Hello all! Sorry for the lack of an update this week! I had a trip to visit family this past weekend and instead of stressing out and risking the dreaded burnout to keep to the schedule, we'll just be skipping this one!

We'll pick right back up with the next page on April 22- see you then!

Saturday Night Ficlet

because what better time to be kinky on main?

I wrote this all in a rush; I like the idea of it as a framing device for Whumptober, where each prompt becomes a little story. I am not certain it would work since it would probably wind up a big mix of Crowley, Aziraphale and various OCs of mine and as I write this...I am less discouraged, lol.

Also I don't really want to to wait until October, so I might just use old prompts, or a prompt generator or something. Or not! Anyway, in case it never comes to fruition, please enjoy this cute little framing story introducing the Sapphic Kingdom of Cute Hurt/Comfort Princesses In Need Of Comfort and Crowley Who Gets To Live Her Best Life

Once upon a time, not very long ago and not very far away, there was a kingdom. It was a very happy kingdom, rich in natural resources and with strong trading links to other kingdoms, so that the people who lived there could get anything they wanted. There had been centuries of peace and prosperity, and there was enough for everyone.

The kingdom was ruled by an elected Parliament, but had a number of royal families who could be trotted out for this or that. The royal families lived well, but not that much better than the ordinary people, and they were considered a kind of charming but not terribly useful national treasure (with one exception, that will be laid out in a moment). The families themselves were content with their lot, and were usually quite big and sprawling, which was good for many reasons.

For, you see, it wasn't just luck and good guidance that kept the kingdom so peaceful and rich, although that came into it. There was a curse on those royal families, that ensured the prosperity of the whole kingdom.

Those families tended to run to girl children, to a remarkable degree. Even some children who had been born boys later decided they were girls. And very nearly all of them found they only liked other girls, to the extent that some of the royal families exclusively consisted of women. They had figured out a number of ways to keep the family lines going, and girls kept coming, all of them growing up beautiful and strong and wise and falling in love with each other and continuing the lines.

That wasn't the curse, of course. That was just happenstance – the curse, though, fell on those beautiful women. Their kingdom would be rich and peaceful and happy, but the royal girls would all, to a woman, be remarkably unlucky and accident-prone. They would have happy, healthy childhoods, with only the usual mishaps, but inevitably on their eighteenth birthdays – well, they wouldn't all come a cropper, but many of them would on that blessed day. And would keep getting injured, in greater or lesser ways. They all knew it would happen, and were cheerful enough about it; it was their way to keep their friends and loved ones safe, so no use crying over it.

Because of this, all these sweet princesses were nicknamed angels. First by their families, but now everyone knew the princess angels, and knew what awaited them. The accidents that befell them were never fatal, though sometimes were very serious. These women were loved even more, and given everything they needed to live a full and happy life, and often their pick of wives – and it wasn't unusual for them to pick more than one!

So the kingdom ticked over, and the princess angels picked up this or that broken limb or a nasty gash or illness or, more rarely, something more serious. But someone needed to care for all the clumsy, accident-prone women, to see to their every need and keep them happy and on the road to healthy.

And that person was Antonia Crowley, and she was very, very, very good at her job.

Crowley had trained as a healer, of course, though mostly now it was her staff that did the bone-setting or stitching or what-have-you. She loved the hands-on stuff, but was often too busy to personally attend to her flock of beloved princesses in that particular manner – for she did love them all very much, and in turn they simply worshipped her. Crowley was very young to run what was effectively a private hospital, but very, very good at what she did, and the women who came through loved having a pal around their own age to see to them and cheer them up. There were rarely more than three or four in at a time, and Crowley liked it that way; it was important to her to give them all individual attention and really become friends. She adored tending her friends and – let's be honest now – lovers, making sure they wanted for nothing whatsoever, that they weren't in pain and that they had plenty of amusements to pass the long hours as they recovered from whatever had sent them to the beautiful, sunny house.

For it really was more of a house than a hospital, with a great big airy room full of huge, comfortable beds each of them made up with soft sheets and blankets, and able to accommodate a range of needs. There were lovely curtains that could be drawn for privacy, and a few private rooms for those who requested it, but of course all the princesses knew each other and were good friends. Or more than that – Crowley had already seen two couples meet in her house and marry as soon as they were all in one piece again, and she'd only been here for a few years! She had cried buckets at their weddings, and although one of them had already returned – for the curse was with them all their lives, though it was the younger women who seemed to feel it the most – she was already figuring out how couples could stay together, if they wished, when one of them needed to recover under her care. She wasn't the first person to run this kind of house, but she was determined to be the very best, and the angels all agreed that she probably was already.

The big main room was kept perfectly clean at all times, the linens changed every day and sweet-smelling flowers perfumed the air. Crowley's office was at one end, and it was so easy for her to stick her head out or, without meaning to, spend all day caring for her sweet angel-friends, playing little games with them or teasing someone or crawling into bed to cuddle someone who was feeling sad and sorry for herself. The women there were sometimes sad; they were in pain and they were hurt or ill, but Crowley tried to make their time away from home full of sweetness and love.

On one side of the big room ran a great sheltered veranda where her princesses could go and get a bit of fresh air, walking or hopping or wheeling out to take in the sights of the beautiful garden and the forest beyond, or enjoy the sound of the rain on the glass roof. At the other end, far from Crowley's office, were the great bathing-rooms, full of everything anyone might need to help them clean up around whatever was healing.

The other side of the hall, opposite the veranda, was a courtyard with a covered walkway that lead to another building, just as big. This one held the great kitchen that churned out delicious things to tempt flagging appetites and encourage healing – Crowley was a great believer in having little nibbles on hand at all times – and it produced three square meals a day for everyone in the complex, to say nothing of a morning and afternoon snack, regular tea and coffee service, and a late-night little treat for anyone awake for it. There were also great store-rooms with anything that might be needed, always kept fully-stocked and ready. Then, next to that, were the smaller treatment rooms – a place to be examined, diagnosed, to have bones set and cuts stitched and hurts tended to before the patient was gently wheeled in complete comfort to her bed. There was even a room for surgeries to be carried out if required, for rarely a princess was so seriously hurt that she would wake up surrounded by friends and lovers, Crowley sitting at her bedside and holding vigil until the woman was awake and knew what had happened to her, and what her prognosis was.

So the happy kingdom continued, content that its angels were being tended to – for though many of the women did seem remarkably clumsy, the curse was in a way their gift to the people, and they were often proud of their hurts as they lay in bed day after day, passing the time until they were declared well again, and could go home – at least, until their next accident, or until a special friend or lover was hurt and needed visiting. And so Crowley cared for her friends, and she was very, very, very happy indeed -- though little did she know how much joy, and how much love, awaited her with one angel in particular.

the baby has one parent's little face marking thing and the other's coat because they're a little horse family the world is a beautiful place

advocatus diaboli

Yuuji, Fushiguro and "Murder is Okay" Maki from Jujutsu Kaisen! Guess what I've been binge reading these last 2 days.

“Take my hand” a comic for NaruMitsu Week 2023

day 1 - lies & secrets - 2 - 3 - 4

Heyyyyy, y'all like trolls?

Bunch of random little doodles to try and learn to draw them all

.

(Please do not use, trace, or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me first, thank you <3)

Ok I think I finally have Nari down lmao- Love drawing him mad and kinda nuts in particular~

Extra!

Had to draw some reactions oisdhfsdih

That makes my Miku Movie Marathon for this year’s #MikuAllWeeku! If anyone has a favourite from the set, I'd love to hear it. Until next time...  

have some focallette fluff before they go thru divorce / neuvillette becomes widowed (idk) in the next genshin update!!!!1!1!

drakon slayer

Anyway, Terry Pratchett invented the Our Blessed Homeland / Their Barbarous Wastes meme, almost 25 years before Tom Gould got around to it

made a post a while back on how javert's suicide is often poorly portrayed in film adaptations to the point of accidental comedy, and how the 1978 movie in particular is the most unhinged example. audio warning for a loud trumpet blast, don't turn up your volume

A page from my post-Botw Zelink comic. Each chapter covers key moments of my headcanon. I don't think my comic is super revolutionary in terms of story because there is so much fan content out there and im super classic and vanilla... but i dont care. I'm having fun creating my own take on what happened. This project is a time consuming blackhole and I draw it all out of order because I have no discipline whatsoever 😭 😂 It was originally just random black and white pages here and there with no cohesions, like my stand alone illustrations... but the illustrations became pages. The project is basically me fan-servicing my own self. 😂😂

Then it exploded, i've been adding color, cleaning up my panels, pimping the backgrounds.

I still unsure on which platform i will make it available to read. The friends who got my out of my shipping closet are screaming to me to print a fanzine, but i'm lazy hahaha. Might do a patreon eventually, idk.

Oh yeah, this is a panel from the chapter where Zelda and Link go back to Korok forest to put the Master Sword back in it's pedestal... I'm old, i played the old games. One of my BotW nitpics was that it didnt include the classic moment where the sword rests once again, like in ALttP and OoT. I like traditions okay!!!! Cheers!!!

hlvr based things :]