theswarmkeeper

[theswarmkeeper]

ARTFIGHT 2025

HIIII as i am joining artfight for a second year, i thought i'd throw my card on here for y'all to see!!

if anyone wants to follow me over there, you can find my profile here :]

[theswarmkeeper]

"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

[theswarmkeeper]

watch out lads i’m about to try to drrrraaaaaaaaaw somethin

[theswarmkeeper]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening

[theswarmkeeper]

drew another one! Really liked rendering this

speed paint under the cut

[theswarmkeeper]

Cause some people in my inbox were wondering what rose’s scholarship was for :3

[theswarmkeeper]

do fic readers know that their comments actually influence the course of the story sometimes? i don't mean in a "you need to write it this way because i say so 😡" type of comment, i mean when people are asking questions or really engaging with the plot and the themes in the comments they sometimes bring up things that i didn't even think of, or dig into parts of the story that i've overlooked, or get really interested/fixated on something i was going to just kind of glance over--and it has me going 'oh wait that's actually really interesting, that's a good point' and fully adding or tweaking or changing things about the story going forward. i'm literally adding an entire additional chapter to something right now because someone's comment had me like "oh i didn't dig into that as much as i could have." you have impact!

[theswarmkeeper]

yeah sorry we took your canon male character and made him a butch dyke. no yeah it didnt change his appearance hes just a butch dyke now. sorry. hes infinitely cooler now if that makes u feel better

[theswarmkeeper]

Éowyn, disguised as Dernhelm, among the Riders of Rohan ⚔️

Based on Eugéne Grasset’s “Jeanne chevauchant au milieu des hommes d’armes” (1894)

[theswarmkeeper]

hunger games confession. ever since i first read catching fire and they mentioned the career tribute that haymitch defeated in order to win the games, i've had a very clear picture of her in my head.

unfortunately, that meant the entire time i was reading sunrise on the reaping, this was how i pictured silka-

[theswarmkeeper]

Fall of Rome be damned these kids can dress except Adrien his dad picks out his outfits

[theswarmkeeper]

chloe you can't say that

[theswarmkeeper]

Going to scary zoo. Want anything?

[theswarmkeeper]

It won’t let me reblog EVERYONE LOOK

[theswarmkeeper]

You are the dancing queen. Young and sweet, Chancellor Palpatine

[theswarmkeeper]

a normal, boring life

alexandra ‘sandy’ lykaios ✶ 25 years later...

Sandy Lykaios had always wanted her life to be regular. Stereotypical, mundane. She had been a cheerleader, had average grades, an average boyfriend, and was planning to go to an average college. Of course, nothing ever goes the way you plan, and she was only gifted her peace once the worst was 25 years behind her.

After everything that she had to go through, she was determined not to let anything get in the way of her beautifully average life. Almost anything, that is.

It was dinnertime, and her home was full of sounds and smells, oil sizzling in a pan, the scraping of a spatula on metal, scrambled words from the television screen, a faint humming melody. Somewhere in another room, the gurgling of a baby mixed with the softer voice of a girl, a conversation in half.

Sandy- though she went by ‘Sandra’ more often these days- was finishing the last scraps of a dinner for four, sun-dried tomatoes and basil simmering with cream in a pan, pasta sitting warm in a pot on the counter. The humming was her, a song stuck in her head, something from her youth she couldn't quiet remember the name of.

Flipping a page in the cookbook, beaten, battered, and annotated in handwriting belonging to generations of her family, she turned down the stove, clicking the flame off. The spatula pressed to her lips softly, tasting before she serves, hands fumbling through a barely-sorted spice rack to add one final pinch of salt before it cooled too much to fix.

Footsteps down the hallway turned her head, a teenage girl carrying an infant in her arms. Her daughters. Evie, the elder, dark curls and darker eyes, an olive sun-tan that was starting to put her own to shame, and Sophie, the younger, mostly-bald and barely-teething. Her eldest daughter waved the youngest's arm to her, a cheeky smile making its way across her face.

“Look who's come to say hello!”

Sandra gasped, putting the pan to the side, careful not to leave it to burn, and hoisted Lisa from her daughter's arms, balancing it on her hip. The baby shrieked at the movement, an excited babble that drew a laugh from her Mother's throat.

“Well, hello you two, coming to see me just in time for dinner. How blessed am I?”

Evie grinned, snaking around behind her to steal a tomato from the saucepan, earning a gentle smack on the hand.

“Evie! Let me plate it first, don't put your hands in my sauce.”

Before her daughter could say anything to defend herself, the phone began to ring from the living room. Sandra saw her move to get it, but waved her off, passing Sophie back to her.

“No, you stole my food, you get to plate up dinner while I answer the phone. Tell your Father dinner is ready, and I'll only be a moment.”

Pressing a kiss to both of her daughter's temples, she strides into the next room, picking up the phone just on the very last ring without sparing a glance at the number on the landline. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't have picked up.

“Hello? Lykaios home, Sandra speaking.”

“Sandy.”

Her body freezes up just at hearing the voice, remembering it just as well as her own. Or had it been her own, once? She knows their agreement, she knows her own rules. She should hang up the phone.

“Harper. You know the rules, I told you never to contact me.”

“We have new orders.”

In the back of her mind there are flashes. Images of things that have happened before, some of them to her, some of them to her but through the body of another. Her mind blurs at the edges, just a little, and she knows that there is something awakening that should not have been touched.

She could feel the echo of something familiar, lips ghosting just past her ear, a hand gripping her chin, whispered orders from a girl who she revered like a God. Antlers and blood and furs, the teeth of a wolf dig into flesh, and three girls become one.

“She needs Lottie Matthews dead.”

[theswarmkeeper]

this one goes out to a certain middle schooler who wouldve been eviscerated on the spot by woke miraculous