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#.... maybe if I start drawing myself with them more
hippolotamus · 1 day
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Fic title: baby, you've got to be crazy 🫶
Hiiiiii, Husband 💞 some more lovey idiots for you. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions about how they wound up here 😘
“I-” Buck scoffs, throwing his hands up, then brings one to rub at his chin while the other rests on his hip. He forces himself to look at Eddie who is worrying with a loose thread on his shirt sleeve. “Eds, you can’t- you don’t mean that.”
Buck's accusation is born out of self-preservation more than anything. Because, of all the things - spoken and unspoken - that have passed between them through the years, he has never wanted his best friend to mean anything more than the words he just uttered.
Eddie folds his arms across his chest, widening his stance. Nothing drastic, just the smallest amount. Enough to convey he’s serious and not backing down.
"Why not, Buck? Huh? Why can't I mean that?"
Buck starts to protest, to release a litany of reasons, but no sound comes out. His jaw snaps shut when Eddie seemingly drops his defenses, closing the gap between them in two large strides.
Eddie rests one hand on each of Buck's shoulders, letting his thumb settle in the divot of Buck's collarbone. One of the many pieces of Buck that was never good enough for anyone else, but seems to have been custom made for Eddie Diaz.
Eddie's fingertips skim over Buck's hoodie - the burnt orange one Eddie always says looks good on him - down his biceps, around his elbows, over his forearms until their hands are joining. Brown eyes, the color of soil and earth, meet Buck's. They're searching and pleading, looking for an answer Buck desperately wants to give.
"Buck." Eddie's gaze flicks to his mouth for just a second, making him feel like he's burning. And he would, he wants to, but not yet. Not until he's sure what Eddie's asking of him. "Evan."
Eddie rests their foreheads together, bringing them even closer. "Haven't we done this long enough? Haven't we sacrificed and said 'no, not yet' too many times? I don't-" He forcefully exhales between them, a frustrated sigh that tapers off to quiet, wounded thing. "I've missed so many chances. Told myself that it wasn't our time yet and I could wait a little longer. Until the next one. But, I can't. I can't do it anymore. Can't lose you."
Tears gather at the corner of Buck's eyes and he has to swallow back the tremor that wants to accompany every word.
"Okay," he manages. "Say it again."
Eddie’s tongue darts out, swiping across his lips that instantly curve into a small smile. The one Buck pretends is just for him. “Marry me. Be my husband. Plea-”
Buck cuts him off. “Yes, I’ll be your husband,” he whispers, then huffs out a small laugh. "Maybe kiss me first?"
And Eddie does. He brings their lips together, slow and cautious but so, so certain. Like he's never been more sure of anything, like kissing Buck is the easiest decision of his life.
It strikes Buck that this is the last first kiss he'll ever have. That they'll ever have. How it's a precious gift they've been permitted to share with each other.
With every passing year, he became more and more convinced they were two parallel lines, meant to travel together but never touch. Yet here they are, crossing and twisting and intertwining. Beginning to weave the next chapter of their story.
Eddie threads his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Buck's neck, sighing into their kiss, and Buck knows he has never meant anything more.
send me a made up fic title
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jennyboom21 · 1 day
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In 2023 actor Sophia Bush made headlines when she filed for divorce one year after a storybook wedding. By the fall it was public knowledge that she was in a new relationship. With a woman. The internet seemed to be foaming at the digital mouth for a scandal, but to those who knew her, it was clear she’d never been more herself. Here, in her own words, Bush speaks to the power of finally learning to listen to her intuition.
In April of 2022 I was close to calling off my wedding. Instead of running away, I doubled down on being a model wife. In 2023 my now ex-husband posted a lovely tribute to our first anniversary on Instagram. When I saw it, I felt the blood drain from my face. Fans and friends were telling me how exciting this milestone was and how happy I looked. I felt nothing. Things hadn’t been easy at home, but everyone says marriage is hard, right? As the day wore on, I felt mounting pressure from strangers online waiting for me to post something—what a strange part of public life to have to navigate—so I sat myself down and chose a picture.
It was a black-and-white photograph of us running away from the camera. Yes, I see the bittersweet irony now. I wrote a really nice story about the people in that picture. Except it was just that: a story. I typed something about how incredibly happy I was and tried to drown out the familiar voice in my head. Make it look easy. Make it look perfect. If your smile is shiny enough, maybe no one will notice that up close all of your teeth are broken. But sometimes broken is just broken.
I hit post. And then I walked into the bathroom and threw up.
I believe in people and ideas so deeply—and those feelings are often so powerful to me—that I hadn’t realized I’d spent the last two decades moving through life showing up for others but often turning my back on myself. This time things felt different. Maybe it’s just cold feet, I told myself. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe this was the feeling you get when you settle down later in life and have to make space for another person. There have been moments in my life when it feels like the universe is screaming at me to pay attention. This was one of them, but I didn’t listen.
I kept repeating the adages we all know so well: Relationships are hard. Marriage takes compromise. You know the rest. And so I got married. We threw one of the greatest wedding weekends ever. We had an amazing time with our closest friends and family. It was truly one of the best parties I’ve ever been to, and we raised a ton of money for charity. I don’t regret any of that.
But after the wedding I found myself in the depths and heartbreak of the fertility process, which was the most clarifying experience of my life. It feels like society is finally making space for brutally honest conversations about how hard and painful any fertility journey is, but I kept mine private. I was trying to get through months of endless ultrasounds, hormone shots, so many blood draws that I have scar tissue in my veins, and retrieval after retrieval, while simultaneously realizing the person I had chosen to be my partner didn’t necessarily speak the same emotional language I did.
As I lost track of how many examination tables I had lain on alone, I felt something in me seismically shift. Six months into that journey, I think I knew deep down that I absolutely had made a mistake. It would take my head and heart a while longer to understand what my bones already knew.
And that’s why, when I got an opportunity to do a play in London, I had to go. I had to get out of our house. I had to get onstage. I had to get back in my body. Maybe that could shift things. Maybe that would jump-start the joy I’d been chasing. The play slowly began to put me back together. It was grueling, and it was also the most exhilarating experience. I loved every second of it.
But the book doesn’t lie. The body does, in fact, keep the score. When half of our company went down with a virus, everyone recovered fast except for me. I continued to decline. I would put every fiber of my being into my performance onstage, and then be packed in bags of ice as soon as the curtain closed. I spent multiple nights in the hospital, I was pumped with endless amounts of fluids, I underwent cardiac testing and organ monitoring. It was clear that my body was screaming and I had to listen. It was hard for me to accept. I was part of a team. But I needed to go home, where my doctors (and, truthfully, my health insurance) could get a better handle on my symptoms. My time in London was over. So was my marriage. It all came crashing down at once.
During the summer of 2023, I moved back into my empty home in LA. I was separated and preparing to file for divorce, and groups of women in my life started opening up about issues they were going through in their own homes. It seemed like every week there were more of us, including [former US soccer player] Ashlyn [Harris], whom I’d first met in 2019 and who was in the process of figuring out her own split from her wife. She’d been such a kind ear for those of us who opened up about our problems during a shared weekend of speaking engagements at a fancy conference in Cannes, and soon it became clear that she needed our ears too.
For those of us who had no solution in sight or Hail Marys left, having this community changed everything. We really wrapped one another up in support. It was tragic and hard. But it was also beautiful. There were moments of incredible sadness because no one signs up to get married thinking it’ll end. The days when we knew people needed to laugh, we sent inspirational memes and silly TikToks. We read books written by great therapists and shared emo quotes from poets. Our “Begin Again” Amazon shopping list, which we created for the ones moving out and starting over, has now been forwarded to so many other women.
I didn’t expect to find love in this support system. I don’t know how else to say it other than: I didn’t see it until I saw it. And I think it’s very easy not to see something that’s been in front of your face for a long time when you’d never looked at it as an option and you had never been looked at as an option. What I saw was a friend with her big, happy life. And now I know she thought the same thing about me.
It really took other people in our safe support bubble pointing out to me how we’d finish each other’s sentences or be deeply affected by the same things. When you’re so in the trenches of hardship—plus you have the added weight of having to go through it on a public stage—it can be hard to see anything but what’s right in front of you.
It took me confronting a lot of things, what felt like countless sessions of therapy, and some prodding from loved ones, but eventually I asked Ashlyn to have a non-friend-group hang to talk about it.
And that meal was four and a half hours long and truly one of the most surreal experiences of my life thus far. In hindsight, maybe it all had to happen slowly and then suddenly all at once. Maybe it was all fated. Maybe it really is a version of invisible string theory. I don’t really know. But I do know that for a sparkly moment I felt like maybe the universe had been conspiring for me. And that feeling that I have in my bones is one I’ll hold on to no matter where things go from here.
But there was a lot that quickly turned ugly too. People looking in from the outside weren’t privy to just how much time it took, how many painful conversations were had. A lot of effort was made to be graceful with other people’s processing, their time and obligations, and their feelings. What felt like seconds after I started to see what was in front of me, the online rumor mill began to spit in the ugliest ways. There were blatant lies. Violent threats. There were accusations of being a home-wrecker. The ones who said I’d left my ex because I suddenly realized I wanted to be with women—my partners have known what I’m into for as long as I have (so that’s not it, y’all, sorry!).
The idea that I left my marriage based on some hysterical rendezvous—that, to be crystal-clear, never happened—rather than having taken over a year to do the most soul crushing work of my life? Rather than realizing I had to be the most vulnerable I’ve ever been, on a public stage, despite being terrified to my core? It feels brutal. Just because I didn’t want to process my realizations in real time on social media and spell them out for the world doesn’t mean the journey wasn’t long and thoughtful and exhaustive.
It’s painful to be doing deep work and have it picked apart by clueless strangers. Everyone that matters to me knows what’s true and what isn’t. But even still there’s a part of me that’s a ferocious defender, who wants to correct the record piece by piece. But my better self, with her earned patience, has to sit back and ask, What’s the fucking point? For who? For internet trolls? No, thank you. I’ll spend my precious time doing things I love instead.
I don’t believe it’s my place to discuss details of Ashlyn’s circumstances or her children, but I will say that I am absolutely in awe of her relentless integrity. The way she prioritizes and centers her kids, not only in her life but in the core of her being, is breathtaking to behold. Falling in love with her has sutured some of my own childhood wounds, and made me so much closer to my own mother. Seeing Ashlyn choose to not simply survive, but thrive, for her babies has been the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed a friend do. And now I get to love her. How lucky am I?
I sort of hate the notion of having to come out in 2024. But I’m deeply aware that we are having this conversation in a year when we’re seeing the most aggressive attacks on the LGBTQIA+ community in modern history. There were more than 500 anti-LGBTQIA+ bills proposed in state legislatures in 2023, so for that reason I want to give the act of coming out the respect and honor it deserves. I’ve experienced so much safety, respect, and love in the queer community, as an ally all of my life, that, as I came into myself, I already felt it was my home. I think I’ve always known that my sexuality exists on a spectrum. Right now I think the word that best defines it is queer. I can’t say it without smiling, actually. And that feels pretty great.
Would I have liked to make the public part of this journey a choice for myself, and not have it taken from my lips and set ablaze by gossip blogs and bottom-feeder online bots? Of course. I’m very aware, though, as we discuss bullying and harassment and being outed without consent—that I’m incredibly lucky this happened in my adulthood. I really love who I am, at this age and in this moment. I’m so lucky that my parents, having spent time with Ash over the holidays, said, “Well, this finally looks right.” I know it could have gone differently.
We’ve all learned about kids who have taken their own life after being outed or who have been killed simply for being who they are in a place or time that is threatened by their expressed joy. I am so lucky to be here, now. I have real joy. It took me 41 years to get here. And while I marvel at it, I will also make space for people’s pain. But I will not carry anyone’s projected shame. When I take stock of the last few years, I can tell you that I have never operated out of more integrity in my life. I hope that’s clear enough for everyone speculating out there, while being as gentle as I possibly can be.
After the news became public, my mom told me that one of her friends called her and said, “Well, this can’t be true. I mean, your daughter isn’t gay.” My mom felt that it was obvious, from the way her friend emphasized the word, that she meant it judgmentally. And you know what my mom said? “Oh honey, I think she’s pretty gay. And she’s happy.”
I finally feel like I can breathe. I don't think I can explain how profound that is. I feel like I was wearing a weighted vest for who knows how long. I hadn’t realized how heavy it was until I finally just put it down. This might sound crazy—but I think other people in trauma recovery will get it—I am taking deep breaths again. I can feel my legs and feet. I can feel my feet in my shoes right now. It makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time.
It is so, so scary to do the brave thing, to say, “I’m just not happy.” Especially if you’re in a partnership and you have to say it first. But if you do it, you get the chance to be happy. To find your joy. I turned 41 last summer, amid all of this, and I heard the words I was saying to my best friend as they came out of my mouth. “I feel like this is my first birthday,” I told her. This year was my very first birthday.
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maudiemoods · 4 months
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I will become my own blorbo
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About time I made a jester sona
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cali · 7 months
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darkraiiiiii
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caluupin · 1 year
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them but in casual clothes because I don't want to draw their canon outfits
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lunarharp · 3 months
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wanted to adapt the google search results a gay woman got in a japanese drama "tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna" which is good btw.
#witch hat tag#orufrey#the most light and gentle version of flirting-like behaviour of all time - a mutual passing thing - a peaceful dance through the long years#a way to work you out.. a way to express something about myself. all these steps are leading up to that beautiful magic#that you read about once. but actually we've been making it all this time... many many steps to this wonderful recipe.#the only non-perfect & non-fated thing about them is that oru is gay but (imo) qif could easily be transfem at any time. don't test him#oru being a woman wouldnt change anything for qif but oru is gay as hell.. However if qif was a woman then it'd be fine anyway no doubt.#oru would give in his membership to the Gay Men's Picnic Club group he goes to and embark on this life instead..many such cases#also i was typing “am i gay” into google when drawing tsukutabe fanart to check what google looks like#and “am i depressed” was the autofill for “am i”. qif's life is like: maybe he would have looked up something like oru did#but he got a bit distracted and started reading about cptsd instead which seemed more pertinent. sometimes childhood goes this way <3#anyway Tsukuritabe..Kinou nani tabeta...And witch hat kitchen.... the trio of gentle silly 30+ gay couple situations..ohh..#orufrey are the combo of those. like tsukutabe they aren't together yet. like kinou nani tabeta they are a long-term couple. beautiful#i will never let go of them. drawing this has cheered me up. they are with me
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the-somwthing · 2 months
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Thinking of making one of those life series askblogs with all the dead characters in some form of afterlife. They’re really fun and things like that have been in my head since Last Life started so if anyone’s gonna jump on that you know it’s me (especially since I’ve run 3… successful enough ask series in the past).
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spacedlexi · 10 months
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trying to keep all my clemviminnie thoughts contained until i get to episode 3 but
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its hard
#telltale was CRAZY for this btw!! the drama of it all ALWAYS gets me#violet blaming herself for her gf/minnies death. clem helps her open up again. starts dating clem. finds out minnie is still alive?#saved violet telling clem she has nothing to worry about and she'll fight minnie if she has to to keep clem and her loved ones safe#kidnapped violet getting brain poisoned by minnie into turning against clem after feeling betrayed and abandoned by her#saved vi shooting minnie to save clem!!!!!!!!! but cant leave minnie behind because she already left her once and she cant do it again#vi begging minnie to stop trying to fucking kill them but shes too far gone. the 3 of them fight to the DEATH!!!#now add all that to the parallels and dark mirrors going on between clem and minnie in the A plot like the tension is off the charts#plus the parallels you can draw between clem and vi but those are less “you are my dark mirror” and more “we are the same i understand you”#HOW are the girlies not still talking about this#you know what i partially blame myself i dont talk about it enough either. i forget how many things ive left in my wips folder sometimes#UGH its all so good violets route just ads so much Flavor to the clem/minnie plotline its Delicious i couldnt imagine it Not being there#i neeeeeeeed to draw them fighting and being gay and maybe bloody even#if u cant tell i really want to get back to that wip i posted a few weeks ago but im Trying to Restrain Myself#i love forcing myself to take things slow sometimes really makes the brain shift into overdrive#twdg#violentine#it speaks
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roitaminnah · 1 year
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hey have u guys read the fic bandit queens of the mont satiné shopping mall. (shaking through tears) i think u should. join me in my insanity <3
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natelia-aldelliz · 1 year
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Guys... Listen I know I said I'd draw something for valentine's day but I had a bit of a rough week sooooo I'm just going to write it out instead, maybe I'll finish drawing it some day, maybe not. It's behind a show more because it's long.
(also there's talks about having sex but no actual sex, and like, general warnings about Ghost's backstory but it's very vague here).
Soap was hanging around outside, trying to bring himself to do something, anything. But the weather was nice for a February day, and the sun was out, and it was making him feel like a cat basking in the heat.
An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, a huge body suddenly weighing on him. Ghost.
Soap hummed comfortably. This day was getting better by the minute. Any chill he might have felt from being outside in a tank top out of pure Scottish spite was instantly soothed.
Simon often times saw himself as a cold man, freezing to the touch, hidden behind a layer of ice. A proper little Elsa, Soap almost snorted out loud. The truth was that while yes, his fingers and toes' temperature was sometimes abysmal, especially in bed, the rest of him was the warmest place Johnny had ever been.
"I've got something for you in our room," Ghost whispered against his throat, making Soap shiver.
Simon had begun calling Soap's room theirs a few weeks ago and Johnny couldn't have enough of it. He was so in love it genuinely hurt sometimes to restrain himself from squeezing him to death.
"Is that so?" he purrs, knowing how Ghost likes that. If this day didn't end in sex he'd be very surprised. He'd long learned to recognize when Simon wanted sex and when he didn't, and the way he squeezed his pec in response to his voice was a very easy tell.
But then again Simon was way less subtle than he thought he was.
They made their way back to their room, and there it was, a repurposed shoebox, badly wrapped with cheap wrapping paper. Johnny couldn't be more excited, he had never received any gift from a significant other. To be fair he adored gifting but always felt awkward receiving.
But this was Simon. Something that Simon had chosen to give him.
He sat on the bed, leaving enough space behind him for Ghost to sit there so he could use him as a very comfortable backrest. When he did, he grabbed the gift and began opening it.
He knew that Ghost liked to tear the wrapping paper, liked the sound of it and liked tearing it into the smallest pieces possible after, but he himself loved carefully unwrapping it and folding it flat so he could later maybe do an origami with it or put a piece in his journal. Probably both.
This one was full of tape but he still very much enjoyed himself, considered it a challenge. He enjoyed the chase, wanted to drag it on. Ghost huffed impatiently behind him, a bit tense, probably nervous.
Inside the box was a weird old fashioned clunky thing. It was bright red, looked slightly like binoculars, definitely from the 70's, with a wheel of tiny pictures wedged in the top of it. Memories hit him all at once.
"Oh my god ah remember, my Ma had one of these when ah was a child! My sister and I loved it, it had pretty landscapes in!"
He put it against his eyes, excited to see what this one came with. At his biggest surprise, it was a picture of them. Simon had customised it.
The picture showed the back of himself a bit further away from the camera, pointing at something while in full gear, in a dilapidated town, Ghost's face in the foreground looking at the camera. It looked like Soap was talking to someone, but that person was cut by the framing.
"Wait, ah remember that mission, it's when ah saved Gaz from a landmine just to be shot seconds later," he laughed. "ah spent two fucking weeks in the hospital, ah was miserable. Ye kept joking ah should hiv left Gaz explode while staring at him, he was convinced ye actually wanted him dead!"
Then the next picture was indeed him in his hospital bed, unconscious but the state of his injuries told him he was probably just sleeping at least a few days after his admission, his life no longer in danger. In this one, Ghost was sleeping too, head in his elbow near Soap's head and his other hand holding Soap's hand.
"Who took this one?" Soap asked, moved by the tenderness of Ghost's hold on him in the picture. It would have been right after Johnny had admitted to maybe liking him more than friends, before they were officially dating.
"The hospital one?"
Soap hummed.
"Price did. Said it was for blackmail. Should have seen him, he looked like his child had just married the person of their dreams and had ridden off into a rainbow on a unicorn or some shit. Old man's sentimental as fuck, but I didn't call him on his bullshit, he's already old, that's punishment enough."
Soap giggled in response. The next few pictures were all of them together but each time he was either turning his back or asleep.
"Why the fuck am ah never looking at the camera?" he whined. He wanted some cute couple pictures, dammit!
"Couldn't have you suspecting what I was planning," Simon said, kissing his shoulder soothingly. Only then Soap noticed that he had taken his mask off at some point and turned to ask for a proper kiss, which he immediately got.
"Keep going, there's more pictures," Simon whispered against his lips when he tried to turn around to kiss him some more. His pouting only got him a smirk in response, so he got comfortable again and brought the slide viewer back against his eyes.
He was happy he did. The next picture waiting for him was just Simon in the mirror, almost in full gear, but with one gloveless hand dragging his trousers down so the camera could see the bottom of his stomach, follow along his happy trail and reaching the very top of his pubic hair. The picture cut of his head, but he could see that his mouth was uncovered and he was holding the glove with his teeth.
Soap groaned. "Steaming Jesus, love, you're so hot."
He felt Simon hide his face in the back of his neck, warmer than usual, and chuckled a bit. He loved him so fucking much.
There were four more pictures of Simon, in various suggestive poses and states of undress, some almost showing his cock but never quite committing, making Johnny feel like he was being teased.
He was getting hard though and so ready to be done with the pictures and access the real thing. But Simon was still tense behind him. In fact, he had only gotten tenser and tenser with each click.
Soap was unsure why. They never had a problem with their sexual life, Simon had already changed his mind about having sex after starting and Soap had absolutely no problem with that, was glad to hug him instead and reassure him when he had tried to apologize.
Simon knew that there was no pressure, ever, to have sex. Hell, Johnny would still be happy even if Simon decided that he never wanted to have sex again, and he had made sure to make Simon understand that.
Then he got to the last picture and immediately understood.
It wasn't a picture of either of them, just a little bit of paper, with a few words written in Ghost's awful handwriting.
Just a few words that made Johnny drop the viewer on the covers and turn around to grab Simon's face, worriedly looking in his eyes.
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking for any trace of Simon forcing himself. "Baby, ah'm happy to bottom for the rest of mah life, there's no pressure, okay?"
Simon looked at him with warmth in his eyes and his cheeks completely red, a wrapping bow added on top of his head. "I know," he said simply. "I just want to. I don't want to be haunted by memories anymore. I used to like it, and I want to like it again. With you. Just.... Be gentle, okay?"
Johnny kissed his forehead. "Ah dinnae think ah ken how no tae be gentle with ye, love."
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whumpy-wyrms · 4 months
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SNOW DAY TOMORROW YESSSYESYES YESYESSSSSSS AHHHHHH
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defness · 3 months
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→ drawing the same pose over and over again and feels cringe
→ realizes that these drawings are simply pre-ref drawings to figure out one's design so I can Draw Them
→ no longer feels cringe
#jic ur wondering why all of them are drawn w that same arms out legs semi open pose#do i obsessively worry about this to an unhealthy degree? yeah#do people not verbally tell me that seeing me draw the same pose over and over again is Boring or Lame or stupid or smth? yes but i get#like. stupidly anxious and start thinking about things like that which i obviously know probably isn't the case and that in actuality#no one cares about how i draw more than i do#but it's still difficult not to ruminate on thoughts of people subconsciously rolling their eyes at my art because its so plain and boring#and static and stiff and it doesnt feel lively and dynamic like the artists i aspire to be like#but then i also remember im only just starting my art journey. by this year I'll only have been drawing for 4 years. 4 YEARS.#which seems like alot honestly? especially w the progress I've made#but most; if not everyone who isn't me have spent 7+ YEARS of drawing and i remind myself that. oh#yeah! im on the same path they were#maybe they had the same issues i did#but ill get through it :) i want to experiment more this year w my art#i say that but i need to COMMIT#i need to commit. to actually put in effort to learn posing and perspective instead of trying to lazily scrawl color on a digital canvas#but it all seems so daunting#but; you know; in time it'll come. seeing the difference only a few months has done to my art is also truly refreshing#it lets me know that im still learning and improving my technique and that really helps iron out any anxieties i have.#sorry this got super rambly super quickly lol
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puppyeared · 5 months
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Xin Ya is so cute and well designed! more a question than a comment but I just love your style
thank u!! im currently redoing bits of their backstory and design so hopefully ill get some more art of them up soon
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snailune · 20 days
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wiki how do I stop spiraling about my life once every 2 weeks I'm getting sick of it
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todayisafridaynight · 9 months
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i was playing about dropping Fifty Drawings onto everyone's dashboard this week but the unfortunate reality is i am in fact being assaulted with images
#snap chats#this is what happens when i go on three hour walks i guess#might abandon some but i will spitball the ones on the forefront of my brain..#more for my sake so i dont fuckin forget cause I Am Starting To Forget Already dont read if. you dont want spoilers ???#not y7 spoilers. or i mean i GUESS there'll be y7 spoilers but i mean for my psts. i guess. only i care about that ANYWAY#i wanna draw a comic of aoki getting SOME kind of butterfly memorabilia or something with him and butterflies#i Was having a chortle with myself about Like A Butterfly but i was also like... Yk Butterflies Still Are About Rebirth#lame as hell ik but shut up anyway next one i wanted to do was Troubled Teen Jo getting in a scrap with arakawa#idk if i want this to be AFTER arakawa's become a father or not.. im still chewing on exactly what i want the direction of it to be..#i have an IDEAAAA just.. nothing concrete yet..#and then the one i wanted to see if i could do tonight was Beach Day With The Arakawas :) Cause IDK <:)#i really dont know.. for some reason i just got visions of them three at the beach.. maybe its cause of tonbi idk...#though the more i thought about that idea the longer it got and the more i was like 'maybe i can turn this into a fic instead'#a terrible sentence cause generally i never get anything done when i say that but it'd fr be too long to make a comic of#so at least for now maybe ill make a short fic.. just tryna figure if i want a jo or arakawa pov#i always think of jo's pov so i wanna challenge myself with arakawa. i always focus on jo and his pov of 'becoming a father'#but sometimes i also really wanna explore arakawa's pov on jo becoming another parental figure for masato. or smthn like that idk#ANYWAY LET ME COOK. im not a good chef but i can at least cook an egg lemme see what i got...#bye bye for now ill be in the kitchen (google docs) if anyone needs me..
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lesbiangiratina · 9 months
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The thing about drawing is that if you stop doing it for like 6 years you get bad at it .
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