Bedrock bros drawing based on this stock photo provided by @epicaxolotls
Alt versions + closeup + talking a LOT under cut about this drawing <3
^ this is technicly the original version, but i really liked the tinted effect i slapped on last minute so thats the one im putting above the cut.
v Crashed my drawing app when doing these effects, it was so worth it look its shiny. Im a simple man i see shiny i eat my own art
v Closeups!!!
The rambling is lightly edited from me blabbing about this drawing in a discord server, so if it's very 'steam of conscious' it is because i was literally texting these thoughts
Okay so the BRAIDS. The braids in it are IMPORTANT okay they are they are
The designs aren't timeline consistent, because i was doing the drawing for me and also @epicaxolotls and both of us solely care about the fact there is bedrock bros and nothing else. So the white in Tommy's hair (THE PART THAT'S BRAIDED!!!) is from being revived.
But Techno doesn't have a braid in his hair, only Tommy. The Blade is a weapon, not something to be cherished and cared for and loved. Braids as a form of love, braid as a love language i will not take criticism because I'm so correct about this. The white in Tommy's hair being the part that's braided, also, that's surely something isn't it that's something that is SOMETHING.
Techno braiding the white part in Tommy's hair, it will still be in the corner of his eye but it will be wrapped in love. It will have bedrock dangling from it. The bedrock is on Tommy's braid because it is a symbol between the two of them, it's something gentle but strong held up by string and neither of them will let the string snap. They won't let is snap.
Techno's bedrock is on his sword - it's on his method of violence, the method of violence Tommy is CALLING ON!!! The violence Tommy is COUNTING ON the violence he is using to protect himself. The sword is made of marble (because it looks cool but ALSO--) Techno's violence is a PROMISE it is a swear an oath from a blood god who will not break it.
No matter what, Techno will be the blade he needs to be. He is as much of a weapon as the tool in his hand.
No matter what. He scars and bleed cold, before he even makes the first swing the sword is covered in gold it is dripping it is his
The words 'BLADE' is intertwined with his sword, the word is golden and blends into it
Mentioning this now, but the only colours in the drawing (if i don't count the effects i did that was just me having some fun with it and crashing my drawing app) is only two colours, red and gold. Tommy's bruises are a shade of magenta, the grey is a desaturated red, the whites are just a very light shade of red
It's something i thought a lot about while drawing so i did want to mention it in more detail than just the id
ALSO. Tommy is wearing Techno's crown, and Tommy is also pretty much in the position a crown would be on Techno's head (if you squint a bit)
He's also holding onto Techno's ear - I didn't draw it very well, but he is, he's using Techno for stability, pushing against him with his foot to stay upright. And Techno is something solid for Tommy to dig his nails into, he is solid and he can and will be stability.
Tommy is just another voice in techno's ear, screaming blood for the blood god
And Tommy's pupils are just pinpricks, he isn't in control and he isn't calm. He's bruised and bloody, he is clinging onto the first thing he sees and trusts that it wont topple over. Tommy trusts because that is the only thing he can do, the only thing he can ever do. He's angry he's clinging on with his nails and teeth and blood but he is trusting.
NOW IM GONNA TALK ABOUT COLOURS AND THE COLOURS I USED BECAUSE :D!!!
Techno has dark red colours - Very dark, dark as in the colour of a lot of blood. A river flowing with blood would be near black and that is what Techno is. He is an endless stream of bloodshed he is an endless steam of violence because that is all he is. That is all he is, in this moment, at least, but this moment is all that matters right now. Right now, he is the blood god and he is the blade. He's a sword about to be stained and constantly being sharpened because he needs to be.
He NEEDS to be blood and he's ALWAYS been blood and he doesn't ENJOY being blood, no, he walked away from everyone to avoid it but for tommy!! He'll be that for Tommy because Tommy NEEDS him to be (<- that paragraph is from Epic but it was very accurate)
BUt ALSO Techno has light colours too. Not as obvious as Tommy's light colours (his shirt, his shoes, his hair) but it is still THERE. It's just hidden. The white, not stained (protected) in the inside of his cape near to his heart. Because Techno's heart is gentle but he has to fight to keep it like that, the outside of his heart (heart=cape just go with it this is the metaphor I'm going with it doesn't make sense but also shhh sure it does) is DARK it is VIOLENT
Inside his heart (cape. again. silly metaphor but its fine) he is the Blade - the letters reveal themselves with his cape blowing in his wind
I dont know what any of these words mean but maybe they mean something idk :D
ONTO TOMMY'S COLOURS v
hehe okay sooo Tommy has lighter red. Still very clearly red, but the cape he has is an imitation of Techno and it isn't nearly as stained. His cape doesn't hide anything, it doesn't hide him, its short and also the lightest obviously-red colour there is in the drawing. On him is also the only actual depiction of red blood and fresh injuries. He is BRUISED his pants are ripped and at the edges there is still-fresh blood. He's wiped the blood off of him he tried. but all he did was spread it from his nose to his knuckles. He is not violent but this makes him look violent, and it wasn't on purpose. Dripping from his head is blood, again, and all of it is his. He has a fresh bruise around his eye and the only bandage to the dripping blood from his head is Techno's crown. That is the closest thing to care he has right now - later, he will get bandages, but to him care is a symbol of blood. To him, care is Technoblade's sword and he doesn't view the bedrock around his braid as gentle in anyway, he views it as a rock that is special and the string is weak but it wont break because Techno tied it there, and that means it won't break. It means it can't break.
On Tommy is Techno's crown. Because Techno views him as an equal and is letting Tommy command him in this battle, because this is Tommy's fight. This is Tommy's fight, and Techno gives him his crown with trust on his gold-scarred hands and care and a promise that he will be there and fighting by his side. He believes in him, not because he needs to but because he does. He holds him steady because he just does and he acts as a weapon because that is what he does.
Ight that's all :) If anyone reads this far they have my hand in marriage and whatnot, adding tags then hitting post without rereading <3
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daffodil + chan
a song
the prompt: daffodil (a god bows before a mortal)
read it on ao3
---
"You have no power over me."
running through his hands like water, and suddenly the earth is not his to control. The skies do not turn with the twist of his head, lightning does not fork in the air when his eyes, dark as night and yet still lit by some unearthly light, fall upon you, his mouth wide as if to gasp for a breath he cannot take-
And yet, still, it shivers down your spine; the magic that draws you here even as you rip it apart, the prize of your conquest to rip the world into two.
"Take it back," he hisses through his teeth, the ground trembling with every syllable that slides down his tongue. You watch his mouth as it forms the words, the flash of teeth behind thin lips reminding you of the way that the swordsman you'd fought through to get here had smiled at you - the last of his seven challenges, the last of his demons, or angels, or citizens of the sprawling, damned city he claimed as his kingdom.
And here you stood, at the pinnacle of the eighth, and stared him in the eye without cringing away because now you knew the truth. Now you knew that what he whispered in the dark was a lie and what you saw with your eyes wasn't always true, and though he may be a god and a king amongst beings that you could never hope to rival, a god can only hold as much power as you give him. A god can only claim dominion over a beast that bowed to his dogma.
You see now that you are no beast. You are no believer in any lie he utters to the darkness.
"Take it back," he says again, the note of his voice changing. He pleads, his brow furrowing and his shoulders curling in as if waiting for the final blow. "Take it back now, before it's too late."
"I can't," you tell him, and you watch him fall to his knees, and you know that it's wrong and your heart pounds in your chest and it
like the ground does at the impact of his knees, crumbling into the pieces it was in when you first took his hand, alone on the side of the road with only one thing to call your own. And what was that thing, the little warmth you'd held to your chest in the dark and the cold? What had you traded away for the comfort of the house that crumbled around you now? Why had you destroyed him to get it back, where was it now, why did it not appear within his hands at this, the hour of his reckoning?
"Please," he spits into the cold ground, the dirt and the leaves and the curl of ivy that grows up the walls around you, old and ancient and not yet sprouted from its roots all at the same time. His hands curl in the dirt like he can reach down and pull the earth to him, like he can stop the wane of his power if he just tries to hold on a little bit tighter. "I know what you want, and I don't have it. I can't lose-"
Broken, fragile thing. Small god of limited earth, crouched at your feet like he might worship you instead. You'd thought him all-powerful once, and then you'd thought him severe and his servants and beasts and playthings petty, and then you'd thought him
because he'd smiled at you in the garden that bloomed from his own hands when you expressed your desire for a flower to tuck in the braid of your dark hair, and his hand had been soft in yours, and when he looked out across his kingdom and the clamouring faces of the people he'd brought to live there, he'd looked at them the same way that he'd looked at you.
Beneath your foot, the ground cracks, fracturing outwards like a spiderweb. It's your heart, you realise morosely, sinking from your chest and into the depths of the earth, disappearing with whatever he'd taken from you; and it was a wretched thing and it had betrayed you a hundred times over, but you still mourn at the loss of it and all the dreams it had carried with it. It blooms in your flowers in the corners of the room, embeds itself into the land and sings along with the song of his power, a thing you can hear but cannot touch, a beast once born that now does not belong to you.
"I'm sorry," he says, his breath like mist in the cold air, and even without your heart, you can't bear to see him so cold.
Your hands reach for him without permission, your body kneeling in the dirt before you can stand your feet firm upon the earth and refuse to move. He flinches away, but your fingers are soft upon his chin and the curve of his jaw, gentle when they brush the soft dip of his neck. "I only wanted to know what it was," you tell him with a voice that cannot hold itself steady. "I thought if you loved me, you would give it back." It's the only voice you have - you are not like him, or like Felix, speaking with many tongues. You don't have any power of your own.
"It's because I love you that I can't give it back." His voice is hoarse, every word a knife that he swallows without ever once flinching. "It's because I love you that I couldn't tell you what it was."
"But didn't I deserve to know?" you question. "Doesn't my life belong to me?"
Finally, his eyes rise, looking up at you with a fire that belies the cold of his skin. "Of course it does," he gasps, and his hand reaches up, dirt-stained fingers dragging at your cheek. "That's why I gave it to you, and I never asked for anything else."
"But you wouldn't give back what you took in the first place."
The sudden violence of his voice crumbles the walls and fractures the sky, the clouds blooming te dark colours of a bruise. The absence of his hand on your cheek stings in the cold; his face turns away, screwed up in regret and a pain he won't allow you to feel. You lurch forward before he can disappear, drawing him into your arms; stiff shoulders, spine of beaten steel, slow beat of a heart you once held in your hands.
He'd stood so tall and unmoving in the morning light, when you'd first walked down this path, and now in the dark of the setting sun and the ending of the earth, his weight slumps into your grasp, his resolve melting into the warmth of your body. "I didn't want you to suffer again," he says to the soft cotton of your shirt and the curve of your collarbone, his breath a whisper against your skin. "I couldn't watch that, when you asked me to make sure it would never happen again."
Surprise comes in the pause of your breath and the still of your arms, the jump of a heart you're not sure you still possess. "I asked you to make me forget?" you question the world behind his back, and into your neck, he sighs.
"You couldn't forget," he murmurs. "She was dead before I found you, and when I took her from your arms - you couldn't forget. There was nothing I could do to fix what had been broken. And then you begged me to let you forget, so I remembered her for you." He pauses, his throat hitching like he's swallowing something down. A sob maybe, or the tears he will never let fall. "I can't give her back though. She's not here anymore."
You push him upright, your hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face. Brushing away the hair that falls in his eyes, wiping at the blood that drips from the cut on his cheek. "Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, because the answer is incomprehensible. "Why did you let me go this far?"
"Because I was scared," he admits, and his teeth clench and his spine stiffens against the urge to hide away from you again. "Because I'm a wretched, evil, stupid thing who thinks they can-"
His words die in your throat; vile, wretched things that you store away to spit out later, into the ground where they belong. He is none of that; he is soft, and hesitant, until your fingers find the sharp curve of his hip and the lines of his back, dragging him closer and his lips open like there is nothing in the world to devour but you and
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@stonathanweek Day Two: Roomates AU/AU
Happy day two of Stonathan Week!
For this day, I give all of you art of my Itazura Na Kiss/Mischievous Kiss AU.
Reference image and blurbs based on summaries on the back of shoujo mangas under the cut.
I used an image from the original manga, Itazura Na Kiss as a pose reference (there are a lot of adaptations for this story. I could make an entire post about them but I won’t cause I have only seen two). I liked the pose better than what I was originally going to use because it would give off that classic shoujo vibe that I wanted.
Now here are the summaries. I wrote two of them. One from a Steve angle, and one from a Jonathan angle. I did this because I thought it would be fun. I hope they sound super cheesy because that is is what I was going for.
Steve’s
Eighteen year old Steve Harrington has it all. He’s the captain of Hawkins Academy’s Basketball team, quarterback on the football team, and the most desired boy in the whole school. But there is one thing he doesn’t have: the heart of his two year long crush, Jonathan Byers. Now that he’s graduating, Steve decided before Jonathan was out of his life forever to confess his deep love in the form of a letter. After pouring his heart out, all he got in return was a hard,flat no. At least it will be easier to leave for college now. But after coming home from hanging out with friends, Steve was surprised to see who was sitting on his couch. It was none other than the handsome Jonathan! Turns out his aunt and Jonathan’s mother were childhood friends and now due to unknown reasons, they will be living with them. Will this new living situation bring Steve closer to his crush? Or will it cause a further split between them?
Jonathan’s
Seventeen year old Jonathan Byers went through his first two years of high school in relative peace, until now when the most popular boy in school, Steve Harrington, confessed that he has a crush on him. Of course Jonathan rejected him, the social construct of popularity was something he hated and wanted to stay far away from. It seems like now that will be impossible. Due to unfortunate circumstances, Jonathan and his family will be living with Steve and his Aunt. With rumours spreading fast, he wants nothing more than to go back to the days when people barely even noticed him. Will Jonathan’s wish of going back to being an outcast come true? Or will the experience bring on new feelings?
Hope you all have a good rest of your weekend!
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