#jonah (oc)

[khazadspoon]

@kakmem drew my western OC Jonah and I need people to see. I need him to be seen. I have a vague backstory for him and stuff but my main visual idea was “stern handsome man MUST have cleft in his chin” and that was that

[skelesass]

see no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil

[qirarey123]

And this is why Josephine is too hesitant to reveal her identity to him.

Not after hearing his long hour rant about Spiderwoman

[nepotisim]

[alienssstufff]

oc and unserious-concept i made up in a time when i absolutely shouldn't

In the state of Pencilvania (and beyond) exists magical girls who do whatever they want with their powers for good or for evil or for otherwise - with the power of Magic Cases. It's Jonah's job to investigate these cases, making sure the use of these powers don't go out of hand and destroy everything. There are different Types (genre?) of magical girl yet each Magic Case is unique to whom they are gifted.

Found perhaps one of my oldest ever sketchbooks a week ago moving out. She's a redraw of I think a Monster High oc I made way back when -- "Slender's Daughter" the drawing is called (pa would make me title everything i drew). Originally I was going to play into the same trope (redesigning Slenderman's daughter) then it just spiralled from there.

When thinking about the final design for Jonah, even if they no longer were a monster high oc - I still wanted to have the mechanics of the game in mind. A misty night, flashlights, black suits, torn pages. All that whwhwhwh

[hallowshumour]

Washout 🧿🌊💥❌️

[katylokk]

Sketcheeeeeeessssss

[the-east-art]

I literally don’t think I’ve ever drawn my OC Jonah in color! Credit to @trekkerac s Stan drawing they did that used as inspiration

[tokogung19]

Canon x OC cause why not 🫶💖

[presidentpoppy]

tried out wigglypaint for the first time!!!

[crookedwingsims]

Fun fact: Jonah has a half-brother! His name is Reno 💙

Reno has his life together, unlike a certain someone...

[khazadspoon]

I was gonna nap but I felt like writing so here have some terribly sad OC stuff. Jonah and Tristan are mine, Hale belongs to @westernmeowmeow

—————

The headline stared up at him in glaring black print.

Notorious outlaw dead : Hale Gladwin hanged on Texas border.

For a moment he felt nothing. He stared at the paper, no thoughts in his mind, and then-

“Jonah?” Tristan walked to his side, a warm hand on his shoulder. “Oh. Oh God, Jonah I-”

He turned, feet moving without any reason behind them, and walked to the wagon. The paper crumpled in his hands.

“Take me home.”

His voice sounded weak, far away even in his own head. The town faded to a high pitched humming and Jonah couldn’t feel his fingers. He couldn’t feel anything, not even the worn wooden seat underneath him.

Tristan climbed onto the wagon and urged the horses on. The ride was relatively short, but before they could make it to the farm Jonah felt bile rise in his throat. He grasped blindly at Tristan’s arm and hissed; “stop the wagon.”

The horses protested the sudden change, but the wagon slowed to a stop. Jonah stumbled from the seat and fell to his knees, acid in his mouth as he vomited on the hard ground, tears stinging his eyes as he heaved. It hit him like a punch to the chest. He threw up again, nothing left inside, but his body insisted it had to happen. His stomach muscles cramped, his nose ran, an utterly humiliating display of pain he was powerless to stop.

“Jonah,” he heard his husband murmur by his side, only just noticing the warm hand rubbing his back. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The rest of the journey was a blur. Trees passed, their leaves dull and unmoving, but then all colour seemed to have drained from the world. Jonah floated like a sailor thrown from his ship, waiting for rescue but knowing only the terrible, cold depths of the water below would greet him.

Hale was dead.

Hale was dead.

Hale was never coming back.

Tristan’s voice was muffled as he ushered Jonah into the farm house. His hands were warm, impossibly kind and gentle, but Jonah felt only cold as he sat at the kitchen table. He thought if he looked up he would see himself sat there, some terrible empty shell of a man clinging on to a newspaper and seeing nothing of the world around him.

Hale was dead.

He didn’t eat that day. He didn’t weep like he thought he would when the inevitable happened. Tears stung at his eyes but never fell. Grief settled over him like a thick, scratchy blanket, dulling his senses and blotting out the light. He moved from room to room with no thought, no aim, and found himself sitting on the guest bed cradling that damned newspaper as though the words writ large on the front page would somehow change if he gripped it hard enough.

Part of him knew Tristan was worried - he heard his husband call his name, offer him food and water, felt himself lifted and carried to their bed, but it was all so far away. When he slept, all he could see was Hale dangling from the gallows, all the brightness of his eyes gone, all the vitality of him drained away.

He woke to find himself curled into a ball, his muscles aching from how tightly he held himself there.

On the third day he wept so hard he thought he would never stop. It hurt. Everything hurt. Every inch of him was tired beyond measure but he couldn’t stop.

Hale was dead.

He walked to the rise beyond the farm and stared at the sunset. His hands longed for something to hold on to, something sharp to grip, and he avoided the kitchen when he returned. Tristan hovered with an aching sadness on his face Jonah couldn’t bring himself to see.

On the tenth day, he ate a full meal. Tristan smiled at him, and he smiled back. It hurt to smile, as though he was being punished for any glimpse of happiness he might feel.

On the third week he laughed. He still avoided a particular drawer in the kitchen, but he could sleep in their marriage bed without guilt.

Hale was still dead.

But Jonah was alive. Tristan was alive. Their life together still had miles to go and Jonah would be damned if he let that slip away. Hale wouldn’t have wanted him to-

Hale was dead.

Grief came in waves, sometimes like the tide coming in, sometimes like a great wave crashing against a cliff. Parts of Jonah crumbled into that sea of grief. He didn’t know if they would ever come back. He didn’t know if he wanted them to. The scar his grief left behind was a marker that showed he had loved a man so deeply it had changed him.

Hale was dead, and Jonah was left behind to mourn a man he never said he loved out loud.

And when a horse and rider approached the farm, grief and rage became a storm, whipped up by love and longing into a typhoon.

[skelesass]

assorted doodles of John/Jonah and the sibs

[snick-cooler]

Here's a bunch of art I haven't posted here!

1 - Francis's new neighbor has a haunting aura (someone made a design for death in AH and I had to draw it)

2 - Jonah used to draw himself with wings as a kid, but surely that was just childhood fantasy, right?

3 - Fake Gabby for someone on the EP Discord

4 - Peppino and Gabby styleswap

5 - Friend Snicky is easily frightened

6 - Prolonged exposure to angel hares has taken its toll on Jonah

7 - I don't have any useful or meaningful context for this one

[nepotisim]

[analoghorrorisyummy]

wawawawasawawwa

Art! Art! And MORE art! ^^

mostly tmc, and uh the dandy’s world is an au thingy now. Welcome to Cesar’s world I guess-

Shoutout to my friend for making Sarah and Evelin :3 @shelly-kin

Ty is my oc btw. Silly guy.

I actually really like most of my art right now :P

Also, here’s a silly Miku thingy I made! Uhhhh. Ye. :3