Finally have a new title for The Divine series. This feels so good.
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she comes at you with a knife, do u flirt back??
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suddendly had the thought of what if i dialed up hylias and demises design up as much as i can and well, i know its extremely rough bc i just wanted to see what it would look like but it also has a very strong ..design style to it i like alot
now wondering if i can make use of it at some point nfjldvnlgfdlv
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i’ve literally been posting this sketch everywhere bc i’m so proud of it help
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Work In Progress of my latest painting
(Oh come on, it’s been a while since the last Bettyjuice. My hand deserves a treat!)
Fun fact: A great portion of Betty’s design is inspired by the 80’s drag queen, Divine! Her stage persona reminds me painfully of Betty, particularly her character’s pride in being “cheap” and “absolute filth”. To me… it’s just perfect! The energy, the era, the figure… (It also earns my artwork a lot of comparison to Ursula since she was inspired by Divine too… It can sting a little, but I understand where it comes from and I am always happy to add on to it! It’s a connection to another piece of media they adore, and I am always on board with that. Am I making any sense? Probably not… but that is alright.)
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lil wip gif of a new animation I'm working on :))
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“I remember the way she told me she loved me. And I remember losing some kind of faith in the universe when she didn’t come back.
It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault she’s gone. I know that. But I think about how cruel it is. How the world could give me someone like her, have her say something like that, and not bring her back to me. And it hurts to think … in her final moments … how she must have realised it, too.”
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Unsettling religious symbolism? In MY weird woman extended universe?
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Finally got around to writing the Apollo fic I'd planned on. The lore is long and convoluted, but I'm in too deep, and this is probably about to become a series.
Anyway, here's an excerpt:
“Oh dear,” the voice coos, resonant and girlishly gentle. “Hera will not touch you here.”
It is a pitiful reassurance. There are few who can truly stop her, and none who would do so, not even Zeus. Especially not Zeus. Not when he is father and infidel all at once, a lover to a titan and a traitor to his wife.
“You do not need Zeus. I am here.”
“He sent Boreas to help me,” Leto says, outraged and defensive, still in love.
The island laughs. It is a bitter thing, born of sorrow and hysteria. Leto puts her hand over her swelling belly, frightened at the change.
“Oh sister,” it croons again, “do you not know?”
Know what? Leto knows nothing, has known nothing save rejection and pain, and miles and miles of land passing beneath her weary feet, none of it a place to rest. The wrongness itches in her head, harder to ignore. The air congeals, choking her; a face emerges – as familiar as her own. The woman bends towards her, titaness and island all at once. Her skin, dark as Nyx’s dread night, is dotted with stars, her eyes glow bright and cold.
Leto gapes, horrified. “Asteria…?”
“She comes.”
Asteria touches her chest and Leto wakes up gasping.
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