This Is Absurd - Tumblr Posts
My ex art student-weird ass-sleep deprived-caffeine addicted-talented ass older sibling, everybody!
I said I would make art, and by god did I do just that (for once)
Here's a little armadillo friend!! I don't know why my mind was immediately set on armadillos when I was looking for something to sketch, but I do know better than to question - t h e m i n d - *insert ominous music*
Now that I think about it, it's probably because we just got armadillos in minecraft lmao
I think he turned out pretty cute! The paws were really fun to put on paper, lots of big, swoopy lines which I love :]
I'm trying to build up some more confidence when it comes to inking, so I forced myself to ignore my anxiety and actually picked up my fineliner for once, instead of just leaving it as a pencil sketch lol
It was really satisfying to see the scales start to pop out from the page, and adding all of the final details in white gel will always be the best part of any art-session (especially all the little hairs on this dude's shell, that was so gratifying) 😌👌
I'll definetly be turning to armadillos more often in the future when I'm looking for sketch material, these funky little guys have so many fun textures, and their cuteness-levels are through the roof TT^TT<3
With all that said, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day! ^-^
Yours truly, Stickbug 🪲
THIS
THIS RIGHT HERE??
THIS IS PURE SKILL, AND I JUST HAVE TO SHARE IT
What's Your Favorite Flower?
A little thing I wrote after considering what Eshra's answer would be. Takes place during the Bad Future™.
Rating: G
It’s such a minuscule thing, really, and in a normal world, a sane world, he never would have noticed it. Why would he? But the world isn’t normal, and it isn’t sane, and it hasn’t been for years, and so in this hellscape of shattered shades of gray all overlaid with a hellish red sky, the tiny splash of yellow catches his eye.
On feet as quiet as a cat’s paws, the yokai dips and darts across the torn up, rubble-strewn asphalt of… Bleecker Street, he thinks, near 11th, his dancer’s steps carrying him towards that incongruous dot of color. Every sense is in overdrive, like they have been since the invasion, but nothing trips his internal alarm, and he allows himself this brief moment of curiosity.
It’s a dandelion, he realizes after a frankly embarrassing number of seconds. Miraculously, the little yellow blossom is still clinging to life in this broken world, stubbornly reaching for the demonic sky and spreading its leaves to catch what little true sunlight might still filter through the red haze.
Eshra’s breath catches in his throat, an unexpected upsurge of emotion he has to swallow down hard, lest he risk making a noise and giving away his position. He reaches out almost without realizing it, his fingers stopping a hair’s breadth from the sunny petals. Somehow, even here, at the epicenter of the apocalypse, life endures. It persists, in spite of death, in spite of ruin, in spite of the krang.
The urge to protect the tiny flower, to uproot it and carry it somewhere safe, out of the reach of careless hound claws and crushing droid feet, is almost overwhelming. The fear of some mindless krang zombie shambling across this particular patch of broken concrete and heedlessly snuffing out this tiny spark of life has Eshra reaching for the dandelion again, for a moment intent on digging it up and spiriting it to safety. He nearly has his claws in the dirt before he stops himself, something that might be his conscience nipping at the edge of his mind. What right has he to impose his will on this precious, stubborn little thing? Why does he think he knows better? He draws his hand back, clutching it against his chest and instead simply taking a few cherished moments to just… look. Look and breathe and have just a minute’s worth of peace.
He goes back every day after that, each time terrified he won’t remember where the dandelion is, or worse, that something has happened to it while he’s been away. Each time, though, his fears are unfounded, and he finds his flower right where he left it, still as bright as the sun they can no longer see and still as insistent that it is going to live.
The day he spots a puff of white instead of the usual splash of yellow, Eshra’s heart jumps in his chest. Almost without care he hurries the last few dozen yards and crouches down next to the dandelion, which has turned from a sunburst blossom to a tiny cloud, and he's smiling a smile he’s forgotten he has. The yokai cups his hands around the seeded flower, a scrap of cloth in his fingers as a shield between the dandelion and the rest of the world. Then carefully, so very carefully, he blows on the puff, which shivers and quivers and at last releases its grip on its scores of minuscule seeds, allowing them to float safely into Eshra’s makeshift net.
After folding the cloth into a secure little sachet and tucking it into one of his supply pouches, Eshra finally lets himself touch his flower, a single delicate fingertip resting on the now bare seed head.
“Thank you,” he whispers, soft as the dandelion’s seeds, “for reminding me.”
I just found out that someone might have stole one of my Halloween pride flags
And when I say stole I don't mean used because I made them for that reason, no some stole the exact colors and made it a different flag
I posted these September 2018 and these are from July 2020 and the content the stolen one is for is not something I'd go and steal or even want to