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spread

rhea daniel rhea daniel
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Sketchbook Spread 7

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CopperSunset CopperSunset
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Nothing But A Weak Spark

"The rumor that Elory Andara, the firstborn of her parents, a descendant of one of the most powerful magic wielders of the continent, didn't have the Gift spread quickly, but it wasn't entirely true. Elory did have magic, but it was weak, almost non-existent. No matter how many times she tried, no matter how much she struggled, she could cast nothing but a weak spark." --- An illustration for a personal project

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Rolf Schroeter Rolf Schroeter
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brush+ink+else

my tools for inking + spreading

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Leah Lucci Leah Lucci
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The Molting Man
1/2

The Molting Man first appeared on my Red Spread (see second image); I refined him for the green spread (first). This bizarre Icarus deserves some kind of short story about him. I'm not sure what the plot would be. It's probably tragic.

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Steve Tenebrini Steve Tenebrini
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Random spread

This spread was unfinished for over a year and I finally got around to completing it. Micron on Molskine sketch grade paper.

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Leah Lucci Leah Lucci
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You Must Become An Island
1/4

I love how typography, when selectively filled in, becomes a rhythm, a cadence, a song.

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 11

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 11

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 8

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 8

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 6

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 6

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 4

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 4

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Volta Voloshin-Smith Volta Voloshin-Smith
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Untitled

give me all the borsch :D sketchbook spread of my favorite soup

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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God

God lived on the hill above the rock-garden and there was a forbidden cart up there. At sunset he spread out like a mist over the house and the field. He could make himself quite small and creep in everywhere in order to see what one was doing and sometimes he was only a great big eye. Moreover he looked just like Grandfather. We raised our voices in the wilderness and were continually disobedient because God so likes to forgive sinners. God forbade us to gather manna under the laburnum tree but we did all the same. Then he sent worms up from the earth to eat up the manna. But we went on being disobedient and we still raised our voices. - Sculptor's Daughter by Tove Jansson #dailydrawing #tovejansson

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Embracing nightmares Embracing nightmares
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The skull of Deepwood

Up on a hill, deep in Deadwood Lies an old shack, that fosters no good Inside this shack floats a very old being To seek it out, is to regret such a meeting A blue floating skull, who brings sweet promises of doom Sits all alone in a dark four corner room Why is the reason, this being is there Why does it beckon one to come near Its lonely and bored So it calls out to you The skull was once mighty and powerful too Causing great pain on subjects like you The beast of an age Caught by a mage imprisoned in here no longer to torment the world and spread fear But just being caught wasn’t enough It stifled its power but its will, was left uncorrupt The skull, now a seeker of dreams Destroyer of love, life, and of schemes #embracingnightmares

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Sabina Hahn Sabina Hahn
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Mark Twain

Mark Twain (1835–1910) In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.” Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ― Mark Twain #dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey

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Marina Marina
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After Zero: Riddler x OC

Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic. After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001 "I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day." The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket. "But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit." "…" “Who am I?" The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands. "Love!" His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it. "To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"

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Robert Falagrady Robert Falagrady
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Bed spread friend

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WaterproofFade-Proof WaterproofFade-Proof
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Auren Portrait

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

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Shadowcat Shadowcat
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Lady Astarte

https://joyofsatan.org/www.angelfire.com/empire/serpentis666/Astaroth.html The ancestral Goddess of my ancestors the Canaanites and Phonecians. She has been well known to many ancient civilizations by many names and has been with humanity among Many other Gods since the dawn of humankind. Many disgusting lies have been spread about her as well as many other of our ancient Gods. The false christian holiday Easter in particular was a spin off of the actual pagan holiday Ostara or the spring equinox, and is antithetical to Lady Astarte in every way who symbolizes the ultimate feminine beauty, fertility, kindness and new life, where as the sacrifice of the fictitious christ figure is a symbol of a literal human sacrifice, something the bible is rife with. Learn the truth today and return to your origins. Our true Gods predate abrahamic filth by thousands of years. All the disgusting lies the bible tells about the pagan Gods are false. Exposingchristianity.com Kabbalahexposed.com

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André Luís André Luís
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Spread the love

I draw a dream I had. Title: "Spread the love" graphite e fine point pen over 150 g/m² paper. #arte #art #desenho #drawing #grafite #graphite #desenhocolorido #colordrawing #cor #color #finepointpen #canetapontafina #boatarde #goodevening #amor #love #espalheoamor #spreadthelove

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Camila Dominguez Camila Dominguez
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Girl with Butterfly

It’s one of my OC’s (her name is Annie, short for Anabella). She has heterochromia, meaning she has 2 colored eyes, and I tried to match the butterflies with the color of the eye on the opposite side. The angle is supposed to be from above, with her laying down, and her hair spread out.

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rhea daniel rhea daniel
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Sketchbook Spread 1

(Left) Charcoal drawing from photo ref. (Right) Copy of 'Self-Portrait as a Tahitian' in Sakura Gelly Roll pens on red paper. More about her https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amrita_Sher-Gil

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henry henry
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Gale and Katniss

This is my first upload. I did a quick sketch of Gale and Katniss from the Hunger Games,. I have been doing sketches of passages from books lately and this is one. This is the scene on the day of the reaping. Gale and she are in the woods. Gale is spreading goat cheese and she Katniss is picking berries.

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Leah Lucci Leah Lucci
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Lopsided Dogs, Frida, Bunnies, Hurdle Jumpers, Cacti
1/2

I drew scribbles with my left hand, then drew what I thought they might be on top. This spread has a weird, lopsided vibe that I kind of like.

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 21

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 21

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Emra Nation Emra Nation
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Spread the Curd

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 9

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 9

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 7

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 7

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Kyle Coughlin Kyle Coughlin
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Sketchbook (6) - Spread 3

Sketchbook (6) - Spread 3

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Leah Lucci Leah Lucci
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Sweating to the Oldies
1/2

I drew a sweaty kaiju on the Bullet Journal spread that had my workouts. The subsequent creatures are based on vintage Japanese toys.

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Leah Lucci Leah Lucci
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Free Tea Review

This sketchbook spread comes with a free tea review. (I'm also a Sororitea Sister. That's a real thing. Feel free to look it up.) My favorite feature is Edgar Allan Poe in the lower right, though.

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