These be Messengers, an another species of mine that I worked on, it's pretty similiar to my GGNF since they're meant as kind of a subspecies, but these are branching out to a more mystical and fantasy side rather than being into the world of HTTYD
These are customs for someone on Instagram, and one of my latest designs
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I'm opening comms for February!
1 slot for general art. This includes character design, illustrations, and more!
2 slots for PHYSICAL merch! 3" sticker design in my sticker style w/ or w/o bg.
and unlimited bobbleheads! These are small little bite YCHs!
DM or reply for more info!!!
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Commission for a custom design!
Currently running a sale on ref sheets
Small: Was $60, now $45 (This post is a small)
Medium: Was $95, now $75
Mega: Was $150, now $135
My comms link is in my pinned post for more info!
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sitd snips - rush
Moira Hart is in so much shit.
The gun is still smoking and one of her bosses is dead and the other one is definitely going to kill her as soon as he finds out and she needs to be running but all she can do is stare at the slowly spreading pool of blood along the floor. Stare and think about how she really should have asked more questions before accepting a front desk position that didn’t request any form of ID and required her to carry a loaded gun around—but she was desperate and the pay was good.
And now one of her two very volatile bosses is dead on the floor.
She doesn’t know if this is Anthony or Milo. She’s never been able to tell. They’re fucking twins. They should color code or something.
Where had the kid run off to?
He was bleeding pretty bad and—
One of her bosses is dead on the floor.
Right.
Right.
She should be running.
She should be running but the door to the main hall slams open and the gun in her hands is raising again and she’s thinking less than she should be and—
—Shit has that guy been shot already?
“Wait!” He’s got his hands up in surrender before he’s all the way through the door, “Please—we just—oh fucking hell!”
And he’s noticed her dead boss.
Anthony.
Or Milo.
It doesn’t matter.
“Move and you go just like him.” Moira growls, grateful the panic has her voice dying and low. “Who the fuck are you?”
But there are already more faces peering around the door—more kids—jesus fucking christ.
“I think,” the guy says, slowly dropping his hands, eyes not leaving the corpse “we are on the same side.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Yup.” He’s still not looked back up. “Sarah take everyone else outside.”
“I’m not leaving you—” It’s a blonde girl who speaks, no older than fourteen or fifteen. Still, older than most of the people behind her.
“—wasn’t a suggestion sissy, I’ll be right behind you. And so will—” He finally looks back at her,
“—Moira.” She says, finally lowering the gun until it’s pointed at the floor again. Very nearly still pointed at Anthony-or-Milo. “Why are you looking at him like that?”
“Because I was really sure I’d killed him already.”
Shit.
Fucking shit.
Both Moira Hart’s bosses are dead.
“You’re bleeding.” She says again, because the spreading stain of bright red creeping from the guy’s stomach is hard to look away from and she’s pretty sure this is what shock feels like.
He shrugs.
Is she dreaming?
Was she too slow?
Is she the one dead on the floor and this is just some kind of messed up hallucination as her brain spasms itself to oblivion?
@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @maabonwrites / @blve0 / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @necros-writings / @poetinprose / @flyingbananasaur / @oldestenemy / @multi-lefaiye / @dotr-rose-love / @abalonetea / @albatris / @incandescent-creativity / @kaiusvnoir /
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