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Night in Arlong😭

remember when they were drunk and happy for like 5 minutes??? yeahhh

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illustration of irina and miryem from naomi novik's "spinning silver"! I read this book over the christmas period (appropriately, as it's a very wintry tale) and it reignited all my old love for eastern european folklore. i might do some more illustrations for it if the inspiration stays with me

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mirnatius from spinning silver by naomi novik

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My favorite illustrations from The Poppy War Collector's Edition

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rin and chaghan are such an underrated duo. they’re so funny and they have the whole altan thing going on but when qara died and chaghan said “rin… what am i going to do?” i broke. “they were so similar when she thought about it. too young to be so powerful, not close to ready for the positions they had been thrust into”

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jiang and daji 😆😆😆🤮🤮🤮😭😭😭😢

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And finally, artwork for The Burning God, book 3 of the Poppy War series by the amazing R.F. Kuang. This was made for Subterranean Press's limited run of a special edition publication.

Hope you enjoyed the art!

Sketches and other bonus content are available on my Patreon!

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Artwork done for Subterranean Press's limited edition of The Dragon Republic by R.F. Kuang. I really enjoyed working on this one, too. I love the ocean and bodies of water and stuff like that :)

Sketches and other bonus content are available on my Patreon.

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I worked on a limited press run of The Poppy War series by R.F. Kuang, published by Subterranean Press. Featured here are the cover art and interior illustrations for The Poppy War.

I also did work for book 2, The Dragon Republic, and book 3, The Burning God! Those will be posted soon!

Sketches and other BTS content of my art are available on my Patreon!

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female rage ft. Fang Runin

The personification of female rage

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― Circe, Madeline Miller

[text ID: But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.]

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Haircut

Rin from The Poppy War by RF Kuang

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circe has some of the most beautiful prose i’ve read in a while

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out of nowhere but on the tpw Disco Horse i think while YES tpw is absolutely not a romance it's wrong to say there's NO romance. like if we're defining anything that's romantic love as romance, yes, there is romantic love but the point as nezha literally says himself in tdf is that there was love and it didn't matter one single bit. rinezha basically serves to help hammer in the central tragedy of the story (and reel in the booktok girlies lmao), how war ravages and desensitizes and destroys-- it's only part of the horror

also it's not like a romeo and juliet type tragedy, it's fucked all on its own -- it can't really exist without the war and devastation and insanity, even though that's what damns it. rin and nezha's romance develops as they're fighting a war. their first kiss is under the murui mid-battle to resuscitate rin. nezha finds rin so compelling precisely because she's a crazy insane fucko who would kill him, the only person who can, and part of why rin likes him because he's a) sexy b) a reminder of her days at sinegard where things were so good in comparison to the war.

the first real snippet of anything but hostility between them is when they're, again, fighting a war back to back. and when it becomes hostility again, it's because both chose their duty and principles over each other. and hate coexists with that love, anyway-- rin hates nezha because he's one of the most privileged people in the country, because he took advantage of her trust to betray her for the fucking HESPERIANS, and nezha hates rin because she's, you know, a genocidal drug-addled peasant warlord who can only thrive off of conflict and doesn't value human life, because she's leading a war against everything he stands for, etc.

there was love and it didn't matter. on with the bloodshed, folks!

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ok. well. it probably doesn't count as a "romance" what with it being so intertwined with the war, but saying there's no romance is just not true

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Demon Copperhead - Barbara Kingsolver

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A ten-year-old getting high on pills. Foolish children. This is what we’re meant to say: Look at their choices, leading to a life of ruin. But lives are getting lived right now, this hour, down in the dirty cracks between the toothbrushed nighty-nights and the full grocery carts, where those words don’t pertain. Children, choices. Ruin, that was the labor and materials we were given to work with. An older boy that never knew safety himself, trying to make us feel safe. We had the moon in the window to smile on us for a minute and tell us the world was ours. Because all the adults had gone off somewhere and left everything in our hands.

Barbara Kingsolver, Demon Copperhead