Captain Ede Allshipper

My Silly Art My Edits My Gifsets My DeviantArt Thunderhawk Chiaroscuro

USS Thunderhawk

I love art, in all it's forms. I adore drawing, reading, playing piano, singing, listening to music, photography, movies, TV, traveling... Books: Dune, LOTR, The Hobbit, Silmarillion, HP, Inkworld, La Saga de los Confines, The Belgariath and The Mallorean, The Hunger Games... Music: Instrumental (Joe Hisaishi, John Williams, James Horner, Hans Zimmer), artists (Tori Amos, Regina Spektor, Norah Jones, Jack Johnson, Adele, Lana del Rey), bands (Dream Theater, Blind Guardian, SOAD, The Beatles, Coldplay, Radiohead, Queen)... Movies: let's sum up 'cause they're too many: Marvel, DC, Ghibli Studio, Disney, Star Wars, Tim Burton and all the books I named... Games: Assassin's Creed, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Star Wars, Prince of Persia, Guitar Hero, Regnum Online, Monkey Island, Sims, Baldur's Gate, Diablo, Zelda... Series: OUAT, BBC's Sherlock, Elementary, Fringe, Friends, Big Bang Theory, House, The Mentalist, 2 Broke Girls... Animated Series and/or Mangas: ATLA, FMA, Fruits Basket, Loveless, Sailor Moon, NGE, Gravitation, ATLOK...
Not even Goodbye ((I meant for this one to be a quicky but it took a bit longer than I expected)) Thor knew Clint wasn’t there anymore. He placed his hand on the door knob and slowly turned while pushing until it opened. The room was dark as hell, the light coming only from behind Thor himself. He made no attempts to turn the lights on… There was nothing to see there, no one. He was gone now, of his own choice. He stood in the entrance for a while, absorbing the silence, the coldness of the empty room. Then he took a step in. As he slowly walked into the room, the shadows absorbed him. It was like in that book a midgardian had once read to him: ‘like all the happiness from your body was absorbed, drained, leaving you like the undead, with nothing but unhappy cold thoughts’. It was from a book about a young human who was a wizard. He couldn’t remember the name, but it was unimportant. He walked in the shadows until he reached the bed. He didn’t stumped on it, he remembered the amount of steps before stopping, and he wasn’t even aware of that. He saw a bump in the bed that caught his attention, occupying his mind for a second with a less gloomy thought… Until he figured out what it was. The stuffed hawk. He was determined not to dwell on this events. Things had been crazy lately and he couldn’t figure out how he felt about Clint. He was sure of one thing: their friendship would never be as it once were. He picked up the plushie and turn with it, walked up to a small bench and sat on it. He looked at it, turning it between his hands. He did not cried. Not a single tear. But the pain of his heart was carved into his face in every line. There was no doubt about it. He did not cried; yet he mourned. ((okay, this was awful! Pardon my terrible writing! It’s been write a while since I wrote anything and I’m used to write in Spanish and then translate (when writing a long text such as this), but this I wrote entirely and directly in English. I draw this one as a request for Kristen. She wanted a follow up to this scene, where Thor would find the plushie. I just felt it needed some text to go to. And well, for that, I apologize! I still hope you like the drawing! Bigger version here. I made it black and white for a more dramatic feel… Did it worked?))
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Not even Goodbye

((I meant for this one to be a quicky but it took a bit longer than I expected))

Thor knew Clint wasn’t there anymore. He placed his hand on the door knob and slowly turned while pushing until it opened. The room was dark as hell, the light coming only from behind Thor himself. He made no attempts to turn the lights on… There was nothing to see there, no one. He was gone now, of his own choice.

He stood in the entrance for a while, absorbing the silence, the coldness of the empty room. Then he took a step in. As he slowly walked into the room, the shadows absorbed him. It was like in that book a midgardian had once read to him: ‘like all the happiness from your body was absorbed, drained, leaving you like the undead, with nothing but unhappy cold thoughts’. It was from a book about a young human who was a wizard. He couldn’t remember the name, but it was unimportant.

He walked in the shadows until he reached the bed. He didn’t stumped on it, he remembered the amount of steps before stopping, and he wasn’t even aware of that. He saw a bump in the bed that caught his attention, occupying his mind for a second with a less gloomy thought… Until he figured out what it was. The stuffed hawk.

He was determined not to dwell on this events. Things had been crazy lately and he couldn’t figure out how he felt about Clint. He was sure of one thing: their friendship would never be as it once were. He picked up the plushie and turn with it, walked up to a small bench and sat on it. He looked at it, turning it between his hands. He did not cried. Not a single tear. But the pain of his heart was carved into his face in every line. There was no doubt about it. He did not cried; yet he mourned.

((okay, this was awful! Pardon my terrible writing! It’s been write a while since I wrote anything and I’m used to write in Spanish and then translate (when writing a long text such as this), but this I wrote entirely and directly in English. I draw this one as a request for Kristen. She wanted a follow up to this scene, where Thor would find the plushie. I just felt it needed some text to go to. And well, for that, I apologize! I still hope you like the drawing! Bigger version here. I made it black and white for a more dramatic feel… Did it worked?))