axilarts - Tumblr blog

[axilarts]

@the-fifth-marauder101 ohmygod thank you so much for writing this short fic! It was a joy to read! I hope you enjoyed the art as much as I enjoyed reading this!

Can we just talk about how much of a shame it is we didn’t get to see the scene Eddie worked so hard for?! Truly a loss! *quietly crying*

My favorite cinnamon roll is actually a badassmotherfucker! I do actually want to write a fic about this although I’m unsure of my capabilities as of yet 

I was thinking Newt helps the Aurors apprehend a trafficking ring but gets hurt in the process saving Graves from a surprise knife attack (because no one would think to bring a knife to a wand-fight? idk man). Panicking, Graves demans Newt take off his shirt to be treated despite the protests from a very self-conscious magizoologist because Mr.Graves, I am perfectly fine, it was just a nick really. You needn’t fret over this! AND BAM. UNDERNEATH THAT FRAIL EXTERIOR IS A HARDENED BADASS WITH SCARS LITTERING HIS BEAUTIFULLY FRECKLED SKIN. Cue all the aurors just dropping their jaw like Dayuuum

[axilarts]

A recent commission I did for @vindsie

This is for the first chapter of their wonderful fic! The two brothers

PLEASE GO READ IT I PROMISE YOU WON’T REGRET ANYTHING!

Thank you so much for commissioning me! You were so lovely to work with and I appreciate your patience and feedback through it all!! Bless your sweet heart 🖤

[axilarts]

I know I haven’t drawn these two in a while bUT I THOUGHT I’D DO A QUICK MARKER DRAWING OF THEM IN LIGHT OF MY NEWEST OBSESSION

[axilarts]

SO badturquoise (IG) MADE LIKE A REVERSE AU THING FOR DETROIT AND I’VE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE I SAW IT I’ve been wanting to draw it so I gAVE IN.

Poor bb tired himself out and fell asleep at his table. I JUST WANTED TO SHOW THEIR CONNECTION AND LOOVEEEE You can see this as HankCon or just Father/Son  EITHER WAY I LOVE THESE TWO AND THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY. (this is also possibly a wip since I’m considering coloring it but idk yet)

[axilarts]

MY BOY. MY BEAUTIFUL BOY.

[axilarts]

Can we just talk about how much of a shame it is we didn’t get to see the scene Eddie worked so hard for?! Truly a loss! *quietly crying*

My favorite cinnamon roll is actually a badassmotherfucker! I do actually want to write a fic about this although I’m unsure of my capabilities as of yet 

I was thinking Newt helps the Aurors apprehend a trafficking ring but gets hurt in the process saving Graves from a surprise knife attack (because no one would think to bring a knife to a wand-fight? idk man). Panicking, Graves demans Newt take off his shirt to be treated despite the protests from a very self-conscious magizoologist because Mr.Graves, I am perfectly fine, it was just a nick really. You needn’t fret over this! AND BAM. UNDERNEATH THAT FRAIL EXTERIOR IS A HARDENED BADASS WITH SCARS LITTERING HIS BEAUTIFULLY FRECKLED SKIN. Cue all the aurors just dropping their jaw like Dayuuum

[axilarts]

OKAY SO I WAS COMMISSIONED BY THE LOVELY @vindsie TO DO ART FOR CHAPTER 32 OF THEIR FIC DIE BY THE DROP. GUYS. PLEASE READ IT, IT’S AMAZING AND SO WELL WRITTEN I’M CRYING.

THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR COMMISSIONING ME. I LOVED EVERY MOMENT I WAS DRAWING THIS. BOTH NEWT AND THE DRAGON ARE MY BABIES. BLESS YOU.

[axilarts]

A recent commission I did for @vindsie

This is for the first chapter of their wonderful fic! The two brothers

PLEASE GO READ IT I PROMISE YOU WON'T REGRET ANYTHING!

Thank you so much for commissioning me! You were so lovely to work with and I appreciate your patience and feedback through it all!! Bless your sweet heart 🖤

[axilarts]

HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYSSS I JUST WANTED TO START WITH A REALLY QUICK DUMB DOODLE BUT YES. HERE’S TO A NEW YEAR BECAUSE 2018 WAS A WRECK, OKAY THANKS.

[axilarts]

SO GUESS WHO WATCHED SPIDERMAN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE God, the movie was so visually stunning. I can’t get enough of it.

[axilarts]

@funkzpiel Ohmygod, I re-read the small ficlet and fell in love with it all over again sobbbb thankyou for mentioning me!!

The Walk

“His hair has gone grey. He passes every day. They say he walks the length of the city…

He is working through the unimaginable.”

- Hamilton, Quiet Uptown

It’s fall and the leaves are dying. They brush against the polished shine of his shoes, fragile beneath his feet – brittle. He feels brittle, too. Dry and used and wasting away.

Graves’ knee plaques him. They tell him it won’t ever fully heal. He grips the walking cane a little tighter. His wand is in its center, unrecognizable. An anchor meant to help him feel less crippled. Regal and ornate like every other part of his well designed mask. A symbol of power and wealth. Like his opulent coat and his freshly pressed suits and the shoes he still shines even though he has no job to wear them to. 

Armor that has no use.

Every morning, he goes about dressing himself as if nothing happened; too afraid to stop. And every evening, he winds up here – in Central Park.

He feels thin, like water spread across a wide floor, ever spreading further and further apart from itself.

His knee gives. He grits his teeth, his breath a great and angry plume in front of his face. He breathes and the feeling passes.

He watches a group of children chase each other, hears their laughter and feels a pang for the life he’s missed.

The wind bites deeper than his coat can stand and he remembers a time he didn’t used to feel so cold so easily. He stumbles, teeth already bared to curse. He seethes. His knee pops cruelly. He dips. No one notices, no one notices –

– And then there is a hand at his elbow, not holding him up but rather entwining with his until he is elbow to elbow with a familiar blue coat. Scarred hands and pleasant eyes, happy to see him. Smiling. Wrinkles from his laugh lines – so unlike his own. 

Graves’ wrinkles don’t seem to go away, lately.

“I can’t believe you started without me! I almost missed out on the best park of the walk!” Newt says cheerfully, cheeks rosy from running and from the chill.

Graves scoffs and tries to remember how his lonely evening walks had somehow become a tradition he shared with the wispy Magizoologist. A ritual that had somehow bloomed seemingly from nothing. One day, Newt was just there – and had been ever since.

“You hardly missed anything, Scamander. You accomplished in mere seconds what took me minutes to do. You could go walk it again and catch up with me without missing a beat.”

Newt falls into step with him, unhurried. Content to meander not because Graves cannot move faster, but because he genuinely seems to enjoy slowing down this aspect of his day. To breathe.

Newt tucks his chin and smiles as though he knows something Graves does not.

“It’s not the park I was afraid I’d miss,” Newt says, friendly, and begins to chatter as he always does. And calmly, Graves listens. Queenie and Tina had warned him once to be patient with the man. Something about him being a bit of an odd duck – just as quick to withdraw as he was to speak his mind. But Graves found that Newt had no trouble holding up a conversation. He spoke of his creatures quite liberally now that Graves had no power to reprimand him. He spoke of his book and his plans and his many adventures.

And despite himself, Graves finds it calming just to listen. Occasionally he engages. He asks about what creatures he has or how Newt came to acquire them; but generally he just listens, swept up in the robust passion of Newt’s words that made his own life feel thin and grey by comparison. Sometimes he just closes his eyes and lets Newt lead him - lost in the soft wonder of his voice.

He can’t help but be in awe of the sheer force of nature that is one Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.

The hand at his elbow grips him a little tighter, as though anticipating something exciting as they crest the same hill they always climb to catch the sunset they always watch. The trek leaves Graves aching and unable to catch his breath. His hand trembles fiercely on the grip of his cane, but he does not ever mention it and neither does Newt. Instead, Graves takes a deep, steadying breath and looks out at the view before them – caught as he is always caught by the sheer magnificence of oranges and purples and pinks against the dimming New York sky. He feels a little bit of the weight on his bones leave him, his body oddly light, and sighs.

“This was what I was afraid I’d miss,” Newt says softly.

“That’s the great thing about sunsets, Newt. They come back,” Graves says dryly, eyes sliding from his favorite view in the city to his companion to wryly tease him – and falls still. Newt is looking at him, smiling a little smile, and suddenly everything feels important. 

It’s then that Graves realizes that Newt had never been watching the sunset. Not this evening or the evening prior or the evening before that. He blinks, at a loss. He blames the cold on his rising flush and coughs to hide his stammer.

“An old man staring at the sky. Hardly a novel view.”

He refuses to look at the man even when Newt’s grip gets a little tighter.

“A brave man choosing to see it once again,” Newt says, certain. “I think there’s more beauty in that than in a sunset that will come regardless.”

When Graves returns to the park the next day, it’s not for the sunset.

[axilarts]

SOBB THANK YOU SO MUCH @funkzpiel

Have you ever considered a beauty and the beast style story with newt as beauty and Percival as the beast, grindelwald was the sorcerer, and the aurors are the enchanted objects? Idk I saw the movie and I've been thinking about it a lot. Like everyone in town except Jacob and Theseus thinking Newt's weird (especially bc he isn't married) and then him stumbling upon the castle and falling in love with this grumpy beast idk it's just so \(^-^)/ !

Ya know, I hadn’t thought about it… but this artist’s gorgeous illustration definitely makes it plausible, doesn’t it? I love that it’s Newt who stumbles on the castle though. Like, he isn’t taken prisoner. Percy wants him to go because what the fuck, boy, I am not beautiful I am a monster why aren’t you afraid of me - you should be. 

“There’s beauty in everything,” Newt says gently, cradling Graves’ massive claws in his hands. “Just as much beauty in a wildflower as there is in teeth and claws and fangs. Just a different kind of beauty. A fatal kind of beauty. A kind heart wrapped in knives. Who did this to you?”

Graves yanks his paw back.

“Does it matter?”

“Not to me,” Newt says, “You are who you are, whether you’re covered in fur or skin you’re Percival Graves and that’s all that matters to me. The question is, does it matter to you?”

Graves stills. He thinks of what it was like to be a man. To be a prince, before Grindelwald came and snatched his kingdom away from him. The plans he once had to make his kingdom great. To make sure his people’s crops flourished and their livestock prospered and their bellies were filled. To make sure their economy grew and their lands were secure.

He thinks of what it is now. Of what Grindelwald did to it after he murdered his father and performed the witchcraft that had bound him beneath fur and fear and fangs. 

“It did, once,” Graves growls softly.

Newt smiles.

“Once?”

[axilarts]

SO badturquoise (IG) MADE LIKE A REVERSE AU THING FOR DETROIT AND I’VE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT IT EVER SINCE I SAW IT I’ve been wanting to draw it so I gAVE IN.

Poor bb tired himself out and fell asleep at his table. I JUST WANTED TO SHOW THEIR CONNECTION AND LOOVEEEE You can see this as HankCon or just Father/Son  EITHER WAY I LOVE THESE TWO AND THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY. (this is also possibly a wip since I’m considering coloring it but idk yet)

[axilarts]

MY BOY. MY BEAUTIFUL BOY.

[axilarts]

Can we just talk about how much of a shame it is we didn’t get to see the scene Eddie worked so hard for?! Truly a loss! *quietly crying*

My favorite cinnamon roll is actually a badassmotherfucker! I do actually want to write a fic about this although I’m unsure of my capabilities as of yet 

I was thinking Newt helps the Aurors apprehend a trafficking ring but gets hurt in the process saving Graves from a surprise knife attack (because no one would think to bring a knife to a wand-fight? idk man). Panicking, Graves demans Newt take off his shirt to be treated despite the protests from a very self-conscious magizoologist because Mr.Graves, I am perfectly fine, it was just a nick really. You needn’t fret over this! AND BAM. UNDERNEATH THAT FRAIL EXTERIOR IS A HARDENED BADASS WITH SCARS LITTERING HIS BEAUTIFULLY FRECKLED SKIN. Cue all the aurors just dropping their jaw like Dayuuum

[axilarts]

Percival Graves was a man with a fierce reputation. His temper was as legendary as his achievements and it was this knowledge that kept MACUSAs employees in line. He did not tolerated nothing less than perfection, harsh and critical.

Despite that, no one could argue that the man’s heart was as equally large as anything else about him. His passion was a raging fire, and the warmth of his protection was a comfort to all he called his own. That being said, those fuckers who dared touch what belongs to him will burn.

The day Percival Graves found out that his love had been taken from him, the entire tensed in frightful anticipation. They were expecting an explosion of catastrophic anger.

Witnessing the director now, they almost wished they were right in their predictions.

There was no furious shouting or frantically barked orders.

Instead, the director stood tall head tipped forward just slightly so that shadows fell over his dark eyes. The ransom note in his hand had already started singeing the moment locks of red hair fell upon its opening, matted and stained dark with what looked suspiciously like blood. The note soon disintegrated into ashes in his tight grip.

The air tasted like electricity, and lightning. The air heavy and dense with pressure that buzzed almost audibly. Magic crackled around the director’s powerful form. Percival’s eyes flickered up and no one was quite able to repress the shudder that was brought by the sheer magnitude of rage within dark eyes- the only thing that truly betrayed his emotions. The normally warm brown seemed to glow scarlet in accordance to the magic pulsing throughout the room.

His lips parted sending all the auror’s guts coiling in suspense. Softly spoken words sent a shiver of goosebumps in its wake.

“Prepare the morgue.”

When he disapparated, they nearly stumbled with the sudden absence of magical pressure.

Again, they are reminded the exact reason why storms are named after people.

[axilarts]

god this is old too

Welp. Ended up doodling this little cinnamon roll instead of doing my overflowing mountain of HW fuuuuuck me :’) but anyway

a hint of Gramander because again, I’ve fallen into another fandom pit and I just can’t seem to claw my way out

but I thought I’d maybe write something for it please don’t judge though, I’m pretty shit at writing and I’ve never done it before so here goes nothing - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

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