#watercolor story

[streetwhispers]

There are many lovely towns around us. Each one has its own souvenirs, but sometimes they are drawn so poorly it hurts to look at them. Looking at those, I drew my own version. In the picture is the town of Neersen, known for its castle and nearby park. It's usually depicted as the town's symbol on mugs. Let it be beautiful!

[arttsuka]

@wolfythewitch 's gravity fowls au, again...

Mcducket with Tate (when he was an egg)

Stan would sell 'mystery eggs' and it would just be rocks or something

[astrowarr]

i haven't watched pearl's episode yet. but there's something to be said about the fact that she knew scar well enough to know that, when it was the two of them, he would have too much pride to accept a sacrifice.

she doesn't want to win, and she tells him at first before she quietly tucks that secret back into its shell after scar's indignant reaction to her first attempt at self-sacrifice. she lets scar forget about it as they kill gem, and then as scar kills pearl. at no point does she try to say here, let me give this to you. she knows scar, but she also knows the pain of an ending like that.

but she misses a few swings, doesn't she? her legs don't move as quickly to duck away from his arrows. and isn't that familiar? isn't that something like a cactus ring, with two unrelenting fists and two half-hearted ones: a fight with two unwilling participants, a fight that was over before it ever really began at the insistence of one of its patrons

pearl is all too familiar with the sting of sacrifice, but then on the other side of things... scar knows all too well the tragedy of gifted victory, doesn't he?

[icantdothistodaybruh]

The BoM side story won't let go of me

[gentil-minou]

I am not an artist but I never want to forget this.

I am not a number.

I am a whole planet.

-Khalil

[kelogsloops]

A little story about a kid who dreamt of becoming an artist 🥹 Only a few days left to grab the artbook before the campaign ends here: The Art of Kelogsloops I still remember the day I sat down with mum and told her I wanted to pursue art. “Don’t do it” she said. I think many people know the feeling of having their dreams shut down — it sucks. I even remember the fear of taking those first steps towards chasing this dream: it was scary, tiring and filled with uncertainty. But in the past few months spent writing this book, going back and reflecting on this journey has made me realise how far I’ve come and how it all started. I really am grateful that I get to do this each day and every day, so I truly owe a heartfelt thank you to everyone (except Mrs. T) Wherever you are right now, whatever it is you’re doing or want to do, keep going! #brbchasingdreams

[jm-chrome]

idk… I tried experimenting with a diff art style

[magentasnail]

hello I made this book for my art class and this is a bad version of it !!

also my mom crocheted it for me!

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

Harley joining the batfam be like.

(More shenanigans under the cut)

Harley: Bats! I have a gift for ya! Batman: ... What is this? Harley: A club's membership's card! Batman: ... Harley: And I've some for the commie, his daughter and your big red riding hood.

The cards in question:

(yes, she drew the pictures. Jason is Bat Brat for reasons)

[leapdayowo]

some pre-ISAT art 👀

Bummer :(( I thought I had taken a least one more process picture but I guess I didn’t :P oh well, this piece had more blocks of color to paint in rather than dynamic lighting/shadows so a timelapse probably would have looked better

Anyways, my brain latched onto Isa and Mira’s relationship right when they met each other and before they met the others 👀 I have a more light hearted painting at the sketch phase of them (I have a bit more time this week to work on stuff, so fingers crossed I can get some more art done!)

[paintpaintpaintman]

Bathing pond pt. 2 featuring Narinder growing his hair out and it is in an ugly stage so he wears it half up and half down

(Part 1)

I wish paintings could scan sharper sigh.... my scanner is pretty outdated and you KNOW brother can't afford a new one SO THIS WILL HAVE TO DO!!!!

This is made with the new paints, while part one wasn't and ALSO it has been 4 months and I think I am able to say I've made progress with lots of things!

Lots of lore I'm unsure of how to go about sharing but you know what

Bath pond is consistent

There's just this pond. A short walk from the temple. And it's just the communal bath. They can fit like 3-4 people in there (4 if you're REALLY determined). That's all. That's literally it. The Cult lay out is specific and has lore HAHAHA

[ane-doodles]

I think I accidentally created another au...

[inubaki]

Adam Dies

Requested by @libby-for-life for their amazing story

—-I’m never really requested so it’s cool when it happens. hope everyone has a lovely day!

I’ll be up in New Mexico for a nearly a week. So I’ll have a hard time posting my obsession. Wish me luck!

[astrowarr]

“We should get out of here,” Grian whispers, but he is unmoving as his gaze stays pinned to Scar. Something about Scar’s eyes, so impossibly green, keeps him rooted in the crannies of the cobbled concrete under his feet. The glow of the street light over their heads paints a sharp, clear image of Scar and the toothy grin he flashes. The bustle of the city center ever permeates the air; a loud, boisterous laugh here, an angry, affronted shout there. 

But when Scar smiles at him like that, the noise cottons into nothing but a dull thrum in the back of his skull. Scar is smiling. Despite the fact that every bone in Grian’s body should be screaming in alarm, they do not. Instead, they pulse with something warm, something content. Grian is surrounded by enemies the way he always is, but Scar is four art-adorned walls and a worn shingled roof to match. Nothing can reach Grian here, in the safety of Scar's gaze.

There's little to no space between them, and Grian does nothing to change that. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracks the gentle, methodical movement of Scar's curled hand, so slow as he reaches up. The backs of those crooked fingers brush against his face, so light Grian nearly loses it to the night's warmth.

And then, like a moonflower, his hand unfurls; he doesn't quite cradle Grian's face in it, wracked with some sudden hesitance. Scar's palm stays just a hair's breadth away: the ghost of a touch. It drives Grian crazy, how the two of them keep pushing and pulling at all the wrong moments. 

Still, Scar doesn't stop looking at him, drinking in the sight of him like he's some sort of mirage. Like the night will sweep him away if Scar dares to even blink. Grian doesn't complain— thinks, actually, that maybe the comparison is more apt than he wants it to be. Instead, he loses himself in the miles of blue skies and flower beds that explode to color in the home of their prolonged eye contact. Truthfully, he's scared to look away too.

This is it, Grian knows as his heart roars in his chest. This is it.

“Say what you mean,” Scar breathes. 

They stand in the middle of the busiest section of the city but Scar's smile is private. It is Grian's, and Grian's alone. Say what he means? What is there to say? It’s written in the brief, rare silence of Grian’s mind; the swath of stars swirling overhead, infinite in their post apocalyptic glow; the solar-powered streetlight casting its fiery light over Scar, morphing him into something divine and untouchable. There is no word in his lexicon that truly encapsulates the feeling pressing against his ribs now. It isn't safety, or contentment, or peace. It isn't even love. 

He's sick of words. They don't mean anything. They aren't enough. He locks eyes with Scar and leans in, because if Scar isn't going to touch him, he'll just have to take matters into his own hands. Grian buries his fingers in Scar's button up shirt and shuffles him backward, until his back collides with the solid metal of the lamppost. If it hurts, Scar doesn't notice; he's looking at Grian with wide eyes, dumbstruck, lips parted in wonder and maybe something else. He's never been very good at taking what he dishes.

��What I mean is,” Grian murmurs against the buzz of the streetlight as his gaze flicks down to Scar's lips. His wings shift against his will, tucking around Scar, sheltering them from prying eyes. It’s only him and Scar. “You're an idiot if you don't kiss me in the next three seconds.”

For once, Scar’s tongue of gold is heavy and unmoving; he has no quick-witted words to throw in Grian's face. All he has is awe, and some self-imposed duty that has him deferring to Grian without question; he abandons his hesitance in the shadows of this too-public street. Finally, his clammy palm cradles Grian’s cheek, tattered and pitted like the worn leather of Grian's favorite jacket. 

The kiss, though, is soft and a little uncertain, at least until Grian yanks hard at the collar of Scar's shirt. When their noses clash under the urgent force of it, Scar chokes out a shocked laugh before he's responding in kind. And Grian thinks to himself that this is the first time the two of them have ever truly eclipsed, have ever found themselves in the lines of the same page, and he thinks he wants to live here. Forever, maybe, or for as long as the universe allows.

[yesidoodles]

Harvest Moon watercolor I made for a friend! It was for their birthday

[etinceelle]

Gris watercolor, with some digital light additions 🌟 It feels nice to get back to traditional, and also mix mediums and experiment with them