This Is So Good - Blog Posts
this is why everyone hates him
new official art... wahhh....
New Muriel update! And I’m not drawing fluff for once!
Wrote a little thing based on these tags:
'Nothing is ever mine.' - A frequent refrain.
Not the throne, not Rome, not the titles, not the jewels, not the glory, not even her love.
It had been his idea, after all, though he doesn't remember it, he was certain the idea came from him. Geta took credit for it, just like he did with most things. But it had been his, just like she should have been- or he should have been her's- no-
The sword was cool to the touch and the scent of the flower petals was sweet. It was hot, the Roman sun shining like the smile on her face when she looked at Geta; he didn't even get a smile-
A large hand clamped down on his golden cuff. Rage burned hot but quickly dissipated; the hand was too tan and worn to be Geta- Tegula, that was it-
"Caesar".
A deep voice in his ear, and suddenly his feet are stumbling as he catches his balance.
"It should be me"
This time, his own voice, and all that white hot rage and a black aching sadness fills him again and he finds himself lurching forward. The clang of the sword rings out as it slips from his grip and even Tegula's strength can't keep his free hand from swiping out, connecting with the rich fabric of his brother's robes. Yanking and pulling at the cloth, nails digging into the embroidery, he hears Geta's voice:
"Let go"
Geta is hissing in his ear and now there's another hand on him, pale and bejewelled. There's too much touch but not the right kind-
It's as if he's a spectator, watching the mirror of him, himself but something is off, not quite right- is that him? He's watching himself pulling away, straightening up and turning to Mummy- no, it can't be him, Mummy never-
"Caesar"
Tegula, again. He's back in himself, watching Geta smooth out his robes. But his own feet are kicking now, except it's no use, Tegula has him now and it's out of the room, into the airy hall and away.
He won't remember swinging the blade come morning, nor will he remember the angry tears he shed or the look of pity on Mummy's face. But he knows. He knows.
“Would you kill me, my love? If I betray you?” for the prompt thingy if it’s still open ^^ with any character you like ;)
Fyodor’s fingertips hover above the wooden chess piece— pawn. With absolute grace and consideration, amethyst eyes gaze back at you as he leans on the soft chair.
“My, my,” he rasps, head tilting to the side with his knuckles pushing against his cheek. “I have not foreseen such a question in the middle of a chess game.”
You laugh, toying with the chess piece in your delicate hand. For outsiders, the sound certainly resonates like a normal, amused laugh. However, for Fyodor’s ears, it is roses and silk; sultry with a drop of venom on its edge.
“Won’t you humor me, darling?” Your lashes flick gently, lips forming a smile. “Would you kill me if I betray you?”
Would— because you know that he can. Ending another person’s life does not keep him awake at night; it does not poison his conscience or the lack thereof. And yet the question repeats like a broken record, surrounding his head, consuming his thoughts the longer his eyes linger on yours.
Would he kill you?
Betrayal is the apex of imbecility, for both the traitor and the betrayed. Death is the only punishment for such a crime. If you were just another body in the throng, Fyodor wouldn’t even think twice.
However, you are not like many others. Not for the reason that you make everything you touch beautiful. It is the opposite. You cradle Fyodor with the heat of sin and devilry; you touch him with fire in your fingertips, burning all that is pretty to leave him with ashes and ruin. He takes you by the hand, allowing your claws to sink in and swallow him whole, because that’s all he needs, all he wants. To dance with the devil and be destroyed by you.
“Yes. I will kill you,” he finally says. “And then I will kill myself next.”
My ipad was broken so i have to do some tradi art
"Forever's a long time, bud."
Choice || Nexus/New Moon Animation Meme
CW: Flashing
forgot to post here
I may have accidentally ran late to get dressed for work to make this
this was the first thing i drew this year
AFK Journey blesses me with beautiful characters😌🙌🏻❤️
✨THE THIEF AND THE PROPHET ✨ CHAPTER 1: 【 SEVEN SWORDS OF THE HERMIT 】
「 Over a year and a half after the miracle had been restored, the village is humming with excitement in preparation for the union of Dolores Madrigal and Mariano Guzman. Now that the extended family is back in town, Pepa and Julieta make sure their brother is no longer the odd one out of the wedding plans. Although he is glad to be reunited with his family, Bruno still feels he needs to tread lightly in hopes not to disappoint. In a moment of quiet self-reflection, the chiming of a traveling jewelry merchant catches Bruno surprise... 」
CHAPTER 1 of my ENCANTO x ROAD TO EL DORADO crossover comic.
Thank you to EVERYONE who has been patiently waiting for this. I first saw this movie a little over a year ago during a busy and stressful time. As much as it pains me not to be able to dedicate as much time to personal projects anymore, it's a reminder of how fortunate I am to be working full-time in my dream career in animation.
I hope you stick around for the rest of the story. There is so much information in every panel. NOTHING is without meaning.
CHAPTER 2: We'll touch base with some of Bruno's nieces and nephews, hear from a few folks around town, and get a glimpse into Chel's home life and her history in The Encanto. Is this even the same Chel that we know from centuries ago?
Until then! ✨
Manolo had been different since his resurrection.
Maria didn’t notice it right away. The changes were so subtle, so small that one had to look closely to know they were there at all. But something was… off.
For instance, Manolo was colder now.
Not as cold as his corpse (his corpse) had been. But his skin definitely had a cooler quality to it now. His skin tone was still tan (not pale like he’d been lying still so still on his bed) and he was still warm.
Just not as warm as he was before.
Manolo would sing for them. For she and Joaquin both. He sang of love, friendship, apology, forgiveness, and more. His voice was beautiful, his music was beautiful.
But sometimes his music was off.
The tune, starting out so melodious, would turn darker, more ominous. The notes turned sour and twisted, and Manolo seemed not to notice. Carrying on as though his song was not beginning to frighten them. He would open his eyes and see their scared faces. He would stop and ask if they were alright. And Maria and Joaquin would share a look. They would not tell him.
Sometimes Joaquin could swear Manolo’s eyes glowed. If it was really dark or Manolo was displeased he would see a flash of yellow.
At first he told himself he was imagining it. His relief at having his best friend back (alive) was so great he was seeing things.
But then he kept seeing it.
An eerie yellow glow emitting from Manolo’s eyes for a brief second. The warm brown completely enveloped by the unearthly light. Maria saw it too, he knew she did. And that wasn’t all.
Sometimes during a storm, lightning would flash and for a brief instance the warm, alive musician was replaced with the skeleton. When walking down the street with his two friends he would see someone look at Manolo and do a double take, looking terrified. So it wasn’t just him.
He supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised. Manolo had been dead (no matter how Joaquin had pleaded with him to wake up wake up please I’m sorry). There had to have been some side effects, some lingering results of death.
Manolo used to love animals. He would pet every dog, cat, chicken, every creature that crossed his path. But he was beginning to rethink his opinions.
Animals hated him now. They refused to come near him and growled and hissed whenever he came close. Chuy would skirt around him, try to tug Maria away from him. Even the bulls in their pens would snort and back away.
After his got his life back, his two amigos would not let him out of their sight (we’re not losing you ever again). But they’d sometimes recoil slightly at his touch. Or refuse to look him in the eyes. The people of San Angel would often look warily at him. Some would turn to smile at him but start in terror, before peering closer at him, confused. He wondered what they saw.
He would sometimes catch Maria and Joaquin looking at him with strange, unreadable expressions on their faces. A hint of apprehension or outright fear.
“What’s wrong?” He would ask them.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost”
feliz cumpleaños a mis bebés preciosos WAAA
los amo mucho, you don't have any idea. they're my emotional support and i'm so happy
here are some tests I did on sun's rays
15 march 1891 - The Ides of March
HAPPY 125th ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR PARTNERSHIP !!!
an old wip from last year that i really should revisit :'}
Roxas' Valor Form in Halloween Town is SOOO DAMN GOOD i can't even describe how much i love it
Roxas mod 🥀
THIS IS AWESOME RAHHH
ANIMATION TEST WOOHOOO!!1!1!1 i am so proud of this one like actually. so good
Look at that masterpiece, please.
My huge Good Omens poster artwork, inspired by Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here album cover.
A big thanks to Snap Happy Ian for these most excellent photos. This Revolver Ocelot costume was mostly assembled from pieces found at op-shops and military swap meets. I added the capelet to the jacket about a year ago, and dyed the bandolier and styled the wig the night before the expo. I wear a lot of these items as part of my everyday wardrobe, with the intention of minimising the waste and excess that cosplay often entails.
