#technically a practice piece

[wtfforged]

save me egghead zoro save me (from artblock

[jakkenpoy]

[sunnyscollection]

I may or may not be a little obsessed

[th3-0bjectivist]

"Spiral Skysill" - Acrylic paint on canvas

[leoandreeda]

My contribution, outfit #164 for @sanjiartcollab but this one has background. The greener, the better 💚

(Update: here's the high-speedpaint on my TikTok!)

[quadrantadvisor]

DP x DC, revenant!Jason Todd

Shortly after meeting, Danny and Jason have a late night conversation about what it means to come back. 1281 words

On AO3

-

Danny woke groggily, in a dark place that he didn't recognize, and took a moment to get his bearings.

He felt the warning ache in his neck that came from being propped up against an arm rest. There were two sources of dim light in the room—the glow of city street lights, muffled behind a curtain, and the green eyes of the man whose lap Danny's feet were propped on.

Right. Danny hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the revenant’s—on Jason’s—couch, but they’d been talking for so long, he must’ve dozed off.

Jason had had so many questions, about ectoplasm, about the zone, about Danny’s own experiences. Danny had done his best to clear up everything he could. A revenant may not be quite the same as he was, but still, it made Danny happy to be able to pass on his hard won knowledge and maybe save someone else a bit of the hurt and confusion that he’d gone through. It was what he’d always wished someone would do for him.

Jason was slumped into the couch, but he didn’t look relaxed. Danny examined his still profile, cast in strange shadows by its own green glow, and wondered how long it had been since he’d moved.

Danny shifted slightly, purposefully producing the fabric sounds of a body against upholstery, to make sure Jason knew he was awake. No reaction. Danny gave him one more moment, then asked, “You okay?”

Jason didn’t look at him when he answered, “You told me I’m basically possessing my own corpse, and I’m supposed to not be upset about that?”

Really, Danny should’ve predicted something like that. How long had he spent, trying to pretend that death hadn’t really touched him? It wasn’t an easy thing to accept.

“What’s the difference between a body and a corpse?” Danny asked.

Jason’s eyes snapped to Danny, their glow intensifying. “I am not dealing with riddle bullshit right now, I swear to-”

“No, I’m being serious,” Danny interrupted, pulling his feet from Jason’s lap and sitting himself up. “There’s one difference between a corpse and a living body, and that’s that someone is living in it. Jason—” he reached out, gripping one of Jason’s hands in his “—you’re alive. That’s what matters. The rest is details.”

Jason’s shoulders bent inwards, his other hand raising to rub at his chest. “You don’t get it,” he said, quiet. “People don’t just come back from what they did to me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“However you died, it’s not-”

Jason huffed an ugly sound, a short and bitter laugh that Danny hurt to hear. “Is it crazy that that isn’t even what I was talking about? I meant after.” The motion on his chest was repetitive, like he was tracing something underneath his shirt, and Danny got the sinking feeling that he knew just what sort of scar it might be. “I was gone, okay? I was gone, and this body was still here. And they took it, and they cut it open and rummaged around inside to figure out what happened. Which is—” he cut off, sniffed, and Danny gripped his hand tighter “—which is stupid, right? It’s not like it wasn’t obvious.” His fingers twitched, and he continued, haltingly, “I mean, I’ve read the report. Pulled it off his stupid files. The smoke inhalation did me in. After everything that happened, it was the smoke.”

Jasons’ hand pulled out of Danny’s, and they both rose to cover his face, cutting off the glow while he curled in on himself even tighter. His voice was slightly muffled when he said, “And then they had to ship me home, right? So they bled me dry and pumped me full of formaldehyde, and they prettied me up so they could pretend I wasn’t just some empty thing, and Bruce held the tiniest most depressing little funeral known to man and put my ass in the ground, and I had to wake up down there.” His words and his breaths were coming too quick, and Danny didn’t know how to help. He didn’t want Jason to stop, not when it seemed like he needed to say all of this, but he could see just how badly the revenant was hurting.

“But you did wake up,” he whispered.

“Woke up in my own mutilated corpse!” Jason snarled. “Everything I’ve forgotten, and that memory is still crystal fucking clear! It stank in there, like death and vinegar and mud, and it was so small, and I couldn’t even try to scream for help because they sewed my fucking mouth shut—!” He broke off into a sob, and Danny couldn’t stand it anymore, had to lean into Jason’s side and wrap an arm around him as he shook with all the emotion he couldn’t reign in.

“Okay,” Danny said. Not you’re okay, just okay. “Okay, so that’s the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard, and I regularly hang out with a guy who wants to skin me.”

Jason sniffed. “What?”

“Nevermind. It’s just-”

“No, I think we should go back to the skinning thing-”

“I just don’t want you to let it define you,” Danny interrupted. “I did that. I got into my head about it, the whole ‘being dead’ thing, feeling like I was…” Danny gave himself a second, swallowed, “like some sort of freak. A thing that didn’t belong anywhere. But I’m still alive, and you’re alive, and even if we weren’t, it wouldn’t matter, because we’re still here, and as long as you’re here you can find something that’s worth staying for.” Danny rubbed what he hoped was a soothing pattern into Jason’s admittedly impressive bicep.

Jason let out a sigh. “I must really be pathetic if you’ve gotta pep talk me like that, huh?” he said, and Danny pretended not to see him wiping at his eyes. “Sorry,” he added, “about all this. I’ve got some shit I haven’t dealt with, and this ‘revenant’ stuff brought it up pretty bad.”

“I get it,” Danny said, and hoped Jason could tell how much he meant it.

Jason sighed again, heavy, like he was trying to release something else with his breath, and said, “It still doesn’t make any sense. Logically, I can’t be alive. Where did my blood come from?”

Danny shrugged. “Do you have blood?”

“I definitely have blood. I’ve seen a lot of it.”

That gave Danny pause. “Just like, around?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jason said, deadpan. “I’ve got a surplus, so I like to leave some here and there, make sure everyone gets a chance to appreciate it.”

“I have no idea how much you’re joking and it frightens me,” Danny told him.

“Weak,” Jason replied.

“Anyways, you gotta not think about it too much. The interdimensional goop is already logic-defying, and you’re mixing magic with it with your special soul willpower or something. Your brain will explode if you try to make it make sense.”

Jason huffed a little laugh, bouncing Danny on his shoulder, and this time it made him feel lighter. “Can I just say that I hate that I’m full of interdimensional goop?”

“Valid,” Danny said.

Even without looking at Jason, Danny could tell that he just rolled his eyes by the way the soft green light moved.

Danny had his ear pressed to Jason’s shoulder, feeling his warmth, and if he focused, he could just make out the revenant’s pulse. Personally, Danny thought it was pretty cool to be full of magic and goop and blood. Much cooler than Danny, who was way more science goop than magic goop. They’d have to compare notes on that sometime.

Maybe Jason would come around to it.

[samglyph]

“Strange,” he said. “You’re so strange. Are you dreaming? Somewhere, in there. Your battery is dead. But are you really gone?”

There we go! My little illustration for TJ Klune’s In The Lives of Puppets. Not actually a scene that takes place in the book mind you but inspired by a couple different ones here and there. Vic putting Hap back together using wood is such an interesting visual in my mind.

[suchaspookyginger]

i've barely done anything to leave a dent in this art overall, but it is very important, to me, that everyone is able to see the law, shachi, penguin, bepo picture that is on law's little end table bookshelf.

[torchstelechos]

Actually sitting down and drawing post canon concept art for Siffrin, sobbing and sniffling the whole way through

[anticidic]

❛ for being someone you hate, i'm sure on your mind a lot. ❜

Decided to write this, uh, ficlet-ish? to get the brain juices going for the other things I'm writing, so enjoy. 547 words of Dazai and Chuuya and contemplating the deeper meaning behind why Chuuya will not leave Dazai's mind.

There they stood beneath a tree—its leaves ripped from it by the winter wind. Of what remained, bony branches waved at them from above, creaking in the silence. An echo of a twig snapping underfoot hit the air and when he blinked, cold steel skyscrapers returned to the world under a layer of fine snow. And falling down all around them.

Once, they were two figures on the spring ice: one trying his best to ignore the other shouting with all his might, fingers plugged in the ears. La, la, la.

Now, Chuuya sounded almost mocking saying those words. Even the curve of the corner of his mouth and the exposed sharp tooth suggested he was ready to play, only they would play by his rules and not Dazai’s own. Sounded familiar, awfully familiar, but Dazai could not pick out just one moment in time when everything about Chuuya screamed familiarity and a home away from home which he’d never return to.

Because without having something constantly on his mind, the morning would never come.

Then came nostalgia. Cooped up in the little four-by-four, shaking… Terrible nostalgia. For himself. For humans. For the world. All too much to bear and yet he loved it. That hate, as Chuuya put it, kept him going. In fact, maybe he was nothing without his spark. True terror would be the day Dazai opened his eyes with the feeling all but vacated from his soul. And left in it, vast emptiness. There were still tiny fragments of emotions hidden in the depths—he just had to reach in with his bare hands and yank them out. But it was like wandering in the darkness and relying on the tiniest light to guide him to where he needed to go. To where? He did not know, but oh, how beautiful the fireflies were that lit up the summer night of yesteryear.

What was it like to miss someone? These words never follow; the answer was ancient, like the blood all over the floor of a forgotten room in a ghost of a building far away, and a relic of the past he'd rather not return to. But it was also good and bad; an ache that brought him joy.

He just wanted to be a person who could sleep at night. Countless times had he been mauled by nightmares, bite marks in his bones. While Chuuya thought himself a dreamless man without an expression marked by worry, the gray beneath his eyes made him look younger, not older. It fooled neither Dazai nor the reflection that stared back in the mirror.

Things went like they did for a reason, he realized. Of the future, of the past, and of all that was not made to last, it would continue this way, and Dazai would turn to him and say, "Every day I think of how to kill you. It isn’t any deeper than that."

He would say it with a cheeky smile and a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but soon, time too would wear that down. For now, this was what they had, and Dazai held onto it for dear life. Something, someone slipped from between his fingers before and it would not happen again.

For ever and ever.

[stellarcuriosity]

(( Did somepony say... ponies? [picrew version under the cut] ))

[peculiardollart]

How heavy do you think Kuro Kabuto's draw weight is

[woodscreature]

Caught.

[screwpinecaprice]

AT with @dragonuva!

This absolute unit, Imp Steven. 😁 I super love drawing himmmm!

Just some more rambling about the possible future of my regular commissions under the cut.

As my laptop got (fixed?) adjusted recently, I've used this opportunity to try out if it can now handle regular commission work. It started to show something's up on the mild rendering process but the lag and laptop heating didn't actually got that bad until a bit further in the full rendering process. Still has a limitation it seems. I'm planning on testing it a second time on a different piece, then I'll decide whether regular commissions will be fully back the next month or not.

[moonchild-in-blue]

ART MUSEUM DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE

my favorite pieces are the Detroit Industry Murals at the Detroit Institute of Arts painted by Diego Rivera and Flowers in a Rococo Vase by Paul Cézanne, which I saw at the National Museum of Art back in 2015!!!!!!! tell me yours if you want

AAAAAAAAAA PLS YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I ADORE THIS!!!

I LOVE hearing about people's favourite pieces like. This is fr my love language 🥹 it's amazing to look at something you would maybe not give much importance through someone else's eyes 💙

AND YOU GOT TO SEE THEM??? WOW that's so incredible!!! Those murals are gorgeous - I can only imagine how surreal it must've been to stand there like 🥹✨

Okay so, in order, mine are Monet's garden paintings - I don't think I have one specific favourite, but the water lilies and bridge paintings are so special to me! Love love love Monet (did see some of his work at the London MoMA!!! So special!!!).

Then we have Psyche Revived By Cupid's Kiss by Antonio Canova, which I have been very annoying about in here before lmao. It's on the Louvre and I really want to visit it 🥺 I know for a fact that I'll weep seeing it in person 🥺 (it's also my favourite myth btw 💘)

Then my most favourite is probably Portrait Of A Lady by Gustav Klimt. I've been in love with it for a million years now 💙 HERE:

Everyone talks about The Kiss or Adele or any other with his famous patterns like Death and Life and The Virgins, etc etc. But for some reason Portrait Of A Lady makes me go all fuzzy and warm and teary-eyed. I can't explain why. Would also love to see it in person one day - it's in an Italian museum (forgor the name).

[oatsmilk]

🐌