para este Séptimo y último día de esta semana sobre los personajes de comfort hoy le toca a segundo miembro del trío de las chicas superpoderosas amable y adorable conocida como burbuja (por comodidad decidí dibujarlo con su diseño del programa original), y espero que este reto semanal les haya gustado
YOU'RE MY DEADLY DEADLY NIGHTSHADE
OH ATROPA
BELLADONNA
THEY SAY YOU ARE
DEATH INCARNATE
AND I SHOULD STAY
FAR AWAY
- Blackbriar - Deadly Nightshade
I did a thingy for my mutual. Her name is Belladonna and she is DC OC. ;)
As I was drawing, I noticed how genius her design is. Her "villain" costume looks like the petals of a belladonna, her blonde hair and light skin like anthers (I belive that's how they called), her freckles like pollen. I don't know if it's inrentional, but it's amaizing!
I can't draw clothes yet
And hands
And everything
Spare me!
It's also my first time drawing flowers :D
A cheerful sun rises over a blue horizon with colorful rays spreading outwards, accompanied by the text "happy new day!" in playful lettering. a vibrant and optimistic piece of art.
para este cuarto día de esta semana de sobre los personajes de comfort hoy le toca a el famoso gato naranja flojo y amante de la lasaña conocido como Garfield
para este tercer día de esta semana de sobre los personajes de comfort hoy le toca a este adorable conejito que le encanta patinar y el helado se llama cuddles
A cute bonsai character with a fierce expression holds two swords, wearing an orange martial arts outfit and a headband with a red symbol. Its head is stylized as a bonsai tree, with vibrant green foliage, set against a dynamic red background and the words "BANZAI BONSAI!" above.
estoy de vuelta con los retos de semana y la temática de esta ocasión son los personajes de confort,
empezando con esta puercaespín llena de caspa que es algo cobarde y que se asusta con facilidad llamada flaky
A bonsai tree sits in a black pot against a bright yellow circular background with humorous text surrounding it. The words "Why aren't they called... Bonsai People?" suggest a playful twist on the terms little person, person with dwarfism or person of short stature.
a planet has continents that are concepts.
there are arrows indicating "immigration" and "emigration" between the continents.
the continents are concepts....
there is movement between "they/them" , "she/her", and "he/him". there is also movement between "black", "Hispanic", and "white". there is also movement between "Spain", "Mexico", and "Brazil".
gender is a concept.
race is a concept.
nationality is a concept.
I’m doing this for the April artists challenge because the theme was that “your OC April decides to radically change their hair- draw a comic of them doing it”YIPEEEEEE
A person in a relaxed posture sits in a bean bag chair, grasping a drink while surrounded by the phrase "It's an only exist kind of day." The color palette is cozy, with muted greens and reds creating an atmosphere of calm contentment.
A dense cluster of geometric buildings sits beside the phrase "Offline is the New Rich" highlighting a contrast between urban and online life, and simplicity. To the right, a small house stands alone surrounded by trees and clouds.
I know nothing of the actress of the same name (although I do need to watch The Spirit Of The Beehive someday), but the words alone had “drawing title” written all over them, so yeah!
I am an art teacher with a master’s degree—trained by brilliant professors who believed that art could do more than decorate walls. I offer safe spaces for teenagers to grow—nourishing soil where their imaginations can take root.
And yet… I am assigned to hallway duty.
This is compulsory education, after all.
So I sit—posted like a sentinel—watching young lives stream past.
“Get to class,” I say with a smile and a nudge.
The system wants attendance; I’m hungry for presence.
Armed not with a whistle or clipboard, but with a pen—
my scribble’s soft insurgency.
The hallway stretches out like a geometric hymn.
Columns and corners chant structure.
Teenagers swirl past—half-formed galaxies of limbs and laughter—
their orbits chaotic, their gravity pulling time forward.
I begin to draw.
Not their tardiness, but their motion.
A shoulder. A blur of sneakers.
A tilted head chasing freedom.
Feet flickering like seconds.
Each mark a pulse.
Each smudge a breath.
My paper becomes a seismograph of seeing—
trembling gently through the mundane.
This isn’t about making art for a frame or a feed.
It’s about refusing to leak away in the fluorescent hum of obligation.
It’s a quiet mutiny against the clock.
I do this on long car rides, too (passenger side, mind you).
Letting the lines grow wild, jagged, and unapologetic.
Not for polish—
but for presence.
This is how I remember I’m still alive.
Still growing.
Still watching.
Still choosing to see.
Because sometimes mental health looks like
a piece of scrap paper,
a moving pen,
and the simple, sacred act of
marking time with wonder.
