Gift For @snowflakekitty-133~

Gift for @snowflakekitty-133​~

this looked better in my head but i still think he looks cute uwu

i have so many new friends i can give gifts to :0

Happy Valentines day!

so what i was trying to do was do a piece of the clawford brothers from midnight cinderella but i didnt get to finish it all ^^;;

 but i did get all of Leos coloring done so heres that

and then the lineart since i think its neet

Happy Valentines Day!~ <3

Gift for @lovingsiriusoswald​-

some times drawing this trees hair is fine and then sometimes it sucks- that was one of these days lol

other commissions 🔥

Hey, I have open commissions yet!

bust 25usd

halfbody 35usd

fullbody 45 usd

extra characters + 50%

Ray x Lancelot: No salvation

Something that has been stuck in my head ever since I heard this song. So enjoy a little… something :>

tagging @toloveawarlord and @5-of-spades​ (not in the face please)

Title: No salvation Fandom: Ikemen Revolution Characters: Lancelot Kingsley; Ray Blackwell Genre: angst Word Count: 1090

The wind roared in their ears, loud and merciless, cutting like an invisible blade, paying no mind to the flesh, reaching deep within to hurt their every nerve. Or maybe it would in any other circumstances. Right now it was nothing more than an unplanned hindrance that was incapable of clouding whatever was unleashed upon them. The storm that no one could have prevented and no one could stop.

The leaves falling off the trees, swirling around them, creating the most beautiful background to the events far from any beauty in the most grotesque way. The memory of the earlier rain came in small, cold drops going tap-tap in the dead silence, the echo spreading throughout the whole forest.

It wasn’t only the ghost of the rain. It was something else, running down the cheeks streaked with chilliness, caving a river before finding the edge of the face and streaming down to the soil that wouldn’t bloom for the years to come.

What followed was a scream – primal and unbidden as two swords clashed in a rain of hot sparks dancing through the steel. And again. And again. And again. And every time the same sequence: parry and step back. Even though the arms were getting weaker with each strike. Even though the legs refused to carry the weight anymore. Even though each breath was nothing more than a sharp pain shooting through the system like a lightning.

“Fight back!”

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