almost forgot that one

some doodles from tonight of @oztrichbunz‘s precious water-themed Genos who I’m absolutely going to draw more of in the futureヽ(´ヮ´)ノ

@anjelzjelly129 I’ve fallen in love with your drawings of Genos with an undercut and I used that concept here except with a ponytail (which I am,, very bad at drawing,,,, I have almost never drawn hair pulled back uughhguh)
now that the artblock is gone, the laptop is fixed, and I’m no longer sick (surprise, I had a 48 hour flu) I can FINALLY DO THINGS AGAIN


The Banner-bearer and the herald of Manwë, 
I did the upper one a few weeks ago and i kinda liked it so i might as well post it.
I always imagined him about a head taller than Manwë (about 11 feet tall??), always standing next to him like a body guard or something :3
that’s manwe in the bottom btw


  • *Qrow and winter are at a meeting, sitting at a table.*
  • Qrow: *Kicks Winter's leg*
  • Winter: *Silent anger*
  • Qrow: *Kicks some more*
  • Winter: *Looks to see if anyone noticed. No one did. She is alone in this hell*
  • Qrow: *Kicks more*
  • Winter: *Under her breath* Stop that.
  • Ironwood: Did you say something, Winter?
  • Winter: No sir. Please continue.
  • Qrow: *Kicks her a bit more*
  • Winter: *Violently turns towards him and gives him a death glare*
  • Ironwood: ...Is something the matter?
  • Qrow: Yeah you seem a bit agitated. You forget to drink your coffee this morning?
  • Winter: ...nothing is the matter. Please ignore my past transgressions.
  • Ironwood: Very well... *continues on about battleships and what not*
  • Qrow: *Waits a bit before kicking her again*
  • Winter: ............*kicks him back*
  • Qrow: *Kicks her back*
  • *This continues for a while*
  • Winter: *Gets pissed and kicks him so hard the table shakes*
  • Qrow: *Standing up* OW!
  • Ironwood: What is going on over there?!
  • Qrow: Winter kicked me!
  • Ironwood: Winter! Why did you do that?
  • Winter: *Standing up* But sir! He kicked me first!
  • Ironwood: .......
  • Ozpin: ..........
  • GLynda: .........
  • Winter: *realizing she sounds like a 12 year old, she sits back down in silence*
  • Qrow: *Puts his hand on her shoulder* Don't worry, Winter. I forgive you. Growing up's a hard time for every one. Hey, why don't we play together during recess? ;P
  • Winter: *Internal screaming*

You don’t touch your brother because Sammy is goodness. Sam is innocence. Pure. Keep him that way, god just please let me keep it that way. 

But you see the way that Sam looks at you and you can’t ignore the burn that runs straight down your spine when you lock eyes with your baby brother in the darkness between your bodies in another shared bed.

Don’t look at him like that. Hands away from Sammy is enough, eyes away from Sammy is better, mind away from Sammy is too much to ask. 

New day, new motel, new bed, familiar only in the way Sam’s heat bleeds into the sheets, ramping the temperature up in the cave under the blankets until you feel like you might just catch on fire. Sam’s as afraid to touch as you are when he worms his way closer to you in a room filled with Dad’s snores, but you think he might want it even more than you do.

The barest brush of his little body against your front, and you roll away from him because you can’t do that to him. You can’t wrap yourself in his heat and his warmth and his love. That should be for someone else. Why is he offering it.

You drink to forget him. Another forty dollars blown at a dive bar would make you feel guilty as hell except you earned that cash at a part-time job, and if you need it to buy yourself a bottle to forget about how bad you need your hands deep in your little brother’s skin, well any price is worth paying to forget that. So you stumble the half-mile home back to the motel, the white line of the road dividing into twins and quadruplets the longer you force one foot in front of the other.

Barely time to kick your shoes off before you’re hitting the bed hard enough that you know there’s no way Sam slept through it. You feel Sam moving beside you at the same moment you realize Dad’s bed is empty, and the jerk of anticipation makes you dizzy.

In one smooth motion, Sam is hovering over you, a sharp silhouette against cool moonlight with his arms and knees caging you in, trapped. You seek out his features in the black shape of his face, but don’t know if you’re creating them from an eternity of memories or if Sam really is that beautiful. 

He leaves the sweetest kiss on your lips when he knows you can’t stop him, and you know you’re done for.