#ms stevens

[art-i-choked]

AAAH SNAKE

[el10t1n4]

Ms paint is the best program,

in general, I wanted the art to be longer and I wanted to draw crystal gems at the end, but I was too lazy and my laptop would probably burn out :р

[ceramictank]

dont look at me

[insectlarvae]

[maria-ruta]

MS Paint art

as I already mentioned severl times, sometimes I draw in MS Paint, tho NOT all of my art is, some I draw in Sai2 (when I need to make something complicated with lots of characters/complex composition/background planes etc)

But here are examples of my art that I did draw in MS Paint:

yes im showing off)))))

[zaisamoo]

imagine if dazai never got promoted to executive and worked with chuuya in jewel dealing i cant find my ipad so i drew it on ms paint um

[dimeadozencows]

Sooo I've been obsessed with this au for a few days now and I thought.. why not use my abilities for evil

These are the designs from the tf2 x Steven Universe au by @lenny-link drawn in Steven Universe's art style! Or my best attempt at it lol.

I think the best looking ones are spy, heavy and soldier :]

Close ups↓

Also here's just the background; it's the bg from the tf2 lineup as a SU background, I'm really proud of how it looks hsjdjd

I also HAD to draw Andalusite by @gracefireheart cus good god he has taken over my entire heart. He's truly everything. The myth the legend the icon the moment. Happy pride month.

I like giving him a receding hairline cus. medic(has hair) + heavy(bald) = less hair. mathematics. The first drawing is my puny amateurish attempt at Rebecca Sugar's beautiful doodle art style. (I think I nailed the face and hair tho hehe)

(Your drawings are what introduced me to this au, I love them sm- I really hope you'll like this!!) (p.s; sorry for giving him a boob window. I wasn't strong enough.)

Aaaand my own design for a medic and scout fusion, Tourmaline! They only really form him when they both feel like wreaking havoc. he's impulsive, inattentive, hyperactive, he has no self preservation, and he's low-key dumb. When his senses kick in is usually when they unfuse. He can't see for shit and has to constantly remind himself to put on his glasses

(scout and medic shitty lil bratty kid + uncle who enables them dynamic truthers rise up)

(I had so many ideas for things I wanted to post so I thought I'd just put it all in one place gsjdjd, I hope people won't mind :'] )

[cartoonbudartz]

Halloween drawings vol 2!

[clayclayton332]

FORD FIDDLEFORD STANLEY AND SARDONYX?!??! and the lalala seals... i love them...

[userbrielarson]

[Kamala’s] mother presents her with a costume she had made in Karachi. The color scheme is similar to her idol, Captain Marvel, but the silhouette is in line with her Pakistani heritage, the garment taking the form of tights, a kameez, and a dupatta. “Even just if you look at the detailing,” [executive producer Sana] Amanat said, “there’s a lot of cool textures in it that Arjun [Bhasin] incorporated that feel very South Asian in a very subtle way, and yet have that texture and weaving that superhero suits have.” –Delia Harrington, "The Importance of Getting Ms. Marvel’s TV Costume Right"

Kamala Khan’s Uniform in MS. MARVEL – SEASON 1 (2022), for @mcuchallenge

[the-yellow-birdy]

Is it better to speak, or to die?

A/N: Long time no see! This is an unedited first draft of the "Call me by your name" with Jane Murdstone idea(without the grooming ofc). Please let me know if you want me to continue and idk if im gonna change this draft as well, since I wrote it a bit fast. Feedback is definitely appreciated!:)

L.O.L. - Yellowbird

//18+ audience only! - all characters are above the age of 18\\

Summer, 1867

As you felt the lightness and warmth spread across the naked skin of your body, the repeating of your thoughts was tuned out by the sound of crickets in the all-round shrubbery. Sweat dripped from your neck and down your clavicle, going further with every breath you took in of the thick mid-summer air. The serene crystals reflecting from the icy lake had never been more inviting. Your hair was drenched from your own sweat and sticking to your forehead in need of a wash from the shining water. You looked at your pocket watch.

A quarter to five.

Summers spent at your uncles were where you found the most solace. He and his wife were wonderful, they so often invited you to come here and visit them and their charming vacation home. Days here were spend, swimming in the many lakes and ponds you would find on your outings, visiting nearby cities, reading various books from your uncles’ impressive library and cherry-picking in the midday with your uncles’ wife, Mary. Mary was a warm, outgoing woman. She found joy and interest in everything she saw, while speaking terribly loud and out of order about it. A significant contrast to your more timid uncle. A quiet and closed of man, who preferred the comfort of his study and the much-appreciated knowledge of ancient artifacts from the dusty books he kept. 

When you saw through the personality differences, you found quickly, that they were made for each other. Especially when you on occasion caught a glimpse of them in the family room on your way to your chamber in the late evenings. There, in the privacy of their relation, they laugh, talk and exchange tender touches, soft laugh lines forming around your uncle’s mouth. 

More you haven’t dared stayed to witness, it would be rude and improper to impose on such tender moments.

The grass tickled your bare feet as you stretched the whole of your body.

There was to be a visitor this year. Uncle Cyrus was a widely acknowledged archeologist professor, teaching at the Da Vinci institute back in Berlin. He was a passionate individual who spent his summers nose deep in the same subject and area as his livelihood.

Although this year, your uncle had decided to open his home once more for interested candidates, who would very much like to visit the north Italian countryside with many findings from the grand sea not far. It had been several years since a fellow interested had accompanied him over the summer. Your uncle was an elderly gentleman, about seventy, his wife around a decade younger having carried no children nor related to any nieces or nephews except you, therefore he had begun searching for a new candidate.

It was to be a woman, he told you. A professor in anthropology, beginning the early stages of research in the areas of archeology.

“It is a marvel! Have you ever heard such unique wonder, Mary!”, your uncle shouted out of character, several weeks ago from his office, as you were sat reading in front of the fireplace. Truly a neck-breaking sight, as he stumbled frantically out of his study, your presence going unnoticed by him, and up the spiral staircase.

A woman. You had thought. 

Never had you heard of such a thing. A woman professor in anthropology.

You weren’t a daft girl yourself, of course you knew it was possible, never had you simply heard of it, often being told as a young girl to keep your head out of the clouds, the books you read had formed. Followed later, by restriction of said books. 

You sat back on your heels and let the wind blow against the ample flesh of your chest, yawning at the thought of the walk back to the vineyard. Brown and green stains had soiled the white fabric of your dress. You had laid upon it as an alternative for the blanket you had forgotten. Your undergarments used for drying the water of your skin. 

You begin dressing yourself by efficiently buttoning up your corset, followed by tying your undergarments and chemise. As you had put your dress and heeled boots on you stepped out of the Oaktree’s shadow and began your walk back home. You couldn’t remember at which hour the candidate would arrive, so you thought it best to pick up your pace.

---------

“Y/n! Wherever have you been, dear? You look as if the bear had gotten its paws on you.”, Mary looked bewildered as she descended the staircase.

The house was a French inspired Cascina residence. Beautifully build from the first laid brick to the last, with simple tree carved windows and a robust brick red roofing. The foyer of the home displayed simple white-yellow walls with paintings placed on them and the floor covered with a variety of Axminster carpeting.

It wasn’t grand, nor expensive, yet it was charming and the life it oozed never ceased to calm you, when you spend your summers here.

“Simply by the lake, Aunt Mary. I apologize for my appearance; I… tripped… on the way back.”, you lied, trying to seal it with a genuine smile.

She came quickly to where you stood. She held a gentle grip on your forearms, turning you in her grasp to further inspect. 

Her eyes looked upon your face, “tripped you say?”

“…badly”, you added, choosing not to look her in the eyes opting for the dress.

Aunt Mary apparently chose to leave the matter at hand, knowing the visitor would be arriving at any moment now.

“Alright well, go wash yourself off and change to a dress that doesn’t make you look like a rogue child. Ms. Murdstone shall be arriving shortly.”, she gave you a light squeeze to your upper arms.

“Ms. Murdstone?”, you whispered.

“Yes yes, you know? The assisting candidate of your uncle.”

You nodded slowly, letting the name of the woman sink in. Ms. Murdstone. It was a rather odd name for an unmarried woman you pondered.

“Off you go!”

As you gave your aunt a curt smile and looked down, you went to ascend the staircase. Unbeknownst to you, a soaked washcloth was further from your reach than you had thought--

You froze in the middle of the staircase, quick steps of your uncle coming into view at the top, as three knocks had rung out in the room. Silence. 

You turned to look down at your aunt, yet her eyes already laid upon her husband. Hurriedly your uncle went past you.

“Y/n, there is no time, give a quick greeting and leave to change thereafter.” Mary whispered tightening your uncle’s butterfly.

How utterly humiliating. 

It is no secret that first impressions matter, yet your disorderly mind has kept you from making just that. This woman was going to be met by a soiled dirty looking young woman, will she not have a fright? 

Please lord, forgive my poor deeds.

As your uncle took a deep breath to calm his nerves and looked towards your aunt and you, a quick furrow of his eyebrows as he laid his eyes upon your dress, he turned the doorhandle and stepped aside.

In your peripheral you observed the darkness of the woman’s shadow, yet you couldn’t keep your gaze fixed upon the carpets any longer. 

“Ms. Murdstone, a pleasure to meet you!”, your uncle nervously laughed, his figure disappearing behind the woman.

It was the first glance you ever laid upon her.

As she sauntered through the blackwood door, the first thing you noticed was a significant height difference between her and yourself. She had the skin of a snowclad field in winter and hair black as raven feathers, styled to the sides of her head. She looked around the space as if assessing the quality of the housing, foregoing any introduction of herself. The woman wore an all-black attire, from her corsage to her skirts, to her low sitting cap. Her gloved hands were clad in front of her, trading the warm energy of the home with a sophisticated and poised aura.

The woman turned midway through the door, looking at your uncle, “pleasures all mine, Mr. Bamford”, said the woman with a faux saccharine undertone. 

She smoothly shifted her focus in front of your aunt. “Mrs. Bamford, I presume?”, her honeyed smile went wide as she looked down upon your aunt, yet her eyes held something much unalike.

You looked to your aunt, her mouth fell slightly agape, “Uh.. Uhm.. yes, welcome”. She stuttered.

It was clear that the woman’s intensity had gotten the better of both Aunt Mary and your uncle.

“And this is…?”, you quickly turned your head to the woman who now, was meandering in your direction. Her eyes were trained on your face, and unamused expression had fallen upon hers. She looked back at your uncle as if expecting an answer. 

“Uhm Y/n, sorry... Ms. L/n…, Ms Murdstone”, you looked down. Your vision was disrupted by black fabric coming to place right in front of you.

Ms. Murdstone gave an unimpressed glance to your aunt and uncle, “I see. Look at me girl.”

A hand came to lift your chin.

You watched as she tilted her head to observe the state of you. Definitely not impressed. Your eyes searched for your aunt and uncle, who simply ignored your silent pleas, and kept up their mannered smiles. They gave each other a short-whiled look and went back to woman and the scene unfolding.

As your eyes went back to the woman, your spine chilling at the sight of the woman’s light blue eyes and found she had been staring directly at your face. 

Hopefully she is not bothered by it, it is not simply a dress to clean.

She quickly let go of you again. Her gaze leaving as fast as it came. Ms. Murdstone wandering further into the house, “My belongings have been left outside by the carriage, I believe a maid will fetch it, or am I to do so myself?”

“Oh yes, of course uhm, right away!”, exclaimed your uncle and went to call for the staff, while your aunt scurried after the observing woman, already entering another area of the house.

*click*

As you closed the heavy wooden door you watched your reflection in the window. Nervously you studied yourself. 

I don’t believe I have any filth on my face.

Tagelist:

@readingtheentrails @ladybathoryy @aemilia19

[sjbattleangel]

Whenever discourse around cartoons like Steven Universe, She-Ra, The Owl House, The Legend Of Korra, video games like Spider-Man 2, Life Is Strange, Alan Wake 2, Forspoken, Usual June, Dustborn, comics like Ms. Marvel, Ironheart, Champions, Unstoppable Wasp and other diverse media pops up...

I'll leave this here:

Lisa Simpson presentation: 'Diverse Media made by and/or staring women and marginalized groups are always held to way higher, harsher, unrealistic standards compared to media made by and starring non-diverse groups of people (especially cishet white men).'

[el10t1n4]

I'm too lazy to do anything with the background :7

[dandelionjack]

have you guys seen the ‘Ms Flood is Anita’ theory going round on reddit and twitter? i’m wary of any kind of theorising now after the ruby parentage rug pull whiplash, but this one looks like it’s got legs. here’s the gist of it:

moffat said he had to “read the s15 finale script” for some reason while he was writing his christmas special. and then he devoted a solid 1/4 of the episode to anita, essentially a tangential one-off character who was in the episode for longer than joy but not mentioned anywhere beforehand. her friendship with the doctor was given major emphasis before she was sent off to work where? the time hotel.

this is ms flood’s suitcase. a LOT of these locations have doors in the time hotel — if she doesn’t have a TARDIS, how could she have travelled to all these places? through the hotel where she spent her life working. Torajii Trains are mentioned in the newspaper Fifteen’s holding when he exits the TARDIS into the hotel lobby at the beginning of the episode.

never seen a TARDIS before?

oh, and Ms Flood is played by Anita Dobson. how’s that for an in-joke? i mean, russell had Susan Twist playing Susan Triad, there’s a precedent for it.

[anonymouseii]

Presenting… Mr Eraser!! Fusion between Ms Joke and Aizawa Shouta

This took too long ;o; but I hope the few people who see this beauty like him!

[saliosis]

*leans against expensive car* hi wordgirl fandom it's been a while