If you are going to be close-minded..

Someone asked to see the process of painting a portrait... I've never tried to record it, so it's not very professional. 🙈

- Forget you ever met me.

"I'll pray for you, Eduardo."

-

Over 90 hours of work went into this portrait of @diegocalva as Teddy Dos Santos in "The Night Manager". Our boy Teddy deserved so much better. He was loyal, like a dog, to the wrong person, only to be put down like one.. 💔

I caption this "Why the long face?"

As I don't have much creative imagination atm. So the models are my two very own crotch goblins..

Loki.

Apparently this is what I'm doing now.

Just some doodles and shadowing/position study. And obvs trying hands again.. why are hands so hard??

I also need some actual drawing pencils because the supermarket ones suck ass 😂. If anyone has a spare set of Prismacolors that they want to het rid of.... 😂😭

But here is the new stuff.

Inspired by the looks of Zawe Ashton and 2011 film Loki.

"The first and most oppressive lie ever uttered was the song of freedom. [...]"

#zaweashton #TomHiddleston

#Loki #mcu #LokiVariant #fanart #kw

Fear.

It was what had woken him again. He hadn‘t slept the whole night. No matter what he tried, he kept tossing and turning. Sighing, he turned to look out the big, gold-framed balcony doors beside his bed. The dawn was breaking. Soon, he had to be in the big hall, leading the kingdom until their ruler comes back.

„He will come back. He will…“

His throat constricted as the cold fist of fear wrapped it’s gruesome grip around it.

He dressed in the dark. His formal wear was only granted an annoyed glance. Then he strode out of his chambers, clad in a soft linen tunic, fine wool breeches and his riding boots.

He knew his destination and his big strides carried him there in mere minutes. When the scent of hay and horses filled his nose, he inhaled deeply. It had calmed him down since he was a young prince. It was his hiding place. Nobody looked for the noble, arrogant prince in the place that was dirtier than everything else.

He picked up three apples from a barrel at the big entry before he shut the gates again. Taking a bite of one of the apples, he walked calmly towards the far end of the stables. The two stablehands were used to seeing him here- more often just lately - so they bowed quickly and resumed their work when he walked by.

In the last bay, there she was. The beautiful, white mare, Magni. And, hidden behind her underneath a heap of straw, her foal, Hófvarpnir. He was born six weeks previous and as strong as his mother  and his father, Svađilfari, combined.

She walked towards him and put her soft nose on his shoulder, nudging him to make him give her the treat she knew he was hiding behind his back.

Chuckling softly, he held up the apple.

„Good morning to you too, Darling. You are a bright one, aren’t you?“

He fed her the apple and slipped inside her bay. The foal eyed him suspiciously but, he could smell the apple on him, so he trotted over to his side to wait patiently.

He ruffled his mane and held out the apple.

„Here you are.“

He fed the remainder of his own apple to the mare and sat down on the cool stone floor near the exit to the meadows on the back of Magni’s bay.

For a while he sat there, only staring outside. Watching the sun rise from behind the trees.

The foal laid down next to him, blowing his hot breath on the hand that rested on his knee.

He smiled weakly, but furrowed his brows. He felt hot tears stinging in his eyes.

He missed him. More than he probably should.

It wasn’t only his brother he missed. No, he missed his love; his strong arms around his body, his sweet words whispered into his ears in the darkest nights, his assuring gaze on him when he fullfilled his duties - even his booming laughter when he caused mischief again.

It brought a sad smile to his face.

He had been gone for month now. He had left him behind. Them behind.

Him, because he had to take over the position of the ruler until his return. His mare, because she carried an heir to the famous bloodline of their stables. She hadn't been suited for battle in her condition.

And, now her foal was born, their master still has not returned.

He had sent messages. The battles had taken some unexpected turns. They were trapped on another realm, their forces depleted to only a fraction of their former strength.

He knew his brother would come back. He always came back, even if it seemed impossible to win his battles, he always came back. ALWAYS.

He must.

Because, if he didn’t, he would simply wither away. He couldn‘t live without his love anymore. Not when he finally found it after years of hiding and denying himself. He had thought it was wrong, absurd… Disgusting, even. To have such thoughts… Thoughts that invaded his mind every second of his day, awake or not. It almost made him go mad. He had begun to hurt himself. The silver lines on his arms and thighs were a daily reminder of that. He had argued with himself in his head. That he imagined it all inside his mind. The lingering touches, the stolen glances, the unspoken words.

And, when he finally got what he craved so long for, he almost ruined it all by running away and hiding himself again.

But he was found. Pulled from the dark, the shadows, into the light. He had struggled and screamed and cried. But his brother was stronger than him. He forced him to listen, muffled his cries with kisses, let him hit his broad chest with all his force, endured all his curses with patience. Because he knew he didn’t mean it. He knew he had fallen back in old habits. Hurting himself, physically and mentally, because he believed he never deserved to be loved. Because he wasn’t normal. An abomination with no place to belong.

He knew now that he was mistaken. His love… No, the love of his life… Had made that clear. He had a place where he belonged. At his side. For eternety.

It was why he was afraid everytime his love left the realm to fight in seemingly pointless battles, fruitless wars that had no victor and only brought death and destruction.

If he ever lost the love he found, there would be no place in the nine realms to hide from his rage. He would turn loose to seek vengeance for his loss and he knew he was so powerful nothing could stop him. Nothing but HIS love.

It was why he needed him to come back. He can’t lose himself and bring Ragnarok upon the worlds. He would feel that guilt forever. But he couldn‘t change who he was - no matter how hard he tried.

He needed him to ground himself, to keep the monster inside at bay. To keep it from coming out of the darkness and swallowing every light that ever was and ever will be.

He felt it rattling in his cage. His moods were known to everyone around him and, the longer his love was away, the worse they got. He couldn’t do this any longer. He craved to be touched. He even tried to still his cravings with various lovers. But he sent them away everytime. They weren’t his love. They couldn’t satisfy his needs.

And so, he sat there, in the stables, sharing his pain with a creature that he knew would understand him.

„You miss him too, hm?“

The mare huffed and put her soft nostrils in his hand. No one was allowed to go near her apart from the princes. She would kick and bite everyone that tried to put a hand on her. She was as stubborn and fierce as her master.

He laughed. A sad, soft laugh.

The mare lowered her head to his face. He looked in her intelligent brown eyes, seeing himself in them. His face was wet and reddened from his silent tears. She looked at him for a long moment until she finally lifted her head again and bumped his fingers with her nose.

He knew what she wanted. But he wasn’t sure if it was helping their longing or made it worse.

However, he craved it as much as she did.

His fingers began to glow an eerie green; sparks flew from his fingertips.

In front of them appeared a cloud of green mist. At first, it was only a swirl of colours, but slowly the colours took forms and created an image.

A man, blonde and bulky, armed in a heavy breastplate but his muscular arms were bare. He held a hammer in his right hand, his long hair was losely held up by two strings bound in the back. His blue eyes stared at them… But, also, not. They stared straight through them.

He twitched his fingers and the image began to move. It smiled, the eyes focused, it lifted a hand to wave at them, turned the head and looked around.

It was almost as if he was here. Here with them. But they knew he was not. Not for a while longer.

When the sun reached her peak, he snapped his fingers and the image was gone.

He wiped his face with the hem of his tunic and unfolded his legs to stand up to his full, imposing height.

Waving his hand, he conjured his formal attire from his chambers onto his body and held his head high.

He braced himself for the angry questions on his whereabouts that he knew were to come. He had ignored his duties for too long already today.

He was surprised when he walked across the paths that lead to the palace and he saw the whole of the servantry scurrying around like ants. Confused, he grabbed one of the maids to stop her from running to wherever she was headed.

„Tell me girl. What is all this furore about?“

The scrawny woman looked at him with wide eyes.

„Haven’t you heard it, Lord Regent? The King is back! He has just arrived at the gates!“

She winced at his painful grip and, when he realised, he let go of her with a nod.

He needed a moment to grasp what she had said.

The King is back!

Taking two deep, calming breaths, he let his face fall into his long-learned, royal grimace of slight annoyance and strode towards the palace.

Internally, his heart was racing and his thoughts were falling over themselves in their eagerness to be expressed.

"Moon Daddy"