#first person pov drawing

[crizbn]

It's always such a bother when you're trying to cross the border and sleepwalk right into the next PMD.

(Octransfur Part 15 - Perspective, a commission for RainTheWolfie. Finally awake and back on track~)

Click here to check out the timelapse~

[isbergillustration]

Entity grown in a jar discovers the eternal pain of growing out your hair from a buzzcut. Suffers. Develop telepathy that does severe psychic damage as result.

[arkarti]

Honestly the Willry art is amazing. Even though I don’t ship them you created something beautiful out of that nasty situation so bravo to you!

Do you think you’d ever do a reader/Steve image like that? Even cute stuff like holding hands, coffee date, etc? I would be over the moon 🩷🌙

thank you! nah very valid if you don't like the ship - but glad u like the art^^ you mean like first person POV or like generic human shape and steve? I dunno yet tbh 🤔

[spacer-case]

i hauv a problem

cant stop thinking about him. my marco phoenix sir get out of my head

[tennessoui]

new wip wednesday

i wanted to get the first chapter of this done as an early bday present to me because ive been talking about this fic for foreverrrrr but its not gonna happen because im bad at measuring time and effort 😮‍💨 but look! hunger games au fic!

Anakin pushes his face into his neck, letting his lips press against his pulse for a moment. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, recognition and warning rolled into one tone. 

But Anakin wouldn’t be who he is if he allowed the man in his arms to so easily twist away. He wouldn’t even be here now, pressed up against him with the scent of saltwater and lilacs and leather filling his nose, if he let one warning word distract him from his goal.

So instead he pushes further, wraps his hands around Obi-Wan’s hips and takes the skin beneath his lips between his teeth. The soft fabric of their pants brush together, so loud in the stillness of the kitchen that it’s deafening—that it’s almost loud enough to drown out the catch in Obi-Wan’s breathing.

But Anakin has trained himself over the past five years to listen for all the small ways that Obi-Wan Kenobi capitulates, so he hears his sigh, feels the slump of his shoulders against his own as his head sways forward and then back.

Anakin takes his time worrying a bitemark into his neck, just at the edge of his beard. On the holos that will film Obi-Wan’s face today, it’ll look like a shadow. 

But Anakin will know. Obi-Wan will know. 

“Anakin,” his lover murmurs, and Anakin’s hand moves from his waist up to stroke down his arm, corded with tense muscle. Fisherman’s muscle. Victor’s muscle too.

Not today, he means. It’s obvious in every line of his body. It’s obvious in the fact that he left the bed so early in the morning when neither of them must work. It’s obvious in the distance in his eyes, the frown across his lips.

Today is not a day where Obi-Wan will accept pleasure from anyone’s lips or hands, undeserving as he feels to be on the receiving end of such a kindness.

Anakin’s left hand falls to cover Obi-Wan’s, tangling their fingers together. His are rougher than Obi-Wan’s, working man’s hands now that he is twenty-one and a man of the sea like most are on Stewjon. The rough drag of his calluses over the hairy knuckles of Obi-Wan’s hand makes Anakin swallow a smile. Victors of the Hunger Games are forbidden from working laborious jobs. They’re meant to languish away in their Coruscanti-funded manors, with idle minds and idle hands, picking at paints or design stencils or any number of different government approved hobbies

Obi-Wan Kenobi is not made to be idle. He has no patience for painting or sewing, for cooking or jewelry design. Luckily for him, Stewjon is the fourth planet from Coruscant, on the edge of the inner rim, and it’s rather small, rather ordinary. In the colder months, during the few months of the star year where the galaxy is not forced to care about the Hunger Games and its Victors, he can slip away to the ocean. Fish and sail like he was born to do, Stewjoni through and through.

But Anakin is out on those choppy seas year-round now that he’s four years finished with his compulsory education. His hands are rougher than Obi-Wan’s and they always will be.

Anakin likes it. Likes the way Obi-Wan’s softness contrasts against his own rougher places. Likes that he can sneak away from Obi-Wan’s manor in the blue of the pre-dawn light, first to the sea and then to the market, and Obi-Wan will be there when he gets back. Likes that when he leaves, his lover is curled up asleep in their bed. And when he returns with the fattest fish from his haul, Anakin can cook it for him too. 

He likes that he is the only thing Obi-Wan needs. He provides. He cooks for him. He feeds him. He touches him with his rough hands, to dirty him and then to clean him up. Everything that Obi-Wan needs, Anakin is the person to give it to him.

He supposes he has Coruscant to thank for that.

He’s not stupid enough to say that—ever, but especially today. Especially on the day of the Reaping. 

[what-about-yogurt-night]

doodle dumppp😎😎

The first one is an oc drawing (Silvin(left)’s being yelled at by his dad(right)😔💀) but then I remembered I hadn't drawn any of the Smiling Friends in my sketchbook yet so I dropped those bad boys in there😎😎 also I realized it'd been a while since I'd drawn Welcome Home fanart so I did a crossover doodle lol😂

Transcript (plus some random commentary cause the urge to babble was too strong) under the cut so you don't have to squint as hard as Pim to read any of my handwriting lol:

Image 1: Silvin’s shirt says "NYAH!" and has a lil cat + a fish on it :3 also Sil's dad is a king btw hence the crown + fancy jewelry lol

Image 2: (it's just Allan lol) (he's sideways cause that's how he is in the sketchbook I didn't have room to make him stand upright) (rip anyone under the coffee he's spilling everywhere)

Image 3: the booklet Pim's looking at (bottom right doodle) says "menu" and the writing next to him says "can't see"

Image 4: Wally says "Can you help put my friend's head back on?" and Charlie tells Pim "Bro I think he killed that guy" also in case it's hard to tell Wally is holding Barnaby's disembodied head

[towerofluin]

SBI Whumptober Day 9: Burn Wound & Day 12: Hiding an Injury

this was a very quick piece buuuuut its inspired by a conversation anarchy-and-piglins had a couple months ago (I think) about how techno would have been hurt in the blast at the red festival too, and how he didnt really have any allies at the time so he would have had to deal with it himself

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 2

cws: royal whump, winged whumpee, manipulation, threats of punishment, whumpee is super conditioned, female whumper, male whumpee, lmk if i missed any!

masterlist

I knocked on Her Majesty’s door and entered as soon as I heard “Come in,” careful not to let any of her food get out of place while I held the tray in one hand. Most of it wasn’t difficult, just the grapes—I’d only ever had problems with the grapes, because they were the only food item in Her Majesty’s breakfast that would roll around with any movement. Luckily, everything stayed in place as the tray passed from hand to hand as I closed the door softly behind me.

“You’re late.”

Fuck. Was I late? I hadn’t noticed, but the edges of my memory were fuzzy this morning, it was early, I-

I hadn’t bowed. That was something I was supposed to do every time I was in the presence of Her Majesty. I really was performing horribly this morning. I could fix this. I could fix this. I knew how to fix things like this. “My apologies, Your Majesty,” I told her, dropping to my knees and leaning forward. My wings were sore, but the sooner I perfected my behavior the sooner they would rest, so I pushed them forward and out until I could freeze in the picturesque bow that Her Majesty liked me to be in.

“Don’t mumble to me.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” I repeated, enunciating this time. She was right; it was disrespectful not to speak as clearly as possible to her. “I was awoken earlier than I’m used to, but I shouldn’t have taken so long to get here. It won’t happen again.”

“Christ, Onyx, now you’re trying to pin the blame of your incompetence on waking up early? That’s a pathetic excuse, and besides, you’re my servant. You’re supposed to be able to do the things I need you to. Do I need to remind you of that?”

I would not shake. I would not shake, it made me look pathetic and it would make her breakfast move around on the tray. She hated when it did that, and I didn’t think I could stand her being mad at me for another thing right now, no matter how deserved.

“I have places to be,” she told me as she pulled the tray of food out of my hands, and I released the breath I’d been holding. “Do not think that you’re off the hook for this morning, but I don’t have time for this right now. We'll revisit this tonight. Understand?”

I nodded, standing back up. Maybe if I did everything else right today I could get back in her good graces. I’d still have to be punished for being late, of course—that was deserved and I needed it to become better—but I still did hate it when Her Majesty was angry with me.

At least I managed to keep my mouth shut and keep myself from digging myself into deeper holes throughout the rest of the morning. My only job right now was to dress Her Majesty in the red dress that was currently laid on the bed. I breathed shallowly as I laced up the back, trying to keep my stomach from rumbling simply from the smell of her toast as she ate it. She didn’t usually finish the toast, and her scraps were mine as long as no one else walked in, but not if I couldn’t just be good for the rest of the morning.

“I have an important meeting today,” Her Majesty told me as I clasped her necklace from behind her. “You are not to interrupt under any circumstances, unless I call you. My career depends on this. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She sighed again, turning around to face me. “You’re much more trouble than you’re worth, you know. You’re lucky I take care of you like this, especially on days like today where you barely have to do anything. Just your regular cleaning and cooking.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I am lucky, I am very grateful, thank you.”

The ghost of a smile played out across her lips. “Good. You should be. Now start cleaning my room, and don’t leave my bed sheets all wrinkly like last time." She swept out of the room, and I was left alone again.

She’d left half of a piece of toast on the breakfast tray, along with almost all of her grapes. Our strawberry jam was running out, but the sugary-sweet taste alone made me practically melt into the floor while I ate the toast.

Her Majesty the queen was fully within her rights to eat every scrap of her breakfast, or to not finish it but not give the scraps to me. That would be fine of her, and I would still be grateful for everything she did for me. I understood that my place as a servant was permanently below her.

God, though. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for a steady supply of the strawberry jam.

taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts (lmk if you'd like to be added/removed)

[yellowhollyhock]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

The day started out ordinary enough.

I'd been out, just needed to get away, y'know? Not a big deal. I ran into a bit of trouble with some Foot idiots, nothing I couldn't handle. They were picking on this baby turtle. Really bad night for them to make that choice, I was already in a bad mood.

Master Splinter's hard to talk into pets; he's got a soft heart for strays, but he's also got a strong sense of duty, and he thinks taking in an animal we aren't equipped to care for is irresponsible. I can see where he's coming from, but it's not like I can show up at the animal shelter and make sure she gets settled. I hate to just drop her off. I figured if he saw the little princess he might change his mind.

The thing is, we didn't even end up talking about the baby turtle, except Mikey wants to know what I'm gonna name her. Master Splinter's on my case about going out alone again. Technically I was supposed to knock that off, leave a note or something. But I'm sixteen. That's too old to have to tell somebody every time I'm coming or leaving.

If you ask me, how worried everyone got is just a sign of how bored they are all cooped up in the sewers. Especially Leo. He sure gets on my nerves sometimes. He's so smug. Not all of us can pass the time meditating, y'know? The guy really needs a hobby. He's old enough he ought to be thinking for himself, not just parroting everything Master Splinter says. Don't get me wrong, Master Splinter's a real good guy. I'm just tired of Leo trying to be his mini me. I definitely don't need him echoing every word of the lecture I'm getting; once is enough, thanks.

Mikey kinda understands, I think. He causes his chaos at home, I cause mine on the surface. Sometimes I think I could get along with him okay if he'd stop singing the Spongebob theme song and making the whole place smell like his cooking experiments. Or if he actually stood up to Leo and Splinter once in a while. He's got so much skill, he could do a lot of good! But he gets spooked so easily, I can't take him anywhere. So he cowers in the sewers and hogs the TV.

Oh, yeah, Donnie's there, too--barely. He's got this project that's been taking up all his time--something about the empty space between atoms. He never explains the whole thing because, if you can get him to look up and talk to you in the first place, he talks himself in circles and goes right back to his screen. It's kind of starting to get on my nerves. But he gets like this sometimes. Sooner or later he'll either finish or it'll blow up and he'll have to take a break till we can replace the parts. It can be hard not to feel like he doesn't care, either about what's going on in the city, or even right behind him.

Anyway, I guess Master Splinter was worried about me being out in the weather. Mikey says there's supposed to be a big storm tonight. It was kinda rainy, but not that bad.

Maybe I'll name the turtle Kingyo, or Ponyo. Her spots kinda remind me of a goldfish, plus finding her on such a rainy night.

Or maybe Toto; I like how that one sounds.

[acidic-vagabond]

so professor laytons appeared in 2 dreams so far and in the second one WHICH I STILL REMEMBER P WELL we shared a hug n its still so vivid in my minds eye i had to draw it

ps drawing hugs from a first person pov is hell i Do Not Recommend It

[silusvesuius]

n*loth is literally a demon i mean iHold on YAAASSSSS!

i mean it 😒😒😒

[crizbn]

"Where are--? Oh, you're over there? How'd--"

…

"Huh. That's a new one…"

(A first-person TF commission from a while back for Sgtpieman. We finally put my own take on an idea that's been bouncing around for a while~)

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[sysig]

Everything falls into place so nicely when they’re together (Patreon)

[autistic-gay-men-kissing]

little sketch I did bc a Discord friend mentioned I should do this. So I did 😭

@adevilyoudo tagging you because you might be interested

[cheesecake-bich]

guys im kinda cooking something up

I'm giving Meridian have sigma rizz bro is going to be so alpha skibidi

perhaps even a madlad, as the kiddos call them

or something i don't fucking know. I'm just making this loser even more of a lunatic

perhaps even whacky, bonkers one would say.