Stakkholtsgjá is a well known gorge in the Thórsmörk area in the Icelandic highlands. But just next to it and most of the time overlooked by visitors is a beautiful ravine that´s much worth the visit. Surrounded by steep cliffs with a small freshwater stream at the bottom
Some gays and angst
And a pigeon.
Two were requests from a Gore challenge, (the top ones)
The middle was for a stream and the bottom two were gifts for a friend.
ASK TO REPOST MY ART ON INSTAGRAM
sketches from the stream! bottom 2 rows are some concept sketches of steven fusions! the Steven/Garnet fusion was heavily inspired by a concept sketch by @genchiart .. I couldnt think of anything better for the outfit he came up with, so i just gave them 5 eyes and an extra arm lol.
I’m gonna clean up these sketches and tweak some stuff here and there to make some actual designs, so stay tuned!
So here are two pretty good indicators that Elementary is renewed (or maybe streaming). The bottom one says, “See you on Season 6,” so there’s that. ;) And the top is a goodbye party for producer John Polson, but doesn’t look like a big giant series-ending wrap party. Could still happen, but…
i. justice You asked me to sing for you – gentle soldier on the dock, fish around her ankles. Guns float up from the muddy bottom, water streams from sleek black metal, barrels catch at her trouser legs. She takes one in hand and holds it loose, fingers trace the trigger like she doesn’t know what it’s for.
Brave soldier, she sees the snake in the shallows and pulls the children one by one onto shore, wading out up to her knees, her waist, her neck, to save just one more. Fangs sink deep in the meat of her calf and she screams, but she does not kneel.
Doomed soldier, there is blood in the water, boiling up around her feet. I reach down and pluck the gun from her hands, fingers find a familiar grip, gloves soaked a dark and dangerous red. She smiles as I lay the muzzle at her temple like a kiss – you asked me to sing, but oh, the songbirds have all fled.
Paige opens one eye, and admires the
colours around her. For a moment, she’s distracted by the bruise on her wrist,
watching curiously as it fades from purple to greenish yellow, and disappears. Pretty, she thinks, and then it occurs
to her to wonder where she is.
There’s a strange heartbeat in her ears,
steady and comforting. She turns her head, blinks hair out of her eyes. When
she sees the dark fabric under her cheek, she freezes. As she tries to prop
herself up on her elbows, the sword through her chest scrapes along the floor.
She glares at it.
Beside her, that bastard is stirring. He
stares down at the pencil still lodged in his heart. Paige pulls it free,
angrily, and wipes it on the front of his suit.
fallen and they’d kissed-
They get to their feet awkwardly, not
meeting each other’s eyes.
It’s two days later that she realizes he
kept the pencil.
Six months later they meet again and pick
up their argument exactly where they left off.
“I had things to do today,” he says, trying to make his voice
She puts a hand over his mouth.
She bends low to kiss him.
She tears out his heart.
The first time he drowns her, it’s an
There’s a wood at the bottom of the garden,
and a stream at the bottom of the woods, and in winter, it’s a smooth snowy
ribbon overlaying dark water. Heart pounding, she races towards it with him
close behind. Their game is always new, always changing, infuriating and
exhilarating. She dances out onto the ice while he teeters on the edge. He’s
too heavy to follow, and she laughs.
She’s still laughing when the ice cracks. Dimly, she hears him shout her name.
Just before the dark water closes over her
head, she thinks she sees him reach for her.
She sinks faster than she would have
The curtains stir with the slight breeze.
Her room faces west; she’s always loved the afternoon light, and right now it’s
making an irresistible puddle of sunshine across the tangled blankets.
One of the figures stirs. The
mouth that had torn her throat out earlier leans down to carefully press kisses
to her fingertips, her palms.
“I hate you,” Paige murmurs sleepily. For
some reason, he tenses, then holds her tighter.
In the morning, she’ll realize that wasn’t
quite what she’d said.
The voices echoed loudly in the dark warehouse, the usual calm demeanor that they held completely lost from them and instead replaced by a more desperate, agonizing pain. Though the aggressor that had launched at you already laid dead, he had caused enough damage to make you be destined to his same fate.
Blood poured freely from your abdomen, creating an ugly crimson stain in the middle of your shirt and soaking the fabric. The calloused hands of a hunter held your body as another person, an angel, tried to wake you up to help the healing, but that wasn’t working. Your eyes had rolled to the back of your head minutes ago, a murmur of love directed to the hunter being the last thing to pass through your lips.
Frantic blue eyes stared at the wound in your stomach, two rough fingers from the heavenly being pressing against your forehead in an attempt to make you conscious once again. Another person paced in front of his brother and the angel, hands tangled in his brown hair as he fought back tears. He couldn’t succumb to the same actions as his brother whose green eyes were already spilling tears, he had to be strong just in case…
“DAMN IT, CAS, JUST DO SOMETHING ALREADY!” Dean roared, his hands clutching at your immobile body, one hand on your cheek and the other holding you against him. He had dropped on his knees at the same time as you, pulling you to his lap so that you wouldn’t have to fall to the floor.
Castiel let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding and tore his eyes away from your paling face and to the gash that had not only cut your body, but was threatening to do the same with your life. Shaking hands were painted red as soon as they touched the wound, the bitter palette of your life smearing upon his fingers. He could feel the heat that was escaping your body through the tear in your skin as well as the sticky liquid that colored his fingers, and it made the own blood running in his veins freeze.
A faint, blue trace of Castiel’s grace was visible to the Sam and Dean as he tried to close the gash positioned in your middle, the misty energy reflecting the color of his very own, shining eyes. And then it was gone, taking the rip away with it. But it also took away the ignorance of a truth Dean had tried to ignore for so long.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered to your sleeping body, now regaining some of its color, as his bittersweet tears fell to your cheeks and his lips pressed against your forehead. And so he set the stage for a tragic play that he didn’t want to see unfold, and yet it was necessary for it to do so. After all, a similar fate like this could find a way into your life again, and he would rather keep you away from that.