#doughboy

[skwtches]

thinks about me and my friend’s D&D characters and dies all over again.

Heavily based on and referenced from this WWI-era valentines postcard:

[treasuregamble]

the Pillsbury Doughboy. he's poppin' fresh (what can't he do)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[neonkewpie]

Shortest and tallest

[recursive360]

(via GIPHY)

[vinnfeyntheinsane]

Doughboy (Or, The Modern Prometheus)

Here is the Vinn Lore story that was requested by most (by most I mean @sallymew4. The sarcastic and pompous tone is intentional. Also, my mother is amazing lmao, she was reasonably very stressed about the downfall of society. And her 40,000 children.)

To set the scene, the year is 2020. It is the height of COVID and I am trapped in my home. I am bored out of my fucking mind.

---

One day, I was in the backyard, sitting on a rock, poking listlessly at dirt with a stick. Perhaps the symbols I inscribed in that dirt were meaningful, however none can say now, as they were soon drowned by the sprinklers, which turned on unexpectedly. They drenched the dirt, my stick, and my socks.

I did not move. I watched the sprinklers. They were faulty, and their water rarely managed to reach the cacti they were aiming for. In great coughing gurgles, these sprinklers spewed the lifeblood of the desert into the ashen dirt, turning the lifeless grey soil into a rich brown mud.

I tested the wet sand with my stick, aimlessly swirling the mud into patterns. It was thick, claylike. I knelt beside a puddle of sprinkler water, and I plunged my hands deep into the mud. I gathered a fistful of loamy clay, and rolled it into a ball.

It held.

Humans exist to create art, and the world exists as a canvas. Thus, the resulting creation was a work of divine art, a carnal creation of the purest instinct. It is impossible to say how many ancient ancestors I mirrored as I stretched and shaped wet clay into crude shapes. Clay was used to create monuments which house Egyptian pharaohs. It was used to create sculptures which have withstood the passage of millennia. On this day, it was used to create a creature of my own imagining. A beautiful piece of artwork which was shaped from dry desert, flowing water, and nimble fingers.

When my piece was done, I laid it upon hot concrete. The sun shone brightly that day, blessing my artwork with her rays, taking away the moisture it no longer needed. The once-malleable clay slowly began to harden. Creation was over, and now was the time for permanence.

In the meantime, I washed my hands in the sprinkler. The remnants of vibrant soil which had stuck to my hands slowly diluted as the water ran over them in brown rivulets. I turned to my artwork, and dried my hands on my pants. I picked up my creation, which was now hardened to the consistency of gingerbread. It was perfect. *He* was perfect.

The name of my creation was Doughboy. Images cannot truly express how glorious this clay creature was, but I will do my best to recreate him in a drawing:

Doughboy was a son to me. He was not the child of my womb, but the child of my hands. As mothers shape their children in the cradle of their stomachs, I shaped Doughboy in the cradle of my fingers. This is, perhaps, why my first instinct was to show my own mother what I had created.

I re-entered the confines of my home, cradling Doughboy in my arms. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the comparative darkness of the indoors. Away from the golden rays of the sun, Doughboy's colour seemed to fade. The magic of his creation diminished ever so slightly in my mind. I inhaled deeply.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM-"

The person in question came running towards my call. Her hair was in a frazzled updo, her eyes were wild with stress, and there was a phone to her ear.

"MOM, LOOK," I announced, "I HAVE CREATED A MAN FROM DIRT AND WATER. I AM THE MODERN PROMETHEUS. MOM. MOOMMMM ARE YOU LISTENING?"

I had not noticed that my mother was on the phone until her eyes flicked from the receiver to my face. I paled as I saw the virulent look in her eyes. They locked to mine, holding them there, as she gesticulated wildly for me to shut up.

"Yes, sorry," she chirped over the line, "(insert insurance gibberish here)...blahblahblah write that down."

Rejection sliced through my heart. The pain of a pup being rejected by it's mother is no small thing, and I staggered away from the blow, through the back door, and back into the sun. I turned from the door, and in the brief instance before it closed, I saw my mother do the same.

Even in separation, we mirrored each other. Save one thing, and one alone. My mother cradled her cold and sterile phone, while I clutched a warm and living Doughperson.

In that moment, I vowed not to abandon Doughboy. I would not hurt him as I had been hurt. The cycle of generational trauma would end with me. As I made this solemn vow, tears coursed down my face, and dripped onto the eyes of Doughboy. Salty tears traced the contours of his face, melting the hardened clay. I patted his cheeks back into place, set him gently by my side, and sobbed.

Then I went back inside a little while later and completely forgot about Doughboy, until my siblings found him on the concrete. They thought he was a voodoo doll placed there by Satan. I explained what actually happened, and my mother came out and laughed until she cried. She apologized for not paying attention to me the first time. Then she did a photoshoot with Doughboy. I let my siblings play with Doughboy, and they immediately cracked his head off and left him in a puddle of water, where he promptly melted. I made a few more little Doughpeople, but they all died brutal deaths, so I eventually gave up.

[why-i-love-comics]

Punisher #2 - "The Negotiation" (2023)

written by David Pepose art by Dave Wachter & Dan Brown

[messinwitheddie]

Wanted to introduce some JTHM ocs, specifically Noise, a Doughboy oc I adopted from @psycho-doughart I modified his design slightly (mostly added cracks on his body and the musical note symbol. Took me forever to get his story plotted out on paper.

Noise is the tiniest Doughboy but he is the loudest. Originally he was just a novelty salt shaker, made of porcelain. He is chipped in several places and no longer full of salt. He's filled with baby teeth, shiny pebbles and a Canadian dime, so when he moves he rattles.

Noise is a "fragment of a figment", slowly brought into animation with residual moose wall grime when Nny first broke into old man Juan's Casarez's trailer. He scribbled on the novelty Doughboy salt shaker with a sharpie marker out of spite. It took weeks for Juan to notice; he's not an observant man.

(Who is Juan Casarez and why is Nny stalking him/ breaking into his home will be explained later. Sorry, shift is starting soon.)

Unlike PSD and Mr. Eff, Noise is really not concerned with his fate or the fate of his target, which ends up Mr. Casarez. If he is collected, so be it. Until then, he's trying to wrap his skull around this whole concept of being conscious. Noise is curious and mischievous. He just wants to be heard.

He quickly realizes the more he's heard, the "realer" and more independent he becomes.

And he will amplify as many noises as possible as loudly as it takes until he is heard. Eventually, he can amplify thoughts too. The negative, intrusive ones are the loudest.

Luckily for him, Juan not only has a deep fear of loud noises, especially loud, sudden noises like crashes, thunder, screams, explosions, ect but Juan is also prone to overstimulation meltdowns and continuously plagued with dread and anxiety.

Just amplifying ordinary background noises causes Juan torment, which breathes more and more life/ consciousness into Noise.

Thank you for the adopt!

[mzjosef]

doughboy

[brody75]

Boyz n the Hood (1991)

[djevilninja]

I’m a fool, I’m a trip, I’m a Blood, I’m a Crip, I'mma slide, I'mma dip, I'mma take you on a trip Where the girls wanna strip if you stick to the script; Act up if you think I’m on some Hollywood shit.

Ice Cube feat OMG, Doughboy, WC & Young Maylay - Y'all Know How I Am

[is-that-a-bird]

Going through my pictures and most of them are of my muse.

His name is Doughboy

He is the most pathetic cat I have ever met

The cat cafe thought he was elderly turns out he was only 2 years old

He doesn’t know how to pounce. He just gets low to the ground and then stands up and speed walks to his toy

When he touches his toy he gets scared and runs away

In some ways he’s really smart. He knows when I’m high and vulnerable and steals my food out of my hand knowing I’ll be too busy laughing to stop him

He once attempted to steal a whole rotisserie chicken from me while high and almost got away with it

I taught him how to high five and now every time my ex has something he wants he will just start slapping him

He is gay and homophobic and will glare at gay people showing affection

He is a sweet little cherub who brings joy to everyone who has met him

[treasuregamble]

the Pillsbury Doughboy part 2: doughin' it

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

[neonkewpie]

And done!

[ralphrahsaan]

A rare moment with wonderful company at the spot

[rockyp77mk3]

"US Army Infantry Soldier in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive", 1918 by Samuel McIntire.

[why-i-love-comics]

Punisher #2 - "The Negotiation" (2023)

written by David Pepose art by Dave Wachter & Dan Brown