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recycled-phantoms · 4 months

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My Artist’s Year in Review

Unfortunately, I haven’t put out much art this year. So I’m using my favourite sketch pages from this year instead of pieces. I’ve had a lot of struggles w/ my mental health and personal real-life problems, so doing full pieces seemed a daunting task. But hopefully in this new year, I’ll be able to do more full pieces!

Pages (and artist’s notes) under the cut!

December 2022

This was a difficult time for me motivation-wise, and this was the only full page I made at that point, as most of my (now-lost) art was digital then! My favourite sketch here is the Grant Cohen in blue at the bottom.

2. January 2023

Another especially-difficult month for me. Again, the only full page I was able to fill, unfortunately. I really like the Norman in the top-left corner; he was so fun to draw!

3. February 2023

My bestie (@harmonyblossom19 btw, hey girl) had said that MatPat gave off Fred ScoobyDoo vibes, so I drew their fusion—dubbing him “FredPat” shortly thereafter. It was the best of February’s doodles, though I’m still not proud of it. This was around the time I moved here from my old blog!

4. March 2023

Do y’all remember The Orchard Mystery Series, that set of OCs I had a while ago? Well, here's the main two characters–Dick and Melanie! I wanted to try a washed background and layering the sketch on top of it—though I should have looked up some tutorials before taking on this task lmao

5. April 2023

I posted this one on my Instagram (@/biblically_accurate_art btw if you want to see my art)! I got back into TMA after finally getting over the hump with some depression. Ngl, absolutely love drawing s3 Jon.

6. May 2023

Ace but with a binder. Nothing else to say here, except that this was when I rediscovered Yugioh. These suckers ware going to get me through uni istg….

7. June 2023

More OCs! These guys are part of my Arthuriana-based universe, The Quest for the Atlas Dias / The Atlas Stone. Meet Sol, Lyra, and Finnigan!

8. July 2023

The only complete page I have for July lol. I’m especially proud of Ryou in the Spotify colours here!

9. August 2023

I drew this after coming home from the camping trip that inspired the DMAU! I picked my favourite (left) and least-favourite (right) outfits, and drew my blorbos in them. Yugi’s bag is still my favourite bag I own irl to this day.

10. September 2023

My favourite page out of this collection fr. I did fuck up Season 0 Yami/Maou’s hair, but the whole page is just a joy to look at. Tbh, I wish my current style worked with this type of page format.

11. October 2023

My birth month babeyyyyy! And to celebrate ya boy’s 18th, I decided to draw some really nice-looking Ryous, and a full-body Yugi! The Ryou doodles are my favourite here, purely for the way the hair looks.

12. November 2023

THIS! 👏 FUCKING! 👏 PIECE! 👏

I love every aspect of this piece to DEATH! The way Atem is looking at Yugi, their facial expressions, the clothes, the pins on Yugi’s shirt! This is definitely one of, if not the best piece here.

13. December 2023

This is all of the OCs I’ve stuck together for various universes. Lilith and Star are from a D&D-inspired universe called Spires of Heavenly Light and Shadow, and of course, Lyra and Sol are from TQFTAD. I’m so in love with the Star doodle here.

This was a train wreck of a year, but I think I pulled myself out of it pretty well. I hope your years have been just as great, if not better!

#biblically-accurate art #my art #oooh cool art #yugioh #batim #the quest for the atlas dias #the atlas stone #tqftad #tas #batdr #artist’s year in review #artistic improvement my beloved #artists on tumblr #happy New Years 🥂

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hoonhrt · 3 years

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jay — as your boyfriend

ive been in my jay feels HEAVY recently, i had a dream about him recently where we went to paris together (wip?) and it was so cute im still thinking about it cries jay is so perfect

jay would would def be the ‘i hate everyone but you’ boyfriend

not his fault the rest of the world annoys him except you

he would be the most caring boyfriend but in subtle ways

scolds you for not wearing enough layers when its cold, then gives you his coat

brings/cooks you food every time he comes over just incase you didn’t eat

jay can be a little intimidating, so you might be a little nervous to ask him for things

but he can tell the slightest of discomfort from you and will immediately try to fix whatever is going on

always lets you borrow his clothes

to the point where he’ll purposely leave his clothes (that are sprayed in his perfume btw) at your house

he’ll tell you random facts he learns throughout the days

his favourite nicknames to call you are angel and baby

late night drives. always. literally any time the both of you are free, he sneaks you out of the house to go on drives with him

those drives can range from deep talks, laughing for no reason at all and comfortable silence

his love language is music <33

he creates multiple playlists for you but will never tell you

cant catch him simping ever

UNTIL, one night he passes you his phone to play music and you see a playlist named “for my one and only angel”

he turned beet red when you showed him

HUGS <333 SO MANY HUGS <333

jay just loves having you in his arms

whether it be hugs, cuddling or having his arm around your shoulder, he just has to have you in his arms

it makes him feel safe knowing you’re safe with him (CRIES)

he loves kissing your neck

not in sexual type of way

he just likes kissing the skin there

he’ll do it when you guys are cuddling and he’s laying on your chest

or when he gives you back hugs he’ll reach down a place a kiss there bub just loves neck kisses <33

he thinks its so cute if you squish his face so his lips push out and you kiss him smack dab in the middle

he gets all giggly

but kisses with him are either very soft or very passionate

looks into your eyes, then stares at your lips, and then back to your eyes

IFGBDSIUFBGEWIGFH IM GOING TO SCREAM

what can he say he just loves kissing you so much

he likes when you hold him while you sleep, it makes himself feel needed

LOVES when you play with his hair

he’ll fall asleep instantly

its very soothing to him

instead of you holding his hand, you rather link arms with him or wrap your arm around his

or if you grab his hand and press little kisses to his knuckles

HE FINDS IT SO CUTE AND WILL LITERALLY SQUEAL

he takes pictures of you without you knowing ALL THE TIME

you’ll be doing the simplest tasks like washing the dishes or doing homework

*snaps a picture and makes it his wallpaper*

we all know jay got that $$$

he’ll buy things just cause it reminded him of you

and will just show up to your house like hey i bought this for you

and you’ll just be wtf jay dude

helps you with your outfits

will straight up tell you if something is ugly or not

he also likes matching outfits but not like exact matching

more like colours, patterns or style

MATCHING JEWELRY>>>

he’d never take it off

DEF WOULD GET MAD IF YOU CALLED HIM BRO LMAOOOOO

likes when you play games with him

he can get competitive (which makes everything more fun)

he gets jealous

like, very jealous

if someone even tries to look at you the wrong way, he’ll already be giving them the deadliest glare

scary jay

he just wants to protect you thats all :(( youre his baby :((

overral jay is the type of boyfriend who will love you with all his heart and will find multiple ways to show it without really saying it out loud

sigh i love him so much

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unicyclehippo · 4 years

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prompt: beau is *brilliant* but is flippant and hesitant to show it. sometimes the nein forget until they're reminded of this. aka beau is more than an athletic prodigy & it shows (i absolutely adore your writing btw & im so so grateful you share it with us)

human feat: prodigy—you have a knack for learning new things

it’s blazing hot, the blue sky burned nearly white, and the whole world smells like sulphur and iron and grass. it smells hot, like the world is one careless spark away from bursting into flame.

beau is eight and follows behind the new carpenter from the main house down to the woodshed, where she definitely isn’t supposed to be, and certainly not in the pretty dress she’s been dragged into. she flits from tree to tree, crawls on hands and knees behind the low brick wall that leads down to fields left and the stables and sheds to the right.

‘afternoon, miss beauregard,’ odwin calls to her as she contemplates how to sneak to the next portion of the wall. ‘you feel like standing upright or d’you prefer to wander with a new perspective?’

beau sighs. stands, brushing dust off her hands onto her dress. she frowns over at odwin. ‘how did you know i was there? i thought i hid really well.’

‘aye, you did. didn’t see you once.’

‘then,’

‘my deaf mum would’ve heard you coming, though.’

‘oh.’ beau crinkles her nose. ‘alright. i’ll work on that. what are you doing today?’

‘taking you back up to the house, i imagine.’

‘don’t bother, i’ll just leave again.’

‘i have t’take you back, miss beauregard...’

‘no you don’t. i’ll tell them i made you entertain me. if they even ask, which they won’t. are you doing anything fun?’

‘fun? aye, i suppose so. i’m using the oak wood we got in the last shipment to put together more casks. to put your fathers wine in, see.’

‘i thought the wine was bottled.’

‘it is. eventually. first though, well, after the brewing and fermenting, however that’s all figured, the wine sits nice and tight in the casks for, oh, at least a year. down in the cellars, nice and cool and dark. then he bottles ‘em and sends ‘em out.’

‘huh. and you make the barrels?’

‘aye, some of them.’

‘can i help?’

odwin sucks thoughtfully on his teeth, eyeing the girl for a moment. her dress—pretty as it once was—is already ruined from crawling in the dirt, a tear or two where she’s snagged it in the fence. it isn’t his place to say it but the girl isn’t suited to the indoors. it certainly isn’t his place to say it, but the girl isn’t suited to the parents she has.

he should say no.

‘you’ll be careful,’ he tells her, fuzzy brows settling sternly over dark eyes. ‘my tools aren’t play things, you realise.’ she nods quickly. ‘and you’ll stay put and just watch. i’m not having you lose a finger because of me.’

‘is that likely?’ she asks, intrigued.

such a strange child, he thinks, not for the first time.

‘well, no, not with what i’m doing today,’ he admits.

she steps up right beside him, eight years old and already nearly taller than him. she seemed to grow like a weed—tall and haphazard, all knees and elbows, and all of a sudden. he could’ve sworn she had been a half foot shorter only last week.

‘it’ll be fine then,’ she tells him, and smiles wide enough to show off the gap in her teeth, off to the right where she’d lost the last of her baby teeth.

odwin sighs. hopes this won’t lose him his position. so long as no one sees, it should be fine, right?

the woodshed is large, made for the human who had held the position before him. half-finished barrels, lids, and piles of the untreated wood have been placed around the outskirts of the room. to one side is a table and shelves with his tools and aprons; he ties his around his waist and points to a low stool.

‘you can sit there. don’t—‘ he pulls a bullhead hammer from her hands. ‘don’t touch anything.’

beau sighs. sits.

he endeavours to ignore her, working slowly at the task at hand, but it proves rather difficult. the girl has a pair of eyes on her like nothing else, crystal clear blue and intent on everything around her. for the first few minutes, she had scoured the inside of the shed, noting everything and its place, and then her attention had settled on him and never shifted.

‘how come you’re not bending the planks?’

‘staves.’

‘what?’

‘they’re called staves,’ odwin tells her. pauses a moment to wipe his brow. glancing over at his bare furnace, he can see it’s almost ready for him to begin softening one of the more complete barrels. ‘if i set ‘em in a second hoop, they’d crack. or splinter, and we don’t want that, no miss.’

beau just hums. adjusts her position—seated now upon a small barrel instead of the top-low foot stool—and settles still once more.

it goes on for some time, her asking the occasional question and him answering as best he can—sometimes with little more than a simple, this is how i was taught to do it, and she seems satisfied with that.

finally, when he rolls his shoulders out from their hunch, hammering the staves into alignment, he casts a look over at the girl. pretty layered dress all a mess, a healing scratch on her cheek from an old adventure, scuffed boots and loose laces peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirts. he reverses his hold on the hammer, holds it out to her.

‘care to give it a go?’

blue eyes light up, lightning in a bottle. she doesn’t take a moment to leap up, doesn’t question it for a second.

before too long, with surprisingly few corrections, beau has helped him to put together the first half of a functional barrel. they set it over the low fire, allowing it to soak and soften and eventually to toast, and he draws her back, offers her a cup of water. the jug is warm, almost hot from having sat on his work table all afternoon, and he thinks to apologise for it but the girl doesn’t seem to mind.

strange, curious girl.

‘you did very well today,’ he tells her. ‘you’ve a knack.’

‘what’s a knack?’ she asks, eyes narrowed and lips all a scowl like she expects it to be bad.

‘natural skill. my wife calls it a quickness. somethin’ you pick up real fast. maybe,’ he says, corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile, ‘you were a cooper in a past life.’

beau smiles, a mightily awkward expression on her face. ‘i like making stuff,’ she tells him, and odwin watches her relax into a real smile, big and unrestrained, when he simply nods.

‘learning a language is something that will require your full attention, miss lionette. tardiness will not be permitted, and a reluctance to practice will not earn you a reprieve—just more work. am i understood?’

her teacher is a strict woman and reminds beau of a spider. short sleek black bair clings tight to her scalp, and her dowdy grey school marm attire is made of some material that seems fuzzy and sharp all at once. a pair of glass lenses sit at the end of a barely there nose and she looks down at beau through them.

‘am i understood, miss lionette?’

‘huh? oh, yeah.’

‘you will speak in proper sentences in my classroom,’ the spider tells her, before launching into her first lesson.

beauregard is ten and school-bound. it had taken a full decade, apparently, for her dad to reluctantly agree that yup, she’s the one he’s got, and he should make the most of it by actually letting her learn things he would’ve taught the son of his dreams. bookkeeping, mathematics, finances, whatever. all beau takes from it is that the wood shed, the lake, the stables are now all well outside of her reach , locked as she is under the spider’s attention, and so she has to resort actually learning things to keep herself occupied.

the days pass in piles of paper and scratched tally marks on the lid of her desk.

she holds up a hand, ink splattered as usual. she can’t seem to get the grip right, an ache building in the fleshy bit of her palm after only a short while.

‘miss lionette,’ the spider says after a moment, making her wait. ‘you have a question?’

‘i’m done. can i leave?’

‘done?’ the spider coughs a laugh. ‘you had twenty problems, miss lio—‘

‘i’ve done ‘em. can i go now? please?’ she tacks on, remembering that sometimes helps.

the spider’s brows tug high on her forehead. she waves a hand. ‘bring them here.’

beau pushes back. her chair scrapes on the stone floor and the spider winces, an admonishment on her lips that beau ignores in favour of the hopeful flutter in her belly that she’ll actually get to go outside today. maybe even make it to the lake before the sun sets! catch that toad she saw in the reeds last time. she hands the papers over, watches the spider’s mouth pinch in distaste, examining the ink splotched pages. then, little by little, the distaste fades, and her brows crawl even higher.

beau fidgets with the tight collar of this stupid dress she’s in and flicks her eyes to the window.

‘these are well done, miss lionette,’ she hears the spider say.

darts a look up into magnified eyes, a yellow green the same colour of the lake reeds. ‘so i can go?’

‘do you enjoy learning halfling?’

beau huffs a sigh. ‘it’s fine.’ she bites her tongue so she doesn’t ask again. she never gets things when she asks for them too many times; it’s rude, or whatever.

‘you have grasped the basics of it very quickly.’

she shrugs. ‘it’s easy. there’s only four more letters than in common, and they always go with the same other letters. and the grammar is basically the same, except for questions.’

‘ah—yes. that’s very true.’ the spider taps beau’s pages of work into something more regular and sets them aside. then, folding her hands on the desk in front of her, she smiles. ‘you may go play. but i will see you here again promptly, miss lionette,’

‘after lunch tomorrow, i know,’ beau agrees, already breathless with excitement, and she ignores the spider’s reprimand as she tears from the room to her bedroom, struggling out of her dress and into better clothes, things no one minds if she gets them muddied or torn.

the monastery is grim and too much like the prison she was just bought out of for beau’s liking. the only thing it has going for it is the whole learning how to punch people thing, and that beau is fine with throwing her whole self into.

she stands rigid as a statue on the borders of the training room, which echoes with shouts of exertion and pain from the other monks. trainees, all with new crisp vestments like the ones she’s wearing, all with their heads shaved too. beau’s eyes are the only part of her that aren’t still, swivelling nearly out of her head as she sees the monks aren’t all human or elven—she sees halflings, half orcs, tieflings even among the intake.

‘here.’ a rough hand shoves a staff into her hands. smooth wood, about six feet. there’s a sudden stabbing pain as she holds it—the wood is white and all too familiar: oak. her trainer doesn’t notice or doesn’t care and she sweeps her own staff down to crack painfully against beau’s ankle, making her jump to the left.

‘hey, watch it,’

‘you watch it, greenstick,’ she retorts, face wide and stoic as a fucking brick. ‘guard.’

she doesn’t tell beau how to do that, but beau has never needed anyone to tell her how to do anything.

for that first day, beau earns bruises and smarting fingers. the day after that, she earns perhaps one less. on the third day, she realises that she can hit them back. a moment after she thinks it finds her trainer reeling back, catching beau’s staff in one hand. she rubs at her sore jaw with the other.

her trainer grins. tosses beau her staff back. ‘usually takes greensticks longer ‘n that. good work. guard.’

‘what are you working on?’

‘ah.’ caleb slips a hand over the spines of the books he clutches to his chest. beau doesn’t read too much into it, especially not when he immediately then offers them to her to look at. it’s a protective thing. she gets it.

‘algorithum’s of natural entropy and evolution, transmutation theorem’s, grades three and four, the power of herbalism in ritual—this is for nott’s thing?’

‘ah,’ caleb says again. she obviously had interrupted a train of thought, bursting in on his wandering through the stacks like this. ‘y-yes, yes in a way. and research, always.’

‘cool.’

he takes back his books. blinks owlishly at her.

fuck. she misses owl frumpkin.

‘need any help?’

‘certainly,’ he agrees, more readily now that he has the precious books back where they belong—in his hands, that is, not in their home on the shelves—and he waves to the place at his side for her to join him.

‘wanna tell me what you’re thinking about? maybe i just happen to know some shit about it. at least i can keep an eye out later.’

‘hmm? oh. well, there is—there is a spell, i believe, that halas has... ah... redesigned? it is an advanced form of polymorph—‘

‘polymorph two.’

caleb chuckles. ‘true polymorph, it is called. in some circles. i do not - i am not capable of casting it, but i can recognise it’s...equation. in what i have seen.’

‘mhm.’

‘i believe that if i am able to - to blend it in some way with another spell, perhaps an illusion or...’ caleb trails off, drags a finger over his chin thoughtfully. the scratch, scratch, scratch of his nail over stubble is the only accompaniment to their journey, other than their quiet steps. the library is not busy so late in the evening. not tonight.

‘what about a clerics spell?’ beau suggests. ‘it’d be crossed, ah, spell work—i dunno what you call that—but if you found a way to mix a revivify maybe? or resurrection?’

she stops when she realises caleb has stopped. his eyes—blue, like her own, but so often cool, glacial almost, are nearly white with the fire sparked in them.

‘beauregard,’

‘is that stupid?’

‘it’s brilliant! i don’t know if it will work, it would be mixing magics in a way i have never attempted, but if - the ritual could be prayer, or i have seen - for scrying and communing and the like, certainly rituals are not foreign to clerics,’ he mutters, accent thick as he grows more and more excited about the potential as he says several times. he shifts the stack of books into the crook of one arm and wraps the other around beau’s neck, pulling her in to plant a whiskery kiss to her forehead. ‘brilliant!’

‘ew.’

‘dorok! the undercommon is unfamiliar but the word is recognisable—halt!

the nein freeze, ice dripping down their spines as they consider being caught here in the shadow glade, far too close to the beacons for any deception to get them out of. turning, they take in the sight of the guards in their dark, jagged armour. the obvious mistrust on their faces. seeming holds over the nein’s forms, keeping them in their drow appearances, but it hadn’t hit until precisely this moment the drawback of not understanding the fucking language.

‘akarish iv’viosk na-doth rakki ishnau,’ beau calls back to them. her form is bulkier, typical of a drow warrior, and with proud angular features. her tone, though they cannot understand her words, drips with importance.

‘what the fuck is she doing?’

‘shh, shut up,’ jester hisses. ‘just nod when she nods.’

beau nods. the nein nod as well.

the guards narrow their eyes. speak quickly to beau, tone a little less strident, more conversational. she responds in kind and after a long, tense moment, the guards lift their spears and, with a nod, step away.

‘hey!’ drow fjord whispers when they’re gone. ‘what was that! that was fucking sick!’

‘very impressive,’ caleb agrees. ‘but let us keep moving.’

‘definitely. they won’t be gone forever,’ beau agrees. ‘thanks for the seeming, caleb, they can’t see that i’m fucking dripping with sweat. dude—‘ drow beau slaps a hand against fjord’s chest, her eyes wide with only slightly exaggerated fear, ‘they would’ve killed us. like, straight up.’

‘i know! that’s what we thought would happen!’

‘it would have! but you know undercommon now?’ jester says, and asks.

‘yeah, i picked up a couple books and talked to some people while we were in rex - uh - the capital,’ she says carefully, in case the name of the city might set off an alarm.

‘you learned undercommon?’ yasha interjects softly. ‘just like that?’ she clicks her fingers.

‘kinda? i’m a bit rusty,’

‘you’re obviously fine if you tricked those guards,’

‘i think i used the past tense for gardening—oh yeah, i told them we are gardeners so cad, you’d better tell me all you know about, i dunno, tubers.’

‘i’d love to!’

‘sweet. let’s move, people!’

#cr tag #tagging my stories #prompt fill #dont worry i will put a read more as soon as i get home

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