#jjellybean

[mispelled]

the laugh sounded so much like jake to me that i had to do this

[merakibbe]

╰(*´︶`*)╯ . . . #myart #art #sketch #pencil #pencilsketch #sketchbook #artoftheday #watercolor #aziraphale #goodomens #angel #ourside #awww #jjellybean (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bztl3tugai2/?igshid=dcj36m4ygsa9

[djromierome]

Had to let sis @jjellyybbean get that "werk" in before the weekend. #tatttatttattedup #jjellybean #tattooartist #tattedbrahs #Repost @jjellyybbean with @repostapp ・・・ ...at it again... #tattooart #tattoo #tattoos #tat #linework #djromierome #ink #hobby #gasgebencrew

[theladyofdeath]

In the Bleak Midwinter {19}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: So, uh, next chapter is the last chapter...

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

Fanfic Masterlist

Ask me

The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Gavriel’s hand hit the sergeant’s desk with a thump. 

“We need to know where she is, and we need to know where she is, now.” 

“I have no information,” Sergeant Nazari said, through gritted teeth. “I’ve told you as much ten times now, I don’t know when it’ll get through your head.”

Sergeant Nazari had been on the Cadre’s payroll for the past five years. He’d been incredibly helpful through the years, had saved all of their asses a million times, but in this particular situation, Gavriel was about to lose his shit. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to scream at the man on the other side of the desk, but Vaughan’s hand gently rested on his shoulder.

Vaughan was right.

Nazari had never lied to them before. He was loyal.

If he was saying he didn’t know where Maeve was, he really didn’t know where she was. 

“Fine,” Gavriel breathed. “If you find anything out-.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Sergeant Nazari promised. 

With a nod, Gavriel and Vaughan exited the station, pulling out their cigarette cases the moment they stepped out into the street. 

“I don’t get it,” Gavriel began, shaking his head. “Someone in this damned city has to know where Maeve has holed herself up.”

He met Vaughan’s weary gaze. 

“I know,” Gavriel sighed. “We’re running out of time.”

Vaughan nodded his agreement, his shoulders slumping, but his pace remaining steady as they walked back to their horses. After they mounted their saddles, they were hurrying out of town, back toward the estate. 

When they returned, Rhoe and his men were standing outside, smoking, a worried Lysandra pacing in front of them.

“News?” Gavriel asked, before he even hopped off his horse. 

Before anyone could answer, a car came speeding up the dirt drive, and Fenrys had the door open before Lorcan had it parked. 

“They’re at the old Cartwright Manor!” he yelled, chest heaving, as if they’d been hurrying. Which, with such information, they should have been. “Since Cartwright died last year, it’s been uninhabited.” 

The Cartwright Manor was only a few miles west. 

“Let’s go,” Gavriel said, readying to mount his horse, yet again.

“We need a plan,” Lorcan said, turning off the engine.

“Like hell we do!” Gavriel yelled. “We’re running out of time!”

“And if we go in there with no plan and create chaos, we’re all going to fucking die!” Lorcan replied, slamming his door shut behind him. 

Gavriel knew that Lorcan was right, but it still pissed him off to admit it. “Then what, pray tell, is the plan?” 

Lorcan ignored Gavriel’s sarcastic comment. “I don’t fucking know, but I know we need one.” 

“Before we all start fighting, because that’s where I see this is headed,” Fenrys began, stepping between them. “I have an idea.”

All eyes landed on him. 

“I went to the Cartwright Manor, often, as a kid, Con and I,” he began. “I know the layout pretty well.”

“Why?” Gavriel asked, curiously.

“Is that information necessary right now?” Lorcan muttered. 

“Our father was good friends with Mr. Cartwright,” Fenrys answered, plainly. “The servant’s entrance is in the back. There’s this creepy, narrow old tunnel beneath the kitchens, I assume they’re probably being held there. Con and I used to joke that that’s where old Cartwright took his prisoners. Through the servant’s entrance, just to the left, there’s a door. Most mistake it as a coat closet, but it’s a staircase that will lead you downstairs.”

Lorcan nodded, slowly. “We have no idea how many of Maeve’s men are there.”

“True,” Fenrys agreed, and nodded to Rhoe and his men. “But we have them, and plenty of ammunition.” 

“So, what?” Gavriel asked. “We break through the servant’s entrance and start shooting?”

Fenrys blinked, shrugging. “Do you have a better idea?” 

Gavriel blew a puff of smoke into the air.

No.

No he didn’t.

“We’re all going to die,” Lorcan muttered. 

From there, no one said a word. Maybe Lorcan was right, maybe they’d all get shot, maybe Maeve’s men would completely overpower them and everything leading up to this point would be all for nothing. 

Elide’s death.

Connall’s death.

Every night they had laid awake, unsure of their futures. 

Every anxious day, every agonizing hour, every trip to the hospital or sighting of blood.

But they wouldn’t leave Aelin there, wouldn’t leave Rowan there.

He was their leader.

So Gavriel tossed his cigarette into the dirt and stepped on it. “Let’s reload.”

~~~~~

Rowan had always hated Maeve.

When he was younger, he used to have nightmares of Maeve as an old witch who lived deep in the woods, eating children, like the one from Hansel and Gretel. As he grew older, he felt foolish for ever feeling such a thing, but now, he was right back to imagining her as his living nightmare. 

His head hurt, dominantly from the gash on the side of his head. His vision was blurred, blood trailing down his chin. He was fairly certain he had lost a tooth.

Or two. 

He could deal with teeth, though. It was the least of what he was about to lose. 

Although he had no idea what time it was, he had caught glimpses of the sun high in the sky as he was dragged out of his room with Aelin and brought into a different one. She had cried, screamed as they took him, but he had told her that he loved her, that he would see her soon.

Even though he had no way of knowing if that were true. 

He was tied to a chair, weak, weaponless, waiting. 

The walls around him were covered in wallpaper, although the windows had been boarded up. He was somewhere upstairs, somewhere in the main living area. There was an oil lamp on a small table not far from him, but aside from that and his chair, the room was empty.

And the old, Persian rug beneath his feet.

The rug that was splattered with his blood.

He groaned, just wanting it all to be over. Everything had gone on for too long, and he was over it, done. 

Waiting was the worst part, and all he had been doing for months now was waiting. 

He could hear her slow, steady footsteps before she appeared in the doorway. 

“Hello, nephew,” she crooned, meandering inside until she was standing only a few feet in front of him. 

“Where’s Aelin?” he asked, although his swollen lips had trouble moving. 

“Does it matter?” Maeve asked, shrugging. “Wouldn’t stop crying, though. Had to muffle those sobs before I went insane.”

She cocked her head, her eyes glowing.

She had gone insane long ago. 

“She goes home.” 

Maeve watched him for a moment in silence before a humorless laugh shook her petite frame. “Are you bargaining with me?”

“Let her go home,” Rowan repeated. “Her, and the baby. Let them go home, safely, and I’ll do whatever you want without a fight.” 

The room fell into silence, Rowan’s declaration, his promise, echoing in the minimal space. 

“I’m beginning to think you’re delusional,” Maeve said, slowly. 

“Aelin,” he repeated, a growl underlying his tone. “Gets to go, unharmed.”

“You’ve repeated that, over and over again,” Maeve said, her pretentious grin disappearing. “It’s growing old.” 

“Then agree,” Rowan snapped.

“You see, this is where you’re mistaken,” Maeve began, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’re not in the place to make a bargain. Either way, you die, and Aelin’s safety means nothing to me.” 

“Surely you don’t hate me that much,” Rowan said, meeting her gaze. “Let Aelin go free. Please.”

Please. He was sincere when he said it, a word he had never used sincerely with his aunt before. If he wasn’t tied up to a chair, he would be down on his knees, begging, pleading. 

Maeve watched him for a long moment, the room going back into silence. Rowan could hear her men walking around downstairs, their boots heavy on the wooden floorboards. 

With every step he heard, his heart beat a little faster.

“Maeve,” he growled, when the silence became too unbearable. 

Her eyes darkened as her lips twisted into a cruel smile. “Aelin has already been….released.” 

There were a lot of different words Maeve could have chosen, but released was one that confused Rowan, pissed him off. 

It was a word that could mean so many different things, but every meaning Rowan thought of only made him feel sick to his stomach.

His jaw locked. “Where is she?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mariamuses  @garnet-29  @writer-reader-traveller  @rowaelin-cressworth  @space-buns-arsinoe  @negativenesta  @empress-ofbloodshed  @the-regal-warrior  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @westofmoon  @sammyjojaaaa  @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter  @carbconnoisseur @acer6437  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cool-ish-nerd  @mynewdreamwasyou  @mourning-razorlust  @thespiritualrider  @rowaelinforeverworld  @didsomeonesayviolin  @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit  @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks  @queen-of-glass  @the-dark-swan  @http-itsrebecca  @holdingon-21@babycardan @tswaney17  @mollycateoc  @chemicha  @bat-wing-rhys @exersize-me-i-dare-u @thespiritualrider  @luna-the-little @morebooks-pls  @shyvioletcat  @hermajestyanna  @a97girl  @stardustsroses  @queenofthemoon22 @alifletcher2012  @awkward-avocado-s  @faerie-queen-fireheart  @cwheart  @lovemollywho @emilyrose111294  @nerdperson524  @sleeping-and-books @cursebreaker29 @flora-and-fae @feyrethedarklady @the-dark-swan @rowaelinforeverworld @sjmsstuff @januarystears @mis-lil-red  @acourtofmoonlight   @rowaelinforeverworld  @courtofmaasdestruction @jjellybean  @thewayshedreamed  @wind-drinker  @aelin-rowan-whitehorn  @starseternalnighttriumphant  @hurema @http-itsrebecca  @lorcansalvatearupmyheart  @cityofchelsea16 @januarystears  @iliketoasterstrudels  @lightitup-bryce  @yikesitsmaddie @feyrethedarklady @i-love-all-books  @keshavomit  @sleeping-and-books @scarznstars  @http-itsrebecca @cat5313 @moondancer-204  @booklover242 @belamoonbeam @they-call-me-cuatro   @b00kworm  @mu-si-ca-l   @thegayerpotato  @abraxos-is-toothless  @keshavomit  @musicdreamer003   @superspiritfestival  @sailorsassley  @mymultiversee @alxanxah @viviaannvu123  @mysweetvillain @theghostlyharrypooperfan @highqueenofelfhame​  @shyvioletcat @maastrash @the-third-me​ @rinad307

[easkyrah]

Update

Hello all! It’s been a two year hiatus, and a time of rediscovering my love for writing and reading. I’ve currently picked up Renee’s Ahdieh The Wrath and the Dawn upon my sister’s request to ignite my love for reading (if you have any other recommendations, I am all ears!). To get back into writing, I have decided to resume my Aeonian series, the Nessian Greek Mythology parts. 

Here are the linked parts for reference:

Part 1  · Part 2  ·  Part 3

If you would like to collaborate on a fic, that would also spark my return to writing! Please let me know if that interests you. It’s been a while since I’ve been immersed in the fandoms so the fic I would be most comfortable with would be an AU of some sort. 

Last but not least, below is my current tag list. I understand that I have been MIA and if you would like to be removed or added - shoot me a message!

@katgirl05, @latinafangurl, @nicoletapink, @maachan-is-hungry, @literarynonsense, @aqueenpromised, @16ozamericano, @hierophantangel, @miss-phengophobia, @samaykay912, @bluephoenix222, @yellow-spiraledbook, @hashtolanashoba, @erwin5253, @jjellybean, @daeniran, @rowanismybae, @bloodshednesta, @illyrianinterrasen, @sarahjtrash, @midnightbluhm, @chocolateserialkiller, @herladyshipxx, @willsrune, @deezrmuhsheeple, @goldbooksblack, @dreamingofazriel, @sskoob, @mergret, brumous-hearts

[bookofmirth]

A Difficult Circumstance - feysand fanfiction 1/?

Summary: Rhys and Feyre make a deal with Cassian during a drunken evening at Rita’s, and the next morning they are startled to find out that magic does not understand irony. Or jokes. And apparently does not care about the amount of drinks one has imbibed and it will take you seriously. AKA the body-switching fic!

Notes: I don’t know how many parts this will end up being; as many ridiculous situations as I can up with, pretty much.

AO3 : Part two : No warnings : Tagging @darkheartsdontbreaktheybruise @personpersonper @birdiethebibliophile @juliasempiternal @feyre-therabeaux @jjellybean @stellaireskies (if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future let me know)

*****

Throwing her right arm across the bed, Feyre was startled to find that instead of resting on a warm, familiar body, it met air. The edge of the bed. She didn’t want to open her eyes quite yet, and so she felt around for the sheets, trying to figure out how far the edge so she knew how far she had to go until she fell off. This was not her usual side of the bed, but she wasn’t quite surprised to find herself at odds with her habits.

She and Rhys had spent the previous evening at Rita’s, with Cassian, Mor, and Lucien. She vaguely remembered drinking. Well, that was a lie. There was drinking, a lot, and laughing, which always came from having that group gathered. There were the usual dares, Cassian threatening to tell the waitress that Mor had a crush on her if she didn’t do it herself, Mor trying to teach Feyre how to dance. It was a failure, as usual, but at least they all got a laugh, and they would leave her alone for the next few months because hey, at least she tried.

Feyre assumed that she and Rhys had fallen into bed together at the end of the night either too exhausted to figure out who normally went where, or perhaps he had flipped her over there in some sort of alcohol-induced sex game. Either way, she was fairly certain that she had slept too long and Nesta or Amren would come barging in any moment. The idea of rubbing either of them the wrong way when they had a full day of work ahead of them was enough to make Feyre groan out loud.

The voice that came from her lips, however, was decidedly not her own. It was deep, and although it was familiar, it was not supposed to be there.

Clearing her throat, Feyre groaned again, with intention. It felt a bit silly, like she was a novice actor trying out different moods, but when Rhys’ groan came out of her throat again, she sat up in bed. She was quite well-acquainted with that sound, having pulled it from him many, many times before. An uncanny sense that she was perhaps still asleep hit her. Feyre squeezed her eyes shut. She clutched the sheets in her fists. When she opened her eyes and looked down, she would see nothing out of the ordinary. She would find a reason why, with her eyes closed, she didn’t feel the usual brush and weight of her hair on her shoulders. There was a logical reason; she must have put it up before passing out. That wasn’t something she normally did, but she also didn’t usually wake up on this side of the bed, with a male voice coming from her throat.

When she opened her eyes and looked down at herself, Feyre was at turns horrified, confused, angry, and curious. A low no escaped her throat, and she searched her memory for what had happened the night before.

Dancing. Drinking. Dares.

That was it. This was all Cassian’s fault, and when she got ahold of him…

Feyre was looking at a body that was nearly as familiar to her as her own, and yet… it was definitely not hers. After realizing that her hair was not as long as it should be, she also found that she had developed a penis, which rested between two thighs that were decidedly more muscled than hers could possibly ever be.

Yes, she knew this body. And it was not her own.

Rhys shifted on the bed, and Feyre froze. She hadn’t looked at him yet. She couldn’t imagine what would greet her, and she looked up at the ceiling, preparing herself for whatever had happened to her mate. Rhys turned over, away from Feyre, and patted the bed, looking for her. He, too, met air, unused to being on this side of her. Feyre watched him in horror as he realized his mistake, as she had, and turned to face her.

With her own face.

Feyre screamed, wincing at how odd her feminine scream sounded coming out in masculine tones, and jumping out of bed, she backed into an armoire so hard that it shook, clothing falling to the bottom inside.

“Who are you?” she managed to get out, every word feeling like a struggle. Not because she was hungover or trying to wake up. No, if anything, she was far too conscious and aware of what was going on. Well, not exactly. She wasn’t sure exactly what the fuck was going on, but she knew Rhys’s voice when she heard it, and she had never heard it coming from her own throat.

“Feyre?” he said, blinking himself awake. Rhys sat up and clutched his throat. “Feyre, Feyre, Feyre,” he repeated, saying her name with different inflections, raising and lowering the tone of his voice. He tried a surprised Feyre! and then a shocked Feyre…  and then tried lowering his voice a couple of octaves to match his normal range, but only succeeded in making himself sound ridiculous. They would have laughed, if they weren't so busy trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“What. The. Hell. Who are you?” Rhys jumped out of the bed when he looked over at her and realized the person he was talking to was himself.

They eyed one another, each in a defensive posture, and yet… not. Neither of them were comfortable in their skin, and Feyre hoped that the person who wore her face was Rhys, not some third party who had managed to get roped into their late-night drinking games.

“It’s me. Feyre.” She cleared her throat again, the repeated motion beginning to chaff. She needed water. She needed water, a pain-killer for the hangover that she was hoping had somehow magically skewed her perception, and she needed to go back to bed and wake up on the right side of it.

“But you’re me. I mean, you look like me,” Rhys answered.

“Ok, I answered your question, now you answer mine. Who are you?” To her chagrin, Feyre’s voice came out squeaky, which she hadn’t known was possible, given Rhys’s usually deep, soothing tones. Normally she would never betray her nerves in a situation like this, but this… she had never experienced anything like this. What made it worse was that the person she would turn to was no longer in his own body, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Rhys. It’s Rhys.” His shoulders - her shoulders - drooped slightly in relief. But only for a moment. He crossed his arms. “I think I’m going to have to ask you to prove yourself.” He was trying to stare her down now, and the effect would have been comical, were it not so terrifying for Feyre to watch herself take on the role of High Lady who would be taking no one’s shit. She was oddly confused and pleased to see how well it worked.

“Why do I have to prove myself? What about you?”

Rhys refused to answer, didn’t budge an inch.

Feyre sighed. “Fine. Ask me anything.”

“When you accepted the mating bond, how many times did we have sex, in what positions, and what rooms of the townhouse?”

“Rhysand! First off, it was in the cabin, but nice try. I’m also not going to answer any of those other questions since you are a complete idiot, trying to make a joke at a time like this!” Feyre had moved away from the armoire and gestured wildly about the room, her surprise at his question tempered by the fact that she should have known he’d ask something like that.

He nodded. “That’s fine, I know it’s you. Now, ask me something.”

“I’m not going to ask you anything,” Feyre answered, “only you would come up with a test so ridiculous.”

“You're probably right.” Rhys sighed, then reached up and cupped his new breasts. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Please don’t do that.” Feyre grimaced. She could barely stand to look at herself, not to mention watch Rhys wearing her face while fondling himself.

“Why not? You let me do this all the time. You quite like it, if I remember yesterday morning accurately.”

“Yes,” Feyre replied, “but now it’s just creepy. Stop touching… yourself.”

“Fair enough.”

They watched each other awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed until Rhys figured out what Feyre had already deduced, and he growled out a name. “Cassian.”

“Yes. Cassian. The bet. Apparently, verbal contracts while drunk are still binding. And we must not have lived up to our end of the bargain.”

“Right.” Rhys started to pace across the room. “We need to fix this. As much as I love you, Feyre darling, I don’t think I can spend the rest of my life in this body.” Realization dawned on his face and he reached down, grabbing between his legs. “Cauldron boil me…” He turned white as a sheet and Feyre yelled at him again to stop fondling himself - or rather the other parts of himself that he found there.

“What are we going to do?” Feyre felt herself on the verge of tears, the hangover and the body switching and the bet she had lost and all the work she had planned for the day weighing down on her.

Rhys strode to her and they fell together for a moment, awkwardly adjusting for a height difference that made Feyre feel she were embracing a child. She wondered what it felt like to him, to embrace someone so much larger than himself for once. But then she remembered that Rhys had known Lucien and Cassian intimately far before she had met him, and figured that was his reference point.

“I will fix this, Feyre, I promise. We just need to figure out if we can still hold up our end of the bargain, or perhaps break the original deal we made.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?” Feyre asked.

“I mean, we could…” Rhys looked down at himself, then at Feyre. Neither of them were wearing anything, and Feyre wondered if she wore her intentions on her face so clearly any time she tried to make any sort of innuendo. Then, she reminded herself that the “horny, inappropriate” role in their relationship was always played by Rhys. No need to worry there.

“Rhys, are you kidding me?” Feyre couldn’t help but try to clear her throat at almost every word, as if somehow her usual lilt would return and she wouldn’t be speaking with her mate’s voice. She knew the bond was strong, but she had never wanted to be quite this close to him.

“Yeah, sure, you’re right. Let’s get this figured out.” Rhys crossed the room and pulled on a soft cotton nightgown that Feyre kept draped over a nearby chair. Twirling his hips slightly, he watched it flare. “Hm, dresses are fun,” he said to himself. Looking up at Feyre’s horrified expression, he walked around the bed to grasp her hands. “Feyre, I will fix this. I promise. But first, I have to kick Cassian’s ass.”

“Cassian can’t find out,” she said, the name followed by a slight noise from deep in her throat. If she couldn’t get that impulse under control, everyone would figure them out.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t want him to know he won. I want to… mess with everyone for a bit, first.”

“Feyre, darling. I do believe that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages.”

[illyriantremors]

jjellybean replied to your post:jjellybean replied to your post:jjellybean replied...

Can’t stop smiling here Thank you soooo much ❤️

You're super welcome, love! <3

[merakibbe]

lil simple scene . #iwascamping #digital #sketchbook #sketchtodigital #art #myart #cute #jjellybean #scene #reallysimple #procreate #plants #color (at Rubber Duck Cafe) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzTxXUygjCX/?igshid=18dafp3gtjvqr

[merakibbe]

Limes for key lime pie☺️ . . Realistic drawings are so hard! But it turned out pretty nice. #limes #myart #food #procreate #art #igotworkagainlater #weirdbackground #realistictry #jjellybean #digital #digitalart #yum #green #digitalpainting (at Dandelion) https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/BzBeDc1Amgo/?igshid=1ffe6okoqf2do

[merakibbe]

Flores y Pintura • • • #art #sketch #pencil #pencilsketch #sketchbook #artoftheday #myart #jjellybean #paint #watercolor #flowers #plants #floresdepapel #pintura #acuarelas #hablarespañol (at Banana Popsicle) https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/BvfhtnHg-cl/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=utk0uem531yk

[merakibbe]

A random drawing I made from the 5min of free time I had from school. High School Is Killer. . . #medibangpaint #medibang #art #forgottodohomework #tired #randomdoodle #myart #jjellybean #flowers #digitalart #blackandwhite #doodleoftheday #mondayblues https://www.instagram.com/p/Bso9TQQACnI/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1rdi0exx3huam

[merakibbe]

☆*･゜ﾟ･*\(^O^)/*･゜ﾟ･*☆ . . #myart #art #takashishirogane #jjellybean #sketchbook #sketch #pencil #pencilsketch #voltron #spacedad #blackpaladin #shiro (at Melbourne, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BzlwSzhgBKm/?igshid=16nljiz3pzn02

[merakibbe]

A quick piece before I have to go to work😣 . . . #art #jjellybean #myart #digitalart #digital #boy #job #quickart #basketball #igotnewstuff #15 #hairlooksweird https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/By-8Rk5gtSc/?igshid=jjbvn47jojhf

[merakibbe]

Hand Study and my bunny I got while on break! . . #art #sketch #pencil #pencilsketch #sketchbook #myart #watercolor #pen #blue #jjellybean #hands #mybunny #🐰 #🐇 (at Rain coat studio) https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/By8BaO3glke/?igshid=1csctajfge8xw

[merakibbe]

🎵The sun seems indifferent these days so I talk to the moon.🎵 . . LOOK AT THAT HAND. #art #myart #sketchtodigital #jjellybean #digitalart #digital_art #rustyclanton #plants #blue #bubbles (at Autum Leaf) https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/By3t4D7gn_t/?igshid=1pts9neyfw82j

[merakibbe]

Sketches while I was MIA . . #art #blue #orange #green #realism #realisticsketching #sketching #myart #jjellybean #blankcorner #sketchbook #sketch #pencil (at Crayon Box) https://www.instagram.com/jjellybeaan/p/ByvlK52gCs9/?igshid=165k5w1311ipp