nexinanoose

[nexinanoose]

w.i.p. hole in the head

[nexinanoose]

no direction, equals bad. (10 min sketch on the bus)

[nexinanoose]

667, The Storage.

Disclaimer: this is a continuation on a previous story. Again, I must insist these are not creepy pasta, the locations in these stories are real, and I do not take any responsibility for any incidents which occur should any reader choose to investigate the validity of these stories from my life. Well, after some peace in #666 we finally moved. My mom couldn't afford to move from the neighborhood because we didn't own a car and she had to stay close to her work. So we moved downstairs to apartment #667. I remember sitting on the stairs a few days before our move though. I remember looking in the direction of the apartment and couldn't shake this feeling that something was looking at me, something evil. The hairs on my arms raised up, and I couldn't move. I just sat on the steps as fear left me paralyzed. Then my eyes widened in terror once I noticed one of the blinds in the window next to the door opened up and suddenly snapped shut again. It was at this time I regained use of my motor functions and ran upstairs in a panic. I wasn't looking forward to moving into this new apartment. But regardless we moved in. The first week there, the entire apartment smelled of fresh paint and wet concrete. My mother said it was a fresh start, and everyone was happy. Everyone except for my father, who left and refused to come back. It was tough for my mom at this circumstance, so being young and upset...she told us, "your dad is a bad man, and he hates us and isn't coming back anymore." This was a really pivotal event for us kids and our relationship with my mom. From this day on, my mother began to treat my brother and myself as though she hated us, and began to force us to cater to my three sisters...who weren't exactly kind-hearted. As you can guess three girls aged eight, seven and six weren't so nice to a cootie ridden boy. They often ganged up on me, broke my toys, and whenever I cried out to my mother I simply received a calloused, "go stand in the corner since you can't leave your sisters alone". Honestly, I had been put into the corner so often and for so long, I eventually developed a highly over active imagination. I remember spending an hour with my face pressed against the cold corner walls, and imagining the texture of the wall was a snowy mountain side; I imagined small people snow boarding down it often. One day, I remember being in the corner for some reason I thought unfair at the time. I remember my brother had left with his friends to play basketball at the park just north of the projects, and my sisters sat in their room playing with their dolls and watching sailor moon. My mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner when she suddenly had to go to the neighbors house across the way to pick up something for the meal. She told me sternly, "if you leave that corner, I'm gonna make you stand longer." then she called my older sister to watch over me to report if I disobeyed. Then my mother walked out the backdoor and my older sister yanked me by my shirt and pulled me out of the corner. She then exclaimed, "I'm telling mom!" quickly my twin sister and younger sister came out the bedroom and we're witness to me being out of the corner. My knees were buckling from standing so long I begged them not to tell. They agreed, on one circumstance. I had to go into the storage and get them a candy. The storage was a very narrow and long room, the ceiling sloped at a 45 degree angle because it was beneath stairs. My mother at the time used to buy boxes upon boxes of sodas, chips, and candies, and our apartment was what the neighborhood kids referred to as, "the candy shop". My mother kept her entire supply in the storage. The storage didn't have your typical lightswitch though, it had a pull string which was to high for any of us kids to reach. Considering how dark it was, and my older sisters fear of the dark, there was no way she was going in there, but that's what little brothers are for. Reluctantly, I agreed and stumbled into the storage. I turned back to see them standing in the doorway and told them not to close the door, and asked what candies they wanted. I grabbed them their requested goodies and handed them over. Suddenly they shoved me into the storage and shut the door. There in the darkness with only the light from beneath a crack under the door I fell on the ground and yelled out. I tried to pick myself up but my knees hurt so much I couldn't even bring myself to stand. I began to crawl toward the door knowing I had to get back to the corner before my mother returned. It was then I felt a sudden sting run up my right ankle, and shoot up across my back. Something in the darkness scratched me. I crawled as fast as I could to reach the door when I felt both my ankles being squeezed as if by someone's hands. I could feel something crawling on top of me, strangled my back, when... SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! I felt the sting of fists being beat all across my back, I cried out and screamed. The storage door swung open and I saw the silhouette of my mother quickly snap for my arm like a snake. Anger in her voice she yelled at me. Unwilling to listen to my sobbing explanation, she pulled off her wooden sandle and proceeded to take her anger out on my back, and bottom. Holding me up by my arm, she hit me again and again and again and then threw me to the ground. I laid screaming out in pain. I remember she yelled, "GET BACK IN THAT CORNER OR I WILL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!" I half limped half crawled to the corner, got to my feet and was told to be silent. I couldn't decide what was more terrifying my mother's anger or whatever attacked me in the storage. I silently sobbed to the wall. I hated this place. That night I stayed in the corner until the sunset, until everyone had eaten dinner, and everyone was getting ready for bed. My mom finally told me to sit at the table alone and eat. I remember feeling like an animal, feeling unloved, and wanting to run away. This was a feeling I soon became far too familiar with as years progressed. A few months passed, I still spent most of my time standing in the corner, but on one April day my mother must have gotten great news because she actually allowed me to watch television. I remember my favorite show at the time was a show called Wishbone. It's a show about a spunky little dog who reenacts classic literature, at the time he was the coolest. I sat at the foot of my mom's bed sitting on floor. My mom sat on her bed brushing my sisters hair. We were getting ready for some event I can't quite remember. Wishbone was in the middle of an adventure dressed in a spider costume, I was so enveloped in the show that I actually jumped to my feet when I heard my sisters start yelling, "mommy!". I pulled my attention from the television and looked in the direction of my mother. Within seconds I saw in the sheets on her bed, the imprints of hands crawling toward her, crawling fast. My mother stood up out the bed and moved toward the wall. We all sat in shock as we watched the impression of someone sitting down at the edge of the bed appear. Then it lightly faded, until it was gone completely, my sisters cried out for my mother, and my mother tried to say it was OK. She was wrong. Mid sentence her voice became gurgled and looked toward us. I could see the impression of hands pressing around her neck. She stood there being chocked and slammed against her dresser, which was close by me. My sisters ran toward the door as did myself, when it suddenly slammed behind us. We cried as we heard a sudden scream come from within the room. I never heard my mother scream like that before. Just then, her door swung open and she gathered us all up and ran out the house. That night we stayed at the park north of the projects for a good hour before my aunt Rosemary came and drove us to her house. Needless to say, that time my mother actually decided to break the lease, and we moved out within the month. Thank you for reading, I will update soon.

[nexinanoose]

666, Devil Apartment. Part 2

Disclaimer: this is a continuation of my previous post, if you have not read it, please start there. As stated in my previous post, my mother had a ghostly experience inside the bathroom of apartment 666. As an adult she finally told me exactly what had happened. She was showering and getting ready for work when she heard a loud bang on the bathroom door. My brother, sisters, and myself had all been walking to school, which was about 1.5 blocks away from home. Initially she first thought it was my dad, as at this time he had a tendency to drink, and was usually home 1 day out of week, the rest of the week he would vanish with his gang banger friends. But when he was home, it usually meant he was in trouble, drunk, and abusive. Truthfully whenever he was home, it wasn't always bad though, at least not for us kids. He often bought us toys and junk food from the ice cream trucks...although we weren't old enough to understand he was stealing money from my moms financial responsibilities to spoil us. Which made my mom very upset, being she worked 2 fast food jobs to keep a roof over our heads, and whenever she would voice it she would be beaten within an inch of her life. We were too young to understand why they always argued or why the police would visit so often or why social workers would pull us out of school to take us to my nanas house. But my mother explained that the banging on the door had startled her and alerted her there was something really bad about to happen. She turned off the water, wrapped herself in a towel and checked to make sure the door was locked. She called out "Julian, I have to get ready for work, we can't do this right now" But there was only silence on the other end of the door. My mom pushed her weight against the door in case it was kicked in. Suddenly... BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! A hollow woman's voice rang out in spanish, "give me your youngest". My mother then felt an extreme pain in her chest and fainted. When we had come home we found her laying on the bathroom floor with blood in her mouth and bite marks on her neck, arms, and legs. My older sister Tiffany quickly ran to get the phone and call 911. It took about 15 minutes for 5 police officers to show up with 3 paramedics. I remember them putting my mom on a stretcher and carrying her down stairs while she plead behind hysterical sobs saying, "it wasn't him, call my mom, stay with my babies!". One older police officer stayed inside with us and asked if we had seen our dad. We hadn't, we were just 5 kids terrified we weren't going to see our mom again. A few hours later my grandma showed up in her dry cleaning uniform, she left work as soon as she heard what happened. My uncle stood outside in the court yard with 8 of his friends, they intended to kill my dad for this. I remember my friends from school gathered close by spreading rumors and gossiping about how we were all dead inside and the police were hunting for a serial killer, usual kid stories, everyone tried to explain how everyone had to "watch out" or they'd be next. It didn't take long for the sun to set, the crowds to evaporate, and my uncle to come inside and lay on the couch in the living room. My grandma had cooked us tortillas, beans and rice before she left to visit my mom in the hospital. My brother talked with my uncle, while my sisters played with their Barbie's, and I sat in front of the tv watching Americas funniest home videos. As the night went on, one by one we all started to fall asleep. When I finally woke up, one of my uncles friends was carrying me down the stairs and into my grandmas yellow Dodge neon. My grandma explained to us that we couldn't stay there anymore and my mom was ok, and we were going to live with her until we moved for good. About a week passed and we finally got to see our mom. It was an amazing feeling and felt like a type of normality would set in from here. However, my mother took us back to apartment 666, she couldn't afford to break the lease and instead had us all go to the apartment with a bruja, and the apartment and ourselves we're saged and blessed. Once the ceremony was over we had to go back to my grandmas so the bruja could finish the ceremony later that night. I'm told it involved an offering, like a bird or something. From then on, we didn't have a lot of paranormal things happening. But the whole thing with my mothers attack, lead my mother to find out she needed a heart surgery. I remember lining up in brand new clothes with my mom. One after another we took pictures with her, family pictures, pictures with just us kids..sitting and smiling together like a family portrait. This was the day before my moms heart surgery. As a kid I didn't think much of it when my mom told us to keep those pictures safe forever, and why we all got copies of the same ones. Now I realize as an adult, she wanted us to keep them safe in case she died and we ended up in foster care. She survived, and as kids do, we lost the pictures. My mothers copies are all that remains from this memory of that traumatic experience. I did bring it up with my mom years later, and she told me this story. Thanks for reading. I will update soon.

[nexinanoose]

666, Devil Apartment.

Disclaimer: this is not a creepypasta, so if you're expecting devils and satanic mumbo-jumbo it's not in this post. I know you guys like to read and talk about spooky and paranormal stuff so I wanted to share a bit of my experiences from my youth. I'll warn you though, I'm not going to hide a whole lot, I'm going to give exact locations and real first names as well as background details, so it may get long. I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona. My oldest memory is from 1995. I remember the year because I always liked writing it in the upper right corner under my name on my homework pages. I went to Edison elementary school, and grew up in the Duppa Villa housing projects, which is now called Luke Krohn (east Villa street). As one can assume the name was changed because of the infamous gang violence in the area. I remember the apartment number we lived in was #666, how obvious right? The kids at school used to ask me what it was like living in "666, devils apartment", I'd tell them, "it's just home." This apartment was a crappy upstairs unit with 3 bedrooms and 1 bathroom. It even came with its very own ghost. Well being raised in a traditional Hispanic family there's always a room where the light switch is located on the far side of the room and "el cucuy" is waiting for when you shut off the lights...this was my mothers bedroom at the end of the hall. My older brother Julian and myself shared the room next to my mothers, and my older sister Tiffany, twin sister Stacey, and younger sister Desiree shared a room down the hall closer to the bathroom. Well as I mentioned before there was a ghost in the apartment, my memory is cloudy but I remember he was a really tall and really fat native American in a grey flannel jacket. There wasn't anything physically terrifying about him like what's typical in movies. My sisters and I always saw him out of the corner of our eyes, and he was always standing in the hallway staring off into space with a numb look in this eyes. However, every single night I could hear him sobbing in the hallway and tapping on my bedroom door which we always kept closed. My older brother, Julian who was 12 at this time shared a bunk bed with me. And since he was older, stronger, and cooler he decided he needed the top bunk and I should have the bottom, because 7 year olds never get the top bunk, he even promised me I could be player #1 for the next week we played Nintendo. Made sense at the time, but this is an important detail to this particular story. Ok, well one night I remember there was a lot of gun shots outside. I mean, probably 1.5 hours worth of gunshots echoing out every 30 seconds. So my mom had us all huddled in the living room, sitting on the ground in the middle of the room with all the lights off and told us to be extremely quiet. As it turns out the neighborhood gangsters were at war with a rival gang and the rival gang was shooting into windows of people who were home. Of course, we're 5 kids told to sit in the dark and be absolutely quiet so we were excited at the prospect of staying up late and felt like it was all a game of hide and seek. That was until we heard the gunshots get closer and heard the screaming. It was hard for us not to cry out but my mother held us all close and promised it was going to be ok. As the night went on the gunshots stopped and the police sirens finally came. My sisters and brother had all fallen asleep and I stayed up and talked with my mom, it wasn't long before she fell asleep too. Then I heared it, in the hallway, sobbing. Getting louder and louder. My curiosity made me get up and slowly walk to the hallway. I couldn't see much but a lumpy shadow laying on the floor and slowly fading in and out of sight. I went to reach for a light switch, but quickly remembered my mom told us not to turn on the lights. So I squinted as hard as I could and walked closer to the shadowy figure. As soon as I got just close enough to realize it was a man laying on the floor sobbing, I felt a cold chill rise up my back. This was a completely different ghost, it was a bloody naked man, with a knife in his ribs, the handle of the knife tapped against my bedroom door as he struggled to breathe. I turned my face because my mother always told me to never look at naked people, only to see the fat native American ghost standing with his back to me. I felt trapped so I shut my eyes as hard as I could and covered my ears with my hands. It didn't take long before I opened my eyes and saw both of the ghosts were gone. I ran to my mom and woke her up and told her what I saw, in all the excitement I woke up my brother and sisters. My sisters believed me but my brother began to punch me and call me a liar. My mom threatened him that he'd be sent to our room alone if he kept hitting me. Almost instantly I asked if I could go alone, because the ghost couldn't get in the room. My mom agreed and I walked slowly down the hall and closed the door behind me. I slipped into my bed and eventually fell asleep. Then I felt someone pushing my pillow up as if they we're directly under my bed and I began to wake up. I remember I had a black power ranger figure which I kept under my pillow to play with when my mother didn't check in on if I was sleeping. I reached under my pillow for the toy but it wasn't there. I looked around the room but the entire room was pitch black. The usual streams of light that flashed in through the blinds were gone, and everything was quiet. Too quiet. I sat up and got out of my bed, thinking to look for the door. But where the door knob should have been, there was nothing but the glossy texture of a painted brick wall. Then I heard breathing behind me, heavy and directly behind me. My hands went wild searching the wall in the pitch black, and then I found it, a door. I flung it open without thinking and ran through it. My face instantly was met with a lump of fabric and my ears rang with a metallic crash. I had somehow ended up in my closet. Then I heard the closet door slam behind me. My heart raced and I began to cry but search around the walls for the opening. It didn't take long to find, but once I did I opened it and was met with a very peculiar sight. Moonlight beamed in the blinds of the room, but I wasn't in my room. I was in my moms room, somehow I entered my closet passed through a brick wall and ended up in my moms room. To this day I have no idea what the heck happened or how it happened. But I knew I had to get out of her room before "el cucuy" found me. I dashed for the door and ran back into the living room where everyone else was. I never mentioned what happened out of fear of my brother bullying me again. And that's my first paranormal experience. Oh yeah, and I never found my black power ranger after that either. As it turned out my mother finally saw a ghost in the bathroom and we moved out shortly after that...downstairs, to apartment #667. There's a worse story about that place. I'll update soon. Thank you for reading.

[nexinanoose]

Didn't really want to spend too much time refining it, so mainly concentrated on getting the colors right.

[nexinanoose]

[nexinanoose]

I guess we're starting here.

[nexinanoose]

I second the "draw for yourself"

Dear Endling, I've been a huge fan since I saw your comics on Snafu. I'm struggling, and have been for awhile. Art is my passion, but I don't have the right education to pursue a career in it. I've been unable to find my style, and have been stuck for a year. Do you have any advice on where I can read/study to improve my skills to eventually, find my own style?

  This is a question I’ve been asked a lot, but to be honest it never really gets that much easier to answer. Every artist being an individual, it’s tough to find catch-alls that work for everyone, you know what I  mean? And hell, truth be told, I’m still trying to figure this stuff out for myself. :]

  Let me get this first bit out of the way, the bit nobody wants to hear: “Practice, practice, practice.” It’s the biggest, stinkiest old chestnut in the book, the one you’ve probably heard a million times before, but unfortunately, it is the most rock solid, time-tested advice any artist can swear by. Even when you feel down and out, even when things don’t look like they should. You keep on drawing, because art has a funny way of growing with you, even if you’re not aware of it. 

 But try different things. Some personal suggestions:

- Draw from life. Do figure studies. Your art will only go as far as the strong foundation you’ve built on. It can be arduous, but it is worth it. There is no way around this, much as many folks find this the token ‘boring’ advice.

- Look up light and color theory online. Nowadays there is a ridiculous amount of information on this subject on the internet. You could probably cobble together a near full education on the subject just from all the different people who have guides, examples, even youtube videos on the matter. It’s really amazing. There are tons of people out there trying to help young artists get on their feet, and they aren’t charging a thin dime. Take advantage of it. :]

- Warm up before you draw! Draw scribbles, cubes, shapes with some zing to them. Drawing can be a workout! So like any workout, warm up! Don’t dive right in and injure yourself. :] It’s a good way to stave off feeling discouraged because things  didn’t turn out looking brilliant right off the bat. 

- Try emulating a variety of other artists’ work. (With their consent if you’re posting it somewhere of course.) Sometimes when drawing in someone else’s style your own little mannerisms and stylistic influences tend to pop up in the result. This is more a fun exercise though, certainly not something to fall back on as a means to improve. You don’t want to end up relying on the same artistic 'shortcuts’ your chosen artists employ in their own work without a firm understanding of the basics yourself.

- Draw quickly, loosely, even carelessly. Less thought, more winging it. Fly by the seat of them pants. Have fun letting go! At least, for a practice run at first. While 'style’ is at best a nebulous concept, I’ve always found that if you draw speedily, you tend to put emphasis in certain areas, sort of feel your hand moving a particular way? If you don’t let too much thought get in the way, you can sometimes see the raw tendencies you have underneath the art. 

- Animation! Regarding stuff to read to improve your skills, there is no shortage of books available in places like Barnes & Noble. Entire sections on art. I recommend, personally, books on animation techniques. I was originally an animation major in college, and I think any artist can benefit greatly by studying it thoroughly. 

- Draw for yourself, not for the internet. This is a more fairly recent issue I’ve been seeing with some people, but there are folks out there who get a little too attached to the reception (or lack thereof) they receive for posting their work online, or worse still, seem to only draw with the specific intent of putting things online. While it’s all well and good to share your work with other people, please please please do not forget that you are drawing for yourself. You don’t have to post everything you make. Allow yourself plenty of time to make plenty of terrible drawings. Fall flat on your face. You can share the stuff you’d like, but you don’t have to feel compelled to share everything you do.

- Art blocks and burn out will happen. Don’t sweat 'being stuck’ so much. Don’t rush getting OUT of it either. Art blocks are kind of a way of telling you you’re running on empty in one way or another. I’ve gotten asked quite often what I do to get over an art block. The answer is really simple: wait. Haha. But you find things to do that get you feeling charged up again. I like listening to music and playing games. Games are what got me into art in the first place, so it’s kind of a back-and-forth process for me. But what I’m trying to say here is, art and your life are pretty much connected in every way. If your art just doesn’t want to come out easily on the page, maybe you should find something else to do that you enjoy. Refill, recharge, re-energize, but NOT just to get over an art block. Your daily life might be more attached to your work than you realize. Which brings me to my next point..

- Don’t look so hard for 'your style’. You need to grow as much as your artwork. As I said before, style is kind of a strange subject. To most people style is simply 'how your art looks’, what sets it apart from other folks. But if you ask me, style is whatever ignites your passion to create in the first place. Style can be influenced by other art, sure, but it can also be influenced by music, games, sports, books, your background, the things you enjoy, just the person you are from the ground up. Style comes from pouring yourself into your work. And you know what? You need to grow just as much as your artwork. If you put a piece of yourself into your art, it will undoubtedly be unique, because you’re a unique person yourself. Find something you want to say and let it come out through your art.

And yes, that’s about the floweriest answer I’ve ever given on the subject of style. I guess when it comes to the subject of art I can be a sappy sap. But DAMMIT I BELIEVE IN YOU. And anyone else reading this that might have been feeling the same way! And I really appreciate the question! Hell, I’m honored, and hope in any way at all I can help, because art is a beautiful thing to have in your life, and I wish you the absolute best of luck with it. 

Now DRAW. DRAAAAAAAAAW, I SAY! 

[nexinanoose]

PAYPAL IS TRYING TO SLIP THE RUG UNDER US. Or they may have said this and just no one read about it or noticed/knew.

OKAY SO BEFORE YOU SEND ANY MONEY FOR THAT AWESOME COMMISSION YOU WANT TO BUY FROM THAT AWESOME ARTIST. PLEASE STOP AND READ THIS.

Paypal changed the look of how you will fill out information and send money. Thus, you need to be super careful. Don’t go all willy nilly through and be like “Yeah yeah yeah send” you need to stop when you see this screen right away.

Before you proceed, you will first notice one major thing: your address is showing. What you need to do if you are ordering a DIGITAL WORK (aka, it is being sent to you via the interwebz) is you need to click on your address and there around be a drop down menu of 3 (or more) options:

No address needed

Your Current Address

+ Add a new shipping address

Be sure to select “No address needed”, it is very important that you do. If you leave your address in there, Paypal will assume that you are to receive a physical package. A physical package which needs proof that exists physically. Paypal will want the artist to provide shipping labels and tracking info on said package. This is bad, very, very bad. Artists can get in trouble if they cannot provide these things.

Please, if an artist asks to send you back your money so that you can send it again correctly, do not be offended. You are paying them to do your commission, how can they do your commission with no money?

Reblog this, send this around, if you want to make a proper tutorial go ahead, I hope this was clear enough as it is.

[nexinanoose]

1) get a tattoo of one of their old artworks without asking if its alright.

2) criticizing the tattoo frequently and pausing to explain its the tattoo artists mistake.

3) asking them to learn to tattoo so they can fix it for free.

1) Reblog their old art

2) nothing that’s it they’re fucking furious and may in fact stop being friends with you

[nexinanoose]

Reblog if it is okay if I make fanart of your OCs

[nexinanoose]

Corto Maltese and the Dragonlady by Aype Beven / Facebook

Extremely saddened today to learn that the incredibly talented artist, Aype Beven, passed away very suddenly a few days ago. He leaves behind his wife and small baby boy whom both have my deepest condolences and sympathy. 

Although I’ve never had any contact with Aype, I’m completely gutted by this news and feel compelled to write something.

From the first moment I saw his spectacular art and discovered it was all hand drawn, pencil and ink I was in awe of this man’s level of control, skill and vision. His photo realistic textures, details and tones are simply unfathomable to me, and i’ve genuinely loved sharing his magnificent work in the past.

As far as I’m aware the above piece is his final commission, completed only a fews weeks prior to his passing, and it’s a total jaw dropper as always.

Anyone wishing to donate to help the family out with funeral expenses can do so via paypal to: ac170883@gmail.com

[nexinanoose]

Well, I found my wifes version of disneyland

Kyoto International Manga Museum

Kyoto International Manga Museum opened in December 2006 to research Manga culture from all over the world. The research include not only Japanese manga but also foreign manga culture and history, so eventually the number of manga that this museum owns reached over three hundred thousands of manga in this museum.

Click here for more

[nexinanoose]

The Heretic Series by Dan Mumford / Twitter / Store

A3 digital prints, Available individually or in a complete 8 print set HERE.

[nexinanoose]

DC and Marvel Art from Jebedaï

[nexinanoose]