Finally fanarting my favorite
#wintersoldier #marvel #fanart #sketch #doops

Have some more gross doodles of cuties

Have a booty.

wheee I’m back in Savannahh, have more old doodlesss

Gloomybutt isn’t so gloomybutt nowww

Thus ends the tale of gloomybutt~

So that gloomybutt stopped being a gloomybutt because nice people and many animalpets.

Guess who isn’t such a gloomybutt anymore

Gloomybutt’s brobro (aka grumpybutt) listens to Enya always, don’t judge him or he will throw a cat at you.

Maybe I should start calling them by their real names……..

#doodles  #my art  #ocs  #hhfdjal  

Gloomy butt comforting his brothar by covering him in cute animals



Doin a writer/artist exercise with my awesome buddy, Lei.

Eager to see what she writes up for this because I have no idea what’s going on here 8D. :3

Maribel Costeau woke up to a horrifying sound she had never heard in her rich, privileged life: the sound of sirens wailing and curdling the blood of all who heard. The haunting rise and fall of the pitch caused a rush of panic to flow through her veins as she threw herself into a sitting position in her bed and stared wide-eyed and mouth agape at one of her windows. The drapes fluttered oddly peacefully in a vague breeze. But beyond the consistent cry of the sirens, Maribel could hear that the restfulness of the drapes was a lie to what was outside: the engines and turbines of ships high above her home.

What a night it had been prior. The city had been celebrating the first annual day of freedom from the rebels to the south. One couldn’t walk a single block of the city without seeing a lavish or lively party that either filtered from the buildings to the streets or shown such brightly colored lights inside that they lit up even the darkness of the outside darkness. Maribel had been so pleased with the ball she had attended in her very own home. All of her family and most of her friends attended, but such was expected when she was the prime minister’s marriageable daughter. Her father had introduced her to a few suitors, and she beamed the entire night as they complimented her lovely dress, hair, and eyes. She even got to dance with a few of them.

It was all gone. All the happiness, all the brightness in her face crumbled when she rushed to her balcony door and threw the silken drapes aside to look to the skies. Hundreds of invading rebel forces towered over her city, threatening to destroy everything she came to know and love.

“Father!” She shrieked and turned to flee her bedroom. Maribel picked up the hems of her long nightgown and ran out in to the hallway, where she ran quite forcefully into her personal servant.

“Miss Maribel! We must get you somewhere safe! Please, go back inside and change into something respectable!” The middle-aged woman begged her after grasping Maribel’s shoulders. Her pleading, stricken expression showed the wrinkles on her face more than ever.

“Where are my parents?!” Maribel shouted, stiffening in resistance as her servant pushed her back inside her room. She glanced over the woman’s shoulders and saw that the other servants were bustling around or fleeing the house entirely. She thought she heard one mention her parents.

“They are being prepared to leave as well. Now shoosh! A dress, milady! Quickly!”

Maribel could hear herself panting as she shakily changed into a proper but loose dress behind a divider. It was moments after her servant finished tying the final strings of her bodice that the first explosions hit followed by strong tremors beneath their feet. She screamed with such shrillness that she didn’t know she possessed and was swiftly tugged to her door.

“My dear!” It was her mother, who nearly flew through the door at her after her servant threw it open.

“Mother! What is happening?! Where’s father?!” Maribel cried back, entering a brief embrace with her mother before they were urged toward the staircase down. She nearly tripped on the way down when a series of explosions from farther in the city went off and stronger quakes challenged the strength of her balance at the moment. At the bottom of the stairs, her mother grabbed hold of her shoulders and looked her in the eyes.

“The rebels are attacking the capitol. Your father, he… needs to help the city organize and evacuate people, love. We are being taken somewhere safe,” the tired woman explained as calmly as she could manage, but the fear in her eyes was palpable. Her father was somewhere in the city in grave danger.

“But,” Maribel started, her lip trembling. Her mind raced for something to make the situation less traumatic, and she asked in a shaky voice, “W-will Robert be there? What about my friends?” She saw bodyguards coming to take them away and made a cry of protest.

They were guided at once to a large, armored vehicle waiting outside the circle drive of their mansion. Panic struck at her as she looked up to see more ships that could drop explosives right above them. Looking straight ahead, she saw massive plumes of smoke rising from where the bombings had successfully hit their targets in the downtown area. There was nowhere to escape except underground.

Inside the vehicle Maribel ignored the orders to strap herself in to her seat. She threw herself against her mother’s side like a little girl being taken to an audition she was terrified to do. If only her situation was as small and innocent a worry as that. She almost laughed when she realized that such a worry would have been reality for her until that morning.

They began to speed down the road, and Maribel realized they were headed away from the city. This meant two things: they were headed to safety, but they were headed farther away from her father. Still, when she gained the bravery to look out her mother’s window, she saw smaller ships flying in. Not just in, but down. The rebels were landing invading ground forces into the suburbs of the city to trap the people inside.

“Mom,” Maribel murmured, whimpering to her own surprise. Her voice sounded tearful, like sobs were bubbling up in her chest without her own knowledge.

“It’s going to be fine, dear…” Her mother responded, but her voice was hollow and unconvincing. She reached a hand up and pressed the side of Maribel’s face to her shoulder, and all Maribel could see was the buildings rush by outside the window.

She just wanted to go back to that night. She wanted to smile. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to dance with Robert. She wanted to see her friends.

Seconds passed. A mind-numbing roar of an explosion in their immediate location erupted, and suddenly the vehicle jerked brutally to the side. Maribel flew from her mother’s side to the other end of the vehicle violently. She might have screamed upon impact as the vehicle spun and collided with various things before coming to a skidding halt, she wasn’t sure. As she lay on the floor in shock, she knew only a few things: she could see her mother was unconscious, still strapped into her seat, bleeding heavily from a wound on her head, and she could hear the rough shouts of the enemy outside.

“Search it! He might be inside!”

He. Her father.

The doors were ripped from their hinges and she felt hands grab her viciously and yank her out into the smoky air of the street. Her limp body collided with the cement agonizingly. Two other men had found her mother and grabbed her as well.

“… His family?” She heard one ponder.


Maribel saw the barrel of a rifle over her face before the cold metal was pressed to her forehead. Moving felt impossible in her state of shock, but she tried to look at the face of her killer.

“Shouldn’t we keep them alive? They could be bargaining chips. A way to negotiate.”

A long pause followed. A tense pause that felt like an hour to Maribel who could do little more than lie there and await the judgment of the man above her.

“… We ain’t here to negotiate.”

This is turned out fantastical and worth the wait to see your interpretation of the drawing, ma’am :3

Old doodle of the gloomybutt and his twin brother with their silverhaired otherhalf/bestfriend.

Old doodle of an old friend

Old drawing I’ve been meaning to color for mooonths and finally got around to~

there was an issue with my first doodle
She hurt his shoulders D8

Watching leitakashi play Sims4 and was inspired by her babies who are my otp………..

Back to the old doodles of a gloomybutt