#another shitty traditional doodle

[pixelatedraindrops]

I second this.

His head is TOO pettable.

I firmly believe that Yuma Kokohead thoroughly enjoys head pats.

.

[pookiecowpoke]

When you know someone's capping:

[moose-goosey]

Many a doodle

[loving-jack-kelly]

javid fic told through the notes they leave each other before they know each other and while they get to know each other through notes when they both work at the same place where there's lockers or cubbies or something similar and they both choose the same one every time. night shift davey leaving notes for the person who keeps leaving napkin drawings from lunch break behind and davey thinks they're charming. day shift jack leaving notes for the person who's forgotten tupperware with the remains of clearly lovingly home-cooked meals and baked goods behind.

they've passed each other coming in and out a million times without knowing they're the ones leaving notes for each other. it becomes an almost daily thing, a silly but fun tradition to spend the last five minutes of a shift writing a silly joke or doodling something dumb on a receipt scrap. they both start building up the image of who they're talking to.

davey sees the hasty but obviously skilled sketches, the bodega receipts for coffee with too much cream and sugar, the wrappers of junk food and sometimes crumbs that get dropped and forgotten in the far back of the little locker they share and paints this picture of somebody who's always in a rush, somebody who has too much of a sweet tooth, somebody who must practice their art more than he pretends to in the little cartoons they leave behind. and jack sees the beat-up old reuseable water bottle that gets forgotten at least once a week, the college marching band sweatshirt that sometimes stays hung on the little hook, the rare receipt left behind showing what he got to eat minutes before clocking in for a long night, and gets this idea of a person who's always in a little bit of a rush, maybe they play trumpet or maybe it's something a little stranger like trombone or even glockenspiel, somebody who either tries way harder than jack at writing the notes or is just a naturally gifted writer and communicator.

maybe it goes on like this for a long time, until one of them comes in to a special two week's notice when the other is moving on to something new. maybe jack confesses he's been in night classes to be a social worker for the last two years and was only working this slightly-above-shitty job to pay for it. or maybe it's only a few months and it's davey letting his locker buddy know that he finally got a job in the field his degree is in and he starts in a few weeks. and it's been a joke, this whole time, that they never sign their names. it's locker buddy or night shift or a jokingly passive aggressive name derived from whatever got left behind that day, so when the notes stop, they both suddenly realize that this friendship they've built is just kind of..over. they don't know enough about each other to track each other down (and neither of them even thinks to ask around other coworkers about somebody on a different shift who just left the job because they're just a little bit stupid). so they just continue on, the one left behind missing the notes every time they come into work and the one who moved on finds it a little lonely, having their own space and not seeing the tiny pieces of life somebody else leaves behind.

maybe they find each other again after a while. and it's another random thing. they match on tinder or jack buys something off of davey on facebook marketplace or davey bumps into jack and spills coffee on him and they get to talking because that's the way jack is and davey is immediately charmed by him and when it clicks why they feel like they know each other it's delightful and funny and that's when things start for real.

[spooky-angel-eddie]

sopping wet beach bear for your entertainment (he went surfing)

inconsistent art style... god damn you inconsistent art style

on another note, bad news, my phone (which i draw on) is being shitty, so i may be unable to do any digital art for a while :(( for now i will be posting mostly traditional doodles

[marvel1012]

Sins of the Father - Pt. 3 "Sam"

Synopsis: AU 3rd season episode of The Bear. Carm makes a startling discovery, and must navigate the fallout.

Warnings: cursing, mostly

Word count: 3,170

Author's note: The epic conclusion to our saga! Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2

________________________________

It took Carm a week to put together a list of halfway houses in the greater Chicago area, and the better part of another week going building to building, looking for Sam. On his third try, he noticed the name “S. Morris” on the directory outside the door. Number 302. 

“No time like the present,” he whispered under his breath, and rang the buzzer. 

“Whaddya want?” His biological father’s tinny sounding voice coming through the ancient speaker. 

“It’s Carmen. I wanna talk.” 

Silence. Nothing happened. A breath, two breaths. Then, the sound of the door to the building buzzing. He quickly grabbed the handle and swung it open, stepping into the foyer. The room was illuminated by a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the dingy tile looked every bit as old as the intercom outside. One whole wall was composed of numbered mailboxes, and looking ahead, through a second door, he saw the stairwell. 

Of course he’d be in some shitty walk-up. 

Carm started the climb up to the third floor. By the time he reached the top of the third flight of stairs, his heart was pounding. Maybe he’d been skipping out on the gym a little too much lately. Apartment number 302 was the first door on the left from the top of the stairs. He knocked, and the door swung open a moment later. Sam didn’t say anything, just beckoned him inside. 

Carmen followed Sam into the shabby studio apartment, passing a tiny kitchenette to their right as they made their way to the combo living and sleeping area. When they got to the end of the short hallway and emerged into the open space, two things struck him simultaneously– the place was mostly empty, practically devoid of furniture and personal items, but the walls were covered with some of the most breathtaking still-life drawings he’d ever seen. He actually gasped as he took them all in. There were a few figures, mostly bare backs and disembodied hand studies, but what really grabbed his attention were the more traditional pieces. Over by the window, shiny fruit spilling out of a bowl onto a table, and there, a vase filled with exquisite flowers, their petals so detailed they seemed like they could pop right off the page. 

Sam realized he had stopped in the doorway, so he turned. He followed Carm’s gaze to the walls and nodded, “Oh, yeah. Those. I used to doodle a lot as a kid, but I picked this up while I was away. The prison library actually had a book about drawing fruit and shit like that, if you can believe it. I think it kept me from goin’ crazy,” he smirked and shook his head, “well, crazier.” 

Carmen was at a loss for words. All his life, he’d wondered where his talent for art had come from. Growing up, Donna had yelled at him for spending his time in class drawing instead of taking notes. Mikey and Richie had teased him mercilessly about his clothing sketches. Nat had liked to look at his drawings, but the best she could ever manage were stick figures with circles for heads and birds in flight that looked like stretched out M’s. Now a long held, secret hunch had been proven right in the most shocking and unexpected way. He’d always wanted to believe that he’d inherited his artistic gifts from Jerry. Now he knew the talent had come from his father, just not the one he thought.  

Carmen realized Sam was watching him, waiting for some kind of response. He pressed two fingers to his lips and nodded, “I draw some, too. Your stuff is good.” 

The corner of Sam’s mouth twitched up in a smirk at the complement. He walked over to a cheap black futon pushed into a corner against the far wall. Apparently he had been using an overturned plastic milk crate as an end table and nightstand– he quickly cleared off the top and moved it out into the middle of the room, then he settled onto the futon and indicated that Carm should have a seat on the crate across from him. “Have a seat.” 

Carmy did as he was told. The sharp plastic on the bottom of the crate pressed through the fabric of his pants and into his skin as he settled onto it. His nerves were jangling and tight, and he couldn’t help but bounce his right foot rhythmically against the side of the crate. He slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, craving a smoke to clear his mind, but before he could get the cig to his mouth, Sam shook his head. “You can’t smoke in here, there are rules.” 

Carm sighed and returned the cigarette to the pack, stuck the pack back into his pocket. Now what? “I, ah, did what you said.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I went to see my mom. I asked her about you.” 

Sam’s eyebrows flashed. “Oh, yeah? She give you an earful?” 

“Guess you could say that.” He bit his lip, peeling a little bit of chapped skin off with his teeth, not really sure how to proceed. “She, ah, said you guys had a one night stand, and that’s how, well, I mean,” he trailed off, visibly uncomfortable at the implication. 

Sam was staring intently, enjoying watching Carm squirm. A cold grin spread across his face. “That’s what she said, huh?” He sucked his teeth, laced his fingers around the back of his head and leaned into the futon, stretching out fully and crossing his ankles in front of him.

“Did you believe her?” 

“Huh?” 

“Don. Did you believe her story? About me?” 

Carmen pursed his lips. He didn’t like the sound of his mom’s nickname coming out of this stranger’s mouth. He decided to let it go, this time. “Maybe some of it? But not really.” 

Sam nodded, still smiling. “So you came to me. You wanna know what really happened.” 

This jagoff is having the time of his life. What a sick fuck.

Carm shrugged, “Sure.” Who else could I ask? 

The older man sniffed and shrugged back. “Alright, here’s the deal. Jerry and I worked together for a while, before he opened the restaurant but right after he, Jimmy, and Lee started the KBL front,” he chuckled, “talk about the three stooges, amiright?”

Carm just stared, nonplussed. 

“So, ah, anyways, your mom helped out in the office sometimes, doin’ billin’ and shit, I dunno. I didn’t really care, all I remember is she had cans like you would not believe. And those skirts she would wear, with the panty hose? That little black line up the back of her calf? Jeeezus fuckin’--” 

“Hey! I get it. I get it, alright? That’s my mom.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, let’s just say she knew what she was doin’. We were together for months before you came along. Jerry made it sooo fuckin’ easy, too. He was always runnin’ from job to job, tryin’ to look legit while he was screwin’ around with those other two assholes, playin’ at bein’ gangsters. Ha! Ain’t that some shit. Fuckin’ Jimmy is Polish.” 

Carm rolled his eyes, tried to steer the conversation back to the point. “So my Da– Jerry. He didn’t know?” 

“Fuck, no. I mean, he figured some of it out when Don got knocked up. By that point they hadn’t touched each other in so long, he knew she was fuckin’ around on him with somebody. Had ta be.”

“And then what?” 

“Yer mom had you. And you came out lookin’ just like me.” That soft, malicious laugh again. “I couldn’t believe it, you had my eyes and everything. Right there in fuckin’ Jerry Berzatto’s face. You were like a blinkin’ neon sign, kid.”  

Carmen felt his chest tightening up. He really didn’t want to have a full blown panic attack in front of this douche bag. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. 

“And?” 

Sam unlaced his hands and sat forward on the couch, arms draped over his knees. He was leaning in toward Carmy now, studying him. It felt like being sized up by a man eating lion. 

“He couldn’t fuckin’ handle it. He tried to take care of you for a while, and Don told me to get lost. She wanted to fix things, she said. I think we all know how that went.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, Jerry couldn’t cut it. There you were, a tiny reminder of what Donna and I had done. He finally had enough of her bullshit, I guess. And you were just the straw that broke the camel’s back.” 

Carm’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?” 

“Kid. Come on. You’re related to me so I know you can’t be that fuckin’ dense. You’re the reason Jerry finally left. He had put up with so much from Don over the years, hand to God the dumb fuck tried, but in the end it wasn’t enough. With a broad like Donna, it never is.” 

Oh, shit. It was happening again. Carmen pressed a fist to his sternum and stared at that singular point, trying to focus on his breathing. Not right now, don’t do this now. 

“Y-you’re…that’s not…” 

“Not true? You think I’m lying? Why would I? Jerry Berzatto was a sleaze bag and a criminal that let another man fuck his wife for months, then he split when he couldn’t deal.” Carm couldn’t see it, but Sam was rubbing his fingers across his top lip, considering his next words carefully. 

“When I saw what a shit show that house turned into, after he left, I knew I had to take you away from it. Away from her.” 

All at once, the world screeched to a halt. Carm sat there, frozen, burgeoning panic attack stalled out, so still he didn’t even bother to breathe. Finally, he looked up at Sam from under his mop of curls. Their eyes met, and there was that predatory stare again. 

“You– what?” Carmen whispered. 

“I tried to take you away from all that– that– chaos, that Don created for everybody around her. I know you don’t remember any of that, you were so little, but when Jerry left, shit really hit the fan. And I wasn’t gonna just walk away. No fuckin’ way. You were mine.” 

“You– kidnapped me?” 

“That’s what they put me away for. Even tacked on an extra 15 years, because I had a gun under the passenger seat of my car. I never fuckin’ touched the thing, forgot it was even there. Shitass detectives doubled my time over that stupid gun. Aggravated kidnapping my lily white ass.” 

Carm was still struggling to process the idea that his birth really had caused the destruction of his parents’ marriage, a confirmation of the guilt that had hidden all these years in the darkest recesses of his heart. The news that his biological father had kidnapped him just wouldn’t compute. He didn’t know what to say. He ran his hands through his hair and held his head practically in his lap. 

Sam kept talking, trying to fill the loaded, awkward silence. “I slipped into the house one afternoon. Donna was passed out on the couch, she didn’t even realize I was there. You were napping in your crib, so I just picked you up real easy and carried you out to my car,” this time, his smile was kinda sad, “I even had a car seat for you. Me. A fuckin’ car seat.” 

“How did I—?”

“Get back home? Jerry.” 

Carmy’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. “My dad?”

The older man’s expression darkened. “Jerry. When Donna woke up and couldn’t find you, she called him. He knew what kind of car I drove, so he reported you missing and gave the cops a description of you, me, and the car. Pulled us over on the I-94.” 

“My dad– saved me?”

Sam leaned over and poked Carmen hard in the chest. “Jerry Berzatto is not your father! I am your father, you call me Dad now.  You’re mine and we belong together. We always have! You’re not like them, and you know it.” 

Carm absentmindedly rubbed the sore spot on his upper chest where Sam’s finger had dug into his skin, barely paying attention to the other man’s proximity. His eyes were fixed on a sketch on the wall, a hand study– he knew it was impossible, but he could almost swear they were Donna’s. Donna’s hands on Sam Morris’s wall. 

And still, Sam kept talking. “We should have been together all of those years. You and me, kid, we’re two of a kind, I just know it. But we can be that way now, Carmen. Make up for lost time. You and me, we don’t need anybody else. You don’t need Don, or Natalie, or that little prick Richie that was always hangin’ around your house,” he gently reached out to cup Carm’s cheek, turning his head so they were face to face once more, “let me be your family now, Carmy.” 

From somewhere in the dimmest shadows of distant memory, there was a flash of something, some impression that he could barely put his finger on. It was the vague notion of a voice, and the smell of cooking grease, sweat, nicotine. Strong arms holding him tight and the voice was saying, “Carmy Bear”. No, wait, maybe it was “I gotcha, Carmy Bear.” 

“Carmy Bear,” he breathed. 

“Huh?” Sam looked confused, not entirely sure what he’d heard. 

“Carmy Bear.” Carmen slapped Sam’s hand away from his face and jumped to his feet. “My name is Carmen Berzatto. I have a family, and I don’t need anything from you.” 

Sam stood now too, looming a full head taller than his son. “You don’t belong in that family and you know that’s the truth. Every time Jerry looked at you, he saw me. Every time Donna looks at you, she sees me. They took care of you, but they don’t love you like I do, Carmen.They never have, and they never wi–” 

Carm shoved Sam hard in the chest, knocking him back onto the futon. He sat there, momentarily stunned, as the younger man stood over him, practically shaking with rage. “You think you’re smart because you exploited the weakness in another man’s marriage? You think there’s something special about you because you took advantage of someone who was lonely and sick? You think you’re some kind of fuckin’ hero because you stole a child?” 

“Carmen, I-” 

“No! You’re nothing to me! Nothing!” He turned away from his father and ran his hands through his hair again, drowning in the waves of emotion breaking over him– anger, sadness, longing, love, hope, and pain. 

Sam was saying something, but Carmy was too far away to listen. He was suddenly overcome with scenes from his childhood, flashing before his eyes like one of those old photo slide shows. 

He was 8. A brief period where Donna was completely sober. The smell of blueberry pancakes on the kitchen table before they left for Mass. Her smile. 

He was 10. Hiding behind some bushes in the backyard after they switched Lee’s ginger ale with mouthwash— Nat’s dark blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun as she kept a hand clapped over her mouth, trying so hard to be quiet and not to giggle. 

He was 14. The first time Richie called him “Cousin”. 

He was 17. Cooking with Mikey, helping him perfect the spaghetti recipe that they’d use at The Beef. Laughing at his crazy stories, experimenting with flavors, not a care in the world. 

He cut Sam off mid-sentence. “I know who I am. And I know where I belong.” He turned to face his father. “I never want to see you again. Stay out of my life, or I’ll make you wish I had never been born.” 

“Mission fuckin’ accomplished,” Sam spat. 

“Fuck you,” Carm muttered as he marched out of the apartment. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if Sam pursued him, but thankfully that didn’t happen. He practically ran down the stairs and through the foyer, hitting the push bar with enough force that he stumbled onto the sidewalk. Once he’d recovered his balance, he shoved his hands in his pockets and marched toward the train station, breath misting in the chilly air. 

__________________________________________________________

When the doorbell rang, Pete and Natalie gave each other puzzled looks across their dining room table. Nat’s eyebrow raised in a silent question, and Pete shrugged. “I’ll go check.” 

He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Carmy when he opened the door. He smiled, clearly thrown. “Oh, hey Carm. Uh, whaa–what’s up?” 

Carmen still had his hands jammed into his pockets, and he didn’t return Pete’s smile, only gave him an apologetic shrug. “Hey Pete. Is Nat here?” 

“Sure, yeah, she’s in the kitchen feeding Antonia her lunch. Come in.” 

As the pair turned the corner into the eat-in kitchen with Pete in the lead, he tried to cover the awkwardness of the unannounced visit by acting excited. “Hey, look who’s here, Nat! Carmen dropped by!” 

From her perch in front of her daughter’s high chair, Natalie looked up, swiping a strand of hair out of her face and inadvertently leaving a smear of sweet potato baby food on her forehead. She was so surprised to see her little brother that she didn’t even notice. 

“Carm? What’s wrong? Is everything okay at the store?” 

Carmen made a simmer down gesture with his hands. “Yeah, everything’s fine, Sugar. I just needed to see ya.”

Well attuned to the usual antics of his wife’s family members, Pete could immediately sense some Berzatto drama incoming. He headed over to grab Antonia. “We’ll just go, and leave you guys to it.” 

“No, Pete, if it’s alright, I’d like her to stay. And you, too.”  

Pete glanced at Nat, who gave the tiniest of nods. He settled into one of the dining chairs. 

Carmen reached down and picked up his niece. Cradling her to his chest, he inhaled deeply. She smelled like Johnson’s baby shampoo and sweet potato puree. As she looked up into his face, he could see so much of Pete in her features, but her earnest expression was all Sugar. He smiled down at her, just taking her in for a second, and then sat down in the nearest chair. 

Natalie could tell there was something weighing on him. And it was freaking her out. She saw Carm looking stressed all the time at work, but this was different. Whatever this was, it was really heavy.  

She leaned toward him, that same serious look on her face that Antonia had. “Carm. Are you okay?” 

Carmen looked from his niece, to his brother-in-law, to his sister, and nodded as if he’d just made up his mind. 

“Sug, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya.” 

Fade to black, credits roll…

[jayssillycreativitybox]

Hey everyone, long time no see huh? Suppose it's been quite the time since I last posted on Tumblr.

To be frank I really don't mean to disappear out of nowhere from Tumblr and then pop back in with a new digital drawing of a goofy character or some traditional doodles and disappear once again

Life has been hard if it helps for some to understand, it's probably useless to write to people who follow me on yet another excuse on why I vanished off the internet-

College started a couple of weeks ago and to be honest it has slapped me in the face- (it feels more like a year of college). College hasn't been quite the same as school was, you get a lot of homework but they are big and you gotta write a lot of essays and for my already sleep deprived ass it is hard-

Due to me being so drained from going to college I began to notice that my hobbies (art) hasn't been so easy to do in my free time because now I'm resting more than I am doing things I love.

I can occasionally make a small doodle or a digital artwork but it's not as frequent as before and I then forget to post it on tumblr-

My mental stability hasn't been well either and I can feel shitty if not for people who are there to be the light in the dark for me. My mood has been low and it's probably because I'm not eating as much or sleeping.

My body feels like it's breaking down as well- constant joint cracking, I'm tired all the time. I most likely have hypermobility, which my parents say I do have they just don't want to give a real doctor's diagnosis,and I have signs of it. That may be the problem for some of the shitty wellbeing I got and pains.

Yes I'm not dead, just not in a very good state at the moment. Sorry if some of you didn't want to hear my ass ramble about my problems-

I hope you all have a wonderful day today and you all take care of yourselves!

[kimquatz]

18 & 24 for the ask meme!

18. Do you have any larger projects you’d like to pursue? Like comics, shortfilm, a series etc?

I DO!!! too many in fact LOL (the ADHD curse...)

fan projects wise, the three biggest ones i want to make are:

- a fan route visual novel based off of the idea that one of the scrapped ideas for Lanque's Friendsim was going to be a masquerade

- a fan comic that explores the backstories of the hvswp jadebloods! (mostly centric around Bronya and Lanque) - Lastly, I'm not sure what format I want to present it a (a fanfic? a comic? an animatic?) but I have also been writing an AU of sorts for the hvswp jades that explore the futures of these characters off-planet :0)

Original projects wise-- nothing TOO crazy big, but I have a few short films that I've either been slowly chipping away at or need to board!

One is a cute and silly short film that me and my friends have been working on that's a bit of a parody on anime fantasy adventure isekais, but it's mostly for fun for us to work on LOL. Another one is a short film about two little dancers that are stuck in a music box and are trying to escape.

24. How do you deal with artblock?

It's funny bc the kinds of artblock i deal with is "i don't have any ideas" (i have TOO much, really), but more like "for some reason my art just won't come out how I want it to." Often, in these kind of scenarios I either just need to stop drawing and do something else for a while OR i try changing it up LOL.

Like if I've been on my tablet drawing people all day, I do something different like just making some shitty traditional doodles instead. One time i got so stuck cos my human drawings were coming out so weird, so i spent a whole month drawing tigers instead LMFAO.

But genuinely tho, my number 1 rule i keep to myself is "don't force yourself to draw if you don't want to." I draw when and what i WANT to draw, and that's when my art comes out the best. As soon as I start feeling antsy i just start doing something else lol.

[cable-salamdr]

Hello! How are you? :)

I came here because I just wanna say...

HOW DARE PEOPLE — I want to know more about your green cousins AU! (I know it's not called that ;-;) I thought people show interest. Am I taking what you said too seriously? You said:

“I don't care if people don't want to know more about this AU, I'm still going to talk about it anyways.”

and you know what? That's the spirit >:)

I want more PLSSSS I'm so curious about this AU! I admit that I'm not a big Morro fan specifically — I still love him though! And the AU's he is in :D Your art is Awesome too by the way! I want to know Lloyd and Morro's dynamic AHHH their relationship PLSSSS

FDBSHUBJIN THANK YOU ASGAHSBHBH

I read this and literally became so happy what the heck. Okay, well. First off, I wasn’t expecting people to really care about this au, no, especially not my random manic rambles. But now, second off: obligatory doodles and art.

I think the most important thing to note is that they are both brats, even if Morro is an adult by the time the show starts— He is an *asshole*!! (/affectionate)

Now. In my head I have it that Morro moves out of the monastery at some point because he’s sick and tired of being around Wu (who at this point begins training Lloyd and other students as well), so he just. nopes the hell outta there. Gets himself a little apartment, yeah. Lloyd goes to “visit him unannounced” sometimes (breaking into said apartment).

For some reason I’ve decided to make Wu really strict? Like, he doesn’t allow Lloyd (neither allowed this for Morro btw) to go out and hang out with other people are try new things unless he’s with him— so obviously Lloyd goes to Morro for when he craves a burger or just wants to hang out in the city without hawk eye supervision. And, like. Morro has a motorbike. What 8 year old doesn’t want to ride on a motorbike with their estranged older cousin? (Another part I shamelessly ripped off from Jason Todd 😔)

More old art (the last one being the oldest traditional art I could find this being all the way back from… uhhhhh… July of last year):

The gist is. Lloyd is really confused as to why Morro is so distant so obv the only viable solution as being to annoy the shit out of him by continuously showing up at his doorstep.

Morro just wants to try and have a normal life without being constantly reminded that he’s a failure, but sadly he still cares for this little brat (and Wu of course, but no one tell him I said that). Half of his monthly wages are spent on buying Lloyd dino nuggies and random shitty toys that he sees in market stores. They also do pranks together. Oh so many pranks.

And Wu is just trying to figure out why tf his students keep not listening to him and disappearing (it would probably help if he stopped being a Bit of An Asshole (he is mostly concerned that they will do something stupid like he did as a child, so he compensates by keeping them tight under locks)).

End of rant/ exposition dump!

[noxchievous]

~✨Welcome to my girlblog✨~

this is where I post my EPIC and RADICAL art

I draw a variety of things, but mostly fan art and OCs. My art is Awesome and you will Love It Here

Frequently used tags

Fan art will be tagged but I don’t feel like listing every fandom I’ve drawn for here.

#traditional art and #digital art - whichever I am using, it will be tagged

#doodles - shitty little self-indulgent doodles

#concept art - concept art! It’s the same as the doodles but more purposeful. i do not use it frequently

#animation - for the rare occasions 

#belostrap - belos x springtrap art

#Mob&Miku - all my Mob and Miku crossover friendship art

#misc - miscellaneous pieces with no particular characters or fandoms in mind

#epic answers to awesome asks - tag used for the 2 asks I’ve recieved. Thank u bitty bee ^_^

#not art - everything that isn’t art!

I have a lot of OCs to draw. Here are their tags!

#torma oc - Torma and her story

#The Living Ship - MariLynn, Lemonflower, their living ship, and the rest of their story

#Petal and Thorn - my warrior cat fanclans, and all the ocs in that story

#Marijuana wcats - my 3 weed-smoking warrior cats ocs

#Dandelion :3 and #The Tiger :]c - my fursonas, Dandelion and Tiger respectively 

#Lemmy&Cateye - my steven universe ocs! Encompasses more than just Lemmy and Cateye

#Slimda - sexyman descendant. She has 3 posts

#Merk - my old moomin oc, named Merk

#Star’s Corpse - old story idea, tag contains some concept art and one full illustration 

#The Little Monster - another old story that I made some banger art for

This directory will be better eventually ! But I’m not built for that today

[greasycockroachmf]

Twitter request for @kimbleeofficial

Pose taken from here

[sweet-by-and-by]

Heart on Your Sleeve- Arthur Morgan x John Marston

summary: Arthur spent 20 years working his ass off to become the top artist at Van Der Linde Ink, the high-end traditional shop founded by Dutch Van Der Linde and Hosea Matthews. Who does John think he is, showing up with his ignorant style and calling it art? A modern tattoo shop!AU

pairing: Arthur Morgan x John Marston

a/n: Did writing this make me want to get another tattoo? You bet your ass it did. Inspired by the same art by StrawBaby as my 2021 Reverse Bang x, along with the incredible art of Veradia x. Tattooed John just seems to awaken something in me. Love as always ❤️

AO3

The buzz of a tattoo machine always riled John up.

The thrum of the coils vibrating sent electricity down his spine; filled him with a rush that no drug could ever replicate.

He had found tattooing young, having spent most of his youth in shitty basements listening to even shitter music with friends. Bouncing from house to house, desperately trying to find something that made him worth keeping around.

So when someone thrust a machine in his hand and told him to draw, he did his best. Luckily, they were both so fucked up that neither of them minded how terrible it had turned out. 

But even luckier for him, he had found his niche.

Tattoos were everywhere nowadays. Having grown from the prison ink he knew as a kid in the streets to a real, viable career path if he played his cards right.

The first step was to get himself clean. After being turned away by as many shops as he entered, dismissed as “just some junkie”, he found someone to take him on. On the condition that he quit all the shit that had led him there in the first place.

He’d been six months sober, and had been tattooing for just as long. Worked to make himself a place at Van Der Linde Ink, a high-end name in these parts of the city. Why on earth Dutch and Hosea, the owners, had given him a shot was beyond him. But he knew he didn’t want to let them down and throw all of this away.

Drawing had never been one of John’s strong points. He’d barely even doodled since his days in middle school. He was just as confused as anyone on the day that machine was shoved in his hands. After finding a love for the act of tattooing, no matter how badly the ink had turned out, he struggled to reconcile his abilities with his dreams.

And then shitty tattoos came into style.

It was perfect timing that he couldn’t have planned even if he tried. People heading to shops for tattoos that any idiot with Amazon could do in their basement, minus the hepatitis. Instagram loved his ignorant tattoos, and Van Der Linde Ink had been looking to bring themselves into the new age of trendy ink.

So he landed a station within a lineup of history. The traditional shop was trying to break away from their uptight, rigid image, and their hope lay with John and the slew of new artists they had brought on. 

A shout from across the shop dragged him back to reality, breaking his concentration on the leg he was currently tattooing.

“Yer’ lines are lookin real sloppy there, Marston!” Arthur jabbed. John could hear the smirk in his voice, and didn't need to bother glancing up to confirm that Arthur was heading his way.

“Don’t worry about him,” he assured his client, who had shot upright at Arthur’s critique. “He’s just bored since no one wants his old man style today. You’re doing great, we’re almost finished here.”

The client huffed before resting back in his seat, grimacing as John returned to his work.

“Aww, don’t be sore, Marston. It’s good to get opinions from all the artists here. Even if your work barely falls in that category,” Arthur continued, his sarcasm cutting straight through to John’s nerves.

“Yes, but maybe we can keep our opinions to ourselves until the artists are finished,” Hosea interjected, glaring at Arthur from over his newspaper. “And perhaps until the clients have gone,” he whispered harshly, only audible to John’s listening ear.

It was wise to heed Hosea’s warnings, so with a roll of his eyes and a grumble under his breath, Arthur grabbed a cigarette from his shirt pocket and stepped out for a smoke.

John relaxed at his departure, trying not to let the older man’s comments get to him. His linework wasn’t perfect, but what artists’ was? John may not be the best in the shop, but he was damn good at hiding his mistakes. Besides, he’d never had a client complain.

Not yet at least. Today might be a first, if Arthur kept at it.

He glanced up at Hosea as he came to stand beside the client, leaning back to take a break and give the man a better view. He tapped his foot nervously when Hosea leaned in to study the piece closer and give his own critique.

“It may not be my taste necessarily, but your technique is good. Your hand is steady and your line weight is consistent. You’re doing a fine job, John. I assure you, you’re in good hands sir,” Hosea schmoozed the client on the table, clapping John on the shoulder and appeasing his customer with a reassuring smile.

The corner of John’s mouth quirked up in thanks, the praise bringing back some of his confidence. He finished the tattoo with no further interruption, Arthur choosing to spare him even further humiliation. He wiped down the tattoo, snapped a quick shot for his portfolio, and sent another happy client on their way with an aftercare sheet and his thanks.

“I ain’t never met someone so grateful for every tattoo they do,” Arthur ribbed, returning to his teasing now that the customer had left the building. “I swear, you look this close to blowin’ every client before they leave.”

John stammered at Arthur’s crude comment, speechless and flustered. He stomped back to his station to resume cleaning up, eager to get away from Arthur’s sharp tongue.

“Yeah, well at least I still like doin’ my job. Why you always gotta be such a sourpuss to all of your clients?” John glowered, busying himself with re-capping his ink bottles.

“A sourpuss?” Arthur asked incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as his lips stretched into a cheshire grin.

“Yeah, a goddamn sourpuss,” John snapped back. Arthur couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him at the phrase. 

“Well I’m sorry, Princess,” he chuckled, “I’ll make sure to get you some salt to cut that sour next time.”

“And maybe some tequila if you two don’t shut the hell up,” Karen interjected, rolling her eyes at the two bickering men. She tipped back in her chair, crossing her arms and shooting a glare at them from across the room.

John finished cleaning his station and packed his tools away, grabbing his sketchbook and throwing himself onto one of the waiting room couches. The big comfortable cushions all but swallowed him, and he stretched his long limbs over the arm to make himself comfortable as he settled in to work on some flash. Abigail, the shop receptionist, watched on with an arched brow, clicking her tongue as she busied herself at her computer.

“You know it’s my job to clean between clients, you didn’t have to do all that,” she mused, stealing a glance at the lanky man.

“Didn’t feel much like standing around and gettin’ berated,” John muttered.

“Oh, you know he just does it ‘cause it gets you so riled up. He’s like a school yard bully; just don’t give him a reaction and he’ll leave ‘ya alone,” she teased, trying to keep the smirk off her face. Anyone with sense knew that Arthur was picking on John more than any other artist that had come through these doors. Most blamed his style, not seeing his scribbles as the same breath of fresh air that Hosea and Dutch did. 

But Abigail knew better. She’d been here long enough to see all kinds. Had heard enough whispers when people thought no one was listening.

Arthur Morgan was sweet on John.

And he had no clue how to show it.

--

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, clients rolling in and out for their scheduled appointments. One by one the gang folded up their stations and took off for the weekend, excitement buzzing as they discussed their plans. Abigail was the last to leave, throwing John a pointed look as she locked the front door and said her goodbyes to Arthur, insisting that he finish up and get himself home at a reasonable hour.

Arthur liked the quiet of the shop at the end of the day. It gave him a chance to relax, to work without prying eyes and the commentary of his coworkers. This place had been a home to him for close to twenty years, and in its quiet moments gave him the peace he needed to get his best work done.

Half an hour deep into a drawing for an upcoming session, a sheet of paper was shoved angrily in his face. He was startled by the intrusion, deep in focus on meeting all of the appointment’s needs.

Arthur righted himself quickly, taking a better look at the page pushed at him. John grinned as he watched the older man take in his latest design, satisfaction fuelling him even further as Arthur’s lips fell into a frown.

“Really?” Arthur tsked, his brow furrowing as he looked over the piece.

“Really,” John replied cockily. “I’m thinkin’ it’s my best work yet.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes, but said nothing to contradict John’s statement. He took the sketchbook page from John, careful not to smudge the wet ink as he examined the piece.

The dark image of a black cat, its face screwed up in a wince, stared up at Arthur from the table. Big bold letters, encased in a crude rendition of a traditional banner, spelled the words “SOURPUSS”.

It was certainly no American-traditional panther, but Arthur had to admit that the design was at least legible. There was no question of its subject, and even Arthur would give credit where it was due.

But of course, never to John.

“You know, this actually ain’t your usual lineup of terrible scribbles,” he admitted, the compliment sounding too good to John’s ears. “Too bad you couldn’t tattoo it if ‘yer life depended on it,” the older man jeered.

John scowled, fuming at how easily Arthur had turned him around. “I can so!” he protested, “I reckon’ that’d be the best tattoo I ever did!”

“Prove it then,” Arthur challenged, pushing himself away from the desk and gesturing towards his arm. “Why don’t you show us all just how great of an artist you can really be, Johnny.”

John prickled at the suggestion, snatching the paper from Arthur’s hands and shoving him out of the chair. “Fine,” he conceded, “go sit yourself at my station, and don’t touch any of my stuff!”

–

It wasn’t long before John had the stencil completed, determined as he stormed across the shop. Arthur rolled his eyes and stood from where he was lounging across John’s chair. 

The older man gestured towards a gap in his sleeve that the design could go, tucked away in a barely visible space on the back of his left bicep.

“This ain’t much room to work with,” John complained, but applied the stencil anyway.

“Yeah well I ain’t putin’ it anywhere the world gets to see it,” Arthur snipped back.

“Could’a put it on your ass for all I care,” John muttered, the comment slipping out before he could give it a second thought. Arthur averted his gaze as his cheeks tinged red, surprised by his reaction to John’s boldness.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched John smooth down the stencil and graciously ignore Arthur’s fluster.

Once the design was on, John adjusted the chair to lay flat and instructed Arthur to stretch out at his station. The older man huffed as he lay face-down across the saran wrapped leather, settling into position so that they could get started.

John rolled his stool up beside the makeshift bed and set to work, the buzz of his machine making Arthur’s heart lurch as his body caught up with what was going on. No matter how many times he’d gone under the needle, nerves still flooded him before every tattoo. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing, letting his thoughts wander to keep his mind occupied.

He hadn’t really thought that John would have such a strong reaction to his teasing. For all of his prodding, the kid had come a long way from his first days in the shop. He was excited to learn and worked twice as hard as the rest of the artists in the shop, something that Dutch and Hosea must have recognized when they decided to bring him on.

He also hadn’t exactly thought about the location he’d chosen; on the back of his bicep directly beside a poorly drawn heart with the word “Mary” inside inked by dainty, inexperienced hands.

Apparently he was developing a habit of offering himself as a practice canvas.

John’s touch was light, gentle in a way he would never have predicted. He wanted to criticize the man, poke him and tell him that the ink wouldn’t stay if he didn’t go deep enough. But he knew he was reaching, and that John’s touch would make the process less painful.

He quickly halted that train of thought and let his eyes roam around the room. It had been a while since he’d been tattooed there, and it was strange to see the place from the eyes of a client. Bill’s collection of animal skulls nailed to the walls, Karen’s grotesque watercolours pinned around her station. The details that he missed in his day to day, but the ones that showed off the shop’s misfit personalities.

He caught a glimpse of John in a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. He was hunched over Arthur’s arm, working diligently for his chance to prove himself. Arthur couldn’t help himself from staring. John’s hair hung low, the shaggy cut framing his face and complementing his sharp features. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, his piercing catching the light when he cocked his head. Deep scars added intensity to his slight frown. He looked serious and passionate and beautiful, and Arthur couldn’t look away.

A flash of pain dragged him from his thoughts as John worked towards his inner bicep. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sensitive spot, tensing involuntarily against the needle’s touch.

“It’s okay,” John soothed, his voice gentler than Arthur was used to. “I won’t be here long.”

Arthur only nodded in response, favouring silence to ignore the fluttering feeling in his stomach and the tightening of his chest. He cursed his body for betraying him. For making it impossible to deny the impact John had on him.

The rest of the tattoo went smoothly and quickly. Arthur could feel the smug grin John fixed him with as the younger man leaned back in his chair, declaring his masterpiece finished as he shut off his machine.

“Think I was right,” he boasted. “This damn well may be my best tattoo ever.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off the chair, crossing the room to examine the finished product in the mirror.

He twisted himself around to get a better look, picking it apart as he eyed the tattoo. He scowled and opened his mouth to let his commentary roll, but stopped when he caught sight of John in the mirror.

The man was beaming with pride, cocky as all hell and wearing it well. His confidence only added to the attraction Arthur always felt, and he couldn’t find it in him to tear into John like usual.

It was a ridiculous style that Arthur loathed to call art, but the linework was clean and free of blowout. The design may not have been some show of all that tattooing could be, but it demonstrated an improvement in technique that Arthur couldn’t ignore.

“It ain’t terrible,” he finally said, his face softening as John’s smile grew wider. “I ain’t waxin’ poetic, and I’m still glad it ain’t anywhere anyone’s gonna see, but you’ve gotten better. Seems like you’ve been absorbing some wisdom through that thick skull of yours after all.”

“I told you, I’m not awful!”

“And I’ll tell you that you’ve still got a lot to learn. Your design is sloppy, that’s barely what I’d call shading, and I can see where your hand got tired halfway through. But I’ll take you on, show you what Dutch and Hosea showed me.”

“You’ll what?” John’s smile faltered dumbfoundedly, his expression turning to one of confusion.

“I’ll teach you how to draw, you idiot,” Arthur huffed, turning to face John. “We can practice after work when the place clears out. Can’t hardly learn a thing with all those morons running around, and you’ve sure as shit got some hard work ahead. But we’ll make an artist of you yet, if you’re willing.”

The younger man’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide like a deer stuck in headlights. Arthur fought back the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, refusing to acknowledge how adorable John looked in that moment.

“I…I don’t rightly know what to say,” John remarked, wary as he seemed to mull over Arthur’s proposal.

“Why don’t you start with ‘thank you’,” Arthur scoffed sarcastically. “Now get this thing wrapped up and clean your shit before I realize what the hell I let you do to me.”

John rolled his eyes as Arthur returned, reaching for his alcohol bottle to clean him up. He wiped away the blood and ink just as gently as he tattooed, and Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at John’s tenderness.

“Thank you,” he heard John say, voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t control the shudder that went down his spine, making him freeze in place as John bandaged his arm.

Arthur all but ran away once he was finished, turning on his heel and fleeing to the draft table to collect his things before John could notice the red colour in his face. John watched him dumbfoundedly, his own blush rising to turn the tips of his ears pink.

Abigail was definitely going to have to explain this one to him.

[forever-rogue]

hi babes! could u do a javier peña x reader where the girl works w javi & steve and she and javi have been the closest friends ever but javi develops feelings for her and after he sees her back home from a date all happy he gets super jealous and finally decides to tell her he loves her and she says it back, something like that xx

I love this so much 🥺 Enjoy 🥰💕

Javier x Fem!Reader; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Its Friday night and Javi is bored. Not bored bored...but bored. The excitement of the week has left him buzzing with energy and he's not quite sure how to get it out. He's decidedly not going to the bar or to spend the evening with temporary company. No - that hadn't been his deal in some time...not since you. But he'd never admit that. Despite the fact that you knew - everyone knew. 

Instead, he comes up with the plan to do what the two of you often end up doing at the end of a hectic week - unwind with some bad television, cheap beer, and even cheaper pizza. Its become a bit of an unspoken tradition and you relish in it - both of you. Its a thing that's so easy, so effortless but fun for the both of you. 

So, he's at your door, pizza in hand and a six pack tucked under his arm knocking loudly. He's eagerly waiting, humming with nervous energy just at the mere thought seeing you. Javier wasn't sure when he'd turned from an experienced grown man to a nervous boy, but you always had that effect on him….and he didn't mind.

When you opened the door a few moments later, his jaw almost dropped as he took in the sight of you, looking more beautiful than anyone should be allowed to. You offered him a big smile, the one he most definitely fell in love with, when you looked him over. Your hair and makeup was done and your dress was enough to make him weak on the knees.

And then, as you put in your earrings, you realized you'd completely spaced on telling him that your weekly plan wasn't going to work tonight.

"Wow, you look beautiful-"

"Javi, tonight's not going to work-"

You both started at the same time. As soon as his words you hit your ears, a flush of warmth rose up in your face. Sure, he'd told you that you've looked nice before, but something about how he had just said it was...different. 

"Oh."

"Yeah," you offered him an apologetic look, "I'm so sorry, Javi. I completely forgot to tell you - it just happened so fast." 

"You...you have plans?" his face dropped slightly as you nodded, an odd wash of disappointment clouded over you. 

"I...I have a date," you were staring at your feet as he cleared his throat. Gods, you were already regretting this. But...but Javier had never asked and you weren't sure if he ever would and oh gods, the idea of asking him seemed impossible and this had seemed like a good distraction at the time. The almost painful look on Javier's face, quickly concealed into an emotionless mask was enough to make you regret your decision, "umm...Eric. He asked me out today."

"And you said yes."

"I said yes," you agreed with the accusation, "I wasn't thinking...I completely forgot its Friday and if I would have realized I wouldn't have said yes."

"No, don't worry about it. It's fine," the tone of his voice suggested that it was anything but fine. You were tempted to just stay in with Javi and cancel your plans. Maybe if either of you would finally just say something - anything, "you should definitely go out with Eric. It'll make his whole year. Have fun, Dulzura…"

"Javi," you tried to grab his free hand but he quickly pulled out of your grasp, the gesture harsh and biting, "Javier! I don't have to go…I can stay."

"And why would you do that?" he turned around, his eyes narrowed as he tried to get a read on you. It was a challenge - to see if either of you would willingly break. 

"You know why," you insisted firmly, wishing you could just say the words. But both of you were too steadfast and stubborn to give in, "say it and I'll stay. But I need you to say it."

"There's nothing to say," he said sharply, the slightest bit of crack to his voice, "have a good time. With Eric."

"Javi," you called after him, eyes stinging and threatening to spill over with unshed tears as he refused to turn back around and walked back to his own apartment. He couldn't have meant it...right? Surely he didn't… "Javier!"

He heard you. Of course he did. The whole building easily could have.

But he didn't stop. And you didn't go after him.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Eric was...nice. Kind, funny, charming, and handsome. He was everything a woman could dream of; you'd known him for a while and it was easy to see why someone would fall for him. When you got to the restaurant, he pulled out your chair, and ordered a nice bottle of wine. 

Conversation was polite - funny and flirtatious. Everything you'd expect on a date.

And yet...the whole time, your mind was absent. You were there, smiling and laughing at the appropriate times, but your mind kept wandering. No matter how much you wanted to like him….it all went back to Javier.

You didn't want Eric - you didn't want anything like him.

You wanted Javier. Him and only him. 

Even if he didn't want you, you were going to tell him. You couldn't keep up this silly little dance, skirting around the issue and never talking about it. You had to do this.

That's why you left the date early, making up a shitty excuse you were sure he could see through. You felt bad - he was nice, but you had to do this. 

As you ran into your apartment building, heels in hand, you were making a beeline for Javier's apartment. But instead of making it to his palce, you stopped when you spied a figure in front of your own door.

"Javier," you were breathless as you stared into this soft brown eyes. His gaze was locked onto yours as his chest and rose fell heavily.

"Dulzura," he reached for your hand and pulled you tightly against him, "fuck what I said earlier. Fuck Eric and whatever we've been doing. I-"

"I'm in love with you," you quickly cut him off, watching as a look of surprise crossed his features before a small tugged on the corners of his mouth, "you're a jerk and an asshole sometimes, but damn - I'm in love with you."

A hand tenderly went to your cheek as he watched you closely, his eyes searching yours as you just gently nodded at him. He slowly raised his other hand to your face, cradling it gently before crashing his lips onto yours. 

Finally. Finally. Finally.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him close, carding a hand through his dark locks. The way he kissed you and you eagerly kissed back was like the two of you had done this a million times before. There was no awkwardness, no tension, no hassle - it just was. And it was utterly perfect.

Kissing Javier Peña was better than you could have ever dreamed. And after all this time it was finally a reality.

Your hand went to his shoulders and onto his chest as you slowly broke apart for a breath of air. He was looking at you in such a reverent manner, but his eyes were nervous - a quality you almost never saw in them. His warm, large hands found purchase on your waist as you leaned in for another kiss, this was soft and gentle before he chased your lips with a few of his own. You drank in the moment, nuzzling your nose against his as you felt him smile against your lips.

"Me too," he whispered softly, but paused when he realized this wasn't enough - he needed to do this properly, "I love you - I'm in love with you."

"Good," you beamed at him, making his heart melt. Gods, that how he knew this was right - no one had ever had this effect on him, not even his former fiancé, "this would have been awkward otherwise."

"Sorry for being such an asshole earlier," he grimaced at the thought of what could have happened if the two of you hadn't both suddenly hit a revelation, "I just…"

"I know," you shushed him by putting a finger to his lips, "I know. Maybe this is exactly what we needed - a push in the right direction."

"Yeah," he agreed, grinning gently at you, "I just...the thought of you with him made me...I hated it."

"I know," you nodded towards, "do you...do you want to come inside? Its Friday night after all."

"Hmm," he kissed your forehead, a knowing grin exchanged between the two of you, "I'd like that a lot, Dulzura."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[mads-martinis]

10/18/17

[tabletop-nightmare]

i'd love to share more of my art, but i'm going through a mental block right now. i have some tutorials saved, but nothing turns out decent because i don't learn art on a schedule. i'm entirely self-taught, so i don't know how to stick to anything :(

you got any advice?

Sorry it's been a day I had to sleep on this question and think up some answers. Mental blocks and artist block sucks ass and there's very little way around it but I'll give you tips and such that have at least helped me. This was a list I threw together at 2 in the morning so excuse it for not being the most organized. I'll admit this first one I just discovered in a bit of an epiphany. I've been watching a lot of Inked episodes on youtube and in this particular one an artist talks about loving the process not the finished piece due to the fact that tattoos leave with the client, but I felt it fit with art in general. It can be hard and it's a hard to shift into loving the process instead of the final piece because we live in a society (tm) that puts emphasis on what we create for every one else to see. But learning to love what you make whether or not it's what you wish people to see is a good way to remind yourself that art is a journey and you're constantly learning. This next one can be tricky, and I am not a pro at it either, but seriously, if you make a piece of art, post it. It doesn't matter if it's here on on Discord amongst friends. I went into a deep depression and stopped posting art anywhere, and once I started feeling like making art again I first posted it to Discord. Friends are great first steps because they are that positive boost you might need in order to push yourself to post your art somewhere else. I know my doodles and art pieces aren't going to get any love here on Tumblr but by pushing myself to post those things I just feel productive and have the energy to make bigger pieces and be proud of them. I myself was self taught for a lot of years, and even if you are in school to learn you are still technically teaching yourself. Art is tricky like that. So these may seem obvious but references are you're friend, and references of things you enjoy!! Be inspired by your references; when it comes to digital art I've been inspired a lot by religous paintings and Mucha's art nouveau pieces, like to the point you can find the piece I used as main reference. And that's ok, I think there is a huge pressure on artists to be original and it's a huge weight especially if you struggle with mentally making a picture (like I do) and such. Much of my traditional art is gorey fight the patriarchy pinups where I take famous Elvgren pinups and put my own twist on them. But I do it because I love the feeling it provokes in me, not anybody else. This is going to always be a polarized opinion, but seriously trace things. I have just now started to not feel the huge guilt of tracing, because when you are tired, when you don't want to put all of the mental capacity into building from the ground up, trace. It helps strengthen your muscle memory and leaves you feeling good about what you created out of inspiration of anothers work. Disclaimer obviously, a lot of the works I use as reference/tracing are older pieces. I change them enough to become my own and I always credit the work. And none of it is for monetary gain, but it gives me the boost to go on and make my own pieces. We all know the planning part of art sucks (even sometimes the sketching part) so being able to jump that hurdle for the most part can really give your brain the rest it needs. And finally the shitty awful but true answer, draw stuff that is boring and you hate. The one and only thing I learned from art school is that if you push yourself to do things you may find boring, you'll be more likely to learn from the process then care about the final image. And then to push yourself extra hard, really get serious with it. Some of my best traditional work is stuff that when I sat down I was not excited to do. But now I can put words to it which is: I fell in love with the process. All I can really do is give you anecdotal evidence so I'll leave you with this: The best painting I have ever done in my life was a abstract that then sold for 350 dollars, the only art piece to be sold in my entire schools art show. And I hated hated abstract art before

then, I didn't get it I thought it was all black squares same color kinda deals but, when I sat down terrified of what dumb shit I was about to make I just learned to let that stress go and used it as a way out of my normal everyday arting. And it is the best piece I have ever made.

TLDR; Find things that resonate with you, find things that don't, do both.

[the-fandom-fuckup]

Kirikacchako? Please

I'm not sure if this is referencing a specific prompt from like.. An older post or not, but I've been on a bit of an au kick lately so I'm gonna use this as a plug for some of the aus/ideas I've had, so I hope that's alright ^-^

(I'd offer a doodle for your troubles but... I don't have any to offer rn gjskfksjfkak)

One of the most recent ideas I've had is Kirichako sirens x hoh/ace pirate Baku, in which Kirichako are a mated pair of sirens that travel the seas together to prey on unsuspecting sailors and Baku is a pirate that spends a bit too much time around the cannons n explosives, resulting in hearing loss over time

Upon meeting Baku for the first time Kiri n Ochako are both fascninated and peeved. Fascinated bc no one's ever looked them in the eyes during their song and resisted them like he has, and peeved bc immediately after staring at them Baku tried killing them with explosives

Like sure, they've met people on the seas that have been resistent to either their song or bodies before, but never someone who was unaffected by both. They didn't know whether to be more interested or insulted honestly

((They go with interested, but tell themselves they're insulted bc it's easier to admit))

N honestly I don't have much here, but they end up following Baku's ship around bc it has some good benefits (provides them with protection from bigger sea creatures, food from all the ships they destroy/people they fuck up), and also they just like bothering Baku until they get a reaction from him

They don't sing to him anymore, but they chitter at him n throw pretty sea trinkets up against the ship/into open cannon flaps for him to find later

The last thing I have for this idea is the courting process probably starts bc Baku tripped on the sea trinkets one too many times while carrying out his duties n gets pissed, so he goes up to the main deck to get their attention before chucking some sparkly, garbage thing back at them hoping to distract them enough to get them to fuck off. But the sirens look at their new gift and go wait... Returned gift?? A courting gift?? Which goes to kickstarts a whole new wave of bullshit lmao, rip Baku's sanity

Another idea I wanna shoehorn these guys into is my EnjiRei/TodoDeku mafia bodyguard au, but I'm not too sure on how to go about it tbh like

One one hand, I could have Kiri in with the Todorokis n Ochako in with All Might's group, and have Baku be the unsuspecting civilian just trying to live his life but has attracted the attention of both gang members, who then treat it as a rivalry of who gets Baku first but end up seeing each other as more than just rival groups when the gangs actually start working together n they get paired to run jobs, and has everyone spiralling into a mess of feelings and highjinks before leveling out to smth manageable

On another hand I could have a similar idea with Kacchako as the rivaling gang members and Kiri as the unsuspecting civilian, or maybe even some other underground member like an underground ring fighter or a runner or whatever, who gets scouted by the groups bc his reputation in the ring gets him a gig as some extra muscle or smth for an outside job

And then on the last hand I could have pre-established Kiribaku as the gang members (in the same gang this time) and Ochako as the civilian making bad deals with shady people for extra cash to try and help her family out of their shitty finacial situation, taking jobs she has no business taking (probably from the rising group that's fucking up everything for everyone else tbh) n catching the boys' attention bc "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in the sleazy part of town? Don'tcha know shit gets dangerous around here?" And they're endeared by her spunk n unwillingness to crumble under pressure so they take her under their wing to show her the ropes but also gives them their kicks bc they get off on corrupting her innocent n naive moral compass, all while being hunted by the other group bc she ditched their jobs n now has to face the consequences or smth, Idk idk

It would help if I had any understanding of how mobs/organised crime shit worked or even watched those kinds of shows/movies lmaofnakfmdjs

I'll finish it off with the modern fantasy au I've been thinking about bc I love it dearly, staring alpha werewolf Baku, alpha dragon Kiri, and bamf witch Ochako

At some point or other Baku gets the entire Bakusquad + Deku, Tetsu, Camie, and Ochako living in his packhouse bc he takes a great deal of pride in caring for his pack members and it's actually really easy for his alpha to categorise people as pack, but you'd have to pull out all his teeth before he admits it

Some of them just decided they lived there now n didn't leave, but both Kiri (+Tetsu) and Ochako were brought in by Baku bc his alpha's love language is acts of service/providing and clearly they both benefitted from the move so "why tf are you making such a big deal about it?? Just pack your shit n get it moved in, you've got a week"

Kirikacchako dance around each other hardcore in this au, to the exasperation of everyone else. The alphas try to play off their urges to provide n scentmark as subtly as possible, and since Ochako isn't aware of the meaning it goes pretty well. But literally everyone else is rolling their eyes n making bets on how long it takes them to get their shit together lmaojdidudj

A scene I have pictured for them (and the first one I came up with for this au) is Ochako going out somewhere and Kiri n Baku both casually scent her before she heads out, thinking they're all slick n shit. But as soon as she leaves Deku levels them with the most deadpan expression he can make n says "that was the least subtle thing I've ever seen in my life", and as Baku snaps n goes "I dunno what you're talking about" Kiri replies with a smug "I wasn't trying to be😏"

And like. Realistically the alphas know Ochako isn't really an omega, but she does share some traditional omega qualities that have their alphas going wild (period cycle=heat cycle, round n squishy but will fight you=strength n size for providing healthy pups + the ability to protect them, etc.) so it's understandable that their alphas would slip up n refer to her as their omega, right? Right??

It also doesn't help that after taking Ochako with them on full moon runs, she's been chatting with some of the betas n omegas there and asking how to better communicate with the boys (to avoid miscommunication, she says). But they've both marked her so much that the betas n omegas think she's their courted omega, so they teach her vocal cues n what they mean coming from an alpha, and teach her how to purr and chirp in response.

They don't think to mention the significance behind some of the cues they teach her bc why would they? Smelling as strongly as she does, there's no way those alphas aren't going to give her their bite n bond with her. Why would they need to explain some of the more provocative noises they teach her? They're just helping her for when her alphas decide it's the right time to mate her, is all

I haven't gotten around to how their tension n dancing breaks, but it does eventually n they do get together n bond and all that good stuff, and eventually they have werewolf/dragon/magic hybrid babies bc I have quirkbabes design in another au n I'm obviously dropping them into every au I possibly can bc I love them n put a lot of work into them (and they're super pretty, so I'm showing them off where ever I can assuming I actually draw smth for this au eventually rip)

And wow, this is getting kinda long n rambly so I'm gonna end it here, but I hope that this was kinda what you were looking for landkwidjdkwbf

If you wanna know more about any of the aus just let me know, I could ramble forever

Or if you have any other kirikacchako ideas you wanna hear about feel free to drop them off, I don't mind!! ^-^