#how to draw eileen

[saildraws]

thought somebody here might like my bloodborne doodles

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

HAPPY (belated) 22k TO 30k EILEEN <333

in honour here she is young and angry and slightly feral

drew her with hearing aids as she has hearing aids in her introduction in s11 and she also doesn't have a great relationship with her mentor so i'm taking the liberty of assuming lilian is hearing and makes eileen use hearing aids to communicate rather than using her preference of asl !!

[quibbs126]

More sketches from the past two days

So first I just wanted to draw Flora in that outfit she has during the credits of Curious Village, because personally I really like it, and I feel like it makes her look more similar to Luke and Layton’s type of clothing. Not sure if I would have preferred this outfit over the one we got, because I still like that one, but still

Next, I just wanted to draw something funny with Descole. I know DS games should be too modern for this world, but I swear I’ve seen some art where Luke has a DS, and I just think it would be funny if the one thing from modern times this series has is just. The DS. So yeah. For context, the game Descole is supposed to be playing is Pokémon Ranger: Guardian Signs. In it there’s a character called Leanne, who’s an archaeologist studying the ancient history of Oblivia, but also she’s married to Oblivia’s Area Ranger Rand, and has a daughter named Nema, and they all live happily. I feel like Descole would end up drawing parallels to his own family and get kind of jealous he can’t live that happy life Leanne is

Next, I was looking for some poses to draw in my photos, and I came across the one with three people, and initially I was going to draw it with Des and his old crew, but then I thought the pose would also work with the prequel trio, and I thought maybe I should do that instead. But I still wanted to draw the Des trio, so I just ended up making two different versions, as you can see here. I feel like Luke ended up looking a bit weird here

Oh yeah, and for context as to who the kid in the middle of the Des trio is, that would be Kyle Azan, or as he’s originally known at this time, Gabriel Redwood, who I’m just gonna say was Desmond’s apprentice back in the day, similar to how Luke is to Layton. Gabriel, Desmond and Eileen (along with Raymond) would go around the world in an earlier version of the Bostonius searching for ancient ruins and artifacts, having plenty of adventures along the way. Also for reference, I’m saying that Gabriel is around 12 years younger than Desmond, but they first met when Gabriel was about 9, so it was a pretty sizable age gap

Anyways, so after that I had some free space, so I decided “you know what? I complained about the villains not getting new outfits in the Layton cafe art, why not just try and do it myself?” And so I decided to start with Clive. I based this outfit off of a combination of his normal outfit and Luke’s alternate outfit. Also I lost the hat because from what I can gather, the hat was just part of his “Future Luke” persona, considering once we see him as Clive, he’s no longer wearing the hat, so I ditched it so that he’d stand on his own instead of just being Luke’s counterpart

But yeah

[littlebluejaydraws]

Friends :) I think i prefer the line art for these ones haha Colour version is [here]

ID: Two digital line art drawings of Cas and Eileen respectively. They are both signing. Cas has his right hand raised in front of his face with thumb, index, and middle finger extended. He is moving his hand to the side and curling his fingers into a loose fist, with the thumb still extended. Eileen has both hands held in front of her chest in loose fists with thumbs extended. She is moving her hands down and back up. End ID.

[buckleydiazmp4]

come on eileen!! (cas bought her the sunglasses 😎)

[amidalashandmaidens]

Gah, I don't know how to introduce this so: when drawing Jolyne I try to subtly (who am I fooling) incorporate both sides of her family into her looks. Discussion below:

So obviously, because I have the benefit of retro designing Eileen, Jolyne and Eileen both possess the butterfly motif (just see the rest of my art tag for that), and green eyes (which debatably could come from either side of the family). Another detail that I added is that Jolyne has two moles below her mouth

Could say this is just to add some more distinguishing marks w/no relation to family but I decided to give her grandma

matching moles! Ta-dah!

Additionally, when I draw Jolyne I give her Eileen's nose!

[mabaris]

was tagged by @kirkwallgremlin to make some OCs using this picrew 💜💜 i’ll tag @wardenskeeper, @minoan-ophidian, @catgirlpygmymarmoset, and @heniareth if y’all want to do it!! 😊✨

top row is Eileen Cousland and Borri Tabris, bottom row is the blorbos from my brain, Idora and Herain

(i don’t normally get very attached to my dragon age pcs but borri is the One that’s stuck in my brain with cement 💖)

[nbdraws]

will i ever be able to draw my own oc consistently (ft. my equally inconsistent friend’s oc) Thems™️

[bumpscosity]

gay people that live in my brain (picrew)

[zepskies]

Omgosh I loveeee the imagines for Sam having a crush on deans gf!!! And the part 2 SO ANGSTY. And you write dean and readers interactions so well! (Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna do this) But I'm so curious to know how the conversation went between Dean and the reader after finding out! I just need to know how dean talks about the situation with them!! Anyway HAVE A GREAT DAY 🩷🩷

Hello my lovely anon!

I'm so glad you enjoyed those angsty little imagines. 😂 For those who don't know, they're referring to these:

You are Dean's one exception. (In which Sam is in love with Dean's girlfriend - and how Dean reacts.)

Sam crosses the line. (The sequel: Sam finally sees his chance with you after he's hit by a witch's spell.)

I tried to imply what followed between the reader and Dean after this section:

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest.

Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat.

But since you asked so nicely, this is my headcanon for that conversation between the reader and Dean (after Sam is knocked out by Rowena lol):

Of course, you would demand to know why Dean didn't tell you earlier.

Your heart and mind are a maelstrom of emotions: shock, not wanting to believe it's true, anger and hurt at both of these men for lying to you for so long about what's been going on.

Because a lie of omission is still a damn lie.

Dean is quiet at first, and you're forced to read into his silence. You peer at him closer, grabbing his wrist.

"Dean...did you really think it would change anything?" you ask incredulously.

His brows furrow. "No."

But you don't quite believe him.

"I just...didn't want you to have to deal with this shit, that's all," he eventually admits.

Your eyes narrow as you stare up at his face. You're trying to discern the truth.

"Is that really why?" you ask.

"Yeah, okay?" His voice is gruff and frustrated.

You move in closer, gripping the open edges of his plaid shirt. He knows what you're demanding in your gentle silence.

Don't lie to me.

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, a tender gesture that softens him. Your thumb brushes across his lower lip.

"Good," you reply. "Because if I have to remind you that I am entirely, undeniably, irrevocably in love with you, then I might just have to punish you."

A slow smirk spreads across your man's face.

"Oh yeah?" he says. His hands find your hips, drawing you closer. You're satisfied by the hint of doubt washing away from his demeanor. From his tight shoulders loosening.

"Just outta curiosity, what might that entail?" Dean asks.

Your lips curve. "Oh, you'll find out, after we fix your brother... Dean, I'll need to talk to him."

Dean's burgeoning good humor fades, but you take his face in both your hands and make sure he meets your gaze. You are firm in your convictions, and he sees that.

He nods in acceptance, before he dips down to press his lips to yours. It's gentle at first, but all too soon becomes claiming, born of hidden frustration and passion.

When he parts from you, it's slow, reluctant. His fingers draw a strand of hair behind your ear.

In his eyes, you see the true depths of him. Something not many people get to see.

It's there that you always know that you're loved.

I hope that satisfied you, my dear! 😘 I miiiiight do a more official 3rd part to this imagine-verse where Sam gets his happy ending (with Eileen).

Dean Winchester Imagines

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[elexaria]

it was hard for simon to grieve when johnny died. price turned an eye when they got back to base and the first thing simon did was go and lay in johnny’s cot, curled up into a ball. they were close, they were best friends.

he feels a pang of guilt at johnny’s funeral, the sound of bagpipes overwhelming his already heightened senses. one of the mactavish sisters stops in her tracks and makes her way over to simon, who’s stood smoking by the floral donations. “i’m sorry for yer loss, ghost.” she whispers out to him, teary eyed and sniffly. he blinks down at her, albeit slightly confused. “pretty sure i’m the one supposed to be sayin’ that to you.” he replies with a dry writ, clearing his throat as he nods down at her. she lets out a quiet laugh, albeit a saddened one. it’s a brief interaction on an unfortunate occasion, but it lets simon come to realise something— johnny loved him.

simon’s not one for wakes, but he’s not one to pass up a good buffet. yet, for some reason, he finds himself awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, his weary eyes watching everyone converse. johnny’s mom, eileen, makes her way over to simon— and it’s crazy how much johnny looked like his mam, same smile, same deep blue eyes that simon became rather fond of.

“my john even got his beard from me,” eileen jokes, laughing her head off as she rubs her peach fuzz. it makes simon’s lips twitch, a chuckle rumbling in his throat. the chuckles dissipate, when ms mactavish reaches out to stroke simon’s cheek. simon riley’s not one for showing his face, but he wanted to do this for him. at first, simon has to fight against every muscle that wants to recoil out of her touch, to scuttle away further into the corner he finds himself stood in. but instead, his nostrils flare as he peers down at the little scottish lady that’s affectionately rubbing his cheek, and it’s almost as if johnny’s still there. “he loved ye, simon. i wish we could’ae met ye when our john was still around.”

simon can’t bear to watch as johnny’s room is packed up, he feels sick to the stomach. it makes everything worse, seeing him being physically scrubbed from base, from the only resemblance of a home simon’s ever had. laswell leaves a small box outside of his quarters, giving him a curt nod as she lets him pick it up and bring it into his room. it brings a smile to his face, just for a moment, as he cradles the cardboard box in his arms— a threadbare scottish flag johnny had pinned up on his wall, some of his old action figures he had kept from childhood, a few sketchbooks. and a note.

his stomach knots up at the sight of the letter, shakily placing it besides him as he flips through the sketchbooks first, the pads of his calloused fingers stroking fondly over every graphite smudge and ink blot on the pages. finding himself laughing hysterically over johnny’s drawing of price’s dick tickler moustache, and he nods in agreement that it should, indeed, be neutralized. the little scribbles of football scores, shitty and dirty limericks and even coffee cup rings on the pages just… it makes simon feel like he’s inside johnny’s mind, and it feels homely.

simon’s heart aches when he comes across the sketches of himself in johnny’s sketchbook, eyes welling up as he fights back the onslaught of tears that threaten to patter down onto the precious pages below. they were so beautiful. they made ghost, a husk of a man, look… alive. and he begins to breathe heavier, seeing small love hearts and silly cartoon drawings of johnny and simon doing stupid shit— like the time johnny and simon came up with a wager that if neither of them settled down come their mid-30s, they’d move to the countryside and get a dog or two.

why the fuck did you have to go and die for, johnny?

the sketchbook tour comes to its conclusion, the final sketchbook only half way through before, well, the artist passed. and so, the letter sits, almost as if there’s a spotlight casting down on it — screaming out to be read. it really gets on simon’s nerves how his hands will not stop shaking, but he pulls through and begins to open up the envelope that reads ‘for ghosty and ghosty only’, the underside of the envelope reading ‘i mean it!!’ with an angry face. it makes simon’s stoic expression crack into a grin, rolling his eyes as he continues to open it up.

the letter reads:

“well pal, if you’re reading this, it means i’m dead as fuuuck. oh well, it’s something we have to accept in our line of work, innit?

maybe i’ll get really lucky, you won’t have to read this letter and we can just laugh about it when we’re retired, living our best lives in the countryside with our wee dugs. cos you know you’ll never settle down, monsi, i’m the only bastard out there who can handle you!!!

but … on the odd chance i’m wrong (which is rarely the case cos i’m handsome and smart), it was great knowing you. you’re the bestest friend a mug like me could ask for, and i’m glad we found each other. gay, i know. whatever. i fucking love ya, pal. always and forever. dickface!!!

in another lifetime, maybe we can find each other again. although, don’t know if i can handle you being a brit again in this alternate universe haha. i don’t love you that much!!!

all my love,

yer johnny xx”

an emotional chuckle escapes from simon’s lips, tear stained cheeks flushing a light crimson colour as he sharply inhales, eyes shutting tightly as he holds the note to his chest. and for the first time, in a very long time, simon allows himself to cry. heaving his chest, snotty nosed as he really sobs it all out.

his entire life, he’s been beaten down, abused, witnessed family (both blood and found) being killed. but losing his best friend no, his soulmate, is the very thing that breaks his heart the most.

maybe, in another universe, johnny missed that bullet. and right now, in that universe, johnny and simon allow themselves a moment to breathe, comfortable in each other’s presence.

in another universe.

[hawkland]

Art Masterpost: Let Hands Do What Lips Do Story by: entropic_saudade (@entropic-saudade) Art by: sidewinder (@hawkland) I've been so excited about this sharing one, and the day is finally here!!! I first watched "The Shape of Water" last summer on a flight home from Italy. The entire time I was thinking to myself, "This is a Dean/Cas story. This is so very much a Dean/Cas story." So when the @cdrcrossoverbang came along, I knew immediately what one of my entries would have to be.

The above was the piece I put in for claims. It's directly based off one of the most popular stills from the film, and I thought would be a perfect chance to show Dean & Cas in this universe. I think it's my first time doing a complete "creature!Cas" as well, so I spent quite a while figuring out & sketching how I wanted to combine the creature from the movie with Cas's most recognizable features. (I also wanted to play up/enhance the green/blue of the original image as it's so iconic for Dean & Cas, and then later to carry through elements of those colors in the additional art I created.)

The banner/title art is also very closely based off one of TSOW's movie posters, though I wanted to give Cas some wing-like fins ("angel fish" vibes, anyone? Heh heh.) This was not an easy piece to do, but in the end I got it pretty close to how I'd envisioned it. Have a close up!

When I started talking to @entropic-saudade about their ideas and reading story notes I got even more hyped up. I knew I wanted to do some art of the other characters featured in the fic, especially some I haven't had the chance to draw or paint before. I really enjoyed Eileen's relationship with Dean in the story, where she parallels Zelda's role in the movie, so again I wanted to closely recreate one of the stills from the movie for Eileen's entrance scene:

And having a chance to finally do art featuring Rufus was something I couldn't resist! This one wasn't so much a direct movie scene recreation, although I tried to combine elements of Giles' apartment with what you might find in Bobby's house in SPN.

I hope you all go run and read the story now! >> Read "Let Hands Do What Lips Do" at AO3 <<

[helscrbbls]

I always had a fascination with Eileen, her resilience, determination. I lost count how many times I said “A hoonter must hoont” when I had to push through something I didn’t want to do.

Also this is my mum’s birthday gift bc she said I could draw her anything sooo… happy birthday mama

[hannahssimblr]

In the hallway after school on Tuesday, as I head to my locker to retrieve my gear bag, I spot Miss O’Reilly. She is locking up the art room, and gives me a big smile as I approach her. She’s always doing that, smiling at me, I mean, and it throws me off. It's usually not the expression teachers have when they see me coming.

I smile awkwardly in return and she turns her body towards me, takes a step, prompting me to halt beside her instead of barrelling past her like I would have, not enthused about facing the wrath of Doherty if I hit the rugby pitch even one minute late. 

“Jude! I've been meaning to congratulate you.”

“Um, for what?”

She laughs as though I’m being dense deliberately, “I spoke to Eileen, the guidance counsellor last Friday and she told me about your offers.”

“Oh, for college.”

“Yes! How wonderful. I’m just so pleased for you that everything worked out the way that you hoped it would, after all of the hard work you put in this last year it’s just fantastic to hear it. And tell me, did you get accepted to every college you applied for?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow,” she takes a big pause, taking it in, “wow. You must be delighted. How does it feel?”

“I dunno, miss.”

“Hard to get your head around, I’m sure. Your parents must be proud too.”

“Mm.”

She’s determined to ignore our mismatched attitudes towards this news, taking a big, jubilant breath before launching into more affirmations, “well, what a confirmation of your talent and skill. I had a really good feeling about your work when you came to my class last year, and I’m just so pleased that you got the results you wanted. Have you decided which college to choose yet?”

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, “yeah I’m choosing NCAD.”

“Oh!” I can tell she’s trying to maintain her upbeat attitude, but eyebrows slowly draw together in confusion, “I hadn’t realised you changed your plan. When we last spoke about it in March you told me you were looking forward to attending universities abroad.”

I shrug, “Yeah, I, um, I changed my mind in the end. I’m going to stay in Dublin.”

“Hm, okay, I just… Jude, do you mind if I ask you why?”

“Yeah, you can ask,” I say, and am instantly horrified by the tremor in my voice. I fight it back with a hard swallow, “It’s just, like… um,” Oh God. What is happening to me? I’m conscious of the crowds of students milling through the hallway right behind me, and of the fact that I categorically cannot do this here. “Sorry…”

“Oh, come in,” she says in a low voice, jangling the keys in the art room door with an urgency that feels entirely necessary, and when she lets me into the room ahead of her I stand dumbly in the middle of it as she fumbles with the blind over the glass doors, tingling jolts of anxiety running down my arms and through the tips of my fingers. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” She says, and simply that, the word she uses and the way she uses it makes me want to crumple onto the linoleum floor in front of her. 

“You’re alright, you’re just…” she purses her lips, searching for the word, “overwhelmed, I’d say. College and all of that kind of thing, it can get on top of you at this time of year. I know it’s a lot to think about.”

I manage a grunt of vague agreement. 

Miss O’Reilly drags a folding chair from the side of the room, “C’mere, sit down there and we’ll have a quick chat about it.”

“Um, Mr. Doherty…” I say, and she understands, “Don’t mind him. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

She settles into a seat across from me, and gives me an encouraging smile. As I search for the words I want to say I’m cognizant of how comforting this woman is, how unfazed she is by me and whatever it is that is happening to me in this room. She has a daughter, I know that, a daughter who goes to our school and for a moment I’m jealous of her, that fourteen year old girl who gets to have a mother like this one, that is soft and comforting in all the places where mine is sharp and disinterested in me and every feeling I have ever experienced. 

I’m not convinced that I even know how to talk about things like this, afraid that I will try to and come across like the weirdest, most unhinged person on the planet. My thoughts and feelings will be so nonsensical that they will make everyone around me cringe with discomfort. “I’m trying to do the right things,” I attempt, “but somehow the right things feel very wrong to me.”

“When you say ‘the right things’, Jude, do you mean you want to choose the right college?”

I nod. 

“And why does NCAD seem like the right choice?”

“Because of my girlfriend.”

“Michelle?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you knew that to be honest.” I never thought that teachers noticed or cared about things that weren’t arbitrary uniform rules and homework assignments, but evidently I was wrong.

She smiles kindly, “So Michelle is going to NCAD?”

“Yeah if she gets the points in her leaving. She applied for all the same colleges as me but got none and now I feel sort of... like I have to stay for her.”

“Is that the right decision for you?”

“I dunno, miss.”

She hums contemplatively, “I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this kind of thing, but it’s not always the best choice to base big life choices on your girlfriend when you’re only eighteen years old. Especially one as important as your university.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s never an easy choice to make. I really empathise with you here, because when you’re in love with a person, you-”

“I don’t even know if I love her.”

There’s a pause, she looks surprised, and so am I. I'm stunned that I told her that, this thought that I've never dared to utter before.

And then everything comes spilling out of me. “Look, it’s just that I feel very trapped,” I say, “Sometimes I think there’s something abnormal about my brain, because I make decisions that even I don’t understand, like with Michelle... when I think about us being together and our relationship I can hardly remember anything good that’s happened between us for a long time, the last fun thing we did or the last time I felt happy. I can’t even remember what I was thinking when we got together. I feel like I’m on autopilot, or like things are just happening to me without me having a hand in it.

“Somehow I’ve just, like, ended up here and I’m making plans with her and promising her things that I haven’t even decided if I want yet. I thought that I wanted to move away, but maybe I don’t anymore. Maybe it’s wrong of me to do that, because what if I go away and then I realise that what I actually wanted was to be with Michelle?” 

I breathe in, knowing that I have probably been talking too much, but now I am unwilling to stop, “My parents, they’re fighting a lot at home. Something happened a few months ago and it's just been a battlefield ever since. I know that if I go away I’ll leave my sister alone to deal with all of it. She’s only nine, and the constant tension upsets her so much, she goes into a spin about it and starts fantasising about all of these awful scenarios, and see, my parents don’t know how to deal with her, they don’t really like it when kids act like kids. Or at least they’re not that interested in them– in her. I keep imagining this future where I’m gone, I’ve left home and I’m hundreds of miles away and she’s all on her own with them, and there’s nobody to really look after her because I can’t get home so easily, and when I think like that, even the thought of going away, even wanting it a little bit makes me feel like the most selfish boy on earth…”

Miss O’Reilly produces a tissue and holds it out to me. I stare at it for several seconds before I realise she is offering it because I have started to cry. My face is somehow wet with tears. “Oh,” I say, hoarsely and take it. 

“Jude, you’re still a teenager.” She says gently, “You can’t possibly be responsible for the emotions of every other person around you. It’s too much.”

“Yeah.”

“When you’re young you have to make selfish decisions, ones meant for yourself and yourself only. Nobody else is going to make them for you. You have to really ask yourself what the right choice is for you, whether you’ll be able to be truly happy in your current circumstance where nothing may change or will you be better off on your own, doing something you love and experiencing real freedom in spite of how others may feel about it.” 

I wipe my eyes and nod, staring down at my lap, still in a state of shame and disbelief that I have allowed myself to sob like this in front of my teacher, though if she is bothered she doesn’t show it. 

“When you imagine your ideal life,” she urges, “where none of these things are a factor, not the things you promised to Michelle, not what's going on at home, what does it look like?”

“God,” I breathe, almost chuckling because the answer is so easy, “I’m gone. I’m not here. I’m just miles away and I’m making art and hanging out and doing what I like.” It sounds so simple when I say it out loud, yet for the longest time now I’ve felt like a criminal for wanting these things. 

“And where do you see yourself?”

“Berlin,” I say, surprising myself. It’s not like I’ve put real time into thinking about this, visualised myself walking those streets, in fact I don’t even know what Berlin looks like, but it feels right to say it, as though there is some cosmic reason for me to go there. Perhaps only because it’s the furthest from home. 

Miss O’Reilly nods, “NCAD is a fine college, Jude, but your talent is wasted in a place where you don’t want to be. You could do anything you want. You have incredible potential and I’d be very sad to see it wasted. Life passes you by very quickly, you know, and these kinds of opportunities don’t present themselves as often as you think. It may seem obvious, but you only have one life to live.”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t make a decision for you, but all I want you to do is really think about this. Put a good amount of thought into what you really want when you remove everyone else from the equation, then, once you know, you can decide what's worth sacrificing. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes, miss.”

“Good, then that's your homework,” She smiles and reaches to squeeze my hand, which I am embarrassed about because my skin is clammy, but just like everything else about this moment that is humiliating to me, it doesn't appear to faze her.

“Thank you,” I say, and she nods. “I hope you’re not in a hurry to get to your rugby practice.”

“No,” I sniff, and let out a thick laugh, “No miss, I think I’ll skip it today.”

“Good,” she says, “That’s a good start, see? Here you are, doing exactly as you wish.”

She smiles at me, once again, that bright, warm smile, and I give her one in return because maybe it's just me, my weird brain and the things it invents, but the feeling of hope that rises in me in that moment feels very real.

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