Infinite doodle stuff for my Watch the World Burn au

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Infinite doodle stuff for my Watch the World Burn au

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
“Being a ghost is stupid,” Jimmy says petulantly. “You just poked straight through my chest, which I would ordinarily be upset about. But I’ve been dead for four years, so I’m not mad at you about it. I mean, I’m mad, but not at you specifically.”
Or: Tango's ranch is haunted. It's not nearly as big of a problem as he expected it to be. A 27k ghost AU.
but i'll be starry-eyed, i'll be starry-eyed i'll be starry-eyed, for you
it seems i have been overtaken by Interstellar Brainrot.... inspired by @birdantlers‘s interstellar au, When the Wind Blows! please read it
speedpaint
If you haven't read "When the Wind Blows" by @birdantlers I highly recommend it! It's an absolutely amazing BNHA fic!
smth i drew for @birdantlers ‘s dadmight interstellar au partially b/c their work is s-tier and partially b/c the spotify playlist for this au made me feel things

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Dawn light creeps over Emily’s Inn 🌤☀️
All Covered in Chalk
The players wear a hat, and a long purple gown, and are chased through the streets, to the heart of the town, There to be judged by how many a hand, Has been laid on their gowns before they reach the strand. In the story it's based on, Esme never got caught, So the winner’s decided by how few hand prints she’s got. Every year, it’s the fate of those less agile girls, To be patterned with chalk from their feet to their curls. Then one fateful year, a girl with hair like red fire, Heckled the chasers, and ignited their ire. She ran along rooftops, and down narrow braes, She knew all of the short cuts, and secretive ways, But, catch her they did, and before they let go, Her cloak was all white as the pure driven snow. With chin tilted high, she strode onto the stage, But although she had lost, her face showed no rage. There stood her friend, who'd been slowest for years, She was laughing, and smiling, and wiping at tears. The red-head strode past her, to the end of the line. “I guess that I lost," She said, "And that's fine."
The welcome desk at Emily’s Inn