Welp My 15 Minute Break Is Over...I Guess I'll Just Have To Finish These Sketches Later.

Base colors down! I’m so excited to see the outcome.

Bye bye baby blue

I wish you could see the wicked truth

Caught up in a rush, it's killing you

Screaming at the sun, you blow into

…

Yes

Just started drawing and apparently Bakugo was on my mind. Still practicing body image and hands but making steady progress!

Raph from ROTTMNT

“Anxiety happens when you think you have to figure out everything all at once. Breathe. You’re strong. You’ve got this. Take it day by day.”

— Karen Salmansohn.

Warfare

Chapter 1 Part 4

Part 1 | Part 5

First of all, it was so fun and wholesome drawing Raph and Mikey sleeping peacefully. I wonder when Donnie and Leo will get some sleep…? Looks like they are going through something.

Second of all…doing backgrounds are a beast of a challenge for me but I will push on and conquer them eventually!

Just some more doodles.

Just a messy warmup sketch that I ended up coloring. I couldn’t decide on a hairstyle ahah so I made three. I think the shorter hair looks better.

This is absolutely divine

The bookshelf was stacked with stories about ghosts, aliens, urban legends, mythical monsters, and other assorted horrors. We’d bought them shortly after we moved into the new house. The town we’d moved into had a second-hand bookshop, and that was the first place I hit with my grandpa, right the day we moved in.

“Have you found everything you’re looking for?” he asked every time I brought him a book to hold.

“No, just wait a little bit, I won’t be long,” I told him.

He just held the pile of books against his belly and hummed a song several decades old.

Grandpa never read books. At least, I’d never seen him read any. He did read newspapers, though. We had five newspapers showing up on our doorstep, printed in three different languages. Grandpa would read every story and every ad in the papers, often nodding and muttering a commentary to himself.

“Just to be clear, you can borrow these at any time” I said to him while the owner of the shop calculated the total.

He nodded a little distractedly. “Ice cream?” he asked in response. “I think there’s a parlour if you turn the corner down the street…”

That evening, I lined up each book on the shelf, spines out and ordered by theme. It was a more fun system of arrangement than just alphabetical or chronological. With the system I used, all I had to think was “I’m in the mood for a serial killer,” and then pick up the relevant tome.

Grandpa hadn’t seen my room, so I made it a point to drag him up there and look at my bookshelf. A full bookshelf is the most consummate adornment a room can aspire to.

“How is it?” I beamed at him, hoping he’d ask about the sorting.

“It looks like a laboratory of pure evil,” he said. “Like an innocent maiden could take one look at it and faint in terror.”

“You don’t think I’m an innocent maiden?” I asked with a coy smile.

He looked at me appraisingly. “You’re the most innocent of maidens, I think.”

I never really understood what he meant by that. It sounded like a joke, but then he wasn’t really one for jokes.

Every night, before going to sleep, I’d pick a book from the shelf and read a story or two to satisfy my cravings. It made for good dream fodder. I never had nightmares about those horrors—true nightmares don’t rely on comfortable tropes like that.

One night, Grandpa entered my room while I was reading a story out loud, complete with dramatised dialogue. He studied the bookshelf and I switched to reading quietly.

“You’re finally coming around to reading books, then?” I asked after finishing the paragraph I was reading.

“Yes,” he said and ran a hand over his balding head before stuffing it into a pocket again. “I think that after all this time of reading the newspapers, I would like to learn how the real world is.”