#it brought me SUCH joy to work on this
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Commission for @write-kin
Thank you very much for commissioning me!!!!!
COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN! Feel free to take a look if you'd like!
#oc#art#commissions#tokimeki art#Sunshine#THE SUNNED SHINE.......#I love them sosososo much pumpkin#let me get my grubby paws on your OCs I promise nothing bad will happen to them#it brought me SUCH joy to work on this#Thank you so much for commissioning me pumpkin it really does mean the world to me ;v;
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in spite of everything, I had fun <3
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk fanart#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk leaks#yuji itadori#fushiguro megumi#nobara kugisaki#itafushikugi#jjk 271#well we made it :'>#im kind of ignoring a lot of the tag rn ghsdff ik people are upset#if u follow me u know th full extent of my thoughts on the wrapping up of the series but tl;dr the caption says it all#this series meant a lot to me and im working on a bigger tribute to fully express that love and gratitude#but take a redraw 2 tide u over for now#im just so happy. its bittersweet but those r my kids n theyre tgt and theyre okay#i think the return to normalcy is good fr them. i say let them rest n b together n process everything in time#/i'm/ satisfied with what i got out of jjk as a whole and that's all that matters to me#however ik that not everyone shares tht sentiment n thats valid!#regardless of how u feel abt the finale i hope that u at least take time to remember things abt the series that brought u joy#thats all i can say#oh yeah anyway i lightened up megumi's expression his face is so funny in that panel i can't believe he really said -_- until the very end#still tho i think megu deserves a content lil smile
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A cutie-patootie on the Marie Claire set 😖🩷
#shinee#onew#jinki#lee jinki#shinee onew#kpop#analook#dailyshinee#smsource#maleidolsnet#dailybg#shineenet#speakofgifs#marie claire korea#the marie claire korea behind video on Onew's channel#been a long time since i made any gifs haha wow. sweet onew brought me back lol i saw him being cute and i couldn't resist#he really seems like such a joy to work with. always lovely and polite <3
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A small selection of the Gokus I've drawn
Rest in peace Akira Toriyama.
#devisive as a person but an absolute titan for his creative works#what he had wasn't just some gift it was a ridiculous amount of skill#and either way i can't deny the joy those works brought me
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I would never delete my fics
I got linked to a reddit thread today where people were being advised to download my mortifying ordeals/Buddie fics, since apparently "now that I'm a BuckTommy shipper", I might be "petty" and delete all my Buddie fics.
So. I'll move past the complicated feelings it gives me to have people hoarding my fics while actively shitting on me as a person (and seemingly not even telling me that they enjoyed my work, although in fairness that could just be a difference in usernames.) That's the nature of fanfic, fandom, and putting things out there on the internet and I accept that.
But I do want to reassure people that I would never delete my fics. I still have the cringy-as-fuck Harry Potter fics I wrote in high school up; believe me those would be first on the chopping block if I was inclined to delete my work. And all of my 9-1-1 fics hold a special place in my heart, but none more than the mortifying ordeals series, which consumed basically a full year of my life and reminded me why I love writing. Hell, I got engaged while writing the final chapters of I once was lost. That fic is indelibly tied to my life now.
And look... I don't think it really matters, nor should I have to explain and justify what I do and don't enjoy about a show or fandom, but this whole experience has upset me more than it probably should have and I can't help but want to get it off my chest anyway.
My favourite thing about this show is the found family feels. I either love or am at least intrigued by every single character that has appeared. You'll notice that family is the central theme of every story I write, whether the story is Gen, Buddie, or BuckTommy.
Because yes, the idea of BuckTommy and how that plays into the family themes of the show has intrigued me and captured my muse.
I've also said before that I didn't think Season 7 left Buddie in a great place in terms of romantic relationship potential - in my opinion, the ghost of Shannon would be an absolutely massive barrier to them getting together right now. The post season 7 Buddie fics have also heavily featured character bashing, which isn't something I generally enjoy seeing, and infidelity, which I really don't like seeing romanticised especially since I've had a partner cheat on me.
So yes, I've distanced myself from the post-S7 Buddie fandom because I just don't enjoy the pervasive negativity I've seen and the way that cheating and violence is suddenly celebrated by a significant subset of the fandom.
That does not mean I've given up on Buddie altogether. I still have a whole list of pre-S7 buddie fics in my to-be-read list that I've been making my way through and 2 out of my 5 WIPs are Buddie fics (both in the mortifying ordeals 'verse, just to make it even clearer that I'm not at all interested in deleting that series.)
But two of those 5 are BuckTommy, because as I said above, their relationship was intriguing to me and it captured my muse.
I don't think those opinions make me some kind of betrayer, or that they inherently make me a "petty" person but I guess I just didn't realise that not-exclusively-shipping-Buddie was such a High Crime in this fandom.
#9-1-1#fandom discourse#writing#buddie#bucktommy#this is my first experience being this heavily embroiled in fandom drama#i cant say i like it#that thread legitimately made me so sad to read#i was so excited to work on the Daniel ghost fic and maybe start posting this weekend#and now i just feel so fucking flat#maybe ill delete this#or at least part of it because i do want people that they dont need to worry about losing my fics#im so immensely grateful to my readers I would never want to take away something that brought them joy#even if they apparently think im a terrible person#this got rambly#sorry
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I have no words.
#RIP#I'm about to cry#chad mcqueen#dutch karate kid#Wtf#Thank you for everything Chad😭 I will continue to enjoy all your work#Will continue to inspire me#Genuinely brought me a lot of joy#I'm gonna have to process this
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In Memory Of Akira Toriyama (1955 - 2024)
(Cerberus, Chaos DC)
#my screenshots#Akira Toriyama#Dragon Ball Z was my gateaway into anime and manga#it came into my life when I most needed distraction and escapism#my teenage years would have been very different if not for him#i cannot be thankful enough for the joy his work brought me
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I know there's a lot of canon cats but I'd love to see you draw a Kit that's a child of one of your personal favourite ships.
The way this ask made me scream (positive) and now I've thought about these kiddos sm. We are not going to think of logistics, yous get jaykestrel kits now ✨
More info under the cut:
Briarkit is obvi named after Briarlight because I do what I want, Moonkit is really loosely named after Leafpool, and Pigeonkit got his name cause Kestrelflight thought it'd be funny to give at least one of em a bird name
Moonkit has extremely similar stripes to Leafpool which is why she got the name link. Moon comes from how Leafpool was the one to find the Moonpool
May have noticed by now but all the firefam have one odd-coloured paw; can't see it here but Moonkit's back left is the same colour as her stripes
All three have their parents big ears when they get older lmao they got the Windclan Build 😭
Briarkit is an absolute fluffball like Lionblaze. She's also the embodiment of chaos
Pigeonkit is the runt of the litter and v antsy, preferring to watch and listen than have any attention paid to him
Moonkit is often lost in her thoughts but is v friendly when spoken to
For warrior names Pigeonkit will become Pigeonflight after both Kestrelflight and Squirrelflight. Still debating names for his sisters, some options include Moonpelt, Moonheart, Moonflame, Briarleap, & Briarblaze ✨
The parents for design reference:
#ask#art#warrior cats#jaykestrel#<- tagging so people who have the tag blocked don't need to see ;^^#fankits#these brought me great joy ngl LOL#literally sketched em in work
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Everytime i scroll through my HC masterlist i Hang my head in shame cuz there’s no way I spent that much time making that many posts about A CREEPYPASTA AU (I so badly i want to be making that many posts everyday again)
#chatterbox#creeped is like . home to me .#like curling up in bed during the middle of winter with a hot drink and clacking away at my keyboard giggling#cuz I resparked a childhood interest that brought me so much joy and comfort when times were Rough#and it feels nice to take a break from reality and school and work and adult responsibilities or whatevs#cuz it can be overwhelming . but you know what’s not overwhelming#a little cutesy fictional creepypasta universe that I’m in control of yet have no deadlines or expectations or rules with
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Has this been done yet
#I swear Im working on pride drawings but I needed to get this out of my system#the joy this brought me is immeasurable /pos#If somebody did this already sorry but I did it better /j#tbh creature#autism creature#the hollow#the hollow netflix#adam the hollow#kai the hollow#mira the hollow#reeve the hollow#skeet the hollow#vanessa the hollow
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this truly was our ochako academia
#my hero academia#mha#uraraka ochako#ochako uraraka#mha 430#bnha#.png#genuinely so grateful for her character! shes brought me sm joy these last 6 years#the peonies .. she is prosperous she is compassionate she is humble and she IS MY GOATT#peonies ochako and me .. you could call us triplets !!#also what prompted this sketch was me reading haikus abt peonies#and there’s this lovely one basho wrote about a bee emerging from the center of one#which made me think of ocha bc bees represent industry and hard work#but i think my fave is this one by hakuo where he just compares a peony to a women with meat on her bones 😭 real shit#my return to mha has been swift and complete. no more weekly lurking for me i am back in the trenches and happier than ever !!!
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#trans#transgender#trans joy#vulture chatter#brought to you by the cool trans girl i met at work who came in the next day and gave me her number
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She loves a silly little hat <3
#wetsuit one probably not really a hat but work with me#this brought me great joy#shame we never really got silly hat plus space hoodie combo#vel sartha#andor#my posts
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maybe its bc im a writer who has had WIPs languish due to real life but it pisses me off when people make posts along the lines of "accidentally started reading a fic and its not finished 😡" like its some great inconvenience ....well some of us have depression so maybe fuck off 🙄
#writers dont owe u shit!!! like !! go write ur own fic ir ur going to be such an asshole#personally i never shy away from unfinished fics i feel a kindred spirit with the people who write them#maybe their inspo for the fandom died - maybe life got in the way - maybe they quit writing altogether#i treat every piece of published work as a labor of love bc that's exactly what they are#and ill never ever feel entitled for the writer to finish their fic. ill love whatever they have to offer and itll bring me the joy#*that i know it brought them to write it#rant over i just saw a tweet and it pissed me off lmaooo#bs.txt
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Northern Lights
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I heard a voice that cried, “Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!”
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Who knows what to call the lonely exhilaration of gazing out into a bright Northern sky? Who can name it?
Jill could.
It was the same feeling that came to her at the teetering edge of a cliff at the end of the world. The same feeling as when she said her goodbyes to Puddleglum and Scrubb before they freed the prince. It was the same feeling that engulfed her now, sitting in the professor’s library with a volume of poetry before her.
.
The wild northern wastes were well named: utterly wild, perfectly desolate, and terribly Northern.
It was lonely there and often cold, but the sky was an endless whorl of gales and gray clouds. The stones were indigo under the pale winter sunlight, and at sunset they glowed a soft gold, as though lit from within. The gorges and moors lay before her, and Jill loved them for their vastness and their distance. Little grew in that country, but that which did was full of vigor. The grass was short and coarse. Every tree was victorious.
On a still, deep breathing winter night, Jill lay on her back beneath a covering sky. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it until her tears began to blind her. Yet even then, she still couldn’t look away.
She felt bigger here in the wastes, like the landscape. Stronger, wider. The further she walked, the more she felt herself stretch out. One of these days, maybe, she would catch hold of herself at the edge and tug, and Jill Pole would open up clear as the Northern sky.
.
And through the misty air passed the mournful cry of sunward sailing cranes.
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The thing that surprised Jill most about the battle with the serpent was this: there wasn’t any yelling. Always, it seemed, whenever she read stories about people fighting with swords, the combatants would let loose some guttural yell before their blows fell. They would scream and writhe in pain as they died. They would shout instructions to their fellows, “Look out!” or “Hit him there!” But the whole affair with the serpent passed with very little noise.
The poison-green coil constricted around the prince; he raised his arms and got clear, struck the serpent hard, and then Scrubb and Puddleglum dispatched the creature with heavy, hacking blows. The monster died writhing, but not screaming. And then it was over.
The thing that surprised Jill most about the moments before battle was, of course, the noise. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t stop listening to her own breathing. Every footstep rang out like a gong, and any words exchanged rang with a kind of finality that made them sound louder than anything.
“You are of high courage,” Rilian told her when it was over.
Yet the thing in Jill’s chest just then didn’t feel like courage. It was a deep breath, a plunge, and a release. It was loud and quiet all at once, till she was standing, blinking in the night air as snowballs whizzed round her, and maybe that was something like courage after all.
.
And now, there was a stirring in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Sing no more / O ye bards of the North / Of Vikings and of Jarls! / Of the days of the Eld / preserve the freedom only / nor the deeds of blood!
She thought of grief. Of freedom.
The lonely ache in her belly grew stronger. She felt herself uplifted into the huge regions of sky that were just beyond those cliffs, weightless as the breath beneath her buoyed her up, further, further…
.
When she saw Caspian up close, Jill thought that he looked like the sort of person who was meant to live in a castle. A silly thought, perhaps, since she knew he was a king– only she wasn’t thinking of Cair Paravel. No, Jill was picturing the ruins of an old British castle she’d visited once on holiday. She still remembered how the stonework had loomed over her, all towering arches and crumbling walls. That was where Caspian seemed to belong. He had an air of ancient tragedy about him.
When Rilian disappeared, all things had wept but one. The serpent coiled beneath the earth and flicked its forked tongue, spewing poison.
Now, the king half rose to bless his son. He whispered a few words as he caressed Rilian’s cheek, words meant only for those beloved ears. Jill saw Caspian’s lips move and wondered what a man like that could possibly say, when time ran so short.
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They laid him in his ship, with horse and harness, as on a funeral pyre. Odin placed a ring upon his finger, and whispered in his ear.
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Jill furtively took Myths of the Northmen and held it up to the professor with a question in her eyes. She was still shy around him and Miss Plummer, though she wished she wasn’t.
“Would you like to take that with you?”
“...Please.”
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It takes a certain kind of person to be exhilarated by the heights. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
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They walked to the train station with an autumn wind blowing hard, and though Jill couldn’t fathom why, she turned and saw Lucy grinning, fierce and joyful– grinning and reaching a hand out towards her friend.
Jill reached back and grabbed it. “What will you do, once we’re back in Narnia?” she asked.
The wind blew harder. The feeling of anticipation grew and grew, until it felt so big that she couldn’t dream of containing it. And there was Lucy, holding Jill’s hand and laughing like it was easy.
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Preserve the freedom only, not the deeds of blood!
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The second time Jill went to Narnia, she found herself not at its edge, but at its end.
The thing about the Norse apocalypse is: it feels believable. It doesn’t reach beyond earth’s horizon to pull down hope beyond hope. It’s only the kind of courage that hopeless humans have: you are going to die, so you might as well die bravely.
They found the last king of Narnia bound to a tree. His eyes were faintly red from crying, and his wrists and ankles red from the coarseness of his fetters.
In the Norse myths, Loki broke free of his fetters at the end of the world. He escaped to the helm of a ship made from the fingernails of the dead.
The last king of Narnia fell forward onto the ground when Eustace cut his bonds. Jill crouched down beside him and watched as he rubbed feeling back into his legs. He wasn’t so much older than her, she thought. Jill was sixteen years old; the last king of Narnia could not be older than twenty-two.
In the myths, the gods were ancient, hewn from the bodies of giants old as the earth.
Jill put out a hand and helped the last king of Narnia to his feet. Not for the last time, she shivered. Something deep inside her (deeper than her chest, than her heart, than the marrow of her bones, deep as her soul, deeper) was singing an elegy and she didn’t know why, or how, or where it had come from. The king clutching her hand, who could have been her older brother, would have no heir.
Yet when he asked, “Will you come with me?” Jill could only smile.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s you we’ve come to help.”
.
And the voice forever cried, "Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!"
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“This really is Narnia at last,” murmured Jill. The springtime wood had little in common with the wintry lands she had traveled the last time she was here– but it awakened the same feelings of Northernness in her chest.
Their party may as well have been the only people in the world, for how isolated their little wooden path seemed. Yet it wasn’t lonely, really, cocooned in all that green with the wind in the leaves and the primroses nodding and blue of the sky peeking through above.
Jewel told stories about what ordinary life was like when there was peace here. As he spoke, Jill could almost hear the trees' voices speaking out of the living past, whispering, stay, stay. She was caught up to a great height, looking down across a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance.
“Oh Jewel–” Jill said with a dreamy sigh, “wouldn’t it be lovely if Narnia just went on and on– like what you say it has been?”
She needn’t be a queen, as Susan and Lucy had been, but Jill would’ve liked to stay. She would've liked it all to stay, if it could. She might have been a woodmaid in a place like this: with the turn of the seasons, the swaying trees, swords into plowshares. Oh, if only she could stay!
Ahead, the last king of Narnia was softly singing a marching song. Jill tilted her head back and let warm shafts of sun caress her face.
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I saw the pallid corpse of the dead sun borne through the Northern sky.
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“So,” said the last king of Narnia, “Narnia is no more.”
He tried to send them back. Jill shook her head. It was very loud and very quiet. “No, no, no, we won’t. I don’t care what you say. We’re going to stick by you whatever happens, aren’t we Eustace?”
They couldn’t go back anyway. Neither would they flee, not south across the mountains nor North into the great wide wastes. No, they would stay. They slept in a holly grove on the edge of ruin, waiting for the bonfires to light.
Jill slept fitfully, but in between she dreamed. She was high up in the air, buffeted by clouds and pierced by shafts of silver sunlight.
.
They all died, in the myths. Jill knew that. It seemed beautiful and brave when she read it in her book, tucked away safe in the Professor’s library. It was terrifying now– and yet it was beautiful and brave still.
The dogs came bounding up, every one of them, running up to the king and his men with their tails wagging. One of them leapt at Jill and licked her face, tongue roughly lapping up the sweat and tears that had dried on her cheeks.
“Show us how to help, show us how, how, how!” the dogs were barking, almost ebullient in their enthusiasm. Jill bit back a sob. How lovely, she thought. How terribly beautiful. How dreadfully brave.
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So perish the old Gods!
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The white rock gleamed like a moon in the darkness when Jill finally reached it. She ran back to it alone, her hands shaking, while her friends stayed forward with their gleaming swords and Jewel’s indigo horn.
The while rock gleamed like the moon. Jill’s first shot flew wide and landed in the soft grass. But she had another arrow on her string the next instant. It was speed that mattered, not aim. Speed, and turning aside when she cried, so as not to drip tears on her bowstring.
The white rock gleamed. In the myths, a wolf devoured the moon. Peter’s wolf, slain many thousand years ago in this world, opened his jaw wide and darkness fell over everything.
Her next arrow found its mark. After that, she lost track. She pulled, and she prayed that her hands kept still another minute.
The unique thing–maybe the appealing thing–about the Norse myths, was that they told men to serve gods who were admittedly fighting with their backs to the wall and would certainly be defeated in the end. Jill let loose another arrow, felt the white rock at her back, and she knew that the clawing fear–beauty–bravery deep in her gut was the same feeling that she felt on the heights. The same feeling, but a different face. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
.
“I feel in my bones,” said Poggin, “that we shall all, one by one, pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths that I would rather have died.”
“It is indeed a grim door,” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.”
“Oh, can’t we do anything to stop it,” said Jill. Better to be dashed to the ground than it was to be devoured.
“Nay, fair friend,” said Jewel. “It may be for us the door to Aslan’s country and we sup at his table tonight.”
A hand tangled itself in her hair and started to pull. Jill braced herself hard, for a moment, until her strength gave out. She was standing on the edge of a high, Northern cliff. She took another step, and fell.
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Perhaps when the moment comes, our bite will prove better than our howls. If not, we shall have to confess that two millennia of Christianity have not yet brought us to the level of the Stoics and Vikings. For the worst (according to the flesh) that a Christian need face is to die in Christ and rise in Christ; some were content to die, and not to rise, with Father Odin.
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The world inside the stable was beautiful. It made Jill’s chest ache in all the loveliest ways.
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Build it again, O ye bards, fairer than before!
#okayyyy so#i've been down the tolkien/lewis/norse mythology rabbit hole lately#it's a lot#but i've been picking at this piece in my head for a while now#which is more a rhapsody than anything else#but another for my narnia/classic lit sequence of pieces#the quotes are mostly pulled from Longfellow's Tegners Drapa translation#which Jack discusses in Surprised by Joy as one of the works that inspired feelings of joy and 'Northernness' in his boyhood#there's also a Weight of Glory quote in there#(paraphrased)#and one from the intro to Joy Gresham's book on the 10 Commandments that Jack wrote#(that's that last passage in italics)#i'm not really sure i was trying to make a point with this so much as just. explore that feeling of northernness#bc really northernness is two things#it's joy and exhileration brought on by beauty#and it's that beautiful hopeless courage when faced with unwinnable battles#and i love how intertwined those two things are for lewis#and let's be honest for me too#so that's what this is#hope it holds together okay#narnia#chapter one#night under narnia#dying of thirst#pontifications and creations#leah stories
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The waves continued to lap against the shore. Push and pull. Breathe in, breathe out.
“What triggered it?”
The question was quiet, and so out of the blue it took Wilbur a moment to realize Tommy had asked it.
“What do you mean?” Wilbur asked.
“Your panic attack,” Tommy clarified, his hair tickling Wilbur’s cheek again. “Was it random, or did something trigger it?”
"Your Name Is A Triangle" by @bonesandthebees
song i drew this to alt version under the cut
#These past few months have been Hard for me art wise#No desire to even pick up the pen for the first few weeks after the wilbur finale and then utter demotivation because of tommys#At some point my passion for the mcyt fandom hanged by one thread- fanfiction#and the only fics i wanted to read were those of someone i already know and love#I was miserable over the idea no crimeboys content will make me emotional anymore#The first fic I willed myself to read is This one#and it was the biggest most sought-after surge of positive emotion I've experienced in a while#so relatable and soft and real and in character and so. full of love#Bee revitalized me to the point i instantly jumped to sketch this art the image was SO CLEAR. And I drew and It Worked I could draw#And till recently i couldnt find time to finish it and post it but even the coloured sketch brought me so much hope and joy to look at#Now one of my favorite pieces for so many reasons#Love your resident fic writers#Give them apprecition on the daily#they're my forever heroes#crimeboys#crime boys#crime boys fanart#mcyt fanfiction#wilbur soot#wilbur soot fanart#fanfiction fanart#tommyinit fanart#tommyinnit#mcyt
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