It took me a year to draw this but it’s finally done! One of my most favorite scenes from the Nightmare Before Christmas au @sylwritesstuff and I wrote last year
Obi-Wan Kenobi is running away–or returning, in his own mind–to the beautiful but haunted shoreline of St. Augustine, Florida, famed as the Most Haunted City in America. Obi-Wan isn’t looking for ghosts, but we all have things the things that haunt us and sometimes second chances come in the way we least expect…
“The last thing Hanzo remembers is the warmth, the hum, and the massive presence of the dragons hovering over his shoulders.”
Piece 2 of 2 for the fic Ronin and the Namelessby@icecreambeach. Both pieces come from Chapter 8 which was just such a lovely ride the whole chapter. This piece is one that challenged me, but is one that I’m ultimately happy with in how it turned out! I definitely recommend this fic to those seeking a richly written Mchanzo experience!
“For the first time since these dreams started, Hanzo hears their wings. Soft, ethereal. Not like locusts. He’s never heard it before. He never knew it was there.”
I LOVE these! My favorite is the bottom one with Sean Patrick and Newts bad drift. The way Hermann is standing in the dark watching with only the light of the helmets is just so perfect and dramatic. I also agree on the song?? Its VERY appropriate and I’ve never heard it before. Thank you so So much @sunflowerdaemon!!
It’s so interesting that even years later I still get art and each artist is struck hard by a different part of the story. There is very little overlap!
this was in the works since the fic’s publication… so…since last month. this would’ve been done much faster if not for my weird travel circumstances and complications after to boot. but it’s finished!! holy crap!!!
elien is incredible!!! they were always trying to match my style even though their art is already so amazing. please check them out! if you don’t have a twitter get a twitter to follow them LOL. you can also read on in the PDF for how we collaborated on this project ;)))
and of course read the original fic as well, it kidnapped our brains for a month, what more can you ask
As of this posting, @andstillthestars’s fic is complete!! I’m trying not to ramble so I’ll just say: I don’t normally take commissions, but if you read this fic, you’ll understand why I made an exception. Absolutely phenomenal story (I might have left an 800+ word comment delirious with joy as I caught up), and an utter delight of a request to work on.
1870: Dean Winchester, 20 years old, is saved while on a hunt by a young lady claiming to be an Angel of the Lord.
1875: In an attempt to be a good son, Dean follows John’s orders and proposes to Jo Harvelle. Jo accepts, but she knows Dean’s secret. Over the last five years, he has fallen in love with the mysterious angel who continues to come to his rescue. So she offers him a deal – 6 months to find his angel, and convince them to stay, and she lets him out of the engagement, scot free. If he fails, however, he’ll have to return home and marry her. Now if he just knew where to start….
i keep making guys in heroforge. i don’t know why. is this what ocd is???? i can’t stop????
anyway. i want to share these so that I can stop working on them. so that I can go “there. it is done. it has been put out into the world, and it is complete. stop adjusting tiny little things and do your fucking homework. or eat. or sleep. or shower.”
also, i am weirdly proud of them. but the point of me posting them is so that my brain will consider them “finished” and will stop adjusting every. little. thing.
99% of these are blorbos from my various shows. these are the ones I will be posting (in a series of posts so I don’t waste ALL of today), bc part of this obsession seems to be with getting things “right” - i.e. accurate to the source material. by solidifying one representation of them, and throwing it out into the internet, i’m filing them away under “vetted and approved.”
so please, please,please do not comment “oh you missed this actually :)” no matter how well meaning. keep it to yourself. I guarantee you, I have already thought of it and attempted to do a heroforge representation of it somehow. it’s a good system but it is limited. compliments are fine just. i can’t fix these. fix them yourself if you want but don’t tell me about it.
I’m going to do screenshots as well as links. heroforge is a free service and doesn’t have any ads or anything so it’s not gonna throw a bunch of popups at you. (you can buy heroforge pro but it just unlocks some extra stuff and early access).
For this one I’m going to start with just posting my good omens characters.
I’m sorry I haven’t painted in forever. Please accept this vidis!Kenma from @silvercistern amazing Bokuaka-centric fic Once More. Honestly do yourself a favor and read this, give kudos, leave a loving comment and READ IT AGAIN CAUSE PLEASE. IT’S SO GOOD.
As flattering as the words had first been, it quickly dawned on Kenma that Kuroo was also, in fact, rather smart himself. Smart enough that when he came over to stay the weekend for the first time, he’d first unpacked his volleyball from his overnight bag, suggesting they go down to the riverbank to play. He’d uttered not a peep about the volleyball DVDs he’d also brought until they were both completely sore, thoroughly bruised, and as grimy as boys their age were expected to be.
Only then, only during the walk home, did he (almost innocently) suggest that they could either play a game or watch the matches he’d brought after dinner.
He’s figured out that if we start with the DVDs, we’d never leave my room. Sneaky jerk.
Well, if there was a choice about it, then Kenma would insist on a game then. A game he knew he’d always win.
But even as he grimaced at the new bruises developing on his forearms (just a little more ‘internal bleeding’ he supposed), Kenma gave a respectful nod to Kuroo’s strategy. He wouldn’t be as interesting if he were an idiot. At home, they kicked off their shoes and might’ve run straight toward the kitchen if Kenma’s father hadn’t intercepted them and shoved them away to take a bath first. The whiff they caught from the kitchen smelled of fish—mackerel—which Kenma noted brought a glimmer to Kuroo’s eyes and an excited tremble to his bottom lip. There were some things he just couldn’t hide.
Although Kuroo was still a little shy and quiet around his parents and most other adults—probably trying to be polite—he now let fully loose when it was just the two of them. In the bath, Kuroo scrubbed his back for him and insisted that Kenma soak in the hot water for longer even though they were small enough to both fit.
“Your arms look way worse than mine!”
And then he chattered on and on with Kenma listening comfortably from his hot water cocoon until they were both pruney and Kenma’s father knocked on the door for them to stop dithering about and come out for dinner.
“If it weren’t for the noise, I might have thought you boys had drowned!”
His father teased them in a way Kenma suspected he’d wanted to do all Kenma’s life, if only he’d had friends earlier.
But now their household had Kuroo too. Kuroo, who wolfed down salted mackerel as if it were his last meal, who always packed his volleyball into his backpack no matter where he was going, who could get as rowdy as any eight-year-old boy when the adults weren’t looking, and who now jumped into his bed carefree when not even a month ago, he’d sat nervously on the floor instead barely saying a word.
“Ahh… dinner was so good! Your mom’s food is the best!”
Something in that sentence rang hollow in Kenma’s ear, and his mouth pulled into a thin line.
“Move over,” he said quietly as he crawled into his bed beside his friend. Reaching for the remote, he paused only a moment before he added, “You brought DVDs, right?”
It was just as well, Kenma thought as he settled to lie down on his stomach to watch. His forearms were so sore he’d have trouble holding his game controller anyway.
Kuroo popped one of three DVDs in—a women’s volleyball match this time—then sat cradling his volleyball in his lap beside Kenma. He might’ve complained—he knew exactly where that ball had been and it was filthy—but it had been cleaned.
Probably dad.
He gave silent thanks for that, because for Kuroo, that ball was as good as any stuffed animal or baby blanket. And about as effective too. Only an hour later, Kenma felt Kuroo’s body drooping sideways, his breathing slow and comfortable as he lay his head on Kenma’s back.
Meanwhile Kenma was transfixed on the game, and most especially on the setter’s every movement. Ever since Kuroo had suggested the idea, he’d taken a liking to it. And the setter on the screen was good. Really good. When he looked up her name, Takeshita Yoshie, it turned out that she was known as the World’s smallest and strongest setter, earning the “Best Setter” award seven times total throughout her career in various competitions, including twice at the Olympic Qualifier level.
You brought over a star setter for me to watch.
Which meant Kuroo was fixated on the idea of Kenma as a setter too. The first time he’d said it, Kenma couldn’t be sure how serious Kuroo had been. It could’ve so easily just been a passing whim, the shallow thoughts of an excited child.
But Kuroo rarely said things he didn’t mean, and Kenma reminded himself for the second time that day that Kuroo was smarter than he wanted to give him credit for.
Kenma stretched out his arms in front of him on the bed, mimicking the motions of a toss as he flexed his fingers as he fell asleep.
The next morning, Kenma found that his mom had come in to turn off the TV, provide extra pillows and blankets, and that she’d also left a mischievous note on his bookshelf that read: Thanks for the adorable photos!
He also realized that Kuroo was a pillow hog, and that he slept on his stomach like a weirdo, somehow avoiding suffocation despite the pillows squished against either side of his head. Kenma gave the blanket a harsh tug, which was enough to wake him, and a sleepy head of exceptionally spiky hair rose slowly from the pillows.
Oh… Kenma realized with a snort. His stupid hair is just bedhead.
Another beautiful commission of Lila and Lenù by Lady Turbalina. This one is inspired on a scene of the fic La hora del lobo, but it also serves as general compensation for all the bottled up feelings in season 3. ️
I’ve been drinking that hualian juice again, this time with the assistance of the amazing @curiosity-killed for the @mxtxbb! This is art no.1 I did for their gorgeous fic heart + bone!
Tobirama taking Izuna’s actions as an example of what is societly acceptable, and Izuna taking Tobirama copying him as proof that he is so normal is so funny! They both make me wanna
