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kingxgarm · 7 days
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A very special birthday
An OG Eclipse oneshot, for his birthday
"Today... why did it have to be today!?" Eclipse mumbled to himself as he walked to the center of the forest. His magic coursing through him. He was going to need it.
It was the day when the connection would be strongest. Where he could have the clearest communication. He really needed to talk to him…
After finally making his way to the perfect spot, the strongest spot, he stopped and dropped to his knees. Eclipse put his hands to the ground, directing his magic beneath the earth, beneath this plane of existence.
“Hear me, spirits. I wish to call upon one of you. I have experience with death herself. I am worthy of you. Come to me. I call to you, Eclipse.” Eclipse bent down to a bowing position. It would help draw him out.
A flash of light appeared as the ground began to glow. A chuckle could be heard in his own voice, but he knew it wasn't coming from himself.
“Well, well, well… I've never had anyone bow to me before. I have to say… I’m flattered you bothered.” Looking up only slightly but still appearing as low as possible, he saw what looked to be Sun’s feet, but… very different. Glowing. A bright gold. Too bright, in his opinion.
“Get up, let's get this over with.” Eclipse got up as quick as possible. He stared down at the original Eclipse. He was the same height as Sun, which was jarring.
It was very strange for the original, high, and mighty Eclipse to be… shorter. There was one major difference setting them apart, proving that the spirit before him was superior. He was very bright. Blinding almost. His golden skin glistened. His electric blue eyes felt like daggers they way they pierced Eclipse with his stare.
“Not even going to wish me a happy birthday? You should know I expect cake and party hats.” The spirit chuckled. For some reason, his carefree nature scared Eclipse. Maybe it was just the concept of standing in front of the original… The one who began and ruined his life…
“You don't talk much, do you?” The spirit cocked his head.
“No, I… just…”
“Intimidated?” The spirit smiled evily.
“No. I'm just thinking… I really needed to talk to you.” Eclipse's rays flared. Drawing back into his head before shooting out and reflecting downwards. He often got upset that he couldn't control his rays, but his emotions could.
“You have my full attention, copy.” The name cut deep for Eclipse coming from the original, but he already knew it was true.
“I want to know… everything. You're the Eclipse I have the most fragmented memories of. I want the full story. From very beginning to the end.” Eclipse's rays changed direction again. Embarrassed, he decided to ignore it from then on.
“That's quite an ask. Does this have something to do with… Lunar?” The spirit stopped smiling, but from his tone, you'd think he was.
“He's not the main reason, but I do think I deserve to know. It would make me a better copy, and that's all I want from you.” It sounded pathetic, but all Eclipses have experience with being pathetic. This one would understand.
“Really, now? I've been watching you Eclipse, and I have to say… At first, I was deeply disappointed… but now-” Eclipse interrupted the spirit.
“You're angry… I know I'm not like you at all… but-”
“Ha! You really think you know me better than I do? You really ARE trying to copy!” The spirit laughed a deep, bellowing laugh.
Eclipse sighed. This wasn't going anywhere.
“No. Now I feel… almost jealous, if I'm being honest.” Eclipse looked down at the spirit. Jealous?
“You are giving yourself the chance that I threw away, that I never really had. You have the opportunity at something greater. I don't really care if what you do next is evil or in Sun and Moon’s best interest. You're better than them. You're an Eclipse. You're better than everyone.”
It wasn't what Eclipse was expecting to hear, but… it did help. To hear the original Eclipse, the best Eclipse, say all this. It was… different.
“Now I wish I brought you a cake.” Eclipse smiled. “If you follow me back to the pizzaplex, I'll get you one.”
“I might take you up on that offer. We can walk and talk about… whatever you want, I guess.” The spirit shrugged but smiled back at Eclipse.
“Ok.” Eclipse began to walk away, but the spirit didn't follow.
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king-of-birds · 7 months
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"MY HANDS SHALL RELISH ENDING YOU... HERE. AND. NOW!"
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bastard-kingu · 10 months
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Headshot of my oc Kirby Fountas [ they/them ]
Doodled this for their character sheet for a tabletop-ish game with friends :-) !!
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cosmiicorvid · 2 years
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artfight attack for @nachosforfree !!
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boydonegood · 3 months
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hell yea man flip that mushroom !!!!!
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sabertoothwalrus · 9 months
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I wanted to revisit sock princess
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smoothjazzdigit · 10 months
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Have you guys seen that clip
Go off Kermit
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mebssann · 8 months
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local old man finally gets new clothes
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mild-goth-sauce · 11 days
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An informational comic I drew last year for my Comics 2 class, reposting it to my new account (had to jump ship from the old one unfortunately) with some minor grammar changes and learned my lesson in adding watermarks! Happy early pride :)
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hamletthedane · 4 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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stil-lindigo · 1 year
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hobie motherfuckin' brown!!!!!!
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kingxgarm · 1 month
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I am cringe, but I am free
Happy mermay
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I drew Magnifico as a mermaid
The autism has truly won
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angst-king · 8 hours
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more drawings
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sarakipin · 6 months
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🌲 🐁 👑 🕯️
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cosmiicorvid · 2 years
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✨✨✨
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dracula-smokes-weed · 6 months
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Drawing For Nothing is out!
Forgot to announce this here but the first ten chapters for Drawing For Nothing have been released! For those who missed the last post, this is a free, digital art book for animated films that were either canceled or bombed due to complicated issues.
https://www.drawingfornothing.com/
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More chapters are to come. A few highlights in the next installation will be My Peoples and Larrikins.
Also, if anyone wants to help research, feel free to send a DM! We're also working on a new cover that will feature custom artwork of various characters from these movies. If you think you got what it takes to draw in the style of another artist, we would appreciate the help!
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