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Playing in The Snow Field

Here is a picture of Toothless I drew as gift for @chonaku-things as part of the christmas gift event, for the theme "Hiver Cozy". I had a lot of fun exploring with the digitial oil, tool!

Honestly, I just needed an excuse to draw Toothless like one of those foxes hunting in winter :3

My main model, for those who want to see the fox responsible for this picture :

Credit for the picture: DEBY DIXON

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Santa Lucia

Long ago in a faraway kindgom, there were white singing dragons pushing away the Darkness. For this, the white dragons were chained and placed along the border. As long as the dragons sang, the invading darkness was stopped. As long as the dragons sang, the kingdom was protected.  

The white dragons could not sing forever however. They whistled and whispered for hours, for days and night. They whistled and whispered until their voice broke and no sound escaped the broken throat. When that happened, the protection broke, and the Darkness entered— killing the failed singer.

This is the story of a small white dragon, raised to its mother’s songs amidst the clicking of her chains. Its mother sang and sang and sang; until the day she didn’t. Until the day the Darkness— and the creatures hidden in its midst— tore her throat away.

Confused and lost, the small dragon flew away. It flew beyond the kingdom full of chain, beyond the line of darkness. It flew until its wings had no strenght left to beat, and it crashed. The land beyond the darkness, it discovered, wss full of creatures similar to the ones that murdered its mother— dragons black as ink, eyes glinting crimson in the shadows. The black dragons, it painfully discovered, held no love for its kind.

The pure shine of its feather claimed it loudly as a singer, and so the dragon rolled itself into ashes until its fluff was more grey than white. It rolled in the dirt again for good measure, until its feathers were painted so dark no one could distinguish it from the local natural black.

Thus covered, the other dragons began to interact with more than beating and mean words. They welcomed it as one of theirs, unaware of its deception. That is, until one of them spotted a clump of white beneath its daily grim layer, and poured water over it to reveal its disguise.

Injured and betrayed, the small dragon flew away. Its body was too hurt to sustain it for very long however, and with a last flap it fell unconscious, crashing right at the doorstep of an isolated nest.

The nest belong to a powerful but excentric archdragon. Upon seeing the young, the black dragon took it in. The black dragon took no head of the color difference or the threat the young held, helping it hide the white fluff instead as it adopted the young as its own. Under its care, the white dragon learnt and grew.

As it grew, its power grew with it. More and more, the white dragon felt the temptation to sing, calling upon it its natural shield as it shone beyond the protecting ink covering its feather. It yearned to understand the place it had been borned to. It yearned to protect the land that hated its kind yet - through its mentor - cared for it until it had become the dragon it was today. No one knew what layed beyond the singers shield. No black dragon had ever crossed it.

So, when the opportunity arose, the white dragon said goodbye to its mentor and left for the border. Soon, it saw the soldiers of its country— black as ink, broadcasting defensive Darkness— and the slaves of their enemies— as white as the purest light, and singing, always.

Looking beyond the singers protection, the dragon saw a city. A dead city made of stone and bricks, devoid of the warmth of life. It was filled with small, bipedic creatures: men. As a singer, the dragon effortlessly passed the shield of its kind, investigating the curious buildings to its leasure. The ’men’ screamed and cried, too weak and small to bring it any harm. How had such creatures ever imprisoned its kind?

The answer was brought by ropes and chains, thrown accross its limbs and back until the dragon could barely move. It struggled and roared, but to no avail. It lost its war against the pulls of the binds. It was trapped.

The men led it to a pole, and tied it to its chains. The paint had rubbed off during the fight and its feathers appeared white again. It raised its head, and faced with an army of red eyes wanting nothing more than to tear its throat (an army made of its brethren), it found no other choice: it sang. It sang for its life.

With the song, its shield arrose. It was a weak, pitiful thing— a thin barrier against the cruelty that would inevitably avail. Each breath made it falter. Each silence made it flicker. And so the white dragon sang until its voice broke.  It sand as its throat began to hurt from the lack of water. It sang even as the air rubbed its lungs like sandpaper. It sang until sound refused to come out, and its shield failed.

The black dragons laying in wait wasted no time to jump on it, ready to finish it off. No bargain reached their ears. No begging stilled their claws. The white dragon readied itself and fought, teeth for teeth, despite the constraint of chains. Lacerations covered both it and is oponent skin. A metallic taste filled its mouth. Its whole body felt on fire, tensing, flinching, warping. It wasn’t enough. The black dragons were too many.

The white dragon was ready to give up when a dark shadow fell from the sky, roaring. Its mentor had arrived. Eccentric or not, under the full wrath of an archdragon, the army agreed to disperse. They gave them enough space for the young singer to take a staggering breath, and for the elder to free it. 

The chains fell, broken. The mentor pushed its youngling forward, rumbling soothing murmur, until it rose back on four paws, ready to fly. The two dragons left the kingdoms at war, not staying long enough to see the army’s next attack or the men mending of the border breach. The pair flew away from both cursed lands, and never looked back.

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Little gift for Saï-Lin, following the theme Coincé sous la neige (Trapped under the snow) of L’échange de Noël event, for the fandom Karneval.

Nai is cute no matter what. I had a lot of fun drawing him!! (I’ve always loved his creature form so much).

White background version:

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Solitude

Fanart cadeau pour @amethystsworld , suivant ses thèmes Dépression Saisonnière et Chaud/Froid de l’échange de Noël, pour le fandom de Merlin (BBC) !

C’était hyper satisfaisant de peindre ce paysage couleur de glace et de feu 🎶 Merlin qui marche seul vers l’horizon... est le poid du destin :3

Version légèrement différente pour les curieux :

(J’aime bien le côté ’passé présent future’ que donne les trois ombres en superposition, mais cela cache un peu le symbolisme)

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Nemo fanart for @ash--00 ’s amazing wingfic Trône de Chair et de Sang

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tumblr users all of a sudden: oh yeah this website is SO good for art hehehe it’s waaayyyy better than twitter it’s so supportive of artists we love art so much here uwu art for the win!! ✨ 😘 💕 😋✨ artists who have spent the last 4+ years on their hands and knees begging people to reblog their art just to be ignored every single time because half this website acts like their nuts will be ripped off with the claw end of a hammer if they reblog a single drawing:

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Art inspired by Flightless by @ravenite-void as part of the Vaderkin Creative Festival 2024 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

You can also find the art by @fancyfrey who inspired the fic in the first place here.

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Fanart for The Count of Monte-Cristo but with wings serie Les Aigles du Caucase (ao3 link embed), that @jenae-0 , @azzzryel , Nanaille and me ( @sinvulkt ) are writing.

You can find the one shot where Edmond grow wings on tumblr here, if interested. It’s in french though :3.

Here are the two models I used for drawings (bcs I still desperately need them xd).

I loved the ’Wanderer above the Sea of Fog’ vibes (which are probably a volontary choice from the photographer of this scene), so I chose that picture as my ref :3.

And Edmond has Cormoran wings bcs they dive underwater well and ca live on the coast.

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Surrender

Here is my (last) gift to @cinderfeather as part of the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024, organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod !!

In a ’Force sensitive have wings’ world, what happened to Vaderkin’s wings during mustafar is up to the guessing. This is probably my favorite piece of the lot!

Close up under the cut.

I hope you enjoy! 💓

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The Puppeteer

Here is my gift to MillionLights on ao3, as part of the Vaderkin creative exchange 2024 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

Vader and his master have a contentious relationship indeed~

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The Dark Wyrm

Here is my gift to MillionLights on ao3, as part of the Vaderkin creative exchange 2024 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

Once I’ve read your prompt, the picture wouldn’t leave my head, so here it is!

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Blob Vader get BOOPED

Here is yet another gift to @cinderfeather as part of the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024, organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod !!

I just love drawing silly blobs. And accidentally clicked on neon color while doing my shadowing. I loved the result so I kept it :3

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Anakin... or Vader?

Here is my gift to @cinderfeather (again!) as part of the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024, organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod !!

It’s one of my proudest ones! I, once again, just really really wanted to draw wings. Must be an obsession.

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The Restless Devorer.

Here is my gift to MillionLights on ao3, as part of the Vaderkin creative exchange 2024 organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod

I hope you like it!

Text under the cut.

The Restless Devorer

There is a hole in my chest.

There is a hole in my chest, and I can't fill it.

Could anything ever satiate it?

There is conflict in my mind.

There is conflict in my mind, and I can't track it.

Is there freedom from this anguish?

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"To Protect."

Here is my gift to @cinderfeather as part of the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024, organised by @vaderkin-is-a-lightning-rod !!

I just really, really wanted to draw wings. And Anakin’s determined look (inspired from Arcane, for those who got the ref :3).

This one doesn’t exactly answer the prompts, but I hope you’ll like it nevertheless, Cinder!

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Renard, the moon his lone companion