#like. fully rendered or more loose and painting like

[rainbow-wolf120]

Fanfic promo yay yahoo I hate writing /j

And with promo comes full rendered drawings. I really should be doing my hhomework.

"Downpour"

"Worthy"

Basic plot summary and some cool info below:

"How's a Hero" is a fic I've been working on since..... idk 6 months, maybe

It's basically my (affectionate) 'I don't care' to conforming to popular fandom headcanons and going insane

(It's a horror fic. It's quite literally a horror Rayman fic where Rayman's a stubborn bitch to everyone)

Inspired to finally finish it after that one Tumblr post I saw that I can't find anymore. I think this fandom does deserve a proper 'horror' fic

Have I ever written a scary story before? No but it's not to late to throw stuff at the wall

Enough about me. What is this fic?

The basic plot finds Rayman struggling to grasp that the Glade isn't reliant on ONLY him. He has friends that'll help him and he's not taking it so well.

It goes into psychological stuff like guilt, denial, refusal for help, those things

I'm not very good at naming the tropes actually who said I should be a writer???

Anyways, if that's not your cup of tea, that's chill. You can go read "Real and Fake" for a more lighthearted story #subtleplug

This story is definitely out of my comfort zone with heavy themes, fight scenes, and more 'mature' things. So if it sounds like I've never wrote anything like this, you're correct I apologize

Every new chapter I'll finish (hopefully) with have a drawing to go with it. At least, if I have the time and motivation uhhh

Enough of me yapping to a wall. If you can't enjoy the story, enjoy the drawings !!!

[movidita]

You were so sweet.

Constantly looking to please everyone else— specifically the older men who had shown up to your daddy’s barn just a few days ago, three in particular.

Two officers and an archer.

Putting on your sweetest smile, bringing fresh lemonade and platters of fruit out. Offering a hand wherever you could fit it.

God, how eager you were to please.

And it wasn’t like they didn’t know it. Taking full advantage of the fact they could bend you to their will and render you all flustered with just a few of their sweet words.

Your three favourite pieces of eye candy working out by the barn. Hammering pieces of wood, heavy lifting with those arms, those arms that had you weak at the knees and a shy crinkle in your forehead.

Currently preparing them lunch. Bacon sandwiches and three cold crisp beers you’d stolen from your father’s cabinet.

Making your way over to them, cowboy boots pattering against the earth. Sundress flowing in the breeze, your hair secured tightly with a pale pink bow and a basket of sandwiches on one arm whilst the other struggled to hold three bottles in one hand.

Shane’s eyes lit up when he saw you, catching the attention of the other two as he straightened up from his position, leaning on the truck.

“Heya, sunshine.”

You smiled politely at the three. “Hi, I brought lunch!”

Passing them all a beer and setting down the basket on top of the trucks hood.

Daryl grunted in thanks, the first to reach over and grab his food. However, Rick just looked down at you, a cocky smirk on his face. “Didn’t have to do all this.”

Your smile only grew, “Well, Daddy said you’d be getting hungry ‘bout now. Figured it’s the least I could do after all you’ve done for us.”

His arm made its way around your shoulders, “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“No worries.” Your small hand wrapped around his wrist that was drooped over your shoulder, “I do hope you like them, used the last of the bacon.”

“For us?” Shane replied, taking a bite out of the perfectly cut triangle.

You giggle, nervous under their gazes, “Like I said, it’s the least I could do.”

The men took in your appearance. All farmer’s daughter looking. Plump lips, glistening with whatever gloss you’d put on. Your yellow sundress that stopped just above your knees, straps loose around your chest, beads of sweat coating your cleavage under the intense heat. Cowboy boots and that dainty bow— you sure fit the part.

You stayed with them for a while. Now propped up on the hood of the truck, swinging your legs back and forth. Gawking at the men as they worked. Sipping on one of the three’s beers every so often. Silently praying the trees gave you enough cover and your father couldn’t see your antics.

The fact they were working shirtless had your arousal pooling in your panties. Squishing your thighs together as you did your best to maintain calm.

But, fuck, those arms.

Every second became increasingly harder. Sipping and sipping, trying to distract yourself from the three older men.

The sun was starting to set. A faint orange painting the farm.

You were a little more than tipsy now, giggling at yourself, head tipping forward.

Hoping down off the truck. Almost tripping over your own two feet.

“Careful there, don’t wanna land on that pretty face.” Shane smirked, helping you stay upright as you adjusted yourself.

“Been drinking our beer, sweetheart?” Rick questioned, approaching your side and smirking down at you. Fully aware you had been drinking, the entire time. The way they’d look back every few minutes, taking in your giggling form atop their truck.

You fake a frown, “Nope.”

Daryl threw the last piece of wood to the pile, “What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, huh?”

Your eyes widen, dreading the fact you’d have to sneak past him when you returned inside. “Righttt, Daddy.” Your words slurred with a dopey smirk on your face.

The men knew they couldn’t just send you back inside, giggly and stumbling. They’d be kicked out the second your father found out they had let you drink.

“Want some water?” Rick questioned, leading you away from the barn and towards the sea of tents adorning the farm land.

You hiccup, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Shane scoffed from the other side of you. “Wasn’t aware you were such a big drinker.”

“‘M not.”

He let out a laugh at that, taking in the sight of your half-hearted pulling your feet along and holding onto Rick in order to stay upright.

They led you over to Daryl’s tent as it was the farthest away from the group. Sitting you down on a log and passing over a bottle of water. It was late now, majority in bed, including your father. You figured it would be easy to get inside unnoticed.

“Drink up, girl.”

You huff, “Want to take my boots off. . .”

Daryl rolled his eyes, entering his tent and zipping it up. Clearly not in the mood to deal with a mumbling mess.

“Take ‘em off then.”

Instead of removing them yourself, you stuck your feet out in front of Rick, gesturing for him to pull them off for you. In which he did, of course. Crouching to your level and carefully slipping your feet out. Revealing the white frilly socks you had on underneath.

He set the boots down beside you.

“And the socks.” You hiccup, “Can’t walk across the field in white socks!”

He smiled at you, “Course you can’t.” Rick removed your socks, tucking them into your shoes and standing to his full height.

His hands gripped yours, pulling you up and directing you towards your house. “You gotta be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, holding onto his arm as he led you. One of his arms around your waist and the other holding your cowboy boots.

You eventually reached the porch, Shane disappearing to his tent on the way there, Rick had said something about him being able to get you there just fine and he should just head to bed. Shane grumbled but complied with the man.

Now it was just you and Rick. He practically pushed you up the stairs as you did your best to spend as much time as you could with the officer.

Stopping in the hallways to giggle at framed pictures of you and your sisters. The man couldn’t hold back his smile, despite him wanting you to shut up, he couldn’t help but enjoy seeing you so smiley and relaxed in comparison to your usual desire to be perfect.

“Come on, sweetheart, quiet down.”

The two of you finally reached your bedroom after all your stumbles and slurred words.

When Rick opened your room, he wasn’t surprised to be met with such pink. Pink, flowery bedsheets. Tulips in every corner of your room. Your vanity was adorned by many trinkets and items he had never heard of. Heart-shaped pillows, and what stuck out the most— a pile of discarded clothes on the floor by the window. A plain white dress and a pair of pink lace panties.

He gulped, averting his eyes and leading you over to the bed. Trying to push away the thoughts of you, you wearing just those panties, you without the panties. He’s a sick man, he thought. You were much younger than him, you were his host's daughter. He couldn’t do that.

Rick carefully laid you down, pulling the blanket over your body. “On your side, okay? Don’t wanna choke on your own vomit, yeah?”

You were practically asleep the second your head hit the pillow, mumbling something incoherent as you drifted off.

He smiled down at you. Staring for a few seconds, just taking in the peaceful look on your face for the first time today.

(was originally going to be rick, shane and daryl but i didn’t really know how to write for three so it ended up being rick butttt i could do some other parts with the other two if anyone would like)

part two

[butterfilledpockets]

beep beep mother fucker wake up and smell the AUs

(aka the Aus that have ben stuck in my mind for too long and now they are unleashed)

first up-

Turtles are Strange (Life is strange au)

I thought- hey, Mikey and Max both got time travel powers, what am I to do with this? And then I made this thing.

Little details about the designs:

Donnie has a tattoo of Leo's red crest marks on each of his forearms

Mikey is wearing one of Donnie's spare shirts in the art bellow

Donnie is wearing one of Leo's shirts under his jacket

Mikey's jacket is Max's OG jacket from the games

(WARNING THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ONE) If you know the game's plot YOU KNOW

(I have changed a lot from the OG game there is ZERO romance except for a brief appearance from Usagi and a small subplot) (and I've also removed some of the more triggering aspects due to personal reasons)

Long story short, Big Mama and Splinter split up, and she takes Donnie in the divorce. Afraid to loose anymore of his family, Splinter packs up and leaves Arcadia with Raph, Leo and Mikey, taking them far away to the city. This happening when they were 12-14

About two years down the line, Leo runs away to reunite with his twin in Arcadia Bay, which he does. Mikey and Raph stay behind in the city, Mikey to young to really understand what's going on, and Raph insistent on staying with pops.

Years later, Mikey decides he wants to go to Blackwell Academy in his old hometown, as he wants to see his family and study photography/painting. Mikey discovers he has time powers during a fight in the bathroom where he saves the life of one of the people.

This turns out to be Donnie, who has grown rougher and bitter, as he feels he was left behind by his family.

And now, Leo is missing.

(I have the ENTIRE plot of this AU written, and if you guys wanna hear more PLEASE SAY SO)

originally this was gonna be a full multi choice comic, but I couldn't settle on an art style I liked that was quick and easy to draw, and I am not paid enough/lh to draw a fully rendered comic like that.

here is the other AU

[magic-is-something-we-create]

My commissions are open!

- With some new options, no less! -

Examples of each kind can be found below the cut, along with a link to my Ko-Fi for ease of ordering! I have 8 slots available as of posting; check my pinned post or Ko-Fi for more up-to-date info on openings.

Note that prices are in USD, and only negotiable if your request falls outside of listed categories.

- STYLE OPTIONS -

Loose line style:

- A looser, thicker, pencil-lined style that's finished quicker, and more seamlessly blends with painted backgrounds and lots of texture.

- Cheaper; usually done in 1-3 days.

Sharp line style:

- Your typical pen-like line style that takes longer to finish, but allows for more intricate details, refined end results, and higher-res pieces that lend themselves well to sharper shading and coloring book pages.

- More expensive; usually done in 4-7 days.

All illustrations have options for either style base, as well as FLAT COLORS, FULL RENDERS/SHADING, BACKGROUNDS OF VARYING COMPLEXITY, and ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS/SUBJECTS. These are considered addons and WILL affect the price and time to completion.

I'm currently offering commissions for:

- Character/Creature busts (with 1-4 characters) ($10 base for Loose; $35 for Sharp)

- Character/Creature full bodies (with 1-4 characters) ($20 base for Loose; $45 for Sharp)

- Still life illustrations (no characters or creatures, but basic background included in base price) ($30 universal base)

- Icons (headshots only; multiple characters = matching set) ($10 universal base)

- Framed card illustrations (1-2 character limit; 1 creature limit) ($120; this is a format for a fully-rendered sharp-line piece with additional costs for frame composition, hand lettering, and detailed background.)

Examples can be found behind the cut, in my #my.art tag, and on my Ko-Fi linked below!

---> My Ko-Fi. <---

If you prefer not to use Ko-Fi for your order, message me here on Tumblr or on Discord (pkfinn#2463), or email me at magicissomethingwecreate@gmail.com with design references and/or character descriptions and your preferred payment method, and I will follow up as soon as I can! Non-Ko-Fi orders are paid half upfront, and half right before sending the completed file.

I retain the right to refuse any commission for any reason, and will provide a refund if any money has been exchanged; I am not comfortable drawing sexual material, below-the-waist nudity, or vivid gore, so please seek those elsewhere. Anthro characters will need more extensive reference material as well as time, as I am out of practice, but if that's fine with you, don't let it stop you from asking for one!

- EXAMPLES -

[Left column is loose style, right is sharp. If format warps on your dash, the first one is loose style, second is sharp.]

Bust examples (direct style comparison, too):

Fullbody examples:

Still life (loose style):

Icons (sharp example is >2 years old, but still fairly accurate to the style):

Framed cards:

[phantomgrape]

OH BTW

I'm doing a DTIYS on my instagram! uhhh if you wanna participate you can submit here too!

the details are below :)

🎉 THE PRIZES 🎉

1st Place: Fully rendered fullbody with background+ Colored doodle Page

2nd Place: Fully rendered fullbody + Uncoloeed doodle page

3rd Place: Fully rendered halfbody + Two Bonus Doodles

Honorable mentions will get a simple one-color headshot

🔥 HERE ARE DA RULES 🔥

1. DEADLINE IS FEBRUARY 18TH! I might extend this if people need more time but for now this is the due date!

2. I will be pretty loose on what I consider a valid entry. As long as I can recognize that you used the two characters, you are free to do whatever you want!

3. Any form of art is valid for this (example: drawing, painting, sculpt, 3d modeling) you name it you can do it. Do not use AI or you will be boiled.

4. Be sure to tag your entry with #grapes800dtiys and also to tag me in your post! This is to guarantee that I see your post! When I see your entry it will be added to a highlight reel on my page, so you know it's been seen.

5. Be sure to follow me before you submit, this makes it easier for me to see your entry!

6. Shoot me a DM if you have any questions! I haven't done anything like this before so I'm a little bit shaky on if this all makes sense.

7. Have fun RAUGHHHHHHH 🦅🦅🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️💯💯💥💥💥💥💥

Good luck everyone!!

[harmonictechnicality]

Here's the first chapter of Passing Notes :)

[2:15pm]

Steve Harrington does not punch Eddie Munson in the nose. In fact, Steve is notorious for losing fist fights - watching countless action scenes in movies truly did not prepare him for legitimate altercations. 

Tommy Hagan does punch Eddie Munson in the nose, however. Well, he pushes him onto the linoleum floor, punches Eddie directly in the nose (like The Nose itself has personally assaulted him somehow), and then runs out the nearest fire exit. Steve is standing right there, watching it all play out at half speed. Once his brain renders back into the proper frame rate again, Steve instinctively drops to the ground to help Eddie get back up.

“Holy shit,” Steve blurts out, reaching for Eddie’s bloody nose. “Dude, lemme help… you’re like covered in blood!” Which is somehow both the truth and a hyperbole. The lower half of his face is stained with red and dripping onto his distressed gray tee. The floor tiling beneath him could now be mistaken for a kid’s finger-painting project, all red splotches mixed with Eddie’s thumb prints. Steve’s hands are aimlessly reaching to help, but the carnage he has just witnessed must’ve short-circuited his brain - leaving him just flailing towards Eddie’s face with absolutely no plan whatsoever.

“Get the hell away from me,” Eddie kicks Steve in the side and pushes himself back up against the nearest locker, red trails following behind him. Steve lets out a deep cough and grabs the side of his body where he was kicked.

What the living hell is happening? He is just trying to help and somehow ends up with a sneaker-sized pain in his guts. Organs. Whatever anatomy that’s on his lower left torso. Seriously?

“That’s enough!” Principal Coleman yells over the whole scene. Steve isn’t fully aware of how much time has passed and is definitely oblivious to the audience that has accumulated around them. But about 30 wide-eyed teenagers are staring back at them, waiting to see what will happen next.

[3:12pm]

Detention. Detention happens next. More specifically, detention for both Steve and Eddie for the next two weeks. And look, Steve could care less about how long he has detention. Going back to his Big Empty House sucks regardless, so being stuck in a Big Empty School isn’t going to suck any more than that. Except for tonight. Because tonight, he was supposed to take Nancy Wheeler on their first date. He had the whole thing planned out meticulously and now… now, he has to cancel because he did not punch Eddie Munson in the nasal cavity. Makes sense.

Even after Steve replays the whole timeline back in his head, it only kills about 12 minutes of detention. 2 hours and 48 minutes to go. Eddie walks through the door about 7 minutes into Steve’s fourth mental play-through of The Fight: starring Tommy Hagan and Eddie Musnson, featuring Steve Harrington. Steve stares up at the guy who is holding a bag of frozen vegetables to his slightly crooked nose. 

He’s changed out of his blood-soaked outfit and into an oversized gym class uniform. It kind of makes him look like an entirely different person, Steve thinks to himself. At first glance, Eddie now looks like any other student at Hawkins High. But then Steve examines the details. The loose, dark tendrils of hair that graze his shoulders. The chunky rings that skip every other finger to give each one space to claim his hand. The dark palettes of ink on his skin that are partially hidden by the uniform - only fragments of designs uncovered, insisting to be seen anyways. The details are sucking Steve out of the temporary illusion that Eddie is anything like the other students at Hawkins High.

Eddie skulks to the corner desk on the back row. He lets out an exasperated sigh that makes Steve twist his whole neck around and gawk. 

"Take me out to dinner before staring at me like that, Harrington,” Eddie sneers. 

Steve blinks. “You look like hell, man.” 

“Never been, but I’m sure I’d fit in great there.” Eddie bites back and props his legs up on the desk directly in front of him. Just then, Ms. Arnold cracks the classroom open door and peaks in. 

“I’ll be down the hall grading midterms, but I’ll be checking on you boys every so often,” she warns. “So don’t try anything stupid, please.”

“Yes m’am,” Steve replies, practically on autopilot. She smiles and leaves as quickly as she came in. Ms. Arnold is one of the most passive teachers at Hawkins, so he figures that detention will be rather low maintenance. Which is exactly what Steve needs after the kind of day he is having. 

The reason he can’t stop rewinding the details of the fight is because he is determined to find a scenario where he wouldn’t have gotten the blame for hitting Eddie. Maybe if he hadn’t reached down to help him stand up. Maybe if he had just run out the exit along with Tommy. Maybe if he had just kept walking when he noticed Tommy was instigating trouble with Eddie in the first place. But none of those things happened - no matter how many times Steve replays the chain of events, he can’t change the outcome now. Just gotta deal with the injustice and get through these next two weeks.

Okay, how much time has passed now, he wonders. Steve glances up at the clock:

[4:02pm]

He bangs his head against the desk and just leaves it there.

“Little dramatic, aren’t we?” Eddie’s voice sings in a pitch that resembles a kid taunting ‘oooo’ whenever they witness someone getting in trouble. Steve just groans in reply and says something that is incoherent, even to himself.

There’s a fairly long pause. “Sorry for kicking you… by the way.” 

This is unexpected - Eddie showing genuine remorse. The way the apology reaches Steve, adds weight to his chest, enough to drop into the soles of his shoes. It feels incorrect.

“Come on, don’t do that.” Steve lifts his head and turns his body to face Eddie. “You had just gotten your nostrils bashed in. I wasn’t exactly helping much anyways.”

Eddie’s lips tighten, moving to one side of his mouth. “Yeah, just seemed like you were flinging your arms around my face.”

“I wanted to do something.”

“Wasn’t very clear if that ‘something’ was going to be more punching or not.”

“I think the blood freaked me out.”

“The blood or the freak underneath the blood?” No trace of humor showing on Eddie’s face anymore. All of his jokes are cast aside by his honesty.

Steve hesitates for a minute too long. “I… you don’t freak me out.”

“That wasn’t very convincing, Harrington.”

“You kicking me freaked me out a little.” Nice recovery, asshole.

It earns him small laugh from Eddie. “Okay fair… well, sorry it happened.”

“Sorry I wasn’t more helpful.”

“Sorry you got detention for no reason.”

“Sorry Tommy is such a dick.”

“Sorry you’re friends with such a dick.”

“Sorry you have to wear that gym uniform.”

“Now that’s the real crime, isn’t it?”

Steve laughs into his hand and takes that moment to notice how un-Eddie he looks in these spare clothes. He doesn’t know much about this guy, but he always seems confident. His clothes must play a large role in that because without them, a part of Eddie seems deflated. That and he’s certain it must hurt like hell to have a broken nose.

“Had to cancel my date with Nancy tonight.” Steve doesn’t know why he shares this information. Doesn’t know why Eddie would even care.

Eddie: Wheeler?

Steve: Yes. Wheeler.

Eddie: Wheeler’s a sophomore.

Steve: Thank you for stating the obvious.

Eddie: So, she's like what-15? 16?

Steve: She’s 16, dude. Don’t be gross.

Eddie: And you’re 18?

Steve: Last time I checked.

Eddie. Right. She’s only 16.

Steve: Why did you say ‘only’ like that? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Eddie: Means you’d have to say that you’re her guardian if you wanted to get her into an R-rated movie.

Steve: She’s a sophomore, that’s not that young.

Eddie: Fine, fine. Just didn’t know you had already run out of juniors.

Steve: Are you aware how annoying you are?

Eddie: Are you aware how easy it is to tease you?

He flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, then bites down on it. And Steve doesn’t know why, but the sight of Eddie’s teeth biting down the pink flesh of his lips, forcing it white for a few seconds, torches all his insides aflame.

In a pathetic attempt to not let the embarrassment read on his face Steve begins to clear his throat - nasty, rattly sounds. Which ends up being a total mistake, because now his face feels hotter than it did one minute ago. And nothing makes a person blush more than being hyperaware that they’re blushing.

Clearly, Eddies notices the effect this has on him and cackles loud enough to cause a rippling echo in the classroom.

“That reaction was almost worth getting punched in the schnoz,” Eddie lets out a laugh that leads to a snort, causing him to wince. He puts the frozen bag back up to the bridge of his nose and tilts his head toward the ceiling.

“Ow! Oh fuck- I think your face is gonna make me start bleeding again.” 

Steve covers his mouth. “Don’t know what is more bruised: your nose or my ego.” He turns back around and lays his head on the desk, still covering his red complexion.

“We’re gonna have so much fun these next two weeks, huh Stevie?” Eddie says devilishly. Steve can just hear the smile in his voice.

“Ugh,” is all Steve can muster through his mortification. He lays there trying to wrap his brain around why Eddie licking his lips had impacted him so goddamn much. He falls asleep trying to figure it out.

[4:48 pm]

“Steve, please get up,” Ms. Arnold murmurs from the doorway.

“Yeah, Steve,” Eddie chimes in. “Falling asleep in class is very disrespectful. Tsk tsk.” 

Steven rubs his eyes and mumbles an apology to Ms. Arnold. She clearly isn’t upset at him. “Maybe you can start on some homework to keep yourself busy,” she suggests as she walks back out the door. He is awake enough to realize that Eddie is now sitting in a desk on the front row. He’s changed back into his previous outfit, dried blood and all. 

Eddie abruptly gets up and starts furiously scribbling numbers on the chalkboard. He’s mumbling and counting things out on his fingers, deep in thought. The handwriting is almost illegible, but he notices that he writes out ‘Steve,’ followed by ‘Nancy.’

“What could you possibly be doing now?” Steve asks.

“If you must know,” Eddie starts, “I’m trying to solve your little ‘date’ predicament, King Steve.” 

“Please explain.” Steve rests his head against the palm of his hand.

Eddie points at where he’s written Steve. “This-” he quickly draws a stick figure with an exaggerated amount of hair. “Is you.” 

“Ha.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Very accurate.”

“And this-” he draws another stick figure in a triangle shaped dress, with significantly less hair than the Steve drawing. “This is Nancy.” Eddie draws an arrow connecting Nancy to the numbers that he scribbled earlier. “Now here’s the part I can’t solve. Detention ends at 6,” he circles the number 6 aggressively. “And sophomores have curfews at what- 10? 11?”

Steve shrugs. 

“Love the enthusiasm,” Eddie wags the piece of chalk at Steve. “Now I’m no mathematician, but I do know that would still leave at least 3 hours for… necking, or whatever it is you do on your infamous dates.”

“For the love of God, please don’t call it necking, Munson.”

Eddie starts walking over to Steve. He places his hands on the desk and is hovering over Steve, breathing in his personal atmosphere like it’s an easyboundary to cross. “My point is: it’s not adding up, Harrington. Why would you cancel the whole evening with half of the night still available for the taking?”

Steve leans back in his chair, trying to regain some of his own personal air again. “She said she’s busy most nights.”

“Okay,” Eddie lingers. He sits on the edge of the desk. “Doing what?”

Steve accepts defeat on this guy invading his space and just shrugs again.

Eddie: Did you ask?

Steve: Why should I?

Eddie: Because that’s literally how communication works.

Steve: I guess I just figured she would’ve told me if she wanted to.

Eddie: Would you just share unsolicited information with older men?

Steve: What’s your point, Munson?

Eddie: That smart girls like Nancy Wheeler don’t just share their exact coordinates for the next 8 hours. Not even when life drops a pretty boy at their feet.

Steve: Wait, pretty b-

Eddie: -unless he had asked her very nicely. In a very non-Ted Bundy way.

Steve: First I’m ‘pretty’ and now I’m Ted Bundy. Awesome.

Eddie: Ted Bundy was pretty. That was like, his whole thing.

Steve: I cannot believe we have spiraled into arguing over whether Ted Bundy is attractive. 

Eddie: Not an argument - he’s objectively hot.

Steve: Oh, dear GOD, please let this conversation be over.

The conversation is very much not over, unfortunately. Eddie continues, “Okay, new approach - tell me something you like about Nancy.”

“Her eyes, I guess.” Steve generically states.

“What about her personality?”

“What about it?”

“What do you like about her personality, Harrington?” Eddie’s words come out pointed. Sharp edges, targeting him directly.

Steve attempts to give his answer a bit more thought this time. Maybe that will shut Eddie up. “Um. She gets answers right in class a lot.”

It does not shut him up. In fact, he’s full-on rambling now.

“No. That’s not- like…” Eddie huffs, blowing the warm air in Steve’s face. “What’s her favorite band? Her favorite cereal? Favorite flower? Subject in school? What was her favorite gift she ever got for Christmas? Does she even celebrate Christmas? Has she ever broken a bone? Does she have any siblings? Are they close? Is she-“

“I don’t know, dude!” It comes out louder than Steve had intended. “I don’t know, okay? Aren’t those things that you’d learn from going on a date? And why do you even care? We’re not even friends.”

And Steve could hear it. Sure, it was him speaking but it came out sounding just like Tommy. Like Steve’s voice box had temporarily been taken over by his friend’s in order to weaponize his words against Eddie. It makes him sink down in his seat and avoid eye contact with anything - anyone - except the floor.

[5:29pm]

Eddie twirls off the desk and says nothing for a while. He starts erasing his chalkboard scribbles and rearranging the chalk supply back to where it was prior to him taking over the classroom. Steve looks up at him a few times, but mainly keeps his gaze down.

“You’re right.” Eddie admits. Steve feels miles away from Being Right.

“Guess I just thought you found something you liked about her. Maybe common ground. You don’t travel in the same circles, so I was just kinda curious…” Eddie trails off. He is answering Steve’s question, but the volume of his voice makes him think that he is primarily talking to himself. 

Steve doesn’t answer because he doesn’t really know how to. He just thought Nancy looked nice. He knows she is smart and is friends with members of the Honors Society, but that is pretty much the extent. And Steve definitely doesn’t have any friends that are in academic-based clubs. It doesn’t matter that they don’t have any common interests at a base level, but Steve hadn’t even cared if they found other connections later on. He automatically assumed that if the physical connection wasn’t there, that he wouldn’t ask her on another date. That was the routine he had always followed up until this point.

Why did he care if that sounded superficial now? Why did Eddie’s stupid math equation featuring goofy drawings make him question his entire dating history? They aren’t even friends, so why does his perspective matter so much? Why why why wh-

“Alright boys,” Ms. Arnold’s voice frees Steve from the questioning voices in his head. “You’re free to go. Don’t forget tomorrow you’ll meet for detention in the AV center, not here.” 

[6:00pm]

Eddie is already slipping past her and down the hall. Steve gathers his things and thanks her sheepishly before heading out as well. 

When he gets to the parking lot, Eddie is already in his van blaring some distorted version of a guitar solo. The music makes Steve’s ears wish they had a different occupation besides Listening. It forces him to unlock his car door and get in as quickly as possible to block out the sounds. 

Nine more days, he thinks.

And without a better explanation besides ‘Eddie Munson is making me question my lack of morals,’ Steve finds himself driving to Nancy Wheeler’s house.

[businesscatfelix]

☕️ ko-fi comms open! ☕️

hi folks, i’m a disabled artist from australia and i’m doing kofi comms to help with warming up between bigger projects :-)

i have two types of comms available, pwyw comms (typically some kind of coloured sketch) and custom character designs/adopts. let’s get into it!

Pay What You Want comms

PWYW comms all come with colour no matter what, and start at $15 USD which will get you something like the above artworks (a bust without shading)

around $30+ you’ll be upgraded to full body and may have shading added at my discretion (it depends on how much i vibe with your character/prompt)

there is also a possibility i’ll give you a fully rendered painted bust too, or a chibi, etc. so just be aware these are pretty much artistic freedom with minimal input from the client.

custom character designs

there are two types of custom design options, one with a single artwork that’s more polished and one with two artworks that’s more loose.

these are $40 and you’ll receive a WIP where we can discuss colours/edits etc

these ones are $60 and typically chibi proportions. you can request to have a front/back view, for one or both to be clothed, or you can DM me beforehand for a quote on a third view of the design for an additional fee.

how to order:

if you have any questions or want to check how much your idea would be, DM me first or email felix(at)honeynuggs.net with your info and any refs/moodboards etc if relevant

when you’re ready go to the link below, pick your desired commission type, fill out the appropriate info and check your desired boxes, then i’ll contact you when i see the notif in my inbox ^^

ko-fi.com/honeynuggs/commissions

[sydmarch]

i've pretty much always taken commissions when asked but never put together a sheet with pricing or anything so i figured it's about time! since i have lots of different style examples/complexity levels to include i can't really figure out a good way to get everything into a one pager like some people do so sorry for the longish post!

most of my examples are disco elysium but i'll draw for whatever fandom as long as you can provide references/context. don't really have examples of nsfw here but more than willing to draw the dirty stuff too

disco elysium portrait style - $30 unless you want something really complicated

flat colors with no bg or super basic bg - $15 per character

simple shading with no bg or super basic bg - $20 per character

more detailed shading with basic bg - $25-30 per character depending on complexity

loose impressionistic style - $30 per character

fully rendered painting - $40-60 depending on complexity & style

skill portrait - $40

also i'm willing to do trades of art in exchange for fic but we'd have to hash out the details over dm

[theoneandcody]

In the spirit of pride month?

I have a crush on a girl. I guess it's good to clarify this is more for admitting it than reposts...

But I have a crush on this girl. She says she wants someone to like her as much as she likes them, and I'm waving my arms and yelling and foaming at the mouth. I love her dearly, she is my friend and for years I've had her security in the back of my mind. I love her like a friend but gods and stars above, she sweeps me off my feet with the smallest breath.

Her attention is water to my desperate wax leaves. I want it but I cannot have it, even if I were drowning. Her laughter is the sort of turn on I can't describe, other than as if I'm listening to a song constructed and performed, not solely for me, but in the way that it scratches my brain and holds my hands so dearly, so differently than it does the others.

Her words root into my heart and crawl from my mouth, overtaking me. Over two years ago she told me she felt that we were twin flames and never before had I been so attracted to fire. She envelopes me like flames to torn up newspaper.

I legitimately used to dream of her touch, not sensual or romantic, but of her hand on my shoulder, or a tap on the wrist. I yearn for a day where my eyes scouring her body can be my hands, and for her smiles to be because she realizes that I've always been hers.

I want her to know that I regret everytime I've put another crush above her- and that If I could take it all back? I wouldn't. Because strangely, I'd rather have her now that I am more mature and I know how to be affectionate. I want her to bathe in the knowing- not that someone likes her as much as she likes them, but that I like her more.

I need her to know that I hunger so dearly for her. That I have options and I have other choices, but that its her I crave. I want her to spoon me in my little twin size bed, and i want braid her hair with careful nimble hands. I want to whisper her sweet nothings, and get my license, just to take HER out on a real date.

Many times before I have been so desperate for someone... but for her I am not as desperate as I am Longing.

I do not need her to live or to be happy, but dear how I dream. How I stay up at night, waiting.

She's the Snackees cup I always wanted growing up. She's that skirt I wish I thrifted. Shes the dying plants I just want to take care of. The diamond house I never built in minecraft. She's the twenty thousand times I've wanted but never asked, because I felt that I "knew better".

Her friendship is so sacred to me and what I want is to hold her close and loose and whisper that everything will be okay. I want to teach her how to dance. I want to take her outside, and let her point out constellations while I look at them in the reflections of her eyes and the small movements of her lips.

I love so tender and so needing, and shes always returns. When I date someone, I fully devote myself. But her. The things Id do- not to have her, but to express to her the care I want to give her. To wash her face and paint her nails, to make her favorite food and give her the little spoon.

I'm not cooked, I'm smoking and seared. She's rendered me helpless and scarred and for that I am grateful. It's a pleasure to be not even in her life, but to sit in the same classroom, to see her in passing in the hallway. I will never have this relationship "in the bag", because since she first smiled at me on the second day of my new high school... I'd already fallen into her backpack. Every day I wait for her to decide the weight is worth bearing. And every day she picks up her backpack and I am weightless. Every day I am non existent and I am her occasional spectator.

Every day I'm what she breathes and I am invisible and I'm so happy.

[rainbow-nerdss]

on that you can rely

Written for @augustwritingchallenge day 13: Behind the Mirror Stucky, 3.3k Read on AO3

It took months for Bucky to find a place, and when he did, it was a dump. The interior looked like it hadn't been decorated since the seventies, and as for the structural elements…

Well, it was intact. It was mostly mold-free. And best of all, he could afford it.

The owners were renovating the building, and they didn’t have the overhead to pay a decent contractor, so they gave him the apartment at a steep discount in exchange for his services.

It was shady as fuck, and definitely illegal, but it was a place to live.

He started with his own apartment, the plumbing needing the most work. Room by room, then unit by unit, Bucky started tearing out broken fixtures, repairing original features, and working with the plumbing and electrical teams whose qualifications Bucky didn’t ask to see.

There was a mirror over the blocked-up, broken old fireplace in his own unit, cracked and damaged by age. Bucky took it down from the wall and set it aside. If he could, he'd try to get it repaired, but there was no way he could keep it in its current condition. Under the mirror, the wall was old, exposed brick — original to the building, not even plastered over. 

When Bucky examined the bricks, he found one was loose. He wriggled it, grabbing the corners with his fingertips, and finally pulled it free. Bucky shone the light from his phone into the space, and saw a small bundle of paper wedged in behind.

He grinned. 

It was why he loved working in old buildings like this, finding little treasures — whether it was an old doorknob, painted over time and again which he could clean and reveal gleaming bronze or silver, or something like this, usually useless receipts and grocery lists lost under floorboards, a little glimpse into somebody's life from decades before.

He reached in and pulled out the papers, realizing as he did that this was something more. It wasn't a receipt, or some old lists. It was bound, a journal or sketchbook probably, and it was old.

Frayed, yellowed pages with a well-worn leather cover, tied shut with what looked like butcher's twine. 

Bucky sat on the floor and slowly, carefully, untied the knot holding it all together.

The book was full of sketches, drawings in pencil of people, places and things Bucky only half recognised, snapshots of someone's life drawn in stunning detail.

The front page, on the top right corner, bore a note:

To Steve, Happy birthday, my wonderful boy.  Love Mom July, 1935

1935. Wow.

Bucky pored over the pages, the delicate lines, how the artist captured the expressions in the faces of the people he drew.

Whoever Steve had been, he was talented. Each sketch was dated and signed with a cursive S, and Bucky could see he used this paper sparingly. Some sheets of cheaper paper held rougher sketches, and those were folded and pressed between pages, but they had mostly faded over the years.

The early pages held a lot of sketches of the same people, including a woman Bucky assumed must be Steve's mother, slim and straight-backed but always smiling. Alongside her, were a few Bucky thought must be self-portraits, though Steve never gave his own face the same level of detail as his mother's.

There were some children, some strangers —neighbors, maybe, or family Steve didn't see as much.

In late 1936, Steve stopped drawing for almost three months, and from that point on there were fewer and fewer pictures of his mother, growing fainter and less detailed each time.

More new people made their way to the page as Steve's talent grew—figure studies that might have been practiced for an art class, and other, more intimate sketches. 

Bucky's breath caught in his chest as he looked through them, as he fully comprehended what he had just uncovered.

Here in his hands were stunning, carefully rendered drawings of men in varying states of undress, one rolling a pair of stockings up his leg, a pair of women kissing, drag queens and queer couples and then snapshots, an eye here, a hand there, a pair of lips, each sketch full of desire, of love.

Steve, whoever he was, had devoted at least half of the pages in this book, this precious, scarce paper, to queerness in every form. 

This here, rescued from the brick of Bucky's apartment, was history.

The last sketch was a self-portrait—Bucky could tell, though Steve had only drawn himself from the jaw down. He recognised the curve of the spine, the freckles on Steve's arm, and the way he tended to use more hard lines when drawing himself than he did with others.

In this portrait, Steve was naked, save for what looked like a sheet draped over his lap. The focus was on his chest, a series of what Bucky thought might be love bites covering his skin. The small piece of his face which was visible looked to be smiling.

It was dated April of 1943.

Bucky couldn't help but wonder what had happened, why the book was never drawn in again. 

He pictured Steve, the morning after a night of pleasure, sitting in front of the mirror, drawing this. Had his partner still been there, or was he alone?

He pictured Steve receiving a letter — had he volunteered, or had he been drafted? Bucky pictured him standing here, in this apartment, in his uniform, ready to ship out with those bruises fading underneath. Bucky imagined Steve taking down the mirror and pulling out the loose brick. Was it a hiding place Steve used often? 

Bucky saw Steve replace the mirror, and walk away.

Had he known he'd never return to retrieve it? 

Had Steve made it back from the war at all, or had he simply never made it back here, to this apartment?

Bucky went online, searching the building's records for some record of someone called Steve, but they were poorly kept. The owner at the time either operated off the books, or the records had been lost in the intervening years.

Bucky didn't know if Steve had lived there the entire time, or if this was somewhere he'd been less than a week before shipping out.

With no sign of who Steve might have been — beyond a first name, a July birthday, and an enlistment date sometime after April of 1943— Bucky resigned himself to never learning more about the man. That didn't mean it wasn't important, though.

He began to share snippets of it on social media. He kept the address private, and only referred to Steve by that first initial he used to sign the drawings, just S. 

There was always a chance that Steve had made it back from the war, that he had lived a long and happy life, that he had even left this behind on purpose. Maybe he'd married a woman, had a family — maybe a grandchild of his might recognise the art style, connect these pictures with their grandfather.

Bucky didn't know if he was comfortable with that possibility, so he did what he could to protect Steve's privacy online.

All the same, Bucky kept up the search. He looked up census records for the years in the journal, and found no fewer than six Stevens, Stephens and Stefanos in the building in 1940. He immediately dismissed the two children under the age of ten, and the man in his late fifties. 

One of the remaining men had a wife and an infant daughter in 1940, and Bucky wanted to rule him out, too. 

Of the remaining two, Stefano Rossi had marked himself as a dock laborer, and Bucky might have been wrong, but Steve didn't strike him as the type.

Steve also didn't seem the type to be a soldier, though.

The final name on the list, though, there was something about it that drew Bucky towards it, made him dismiss the other options. It almost seemed… familiar.

Steven Grant Rogers.

Steve Rogers.

A common enough name, sure, but Bucky's search results were impaired by the name being shared by Captain America, forcing him to dig through search results for anything on his Steve — past articles about the battle of New York and terrible B movies and comic books and trading card eBay listings.

Until one day, Bucky gave up, and clicked on one of those articles about Captain America out of sheer boredom.

There was a photograph, a rare one, of Cap before he became Cap. Of Steve Rogers, the day he joined the army, an enlistment photograph of him standing in front of a plain white wall. He was all sharp angles, pale skin, freckles on his arm, and… the last lingering trace of bruising down his chest.

It was him.

It was Steve.

Steve, most likely less than a week after that final portrait. 

The portrait Bucky had scanned and uploaded the night before.

Steve, who was queer, or at the very least immersed in queer culture.

Steve, who lost his mother in 1936.

Steve, who enlisted despite being turned away again and again.

Steve, who was very much alive, and very much well known.

Bucky deleted his account. He wasn't an expert, but he did what he could to scrape the pictures from the internet. The account had gained popularity, though, and his sudden disappearance caused a stir.

First it was one article. Then another. People had screenshots of his posts, and those were included in the articles.

Bucky tried making a post on a new account, asking people to stop, making up some story about the family of S reaching out, asking for the pictures to be taken down.

People accused him of faking the whole thing. Others claimed the new account was the fake one, while others still were up in arms that the "family" would dare ask for control over their grandfather's private information.

Bucky was putting the finishing touches on the apartment and trying to forget the internet existed when there was a knock on his door. 

He figured it must be the landlord, or one of the few tenants who had been able to return to the building, asking about repairs or progress on his work.

It wasn't.

It was him. Steve.

“Are you Bucky?” he asked. All Bucky could do was nod.

"Can I… would it be alright if I came in?"

Bucky stepped aside, speechless, letting him in. 

Bucky may have worked with his hands, but he’d always enjoyed history. The small things, though. Personal letters, everyday people and things. Wars had never been an area he was interested in reading about — he’d had enough war to last a lifetime, thanks. After putting the pieces together, though, he’d started looking further into the story of Captain America — during the war, and since he’d come back.

It was difficult to reconcile the image of Steve he’d built up in his head since finding the book with the figure in the history books, but here, seeing him walk in the door, look around at the place he’d once called home, Bucky could see it. He could see the artist he’d gotten to know through sketches, the man who had sat in this room, drawing his mother, drawing his friends, his lovers, himself.

Though he was taller, broader, and more muscular than the man in those drawings, though he was dressed in modern clothes, this man was, as far as Bucky could see, much more Steve than Captain America.

Neither of them spoke for almost a full minute.

“I— I should apologize,” Bucky said, breaking the silence and finding his tongue at last. Steve tore his eyes from the bare wall in front of him to look at Bucky.

“Apologize?”

Bucky crossed the room to pull the book out of the cabinet he kept it in, and Steve’s eyes zeroed onto it. 

“If I’d known it was yours,” Bucky began. “Or even that it was by anyone still alive, still out there — I shouldn’t have posted them.”

Steve had tears in his eyes as he took the book from Bucky’s hand, running his fingers over the cover reverently.

“It’s… I’m glad you posted it.”

Bucky frowned. Steve was still staring at the book, so Bucky offered him a seat and a drink. “Water’s fine, if that’s… if that’s alright.”

Bucky fetched the water, then sat next to Steve on the couch. The place was a mess — renovations just finishing, furniture all either tossed or dirty, waiting to be repaired or replaced, but Steve didn’t seem to mind or even notice.

Steve sipped his water and then set it aside to open the book up. His eyes landed on the inscription, and Bucky saw one of the tears in his eyes fall. Neither of them acknowledged it. 

“If you hadn’t posted the drawings, I’d never have known this was still out there.You didn’t share anything people could use to trace it back to me, but even if you had… Thank you.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, so he just watched, as Steve slowly turned the pages of the book. 

“She was a nurse,” Steve said, pausing on a portrait of the woman Bucky had assumed to be his mother. The words felt rehearsed, like Steve had said them hundreds of times already, until they lost meaning. “Worked on a TB ward. Got hit, couldn’t shake it.”

“Shit, that’s… I’m sorry, man.”

Steve turned the page, and he smiled at the image. “I remember this day.” It was another portrait of her. Steve spoke about it, about the day out they took together, how he’d taken the book along and drawn her sitting on the grass where they ate a picnic lunch. 

“Tell me about the rest?” Bucky asked. “If… If you want to.”

Steve sniffed. “I haven’t spoken about these people in so long,” he admitted.

He flicks through the pages, telling Bucky about the people held within these pages. His mom, his neighbors and friends, and the others. As he spoke, the carefully controlled speech pattern slipped, replaced with a looser Brooklyn accent.

“I started going after Ma died. This little bar, hidden away. I only found it because I’d been walking along and I heard —” Steve snorted. “Well, I thought it was a fight, some poor guy getting beaten up.”

“It wasn’t?” 

Steve shook his head. “Nope. They looked scared when I walked in, but I guess they musta seen somethin’ in my face, because next thing I knew, I was downstairs, and all these people around me, they were… They were like me, you know?”

Bucky remembered his first time in a gay bar, the sense of belonging he’d felt, nineteen years old with a fake ID. He imagined that feeling, multiplied by about a  hundred for Steve.

Steve continued through, telling Bucky story after story from the club, the people he’d known there. 

“Did you ever—” Bucky started to ask, then stopped himself, thinking it was probably too personal a question. 

Steve shrugged. “Nobody special. One or two I thought, maybe, but…” He shrugged. Turned the page. “That’s Bill. Got called up in ‘41. Johnny signed up right after, followed him out.”

One by one, Steve told Bucky about the people he lost, the ones who went off to fight and never came home, the ones who came home but didn’t live long enough for Steve to see again.. 

“And you?” Bucky asked. Steve turned to the last page. 

“This one… My buddy, he was… well. Maybe, if the war hadn’t happened, we could've made something of it. I… I could’ve loved him. This was the night before he shipped out, we just wanted… something. Something to remember, out there. It was a good night. Next day, I stashed the book behind the mirror, went out, and I met Erskine.”

“And here we are,” Bucky finished for him. 

“Here we are.”

Steve closed the book, held it up, and pressed his lips to the cover, eyes squeezed shut. 

"I looked him up, after they showed me the internet."

Bucky didn't ask, afraid of the answer. Steve's face said it all, though —whatever happened to Steve's friend, it wasn't good. Bucky saw the shadows in his eyes, and decided to change the subject slightly, to pull him out of that space.

"I grew up in a shitty little town in Indiana," he said. "It was… rough, honestly. The kids liked to throw around a lot of names, and I never really knew anyone else who was… well, I was going to say gay, but really I didn't know anyone queer growing up. My family is great, but it wasn't until I moved here for college that I found people I could really be myself with."

Steve put the book down on his lap and turned to listen to Bucky, resting his arm on the back of the couch. Bucky couldn't decide whether it was surprising how easy Steve Rogers was to talk to, to confide in.

"Although, looking back… there were these two women who lived in my neighborhood, they were both in their seventies, at least. Everyone called them sisters, but I never really saw a resemblance."

Slowly, Bucky saw Steve's expression turn lighter, almost a smile. "Well, I was reading up on local history, once, and I got my hands on a bunch of old yearbooks from the local high school."

"You've always been into history, then?" Steve asked.

"Personal histories. Social stuff. Things with real people, yeah."

"And the yearbook?"

"They were in one of them. Class of '46, I think?”

“Not much younger than me, then,” Steve said with a wry sort of smile. 

“I guess not,” Bucky agreed. “But there they were, both of them. Smiling on opposite pages.”

“Different surnames,” Steve deduced, and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah. I never asked them about it, of course, but you’re not the first person who I’ve looked up in census records. They were never sisters, they just let people go with whatever assumptions were made. Sisters, friends, whatever was easier. They lived together in that house since the 50’s. They had a life together. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for them, but…”

“But they did it,” Steve finished. “Are they—”

“Julia passed about five years back, but Betty’s still there, in that same house.”

Steve was quiet for a while, thinking. “I know there's still a long way to go, but… It’s easier now, right?”

He looked at Bucky, and their eyes met with a new sort of intensity. Bucky could tell Steve was searching for something in his face, but he didn’t know what it could be. 

“Yeah, it’s easier now.” 

Steve was still looking at him, and Bucky couldn’t look away. He’d imagined Steve’s face so often based on his self portraits, beyond the lines of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. That intensity was there, in the real thing, but it was all… more. Bucky didn’t know if it was the serum, or simply the difference between the drawing and reality. 

His eyes dropped to Steve’s lips, and those… Steve had never done his own mouth justice in his sketches, Bucky decided. Soft, pink, beautiful. Bucky swallowed, and Steve released a breath, like he’d found what he was looking for. 

He leaned forward, hand reaching out to rest just above Bucky’s waist. Bucky wondered, absently, when they’d come to sit so close together, but the thought was quickly replaced by far more urgent ones as Steve crossed that small distance, slowly, giving Bucky every chance to pull away. 

He didn’t pull away. He met Steve in the middle, until their lips brushed, just a shadow of a kiss, really. They paused there, in the almost-but-not-quite.

“My life is really fucking complicated,” Steve whispered against his lips. “If you don’t want that, I get it.”

Bucky answered by sliding his fingers into Steve’s hair, holding the back of his head, and kissing him.

[coldcruelandcarlosless]

Hey, do you like my art style?

Do you want to support a small artist who desperately needs money right now?

Do you perhaps..

Want your blorbo to be painted in this style??

That's right!!

MY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN

For a limited time, I'm desperately begging for money from people I've never met!!! Please this is a cry for help! If you can't commission me do reblog!

I will draw just about ANYTHING

LOOSELY COLORED HEADSHOT SKETCHES - 10 USD

Add 5 USD for busts and ask about the rest

But look!! Wow!!! It's a loosely colored sketch that could be your blorbo in this exact style!

FULLY RENDERED HEADSHOT - 20 USD

Add 5 USD for busts or more then add 5 for lighting if you want it.

ADD 10 USD FOR EXTRA CHARACTERS! No matter if it's a sketch or painting or what else!! 10 USD for extra characters and that price will not go up!! What a steal!!

I WILL NOT draw:

Animals! I'm bad at them

I will not copy any art style! I want to paint in my own style it's all I have going for me!

I WILL draw:

Just about anything! I'll tell you if it makes me uncomfortable!

COMMISSION ME TODAY! There are no slot limits as of right now! I will stop taking commissions April 25-26th

Payment upfront. I have Kofi, PayPal, cashapp, and Venmo.

[baconcolacan]

Since I’m still stuck at work and cant do anything, I thought it would be fun to post my drawing process for my semi-serious style, using the latest fanart I did with Edd and Edu but only featuring Edd :3c Maybe one day I’ll make a speedpaint but thats not today. If you’re curious, one by one below the line + me talking about the process (as best I can)

1. Preliminary sketch. These are my roughs, this is the start after I had my brainstorm and planning phase. I’ve found all my references and did the pose myself as well so I know what it feels like and if its bodily possible. 2. Clean sketch. This is where I loosely put in all the nitty-gritty, where the folds are, details of the hair, etc etc. I change the pencil colour so I can differentiate certain parts. 3. Line art. Like it says on the tin, but for my semi-serious style I tend to avoid lining folds because I prefer to paint them in this style. 4. Grey out. I need this layer so that I don’t get blinded/confused when I lay down the colours,

5. Flats. So all the colours needed, usually when I draw backgrounds they would also depend on the lighting, so I would colorize them if needed, but for standalones I just put in the basic colours. 6. Soft shadows. I tend to use multiply layers for this step, but sometimes I also do normal layers, in case I feel as though the colour should be more relative to its surroundings since multiply wont let me do that. It all depends on how I want the shadows to feel on the piece, but when I’m lazy I just do multiply (lol). Soft shadows also include the colour on the planes of the face, so = yellow for forehead, red for middle, blue for the lower part aka jaw area. Of course also the reds on the skin in other areas like elbows and knees, but since Edd is fully clothed, its just the tip and inner part of his ear, and the tips of his fingers. 7. Hard shadows and minor highlights. For my style, I gear more towards a watercolour style kind of shading, so I follow that principle when I decide where to put and how to render my shadows. Typically I have at minimum 4 layers for this type of hard shadow shading. The minor highlights here are just the lights in the pupil, and a soft large airbrush going over the spaces where shadows cant reach. 8. Missing details and overlay highlights. Near the end I put in all the little details I missed, so in here its Edd’s 5 o’clock shadow, and some scuffs and scrapes on his clothing and shoes. The overlay highlights are super subtle but make the drawing feel a bit more alive, for me at least, these highlights are the ones on the “bumps” of the clothing folds, and the hair highlights.

9. Hard highlights and atmospheric lights. The finale! This is where I just put in the brighter, harder, highlights in places they should be, and then clip a Luminosity/Overlay layer on top of the entire drawing, using a large soft brush I go over the drawing to put a bit more brightness into it. And there! Thats how I render in my semi-serious artstyle. But...eh, dont be fooled, I know this step by step makes it look like I would jump around all the parts of the drawing and render things equally, sadly thats far from the truth. My perfectionism flares up badly and it often leads to me obsessing over a singular part before moving on, so the process would look more like this:

yeah......

[sammtoland]

This is or was the sketch of my 2nd painting. I’m thinking to refine parts of it a bit but I agree with the feedback I got in class that it feels like finished piece already. I feel like it captured the subjects, Cootie and Chloe, well. They’re always two peas in a pod and this was a moment when I was walking past them cleaning each other and they both stopped to look at me when I tried to capture a picture. It was a nice soft moment and I think the looseness of the brushwork captures that more than fully rendering and layering would.

[of-beasts-and-blood]

Carnival Costumes | Task 15

Fyodor - a gladiator. Golden armbands that cover his mark, a sculpted chest piece, a red skirt, a belt with a sheathed sword, a shield on his back. He’s fully committing to the bit for Declan and it’s fully going to bite him in the ass. 

Glenda - Death Eater - but subtle. Glenda is political, not stupid. Her outfit is a typical red devil costume. Red devil horns, red leotard, red leggings, red makeup. But then there’s the small details. A silver skull mask worn on the side of her head. Comical skulls drawn on her forearms. If you know, you know. If you don’t, it’s still a fun look. 

Clifford - “Hear no Evil”. Look, Clifford is booksmart, but he’s hardly the brains trust. He didn’t want a sexy outfit, he didn’t think Enes would want to go matchy, and he came up with what he thought was a funny joke. It’s a monkey costume. Like literally a monkey costume you could hire from the costume store that is essentially a onesie. It’s kinda cute, kinda silly. It does not look like a monkey. 

Devereaux - A skeleton (Karate Kid style). He’s got the black outfit with the bones. It’s kinda cheesy. But then his face - god, his face. He’s handpainted it himself. It’s beautifully rendered in brush strokes of white and black and grey. The curve of the eye sockets is… oddly melancholy. And then he was given the “Return to Laure” shirt without much opportunity to say no, so now he’s just a skeleton that belongs to Laure.

Lonnie - Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Show. As in, he isn’t there.

Cassidy - Carmilla. It’s a look that most people probably wouldn’t get, but she feels powerful and feminine and that’s all she cares about. Her dress is velvet and clings to her every curve. Long sleeves, a deep v-neck, and a train that pools around her feet. Her hair is teased out. Blood red lipstick graces her smile, smudged in deliberate places. Is this a practical outfit to do Halloween things in? Absolutely not. Does Cassidy care? Absolutely not.

Kimiko - Madge Maddox, her favourite musician. She’s got a big blue star painted across her face, full skeleton earrings dangling from her ears. She’s in platform glittery boots that she fully cannot balance in, and a striped sequined jumpsuit. Her hair is sculpted back against her head with more gel than even Oliver Hedley has used. 

Rishan - full magician regalia. Like literally what he wears on stage. A three piece suit, decorated with black sequins and rhinestones to catch the light and give him that ethereal look. His coat has tails and he’s wearing a top hat. And stage makeup. Guyliner. Guyliner. He’s having a lot of fun walking around and doing magic tricks. It’s back to his roots, and it’s a breath of fresh air. 

Whitney - he wasn’t planning on wearing a costume, but he also knew that he would feel Lily’s disapproving glare all across the festival. So he’s wearing plastic vampire fangs and a black cloak. 

Harrison - a card shark. Yes, it’s terrible. He knows. That’s the point. His hair is slicked back and silvery-grey. There’s a fin stuck to his back. And the worst part - the worst part - is the cards crafted into his lapel and cuffs. He’s wearing a pair of fake pointy teeth that he has to take out for almost every conversation. 

Jack - he’s a Snitch. He’s got gold glitter on his arms and cheeks and hair, he’s wearing dumb shiny gold shorts and a vest, and silver pipe-cleaner wings. He’s so proud of it. 

Euphemia - The Lady of the Lake. She’s wearing a silvery, wide-sleeved dress that falls like water. There’s a braided green belt around her waist, and a matching braided crown. Her hair is loose and wavey. And she’s holding a sword. She’s very excited about the sword (don’t ask her about the sword, because she will jump into a long history lecture about it). 

Shivaun - Dullahan. He didn’t have much time to prepare, but he wanted something to cover his face. He’s wearing an actual pumpkin on his head, with the insides carved out by magic and cleaned by magic so he doesn’t smell like pumpkin. He’s cut triangle eye holes and a zigzag mouth. The rest of his outfit is formalwear - a white shirt with puffy sleeves and frilly cuffs, and an embroidered waistcoat. His scarring is covered and his face is covered and he’s never felt more handsome. 

James - For the sixth year in a row, Sirius Black. He’s in the same shitty black wig, which is getting progressively more knotted, the same school uniform, which is unbuttoned down to his navel, and the same Gryffindor tie, which is very loosely and sloppily tied. This year has a very significant extra though - a handheld mirror to occasionally blow kisses into.

[colorico-art]

2024.01.23 - PDCA

Previous Notes

Rendering

Overall rendering looks good, however the linework still feels too refined. Comparing to the sketching phase, it's evident that a lot of the vibrancy and motion from the sketch doesn't fully carry over. This seems to be more of a practice-related item, since a lot of Akihiko's work includes primarily refined lines in the final pieces (when not approaching a painted style).

Possible to have the sketchwork not be as "refined" in the next piece, but not so loose compared to Loish's work (possibly reduce the sketch refinement stage to 1 pass, instead of three passes and then the final linework)?

Ears (Complete)

Ears are simple, and are proportionate to the head. Having the anatomy breakdown from Andrew Loomis helped immensely, and should be easier to develop the ears in various positions. Try pushing more exaggerated poses and expose the ears in future pieces to continue practicing.

Eyes

Eyes are proportionate to the piece and still feel like Akihiko's style. The color gradient is not typical in Akihiko's works, but due to character backstory, coloring receives a pass this time around. However, no eye variance was used. Experiment with eye variety to get different emotions and expressions for various types of characters.

Hair

Hair continues to have more flow and expression. Although could be "completed", cross-hatching used on the hair feels haphazard; it doesn't feel intentional compared to how Akihiko handles the cross-hatching on hair. Review past pieces and determine how the cross-hatches emphasize hair flow. Hair styling experimentation has gone well, but vary hair length on top of the styling.

Background

A new concept; Akihiko doesn't emphasize backgrounds like other artists. Based on past works, backgrounds are hardly existent or complement the subject present. On those grounds, the background used here technically fits the bill.

However, the background choice used here was not handled in the same manner as Akihiko (an image was used with filters to attempt to merge the two mediums). Look into simple background renderings or forgo backgrounds, but ensure the subject is the focal portion of the piece that the canvas doesn't feel like wasted space.

Miscellaneous Notes

This was definitely a difficult piece to put together; this was the first full body piece where a 3D model was not directly used in creating the initial idea or passing stages. Despite that, the end result was definitely worth the effort! Reference material is still needed for detailed work and certain anatomy-related items, however it should be fine to experiment with base compositions and then rendering without strictly adhering to a 3D model for assistance.

[el-pada]

I dont wanna come off as pushy, but someday could you do a speed-paint video please? Ive asked like 20 tumblr artists key facts on learning stuff and like 11 of them went “speed-paints”, and your shit(affectionate) is cool so yea sorry for long ask bye gn I'm tired.

the few speedpaints ive recorded are heavy enough to crash my computer when i try to load them so have a set of stages in my drawings instead

sketch: i lay down the composition and body language, if im feeling confident ill also plan values but i didn't in this case. i try to keep a very loose vibe as the more layers to lineart the more stiff the characters can feel

lineart: shit gets cleaned up, characters and background defined, keep background, characters and foreground linearts on different layer groups, you'll thank me later

flats: the ugliest stage in my opinion but necessary, start planning a light source for the next step

base shadows: simple as well, just shade based on light source and bouncing light, you can also do some rendering on some parts. i like to do my initial shading without multiply layers as it gives it a bit of a painterly look

coloring the lineart: helps pull the piece together and add a sence of depth, this is also why we separated the lineart layers so they work more smoothly without cutting of colors

now i would consider this done but i wanted to change the mood so we now go onto extra stuff

here i did some heavy hue altering to a colder atmosphere, mostly using hue shift and lighting settings on editing

multiply layers are your friends for dramatic shadows, use them wisely, i actually erased them in mariza's hair to make it stand out

lighting time to make the shadows stand out more, remember that its also going to reflect on surfaces near them so keep a track or those. i used glow layers for this

value check! something that should be done across the entire process, helps you track your shadows and lights without the colors getting in the way. use it to avoid muddy areas of greys on your art

mess around with some settings and gradient maps and boom! you got your fully done ilustration, theres a lot i didnt touch on like painting rendering and some extra pizzaz i like to add but im running out of image capacity and time so i hope this helped

happy drawing!