#wip: italy

[peridotglimmer]

One of the joys of having a toddler who likes to kidnap your phone, is that he helps write your fics:

That's the most creative Italian I've ever seen. Thanks kiddo.

[first-of-july]

[cowboy-robooty]

day 3 of no double fisted gorilla grip rip the skin off homemade circumcision style jacking off (reference to evilvillain123456789 post)

[maxxi-the-procrastinator]

The Grand Tour

Interactive fiction novel.

Demo: First chapter to be released soon.

You play as the main character, Avery Sinclair, a young historian who has been invited to travel across the continent to join their younger brother; John Sinclair, on his coming of age grand tour. Avery jumps on the opportunity to excavate and uncover the hidden history behind the bronze age collapse. Thrusting their journey into a pleasing combination of business and pleasure.

On the tour the Sinclair siblings are accompanied and chaperoned by the bear-leader; Thomas Clark, his fiancee; Willow Button and Avery’s best friend; Landon Harrow. On their travels, Avery runs into a couple familiar faces from their college days, reigniting rivalries that they believed were left to the past.

Will Avery be able to uncover the hidden history lost to time, or will they become distracted as unexpected romance blossoms during their tour? Can Avery juggle this tantalising mix of business and pleasure? Or will hearts be broken across the continent in their wake?

Romantic tropes of each route; Landon Harrow ~ Friends to Lovers. Thomas Clark ~ Friends to strangers to lovers. Willow Button ~ Forbidden romance. Pierre Moreau ~ Rivals to lovers. Love triangle ~ Landon and Pierre.

[little-sillie]

wip sketch of Italy and Holy Roman Empire, I love their outfit sketches from after chibitalia and wish they interacted...

[ask2pame]

wip but look how far we've come ..... 2019? > 2024

[individualbug]

wips of screencap redraws that I probably won't finish, at least not anytime soon lmao. I lost motivation to draw anything mid way through these, I was staring at these same unfinished drawings for so long it was killing me. And then I almost got taken out by a tornado, its been fun lmaooo

I still wanna finish these, purely out of spite. Maybe one day :3

[heedzhee-art]

really long ago I attempted to make sprites for a Romano dst character mod

so far I have ideas for giving him some cooking/farming-related perks, ability to throw tomatoes at enemies, and also a useless button that makes him complain when pressed aka the bitсhing button

[ariaovon]

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

wips for illustrations I'm doing for my portfolio 💖

(Final piece for Spamano—the green one (x)) (Final piece for Sabolaw—the gay one (x))

[temtamtom]

Who’s he looking at with them big ‘ol eyes?

I’m alive! Just got an iPad and I’m learning the procreate ropes. Drawing Feli with his head turned and with a nice neck is my thing now, I guess

WIP

[peridotglimmer]

I have so many feelings about the newest update of the Italy fic. And I'm the person who wrote it ffs.

[mangofresca]

detritus

“I dreamt that you died last night,” he said suddenly, and Romano half-turned, surprised at the admission, at the tonelessness of it, that emotionless void a chasm he almost fell into, tangible in its brusqueness. He’d been strange all day, oddly quiet and unsettlingly depressed, barely speaking to any of them, always one step behind Romano, with hands in clenched fists and a mouth set in a bitter frown, every inch the raging empire in collapse.

Somehow, Romano knew that his fingernails would leave dark crescents in his palms. He wondered if Spain even noticed the pain. He wondered if Spain even counted it as pain at all, considering all else he’d been through. All else he’d caused.

Romano blinked, floundered, mouth opening and closing around a voice he couldn’t seem to find, the air in his lungs leaden enough to stay with him, refusing to leave, heavy and cloying. Not that it matters, his mind supplied. Nothing you can say will change anything. He knows that.

Spain stared into the distance, skin illuminated in tangerine and fire beneath the radiant sky of sunset, eyes locked on a horizon they had walked beneath for decades, centuries, dancing around willowing orange trees and sleeping beneath midday haze. Romano wondered what Spain saw when he looked out at a landscape of memories turned antique with change. Romano wondered what Spain saw when he looked at him.

He didn’t say anything, only watched Spain stare into the rolling fields of a land Romano would never call his own.

“Y’know what the worst part is?” Spain’s voice was soft, feather-light and delicate, only just carried from bloodied lips to Romano’s ears through a breeze scented with citrus and perfidy. “When I woke up, I felt disappointed that it was just a dream.”

The air in Romano’s body felt poisonous, rancid, fetid with betrayal and hurt and a grief so profound it felt tangible, like a mass within his body that he could hold, mold, could wrap his fingers around and see the validation of his sorrow. Like he could hold it out to Spain as proof of his apology, words he could never say lost to the inevitability of the future, a timeline of events to which he could only play spectator.

Romano supposed he should be glad Spain hated him. Maybe at one point it meant he had been loved.

The setting sun lengthened their shadows, and Spain’s silhouette was touching his, melding them together into the way they used to be—one form, one being, a single heart beating between the two of them, held together by dewy tomatoes and freshly-made churros and the echoes of tarantella across the tiles of Spain’s floors.

Romano pushed away, gagging on the sour taste of nostalgia grown cold, of yearning for that which could only bite, could only hurt, made bitter and beautiful in its lack of reprieve, of sentimentalities honeyed with war-ravaged brutality. He heard, after a moment, the rustle of grass and the footfalls of steps behind him, and he stopped in surprise when scarred arms linked around his waist, when a chest pressed against his back, when a voice laced with sorrow and imperial madness danced the shell of his ear.

“I hope you and Venezito do well.”

Romano stared at him—his eyes were always green, so green, he noted distantly, vaguely, green and earnest and too fucking good at burning hot with hatred—before shaking him off, walking away, forcing more distance between them, the too-steep edge of a cliff neither of them were willing to cross.

Spain didn’t run after him this time. Romano couldn’t bring himself to feel disappointed.

[yuliakornevapainter]

The final ones

Scroll >>> Sfoglia >>> Листайте >>>

#the100dayproject days 99-100/100

The final ones.

Some steps done and a long way head.

I will keep on going.

Giorni 99-100/100 del #the100dayproject2024 .

Non è la fine.

Ho fatto qualche passo e c'è tanta strada da fare.

Continuerò ad esercitarmi.

100-дневный проект дни 99-100.

Кое-что уже освоила, но главное ещё впереди.

Буду продолжать упражняться лаконичности набросков.

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[seethroughcan]

Getting back into drawing

Uh hes a kitty

[cowboy-robooty]

reupload of really old comic practice teeheee!!!!

read left -> right