Comic Concepts by Lukahhhhhhhh
AND HERE WE ARE AT LAST
Here they are, my Doodle World Comic Characters uwu
NOW REMEMBER this is an open project, so feel free to contact me about joining and also feel free to draw anyone you’d like! And please show me, I’d love to see!
AND ALSO feel free to ask me about any of the characters, yes there are a few couples and relations here!
Comic Concepts by Lukahhhhhhhh
I rarely remember my dreams. When I do it is of a world drenched in the hazy smoke of a fire long dead; decimated by dry heat, and drowning in the evaporated tears of so many who are no more.
I dream a luciferous being as the inhabitant of this world and provider of all things to enlighten the sky. It is this being that allows me to see the rotted land around me.
This place is shadowed and wilted but never black. Black is for those who are truly dead, and no matter all the dying that surrounds me, I see no death. We are a world forever suspended in the agony of the last cusp of living.
I dream of a garden, twisted and dark, with wilted white flowers decorating it like pinpricks of starlight amongst an expanding sky. Other flowers hang haggard and lifeless along the pathway. The grass gives way to dirt, and when I look back I realize I can not remember how I came to be here. I know not what path I took, or from where I’ve come, and I haven’t the faintest clue as to where I’m going. I know only that I must indeed go. If I do not, the thorns will get me.
In this garden that holds the world I know there will be a house, and yet I’ve never seen it. There will be a house, and inside it someone will be waiting for me. I know that the one who lives in this house is important, and I decide this is where I will go, but I am not certain as to who it is, nor am I sure if I am welcome.
But I go.
The being who brings enlightenment is ever still with its back to me, as if it dare not turn blind from its view of the sky before it. Still I step closer, sure that it will know the way to the house, for I am so very lost.
This being has tattered wrappings about its head and shoulders; vertebrae jutting from the path of its spine before vanishing behind the draped cloak it wears. the tattered cloth hangs from its elbows as if it is eternally in a state of undressing, baring its bandaged body to the world; shedding as much of the faint light it provides as possible on this dim and dank setting.
This figure is mottled in shadows of harsh greys and dirty whites, as if painted by dust and ash, but there is no black. Black is saved for those who are no longer dying, but truly dead.
In its hand there is a knife for some horrendous purpose I dare not imagine. In the other is a leash. The end of the leash disappears into the bushes, hidden by the chaotic undergrowth of snarling leaves and stems, as if it has claimed the dark twisted existence around us, the putrid dream, as its pet.
The silence of this place is interrupted only by a steady thrumming that fills my head with the pulse of this world. If I try to listen too hard, it overwhelms me, but if I ignore it, it only echoes louder, as if trying to gain my attention. No matter, the dream moves forward and if I stand still, the thorns will get me, so I must continuously move.
The air tastes like humidity and ozone; like the stormy scent that pushes ahead of thunder clouds thick with a flood. But rain never breaks through the dark tangled branches above me, and the dirt beneath my feet is cracked and dry. Jagged lines cut the earth with a surgeon’s precision, stitched together with twisting thorns that beg the ground to stay whole.
But it can not.
I move forward, infinitely moving, and every step makes my feet bleed, but it is not blood that escapes me; it is ink, dark and fluid but never black. Black is saved for those who are truly dead.
The figure does not move as I approach it, merely stands to its purpose, watching the horizon as if it dare not turn to see me come. Perhaps it is watching for something. Perhaps it does not notice me, or perhaps it is ignoring my presence. It does not turn to see me, as if I am something not to be looked upon. I desperately hope it does not decide to look at me.
Long and twisted fingers wrap around its belongings like vines, prepared to choke out the light it provides from whomever it deems fit. It has no fingernails, but I am certain its grip would feel like the sharpest of claws.
It’s only when I step within reach that the figure then throws back its head, its gaze piercing my own.
It sees me.
I awaken with a start, breath coming in harsh pants, sweat cooling tacky on my skin as I look in the darkness of my room. I am surrounded by the purest black; my vision blotted out. Black is saved for those who are truly dead. With that in mind and fear in heart, I scream.
You can cut the picture off wherever you want, I just lengthened the picture down so you could see WHY the legs look like they do?
I also adjusted Slendy’s pose so it would correspond to her position, and the ground better, but feel free to ignore haha
I tried to make his body longer than it should be [by anatomical standards] and it felt hella weird to me haha, but it’s whatever. And you did very well on the suit so I didn’t bother redrawing that in the slightest;;;;
Anyways I hope this hopes even if it’s just a little bit??? And the best of luck to you on your journey to being the best artist you can be!!
Cuddly Lesbians Page Preview by Lukahhhhhhhh
So I’ve been working on a thing for Dirge, and this is about a third of it, I figured I’d give you guys a preview for now!
I have all the pre-sketched poses done, but the REAL sketches take time, so be patient with me uwu
Also I’ve kind of been drawing the skinnier people first because they get done faster [folds and curves take more time to do right]
But I swear there is some body-type variations, just bear with me.
"I love you"
As words tumble from trembling red lips, sanity begging from behind glistening windows, spattered with the heavy wash of the oncoming rain that will thunder through my heart and break me; I know.
"I love you"
As lies course out and heads shake, swishing back and fourth like a happy dogs tail, but this movement brings no happiness; this denial shows no joy.
"I need you"
Voice quaking with admission that is only true by the angriest sense. Heart racing, blood boiling, no freezing, I’m hot, no cold, it’s true, no wait, yes, no, yes, no, yes, I DON’T KNOW LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
But I do know.
No I don’t.
"I want to love you."
Honesty at it’s filthiest, like the taunting words of someone with more pride than you, more confidence than your own soul has EVER possessed, eyes sparkling with sarcastic mirth, smile cruel in it’s happiness.
"I want you"
And as quickly as the truth is there, it is buried amongst false words and hopeful sentences as tears turn to anger, as exasperation, exhausts even itself, as lies tingle along your skin like the bristling melodies of a lullaby meant to keep you awake.
"I hate you"
Body aching from the blow, but cleansed from the earnesty of something so pure as the angry obsession, that is hatred. Hate with it’s twisted ugly form that shapes into the most beautiful existence to ever detest.
For how could you ever hate anyone if you didn’t care about what they did? It’s sich and hurtful and disgusting, but it’s SOMETHING.
Sometimes it’s the only something I have.
I cry more than I used to, and I shake, more than I should.
"Please love me"
The last pleaded whisper as hands roam over wounded skin, and eyes glance away from gazes. But those hands belong to a fidgety mind that won’t settle for many things, and in my habbit of correction, in my need for cleanly peace, I reach over to the image of this pleader, and rub away the speck from the glass.
It’s not enough, I’ll be right back.
I’ll need a rag to wash the wept salt off of my mirror.
Corrections Guide by Lukahhhhhhhh
This is a quick little corrections guide to this picture here: http://kuroalis.deviantart.com/art/Sketch-12-02-14-460291324
Just adjusting the anatomy and also the skirt without messing with the style of this piece too much;;;
I hope you’re happy with it kuroalis, I tried not to mess with it too much!
Also I made the face really light because that’s the biggest style change, and I figured you might want to stick with your stuff uwu
Feel free to use this as much as you’d like to help guide this piece, but also feel free to ignore any parts you’d like to change, mix and match as you please.
Corrections by Lukahhhhhhhh
This is a redline of this picture http://whitefang4000.deviantart.com/art/Human-Redline-Help-Please-456715669 by whitefang4000
On the top version I just corrected the anatomy [and adjusted the girl’s pose a little] but on the bottom one I corrected the anatomy and adjusted the poses to things I saw as more fitting???
Feel free to ignore, it’s just a suggestion, but typically, girls fold their legs up when leaning on their hands, and guys don’t usually keep their legs together as they tend to take up p much as much space as possible when sitting.
I put the keys in her hand for the top one like you said you were going to do, but I put the keys on the seat by her legs in the bottom one because I liked what I’d done with the hands and didn’t want to change them ^^;
Anyways, I hope this is helpful!
Sitting poses tend to be difficult because there’s a lot of foreshortening, and that makes things kind of not look right even when they are haha
On that note, I’m really frustrated with the first girl because I KNOW it’s correct, I measured it out to double check, but god does it look weird
Persephone by Lukahhhhhhhh
I’m doing an Art Trade with animenipple for their character Persephone! She’s super cute omg, the ref I used is here http://animenipple.deviantart.com/art/Persephone-444831819
Their part of the trade is here http://animenipple.deviantart.com/art/Catalina-455296573
I finished it, sorry it took so long to post it, I was at Keith’s [my mom’s other house] and had no internet for a while. I hope you like it!
I think the biggest problem about feeling suicidal is you live your life in thirds.
Part of you yearn to ask for help. You want to kick and scream and cry for help, thrashing about like an unruly child until the lifeguard finally notices that you’re drowning and pulls you out. You want your voice to be a siren wailing in the night until your throat is raw; every scar on your skin to be flashing red lights, brighter than your crimson insides as you shed blood and tears in your agony. HELP ME you scream because your head is filled to the brim with a crowd of reasons to go, but you don’t want to, you want so desperately for someone to see that you hurt because you need surgeons and scalpels to remove this tumorous self hatred; you know this cancer that rots your heart and head could never really be removed, but you NEED someone to help you subdue it.
Part of you is ashamed at ever telling anyone. What right have you to put that kind of pressure on anyone? You need help, but you’re terrified of being the one who emotionally manipulates others into sticking around, and you know it wouldn’t be what you mean, but how else can you describe “Don’t go, I need you, without you I would kill myself” ? So you keep quiet, because no one you love could stand that pressure, and you could never live with that guilt.
But I think the hardest part is that part of you, the part that really keeps you from telling people, is that even though you want the help, even though you need them to know, once they do it would be harder to accomplish the task. And you may need help, but you NEED that option more. Because honestly, the knowledge that if life ever gets too far for you to handle, you could end it, you could die, is the only security you’ve ever known.
You may be afraid to die, because it’s so permanent, it’s so unknown, and so many stories have told you, you’ll burn. It’s true, you may be afraid to die, but you’re afraid to live too. You live so many moments in fear and pain and anger; your lungs, you head, your heart, they fight you, and the world feels like it resents you, and the only safe haven you’ve ever really known is the safety behind that fact- the safety in knowing you have the option to end it.
You don’t want to die, and a third of your EVERYTHING is determined to get the help you need, but when another third needs the comfort of having the choice, and the last third refuses to give the discomfort of the knowledge that THAT is your security….
Let’s face it: You’re never going to tell.