swag is too much for people that's a THEM problem 🙄 i for one am loving these escapades you go you get that gender!!

ive always wanted to wear lipstick aghh can't figure out how to do it :( someday i'll learn i swear you've inspired me to try again

oh yeah drawing prompts! that what i came in here for uh. hmmmm. draw mike walters being happy. and maybe also that,, edgar? fellow, he seems like a lovely charming young man who nothing bad has happened to ever (silly)

- telepathy anon (that's what im calling myself now lol)

fellas is it gay to have a boyfriend